Absolute necessity of faith

Whatever you choice you make, run with it.

Run with all the volition your hungry spirit can afford.

When disbelieving pessimism finds a way in, look back into the eyes of the Lord - hear Him say your name.

Never stop running, Brian!

Raymond Carver and Highlighters

Raymond Carver is a writer. not a writer. a writer! not that i'm trying to talk about him like he's some kind of basketball star or larger-than-life personality.

HOWEVER, the frame of reality in his head and whatever experiences he's lived through fuel his pen quite well. i dont know if i like his stories that much (the message, etc), but some of the words he puts together say more than the sum of their parts.

i have this pink highlighter that i really like (the "Exclaim!" brand). its noticeably good. when you press it down on paper, the dopamine storehouses in the brain release slightly (maybe not that good. but it's noticeably awesome). i remember using it for the first time and saying "whoa." it's GOOD, okay?

the one and only thing i hate about all highlighters is how much ink they release. it annoys me when highlighters bleed through thin paper. thank you for your generosity highlighter, but please stop releasing giant, obnoxious, hot-pink pools of ink everywhere.

I'm not even sure why i'm writing about this. sorry if you wanted something that shifted your paradigm (but you wouldnt be looking for that here, would you?)

(if you are... I am both flattered and sorry. haha)

All or Nothing or a Regretful inbetween

I am now thoroughly convinced that anything worth having in life requires considerable risk.

If nothing is uncertain, there is no need to hope for it has already been granted. Only in dark times does hope reveal itself as a desperate, beautiful foothold - a bittersweet duality.

With nothing to lose, you must bet it all on HOPE!

Thanksgiving 09

No amount of frills, originality, fancy words, or anything in between comes close to an honest and unashamed confession straight from the heart.

that said, I'm remembering and giving thanks for my life in its kitschy - but honest - assortment of the places and people of which its been made. I thank the Lord for the heaven and even the hell i've been through and how the ironic harmony of their parts sum up my colorful existence.

Friends and "enemies", family and strangers, I raise my glass to you - thank you for being the wind in my sails and the current on my voyage.

Beginning of the end: Thoughts from a college senior

Ever since I was a kid, I had always wondered where I'd be when I "grow up"

The years have gone by and I'm nearly there, but am I really where I thought I'd be? a little older - sure. a little wiser? barely. hungry to make a difference? yes.

I really do believe in my heart that we can make a world of a difference at the workplace no matter what occupation we're in. it might not be a worldwide difference, but we can make a world of a difference to somebody, and I believe that is a beautiful thing

But why is it that I still want more? I want to make more of a difference. I want to change the world. I'm walking on a fine line between being concerned and unhealthily obsessive. Maybe its the pressures of being a college senior and having to make a choice of whether or not to go in an unknown direction.

Do you ever feel that God created you for more than what you're living for? Sometimes I wonder if the pieces of which I am made are really cut out for the defense industry or not. Should I make a jump into a totally different risky field?

Maybe I'm over thinking, but I can't help but want to start my career in the right direction. who really knows anyway, maybe I have to take three lefts to make a right.

And right when I get stressed, confused, lost, frustrated, pressured, worried, I remember the verse that smooths out the forehead wrinkles:

In his heart, a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. proverbs 16:9

-phew- that is good news.

God of Justice - Tim Hughes

God of Justice, Saviour to all
Came to rescue the weak and the poor
Chose to serve and not be served

Jesus, You have called us
Freely we've received
Now freely we will give

We must go live to feed the hungry
Stand beside the broken
We must go
Stepping forward keep us from just singing
Move us into action
We must go

To act justly everyday
Loving mercy in everyway
Walking humbly before You God

You have shown us, what You require
Freely we've received
Now freely we will give

Fill us up and send us out
Fill us up and send us out
Fill us up and send us out Lord

Murphy's law came true today

Rant time!

I don't know who writes the course descriptions in the university general catalog. It's probably some evil dude. like that red devil/lobster/demon-in-high heels from powderpuff girls (...not that I watch powderpuff girls...)

These misleading course descriptions make classes sound so interesting and great yet believable, but EVERY time, it is an utter disappointment. UTTER disappointment.

Last year, I took a computer gaming studies class hoping to maybe have fun for once playing video games for an easy A. Boy was I wrong. The class was the most boring, pointless, and painful class ever. It was like going to the dentist - I hated it. We had incredibly complex and impractical readings and my TA was some napoleon dynamite scrub who never read any of the readings and talked out of his butt. I would rather scratch my nads with poison ivy. I would rather have my dexterity-deficient mom mine the ear wax from my ear with a bamboo toothpick. I would rather watch Mall Cop five times in a row. UNFORGIVABLE!

We had to play final fantasy 11 for a class assignment and at first it's like "whoa, that sounds cool. I dont really like Dungeons and Dragons/ fantasy RPG's, but They made final fantasy 7,8,9,10, right? How bad could it be? this game is going to be sick. I cannot wait to get home to play this game. I cant believe I'm going to be graded for playing games. life is awesome." - eengh! - WRONG. This is the worst game ever. I would rather lick a hairy mushroom. What a terrible game this was. The freakin video game character cant even run at an acceptable rate. After patiently waiting for 5 hours to install the game and make my username (cutelilladybug), I found myself in this huge monster-infested desert with no clue as how to get a weapon or something. Seriously, it was like taking a puppy straight from the womb, covering it in chum, and throwing it into a tank full of hungry sharks. It took me over 30 minutes to get from one area to another. But when you're a heroic level 1 warrior running like Chris Farley, who can blame you? To get an A on the the game assignment, you have to achieve certain goals and give a log of it to the professor. wow. He might as well have asked the class to run a 4-minute mile. the only certain thing about achieving the goals was that they were certainly impossible. How the freak are you supposed to kill 10 monsters - who are just as strong as you are by the way - all by yourself? ridiculous! The only way I could survive was to be a coward and hit the monster once while running away as it got PO'ed and chased me - AND THEY ARE RELENTLESS. If you hit-and-run long enough, eventually, you can kill it, but c'mon, why does killing a little desert rabbit take forever? How the hell does that make sense anyway? A killer desert rabbit?! C'MON! My character is a giant ogre WITH A SWORD! And you're going to tell my virtual loved-ones that a desert rabbit is responsible for my death?! UNFORGIVABLE!

