8 I have set the LORD always before me.
Because he is at my right hand,
I will not be shaken.
9 Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
10 because you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor will you let your Holy One see decay.
11 You have made known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
Psalm 16:8-11
Finals are going down right now... i was sicker than a dog last night (convenient for exam time). all is good though - the parents are coming and home is closer down the road than it was yesterday. hope all is well
yours,
ryan
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Hey homes, watch that pocket
Dear France, your people are quite kind, as this was much to my surprise i apologize for the preconceptions i loaded upon you. Going to try not to do that again, i promise. Perhaps the love from the frenchies towards us is a credit to Obama love or the good looks of my fellow travelers - Rob and Jd. Needless to say our experience in the south of France was a blast and a large part is due to the people living there.
We began our trip in Barcelona and took down dinner at this fusion food joint called 'Me'. They put forth a crazy marriage of New Orleans and Thai styled cuisine that somehow worked and boy it went well with my belly. The owner sat down, handed out recommendations, had a drink with us (a Japanese beer consisting of green tea and well, beer) and gave us his views on American culture - largely generalized yet quite on target. We tucked in early for the night and got up to stroll through the city. It was a JD inspired day - full of interesting shops (including a 200 year old shoe shop, lunch in the market, and wide screen view of barca from parque guell - designed by Gaudi, one of the coolest architects to every go crazy with math, shapes, and well just the creative intelligence God gives us. The next day we flew out to Nice, a beautiful beach town in the French Riviera. Rob and I walked down the beach the following day in our speedo slash boy skimmpies and drew laughter from some un-cultured American girls. I'm not sure what they were giggling at... well, yes i am and they stroll was worth every stare and smile. It was quite liberating and i felt truly euro. We investigated the market - always a particular affair i enjoy to the utmost and Rob was identified as a "Guatamaltecan" or "Guatemalan" by a French artist seeking to find common ground and make a sell. We think it was the artist's go to Spanish phrase, like your parents flashing their proficiency in Spanish with "taco and enchilada" or my Japanese skills with the words "kamikaze" or "bushido blade" and Rob really is quite a handsome central American. After some time on the beach we bused over to Monaco and experienced the sheer decadence of Monte Carlo - there were yachts in the harbor that could feed Africa for a month from their price tags. Quite frankly i was bothered by the lifestyle set before us and i began to contemplate - perhaps millions look at my life and what i have been given asking, "geez is that truly necessary?"
The luck strained out there. Like a ball of yarn falling from our palms, striking the ground, and rolling across the old wooden boards our plans became strewn about the room - confused, laid to waste, and jumbled up. We learned that even the 'best' laid plans and intentions can be altered by the Lord. At that His plans no matter our perception is always the best plan. [Check out Shadrach, Mesach, and Abendego in Daniel 3:16-18] We whiffed on the bus to go back to Nice, woke up the next morning to rain (our 'beach' day off course) , could not find a bus route to Provence, and we soon found our proficiency in the french language leaving something to be desired. Our trio set of towards Marseilles instead, the city where God wanted us all along - we just did not realize it at the time. Finding an English speaker was like finding a raging forest fire in the arctic - simply not happening. I was 0-11 (yes i kept a tally), an all time low or high, depending on your point of view, in procuring an English speaking liaison - memo to Obama, "nice needs rosetta stone". Nah, it was actually curiously refreshing to run into a language barrier. We are so blessed to be English speakers and oftentimes we abuse this blessing and unfairly expect everyone to speak our language as we really make little or no endeavor to learn the tongues of other nations and peoples. We arrived in Marseilles after an ordeal with the train stations in France. Without a hostel or plans for the night a roof over the head was a big priority. Again, no luck there. So we turned to the best place - the body of Christ. Rob called Del, a friend and brother of ours, sharing the good news of Christ with everyone who will listen in Marseilles. I realized that i can be quite quick to give the Lord credit for circumstances i deem "awesome" and painfully ignorant that He works beautifully in situations i consider sub par. This was one of the said lack luster situations. It is easy to tell the Father thanks for what you feel is good and obviously very difficult to do he same when the going is tough. Job, a hero of mine, comments, "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" I hope i can become more like Job with the faith and acknowledgment that God is the author of all things. Our stay with Del was incredible. Seeing the city through his eyes and his heart was humbling, challenging, and stirring. As i reached the top of Notre Dame du Gare, a cathedral resting high above the city, i realized the need for Christ amongst the millions in my sight. Let me hit you with some facts, the truth will pop you like Patrick Willis - there are more "christians" in the Congo than in France, Spain, and Portugal... combined. Off course it is difficult to look into the soul of men, surveys and box checks only reflect so much, yet this stat is heart wrenching. Del´s team has been in France for 9 years and only seen one person come to the Lord. He feels there our quite possibly less than 100 God fearing and loving people in the city. Talk about a ministry of patience and long standing love - and that one soul was more than worth those nine years. God is glorified by that, very much so. We ate some great pizza, indian food, hit the pub for the Champions League semifinal matches, and watched a good deal of late night American television - i have never felt so wonderful doing the norm once more, just kicking it with friends.
The following day brought a turn in our fortune. We plodded up Mt. St. Victory, a rock made famous (and rightfully so) by Cezzane a famed French painter. Being in nature was a treasure. Creation rocks and i love it all - the flowers, trees, grass, butterflies, wind, clouds, the sun, ripples in the water... all the features of the earth suggest something more powerful and point to the Lord - i like that. I sat at the top of that mountain and came to grips with where i was for a good while. Like waking a sleeping appendage up i felt the sensation of where i was. If your numb you can still move, you just don't feel the steps you might be taking. I want to be sensitive to where i am being led. We returned to the city, had a delicious dinner at Pasta Cozy, a wonderful joint, and again recommendation of our very own Rick Steve´s - Jd Stark - the boy can flat put things together. Bunking down was needed that night and rest was sweet. Easy to come by seeing we stayed in a military barrack themed hostel. That place was tighter than a wallet during the great depression. Tuesday my dreams, yes all of them for Europe, came to a sweet fruition. It was scooter time. Liberating it was, Jd, Rob, and I blasted out of Aix towards a vineyard in the Provence region for a tour and wine tasting. Kristina, the owner of the place (run by her fam clan for hundreds of years) put a stop to her day to show us her work. You could sense her joy in what she did through her willingness and eagerness to share. On the day, we got lost a few times, zipped through round-a-bouts, and well just looked silly. Anecdote here: asking for highway directions in France is hilarious, like a new born baby questioning parents about the theory of relativity. The process ends well for both parties - no one knows what it going down, just a copious amount of nodding and pointing.
