in a better place?
He shares a room outside with a dozen other guys
And the only roof he knows is that
sometimes starry sky
A tattered sleeping bag on a concrete slab is his bed
And it's too cold to talk tonight
So I just sit with him instead and think
How did I find myself in a better place
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
'Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
with the face of Christ
After sixteen years in a cold, gray prison yard
Somehow his heart is soft, but keeping simple
faith is hard
He lays his Bible open on the table next to me
And as I heart his humble prayer I feel his longing to be free someday
How did I find myself in a better place
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
'Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
with the face of Christ
See you had no choice which day you would be born
Or the color of your skin,
or what planet you'd be on
Would your mind be strong, would your eyes be blue or brown
Whether daddy would be rich, or if momma stuck around at all
So if you find yourself in a better place
You can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
You gotta stoop down low, look him square in the eye
And get a funny feeling, 'cause you might be dealing...
How did I find myself in a better place
I can't look down on the frown on the other guy's face
'Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
with the face of Christ
- Chris Rice
I don't know how I forgot to mention what was perhaps my favorite part of Sunday ... sitting and talking with Mike as he ate lunch. He housed the Big Mac and fries that my friend Charlie and I bought for him, and he told us we were his only friends. So, all it takes to be a friend is to buy someone lunch? Apparently that's all it takes to become Mike's friend ... well, that and actually caring about him instead of just trying to sell him stuff that will leave him with an empty soul and empty pockets.
See, Mike's different from you and me ... he stays in a homeless shelter and basically spends all of the meager "allowance" he gets from social services on drugs. But really, is Mike any different at all from you and me? Maybe Mike uses his $15 for cocaine ... but I waste my money on slices of pizza and a bottle or two of a cold brew when I'm out with my friends. Mike buys weed with his money, I buy coffee. Mike walks the streets of the city, trying to avoid danger and looking for a friendly face. I rush from my office to my garage, in a hurry to get to my next
important event of the day. Mike suffers from aches and pains from walking all day because he has no place to call home, and the shelter doesn't let him in until 4 pm. I sit at a desk all day and barely use my body at all, then I stumble into my apartment after a "hard day of work" and feel sorry for myself because I am so drained from working a job that I don't enjoy.
Whose face is more like Christ's? That's what I wonder. Where is Christ more likely to be found ... in the self-absorbed
Christian rushing off to Bible study, spending her "hard-earned" money on the latest must-have Christian CD and the newest revolutionary book that will tell her how to be a better Christian and how to serve the Lord better? Or is He more likely to be found in the cloudy eyes that have seen things no human should ever witness ... in the wrinkled, weathered face of a man who realizes he is empty and knows where to get his fix? Mike admitted that day that he knows he needs to quit the drugs, because they're killing him. What would I admit to, if I was confronted? What do I need to quit, because it's killing me? Where do I get my fix?
In actuality, who's in the "better" place? Lord, help me to be homeless so that I can find my home only in You. Help me to poor, so that You can shower my life with the riches of Your grace and mercy. Empty my stomach so that I hunger for You. And keep my feet moving, ever in search of the next place You would have me stay, or rest, or eat a Big Mac.
sleepless nights, coffee-filled days
Actually, coffee-filled days
and nights ... pretty much a coffee-filled existence.
Yesterday was one of those days that I refused to let end. It was such a good day ... I clung to it with every ounce of my being and fought sleep to the very end. Yesterday was like an almost-empty bottle of really good orange juice on a very hot day ... I kept shaking and shaking until I was sure I got the very last drop ... or at least until my hand began to hurt from all the shaking. It was such a much-needed cold drink in a very hot spell of my life. And I didn't want to go to bed, lest I miss out on any remaining drops of the sweet satisfaction of the day.
It started by me going to church with a couple friends. Ok, let's back up ... actually, it started with me waking up on a friend's couch after being lulled to sleep by the soothing images of "The Butterfly Effect" flickering on the screen in front of me. So I woke up to a smell I (the sole dweller of my apartment) never smell these days ... breakfast. And it smelled
good. But I had to rush home and walk the dogs, so I didn't have time to stay. This is unbelievable, but the woman of the house (my friend's sister) made me a plate to go. Who does that?!?!?!?! I'm not complaining ... Mel, the cherry crepes were out of this world! The perfect start to a great day!
Then I head to church with my friends. An "eh" kind of service at a new church. Lots of sweet, sweet milk ... not so much meat being thrown out there to the hungry congregation (who seemed a little too content with the sweet milk they were being served). Anyway, if nothing else, the softness of the message led to lots of good conversation in the afternoon.
