The Rekindlement

then it Ended, leaving only
memory; fading
into a jitter and twitch
toward distant twilight

obscured, a swarth
(imagined) against the darkened moon
yet gleaming at the edge of nothing
with the burst and crack of fear

and all silence.

...

with that deep gulp of Death, immersed in some Great Fountain, agasp in Joy;
bedazzled by the untetherable ache of a full midday beam
and cloaked by an immaterial glow, a soul swollen
by the very first true fear, unadulterated, naked, vulnerability...

Then,
singing.

...

"You must be strong with my strength and blessed with my blessedness, for I have no other to give you."

in the Culmination, beauty and fullness.
yet in the silence: this aching, unbendable
Fear. yet alongside it, before it, and beyond...the only Consoling Mystery.

...

we in Togetherness,
with no masquerade; instead, utter unknowing
filled with final certainty. It is finished.

...

choosing to embrace that life that is
by faith, by faith, by faith...

Open Letter to My Friend Aaron

Aaron, I have known you since fifth grade when we met at Jason and Adam's seventh grade football game at the old Rabbits stadium, Bivins Trice. Those were the days. I remember showing you under the stands through a breach in the chain-linked fence at the far end of the stands. It was your first time down there, and I showed you how to get down to find those little plastic footballs that had fallen between seats and under the bleachers.

You have always been the most articulate, thorough, and thoughtful guy around... even hands down the most humble and kind, though it's ironic to me to know that so many of the people who read these blogs don't know you in those ways.

Anyhow, in C-X Debate, you were clearly the legitimate one. I was full of gas the vast majority of the time. Even after I spent fourteen days, eleven hours a day, studying about the U.S. foreign defense policies with Russia, while you were at home playing basketball, somehow it continued to be you, your combination of intellect, prior knowledge, sharp articulation of the facts, and wit that ruled both our duo and, often, our opponents.

I have always looked up to you. That is meant, of course, literally in reference to those years when you were several inches taller than me, when you were so confidently telling us how you would would even progressively gain far more height through the years to come, in accordance with your Dad's medical "prophecy." And, it is meant figuratively about everything else: the fact that you were the leader, or at least one of the leaders, of the very large pack of cool kids in elementary school who would go play Nerf Turbo football together after lunch and, in the off-season, a little "Union vs. Confederacy" Civil War action; you were also, despite being cool, clearly one of the most intelligent and kind students in the entire school, all the way through junior high and high school, and into college at ETBU; you dated multiple Mandy's in junior high before meeting and falling in love with my cousin Joni in seventh grade, earning a song written about you by Matt and Will, "Aaron, OH Aaron, it looks like Mandy lost your love again, but that's okay (repeat)"; you were our better half as C-X Debate partners; you were the leader in every aspect of leadership for our band, Fishers of Men; and you not only taught me many things about life, relationships, and theology, but you have loved me like a brother in so many ways that I will never again remember and others that I will never forget.

Honestly, I would have never guessed as a fifth grader, a seventh grader, a sophomore, senior, or freshman college student, that I would ever get to a place in life where I would disagree with you much about anything except how to arrange your bedroom (which I would continue to clean and rearrange for you, even though you're married...because she's my cousin, and I am just cool like that...if not for the fact that you now live in Louisville and I in Seattle, strangely, rather than East Texas). These last few years it has become increasingly dissonant in my conscience and memory, this way we have polarized in some of our ways of thinking.

Don't you forget that I'm the one who bought you Desiring God, your first John Piper book, when we lived in Feagin Hall together our freshman year in that neat little basement dorm room for your nineteenth birthday. I like that little fact because it gives me some sense of pride that, however the many influences on your thinking, somehow that one random book I gave you played some small insignificant role in your passionate beginnings as a deeply Reformed theologian. Memories like that will always be meaningful to me, if for no other reason than reminding me that, even in the most incidental ways, somehow I have mattered to certain people in this life. Yes, when Aaron O'Kelley becomes a famous NBA basketball player, I would tell myself with sincere belief in you about this, because I felt you wanted it, he will remember me, and I will have mattered to him.