We put the final touches on our tour by stopping back in Marseilles for a hike in the calanques, beautiful mountains tearing out of the Mediterranean off south France. I met Scott, Del's team leader, and a fellow member Jake - all incredible guys. We had some great talks about the church and christian lit (off course we chatted up John Eldridge and yes there were aplenty of jokes in regards to manliness). On the way home we detoured to Barcelona once more, where i got pick-pocketed. Im ok. No one was hurt except the guy who took my wallet. It is a wonderful story so ask me if you want to hear it. I enjoy telling it. So much so that i think it will eventually merit the 40 euros i spent to acquire it. It is incredible how much you can be taught be a moment like that.
I hope everyone is well in the states. I am excited to be coming home and especially pumped to see my beautiful parents in 13 days. Good luck to those working on finals and i eagerly await seeing many of you face to face.
yours,
ryan
We began our trip in Barcelona and took down dinner at this fusion food joint called 'Me'. They put forth a crazy marriage of New Orleans and Thai styled cuisine that somehow worked and boy it went well with my belly. The owner sat down, handed out recommendations, had a drink with us (a Japanese beer consisting of green tea and well, beer) and gave us his views on American culture - largely generalized yet quite on target. We tucked in early for the night and got up to stroll through the city. It was a JD inspired day - full of interesting shops (including a 200 year old shoe shop, lunch in the market, and wide screen view of barca from parque guell - designed by Gaudi, one of the coolest architects to every go crazy with math, shapes, and well just the creative intelligence God gives us. The next day we flew out to Nice, a beautiful beach town in the French Riviera. Rob and I walked down the beach the following day in our speedo slash boy skimmpies and drew laughter from some un-cultured American girls. I'm not sure what they were giggling at... well, yes i am and they stroll was worth every stare and smile. It was quite liberating and i felt truly euro. We investigated the market - always a particular affair i enjoy to the utmost and Rob was identified as a "Guatamaltecan" or "Guatemalan" by a French artist seeking to find common ground and make a sell. We think it was the artist's go to Spanish phrase, like your parents flashing their proficiency in Spanish with "taco and enchilada" or my Japanese skills with the words "kamikaze" or "bushido blade" and Rob really is quite a handsome central American. After some time on the beach we bused over to Monaco and experienced the sheer decadence of Monte Carlo - there were yachts in the harbor that could feed Africa for a month from their price tags. Quite frankly i was bothered by the lifestyle set before us and i began to contemplate - perhaps millions look at my life and what i have been given asking, "geez is that truly necessary?"
The luck strained out there. Like a ball of yarn falling from our palms, striking the ground, and rolling across the old wooden boards our plans became strewn about the room - confused, laid to waste, and jumbled up. We learned that even the 'best' laid plans and intentions can be altered by the Lord. At that His plans no matter our perception is always the best plan. [Check out Shadrach, Mesach, and Abendego in Daniel 3:16-18] We whiffed on the bus to go back to Nice, woke up the next morning to rain (our 'beach' day off course) , could not find a bus route to Provence, and we soon found our proficiency in the french language leaving something to be desired. Our trio set of towards Marseilles instead, the city where God wanted us all along - we just did not realize it at the time. Finding an English speaker was like finding a raging forest fire in the arctic - simply not happening. I was 0-11 (yes i kept a tally), an all time low or high, depending on your point of view, in procuring an English speaking liaison - memo to Obama, "nice needs rosetta stone". Nah, it was actually curiously refreshing to run into a language barrier. We are so blessed to be English speakers and oftentimes we abuse this blessing and unfairly expect everyone to speak our language as we really make little or no endeavor to learn the tongues of other nations and peoples. We arrived in Marseilles after an ordeal with the train stations in France. Without a hostel or plans for the night a roof over the head was a big priority. Again, no luck there. So we turned to the best place - the body of Christ. Rob called Del, a friend and brother of ours, sharing the good news of Christ with everyone who will listen in Marseilles. I realized that i can be quite quick to give the Lord credit for circumstances i deem "awesome" and painfully ignorant that He works beautifully in situations i consider sub par. This was one of the said lack luster situations. It is easy to tell the Father thanks for what you feel is good and obviously very difficult to do he same when the going is tough. Job, a hero of mine, comments, "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" I hope i can become more like Job with the faith and acknowledgment that God is the author of all things. Our stay with Del was incredible. Seeing the city through his eyes and his heart was humbling, challenging, and stirring. As i reached the top of Notre Dame du Gare, a cathedral resting high above the city, i realized the need for Christ amongst the millions in my sight. Let me hit you with some facts, the truth will pop you like Patrick Willis - there are more "christians" in the Congo than in France, Spain, and Portugal... combined. Off course it is difficult to look into the soul of men, surveys and box checks only reflect so much, yet this stat is heart wrenching. Del´s team has been in France for 9 years and only seen one person come to the Lord. He feels there our quite possibly less than 100 God fearing and loving people in the city. Talk about a ministry of patience and long standing love - and that one soul was more than worth those nine years. God is glorified by that, very much so. We ate some great pizza, indian food, hit the pub for the Champions League semifinal matches, and watched a good deal of late night American television - i have never felt so wonderful doing the norm once more, just kicking it with friends.
The following day brought a turn in our fortune. We plodded up Mt. St. Victory, a rock made famous (and rightfully so) by Cezzane a famed French painter. Being in nature was a treasure. Creation rocks and i love it all - the flowers, trees, grass, butterflies, wind, clouds, the sun, ripples in the water... all the features of the earth suggest something more powerful and point to the Lord - i like that. I sat at the top of that mountain and came to grips with where i was for a good while. Like waking a sleeping appendage up i felt the sensation of where i was. If your numb you can still move, you just don't feel the steps you might be taking. I want to be sensitive to where i am being led. We returned to the city, had a delicious dinner at Pasta Cozy, a wonderful joint, and again recommendation of our very own Rick Steve´s - Jd Stark - the boy can flat put things together. Bunking down was needed that night and rest was sweet. Easy to come by seeing we stayed in a military barrack themed hostel. That place was tighter than a wallet during the great depression. Tuesday my dreams, yes all of them for Europe, came to a sweet fruition. It was scooter time. Liberating it was, Jd, Rob, and I blasted out of Aix towards a vineyard in the Provence region for a tour and wine tasting. Kristina, the owner of the place (run by her fam clan for hundreds of years) put a stop to her day to show us her work. You could sense her joy in what she did through her willingness and eagerness to share. On the day, we got lost a few times, zipped through round-a-bouts, and well just looked silly. Anecdote here: asking for highway directions in France is hilarious, like a new born baby questioning parents about the theory of relativity. The process ends well for both parties - no one knows what it going down, just a copious amount of nodding and pointing.
We put the final touches on our tour by stopping back in Marseilles for a hike in the calanques, beautiful mountains tearing out of the Mediterranean off south France. I met Scott, Del's team leader, and a fellow member Jake - all incredible guys. We had some great talks about the church and christian lit (off course we chatted up John Eldridge and yes there were aplenty of jokes in regards to manliness). On the way home we detoured to Barcelona once more, where i got pick-pocketed. Im ok. No one was hurt except the guy who took my wallet. It is a wonderful story so ask me if you want to hear it. I enjoy telling it. So much so that i think it will eventually merit the 40 euros i spent to acquire it. It is incredible how much you can be taught be a moment like that.
