Bread

"Honey, I'll get it for you....... later," the pastor said to his wife, who was pointing at a set of colorful plates with cute cartoon cat faces drawn into them. It was the running joke whenever they passed by a mall vendor. Whether they were in the Jacksonville countryside or now in the Los Angeles city, they knew their place, or rather they were reminded by their circumstance of God's calling in their lives. Reformed or not, theology was now in motion. As for the title "missionary" in a foreign land they fit every letter perfectly, both in speech and in action.

I was sitting in the leasing office yesterday waiting for the pastor and his wife to finish the application. The three of us had spent the afternoon looking for an apartment for the family to live in. They finally decided on the street side room; they valued sunlight more than quietude. The location was perfect because right across the street was the church he was going to serve at beginning in September. The apartment was small, the rooms were cozy, and the dining area was the awkward space where the living room morphed into a kitchen. In one word, it was cheap. Their humble beginnings were admirable and clearly visible enough for the land owner to express in numbers her financial sympathy for them (bless her soul), but their boldness and courage caused them to appear like warriors stepping into a battlefield, and their faith outweighed the circumstantial walls of Jericho. Some call that foolishness. Others call that trusting in the Lord. It was another gentle reminder of the path set before me. Outside looking in it's like I'm hanging by tattered threads over a deep, dark, endless pit - unsure of what is beyond and doubtful of what is at hand. But the view from above looking down, I'm safe and secure in His mighty hands.

I sat back in the armchair to relax realizing that the application process would take a while. I was musing over the grace of God in the pastor's life when suddenly it began to growl. I was hungry, but the growl missed my stomach. It had resonated from my heart and I was hungry for God. My body ached to hear the still small voice. please speak speak speak speak please. At that moment nothing else mattered except to hear God's voice, to seek His face with all I am, to taste and see how good He is, to know God more, and to love Him more than anything, more than everything. At that moment it didn't matter if I was rich or poor, healthy or sick, full or empty. It only mattered if I was filled with spiritual Bread.

broken and poured out all for love.

That's when it became clear that I would rather starve physically than starve spiritually. It became clearer as to why anyone would do what this pastor is doing - why anyone would have the world behind them and the cross before them - why anyone would choose the hard way of life for the benefit of others. "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God."

And it was One Man who was broken

for us to hear what was spoken...

"It is finished."

Jesus is all I need and Jesus is all I have.

Stay Tuned

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I thought I had already been here before, but I couldn't be sure. No, I didn't want to be sure. I only wanted to know if I had moved forward, not in circles.

"Am I there yet?"

Dark gray slabs of concrete made up the walls around me. Dark gray clouds of confusion made up the air above me. The rhythm of my untied shoelaces slowed down to a lull and the ringing in my ear finally seemed to fade away just as gradually as it had come. My deep unsettling frustration was muted by the grinding of my firmly clenched teeth. The endless hall was silent once again. I had arrived at another crossroad.

"left... or right..."

And there I was, contemplating life in a labyrinth. Then I heard a voice erupt from the podium and flood my inner stadium:

"God is invisible so that we would look for him."

Amen, professor. Amen.

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Happy Day

Classic.

Midnight Flight

I am up because I need my medical meds

Today is the last day I take prescription pez

Two more pills and I'm out the door

Two more kills and the Strep steps no more

It's the red pill or the red pill

Catch 22 plus 6 more until

My wings grow back without the red bull

My strings go crack and become audible

Wake up at 6

Pick up the morning sticks

Eat again at 12

Lay down in my cell

Dinner at 6 again

My stomach is a pig pen

Then I stay up until the end

when I finally say amen

And repeat

Eat, eat, eat

Put it on my tweet

Wheat, wheat, wheat

and rice to be complete

I've learned a lesson

from all this special dining

Shut up and stop whining

Always give thanks

for the ultimate Healing

For faith is more than a

ipod touch

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