I actually found myself jealous for your friendship at times. I remember in elementary school not really knowing this Clint Crowder character and being envious of the wit that so casually played out between you. I wanted to be able to create comic books with you, and I wanted to be in Mrs. I. Davis' classroom with you; yet, he was, and I wasn't. Our freshman year of high school, Hayden desperately wanted to be your C-X Debate partner, and she was obviously the rational choice, when it came to doing what was right for the U.I.L. teams, what she wanted, what Mrs. T. probably wanted, and my guess is that it was what you were leaning towards wanting too. She was much sharper than me as a speaker, thinker, and debater. I pleaded with you to take me as your partner because I imagined all the fun times we would have together and how cool I would be in that role, not because I had any real passion for the event, the subject areas we would cover, or the responsibilities that would ensue. Yet you chose me, gritting your teeth, disappointing Hayden, with hesitancy, I'm sure, but you chose me. Thank you for that.

You were my college roommate right up to about a month before you married my cousin. You endured the silliness of me being upset at you in junior high because when we went downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack, I thought the chocolate milk pouring onto the counter and floor (which I was accidentally pouring there because I couldn't see in the dark well enough to pour it into our glasses!), was you making some strange noise. I was emphatic that you be quiet so as not to wake my parents, and when we flipped that light on and realized it was the chocolate milk making all the noise, we laughed so hard, it was a miracle we didn't have an anurism. You came by that night your Dad gave you the Sunfire on your sixteenth birthday to drive me around in your new ride. You never came down on me too hard for being immature and short-sighted about girls I dated ("I really think she's the one this time!"). ;)

Since we don't live together anymore... or even near each other... you're not around to rub off on me anymore. Whatever the reason, I have developed some basic foundational values that have, in large part, re-determined my theological stances on various issues of faith and life. I have let these host of values guide a reconstruction of my doctrinal perspectives, and I am very clear on the fact that, from your perspective, this is a backward and dangerous method of constructing one's worldview. I would argue that Scripture has deeply informed my worldview by virtue of the fact that the meta-story and gospel truths of Jesus Christ have been embedded into my memory and etched into my sense of discernment and reasoning. Yet I know that you would argue, wisely, that any worldview that is not fully grounded on the foundation of Scripture is a house built on the sand. The rain here in Seattle is sure to wash me clear away, eh?

I am certainly not an advanced theologian, and my hermeneutical methodology is less methodological than I would like everyone to believe about me. But, I know most people see through that facade easily enough, most of all you, one who has known me and not just the mystery of me. We all know, deep down, that we're not as mysterious as we'd like to think we are, but I couldn't even pretend to be that person of mystery in the face of the level of familiarity that a friend like me has with a friend like you.

Let me just make some things clear before the fog of this entry settles into the status quo of our typical rants and dialogues: I mostly just write posts for the mere reason of having friends read something I've written; I mostly only comment on your blogs so that you might be more likely to then visit my blog, because I've probably just written a new post... or I just want your attention... not because I have, or think I have, anything clever to say; and though my theological and doctrinal biases and perspectives are thoughtful and sincere, they are always, to the degree at which I am blinded, ignorant, and/or lazy, myopic, and compared with the degree at which I value your friendship, meaningless.

Call me a liberal, but your community, your friendship, mean far more to me than my opinions (okay, okay, I'm clearly making myself sound more humble-minded than I really am). And, I know that you, though you would provide a disclaimer that nothing, not even our friendship, could stand between you and the version of the gospel that you uphold (as opposed to my version), at the end of the day, I believe that neither of us will actually let anything keep us from truly loving the other, even if we never even talk to each other on the phone anymore, due to the convenience and trap of blogmania. This, to me... this sense of will and vulnerability in everyday life, choosing always the marrow of good, relationship, community, and perservering with others in the experience of expressing faith through love... is God's way of bringing each of us, by our varied vehicles, from our distant states, and in many different manners of transformation and belonging, into the beautiful courts of His Kingdom, though we be so often unaware.

In Response to Craig's "Tag"

Four Jobs I've Had

1. Schlotsky's Deli - Sandwich Artist / Clerk
2. Tully's Coffee, Magnolia (Seattle) - Barista
3. Seattle Children's Museum - Visitor Services Assistant
4. T Bar M Sports Camp - Tennis Coach / Youth Counselor