I hope everyone is well in the states. I am excited to be coming home and especially pumped to see my beautiful parents in 13 days. Good luck to those working on finals and i eagerly await seeing many of you face to face.
yours,
ryan
Treading in the shoes of another
It seems a good piece of time since i last sat down and let my fingers do some talking. Since my adventure in Portugal and its Algarve region (the southernmost part of the country) i have been tramping across Europe. Through France - Paris, Nice, Monte Carlo, Aix-en-Provence, Marseilles into Italy - the Cinque Terra, Florence, Pisa, Sienna, and Rome. Ha, that list is unreal. It has been a pleasant walk - filled with interesting food, people, language, culture, and lessons. Oftentimes i find myself wholly inadequate at times. Stressed to the rupture point. A kid in the deep end with out his floaties. Although the previous statement will be weird to read it was wonderful to lay out. The truth is we really need that deep end, that difficult situation so we can start swimming.
God tells us in Hebrews that we have a high priest in Christ Jesus that knows our strife and is more than acquainted with our trouble - he Himself experienced it. He knows first hand: suffering, betrayal and denial from friends, the need for sleep (yes, Jesus sacked out), grief (Jesus wept), passion 'anger' (Jesus drove wrongdoers from His father's house), and everything under the sun forcing both you and i to pull at our hair or reach for a stress ball. How good is it that we talk to the God of the universe and He understands the language we are speaking. By this i don't mean Chinese, English, Spanish, or Italian, i mean the tongue of the human experience - joys, aches, confusion, laughter... He knows how to empathize with us because He became one of us to die for us. The old adage, "walk a mile in another's shoes" holds true here. Jesus hopped in our kicks and rocked the ironman: He ministered, healed the blind, raised the dead, proved his authority over demons, told the lame to walk, impacted the entire known world through 11 ordinary guys, went to the cross, fulfilling loads of prophecy, and attained victory over death and sin so we can can life everlasting. Clearly the manliest man and most sensitive/compassionate person in the same being.
A feeling of overwhelming peace arrives when you talk to someone who is speaking your language, who knows what you are dealing with, encourages you because they have been there before. Sounds nice huh? Wanna know that guy? Go search Him out, He is all over the place - that person is Jesus. Be encouraged to go before Him without shame, He calls you his brothers and sisters. No matter what you carry towards Him acknowledge that He died for it once and for all. His death was perfect atoning for all our junk and make us right in the eyes of God. We have not the ability to make ourselves unclean and not fit to run to Christ. As He saves those who accept His gift, we are all completely depraved, at that point not deserving to be rescued, without any merit, earning absolutely nothing. Yet, He is still mighty to save and compassionate beyond understanding to snatch us from the jaws of death. From that point on we are born again, beings with a new spirit, possessing a bold identity in Christ. All to often i don't feel worthy to go before the Lord, i start to fall into the habit of thought where i earn my trips towards His throne room. It is here where i forget what allows me to go Christ in the first place - Himself. If we feel like our baggage is too much to bring towards heaven than we have misplaced the power of God and the decisive victory of Christ's resurrection. By our sentiment of 'unworthiness' we take away from the work of Christ to make us worthy.
The last thing the Father wants is you to hide or run from Him - He knows what transpires and yet desires to be told by us. When you were a young one, a little tater tot, playing street hockey or capture the flag with the neighborhood crew you fell down, tripped, ran into things, all in all you found a way to earn some good "boo boos", scabs, and bruises. What was your reaction when you opened your knee up on the side walk? Mine, and im sure yours, was jet set towards mom or dad ASAP. They always fixed the hurt, even though the hydrogen peroxide stung like an angry beehive. The hurt is real and it can be fixed. You just have to admit the pain is there. Our relationship with Christ is the same. He can fix the hurt (in His own sovereign way), He knows the pain, He gives comfort, you just have to let him. No matter how much my mom and dad love me, they can not fix the "boos boos" if i dont let them. Remember, He tells us to enter His throne room "boldly" and that is a good thing.
God tells us in Hebrews that we have a high priest in Christ Jesus that knows our strife and is more than acquainted with our trouble - he Himself experienced it. He knows first hand: suffering, betrayal and denial from friends, the need for sleep (yes, Jesus sacked out), grief (Jesus wept), passion 'anger' (Jesus drove wrongdoers from His father's house), and everything under the sun forcing both you and i to pull at our hair or reach for a stress ball. How good is it that we talk to the God of the universe and He understands the language we are speaking. By this i don't mean Chinese, English, Spanish, or Italian, i mean the tongue of the human experience - joys, aches, confusion, laughter... He knows how to empathize with us because He became one of us to die for us. The old adage, "walk a mile in another's shoes" holds true here. Jesus hopped in our kicks and rocked the ironman: He ministered, healed the blind, raised the dead, proved his authority over demons, told the lame to walk, impacted the entire known world through 11 ordinary guys, went to the cross, fulfilling loads of prophecy, and attained victory over death and sin so we can can life everlasting. Clearly the manliest man and most sensitive/compassionate person in the same being.
A feeling of overwhelming peace arrives when you talk to someone who is speaking your language, who knows what you are dealing with, encourages you because they have been there before. Sounds nice huh? Wanna know that guy? Go search Him out, He is all over the place - that person is Jesus. Be encouraged to go before Him without shame, He calls you his brothers and sisters. No matter what you carry towards Him acknowledge that He died for it once and for all. His death was perfect atoning for all our junk and make us right in the eyes of God. We have not the ability to make ourselves unclean and not fit to run to Christ. As He saves those who accept His gift, we are all completely depraved, at that point not deserving to be rescued, without any merit, earning absolutely nothing. Yet, He is still mighty to save and compassionate beyond understanding to snatch us from the jaws of death. From that point on we are born again, beings with a new spirit, possessing a bold identity in Christ. All to often i don't feel worthy to go before the Lord, i start to fall into the habit of thought where i earn my trips towards His throne room. It is here where i forget what allows me to go Christ in the first place - Himself. If we feel like our baggage is too much to bring towards heaven than we have misplaced the power of God and the decisive victory of Christ's resurrection. By our sentiment of 'unworthiness' we take away from the work of Christ to make us worthy.
