Although I'm not always proud of the excessive amounts of television I can allow myself to watch in one sitting at times, I must say, I've gotten a lot out of it. When I find a show I like, it becomes like an addiction. I want more of it, and I want it now, and I don't want it to end. But the more I watch, the more upset I get because I know eventually, and sooner rather than later, it's going to end. Soon the last episode is going to air. Even if there is another season, the series is going to end at some point. Everything is going to end at some point.
But something I've realized not just about shows but about life in general is that we always have family. I know that sounds cliche and general even, because of course we always have family. Everyone technically has a family. I mean, it'd be a little hard to come into this world without at least a mother and a father. But family doesn't always mean what we are conditioned to think of it as.
Watching these shows, Gilmore Girls to be more specific, is proof of that. I know that this show doesn't capture the American ideals of family, with a mom and dad and some children with a dog or a cat. It portrays a mom and a daughter, just the two of them. And there are so many negative views of their relationship, as if this type of family is inappropriate and unconventional and that there is a need for a husband/father.
But to me, what I've realized is yes, it is incredible to have a true blood family. To have a mom, dad, brother, sister, pet, grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins that you love and get along with is great. God gave us that very special gift of family. But the Gilmore Girls version of a family did well, too. A deep relationship was formed within a mother and her daughter, much more than probably would have been formed were there a father or a brother or sister in the picture. They both always searched for more, thinking they were missing something, but always came back to the same conclusion: they were enough for each other. And it worked.
I've come to realize that I'm an extremely blessed individual. I have a true blood family that is amazing and genuine and loving. I am definitely a minority in that category. But beyond that family, I have a family of friends that support me and love me unconditionally. You see, family isn't just about blood. It isn't just about the people that you grew up with and that bought you things and provided for you. Family is about love, commitment, disappointments, good times. Family are those people that God places in our hearts forever. Those people that stand by us when we fall and help us back up. Family are those people that see us at our worst and still jump at the chance to call us friend. Family is about loving each other through the hard moments, through the great times, in fun and adventures, just as much as in dark periods and failures.
I have that family. I have those people in my life. And they aren't just friends, they are brothers and sisters. And they range in age from 16 to 50+ years old. There is no age limit. There is no gender or race requirements. They are love, they are Jesus in skin. And they aren't hard to find. If you look.
These people come from jobs, churches, streets, hospitals, prisons, anywhere. There isn't a mold for families. The only thing that makes ordinary people your family is the love that is within.
I guess this post generated from thinking about the idea of moving away in 8 months. I don't know where I'll be. I don't know what job in what location I'll get. But the thought of it thrills and terrifies me all at once because of these thoughts. But family is family. And nothing can break the bonds of true, genuine love between people. God created it, God fosters it, and He is unbreakable. Everything He touches and creates is perfect and bulletproof.
Family is family.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Not afraid to yell
I wouldn't refer to myself as someone that is fearful of many things. If you asked someone that knew me very well, say my brother or my mom, maybe my best friend, to describe me, to give a list of words that would most accurately portray an image of this person, Scott, one word that I'm sure would not be on that list would be fearful. And don't misread what I'm writing...I do fear things. But it isn't a main quality of mine.
And all that is true, with one exception...yelling at God. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. Sure, there are people out there who openly defy the existence of God, so I'm sure for them to hear me say I fear yelling at God would be just a funny story to tell there friends at the next poetry slam. But for me, I fear the idea of yelling at God. Not even just yelling, but disagreeing or questioning Him about the things in my life or the world at all.
I suppose that I find this to be equated with the idea of being a good son, a good employee, a good student. You don't talk back to your mom or dad, or your boss or teacher. You wouldn't question what they say or do when instructing you. Or at least I wouldn't. So I have always thought, why do it to God?
But what I've realized after reading Psalm 88 and discovering what David Crowder feels about the Psalm in "Praise Habit", is that I'm denying the fullness of a relationship with Him when I accept everything through my mouth but harbor these feelings of why and why not in my heart.
If I don't understand the reason God is doing something, I'm allowed to ask Him why. It doesn't mean He is going to give me an answer I can immediately understand or accept. But being afraid to ask Him why or to let Him know I'm angry with the situation He has placed me in isn't defying His name or belittling Him or making Him angry. It is proving that He exists.