If you cant run away from the monsters by yourself (which is more often that not) you have to fight them by yourself. That means your friends who want to heal you and beat the crap out of the little mofo can do nothing but watch you die a slow and pitiful death at the hands of a desert rabbit. The game designers obviously know nothing about da hood. In da hood, yo bruddaz back you up all day, 'ey-day! but I guess that's no surprise considering you are a virtual elf/ogre/warrior-babe who cant even defend yourself from a infant rodents. what a joke. I dont believe in violence, but someone needs to keep it real and act a foo on the dipsticks who made this terrible game!

phew.

so I was going to rant about how I didnt get to finish my midterm today for an elective class that sounded interesting from the catalog but turned out to be a complete disappointment, but I think that's enough for today. oh yeah, and I didnt do well on a midterm I got back today from last week. and I saw a completely naked frontal area of a 30-something year old asian dude in the men's locker room today at the gym. blegh.Truly, a Murphy's Law day.

Somebody show some love!

Psalms

Lord give these hands rest instead of the work they seek

take away the hammer and nail

place them in the in yours

When the great day comes, I don't want to relent nor hesitate

I want to abandon all

I want to run to your arms as a love sick son

Let my soul not be fooled nor cultured

but may i always remember my true home,

amongst your colonnade and warmth

I was made to come back to you, we are close

I am yours, closer still.

I am your fragile jewel! A fine pearl upon your throne!

your precious thing. a rose in the hands of an almighty savior God

A sweet fragrance to a king

there is life in the desert though it is dry

your voice echoes through its valleys

A sweeping bloom of lavender cover its surface,

the bride is renewed. the garden - restored.

On becoming rats

Ennio Morricone's "Deborah's Theme" shirks through the plastered speakers of phonographs long forgotten by digital ears.

Its turntable belies a beautiful, smooth mahogany shell - a proud memoir of an age of craftsmen and their skilled trade before the machine took their work.

The work was faithful. short-lived, but faithful. With its share of drudgery and excitement sprinkled in between, the passion eventually became duty - a sweet, rotten cake, beyond any worker's appetite.

Laid off and let go, they file out of the factory bidding strange goodbyes, silently rubbing pennies with well-worn hands inbetween corduroy pockets. They left all they'd ever known, they'd never been so free, yet so captive to insecurity.

"What now? Where do I go? What purpose do I serve?" they ask themselves. Indeterminate beings never knowing themselves, always asking inconclusive questions after having placed their weighty eggs in a paper basket.

What a shame! Such good men thinking silhouettes of themselves. Chasing one desire after the next, but never feeling full. All the while thinking themselves wiser for it. Though deep within, a voice- a child's voice - their voice calls out. It knows life was meant for more than this - more than this rat race. The bitterness of rat's bane is a cup for all who run its race; the unwavering aftertaste of regret and disappointment.

Though tragic, there can be no exception to the mysterious course of nature. Ever sowing, ever reaping. No surprises here. Even tender, passionate children can become disillusioned rats; all flesh - given enough time and morose - sags.

All who are hungry, let them eat. All who are thirsty, let them drink. Chase not after things unfulfilling, but always after the fountain of life.

ASDFGHJKL

Spill, spill, spill

Pour, pour, pour

The hungry words - with their spindly, delicate, ugly, little black verdana legs - scurry forth from the impatient flashing text cursor onto the inadequate text box to the tune of my chubby sausage finger's clickety-clack.

Experiences become thoughts become words become lost-in-translation blog posts. fiddlesticks.

Composition! What a crass sensual tension. What an ups!de-down joke.

poor, poor, pour from the pores of my imagination.

Overflow harvesting at UCSD

In my heart, there is a secret place to which only God and I know the way. There I find rest and paradise for my soul – to rest in the affection and joy of Jesus, forever finding shameless intimacy. Out of this river overflows an unquenchable desire to chase his heart. It is a light yoke – easy, attractive, and full of peace. One upon which we need not strive for validation by what we accomplish, but one by which we may powerfully obey as a fruit of love.

Kim Walker says that when we encounter the love of God, we're never the same. It is the cry of my heart for God to pour out that ancient promise over our fellow students; to turn the heart of our nation back to him; to see every heart, mind, and soul at UCSD captivated by Christ. To receive mercy instead of justice; to receive transformation instead of what we deserve.

When I connect with God's heart, I can't help having a passion for what he is passionate about - the harvest. Jesus also calls us to be careful and wise in how we live, making the most of every opportunity. I believe the college campus is an unbelievable opportunity. I also believe that it is no accident that we, as college students, have ended up precisely where we are via happenstance. Every divine fiber in our destiny has been intertwined and carefully woven to herald the moment we are living in now - a moment in which we must choose to survive timidly or thrive passionately.

I know a beautiful truth in which I place my hope and faith: God desires to partner with imperfect people to perfect his work. When the accuser thrusts shame upon my heart, I am sustained and refreshed in the hope of God - that my life has a great purposeful work to be revealed and that I have been given authority to do it. I can do all things in Him who strengthens me for we did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but we have received the spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba, Father!". His spirit is the sole source of transformational holiness, and I have faith that he pours it out freely to his every single one of his faithful to this very day.