The last thing the Father wants is you to hide or run from Him - He knows what transpires and yet desires to be told by us. When you were a young one, a little tater tot, playing street hockey or capture the flag with the neighborhood crew you fell down, tripped, ran into things, all in all you found a way to earn some good "boo boos", scabs, and bruises. What was your reaction when you opened your knee up on the side walk? Mine, and im sure yours, was jet set towards mom or dad ASAP. They always fixed the hurt, even though the hydrogen peroxide stung like an angry beehive. The hurt is real and it can be fixed. You just have to admit the pain is there. Our relationship with Christ is the same. He can fix the hurt (in His own sovereign way), He knows the pain, He gives comfort, you just have to let him. No matter how much my mom and dad love me, they can not fix the "boos boos" if i dont let them. Remember, He tells us to enter His throne room "boldly" and that is a good thing.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Drawing Dirt Masterpieces
Portugal, the land where the sun puts away for the night. On a Thursday night in early May I found myself in Lagos, a quaint beach town in the Algarve region of Portugal. I was in the company of two great friends, Rob and Andrew, and fresh off a revitalizing road trip towards the west of Europe. Often times the paths you tread to get somewhere are quite fantastic- this was one of those times. The FIAT Panda, a shoe box with wheels slapped on the undercarriage, was the whip of our motion towards the coast. It was a spontaneous trip to say the least. Plans were pasted together hastily like a 2nd grader's art work. Packs were hastily thrown into the vehicle, known as the "gris mono", and we quickly set off towards a ink dot in Portugal. As Andrew hopped in the car he questioned Rob, "where are we going bro?" and Rob responded succinctly,"west".
Those directions set the tone for a liberating weekend of travel and fellowship. We got into Lagos late and found the hostel successfully with the help of the Lord and some very kind locals (a theme that continued the whole weekend). The Portuguese people are incredibly warm and friendly, quick to offer a word of help, and patient enough to make maps on bar napkins. I hope to make my way back the the land of navigators one day. We arose in Lagos the next day to a meal of fresh crepes, lemon tea, and great conversation with a Portuguese woman- who insisted on being called "Mama"... and we were her "babies" that she ended up christening the "banana boys". All this to say, she made us feel at home, far away from home. Something i did not expect and for that was greatly blessed by its presence. The day seemed as a walk through a fictional world - cliffs sprang out of the ocean like modern art statues, beaches played hide and seek with us, and a surreal experience provided for a nice close to the day. It was a little boy's heaven - every rock that found it's way into my vision, worked into my desire, which ended up with me on top of said rock after a nice scamper. It was "neverland".
As my feet rested firmly on top of these immense cliffs i wondered what inspired the explorers to reach beyond the horizon line in wooden ships - racing out into something wholly unfamiliar on purpose. Sounds great huh? The three of us spent a good part of 5 hours exploring the coastline, stopped in for a nice meal, and then headed back to base camp. On the way home we saw an open door, so we walked through it. You never know what will find you on the other side, so just put those treads on over that threshold. That is the protocol for open doors. And a mighty good strategy it can be. Upon our entry we met an awesome guy named Eduardo, the local director of the Football Club in Lagos. After some football talk he gave us a ball and let us go kick around on the pitch. Quite possibly my first and last time to play soccer in Portugal - a simple thing i hope to never forget. We played like kids who had never seen a soccer ball before - childish enthusiasm. Afterward, Eduardo led us to his car and gave a tour of the football stadium 10 minutes down the road. We will never forget his kindness and joy to let us in on his life. One day i hope to be that content with my life's work so much so that i want to display it to others like a trophy at show and tell. Later that night I ate my first burger in Europe. It was the size of my face and delish - Rob said it was probably one of the best burgers to make its way to his belly but proposed it could just be the Europe goggles talking. Amongst all those things the conversation and fellowship was rich. Getting to see Andrew's spirit for the Lord was unreal and i know God has put Him in my life to teach me a great deal. He loves God strong. The three of us shared about spiritual gifts and talked about the Lord a lot making the weekend like a traveling bible study, everyday should be like that. What is your conversation worth if it doesn't have any eternal value? We said a tentative farewell to Lagos the following morning after an awesome banjo concert from Matt, a guy we met at the hostel. We then fiddled our way towards Lisboa- the San Fran of Europe with three complementary banjo c.d's to ease our journey. You get a cd player in your rental car and dont have any music...no worries God will give you some music.
Spontaneity. Utter those syllables and you begin to feel a tinge of adventure creeping into your thoughts. Quite appropriately this whisper defines a liberating manner to enjoy the life you have been given. Often times the way in which you approach a certain moment dictates your perception of said event. We have the power to alter events in our life by simply fidgeting with our opinions, outlook, and overall disposition. Have you ever felt flat out giddy to clasp your pair of eyes on a national emblem like the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon and stepped away with heavy shoes? Your thoughts laden with a tinge of disappointment like an unwanted trespasser permeating the halls of your mind. Your expectations, fair or not, mold your experiences. We have been given a great gift to alter our perceptions of what exist. A good friend of mine, Rob Treppendahl shared a quote with me from his boy St. Francis of Assisi, that grasps this firmly. He commented, "The man who expects nothing is blessed because then he may receive everything". Allow yourself to be surprised by everything and look to find God's master stroke in the seemingly simple and mundane. Be that little boy who takes a stick, dirt, and begins to use the one to create in the other. Children seem to be able to amuse themselves with the smallest of things that we disregard - they make napkins into paper footballs blankets into forts, and fingers into weapons. You can always learn something from anyone at anytime and here we need to learn from children. Make a masterpiece out of everything you are given in life - it will be more fun that way. No expectations is a solid way to live because you can not control the future, lets not try to.
I am on my way out to the park to lay around and read. I hope you enjoy reading about Lagos. I sure enjoyed being there. I love all of you and hope you are living life with a deep sense of joy in your heart, a keen appreciation for the gifts you have been given. Every one i know has awesome things to give. So keep giving. I will finish the story about Lisboa in the coming week. ***Tottenham just beat Chelsea*** and that is whats up!!!
Those directions set the tone for a liberating weekend of travel and fellowship. We got into Lagos late and found the hostel successfully with the help of the Lord and some very kind locals (a theme that continued the whole weekend). The Portuguese people are incredibly warm and friendly, quick to offer a word of help, and patient enough to make maps on bar napkins. I hope to make my way back the the land of navigators one day. We arose in Lagos the next day to a meal of fresh crepes, lemon tea, and great conversation with a Portuguese woman- who insisted on being called "Mama"... and we were her "babies" that she ended up christening the "banana boys". All this to say, she made us feel at home, far away from home. Something i did not expect and for that was greatly blessed by its presence. The day seemed as a walk through a fictional world - cliffs sprang out of the ocean like modern art statues, beaches played hide and seek with us, and a surreal experience provided for a nice close to the day. It was a little boy's heaven - every rock that found it's way into my vision, worked into my desire, which ended up with me on top of said rock after a nice scamper. It was "neverland".
