I want to be able to...

...accept the chaos and limitness of the world.

To see the chaos, to accept it.

To not try to limit it.

And in this ensuing chaos, like a tree,

I want to stand firm.

***

I recently read a transcribed speech/short talk that David Crowder presented concerning the future of praise, in which direction it was headed.

A couple of the main points entailed that we, as Christians, sing songs to Jesus as if to a God.
This was from the view of someone who wasn't Christian.

The next is that, mathematicians, can find the hypotenuse of a right triangle that has the sides 3-4-x (x being the side that they found.)

And that ultimately you cannot find the hypotenuse of a triangle that has the sides 3-3-x,
without going using irrational numbers.

And it's in this irrationality, or rather, the irrationality of Grace,
That will lead us to the future of praise.

***

Irrationality.

I feel as if,
Certain things will always remain around me.

I have feelings, for instance. These could be ignored, put away, but they still remain.

People are human, they will continue to make mistakes.
And I'm not trying to sell-short the possibility and potential that people have to do
ANYTHING, and EVERYTHING.
I mean, we made it to outer space...

But we are human.

I am human.

C'mon Son.

But the moment I become a firm tree
I think once again, the irrationality will knock me down.
That like a hurricane, God will bend me, with the weight of his mercy.

Hahahaha.

So how do we get out of this?

We don't really.

God calls us to live in a storm, whether or not it's a storm of love, or a storm of the world...
(Y/N?)

Hrm.

***

Faith+Patience
Commitment>Feeling

What else has been in my head this past month...?

***

Maybe the only security comes from knowing,
That this irrationality, this chaos will never cease.
That maybe I shouldn't try to limit it, define it.

But accept it and be thankful for it.

And as much pain as I'm in,

take joy,
rejoice.
Know that, my life is cheap.

Accept the irrationality. Be thankful for it.

Ah.

Rawful.

Like a tree...

...I want to soak up the word.

Psalm 1:3. I tried doing a Lectio Divina on this.

I did it for about 20 minutes.
I want to be able to do it for 30.
And then maybe an hour.

It brought some peace to me.

A tree, has fruit. It has leaves, roots, branches. It can provide shade, and flows with the wind.
It is firmly planted near streams of water. From this water, the living water, it gains it's nourishment.

It grows strong.
It becomes sturdy, immovable.

It yields fruit in season,
In the good season,
In a season, a setting that is helpful for producing fruit.
During this season, the tree, shares it's fruit with us.
It shares.

Out of season, it's leaves do not wither,
For the streams continue to give the tree strength.
During the winter, when times are cold, dry,
The tree stands strong.

And whatever the tree does, it prospers.

For it is FIRMLY PLANTED next to STREAMS OF WATER.

Namean?

Do YOU know what I mean??

Do you KNOW what I mean?

***

I want to be like a giant sequoia.
Stand tall.
Firm.
I want my roots to be huge, so that I may be unshaken.
I want to provide shade for those who need it,
And fruit to those who are hungry.
I don't want to be able to get knocked over, nor die during the winter.
But I still want to be able to sway in the wind.
For God's love is like a hurricane.
Powerful.
I want to bend beneath his wind and mercy.
I want.
To be a tree.

***

Right now, my roots aren't deep, nor am I firmly embedded into the ground.
It makes me nervous.
Certain things make me feel like I could be knocked down at any moment.
I want these things away from me.
But they will always be there.
So instead.

I will take root.
Drink from the cup.
Grow tall.
Grow strong.

Yah.

I think that's good for now.

I am at a loss for words...

...for your blessings pour out on me 24/7.

I love you God. So much.

I have faith.
I will praise you, all day, errday.
My life, be a living sacrifice, old self, crucified at the cross, reborn, in your name.
Romans 1:16.
Daniel 13:16-18.

I have faith.
I believe.
If you throw me in the fire I know God, that you will save me.
And God, my precious, loving, merciful, father...
You have given me comfort, a home, a family, your blessings, your anointment, your holy spirit.
I will worship you.
And even if, and even if, you do not exist.

I will never, ever stop praising you.

YA HEARD ME!?

That is my faith in you God.

I am almost frogging.

You test me, place me in the storm.
You have not called me to live in the middle of a nice white house, with a white picket fence, wife, kids, golden retriever.

You have called me to live in the middle of the storm, calm, knowing that you are in control of what is going on around me.

Lord. Teach me, Guide me, I am yours; now and forever.
I am at a loss for words.
At your grace, overflowing and unending.
Your mercy, always forgiving.
Your love, unspeakable, incredible, awesome, love.

You are the impossible, the greatest. None compares to you Lord.

For the world will fade away, but you will remain.
My body will die, but I will carry on Lord.
You are my Father, My Lord, My Savior, My Friend.
You are God.
And I am yours. Now and Forever.

Ideas...

...are brewing.

a) "Philosophers" vs. "People" vs. "Comedians" or maybe just, "Philosophers vs. Comedians"...?

b) Everything is distorted by perspective. Nothing is necessarily false, but rather nothing is "real" in the sense of it's own respective real-ness. (Think of a... picture, out of focus.)

c) We exist only in instances...? And depend on our feelings in cases of extreme doubt.

HAHAHAHA Ionno. I got shampoo in my eye as I thought about this in the shower. Maybe it's doing stuff to me. =P

Pushing and...

...pulling.