Though I wrestled thoroughly with the theological validation and soundness of student-led simple churches, it became increasingly clear that a brilliant (though man-made) strategy and infrastructure cannot supplant the holiness and obedience by which harvests are reaped. Through student-led simple churches, the word comes to life in relevant and life-changing ways bringing forth the living waters to every member of the body because they so deeply require complete dependence on God. In the simplicity of an intimate setting, guards are dropped, lives are exposed, and real-talk resounds. Where resources lack, the Spirit provides. Where theology divides, Godly obedience unifies. Where there is dependence on God, there is power. By handing over the reins to the Lord, the long due fruit finally ripens and we make space for the heavenly gardener to do only what He can.

I see God connecting the lines and uniting the living body parts. He is courting a generation to fall so in love with him that all it wants is more and more of Him. They do not care about owning a movement of God or taking credit as so many with power have already done. Because they are so incredibly head-over-heels for God and his heart for the nations, they simply want to obey – even if it means being forgotten. They don’t care because they already have the best thing – the easy yoke – the love of a savior king.

Children do not forget the love of their father, and all other shiny things pale in comparison to Him. Their love is too fixated on Him; their eyes are still.

Essential Silliness

Peter: I still have no idea what to write.

Mr. Barry: Write about anything! Write about your family. Write about the talking whale.

Peter: What whale?

Mr. Barry: The one that's trapped in your imagination and desperate to get out.

(Excerpts from Finding Neverland)

Writing

When I get frustrated, I write. sometimes here, sometimes in a journal. Not for glory or to shake a fist. In fact, it's the opposite of an attempt to find approval, self-worth, or any other redemptive quality. The pacifying essence of writing is its introspective nature - the ability for man to look into his soul and throw his thoughts against the walls of his heart in complete silence where no one is watching. All of this is - or should be - done to humble himself; a literary soliloquy to root oneself in truth in the midst of the chaos of society.

Things that girls do that are hilarious

1) The kick stand. I heard this from somewhere (Dane Cook?) but its the truth: girls always do this. They pop their hip and turn their opposing foot to its side while placing hands firmly at each hip bone. add the head tilt and you got the whole package.

I rest my case.

2) The scoff. follow these simple instructions: first, tilt you head down so your chin rests on your chest. then open your mouth in an 'o' shape. then squint. then scoff. and boom - there you have it: "the scoff." sometimes they scoff while smiling. but thats only if another girl slaps them on the butt. or if they do something scaaaandelous!

3) Practiced poses and smiles. This is perhaps the most hilarious of all female hilariousness. You girls think you are so sly with your cute and fine-tuned smiles but I KNOW! you cannot fool all of us! We know you sit in front of the mirror and practice different faces saying to yourself, "oh, this one is cute" and memorizing your muscle structure! We know you spend 5 hours rehearsing your smile for your profile picture! Like Bob Marley says, "you can fool some people some of the time, but you cannot fool ALL the people ALL the time!" sometimes on facebook, if you look at "view pictures of so-and-so," you can catch the posers. just find a pictures in series of a girl taking pictures with her gal pals at a club or something. if you switch back and forth really fast, you might be able to see something like this:

granted these are exaggerations and there are some girls who dont give into these hilarious temptations, thare are many many girls who do - and will never cease to supply me with a good, quiet chuckle.

I salute you, hilarious girls.

Surfing: chapter one in my quest to become a "bro"

I've have this fat list of things I want to do before I graduate (another post for another time) and whipping it into shape has been a long time coming. Surfing has always been pretty up there. After talking about it with some friends about committing, I finally took the plunge and bought my first board on friday - the best decision i've made all summer!

Ater hours of research on forums and youtube that went well into the early hours friday morning (i slept about 2 hours before work) I finally found the board I wanted! i searched craigslist and there it was: a 6'4'' Piranha modern quad fish by Rusty surf company - check it out here. All day at work, I couldn't think of anything else but getting out there on the waves on this rocket ship.

There she is! (the board. haha.)

I was so happy when I bought it. There's something cool about buying a surfboard because it realizes some of the crazy things that you had always wanted to do but never followed through with because of some seemingly reasonable excuse. and doing some of those crazy things, even if other people thing is stupid, is a joyous and liberating feeling because for once, you listen to your heart. I remember having this huge smile as I tucked this sweet baby into my car while driving off to the sweet sounds of incubus.

Sick piranha detail

surf wax courtesy of Mr. Zogs, el perverto.

Right after I bought it, I drove over to La Jolla shores with some friends to give it its maiden voyage. It was a perfect day: beautiful sunset, super warm water, and good friends to enjoy it with. after paddling out, I caught my first wave in what could have been the most alive I had felt in a while; I couldn't stop myself from yelling at the top of my lungs amidst the breaking waves and seafoam. It's a strange feeling being ashore because everything is so still and foreign to what its like constantly adjusting your balance to the waves. the thrill and rush of cruising on top of a wave really made me realize how much i've been missing out on and how an entire surf culture could come from one simple yet enthralling pleasure: riding waves.

soggy and dizzy from the waves, I thanked God for creating waves and for blessing me with the affordability to have a surfboard. I felt like a kid when our father in heaven bought me this sweet board. its like going to a candy store. hahah no but really, thank you Jesus.

The next day, Vinh's uncles invited us to paddle out with them on sunday morning @ Torrey pines beach. They said it was a good place for beginners. psh. they were so wrong. check this out:

We got totally owned. Got this sucka as I was paddling out; my board got away from me as a huge wave came in and when i surfaced, the board surfaced under me and one of the fiberglass fins freakin uppercutted me in the chin. It hurt like a mother and started bleeding a lot. if you dont already know, I've have a huge fear of sharks. They can smell a drop of blood from a mile away, so as a service to myself and the other surfers, I beached my beat up arse on shore and threw in the towel. Just to be clear: I am a total noob. Never been surfing, never took a lesson, just played around on a friend's longboard one time and thought it was a good idea. which it was and still is. You just gotta deal with the risks.