As my feet rested firmly on top of these immense cliffs i wondered what inspired the explorers to reach beyond the horizon line in wooden ships - racing out into something wholly unfamiliar on purpose. Sounds great huh? The three of us spent a good part of 5 hours exploring the coastline, stopped in for a nice meal, and then headed back to base camp. On the way home we saw an open door, so we walked through it. You never know what will find you on the other side, so just put those treads on over that threshold. That is the protocol for open doors. And a mighty good strategy it can be. Upon our entry we met an awesome guy named Eduardo, the local director of the Football Club in Lagos. After some football talk he gave us a ball and let us go kick around on the pitch. Quite possibly my first and last time to play soccer in Portugal - a simple thing i hope to never forget. We played like kids who had never seen a soccer ball before - childish enthusiasm. Afterward, Eduardo led us to his car and gave a tour of the football stadium 10 minutes down the road. We will never forget his kindness and joy to let us in on his life. One day i hope to be that content with my life's work so much so that i want to display it to others like a trophy at show and tell. Later that night I ate my first burger in Europe. It was the size of my face and delish - Rob said it was probably one of the best burgers to make its way to his belly but proposed it could just be the Europe goggles talking. Amongst all those things the conversation and fellowship was rich. Getting to see Andrew's spirit for the Lord was unreal and i know God has put Him in my life to teach me a great deal. He loves God strong. The three of us shared about spiritual gifts and talked about the Lord a lot making the weekend like a traveling bible study, everyday should be like that. What is your conversation worth if it doesn't have any eternal value? We said a tentative farewell to Lagos the following morning after an awesome banjo concert from Matt, a guy we met at the hostel. We then fiddled our way towards Lisboa- the San Fran of Europe with three complementary banjo c.d's to ease our journey. You get a cd player in your rental car and dont have any music...no worries God will give you some music.
Spontaneity. Utter those syllables and you begin to feel a tinge of adventure creeping into your thoughts. Quite appropriately this whisper defines a liberating manner to enjoy the life you have been given. Often times the way in which you approach a certain moment dictates your perception of said event. We have the power to alter events in our life by simply fidgeting with our opinions, outlook, and overall disposition. Have you ever felt flat out giddy to clasp your pair of eyes on a national emblem like the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon and stepped away with heavy shoes? Your thoughts laden with a tinge of disappointment like an unwanted trespasser permeating the halls of your mind. Your expectations, fair or not, mold your experiences. We have been given a great gift to alter our perceptions of what exist. A good friend of mine, Rob Treppendahl shared a quote with me from his boy St. Francis of Assisi, that grasps this firmly. He commented, "The man who expects nothing is blessed because then he may receive everything". Allow yourself to be surprised by everything and look to find God's master stroke in the seemingly simple and mundane. Be that little boy who takes a stick, dirt, and begins to use the one to create in the other. Children seem to be able to amuse themselves with the smallest of things that we disregard - they make napkins into paper footballs blankets into forts, and fingers into weapons. You can always learn something from anyone at anytime and here we need to learn from children. Make a masterpiece out of everything you are given in life - it will be more fun that way. No expectations is a solid way to live because you can not control the future, lets not try to.
I am on my way out to the park to lay around and read. I hope you enjoy reading about Lagos. I sure enjoyed being there. I love all of you and hope you are living life with a deep sense of joy in your heart, a keen appreciation for the gifts you have been given. Every one i know has awesome things to give. So keep giving. I will finish the story about Lisboa in the coming week. ***Tottenham just beat Chelsea*** and that is whats up!!!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
That success thing
I will soon be throwing in some goodness in regards to a weekend road trip towards the west - Portugal and spontaneous living. Until then I hope you enjoy what God gave me to write. We are mightily blessed because of Him.
I love this quote and want to share some about it...
"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours"
- Henry David Thoreau
I live with the endeavor to make God known to all nations, all tongues and tribes, to every people in the world. It is a mission - not from me or some preacher; a task given to us by God. A proclamation with a global extent - to make His glory known in every square inch of the earth - every head reaching up to His sky, every foot treading upon His earth, every set of lungs taking in the air He gives, every set of eyes gazing at the horizon line He drew, every mind considering wisdom He established, every heart beating to read the next sentence desperately needs the gospel. We all need it everyday. I need it and you need it; afresh in our hearts, ripe, ready to be picked and shared with a hungry soul. The world is craving the gospel. We advance because of Christ and sprint in the directions of His plan for the world because He snapped the chains that hindered us. God crafted in C.S Lewis the words to describe God's longing for our souls and His glorification beautifully:
"In the Christian story God descends to reascend. He comes down, down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity, down further still, down to the very roots and sea bed of the nature He had created. But He goes down to come up again and bring the ruined world up with Him. One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift. He must also disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders. Or one may think of a diver, first reducing himself to nakedness then glancing in mid air, then gone with a splash, vanished, rushing down through green and warm water into black and cold water, down through increasing pressure into the death-like region of ooze and slime and old decay. Then up again, back to color and light, his lungs almost bursting till suddenly he breaks surface again, holding in his hand the dripping precious thing that he went down to recover."
The great things is this: we are racing, ultra light converses laced to our feet, with this message in our hearts and spirits because Jesus gave it to us. The son of God didn't email this message to us and ask us to simply forward it to 10 people- He came personally, live a perfect life as a man with the divine nature of God, suffered pain on the cross as the sacrifice for our sins, and rose from the dead, putting death and sin in the proper place- beneath His feet. That is why the 72 went out in Matthew with just a staff and cloak. The gospel is worth anything. How could you repress that good news? We like our birthdays more than the gospel. I talk more about the Ole Miss Rebels than the great news that Christ's saves. I want to let God fix that. Our souls resonate with the knowledge that God didn't send money, gold, a check, or supplies to save us... He sent Himself. And for that my mouth will open and speak. God put it on my heart to write about Him... so i did. If we are believers i hope we all feel a terribly strong passion to shout God grace and saving power out from the deepest cellar's of our lungs. Let us begin to define success by God's terms and not ours. Endeavor to live and dream radically for Christ and His Glory. Be broken for what breaks Him and be passionate for His passions. Then we will meet with success undefined in common hours - the response of the Father saying to us, "well done my good and faithful servant". THAT IS SUCCESS! Don't you want it? He has filled us so we may pour out. Start giving because He gave everything to us not to hoard but to share. Your talents aren't yours. They are His. Gifted to you so He may be glorified and so in that you may have joy.
If this is all new to you - God's mission, His task is your soul and giving you His love and grace. That diver, Jesus leaps off the rock for you and the whole world. Each one of us is that "precious thing" He came down to recover. That is better than a warm, glazed, doughnut at Krispy Kreme falling apart in your mouth. Put it in your tummy and wear a smile on your face and in your soul.
Much love to all. Enjoy your spring break Ole Miss and If you get a chance check out Clark Brewer's blog titled "Glory" - beautiful stuff brother. Strength and Honor
I love this quote and want to share some about it...
