5 takes, 5 angles (video assignment #2)

The assignment was to tell a story in 5 takes using various camera angles, but no dialogue.

One Minute Bio (video assignment #1)

I’m taking a digital video class and the first assignment was to be a biographical piece that was no longer than one minute. Yes, Cooper made the cut.

Splintered Recollections

I got a splinter. It’s not something I do often.

Actually, I can’t recall the last time I did. This one was a doosie. I tried to push it out the way it came in, but it was resistant. So, I did what I used to do. I got the alcohol, cotton ball and needle, sterilized it and went to work. This brought back a flood of memories.

I have long been fascinated with the human body: brilliant, miraculous machine that it is—along with everything else that lives. So much so, that when I was 6, I announced to my parents (after watching open heart surgery on the discovery channel) that I wanted to be a surgeon. This pleased them greatly, especially my father. He would work out in the yard, gardening or building something and have me “operate” on his splinters; encouraging me in my aptitude as a young surgeon.

Time has marched on, and I was an artistic soul it turns out, and not a scientist-doctor. My father has passed on as well, but when the memories flooded in during my “operation” on this latest splinter, I realized that I am a surgeon of sorts—a surgeon of the soul. My calling is to rightly divide the word of truth in such a way that it actually matters and answers the deep divide within every human being…where soul meets body, the flesh and tangible pitting itself against that which truly satisfies the eternal soul.

And though my father did not live to see me realize my calling, I hope he is rejoicing somewhere in the work I do, which far outlasts the fleshly veil, and gives hope and purpose to those who realize that they are much more than their bodies can ever promise them—much more than this life alone can ever give them.

Endings

I hate endings. I’m bad at them—horrible actually.

Beginnings, now there’s something I can sink my teeth into. Beginnings are beautiful, fresh, teeming with life and possibility. Middles are for obedient muddling, the holding patterns of the “known,” but endings…Endings are unnatural, awkward, painful and downright wrong.

Think about it. You only want something to end when it’s undesirable. We long for bad things to end. But, we long for the good things in life to never end, and when they do we experience loss.

Actually, I don’t know that endings were part of the original design. I think they are largely a consequence of the fall. The original breaking of perfect, trusting fellowship with the Father was the first and worst ending, and we feel the ripple effects throughout our consequently broken pilgrimage.

I’m not even a fan of the so-called good endings, like having just earned my Master’s degree. I find myself grieving the loss of classes and classmates, lectures and papers, reading and learning in semester-long rhythms—that whole school-student- professor-campus thing. I will miss it.

I long to accomplish the goal without losing the season. I long not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. But the baby has graduated, and full-time work she must. So, school ends, a beloved season passes, as all things flesh and fallen are wont to do. But, we carry this eternity in our hearts that nothing good should end, that there’s a wrongness about endings that eternal beings were not designed for.

And good endings like graduating are just the tip of the ending-iceberg. There’s the end of a cherished friendship, the end of a romantic relationship, and the mother of all endings—DEATH.

Enter Jesus:  Jesus ultimately silenced the bitterness of endings when He hung there and died, saying, “It is finished.” It is finished. All death and endings are swallowed up by life, and even the endings we so desperately experience are somehow wrapped into His finished work that we walk out and work out in our anguished and fallen, yet redeemed state.

Finishing is very different from ending. I daresay that finishing is an opposite of ending. And while often listed as synonyms, even Webster makes a clear distinction: “the end” is the limit or conclusion, whereas, “to finish” is to complete or perfect.

Finishing a paper or a project garners the sweet fulfillment of accomplishment, as does any job well done. Fine wines are described as having, “a crisp, clean, finish,” not a crisp, clean ending. No one would dare disgrace the finish line of a race, by calling it the “ending line.”

And yet, the end of Jesus’ life on earth signaled the beginning of our hope against death and endings. By His crucifixion, Jesus plays a cruel trick on death making it His instrument to bring about true life. He turns all endings into mini-death surrenders to His life-giving Lordship, because it is indeed finished. And we rise with Him in His resurrection life, of using even us in His global mission of putting things to rights.

