o what a world

o what a world
hatred so oft pursued
someone, tell me this is wrong
someone say this isn't home

but words are weak to mend our fragile hearts
you say you know,
but what hath knowledge brought
all too soon forgot?
have you sought all you can't see,
to lose your soul to gain your dreams?

last night i could not sleep,
so lost and alone as the God-forsaken
arrows fell upon the stones
i saw him standing without regret;
i asked him how often he'd
ask my heart of me;
he said "no more than three."

the wind carried
words of grace, words of faith
they say i have to move, tell me i have to choose.
"but friend, do you feel like peace has taken you home?
the consequences will follow you tonight."
still, the beating of my heart is the bravest thing i know of hope.

Work

Rialto Bridge, Venice, Italy















Preliminary sketch for "O What a World"










































"For Wealth Was Never Commonplace"















"Valley of Achor to a Door of Hope" as seen in University of North Florida Gallery Spring 2008 Student Show




















"If Ever Such Love & Sorrow Were To Meet, Surely They Would Drip The Blood Of Strength & Humility"














"Man's deeds will fall from dawn til dusk; whom are you serving, whom do you love?"

Yet-untitled piece based on a photograph of an Arizona sunset.
















Roman Colosseum




















Painting of Beth_ed's photograph for Beth_ed.

Heading Home

I say often that grace is not in our economy as mankind; we judge according to condition, with or without righteous sight. An obvious example would be something along the lines of the innocent falling to the death penalty due to the shortcomings of our judicial system, or the opposite: the criminal walking as a free man.

But I write you as a free-walking criminal. A friend and I were watching on TV about the culture in South America that annually recreates the crucifixion of Jesus just as Civil War enthusiasts walk the steps of Gettysburg. I commented to my friend how struck I was that people so devoted to gaining a closer glimpse of Jesus completely missed the biblical truth that Jesus went to the Cross so that we could skip it entirely, with confidence and authority. The tragic fact of the matter is that it is easier for us to inflict our own penance on ourselves, thinking surely God missed a step. Surely there must be something in the Word that we missed; surely we deserve death. And if we must not die for our transgressions, surely we should at least suffer through some pain.

Surely grace is misunderstood.

Jesus made a point to tell us that love is the most important commandment (Deuteronomy 6:5, Matthew 22:37, Mark 12:31) and by loving Him with reckless abandonment, we will have life (Luke 10:28). We love God because He first loved us (1 John 4:19), so we know that life is only available through a relationship with Him (John 14:6).

I am beginning to wonder about Gomer, the whore bought out of prostitution who was so uncomfortable with her new life with a man who loved her by the grace of God that she ran back to her one-night stands, over and over again. How often we fall prey to the same deceit. When I read 1 Corinthians 15, I realize that God is absolutely aware of all of our fears and addresses them, confirming our need for confirmation, whispering grace in our ears. It is in our weakness that He meets and strengthens us (2 Corinthians 12:9). It was in my state of walking dead that He met me, bled for me, rescued me (Isaiah 61:1-2).

Still, it is His words that call into question my priorities and system of value that strike me most today (Matthew 10:37-38). He tells me that if I were to give my heart to anyone or anything other than Him…I do not deserve Him.

Well I’ve done it before, I can tell you that right now, namely with my own pride, rearing its ugly head in different forms, hiding itself behind different masks. So what Jesus has done with these words is pointed out to me, quite explicitly, that I do not deserve Him. But what He also points out is that those who do not suffer with Him do not deserve Him—I have been crucified with Him (Galatians 2:20), but still will I have a cross to bear (Matthew 10:38).

I wonder if it must be easier for us to literally nail ourselves to a cross to feel like our sins have been reconciled…I don’t know; I’ll never let someone drive nails into my hands simply to prove my own religiosity. As I said, grace is not easily understood by us lowly creatures called man, but what I do know is that it is good. Love of the best kind is good. And with such love comes freedom (1 John 4:18).

It is this that returns my thoughts to Gomer…why did she look back? Why did Lot’s wife look back? Remember her! (Luke 17:31-32). Did her parents yell at her for everything under the sun when she was a kid, teaching her to always feel at fault? It creates an effect we psychologists refer to as a “self-fulfilling prophecy.” I can be a lot like Gomer in that way; I fall back to the proverbial thorn in the flesh because it seems so much easier to walk in my own footsteps than accept the whole work of the Cross (Romans 8:1). But King Jesus demands more than such cowardice, and certainly He provides the strength to conquer it (Matthew 11:30). If love is patient (1 Corinthians 13:4), then surely it will see me through until the end (1 Corinthians 13:8, Matthew 28:20).