"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours"
- Henry David Thoreau
I live with the endeavor to make God known to all nations, all tongues and tribes, to every people in the world. It is a mission - not from me or some preacher; a task given to us by God. A proclamation with a global extent - to make His glory known in every square inch of the earth - every head reaching up to His sky, every foot treading upon His earth, every set of lungs taking in the air He gives, every set of eyes gazing at the horizon line He drew, every mind considering wisdom He established, every heart beating to read the next sentence desperately needs the gospel. We all need it everyday. I need it and you need it; afresh in our hearts, ripe, ready to be picked and shared with a hungry soul. The world is craving the gospel. We advance because of Christ and sprint in the directions of His plan for the world because He snapped the chains that hindered us. God crafted in C.S Lewis the words to describe God's longing for our souls and His glorification beautifully:
"In the Christian story God descends to reascend. He comes down, down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity, down further still, down to the very roots and sea bed of the nature He had created. But He goes down to come up again and bring the ruined world up with Him. One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift. He must also disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders. Or one may think of a diver, first reducing himself to nakedness then glancing in mid air, then gone with a splash, vanished, rushing down through green and warm water into black and cold water, down through increasing pressure into the death-like region of ooze and slime and old decay. Then up again, back to color and light, his lungs almost bursting till suddenly he breaks surface again, holding in his hand the dripping precious thing that he went down to recover."
The great things is this: we are racing, ultra light converses laced to our feet, with this message in our hearts and spirits because Jesus gave it to us. The son of God didn't email this message to us and ask us to simply forward it to 10 people- He came personally, live a perfect life as a man with the divine nature of God, suffered pain on the cross as the sacrifice for our sins, and rose from the dead, putting death and sin in the proper place- beneath His feet. That is why the 72 went out in Matthew with just a staff and cloak. The gospel is worth anything. How could you repress that good news? We like our birthdays more than the gospel. I talk more about the Ole Miss Rebels than the great news that Christ's saves. I want to let God fix that. Our souls resonate with the knowledge that God didn't send money, gold, a check, or supplies to save us... He sent Himself. And for that my mouth will open and speak. God put it on my heart to write about Him... so i did. If we are believers i hope we all feel a terribly strong passion to shout God grace and saving power out from the deepest cellar's of our lungs. Let us begin to define success by God's terms and not ours. Endeavor to live and dream radically for Christ and His Glory. Be broken for what breaks Him and be passionate for His passions. Then we will meet with success undefined in common hours - the response of the Father saying to us, "well done my good and faithful servant". THAT IS SUCCESS! Don't you want it? He has filled us so we may pour out. Start giving because He gave everything to us not to hoard but to share. Your talents aren't yours. They are His. Gifted to you so He may be glorified and so in that you may have joy.
If this is all new to you - God's mission, His task is your soul and giving you His love and grace. That diver, Jesus leaps off the rock for you and the whole world. Each one of us is that "precious thing" He came down to recover. That is better than a warm, glazed, doughnut at Krispy Kreme falling apart in your mouth. Put it in your tummy and wear a smile on your face and in your soul.
Much love to all. Enjoy your spring break Ole Miss and If you get a chance check out Clark Brewer's blog titled "Glory" - beautiful stuff brother. Strength and Honor
Monday, March 9, 2009
Apples are better weapons than bananas
With the pause button mashed in, a toasty cup of “joe” faithfully on my right, standing at attention like a dutiful tin soldier awaiting orders, I crack my stiff fingers, search my thoughts and begin to unfold the past week and half in a country not my own. I am overwhelmed with the vastness of the world and possibility of experiences. One can never read every book, watch every movie, learn every dance, or speak every language. I world is full to the brim of things to enjoy. A cup you can never finish, and that makes me all the thirstier. I hope my message in a bottle is grabbed firmly by understanding eyes, minds, and hearts.
Friends, companions in life, fellow adventurers, are a sublime hand out. The amigos in my life here and at home are better than good and for that my soul sports a perpetual grin. The ability to be your own buddy is awesome. The little boy, who can amuse himself with a stick and some dirt, is destined for a colorful life. For him everything is wonderful. Those content with themselves, offer much to others. Yet, it is clear we were made to enjoy each other, to know and be known be others. Awareness and knowledge are as from one other as the four compass needles. It is easy to be aware of another’s life- their name, family, and hobbies- drop a salutation and move on. Difficulty and joy comes with knowing, with sharing in the triumphs and defeats of another. When you pursue friendships, the authentic ones, you allow the numbness to disparate, begin to feel, start breathing clean air for the first time.
I have always said that two true friends are of more worth than the entire world full of acquaintances. Crafted for fellowship and community, life without people living with you would be silly hard. Amongst friends the world becomes ever larger. Their passions, joys, and sufferings, become yours. You fill up, becoming larger as a person, little by little, like a rubber band ball each friend adds an element to what you already have been given. Every person you meet slides a fresh pair of glasses across the table, pick them up, wrap the arms around your face and begin to look at the world with a new perspective. Thanks to all of you: family, friends, the whole lot.
I set out for Cadiz, a charming city on the southwestern coast of Andalusia, on the whim of a thought. Powered by my ever influential pair of friends, Markus and Scott, we decided to jump town. We hopped onto the bus and ate more chocolate than the Keebler elves can put in circulation. I’m still curious as to where Scott stows it all away in his tree like frame, kid can get at it, and should consider a career in competitive grubbing, watch out Kobayashi. Upon our arrival in the city we ventured downtown to find a place to tuck in for the night. It was touch and go finding the hostel, a little rich for our wallets, with the investment came a return of free (or not so “gratis”) mints. The tasty breath aids were a justification for our hefty contribution to the Spanish financial well being. Scott and Marcus made the foray towards the coast worth it: providing comedic relief, true friendship, and the constant appreciation for a new city and experience.
We brushed quickly about the city hitting the recommended sites with the precision of a Swiss army watch. The day started after an off beat kind of night. We shared relational pasts and then received a shower of haterade from the Nordic people. The doubles team of Swedish gals insulted Markus’s Spanish accent, which makes the pronunciations from my mouth seem like those a of babbling baby, therefore I remained speechless like a devout monk vowed to silence. Good thing we bounced on them later. My foreign policy was painfully tactless and Obama fans would’ve identified me with George Bush. Soon after an invite was extended to another bar by said Swedes I stated “guys, lets get out of here”; a verbal exclamation more obvious than the pope’s religious beliefs. With the sun rise came a stroll about the city walls, peering out into the Atlantic Ocean. With our noses taking in salt laden air i tried to seek out the thought process of the first explorers, men brave enough to thrust themselves far past the horizon line into the unknown . We skimmed through a modern art museum, which gave me one of these, “hey, this is creepy and funny all at once, I want to stay and leave at the same time kind of feel”. After a trip down wacko lane we passed through a garden and Scott took samplings of the local flower populations and species (you are a botanist at heart my friend).