Waves can be really powerful even if it's "just water" and there is a clear a limit to what you can attempt and what will hand you and your butt over to the waves for a good beating. it's a challenge to just get off the shores because the waves freakin pound you into a pulp. When the waves break and crash, they drag you down and you can't breathe until it decides to let go of you and spit you back up. Sometimes, waves come in spurts, so you get pulled under over and over again.

Getting caught in spin cylces is pretty freaky because you never know when you come up and most of the time, you dont have enough time to take a deep breath before you go under. note to fellow land lubbers: surfing is a challenge. If you've ever thought "ooh~ surfing looks really fun and easy! hee hee hee!" NO. this is no tea party. you really gotta commit and stick it out when you get cold and when the salt water fills your stomach. but it is sooooo worth it. my bad if this is freaking you out. At the end of the day, its a great feeling being out there with just you and the ocean.

What would I be without surf talk? allow me to introduce you to some funny surf lingo:

kook - noun: an idiot. that's it.

lip - noun: the curved edges of a wave that develops at the end of a swell and eventually crashes down.

barrel - noun: the cylindrical space inbetween a falling wave and the upwelling that you surf through

pitted - adj: used to describe when surfers get pressured closer and closer into the walls of a wave because of the decreasing space in its barrel (see barrel)

whapah! - see video below. there are no words to describe...

then watch this:

til next time...hang loose! :-)

a hunger that satisfies

Lord, show me how to love people the way you did. Untainted, pure, and blameless; a form of love that transcends the sliminess of religious ways and tugs at a stubborn chord in our hearts - the shining hope deep within us to have you in our hearts completely.

Silence my words and open my arms! teach me to hear and obey! To subdue my tongue but to preach at all times! to use words only when necessary! Lord, we know it isnt meant to be difficult so re-program us to realize it!

Jesus, Renew my mind to continue to run and stand for what you hung for even when i feel most ashamed of myself. remind us that forgiven pasts are no longer held against us, but that we have freedom to share your love with others even when we feel like hypocrites. free us from the fear of failure; to understand that your sacrifice deserves more than a feeble attempt, but to still feel worthy in your arms at the end of the day.

Lord, dismantle our plans and revert our attention to your love for us. to set that as the cornerstone upon which we build your kingdom.

Jesus, teach us to love and be loved!

Midnight thoughts II: The Widow's offering

"And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came in and put in two small copper coins, which made a penny*. And he called his disciples to him and said to them, "Truly I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. for they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."

Jesus! Teach us to entrust you with more than we can afford! Give us a heart like yours!

* two lepta, which make a kodrantes; a kodranteds (latin quadrans) was a Roman copper coin worth about 1/64 a denari (which was a day's wage for a laborer).

**note: tithing's historical purpose - regardless of its current nature - was to support the spreading of the gospel and to bolster philanthropic and fellowship-oriented church efforts

Midnight thoughts

If I could rip out my heart and pour out its words to you, my fellow reader, it would be that God is not so much a riddle as He is an answer - an answer to the sojourned longing of your heart.

If I had only seconds to live, I'd yell and shout and wheeze and proclaim that Christianity is not intellectual suicide nor a crutch for the weak, but that I have never felt stronger and more certain in my life about what truth is and that there is a good father-God who pens it.

I hope this sinks deep and transcends this blog.

Sunday afternoon in La Jolla

Wrestle my way out of bed, fumble my way through an old wrinkly tee, and wash the ugly from my face. Turning the corner from the tiled bathroom floor, I catch the following sight:

There's a neat line of japanese yews leading out from the pale french paneled doors. As always, they exhale: deeply, slowly, thoughtfully. Thereby the chorus sweeps through the neighborhood; a brambly arpeggio of oaks and evergreens sitting comfortably in my ear.

There's a knot in the wind and it's rolling restlessly through my halls. I hope it stays forever - I wouldn't mind.

I step outside and the pea gravel tustles through my toes; they are cold, and refreshing. They plaster a grey caulky chalk underneath my feet. The flagstone canvas is stamped with these earthen footprints.

grab the green pillow. curl up on the couch. stare at the sky. Thank God that I'm alive.

Zoning out never felt more like tuning in.

4 things at midnight

There are many things I want and many things I dont need. Knowing the difference is halfway to freedom. And I'm not just talking about the tangibles...

When I have kids, I want to love my children the same way my mom and dad love me.

You're a vegetable in the matrix when you're consumed by the grind, but the catch is that you don't know it; everyone needs a morpheus to unplug them.

I want to stay young and hungry at heart forever, even when the white hairs don't say so. I never want to lose sight of what is truly important.

Longings of the Human Heart

I have work in about three hours but I can't fall asleep. In fact, I spend about 30-50 minutes every night trying to fall asleep as I say to myself "man. what a waste of time."


but anyway...


"Achievement"- in my opinion - is one of the heaviest words in the English dictionary because it makes you ask yourself if you've done something good with your life. A lot of people spend years in velvety armchairs pondering the the measure of a 'good' life, but it seems redundant to do so because its not something that is understood in theory, but in practice. There's so much more to the ride than its physics: it's the thrill and adventure that makes it worth riding at all.

Somewhere in the humdrum of modern American mediocrity, the sweetness of that thrill is lost.

The domestication of the postmodern man's imagination leads sets off an alarm that asks whether there is more to life than earning it all just to leave it behind.

I like to believe that my life is a story filled with pages and snapshots of the people I've met, the places I've been, and the things I've been through. Maybe its out of a self-centeredness, but I lose sight of the fact that there are as many other stories as there are people in the world, each writing theirs furiously as I am mine. When I think about the hundreds of thousands of different stories out there being written, it makes me happy that everyone's life is meaningful but it also unsettles me because I realize that in many ways, mine isn't any schnazzier than someone else's. I begin to feel like just another number in the long string of equations before mine. Herein lies our struggle and life-long pursuit to do something "good" the life we've been given.