“Death, you have no more sting!” Someday, all will be rightfully eternal; the fullest fullness will be fully realized. For now, we groan purposefully; hopeful and confident in His finished work that puts all endings to death, and rights all that is wrong—gradually, patiently, eventually.

May your endings of all kinds draw you closer to Him because of His loving, life-giving sacrifice, as you follow Him into the good fight, finishing your course, and keeping the faith in His end without end. Amen.

In the Twinkling of an Eye

The following was inspired by Marilynne Robinson’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Gilead, and written from the point of view of the character, Rev. John Ames.

Lord, I have lived so very long,
And yet not long at all.
I have loved some very much,
And yet so very wrong.

In the twinkling of an eye
I can gather every moment
In just a single sum,
In such a lonesome knowing.

In the twinkling of an eye
I could vanish as a flower
That leaves no trace of glory
In the field it once adorned.

I have suffered much,
And yet much less than many
I have seen it all by now
And yet it leaves me lacking

Squanderers flourish
The dutiful perish,
But fallenness levels it all
Even the lucky, even the strong.

And there is always light
Bent on bursting through
If we have the waiting patience,
And blinded eyes to see.

The goodness of our perfect God
Shining grace where just it needs
On each and every only child
His perfect nurturing.

The immense heartbreak of God

One day I was walking.
Just like any other day, I was walking these familiar streets of life
with all its familiar sights, and I saw…
I saw the forbidden, foreboding truth unveiled.
I was at once a monster rising up to strike,
and a cherub bowing down to worship…
ME.
I was worshiping myself right into ruin.
And that’s just what I would’ve done
had not this insanely merciful God steered my
insistent collision course right into His unrelenting grace.

I saw with excruciating clarity our never-ending fallen madness.
And I saw…
The immense heartbreak of God.

Obedience was not a “good” or “bad,”
a “right” or “wrong”
or a divine parent to honor.
Obedience was a path out of the madness.
A mercy extended to a blind and weak humanity
hell-bent on stumbling around in darkness.

I saw us in all our un-bowing and desperate defiance.
I saw things way beyond me. Things that will haunt me.
And I saw stodgy, boring ole “obedience,”
shining this warm, copper rescue
over the entire inwardly grasping, collapsing delusion.
Such love as I never did see.

And then I wrote this:

Folly, folly, blindness, sight
Bend our will toward the light
Humble, sacred, bended knee
Chase our wayward hearts to thee.

Splendor, Savior, brightest night
Rescue folly’s vain delight
First and last and every end
Wash us with your grace again.
Amen.

And this:

I’ll see you “angel of light,” just so I can call your bluff
And raise you an eternal hell of never, never, never enough.
I will obey.
Hallelujah!
I will obey.

Pretty Birthday Axe!

Another birthday has come to find me, and this time I was ready.

Last year was different. Family and friends asked me what I wanted, but I didn’t know. Nothing specific came to mind. So this year, when asked, it was as if lightning struck. I hadn’t been thinking about getting a guitar at all and then BOOM! I’ve always wanted a semi-hollow body electric, and this one fits the bill – a bill I can pay.

For those of you for whom this is meaningful, it’s an Epiphone Dot Studio – basically a reissue of the Gibson ES-335 for the economically challenged. Reviewers are raving about the sounds coming out of this cheap, yet beautiful guitar, and frankly I’m a little giddy over it all. I’ve been in physical therapy for an injury that has prevented me from playing for a while, so I’m pretty excited to get back to it. I don’t yet have it in hand because it’s on backorder, but soon…

This has just been a terrific birthday. I had been sick over the holiday and have become well enough to sing again, a simple joy that’s so deep in me.

