Archive for April 2010

Yard Work

Saturday, April 24, 2010 – 5:13 PM

This morning, I and some friends dug up half of my front yard, replanted with fresh sod, and retook the landscaping on the side of the house and part of the back. I am so stinking tired. Grass is a very stubborn creature, especially when you try to uproot it. Now my lot has only one type of grass present, meaning I can save 10 minutes every year reading fertilizer bags to see what grasses are covered. Now, I'll just look for the big 'ST. AUGUSTINE' sign, grab a bag, and go.

10 minutes a year... I'm sure that is worth 11 people working 7 hours...

Actually, my non-St.A yard was infested with weeds, and seemed immune to whatever anti-weed stuff I put down. Now, I just see a nice green lawn. Hopefully I can remember to water it enough so that it stays that way.

Nothing about this post attempts to illustrate the enormity of this project. I have no words. Only aches, stink, and a lighter wallet. But, I can look out my window now and see a lawn that says something other than 'I have no work ethic.' I'm pretty happy with my lawn. I sincerely wish I'd taken before and after pictures. Perhaps I'll just post an 'after' and spare you the misery of my non-lawn that was.

Either way, I raise my glass of rehydrating agua to the fine young men of the UTA BSM:

May you each have long lives,
shared with pretty wives,
a house full of kids,
each with smart lids,
that one day will say,
in grateful display
"Your retirement I will pay,
since social security went away"

I can actually guarantee one of those lines...

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The Fly and the Window

Thursday, April 22, 2010 – 5:11 PM

Thank you, God, for your love. You are better than the furthest reach of my imagination. You are stronger than the tides that beat the mountains smooth. You are taller than my mind can perceive. You see all things.


You see me at my worst and you see me at my best. My best isn't all that much. It's not good enough for heaven. You're good enough for heaven, and I can't understand just how good you are. I'm a long way off from 'good', even at my best.

You command worship, and your creation responds. Nothing is as it seems to my eyes. Yet you see. Trees stretch out as hands lifted. Waters sway back and forth, a dance you have always lead. The rocks cry out. 

My eyes wonder at your creation. Your ways are bigger than my little head.

---
I am so quick to cast blame. I am anxious. 

I set on you a crown of thorns. I am the thornweaver.

I rail against your gifts. I am the blind discontent. 

In my blindness, I declare a new law. I am a revolutionary.

I declare my law the new law. I am an old story.

I carry malice. I carry prejudice.

My prejudice is against you.

But you see me. Your eyes reveal the truth.

---
I am the fly and the window. My freedom is my arrogance is my prison.

I am the artist and the sage. My wisdom is my yearning is my desparate folly.

I am desperate for a truth that lets me hate you.

I am desperate.

You are not desperate.

You are content.

I hate that I can't fool you.

You are not a fool.

I long to fool the unfoolable.

I want to back you into a corner of logic.

You are unmovable.

Why aren't you corruptable? Why can't you compromise? Do you ever get tired of interrupting the life I want for myself? 

Yet I am the fly, and I am the window. 

That monstrous interruption of my existence is your hand. If you were so big, you could break the window and set me free. You probably wouldn't get hurt. Can God bleed? Instead, you sit there. You speak. 

You want to take me away from my window. But my window is me. I am the fly, and I am the window. Would you reject what you have made? Did you make a mistake? Was I a mistake, that you now seek to correct? If it's your fault, then you change me. You make it happen. I'll be right here, the fly and the window. 

Hear me, God, for I have spoken. Now I look through my window. I see the trees in bloom. I see the waters rise and fall. I see the mountains. Why am I drawn to them?

---
How can I say thank you? What are the words? 

Your hands are shepherds hands. You are the good shepherd. 

You lead me beside still waters. You lead me through the mountains and valleys alike. Your orchard bears fruit. 

You have the world by its corners, and you named the stars, and you call to them, and they answer your call. 

I am nothing. 

You extend your shepherds hand. You call me by my name. A new name.

My name is David. My name is Adam. My name is child. I hear your voice.

My wings are broken. I have fallen. I am nothing. 

Your hand I feared and hated. Your motives I criticized. Your goodness I rejected. I was the fly and the window.

Now my wings are broken. I am no longer a fly. 

I fell into your hand. You removed me from the window.

All I was and knew is gone. I am empty. I am nothing. 

You carry me to places unknown, untested, uncertain.

Yet you are certain. You are tested. You know.

You know my fears. You know my doubts. You know my ways and you know my secrets. I have no secrets anymore.

You carry me across a threshold. I am consumed by a new world that is as terrifying as it is beautiful. I cling to the hand I once hated.

Clinging, I am led beside still waters. Clinging tighter, I pass through the valley of death, and you are faithful to lead me out the other side. You are faithful.

You are faithful.

You are faithful.

I am a wingless fly. I have no window.

I have nothing.

I am nothing.

You are everything.

I am in your hands.

You are faithful.


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On a lighthearted note...

Thursday, April 15, 2010 – 10:59 PM

Did any of you see The Tonight Show tonight? I may create a poll asking what controlled substance Terry Bradshaw had in his system.

It's moments like this I wish live shows still had the hook. Wow.

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Better Than a Hallelujah...

Monday, April 12, 2010 – 10:54 AM

I heard a song on the radio the other day that made me cry, which usually means it's worth sharing. It's called 'Better Than a Hallelujah', recorded by Amy Grant, written by Sarah Hall.

What a beautiful reminder of what God really wants out of us. He was big enough to give us big emotions and big thoughts, and he's wise enough to see the beauty of an honest cry from a place of pain. He became small enough to get down on our level and commune in the pain that sin brings, and he became big enough to transcend pain and death.

I still hurt, and I still have enough doubts to challenge how I know and trust God. Thankfully, he is still patient enough to walk me through my doubts, mature enough to love me through my immaturity, and loving enough to discern the pleadings I make from my points of pain as honest efforts to love him back. 

I am unable to understand why pain exists, but I recognize that sin prejudices me to blame God for my problems. When I take him at his word that he is good, and pour out my pain on him as an offering, I discover that God, along with all his peace and mercy and power and love, never moved. Only when I surrender my pride does he remove my prejudices and lead me from where I strayed, back to where he always was. Perhaps such moments really do please his ears exponentially more than our best efforts to carry a tune on Sundays. 

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