Most days I'll wake up early, gather my briefcase, work hard for the next 9 hours, come home, dance at the studio, play guitar/throw-in the occasional coffee shop gig, then eat a freakin awesome dinner and go to sleep. On the good days, I'll be pleased with myself. On the bad ones, I'll wish I were something better. Whichever way it plays out, the outcome is always the same. There comes a time in every man's life when he shuts his door to lay down and ask himself "what am I doing with my life?"

It looks so good on the outside. I'm blessed to have good health, friends who are there for me, a great education, a solid internship, and hobbies that excite me.

Here's the problem: the moment I put down my guitar I wonder to myself what would happen if I ever achieve legendary guitar-hero status. Even after the benefit concerts, the fame, the broken record sales, and charity events, would I have left an everlasting dent on the face of the Earth? Even when the most lurid dream becomes a reality, what's it worth if it's nothing more than than a memoir saying "I was here briefly" to be forgotten eventually, even if 1000 years down the road? I feel crushed. It is not cynicism, it just wont settle. There's something missing.

The human heart is programmed differently than the brain. The brain tells us we should be happy with our security, but the heart disagrees - it longs for more. And for that, perhaps the heart is the wiser organ.

We can believe that happiness is what life is about, but our hearts disagree. It will tell you there is more.

JESUS is the more you are looking for.

You are invited.

I've never knew the depth of joy and the sweetness of life until I actually started loving Jesus.

When I fall short of my own expectations, I am still encouraged.

When I don't do well in school, I am still validated.

When my bank account clings on for dear life, I still feel rich.

He keeps me young at heart and my soul overflowing as the brimming dawn.

The answer to every man's primal call for true freedom is found in replying to Jesus with a "Yes."

Running and Discipline

.

I hate it when you realize that you've been checking your facebook for the past 3 hours with a big midterm coming up. Or when you realize that you've been playing video games all day while holding off on writing a paper. Or when you realize that you've been loitering with your friends in a parking lot late at night for 2 hours even though you have work really early the next day. Or when your checking account empties out because its easier to eat at a restaurant than buying groceries.

Maybe self-discipline isn't such a bad thing after all.

Instant gratification is promoted today more than ever. Fast-food that caters to our instant hunger, television that lets us change channels the instant we lose interest, and the list goes on... Though these things in themself aren't bad, the effects of their hyperconsumption run deep in who we are: we lose the steering wheel over our own lives and become slaves to our desires. When we cant stop telling lies to your parents, we become slaves. Or we cant stop sexualizing women (or men) in ways we know isn't how they should be treated, we become slaves. Or when we cant stop getting angry at people you dont like, we become slaves. 

Its a dangerous thing to let these habits consume you because it feels terrible and makes youwish we were half the man you used to be.

When every part inside craves instant gratification, sometimes you just gotta let it die so you can live for once. Because you feel so much more alive when the desires dont have the control.

Its ironic how disciplining yourself is more self-love than overindulgence. the more you beat your body, the more it obeys you and the more you listen to the voice of reason. the better off you are.

Running has always been a romantic thing for me. It might sound crazy, but I love running though it hasnt always been that way. In jr high and high school, we'd run almost 12 miles a day. During our workouts, I thought that I was going to pass out. With each step, my head would flop against my shoulders and I wouldnt be able to feel my toes anymore. Just a solid rhythm of my ankles droning endlessly across the track. The strange thing is, when you stop running to catch your breath, it feels amazing. When you go home, you can take deeper breaths and you have more energy throughout the day. its amazing how the feeling of death is rewarded by a better quality of life. Momma knows best when she says "what doesnt kill you makes you stronger."

Starting workouts are the hardest part. The first week is brutal and you dont even start to feel results until after 3 weeks. And during those 3 weeks, fatigue is heavy and dominating. It really makes you wonder if its really worth it.

The catch to running is that if you don't run everyday, you lose your edge very quickly. even missing a day or two's workout can drastically affect your speed and endurance; you can feel it. you gotta keep running.

I still think that running requires extreme mental roughness. When your gut feels like its gonna burst and your throat is pasty with dry saliva and everything in your brain tells you to stop, you've got to have serious toughness to shut out that voice and keep going. another mile. another mile. another mile...

The fastest man in the world doesn't claim his glory as the fastest if he isnt the fastest. No, he trains hard - though it's painful - sacrificing time and other pleasures. Even as he grits his teeth, wheezing as he goes, his heart beats wildly but his eyes remain steady with one thing on his mind: winning.

Paul writes about life is like a race and how we win it by living righteously. We get strong by having the discipline and willpower to say 'no' when we must; to not be slaves to our carnal desire. He talks about how the prize is worth running for: spending eternity with a loving father. 

 "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."

the love of discipline isnt masochistic, it is self-preserving.

So keep the faith. Rub some dirt in it and keep running.

Melting a Proud Heart

.

In some tribes, a lion's mane is a valuable commodity. it is a symbol of power and pride; a proof of authority well respected among other animals.

A proud lion stumbles into a trap. Unless it is freed, it will die and never fulfill its destiny to become an heir to nature's throne. The only way to save the lion is to convince it is to shave its mane. 

 

Yell at a proud lion and it will never let you near. But if you approach it with compassion and gentleness, it will become teachable, lending you its trust so that it may be freed and saved. 

The mane itself is nothing but hair; it doesnt not make a lion a king. Instead, a lion's right to throne was assigned and cannot be taken away. 

Though not all lions will be saved, it is the original destiny of all lions to be heirs to royalty.

Bunnyslaughter**

I ran over a bunny a couple days ago. I'm still not over it. I feel pretty terrible.

It was a drizzly night and i was driving home on a rural road with here-and-there streetlights when all the sudden BA-BOOM I drove over something with my driver's side tire as I saw the tail-end of a bunny shadow running in front of my car. As soon as I look into my rear view all i saw was a small shadow lying in the middle of a road. The thought of its little furry body passing under my seat still haunts me.