By just accepting everything in my life as "God's plan" but never really allowing myself to be in conversation with Him is denying a true and honest relationship with Him. And it is just PROVING that I believe in Him, that I know He is there and that I know He has a plan that is far greater than I can see, but I need and want Him to show me WHY. Even when He doesn't And when I do that more, I am showing Him my faithfulness. I am saying to Him, I know this and all things come from You, and even if I don't like it and I ask You why, it is me relying on You, and always coming back to You.
And all that is true, with one exception...yelling at God. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. Sure, there are people out there who openly defy the existence of God, so I'm sure for them to hear me say I fear yelling at God would be just a funny story to tell there friends at the next poetry slam. But for me, I fear the idea of yelling at God. Not even just yelling, but disagreeing or questioning Him about the things in my life or the world at all.
I suppose that I find this to be equated with the idea of being a good son, a good employee, a good student. You don't talk back to your mom or dad, or your boss or teacher. You wouldn't question what they say or do when instructing you. Or at least I wouldn't. So I have always thought, why do it to God?
But what I've realized after reading Psalm 88 and discovering what David Crowder feels about the Psalm in "Praise Habit", is that I'm denying the fullness of a relationship with Him when I accept everything through my mouth but harbor these feelings of why and why not in my heart.
If I don't understand the reason God is doing something, I'm allowed to ask Him why. It doesn't mean He is going to give me an answer I can immediately understand or accept. But being afraid to ask Him why or to let Him know I'm angry with the situation He has placed me in isn't defying His name or belittling Him or making Him angry. It is proving that He exists.
By just accepting everything in my life as "God's plan" but never really allowing myself to be in conversation with Him is denying a true and honest relationship with Him. And it is just PROVING that I believe in Him, that I know He is there and that I know He has a plan that is far greater than I can see, but I need and want Him to show me WHY. Even when He doesn't And when I do that more, I am showing Him my faithfulness. I am saying to Him, I know this and all things come from You, and even if I don't like it and I ask You why, it is me relying on You, and always coming back to You.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Its funny
Today is one of those days that the rest of the world envies Florida for. December 20. The perfect day. Winter here is something that everyone who doesn't live or vacation here during this time envies. I'll explain why. Today, when most other areas are covered in snow or battling severe cold weather, here in south Florida, it is 60 degrees, sunny, and blue skies hitting you in every direction. I believe it is the closest that we can get to even getting a small fraction of an understanding as to what heaven is going to look and feel like.
I took a drive today. And its funny, you know, this driving. On any given day, you could find me furious about driving. I'm talking court-ordered anger management type of furious. Thinking horrible thoughts about the person who cut me off, or conjuring up ways to invent a car that turns into hard, shiny steel at the press of a button so I can ram cars off the road that are making insanely stupid decisions while driving, like cutting me off, for example. But not today. Today, the big truck in front of me going 30 mph didn't even phase me. In fact, I encouraged it. I adored it. I wanted to stop the car and shake the man's hand. Light a cigar for him, pop open a bottle of champagne in his honor.
And why? Because today, I'm driving for joy. I'm not in a hurry to get somewhere, I have nowhere to be, I can just coast. There is no stress as to where I'm going or when I have to get there. This is pure satisfactory driving. An unplanned, yet fantastic joy ride.
And the thought came into my head...how incredible that my demeanor could be so drastically different in the same activity. Like the way we view things. Today, the sun is shining the same way as it normally does, and the wind isn't blowing any stronger than any other day. There are plenty of days in which the skies are cloudless and blue. Yet today, I was fortunate enough to see it as something more than just another day. I was given the honor of seeing it as the grandeur that God created it to be.
Psalm 50 states that 'when you begin to find Him in all the stuff of life, everything starts singing. Every moment breaks into song. Every breath becomes sacrifice, and the songs become sweetness. This is living praise.'
Although I'm not near this point in my spiritual life, God has been drawing me nearer and nearer to this point each day. Sure, it is really easy for me to want to praise Him in this moment, on this beautiful day, so close to Christmas, no school, minimal hours at work, friends back in town. But He has been showing me the greatness of His love in the dark, stormy days. In the times when I'm alone and sad. He's allowing me, yes, ALLOWING me, to experience the joy and the amazement of every second and every type of weather of His love.
And the wind rustling the leaves, the incredible silence of snow, and the darkness of the storm all begin to sing a song of His love.