Our trio took a brief gander at the cathedral of Cadiz. These vestiges of a once burgeoning religion adorn the continent like cotton bolls in the bible belt of America. Pictures can do no justice to the grandeur. A facade of decadence betrays the casual passerby. The church goers are mostly tourist, wearing fanny packs like seat belts on the autobahn, paying a euro or two to imagine what used to be – a bare skeletal frame of former influence and glory. Afterward we stepped into "Faro", a classy seafood restaurant, known for the "best" seafood in Spain. Slightly under dressed we took our seats, among a swarm of fashionistas, to enjoy a nice meal. A breathtaking sunset provided the perfect bookend for the weekend before we returned towards home sweet home- sevilla.
It is obvious that the Lord is mighty to provide, going ahead of those He loves with kindness and graciousness. The Body of Christ here in Spain is breathtaking; Shakespeare has not a sonnet do it justice. I have been mercifully tossed into an awesome community of believers – who God is working through to tell me, I’m big Ryan, really big, immense, and infinitely large. We have been meeting on Tuesdays at 6:30 at Rodilla and talking about Jesus. If you are reading this, live in Sevilla, and want to come then you are more welcome to bring yourself on down. All the believers I have met here have been crafted uniquely, with special quirks. Like I have said before I find differences beautiful, and the fantastic oddities of my brothers and sisters is knocking truth into my noggin. As we express ourselves: our abilities, views of life, beliefs about God, the words come together to make God even bigger than He was before, and we can never make Him big enough – the totality of our little construction about His image is a cup of water from the ocean.
I can not wait to tell you about my adventures to Ronda and Portugal. And put some words down about spontaneity. Keep being you and hope you enjoy.
Friends, companions in life, fellow adventurers, are a sublime hand out. The amigos in my life here and at home are better than good and for that my soul sports a perpetual grin. The ability to be your own buddy is awesome. The little boy, who can amuse himself with a stick and some dirt, is destined for a colorful life. For him everything is wonderful. Those content with themselves, offer much to others. Yet, it is clear we were made to enjoy each other, to know and be known be others. Awareness and knowledge are as from one other as the four compass needles. It is easy to be aware of another’s life- their name, family, and hobbies- drop a salutation and move on. Difficulty and joy comes with knowing, with sharing in the triumphs and defeats of another. When you pursue friendships, the authentic ones, you allow the numbness to disparate, begin to feel, start breathing clean air for the first time.
I have always said that two true friends are of more worth than the entire world full of acquaintances. Crafted for fellowship and community, life without people living with you would be silly hard. Amongst friends the world becomes ever larger. Their passions, joys, and sufferings, become yours. You fill up, becoming larger as a person, little by little, like a rubber band ball each friend adds an element to what you already have been given. Every person you meet slides a fresh pair of glasses across the table, pick them up, wrap the arms around your face and begin to look at the world with a new perspective. Thanks to all of you: family, friends, the whole lot.
I set out for Cadiz, a charming city on the southwestern coast of Andalusia, on the whim of a thought. Powered by my ever influential pair of friends, Markus and Scott, we decided to jump town. We hopped onto the bus and ate more chocolate than the Keebler elves can put in circulation. I’m still curious as to where Scott stows it all away in his tree like frame, kid can get at it, and should consider a career in competitive grubbing, watch out Kobayashi. Upon our arrival in the city we ventured downtown to find a place to tuck in for the night. It was touch and go finding the hostel, a little rich for our wallets, with the investment came a return of free (or not so “gratis”) mints. The tasty breath aids were a justification for our hefty contribution to the Spanish financial well being. Scott and Marcus made the foray towards the coast worth it: providing comedic relief, true friendship, and the constant appreciation for a new city and experience.
We brushed quickly about the city hitting the recommended sites with the precision of a Swiss army watch. The day started after an off beat kind of night. We shared relational pasts and then received a shower of haterade from the Nordic people. The doubles team of Swedish gals insulted Markus’s Spanish accent, which makes the pronunciations from my mouth seem like those a of babbling baby, therefore I remained speechless like a devout monk vowed to silence. Good thing we bounced on them later. My foreign policy was painfully tactless and Obama fans would’ve identified me with George Bush. Soon after an invite was extended to another bar by said Swedes I stated “guys, lets get out of here”; a verbal exclamation more obvious than the pope’s religious beliefs. With the sun rise came a stroll about the city walls, peering out into the Atlantic Ocean. With our noses taking in salt laden air i tried to seek out the thought process of the first explorers, men brave enough to thrust themselves far past the horizon line into the unknown . We skimmed through a modern art museum, which gave me one of these, “hey, this is creepy and funny all at once, I want to stay and leave at the same time kind of feel”. After a trip down wacko lane we passed through a garden and Scott took samplings of the local flower populations and species (you are a botanist at heart my friend).
Our trio took a brief gander at the cathedral of Cadiz. These vestiges of a once burgeoning religion adorn the continent like cotton bolls in the bible belt of America. Pictures can do no justice to the grandeur. A facade of decadence betrays the casual passerby. The church goers are mostly tourist, wearing fanny packs like seat belts on the autobahn, paying a euro or two to imagine what used to be – a bare skeletal frame of former influence and glory. Afterward we stepped into "Faro", a classy seafood restaurant, known for the "best" seafood in Spain. Slightly under dressed we took our seats, among a swarm of fashionistas, to enjoy a nice meal. A breathtaking sunset provided the perfect bookend for the weekend before we returned towards home sweet home- sevilla.
It is obvious that the Lord is mighty to provide, going ahead of those He loves with kindness and graciousness. The Body of Christ here in Spain is breathtaking; Shakespeare has not a sonnet do it justice. I have been mercifully tossed into an awesome community of believers – who God is working through to tell me, I’m big Ryan, really big, immense, and infinitely large. We have been meeting on Tuesdays at 6:30 at Rodilla and talking about Jesus. If you are reading this, live in Sevilla, and want to come then you are more welcome to bring yourself on down. All the believers I have met here have been crafted uniquely, with special quirks. Like I have said before I find differences beautiful, and the fantastic oddities of my brothers and sisters is knocking truth into my noggin. As we express ourselves: our abilities, views of life, beliefs about God, the words come together to make God even bigger than He was before, and we can never make Him big enough – the totality of our little construction about His image is a cup of water from the ocean.
I can not wait to tell you about my adventures to Ronda and Portugal. And put some words down about spontaneity. Keep being you and hope you enjoy.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
A Bowl of Lucky Charms
Time in Spain is an orange. A large journey peeled away little by little, cleaned of the inch between appearance and reality, and consumed one juicy peel at a time. These full and savory “bites” of Andalusia have all possessed a character and personality of their own. Like a family of children all given different gifts and interest to share with the rest of the world. The people, the locations, the sites all share a common past and continue to splash unique colors on the canvass that is modern day Spain. A confusing reality: difference in their similarity. It is from common ground that we are able to see those differences. From here we run:
To move, to change, verbs to describe the physical act of moving from point A to point B- motion. Something is healthy about rambling, taking a stroll from point A to B, taking care to enjoy the non-existent letters between the prior two. I need that kinetic energy from A to B, a static life is like breathing without a pulse. The past couple of weeks have been of the globe trotting variety. I hearken back to the Indiana Jones films and compare my journeys to his. As if my life is a display of dots, arrows, planes, trains, and buses marching relentlessly in the foreground of a faded map. Fourteen days ago I traveled to Grenada, a city balanced in between the lofty Sierra Nevada mountain range. The history of a place and of a life determines the present, the “now”, the manner in which that town or person displays itself to the rest of the world.