I wonder what the bunny was thinking... it literally jumped right in front of my wheel as if it were thinking "Oh hey, here comes a wheel. I think I'll jump in front of it." WHY BUNNY? WHY!!!

My roommate asked me if I'd feel bad running over a possum. I think I could get over it. yeah, yeah I know - that sounds unfair, but it is what it is: Possums are really, really ugly. Here are some animals that I think come close to the ugliness of a possum:

1) star-nosed moles

2) proboscis monkeys

3) lampreys

4) potato bugs

5) oarfish

now tell me you would rather save a bunny's life over one of these.

**I now realize that my make-believe word bunnyslaughter looks like "bunnys laughter." I assure you there was no bunny laughter that evening. Maybe some bunnytears.

Justice

Just finished watching Hotel Rwanda again and it was just as good and powerful as it was the first time - maybe even more powerful this time around. Powerful movies do that. They suck you in and sit you down. Pulled in and set hostage, they won't let your eyes escape even if they wanted to. They share their stories relentlessly as you become less an audience and more a ghost: a quiet existence in the background of onscreen experiences. But at the end of the movie, we're all still ghosts: spectators who float on in life, always flirting with the romance of justice but never manifesting our hands on its responsibility.

I remember standing with my friend Grace Ko on library walk one day handing out red envelopes adressed to President Obama. That's when this girl came up to me and started hounding me with trap-questions about abortion, conception, Women's rights and other lightning rod topics. I could tell she didn't want to really see or understand my point of view and that she just wanted to argue and make me look like a chauvinistic fundamentalist idiot (trust me. it was pretty obvious). The more I listened to her, the more I grew impatient. though I laugh about it now, I remember praying even for patience. That's when she asked me:

"If you care so much about life, why aren't you doing anything about sex-trafficking? systemic poverty? international genocide?"

I was cut deep. half-embarassed and half-angry, I swallowed my guilt and let it run its rightful course because I was exactly that: guilty. I remember feeling naked; I wanted to hide. I hated the idea of being convicted by the one rubbing salt in my wound. I think I still do. 

I wanted to tell her how wrong she was. I wanted to defend myself and brag about how compassionate of a person I thought I was and how I was taking a stand for justice by being on library walk promoting the red letter campaign. In my mind, I wanted to tell her to shut her trap and tell her that there was no way that I could carry all the burdens of the world on my shoulders or how I could never possibly feed all the starving people in the world by myself and that she probably didn't care about anything them either. But I couldn't because no matter how much it hurt to hear those words coming from her lips, it bore a great deal of truth. It reminded me that I must never fall more in love with the idea of social justice than actually being a part of it, lest I become a ghost, clapping and applauding the a film whilst holding little to no regard for the injustice behind the screen. 

When we do nothing, the world continues to burn and people pay the price in blood.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do now. But of this much I'm certain: I must care.

Don Cheadle murders the movie btw. He oozes intensity. sheesh.

The wonder, magic, and intensity of faith.

You cannot be a Christian without being a mystic.

I was talking to a homeless man at a laundry mat recently, and he said that when we reduce Christian spirituality to math we defile the Holy. I thought that was very beautiful and comforting because I have never been good at math. Many of our attempts to understand Christian faith have only cheapened it. I can no more understand the totality of God that the pancake I made for breakfast understands the complexity of me. The little we do understand, that grain of sand on our minds are capable of grasping, those ideas such as God is good, God feels, God loves, God knows all, are enough to keep our hearts dwelling on His majesty and otherness forever.

I love how the Gospels start, with John the Baptist eating bugs and baptizing people. The religious people started getting baptized because it had become popular, and John yells at them and calls them snakes. He says the water wont do anything for them, it will only get their snakeskins wet. But if they meant it, if they had faith that Jesus was coming and was real, then Jesus would ignite the kingdom life within them. I love that because for so long, religion was my false gospel. But there was no magic in it, no wonder, no awe, no kingdom life burning in my chest. And when i get tempted by that same stupid Christian religion, I go back to the beginning of the Gospels and am comforted that there is something more than the emptiness of ritual. God will ignite the kingdom life within me, the Bible says. That's mysticism. It isn't a formula that I am figuring out. It is something God does.

Too much of our time is spent trying to chart God on a grid, and too little is spent allowing our hearts to feel awe. By reducing Christian spirituality to formula, we deprive our hearts of wonder.

- Donald Miller

YES.

do more

A Christian boy since the age of fifteen, you'd think I’d know better.
after all I’ve seen, I’ve still a lot of growing to do
until I can fill in the space in my Father's shoe

I might have written a verse or two
About all the lovey things I’d like to do
Hypocrisy! Yuck, but it’s true.
I’ve yet to find rhythm in what I must

There may be some swag dripping off the splash in my diction
But the friction of conviction re-minds my mind to remind me I must obey
It’s the ghost of a hope in an evil day

You see, I’ve done a lot of learning to love people in clever ways
but talking’s made my walking
lazy.
Though love is described as both a verb and a word,
it remains - at best - just an idea you've heard.

That is, until you do it.
Then it’s like magic,
Though there’s no trick

Am I:
In a cage?
Staring helplessly?
Longing for a chance to show my brother love?
No. debt paid and cage-less, I am a free man.
A free. laaaaazy. man.

Fat and gluttoned off grace,
I’ve dropped the baton during the race
set up camp on the side of the road
and enjoyed the embrace of the destructive broad.

“What is love?”
You can read about it in a book
You can talk about it ‘til your throat runs dry
You can even pull your head back and gaze into the sky
BUT keep in mind –
time is ticking
motivation is fleeting
You’ll never learn to swim ‘til you jump in

It isn’t love until you do it. It really isn’t.