Four Movies I'd Watch on Repeat

1. Gladiator
2. It's A Wonderful Life
3. A River Runs Through It
4. Good Will Hunting

Four TV Shows I Love

1. Seinfeld
2. Commander In Chief
3. Oprah
4. The Charlie Rose Show

Four Vacation Locales I'd Like to Hit

1. The Cayman Islands
2. Paris
3. Vienna
4. Toronto

Four Websites I Visit Daily

1. Hotmail
2. Google
3. University Presbyterian Church, Seattle
4. Various Blogs

Four Foods I Enjoy

1. Teriyaki Madness - teriyaki chicken, rice, & cucumber salad
2. Thai Tom - chicken phad thai & rice
3. My own homemade tortilla soup
4. Olympia Pizza & Spaghetti House - chicken, artichoke, & sun-dried tomato pizza

Four Changes I'd Make to the House

1. Double the square footage
2. Quadruple the deck size
3. Private office / study
4. 50" TV for movies

Four Beers I Like

1. Dos Equis Lager
2. Mac & Jack Lager
3. Newcastle Brown Ale
4. Pacifico Lager

Four Tags

1. Robert B.
2. Christy E.
3. Melissa L.
4. Karla E.

Choice, Will, & Redemption

What if spiritual growth and decline, like market investment, both appreciated with a compounding interest. As a young adolescent, I began to think in these terms, with a hunch that mustering a small amount of courage to leap one hurdle, in common social affections, filial relationship, even the more risky "agape" form of love, the next step of progress would be more quickly forthcoming.

There seems to be a certain meaninglessness in orienting one's sense of well-being and fulfillment on the chance of material gain or fiscal "return." Such thinking can lead a person to grave disappointment. An investor who is addicted to the stock ticker, staking himself on the hopes of at least an "equitable" return, will almost certainly earn less than will satisfy. And so it is, whatever our poison, that we often become disgruntled and disillusioned with life when its deepest marrow of meaning eludes us. It was in this vein that the Preacher of Ecclesiastes feared that all was merely "a chasing after the wind," that there was "no profit under the sun."

Investing in our spiritual growth, rather, is productive due to the very fact that it does not fixate on meaningless things nor is the type that is blinded to the beauty of life's grandeur...but develops a capacity for loving others and appreciating the depth of meaning in even the mundane. The earthly counsel of Job measured spiritual health according to the false merits of existential comfort, and the "health and wealth" evangelists of our day breed not more joy but more insecurity, not more money but more anxiety. In no sense do we spiritually, materially, or otherwise, "profit" in conjunction with our degree of dutifulness. Yet, there seems to be a strong conjunction between "will and vulnerability," or the desire for true Goodness and the capacity to enact it, and our assumption of spiritual, or some may call existential, vigor.

At least to some degree, I believe that spiritual fullfillment comes by way of "will and vulnerability," the micro-recognitions of sin, grace, and choice, the micro-choosings of Good and Relationship, the very enactments of the micro-redemptive processes of our everyday lives.

We Christians define ourselves as if who we think we are "deep down" and sincerely desire to be somehow takes precedence and priority over our real actions. Our own personal identities, rather than based on the more obvious tendencies, desires, and enactments of our everyday lives, tend to be either based on our ideals or our insecurities. It is no wonder, given our self-ascribed definitions, that we experience repulsion at the doctrine that describes a "total depravity of Mankind," when in all actuality the evidence literally stares us in the face every morning. Yet, if our focus was not even toward ourselves but God Himself, our entire sense of spiritual orientation could be rejuvenated.

Our sense of choice is skewed by our sense of self. And so we choose based not on the Good that we would ascent to, but to the "good" that we desire, a carnal lust that determines us, not merely to the degree that we choose it, but to a greater degree, for sin also operates on a sort of cosmic Economic. We chase after the wind, and we get not a cool breeze in return, but a rabid windstorm. And so when we chase after Good, we run into not just Relationship, but God Himself.

Our capacity to choose changes constantly with our practice of life. The longer we continue to make the wrong decisions, the more our heart hardens; the more often we make the right decision, the more our heart softens--or better perhaps, comes alive. ...Each step in life which increases my self-confidence, my integrity, my courage, my conviction also increases my capacity to choose the desirable alternative, until eventually it becomes more difficult for me to choose the undesirable rather than the desirable action. On the other hand, each act of surrender and cowardice weakens me, opens the path for more acts of surrender, and eventually freedom is lost. Between the extreme when I can no longer do a wrong act and the extreme when I have lost my freedom to right action, there are innumerable degrees of freedom of choice. In the practice of life the degree of freedom to choose is different at any given moment. If the degree of freedom to choose the good is great, it needs less effort to choose the good. If it is small, it takes a great effort, help from others, and favorable circumstances...Most people fail in the art of living not because they are inherently bad or so without will that they cannot lead a better life; they fail because they do not wake up and see when they stand at a fork in the road and have to decide. They are not aware when life asks them a question, and when they still have alternative answers. Then with each step along the wrong road it becomes increasingly difficult for them to admit that they are on the wrong road, often only because they have to admit that they must go back to the first wrong turn, and must accept the fact that they have wasted energy and time.

