Bottlecap Games

soaring weightlessly
between the fibers of space,
breathing the prayer that
God would open Heaven

where this gift could unfold
and light break through
like a bolt
through this dry cold numb shell

into a bustle, into a melody
of people moving to and fro
playing their own tunes
and then stopping to listen to another

the veins and vessels
intersect
everywhere
and makes everything glad

the chords and the chorus
opens the heart
of the poor man passing by
alone

and the sprite lad
tells his story
to the audience of few
who adore

like a bottlecap game
in the midst of chaos
making the universe silent
with meaning

soaring through the
hustle and bustle
and waiting for my turn
to shine

Guilt & the Conscience

The "conscience" is a mystery of the mind, and of living. In many ways, its mystery is at the center of the question of "being" and the "pursuit of righteousness." There is much to be curious about.

Guilt, for instance. Of course, it is widely known that guilt is often neurotic and based not in health but in pseudoreality. Fear of an abusive husband who really is, emotional or otherwise, is a fear based in a "real" danger, who could deny it? But an irrational fear that a spider is crawling on you is "neurotic." Unless of course you are walking under a doorway or through a barn where a spider fell onto you yesterday, or a month ago, or even two years ago. But if when you walk through a mall, or stand in a stall, or get a phone call, you cringe at the thought that a spider might be on you, well that is unmistakably neurotic, for the danger is likely not present and the fear, therefore, irrational. The fear may simply be a minor neuroticism, and so be justified to be called a "quirk," or be much more severe, and so be justified to be called an "anxiety," or "neurosis."

Then there are the existential fears: the fear of pain, of loneliness, or of death. The fear is in response to a mystery of life, of that which is a present possibility but unknown. The whole idea of this fear is unusual and intriguing. It is not necessarily considered neurotic unless it consumes one's sense of self or obstructs the ability to meet the challenges of living.

So anyhow, guilt is much the same as fear, in these ways.

But what of "real" guilt? What of the gray areas? What of the question of conscience? Say, if a certain Christian feels "guilty" after watching American Pie or listening to Eminem due to the perversion of sexuality or the excessiveness of explitives... is that guilt merited? Is it neurosis or discernment? The Holy Spirit or the socialization process? Is it conscience? These are curiosities that we have long been curious about. And on which some of us are adamant and others dumbfounded.

C.S. Lewis wrote that we are each given a sort of raw material, perhaps the substance of self, whether socialized or ingrained, out of which we have certain feelings or impulses, and these influence our ideas and desires in regard to how we live and what we choose. Each of us begins and now functions with a whole different raw design or framework, different material. Out of this we must act and choose and live. But our raw material is not what makes us "ethical" or "moral." Instead, the nature of "morality" lies in the acts and choices, in what we make of the raw material, in how we fair with it.

"When a neurotic who has a pathological horror of cats forces himself to pick up a cat for some good reason, it is quite possible that in God's eyes he has shown more courage than a healthy man hay have shown in winning the V.C. When a man who has been perverted from his youth and taught that cruelty is the right thing, does some tiny little kindness, or refrains from some cruelty he might have committed, and thereby, perhaps risks being sneered at by his companions, he may, in God's eyes, be doing more than you and I would do if we gave up life itself for a friend."

And so we are told by God not to judge. Not to judge and yet to hold those "in faith" accountable to some degree. For instance, if one friend feels a certain "conviction" about not watching movies like American Pie or listening to music like Eminem's, or about saying "shit" or drinking beer, or wine, or about not reading or appreciating Scripture "rightly," then how should this friend act, or choose, in this way, so as to do "right" in the way of conscience and not wrongly? And to do this without offending the brother, whether this brother is "in Christ" (or, for that matter, is someone who cares very little about Christ). How, should I say, is the Body supposed to function, at this point?

For, these days, to cultivate and enjoy the community of our brethren seems like such an exhausting task. The Leftist thinkers only want to hold brethren accountable for breaches of their particular "code of social ethics," while the thinkers on the Right only want to hold brethren accountable for breaches of their particular "code of individual morality." Then there are the emerging Postmodern thinkers in the Christian community who simply want everyone to leave everyone alone and just go on enjoying the beauty of God in all things and all the great fellowship minus accountability. (These summations of these three groups are greatly narrow and unfair, yet I mean to echo what I have often heard in the crossfire.)