Push an' pull.

It's how our interactions work. We give, someone recieves.

They give back, we recieve, and we work together, pushing and pulling.

I feel like today I was pushing when I should have been pulling. Like the blood in my veins was flowing in the wrong direction.

It's easier to roll a stone downhill than uphill.

Finger traps can only be undone when you move the fingers closer together.

Today is a day where I should have been pushing.

There was no real finger trap today, no drama no negativity.

Nothing I really needed to overcome.

But I feel like I should have stayed quiet, and watched from afar.

Instead of trying to push my way into things,

I should have been pulling in the essence of what was around me, the conversations, the people, the atmosphere.

If you push too hard, someone can pull you and you can fall.

If you push too hard against a wall, you can even end up pushing yourself backwards.

Away from it.

Who was pulling when I was pushing?

Should I have been pulling today?

Or should I have stayed still and listened to your voice?

I'm just a kid.

I'm just trying to find the answers for myself.

***

I had a dream.

There was a deserted mall. 8 floors, circular. Boxes littered the walkways, filled with products and toys that no one would really ever need; clothes that no one would buy. Lawn chairs, umbrellas, leftovers of a summer sale gone wrong, and even the leftovers from the previous winter. People wanted to leave. Move their unpurchased merchandise. Try to find someone who might be interested in a swimming pool fit only for a baby sea lion. The stuff of dreams. Maybe the owners had thought that someone would be interested in the dream, the ideal; and that by purchasing this stuff, one would be that much closer to living the dream.

The stuff only ballers can really get to.

And there I was with friends. No-faced friends, but friends nonetheless, picking and scrounging through the leftovers of what could have been another mans table scraps. The crumbs of biting into reality.

Sifting through the trash, we eventually made it to the top floor.

A man had beaten us to the top. But then again, he had probably been there for a while.

A raggedy face covered in whiskers, curtained by oily hair asked me if we had been here long, and what we had found.

I replied that our visit was short, and that we would be leaving soon. His voice reminded me of someone truly only concerned for our benefit and safety. To impose on him wouldn't be nice at all, and I felt guilty about loving what I could see; for the sunroof at the top illuminated the decaying infrastructure and made the whole mall seem serene.

The man stood up.

He had the body figure of something along the lines of a spider monkey. The sunken eyes hovered over me and each of my friends before he barked, with a voice unlike the one I had just heard, that everything in the mall belonged to him, that this was his domain, and that we were to give back everything that didn't belong to us, that wasn't wanted, and leave.

I said that I didn't want to, and he reached for my bag

I struggled, pushing and pulling until he became enraged, and proceeded to jump around the mall; literally leaping from wall to wall.

At that moment the beautiful sky had disappeared and the sunroof became full of clouds. The mall instantly became intimidating, mysterious, and forboding.

Each time the light would flicker, a friend would be missing, snatched up by the mall master.

As we made our way down, we were continuously hindered by odd obstacles and junk. The man's now-booming voice that reverbereated off of the walls continuously reminded us that he needed everything back, that he wouldn't stop until he got everything back and that he would kill all of us if he had to.

We made it back to the bottom only to find the entrance blocked, and a large creature in front of us.

A chicken.

Oh shit.

White and green, and big enough to potentially drop kick all of us, it chased us around the front of the lot.

We managed to kill it, beating it over the head with a crowbar and a sledgehammer as it chased after us.

And all was calm.

I was in a store when she came in.

So pale to the point where she was grey.

Seemingly young enough to be one of my cousins.

It might have been nice to talk to her if the situation wasn't interrupted by the screams of "She's a zombie!"

They had been let loose into the mall. Just a handful. But they had slowly been eating at those who were living. And those who were bitten didn't become enraged or bloodied. Rather, they became grey, slow, lifeless, and still able to speak.

This girl begged that we help her,

that we let go so that she could

play with us,

spend time with us,

eat us.

My friends urged me to kill her, to be done with it before we had any chance to think again. They handed me the sledgehammer, told me to hit her over the head, as hard as I could.

I pulled back, and reached over my head.

Hammer in hand.

Duality filling me up, overflowing me.

Tearing me apart.

"Kill her, she'll eat us if you don't."

She was old enough to be my cousin, my family.

Her eyes had not lost color. They looked at me, helpless.

Her mouth was not. Acrid, stinging words that belied her grey, creepy complexion.

"Please let me go, I am so hungry, please... please.... help me... don't kill me..."

I swung the hammer.

It bounced off her forehead.

She cried out in pain.

I had hesitated.

She opened her mouth to speak again.

Before she could speak again I swung down, harder, and harder over and over again, eyes closed until I heard a crack.

I opened my eyes and noticed a dent, like that of a watermelon, forming on her forhead, growing larger and larger with each hit.

It wasn't until I noticed that there wasn't anything recognizable on the small zombies' face that I stopped.

I ran.

I ran away, up floors, and down floors until I made it to a small room.

Who am I to decide what lives and what dies?

What had I done?

It begged for its' life.

Where do you draw the line?

I heard people walking down the hallway. No voices. A slow laboring, funeral march.

As I poked my head out the door, the sea of grey made my stomach turn.

I ran. Ran up the stairs, away from the zombies.

Doing whatever I could to escape.

Even if it meant

waking up.

***

Word.

I'm just sifting through the Mall Master's junk trying to run away from those m-fin zombies.