(Erich Fromm, The Heart of Man: Its Genius for Good and Evil, pp. 173-178).

We find ourselves on the wrong path not just because when the road diverged in the wood, we took the wrong one, but because at every juncture, it either becomes more wooded or more well lit, more difficult or more easy to discern which path might, in fact, be the better one. This is the very nature of Pride. If it is true that "Pride goeth before the Fall," it must also be true that Pride, at every turn, descends further and further, and more sharply down, until, instead of Fall, it could better be described as Abyss. The path to Heaven is likewise.

In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis brilliantly portrays the journey towards Heaven and Hell in a number of characters whose degree of choice, will, and redemption is experienced in conjunction with the degree to which they have already chosen, willed, and either accepted or rejected shards of that which is Redemptive. The beauty of this truth, as shown in the following story, is that the Redemptive shards, in even grazing the ear of a sinner, can have the power to restore not just that sinner, but literally turn his burdens to majestic creatures of holiness...

I saw coming towards us a Ghost who carried something on his shoulder. Like all the Ghosts, he was unsubstantial, but they differed from one another as smokes differ. Some had been whitish; this one was dark and oily. What sat on his shoulder was a little red lizard, and it was twitching its tail like a whip and whispering things in his ear. As we caught sight of him he turned his head to the reptile with a snarl of impatience. 'Shut up, I tell you!' he said. It wagged its tail and continued to whisper to him. He ceased snarling, and presently began to smile. Then he turned and started to limp westward, away from the mountains.

'Off so soon?' said a voice.

The speaker was more or less human in shape but larger than a man, and so bright that I could hardly look at him. His presence smote on my eyes and on my body too (for there was heat coming from him as well as light) like the morning sun at the beginning of a tyrannous summer day.

'Yes. I'm off,' said the Ghost. 'Thanks for all your hospitality. But it's no good, you see. I told this little chap.' (here he indicated the lizard), 'that he'd have to be quiet if he came--which he insisted on doing. Of course his stuff won't do here: I realise that. But he won't stop. I shall just have to go home.'

'Would you like me to make him quiet?' said the flaming Spirit--an angel, as I now understood.

'Of course I would,' said the Ghost.

'Then I will kill him,' said the Angel, taking a step forward.

'Oh--ah--look out! You're burning me. Keep away,' said the Ghost, retreating.

'Don't you want him killed?'

'You didn't say anything about killing him at first. I hardly meant to bother you with anything so drastic as that.'

'It's the only way,' said the Angel, whose burning hands were now very close to the lizard. 'Shall I kill it?'

'Well, that's a further question. I'm quite open to consider it, but it's a new point isn't it? I mean, for the moment I was only thinking about silencing it because up here--well, it's so damned embarrassing.'

'May I kill it?'

...'Honestly, I don't think there's the slightest necessity for that. I'm sure I shall be able to keep it in order now. I think the gradual process would be far better than killing it.'

'The gradual process is of no use at all.'

'Don't you think so? Well, I'll think over what you've said very carefully. I honestly will. In fact I'd let you kill it now, but as a matter of fact I'm not feeling frightfully well today. It would be silly to do it now. I'd need to be in good health for the operation. Some other day, perhaps.'

'There is no other day. All days are present now...'

....'Damn and blast you! Go on can't you? Get it over. Do what you like,' bellowed the Ghost: but ended, whimpering, 'God help me. God help me.'

Next moment the Ghost gave a scream of agony such as I have never heard on Earth. The Burning One closed his crimson grip on the reptile: twisted it, while it bit and writhed, and then flung it, broken backed, on the turf.

'Ow! That's done for me,' gasped the Ghost reeling backwards.

For a moment I could make out nothing distinctly. Then I saw, between me and the nearest bush, unmistakably solid but growing every moment solider, the upper arm and the shoulder of a man. Then, brighter still and stronger, the legs and hands. The neck and golden head materialised while I watched, and if my attention had not wavered I should have seen the actual completing of a man--an immense man, naked, not much smaller than the Angel.