I took a drive today. And its funny, you know, this driving. On any given day, you could find me furious about driving. I'm talking court-ordered anger management type of furious. Thinking horrible thoughts about the person who cut me off, or conjuring up ways to invent a car that turns into hard, shiny steel at the press of a button so I can ram cars off the road that are making insanely stupid decisions while driving, like cutting me off, for example. But not today. Today, the big truck in front of me going 30 mph didn't even phase me. In fact, I encouraged it. I adored it. I wanted to stop the car and shake the man's hand. Light a cigar for him, pop open a bottle of champagne in his honor.
And why? Because today, I'm driving for joy. I'm not in a hurry to get somewhere, I have nowhere to be, I can just coast. There is no stress as to where I'm going or when I have to get there. This is pure satisfactory driving. An unplanned, yet fantastic joy ride.
And the thought came into my head...how incredible that my demeanor could be so drastically different in the same activity. Like the way we view things. Today, the sun is shining the same way as it normally does, and the wind isn't blowing any stronger than any other day. There are plenty of days in which the skies are cloudless and blue. Yet today, I was fortunate enough to see it as something more than just another day. I was given the honor of seeing it as the grandeur that God created it to be.
Psalm 50 states that 'when you begin to find Him in all the stuff of life, everything starts singing. Every moment breaks into song. Every breath becomes sacrifice, and the songs become sweetness. This is living praise.'
Although I'm not near this point in my spiritual life, God has been drawing me nearer and nearer to this point each day. Sure, it is really easy for me to want to praise Him in this moment, on this beautiful day, so close to Christmas, no school, minimal hours at work, friends back in town. But He has been showing me the greatness of His love in the dark, stormy days. In the times when I'm alone and sad. He's allowing me, yes, ALLOWING me, to experience the joy and the amazement of every second and every type of weather of His love.
And the wind rustling the leaves, the incredible silence of snow, and the darkness of the storm all begin to sing a song of His love.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Moses Schulstein
We are the shoes, We are the last witnesses
We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers.
From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam
And because we are only made of fabric and leather
And not of blood and flesh,
Each one of us avoided the Hellfire
We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers.
From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam
And because we are only made of fabric and leather
And not of blood and flesh,
Each one of us avoided the Hellfire
Babi Yar
By Yevgeni Yevtushenko
Translated by Benjamin Okopnik, 10/96
No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone.
I am afraid.
Today, I am as old
As the entire Jewish race itself.
I see myself an ancient Israelite.
I wander o'er the roads of ancient Egypt
And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured
And even now, I bear the marks of nails.
It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself.
The Philistines betrayed me - and now judge.
I'm in a cage. Surrounded and trapped,
I'm persecuted, spat on, slandered, and
The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills
Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face.
I see myself a boy in Belostok
Blood spills, and runs upon the floors,
The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded
And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half.
I'm thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left,
In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom,
To jeers of "Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!"
My mother's being beaten by a clerk.
O, Russia of my heart, I know that you
Are international, by inner nature.
But often those whose hands are steeped in filth
Abused your purest name, in name of hatred.
I know the kindness of my native land.
How vile, that without the slightest quiver
The antisemites have proclaimed themselves
The "Union of the Russian People!"
It seems to me that I am Anna Frank,
Transparent, as the thinnest branch in April,
And I'm in love, and have no need of phrases,
But only that we gaze into each other's eyes.
How little one can see, or even sense!
Leaves are forbidden, so is sky,
But much is still allowed - very gently
In darkened rooms each other to embrace.
-"They come!"
-"No, fear not - those are sounds
Of spring itself. She's coming soon.
Quickly, your lips!"
-"They break the door!"
-"No, river ice is breaking..."
Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar,
The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement.
Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand,
I feel my hair changing shade to gray.
And I myself, like one long soundless scream
Above the thousands of thousands interred,
I'm every old man executed here,
As I am every child murdered here.
No fiber of my body will forget this.
May "Internationale" thunder and ring
When, for all time, is buried and forgotten
The last of antisemites on this earth.
There is no Jewish blood that's blood of mine,
But, hated with a passion that's corrosive
Am I by antisemites like a Jew.
And that is why I call myself a Russian!
Translated by Benjamin Okopnik, 10/96
No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone.
I am afraid.
Today, I am as old
As the entire Jewish race itself.
I see myself an ancient Israelite.
I wander o'er the roads of ancient Egypt
And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured
And even now, I bear the marks of nails.
It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself.
The Philistines betrayed me - and now judge.
I'm in a cage. Surrounded and trapped,
I'm persecuted, spat on, slandered, and
The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills
Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face.
I see myself a boy in Belostok
Blood spills, and runs upon the floors,
The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded
And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half.