And so, out of your own particular "raw material," you may choose your own particular "social ethic" or "individual morality" or "community of love and not judgment." But just wait, if you listen, and listen well, you will hear at least the faint subtleties of conscience. And what will it tell you? And what will you do about it?

The Balancing Weight

There once was a Woman
who failed to wear
a hat in church
and was stoned.

There once was a Woman
who stood up and spoke
in Church
and was stoned.

There once was a Woman
who was raped
and beaten
whose Christian assembly stoned her dead.

There once was a Woman
whose development was stunted
by a culture of fallen humanity
for this she was rejected, despised, even stoned.

There once was a Woman
who was murdered
because her skin was darker
than those who stoned her.

There once was a Woman
who preached the authority and goodness of Christ
and whose life was taken
and was, in this way, stoned.

There was once a deadbeat dad and abusive husband
saved but full of shit and fire
but was promoted and honored at the church banquet
for his faithful service to the community.

(Re)Familiarity

After getting off of work tonight at 7:00, Craig will be on his way to spend almost 24 hours with us, and we are excited to have his company.

I haven't gotten to spend much time with Craig in awhile. And I won't this weekend either. Not "much," at least. That's how it has been with most... wait, all... of my close friends (except, of course, Karla) for about two and a half years now. And that is sad. And nostalgic. And numbing.

Now, when I speak to Craig... or Aaron, or Jason, or Mark, or Robert, or Josh, or Justin, or Brandon, or Daniel, or Cory, or others... it is, well, awkward. At least to a degree. And this, I am learning, is one of those natural evils of living away from friends. C.S. Lewis once wrote, "Sacrifice almost everything so you can live where you can be near your friends." I was reminded of this in an entry entitled "Diaspora" on The Stumbling Runner's blog (an excellent watchblog).

The Runner's response to Lewis was, "It's a novel thought. A heart-warming notion. But in our society, it is a far-fetched impossibility. We don't choose our home based on its proximity to our friends. At least that's not the case for most of us. We choose our home based on career moves."

Career moves, educational moves, random choices... whatever. Pick your reason. Lewis had something going there, certainly a novel thought, and it is something to chew on.

Oh, I don't mean forsaking the Journey for the sake of living in proximity. But at least that friendship is sacred, and worth its salt. Worth the effort. Worth the phone calls. Worth even letters. Worth... the awkwardness. Because life moves on; and because awkwardness, combined with an honest dose of desire, often paves the way to (re)familiarity. And the reason why this is worth it is because new friendships are great, but not sacred, yet anyway.

But the old ones, the ones that have been invested in, worked on, fought about, cherished, weathered... distanced... those are the ones with depth... and history. And if the cover is dusted, and if the desire is sincere, friendship will almost always come back to life. When it does, it is as if Winter has turned to Spring. It is Beauty. And it is missed.

And so I await Craig. I have missed him. Knowing him. Spending random time with him. Having random conversations with him. And deep, earth-shattering ones. And cleaning his apartment.

The truth is, I have missed Aaron, Robert, Jason, Justin, Josh, Brandon, Daniel, Cory, and others, as well. I have missed the community I once had... those I've mentioned, and others, like Fortenberry, Kevin Durham, Blake Coleman, Chi, Cornel, David Ritsema, Steven Duke, Clint Crowder, Brian Griffin, Luke Addington, Chris Schaeffer, and... others.

Still life goes on, the world turns, we change and move, miss the past but stay excited about our futures. But hey, don't forget me, and don't think I don't still care. And if you're out there and get this, call me. Despite... the awkwardness.

A Real Healing

community is where
all our yesterdays converge
into the present moment

where
all our tomorrows
are birthed

and our souls
become
raptured

death can sing
because they surround the pain
in love

possibility will remain
because of all that is healed
by their presence.