I’m poor!
though my wallets packs a few bills,
these sermons sound good but they can’t fulfill spiritual thrills.
There’s more to life than Sundays,
God plans to end my life with a bang, not a sigh.
And for that? I’d gladly give it to him
than to half-ass another hymn.

Though I’m not old, my heart is bold
Though I have fl aws I won’t give pause
I’m selling my gold to hold. More.

I’m heading into the darkest part of town to plant some life 

with seeds from heaven
Cause the hungry ones are the most ignored
Little do they know, theirs is the Lord’s reward.

I should stop writing. I’m off to fill in some shoes.

big picture

Christian culture: What parts of it are holy and what parts of it are man-made?

Falling in love with Jesus was and is amazing. The sky didn't crack open. There weren't any angels doing the electric slide. But committing my life to Jesus would change me forever: after seeing how awesome He was, there has never been anything that has come close to his goodness in my life. He loves me, encourages me, comforts me in my depression, and strengthens me to have self-control instead of want. When I realized how much Jesus meant to me, I knew that he was would forever be my first love and that his word would reign supreme over that of any man's word in my life.

For this reason, we must inevitably find ourselves asking "why do I do the Christian things that I do? Do we apply patterns in christian lifestyle because it is holy or because it seems holy?"

not to say that these "Christian things" or other parts of Christian culture are bad. Indeed, many of them purport strong discipleship and growth. however, things that seem biblical may not actually be biblical; what may start as a good intention, without biblical roots, can be cancerous to our relationship with Him. We may end up doing things for reasons that we do not even know; we may be taking the words of man in place of God's.

Why do we follow specifications for the sabbath? do we feel guilty when we worship on a day other than Sunday? do we freak out when we worship with friends at home instead of a building? if so, why?

"Have you never read what David did, when he was in need and was hungry, he and those who were with him: how he entered the house of God, in the time of Abiathar the high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and also gave it to those who were with him? The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. So the Son of Man is lord even of the Sabbath."

We obey to demonstrate that he is Lord. He is not Lord because we demonstrate.

My destiny is not to struggle, it is to overcome.

I'm not a fan of generalizing or categorizing people because we are deeply multi-dimensional beings. if one generalization could be made, it is that we cannot generalize one another. myers-briggs, horoscopes, blood types, not only typify people, but it leads us to believe that we all fall under one of those categories and that's the way life is. 

this is not true: we are capable of change, but only when we realize it. life moves in stages and ages and we change through these seasons. 

you are your own person and you make your own choices. you may only be summed up in words or categories - at best - for a short while. the rest is up to you...

Hold dearly to childhood passion and ambition or forfeit your inner strength. Somewhere inbetween the years of growing up and insecurity, we forget that the world is our oyster. seek out that narrow path you know exists; the path of living life without regrets.

Allow your fate to measure up to your destiny - your destiny to have life in abundance.

"I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

-Jesus, John 10:10

dance: a love-hate thing.

I never really danced in high school. Once in a while I'd turn a Relient K song and have a solo mosh pit in my room pretending I was in a music video. But I donno if you want to call that dancing....it was moving rhythmically to music...so i guess it sort of qualifies (but not really).

I never understood why people loved to dance so much. To tell you the truth, I used to think dancing was lame - or should i say - stylized dancing was lame. I remember during my 7th grade middle school dance nights, we'd do "the epilepsy" to teen classic jams such as "california love" or "YMCA" and I remember having the best time of my life because no one really cared what we looked like, and to me, that smorgasbord of unorganized energy was dancing. It wasn't pretty, but it was fun. I guess that's why I felt so weird when I saw battles because dancing became a competition; a "who's cooler" algorithm of rehearsed moves to gain prepubescent street cred.

Some of my friends in highschool would breakdance and session in their garages while I stood by in my grey dickies and band t-shirts sweeping my mullet-bangs to the side of my face. It just never clicked for me I guess: the whole idea of organized dancing. In highschool, I thought I was so cool because I was a drummer in my school's marching band because everyone knows that all the badass kids are in the marching band. If you've ever seen the movie drumline, you'd know: even black people were in marching bands and EVERYONE knows that black people invented cool. If that weren't bad enough, I was also a drummer in the orchestra, wind ensemble, rock band, and jazz band, so i guess that made me mr. rebel cool kid #1. I don't have any regrets about being in band by the way. It remains my true love and all the experiences from traveling and creating beautiful music will always hold a special place in my heart.

So whenever my non-dancing friends see me, they say 

"ohhh shoot, look it's 'DUH DaNsSuhhhh!!'" (emphasis on the DUH). 

I guess it's not a bad thing, but I feel slimy when I hear it. It feels like they got the wrong guy. In fact, whenever I heard that, it'd make me cringe just a little bit. Not talking about it makes me feel like there's an elephant in the room, but in reality, I feel a lot like the elephant. It doesn't belong!

College marked an ironic twist of events for me as I ended up joining a choreography team called UCSD Ascension. It introduced me to a performance world of adrenaline as we'd dance in front of crowds full of cool kids. To tell you the honest truth, I liked it because I felt really cool. That sounds so cheesy, but I liked the spotlight. Maybe that's why it's fueled me to take classes and push myself to achieve as a dancer. Being cool felt good. But inside, I'm not really looking to be dope. In fact, I am a geek at heart. I just want to enjoy my craft, and the enjoyment is running dry these days. I know its there and I'd like to catch onto it, but it's slippery.

The team I currently dance with is filled with some of the best dancers in the world. And I mean filled. Many of them have toured with international superstars and even starred in music videos and ABDC. It was my dream last year to make it onto the team and it's still a surreal experience because dreams are rarely realized. To me, straight A's are within the realm of possibility, but becoming a dinosaur is not. Becoming a dinosaur is a dream and so was making it onto the current dance crew I'm on. 