The best birthday gift though…knowing that He Is Enough. I have been asking God to show me that He is sufficient in places I am tempted to doubt, and He has opened the eyes of my heart to believe that it’s true. I am content in Him. What a gift to be at peace with the world and really KNOW His Goodness. A restored perspective is the best gift by far.

Resolution: Whack-a-Mole of the Soul

It’s not a game. It’s my resolution. Seriously.

Allow me to explain. Jesus was always holding up
the ‘faith of a child’ to the disciples when asked who was the greatest among them, etc. And lately, It has become painfully clear that I have gotten a little too big for my britches.

I have prematurely assessed situations and cynically judged the circumstances. I have calculated the gain/loss probabilities, and done a sophistocated analysis of the possibilities instead of coming to my Abba, and allowing him to speak life into my confused and weary soul. I have gone autonomous, and very ‘adult’ in ways and places that childlike trust would befit me instead.

So, I resolve to be a child again. To trust my Abba. To live and die by His word, and for His glory. To deliberately live and move and have my being in Him. To exist before they eyes of Him alone. That is my resolution. To go simple. Get small. Be His wide-eyed, ruthlessly-trusting little one.

That’s what I aspire to do. You’re probably thinking, “Resolutions are supposed to challenge you, call you higher, make you stronger and better. Shouldn’t you set some real goals for yourself?” See? All that ambition to be strong and capable and independent comes welling up so naturally, eroding our posture of childlike trust and humility. And it’s hard to beat down, but that’s what I’m resolving to do. I’m going to play whack-a-mole with my pride and self-sufficiency.

Won’t you join me in what I like to call Operation Whack-a-Mole of the Soul?

Thoughtless, But Not Inconsiderate

Hello there! And here’s the dealio. I want you all to know that I am not brain dead. In spite of my little blog title up yonder, “I write, therefore I think,” my absence should not indicate a lack of thought on my part. Well, OK, maybe I have been rather thoughtless, but I haven’t been inconsiderate, and those two usually run together. How is it possible to be one without becoming the other? How can one be considerate without being thoughtful?

Ancient chinese secret: I consider thinking and then…get distracted. Or, I consider thinking and then…get sleepy. Or I consider thinking and…decide to read, watch TV, wash my andirons and I don’t even have andirons you-know-what-I-mean right? But, it’s not that I don’t consider it. I do. But thinking well is hard work.

Contemplating something worth the time, and articulating something worthy of the page is a high stakes game. I mean if you’re gonna spend precious time writing it, and others are going to spend precious time reading it, it better be good, right?! Do you feel the pressure? Is the virtual air thick with tension, or is it just me? The heat is on. Am I gonna say anything of value here today?

As a matter of fact I am. You may or may not be aware that I am finishing an MA in counseling in May 08, and the burning question you’ve all bombarded me with is, “What’s next?” It’s only natural. The question, that is, not the bombardment. And I finally have an answer for you all!

I am doing what everyone with a Masters degree does…I’m moving to Guatemala to start an alpaca farm. I have included photos of a few of the fine folks (to the left that’s Carl and Edna) I’ll be spending quality time with in the not too distant future. I hope this puts many curious and well-meaning people at ease. I know it does me. Oh, and anything you hear about combining counseling and comedy, teaching truth through comedy, songwriting, freelance writing, storytelling, or improv is complete hooey. I mean nonsensical hogwash malarky! Whew, I feel better.

Jack, the antenna ball

My brother and I decided that our friend Scott, who likes to joke, needed an antenna ornament for his truck. Jack, of “Jack in the Box” fame was right for the part.

Would you believe that Jack’s NOT A TOY! “Adult use only!” What on earth are adults doing with this toy-looking gizmo? Do antenna balls serve any real purpose, increase radio reception? I think not! He looks like a toy, acts like a toy, but he’s for “adult use only!”

 

Jeff and I thought this would make Jack very sad, so we turned his mouth upside down to express his true feelings about his ridiculous packaging. And I proceeded to give Jacks to every kid I came in contact with. Thus far, none have been injured or died from playing with Jack…that I know of.