More talking, then a yummy lunch ... then more talking. Can I just say -- I just met some of these people a few weeks ago even, and they are the coolest. One fella in particular is just so much fun to talk to. Or sometimes not talk to, but just sit and hang. Whenever we spend time together, I just feel so much like "me" that it's almost frightening. It's just fun, that's all. It's also fun to hang out with semi-recently-married couples our age. Sometimes I feel so unable to relate to "them" ... as if once you become married, you somehow evolve from being part of "us" and become one of "them." Anyway, yesterday I was able to talk to some married types and realize that their lives are very much like mine, except they're living with someone else ... someone that they love. But I love my dogs, so you know -- it's not too far off. :)
Anyway, an afternoon full of lazing around on various porches and lots o' good conversating.
Then an evening of a good movie ("The Bourne Surpremacy"), amazing blueberry pie, and that sweet nectar that rules my evenings ... coffee. I went to the diner alone with a freshly borrowed book that I have long been wanting to read ("Desiring God," by John Piper), very much looking forward to slumping in the comfort of a booth and feeding my mind and my soul (as well as my growling tummy). I read for a while and was soon interrupted by an old friend I hadn't seen in at least 3 years. What a nice treat from God. We got to talking about all kinds of stuff. It was good.
Eventually he left and I got back to my book. Only 1:45 at this point. The night was mine and God's, to do with what we wanted. Finally my legs grew restless, and I made my way out to my car. I popped in my favorite CD-o'-the-week ("better days," by rsb) and began the drive home ... only I didn't go home. The lyrics permeated my skin and kept me driving, past my street and towards the lake. 20 minutes later, I pulled into the lot and sat on the hood of my car for a while as I watched the lights dancing on the water and let my ears continue to be romanced by the sweet sounds of Robbie Seay and his boys. I could feel my eyes slowly getting tired, so I forced myself back into the car and began my trek home. I played my guitar until my eyes could no longer stay open, then I flopped into bed and slept the sleep of a happy child ... a child with a tummy full of sweet candy but no tummy ache ...
What a great, great day. I drank the bottle dry, and I savored every sip.
I don't want to even be a co-pilot
Jesus Saviour pilot me
over life's tempestuous seas
unknown waves before me roll
hiding rock and treacherous shoal
chart and compass come from thee
Jesus Saviour pilot me
chart and compass come from thee
Jesus Saviour pilot me
as a mother stills her child
You can calm the oceans wild
boisterous waves obey Your will
when You say to them be still
wonderous sovereign of the sea
Jesus Saviour pilot me
wonderous sovereign of the sea
Jesus Saviour pilot me
when at last i near the shore
and the fearful breakers roar
grant me long and peaceful rest
then while leaning on Your chest
may i hear You say to me
fear not I will pilot thee
may i hear You say to me
fear not I will pilot thee
chart and compass come from thee
wondrous sovereign of the sea
may i hear You say to me
chart and compass come from thee
Jesus Saviour pilot thee
- robbieseayband
Do you ever hear one of those songs that just makes you sit back and close your eyes, wishing you had the ability to express yourself as well as the songwriter did? This is one of those songs. I think one of the reasons it struck me so much today was because of the many unknown waves that are rolling before me. I want to be piloted and guided by Him, not by my feelings, or my reason, or my intellect, or my common sense, or my lists of pros and cons. I want to be under His control and in His will so much that my decisions are a direct result of His guidance. Man, easy to say, but hard to stay on course ... mostly because I'm not allowing Him to be the only pilot.
Jesus, Saviour, please ... pilot me.
detourless road
Wow, there is lots on my mind ... again.
I'm sure it will eventually all appear here ... but maybe not yet. I'm still in the "sorting out" process in my head. It involves my future, and where I'll live, and what I'll do ... stuff like that.
I'm thinking about possibly taking a different job that will mean some HUGE changes. And it could be a very good thing.
But there are lots of questions, and still too many doors open to be clear on which one I should definitely walk through and which one I shouldn't. I know that if we're walking with God, He'll take our decisions and bless them ... but sometimes I just wish he would remove all the possible turns and detours and just leave me on a straight road with an obvious destination. What fun would that be though?????
new today, and new again tomorrow
So yesterday I had an icky day. I'm not sure why, nothing particularly bad happened. I just felt like being grumpy all day, so I was. It would be easy to place the blame on my job and how I don't really enjoy it too much these days ... but I'm sure it's more than that. I have a feeling it has something more to do with the state of my heart. It's just flat-out ugly sometimes. I think as a new reality tv show, they should have "Extreme Heart Make-over," and I would be the first in line.