The fact of the matter is that our time on earth is fleeting (Isaiah 40:6, 1 Peter 1:24). There will be suffering (1 John 3:13), but surely suffering of our own accord is an unnecessary addition to the persecution we will face. In all of the ways you are crucifying yourself, let today be the day of freedom. And do not look back. Jesus Himself forbade it (Luke 9:62). For GOD has made you righteous (Romans 5:19), and by Him the righteous will glory (Psalm 64:10).

You’re telling me there is now no condemnation

You forgot all the things that I’ve done

And I will look him in the eye and say “Where is your victory? O death! Where is your sting?”

Colossians 3, 2008, and the highs and lows of it all.

It’s probably too easy to assume that I don’t know the end; too early to tell if this relationship will work or crash and burn. Too soon to see what I need to be prepared, too far away from land to know what country I am coming to. But here I am, nonetheless, without any great nugget of spiritual wisdom to bestow, suspended in the seconds that tick by so furiously slow.

It’s probably best, at best, to approach things with caution; to step to the side when I feel a rush charging behind me, lay down when the horns are blown and the swords are raised. It’s probably too much to ask what freedom is, and what cost it demands. It’s probably far too overwhelming for me to feel my lungs rise and fall, full and empty. Such small petty things lose their weight in the world, coming in second to the grander things that demand my attention. But I have heard it said that the bravest thing I have is hope, to fill my lungs, even if it means the taste of smoke.

My cousin lives in this charmingly shanty old house on overlooking a ravine; the view and slanted floorboard lead me to believe that the house will soon meet its end. Maybe one day it’ll find itself in the valley, when it thought it was safe this whole time [“this whole time” being rather subjective, as no one seems capable of telling me exactly how old the failing fortress is]. But it is a cute house, and aesthetics are the important part.

I know certain things about certain things. I know that there are two methods of thought, two tracks on which to concentrate all of your being: these two ways are high and low. I think it has something to do with the gravitational weight of the topics under their roofs. Meditating on good things would fall into the “high” category, conversely bad things can be referred to as “low.” I generally consider things such as greed, lust, dishonesty, bills, taxes, inadequate recycling faculties, trends, transcripts, disrespect, paychecks, impurity, homeless animals, gossip, homeless people, evil, and credit cards to fall into the latter. It’s probably easy to venture a guess at the former. Faith, hope, truth, love, grace, mercy, kindness, meekness, righteousness, music and turkey sandwiches. Maybe also the beach on a fair-weather day.

But that’s as much as I know. Where I find myself now, here with no wisdom to bestow, is on the come-around. The come-back. The place where I ended up after I nearly walked away with no legitimate excuse to walk away, only that I am a coward. The foothill on the edge of the valley, the “high” after the “low.” Because all of the things I lived in when I was down only served to bring me down further, but then I realized that it’s probably better to live like I’m on the foothill because I am well on my way to the mountaintop from the valley, and living like I’m still in the valley isn’t true anymore. It isn’t where I am. It’s where I was before, but dwelling on things like mercy, grace, truth and the reckless pursuit of love is so much better than worrying about my paychecks. Or apparent lacks thereof.

What seems to have happened here, all past tense mind you, is I was under the impression that I was standing on solid ground. And I was, because the dirt beneath my feet wasn’t mud. What I neglected to consider was the placement of my feet on solid ground in terms of proximity to the edge of the cliff. It was only going to be so long before I fell.

It’s probably better not to stay where I am, but it’s probably better to take it all one day at a time. It’s probably better to incline my ear to the truth of the matter than to allow myself to fall further into deceit. It’s probably better to just get in the boat, because at the end of the day I know that if I only have either a map or an adventurous spirit, I’ll soon find myself on land of some sort.

It’s probably okay to live for freedom, because freedom is free…not by cost so much as by virtue. Freedom is available for the sake of being free, for the sake of getting to the safer high grounds. The kind that doesn’t gently slide me down the decline, or simply fall in one fell swoop. The kind that makes things like grace and mercy available, on streets where love casts out all fear.