Even now, when I go to practice, I feel like I'm on mars and I ask myself "what am I doing here?" Though my non-dancing friends praise me a lot for being able to make it onto a high calibur team, it's somewhat incomplete for me. Not because I can't achieve my own goals, but because I lack passion for it, and though I'd like to have more, its difficult to comeby. It simply doesnt please me as much as playing music. Maybe its just a phase but thats the way I feel for now. Pain reveals where we turn for comfort in our lives. Some people dance, but I dont. I sing and play guitar or fall asleep on my couch tapping a djembe. I find a great deal of life in being a musician, and I'm trying to catch onto the same relief in being a dancer.

I'm looking at this post and I can't sit still with it. It's gone in a lot of different directions and almost sounds depressing, but I assure you, I'm not depressed. I'm just trying to figure out what role dance should play in my life. There's no fairytale ending here to all the stuff coming out of my fingertips, but I guess that's why it's an honest drop in the bucket.

breathing the excitement back

Hello old friend. Time to bare the 'ol soul.

I think I love the idea of control. Especially over things like what job I'll have or how I'll live. If i could, I would frame all my plans in a neat little cherry-glass frame and fold my arms in admiration. It is pretty awesome. I love control.

My American dream is set in scenic Monterey, California. Its sleepy mornings always linger as if the land itself were half-awake as veils of mist roll over the large oak beams of my home. The view is a thief, stealing breaths through views that frame grassy cliffs overlooking the white sands of Carmel, its turquoise shores, and the constant salty breeze that floats through the window as if it were on tap. It’s perfect: far from the sting of reality. I am happy and it is everything I want: security, comfort, peace. It is my fantasy waiting to be realized. My escape.

When life is an eye-sore, I just want to shut my eyes. Do you ever feel like that? I want my sea-cliff home. I want my $100,000 guitar. I want my Steinway piano. I want to numb it all away, hoping that it will.

Please try to feel me. Is it our desire as Americans to escape reality? To turn a blind eye to the suffering? Is there really more to life than getting rich, being happy, and dying? Or do we really just want to bask so deeply in applause that it drowns out the moans of people with needs? I don't want to fall asleep in luxury while somewhere, the sky is falling. I know that no matter how much I sit there on that patio enjoying the Monterey sunset, reality is still there tapping on my shoulder.

The dream is just a dream. Its cheap fabrications are lined with plastic. It just seems fake and unsatisfying.

Kanye has said some ridiculous things but he's right when he said "The highest up are often the most down low." How is it that the more we hold on to our lives, the more it crumbles apart? Often times, what we’d like to control often controls us: our lifestyles, our jobs, our fears. They consume us, dictate our feelings, and direct our actions. It almost seems crazy that God wants us to loosen our grip over our lives to trust that He has the best intentions for our lives. But that’s the funny thing that I’ve discovered: the less plans I try to make and the more I listen to what He has to say, the more peace and stability there is in my life. I think it’s because of the love he showers on me. His love is a pretty wild thing. It doesn’t obey the law of reason and it knows no boundaries. Even though I’ve disappointed him countless times, He continues to love me and encourage me. It’s that sort of wilderness about His love that captures my imagination – my desire.

I believe at the end of the day, we’re all looking for the love of a good father; a love that is unconditional. It’s the type of love that sees you for who you are – good and bad –and loves you regardless. The problem is that we’re looking for the right thing in all the wrong places: wealth, fame, status, etc. After my long search, the only person I know that can provide that sort of love day after day without fail is God. We can’t expect to fill the God-shaped hole in our hearts with anything otherwise.

I’m a total believer in enjoying life, but there’s a very fine line between happiness and ignorance. When it’s crossed, we lie to ourselves by convincing ourselves that we’re happy with our wealth and achievements. However, there is very little difference between folding our hands over our eyes and retreating to our million dollar homes. We're running from reality. A good friend of mine once said that all sunshine and no rain make for a desert. Life isn’t always sunshine as much as we’d like it to be. We need to understand that storms come and sometimes, we need them to remind us that there are deeper things in life.

So maybe the American dream is not so much a dream as it is a delusion because there is no "there" once you get there. It’s very possible that the only thing worse than planning what we want is when we actually get it. How many millionaires have been met with disappointment and a lingering for more after accomplishing the dreams of their youth? We can’t expect lifeless things to breathe life into ours. Even when we place our hope in our friends and family, they can fail us. It almost begs the question of whether there is anything in life that is constant and always there. I’ve only found one trustworthy person whom I can place my trust and hope: Jesus.

A lot of people say that Jesus is a crutch for the weak in spirit, but I am convinced that true strength is found in becoming like Him. I mean, If someone hurts you, it’s easy to give into our primal desire to repay an eye for an eye, but it takes true strength to humble oneself and to forgive an enemy. It’s hard to love people. But I want to be strong. And I know that the strength of the arm pales in comparison to the strength of humility. Jesus is seriously hardcore.

If you’ve ever felt like God doesn’t know you or care about you because you feel like an average person, don’t feel that way. He cares about you. He cares about your future. If you don’t believe me, find a bible and locate the verse Jeremiah 29:11.

There’s so much treasure to be hand when we understand that it’s not the achievements in life that make it succulent, but it’s the love of God that makes me confident that life is being lived to its fullest. His passionate love that he offers you is incomparable to any amount of fame, wealth, or even a woman's love. Welcome to a life with Jesus! He is so good that once you've had a taste of how good he is, everything else in life pales in comparison to what I can only describe as a mix of incredible joy, peace, and fulfillment. I'd humiliate myself for Him.

More than anything, He wants to make your life exciting. He wants to partner with you, to be a reliable friend. I know it sounds hard to believe, but that’s what faith is. Before you pursue a relationship with Him, I make an honest warning: He will completely change your life and you'll never come across anything better in your life.

Dare to believe that there’s someone on the other end of your prayers. For one faithful moment, loose your control over life.

When you lose your life, you’ll find it. In abundance.