Yeah, see that grotesque fatty area of selfishness over there? We'll need to suck that right out.
Ewwww, and those feelings of jealousy and self-pity? They're so deeply rooted, I'm not sure if we can get those out easily, but they really need to go.
Man, check out the ugly complacent spot on this one! We better do something about that, before it overtakes her entire life!
Wow, that would be something, eh? I go in an ugly,
grumpy person, and I come out something new and pretty. If only it was that easy ...
But maybe it is. Doesn't it say something in 1 Corinthians 5:17 about anyone who is in Christ being a new creation? Old (ugly) things go away, and all things become new. But here's what I wonder ... does this only happen once? Maybe it's a continuous thing, since we're still in this world and still in our mortal bodies. Maybe it's a constant renewing of our hearts. Like this morning, when I woke up, I could have still felt grumpy and ugly like I did yesterday. But that grumpy person has passed away. It's a new day, and I can be a new creation all over again. That's what I'm going with anyway. I want Miss Grumpy to be crucified with Christ, so that today I can be Miss Christ-is-living-in-me. After all, who would you rather spend time with: a chic with an ugly, selfish-cellulite filled heart ... or a girl with a sparkling new heart, full of love and compassion and all that other good stuff I could never have on my own?
Move over, Extreme Make-over, God's got a better way.
we are like H2O
I just stumbled across this incredibly talented musician that I have never, ever heard of before. I always feel like I have been missing out on something all this time when I find someone who has been around for a little while, and I have never heard of him or her.
Anyway,
Tom Conlon is his name, and great music with deep lyrics is his game. The lyrics to "Water" especially resonated with me right now:
It's a silent night, I'm sleeping in my bed
In a studio apartment, with a dream in my head
But nothing much changes, unless I change it
One day when the time is right I just might rearrange it
We are like water, we fit the container
Then we look for an outlet, no we can't just remain there
It's all about flowing out into dry land, open mouth, dirty hands
I heard about you, making friends with a stranger
Now he's got a new family 'cause you had no fear of danger
Well I had my days of waiting by the roadside
For a friend like you, who wasn't afraid to give me a ride
We are like water, we fit the container
Then we look for an outlet, no we can't just remain there
It's all about flowing out into dry land, open mouth, dirty hands
I found that I can be a friend and a lover
And I've got sweet water to fill your cup
And I've got this well of life, the source is high above me
I just let it out, I just let it out, it keeps filling up, and filling up, and filling up
Children of light, sons and daughters
Sitting in buildings, standing water
Maybe some day soon our hearts will open
Maybe one of these silent nights
We'll just rush like a river flowing
We are like water, we fit the container
Then we look for an outlet, no we can't just remain there
It's all about flowing out into dry land, open mouth, dirty hands
Into dry land, making soil out of sand
I am always encouraged when someone else's words match the things that are running through my head. It makes me realize that we really are all connected, more than we know. May the love flow out of our connected souls, like a river into the dry land.
gag with me a cucumber
Is there something wrong with me? Why do I find
this site so hilarious? Seriously, I am eating my lunch in my office, following links on this site, and laughing so much that people are beginning to peek through the window on my door (we're a bit unaccustomed to people being happy here at work).
I was just watching "dangeresque 3" in the Strong Bad email section, and I almost choked on one of the cucumber slices from my salad. It's funny stuff, really. Or maybe I just need to get out more.
cement posts and mammoth SUV's
I work downtown, and I park in a parking garage. I'm not happy about this fact ... I'd much rather park in a lot with no ramps and tight corners and big cement posts. But I have accepted my parking garage and gotten used to it. I have learned how to manuever into spaces that a car shouldn't fit into, and turn corners that to the naked eye appear un-turnable.
So like I do every morning, this morning I confidently rolled into my garage, I waved my pass in front of the sensor, and I cruised in through the open gate. And then I slowed ... for looming in front of me was a humungous SUV. The monstrosity was basically blocking the entrance, so I had no choice but to wait as a line of cars began to form behind me. Finally after much hemming and hawing, the driver backed the vehicle in enough so that there was a small window of opportunity for me to squeeze in to join the multitude of parked cars that awaited my arrival. I seized the moment and began my turn. Apparently this was also the same moment that the driver of the behemoth had a change of heart, for he began to pull out again. Since I was already mid-turn, there wasn't much for me to do except try to cut my turn a bit closer. Obviously a bit
too close, a thought which was soon confirmed by a scraping sound and the unpleasant feeling of my car making contact with something. I pulled over and hopped out of the car, fearing what I would find on the other side. My eyes clouded up as I saw the bright white scrapage contrasting with the blue paint of my car. I looked back at the SUV driver, who was looking at me, and for a moment I entertained the notion that there were still considerate people out there. I half-expected him to come over and apologize, or at least acknowledge the presence of me and the fresh white streak running down the side of my car. I was jostled back to a harsh reality when he all but jumped out of his monster and ran out of the garage, effectively avoiding any contact with me.