What distracted me was the fact that the same moment something seemed to be happening to the Lizard. At first I thought the operation had failed. So far from dying, the creature was still struggling and even growing bigger as it struggled. And as it grew it changed. Its hinder parts grew rounder. The tail, still flickering, became a tail of hair that flickered between huge and glossy buttocks. Suddenly I started back, rubbing my eyes. What stood before me was the greatest stallion I have ever seen, silvery white but with mane and tail of gold. It was smooth and shining, rippled with swells of flesh and muscle, whinneying and stamping with its hoofs. At each stamp the land shook and the trees dindled.

(The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis, pp. 96-100)

Just as sin is the yeast of a hardened heart, Redemption is the great contagion of God Himself, raging ruthlessly into the hearts of His children to the degree that we avail ourselves to receive it. We who receive not ask not, and we tend to "ask not" all too often. Yet when the most humble bit of Charity reaches past the gates of our Pride, the gates don't just come open, the walls come down. For the qualities that birth any small Good contain the momentum to obliterate our Perpetrations. Given the state of our hearts, we are at far greater risk from the righteous hand of God than from the Enemy.

A Walk Around a Lake

'Sooner or later it will be over, she said, 'and nothing will be left.'

I tried to bring her to recognize that the transitoriness of life does not detract from its meaningfulness. I was not successful so I tried a Socratic dialogue. 'Have you ever met a man,' I asked her, 'for whose achievement and accomplishment you have great respect?' 'Certainly,' she answered, 'our family doctor was a unique person. How he cared for his patients, how he lived for them...' 'He died?' I inquired. 'Yes,' she answered. 'But his life was exceedingly meaningful, wasn't it,' I asked. 'If anyone's life is meaningful his life was,' she said. 'But wasn't this meaningfulness done away with at the moment at which his life was finished?' I asked her. 'In no way,' she answered, 'nothing can alter the fact that his life was meaningful.'

But I continued challenging her: 'And what if not a single patient ever remembers what he owes to your family doctor,' due to lack of gratitude?' 'It remains,' she murmured. 'Or due to lack of memory?' 'It remains.' 'Or due to the fact that one day the last patient will have died?' It remains...'

Every obstacle in life requires an act of will and vulnerability, the capacity for binocular vision and choosing good, and true courage over complacent laziness and stupidity. Naivete isn't the deep evil. Staring bold-faced into the eyes of your deepest sense of soul and taking a large bite out of the apple... laziness, stupidity. Evil. It veils itself, it consumes.

Lord grant us serenity. Grant us wisdom. Grant us hope.

The problems that life presents to us require will and vulnerability. They require heart, depth. "It's not who you are underneath, it's what you do that defines you." There is no courage in ambition or vision. The still small voice remains. It speaks, but you have lost the beautiful wildness and are left with gutless "passion." Come back.

Where is that which was beautiful and true? Alas, the corruption of the heart, the revelation of its subtlety, the disarming charisma of Evil's will. Has it veiled everything? Is all that is left is desire?

"Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around a lake."

The trouble with life is that it is most real. There is no sidestepping the responsibility that true beauty requires, true goodness, true wildness. The equation of life cannot be hacked; it must be faced. You yourself must be true, true to the vision seen while the light still shone brightly. In the dim stillness of chaos, you have lost the uncorrupted light. You have lost...

"They must learn that the entirety of one's adult life is a series of personal choices, decisions. If they can accept this totally, then they become free people. To the extent that they do not accept this they will forever feel themselves victims."

Do not confuse the wildness of the flesh with that of the heart.

True beauty and goodness requires will and vulnerability. It requires relationship; it requires community. The meaningful life need not be lost to the rigid requirements of living in this fallen world. The meaningful life must be chosen. A vision once overwhelming must penetrate and consume to cleanse the light corruption has choked out. The meaningful life is real. It need not be lost or given up on. Despair is not inevitable. Responsibility is inevitable. And if a vision is lost, it can only be found by will and vulnerability.

"Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find it. Knock, and the door will be opened to you."

General quotations taken from the following authors:

M. Scott Peck, Thomas Moore, Victor Frankl, the character played by Katie Holmes in Batman Begins (what's her name again?), Wallace Stevens, & Jesus Christ

Introductory excerpt is from a story told by an anonymous patient of Victor Frankl