I'm thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left,
In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom,
To jeers of "Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!"
My mother's being beaten by a clerk.
O, Russia of my heart, I know that you
Are international, by inner nature.
But often those whose hands are steeped in filth
Abused your purest name, in name of hatred.
I know the kindness of my native land.
How vile, that without the slightest quiver
The antisemites have proclaimed themselves
The "Union of the Russian People!"
It seems to me that I am Anna Frank,
Transparent, as the thinnest branch in April,
And I'm in love, and have no need of phrases,
But only that we gaze into each other's eyes.
How little one can see, or even sense!
Leaves are forbidden, so is sky,
But much is still allowed - very gently
In darkened rooms each other to embrace.
-"They come!"
-"No, fear not - those are sounds
Of spring itself. She's coming soon.
Quickly, your lips!"
-"They break the door!"
-"No, river ice is breaking..."
Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar,
The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement.
Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand,
I feel my hair changing shade to gray.
And I myself, like one long soundless scream
Above the thousands of thousands interred,
I'm every old man executed here,
As I am every child murdered here.
No fiber of my body will forget this.
May "Internationale" thunder and ring
When, for all time, is buried and forgotten
The last of antisemites on this earth.
There is no Jewish blood that's blood of mine,
But, hated with a passion that's corrosive
Am I by antisemites like a Jew.
And that is why I call myself a Russian!
Memories
Memories are life to me. Memories can push us forward, or they can hold us back. It depends on how we choose to let them control us. My memories have done so much of both. They've given me the strength and courage to move ahead in life, knowing that though they are no longer present, there have always been and will always be new ones to form.
Lately, memories have been holding me back. They've been winning. They've been beating me, draining the life and desire to form new ones from me. They've been thorn bushes that are choking me. But God has released me.
I've been really sad about the memories of The Cottage. Level 5. The year spent on the hill learning and growing in love with some of the most amazing people I've been fortunate enough to come into contact with and call my makeshift family. And now we're scattered, and time isn't as available, and we're growing up, and people have left, and more people are going to leave. Inevitable. And I've been allowing those memories of the times we had, the life we shared, the adventures we partook in, to break me down. To literally tie me to the couch. To drain the existence out of my soul. But no longer.
Absolutely I'm sad those memories are now just memories. I'm devastated that Lindsey had to move away. I'm upset that Christina has to work all the time. I'm terrified that Holly is growing up and moving on. But these are all good things. And I've been allowing the sorrow of all that to take away the memories that we are making now, today, in this moment. I've realized that every moment is a memory, no matter how boring or exciting it may be.
Life and love isn't defined by the grandeur of our adventures. Life isn't about changing the world in huge ways. It is about the people we impact, and the people that impact us. It is about recognizing the moments in which we changed, in which we grew, in which we lived. Sitting on the couch watching SVU marathons is as much of a memory and life experience to ponder and smile about as is taking a month long trip through the entire European landscape. Making coffee together and watching Christmas movies, setting up the Christmas tree, hanging stockings, taking long car rides in silence, watching the sun rise on the beach together...these are all worthwhile life events. These are all things to be appreciated.
My mind likes to try to convince me to think in the big picture of life. How can I impact the world the most today, in my life? What job can I have that will prove to be the most important, the most meaningful? And the answer to those questions lies in how I'm responding to the life God has given me. I can make a bigger difference in the world, in my life and the lives of those around me, by seeing the BIG things in the little things. The man that rings a bell at Christmas time. Taking the time to thank him for his contributions. Showing him, verbally and genuinely, that I appreciate what he does, that it didn't go unnoticed. THOSE are the moments to live by, those are the things that change the world, those are the qualities that God is after.
Lately, memories have been holding me back. They've been winning. They've been beating me, draining the life and desire to form new ones from me. They've been thorn bushes that are choking me. But God has released me.
I've been really sad about the memories of The Cottage. Level 5. The year spent on the hill learning and growing in love with some of the most amazing people I've been fortunate enough to come into contact with and call my makeshift family. And now we're scattered, and time isn't as available, and we're growing up, and people have left, and more people are going to leave. Inevitable. And I've been allowing those memories of the times we had, the life we shared, the adventures we partook in, to break me down. To literally tie me to the couch. To drain the existence out of my soul. But no longer.
Absolutely I'm sad those memories are now just memories. I'm devastated that Lindsey had to move away. I'm upset that Christina has to work all the time. I'm terrified that Holly is growing up and moving on. But these are all good things. And I've been allowing the sorrow of all that to take away the memories that we are making now, today, in this moment. I've realized that every moment is a memory, no matter how boring or exciting it may be.