I slumped back into my car and reminded myself that after all, this is
just a car, and things could be worse. My life will probably go on, and I may even be ok. I parked and began my trek to work, and I got to thinking (as I often do). More often than I'd like to admit, I'm much like the SUV driver. I am doing my own thing, oblivious to the way that my choices and actions might affect the people around me. I may give an indication of one thing, and lead someone to believe that I am committed to something, and that they have room to move accordingly ... and then the fickleness in me comes out, I change my plans, and someone gets hurt. This morning, it was the side of my car. In everyday life, it's people. And people's feelings are a little more valuable than the side of a Kia Spectra. And just like the driver, I may experience a brief moment of other person-ness, where I get my eyes off myself enough to look out and realize that my actions may have just caused damage ... but instead of taking action and confessing to the damage, or going even further and trying to fix the damage, I run. I avoid the discomfort of admitting that I did something wrong, and I flee, leaving behind an ugly scrape to remind the other person that I don't care.
I'm just glad I don't drive a colossal SUV. At least with my compact hatchback, there is a little more room between me and the cement posts ... hopefully making it easier for me to avoid causing scrapes and dents in other people's cars (and lives).
the best streetsweeper ever
"If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well."
- Martin Luther King Jr.
This morning I stopped at Tim Horton's for my fix of caffeine and sweetness. I am always impressed by this particular Tim Horton's because everyone there seems to be happy. There is always a line in the drive-thru, but it always moves with unbelievable speed. There are always a few Tim Hortonians at the window, working together to get my cafe mocha and blueberry bran muffin to me in record time ... and always with a smile. So it came as no surprise to me that the speed and friendliness were there today.
I was pulling out of the drive-thru line with my mocha safely in my drinkholder and my muffin on the seat next to me when I spotted him - the employee lucky enough to be sweeping the parking lot. I saw him standing there with his broom in hand, and I thought "poor guy, I'm sure he's loving his job right now." And then it happened. He looked at me and SMILED. And it wasn't a cheesy "Thanks for eating at Tim Horton's, have a nice day" canned kind of smile. It was a real, teeth-baring, eyes crinkling SMILE. This guy was happy. He was sweeping up cigarette butts and abandoned straw wrappers, and he seemed to actually enjoy it.
I was already in the middle of my turn out of the parking lot, so I resisted the urge to do a U-turn and thank this guy for smacking things into perspective for me. So if you're reading this, teenage Tim Horton's parking lot sweeper, thank you. Thanks for reminding me what it's all about ... how each of us is called to do the best we can in our particular role in life. Thank you for focusing on the task at hand and not gazing at the restaurant, wishing you were inside pouring hot coffee and serving donuts with sprinkles.
There lives a parking lot sweeper who does his job well.
silent tears
I have a lot on my mind ... most of which I don't feel ready to share here. All good stuff, but heavy stuff.
Anyway, this poem just came. I'm not sure if it makes sense, but it seems to convey what is going on inside of me (sort of).
Tears fall silently to the ground.
Aching heart, spinning mind.
Where have these feelings come from?
Who am I now?
How can I feel so much, so fast?
There is a part of me I do not recognize,
A part of me that is new and alive.
You came along and pushed past the obvious.
You reached inside of me and pulled out the beauty.
It's as if the One who created me clued you in,
He told you where to find the best part of me.
And then He allowed you to expose it.
My book is open, my heart is raw.
Life is thriving, and still tears fall.
For years and years, we traveled on different paths,
Unaware of the other, out there somewhere,
Stumbling and falling and getting back up,
Brushing the dust off and looking ahead.
If only I knew what lay ahead of me,
I would have run and pushed forward,
Not taking so many detours off the path.
And yet it was not time,
His Hand was not leading.
But here we are now, and still tears fall.
The road ahead is dark, there are rocks and thistles.
A cold wind blows and threatens to deter.
But the One who led us this far still beckons us on.
Holding out hope and promising love.
Whether our paths converge from this point on,
Or whether our roads split off into the dark unknown,
The light of His love will guide each of us.
My heart is at peace, and still tears fall.