Life and love isn't defined by the grandeur of our adventures. Life isn't about changing the world in huge ways. It is about the people we impact, and the people that impact us. It is about recognizing the moments in which we changed, in which we grew, in which we lived. Sitting on the couch watching SVU marathons is as much of a memory and life experience to ponder and smile about as is taking a month long trip through the entire European landscape. Making coffee together and watching Christmas movies, setting up the Christmas tree, hanging stockings, taking long car rides in silence, watching the sun rise on the beach together...these are all worthwhile life events. These are all things to be appreciated.
My mind likes to try to convince me to think in the big picture of life. How can I impact the world the most today, in my life? What job can I have that will prove to be the most important, the most meaningful? And the answer to those questions lies in how I'm responding to the life God has given me. I can make a bigger difference in the world, in my life and the lives of those around me, by seeing the BIG things in the little things. The man that rings a bell at Christmas time. Taking the time to thank him for his contributions. Showing him, verbally and genuinely, that I appreciate what he does, that it didn't go unnoticed. THOSE are the moments to live by, those are the things that change the world, those are the qualities that God is after.
Psalm 1
My mindset, the Western Nationalistic Christianity mindset is one of trying desperately to uphold our own ideas of right morality, propriety, and decorum. This isn't what God is talking about in Psalm 1. Sure, there are many people who get what God is saying and are living a life that is pleasing to God, and a big part of that reflects the above mentioned attributes. However, I'm sure that I am not the only one to have seen many people living a life upholding these standards, but walking around as a lifeless creature, as though all the air has been taken from their lungs.
I've met many people who seem to have it all together on the outside. People that are involved, active, fighting for change, respectful; people that don't partake in debauchery and wickedness; people who live their lives protecting their exterior, but all the while they are broken and shattered within. This isn't the type of life Christ planned for us. This isn't His Genesis of an idea of how humanity should be lived out.
Some people think that immersing ourselves into a relationship with the homeless or the downcast, addicts, prostitutes, is to turn our back on a life of morality, a life of holiness. But God spent the most time with the lost, the forsaken, the lowly, the forgotten. And this isn't to say that we must immediately immerse ourselves into that lifestyle; no, this is to say that we should remove the part of our minds and hearts that causes us to think less of them than we do of ourselves.
Psalm 1 is an inspiration and a heart wreck all in one. We are being told that we are loved by God, that we are innocent people, we don't hang out at "sin saloon", "how well God must like us"....to me, this is something incredibly hard to swallow, to digest. I chew it around and it seems to always have to be forced down my throat. I'm not innocent. I sometimes hang out at sin saloon. I don't understand how my God can call me lover, child of mine. And that's exactly it. I don't understand it. And I shouldn't, because I didn't design it, and I don't have the capacity to think in the context as Jesus Christ does. But I am blessed and loved beyond measure anyways.
"We have a God who is bringing us back, and we are responding with every heartbeat".-David Crowder
Are we?
I've met many people who seem to have it all together on the outside. People that are involved, active, fighting for change, respectful; people that don't partake in debauchery and wickedness; people who live their lives protecting their exterior, but all the while they are broken and shattered within. This isn't the type of life Christ planned for us. This isn't His Genesis of an idea of how humanity should be lived out.
Some people think that immersing ourselves into a relationship with the homeless or the downcast, addicts, prostitutes, is to turn our back on a life of morality, a life of holiness. But God spent the most time with the lost, the forsaken, the lowly, the forgotten. And this isn't to say that we must immediately immerse ourselves into that lifestyle; no, this is to say that we should remove the part of our minds and hearts that causes us to think less of them than we do of ourselves.
Psalm 1 is an inspiration and a heart wreck all in one. We are being told that we are loved by God, that we are innocent people, we don't hang out at "sin saloon", "how well God must like us"....to me, this is something incredibly hard to swallow, to digest. I chew it around and it seems to always have to be forced down my throat. I'm not innocent. I sometimes hang out at sin saloon. I don't understand how my God can call me lover, child of mine. And that's exactly it. I don't understand it. And I shouldn't, because I didn't design it, and I don't have the capacity to think in the context as Jesus Christ does. But I am blessed and loved beyond measure anyways.
"We have a God who is bringing us back, and we are responding with every heartbeat".-David Crowder
Are we?
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