Grenada is a place much akin to Louisiana- third world and proud of it. Last of the Muslim strongholds in Spain, a fusion of culture and people, a step into the city center are a pair of converse soles planting firmly into a different, unique Spain, a smash and grab of African, Muslim, European, gypsy, and Spanish cultures. The serpentine streets play host to heaps of peddlers selling nick knacks, scarves, odds and ends, clothing, essences and spices. Like an energetic child during show and tell, the store owners are eager to display their possessions. Unlike a Wal-Mart run, a purchase among the streets of Grenada includes bargaining. To exchange euros without the bargain is playing the part of a robber to your own bank account. As to be expected I took part in some wheeling and dealing, making my way through the marketplace like a politician unearthing votes. Following a successful deal I asked to take a picture with the salesman- that went over like soggy chips. Perhaps, he thought a picture would grab his soul with firm and cold fingers, makes me think the vast forces of Asian tourists cause him to consider a life in isolation. The warmth amongst rather frigid weather in the area comes from “teterias”, intimate and dim tea shops shacked to the windy streets of Grenada. Sipping on tea is kin to shrouding your body within a soft woolen blanket. It warms from the inside out- shaking the cold away for a brief repose.
The Alhambra looks proudly down onto the city and has been doing so since the 14th century. The palace was constructed not by hands alone. Stone is permanent and only Allah can bring permanence into being so the palace is constructed with rose colored bricks. Moreover, only Allah can attribute breath to a being which leaves the Alhambra without human or animal figures on its grounds, at the bottom of the ocean starving for its first “breath” in centuries. The early morning trek through the expansive grounds and small glance into the history and religion of Spanish times of yore was worth the early morning wake up call. I needed an IV of coffee after a night at Grenada 10, a lively discoteca. Mary Maher, a good friend of mine from Ole Miss, brought the shakes and moves of the south to Grenada. It was beautiful. After a good deal of Spanish conversation with Adrian, the witty and smart guide, and the striking up of friendship with some sevillanos our bus came to whisk us away. It was a great weekend (thanks to Mary Maher for her patience in finding me, and off course Scott and Marcus for keeping things light and enjoying life- cheers to our balcony lads).
The next week brought the birth of the regular academic session, initially awkward, but now fairly comfortable. Comparable to the donning of a dress shirt, stale and plastic on the first wear yet progressively more comfortable each time it slides over your shoulders. The rhythm of academia here in Spain is distinctive to the country. A good deal of out of the class reading and work is the norm. At times I feel as if I am translating the bible into an unwritten language-least to say it is time consuming, a worthy and satisfying time consumption. Along with the start of classes came the baptismal part of my Spanish conversion. Wednesday night saw me clad in a Spanish scarf and wearing the country flag like a cape of a batman wannabe on Halloween. I had a football match to attend- England vs. Spain- Torres, Xavi, Iniesta, Beckham, Lampard, Sergio Ramos- a litany of first class footballers, decorations on a field, and the pride of two nations. The fans sang anthems like members of church choirs and urged their teams on. The strength of association these people have with their sport teams is enviable. Rob and I hopped in on the Spanish chants, dancing in and out of musical notes, although it was painstakingly obvious we were Americans. I ate a terribly undercooked hamburger, with the color of an embarrassed cheek, seemingly ran through a maze to find my seat number, and enjoyed a great experience with a good buddy - Rob Clayton. All and all, it was an unforgettable evening (please go check out Rob’s blog for an account of the “Crazy English Man Dialogue”).
As i shared above about the disparity and similarity amongst the Spanish people and cities I am reminded of a truth of the world we are but tenants in. Each person has a different accent, a unique past, specific talents, varied abilities, diverse passions, and a special tint on the glasses through which they view the world. We are all created in God’s image, whether you want to bear that image or not, whether you believe or not, you have not a choice. As a result of this we can know there is something beautiful within each one of us. The cross of Christ set us free to embrace the redemption inherit to each one of us through His love. Not one person treading this world right now, the past, or future is undesirable of my love and friendship. Everyone has something to offer, a gift to give. It is up to you to receive and garner the patience necessary to see the worth and value in all the people around you. They have it. You have to find it. And because God gave it to them the hide and seek is worth it every time. A speck of sand looks strange by itself, special in color, unique in shape, but amongst thousands of other similarly different specks it is part of a beautiful beach. Just like Spain, and all of her cities, we all are the same within our differences. Once you begin to appreciate what is different you begin to value yourself.
In my next installment, hopefully coming this Friday, I will share about the great friends I have been given, Scott and Marcus, among others. A spontaneous trip to Cadiz in the southwest of Spain, the Body of Christ in Spain, and the awesome run in I had with Conchi, a native amiga of mine. It is hard to write, even weekly, I respect the welders of words immensely. To do so one must press the stop button on life and unfold life in rewind. I sometimes am afraid of what I might be missing while I tap away with my fingers and unfold the past. At that I am pressing play and getting out of here, "when in Spain..."
To move, to change, verbs to describe the physical act of moving from point A to point B- motion. Something is healthy about rambling, taking a stroll from point A to B, taking care to enjoy the non-existent letters between the prior two. I need that kinetic energy from A to B, a static life is like breathing without a pulse. The past couple of weeks have been of the globe trotting variety. I hearken back to the Indiana Jones films and compare my journeys to his. As if my life is a display of dots, arrows, planes, trains, and buses marching relentlessly in the foreground of a faded map. Fourteen days ago I traveled to Grenada, a city balanced in between the lofty Sierra Nevada mountain range. The history of a place and of a life determines the present, the “now”, the manner in which that town or person displays itself to the rest of the world.
Grenada is a place much akin to Louisiana- third world and proud of it. Last of the Muslim strongholds in Spain, a fusion of culture and people, a step into the city center are a pair of converse soles planting firmly into a different, unique Spain, a smash and grab of African, Muslim, European, gypsy, and Spanish cultures. The serpentine streets play host to heaps of peddlers selling nick knacks, scarves, odds and ends, clothing, essences and spices. Like an energetic child during show and tell, the store owners are eager to display their possessions. Unlike a Wal-Mart run, a purchase among the streets of Grenada includes bargaining. To exchange euros without the bargain is playing the part of a robber to your own bank account. As to be expected I took part in some wheeling and dealing, making my way through the marketplace like a politician unearthing votes. Following a successful deal I asked to take a picture with the salesman- that went over like soggy chips. Perhaps, he thought a picture would grab his soul with firm and cold fingers, makes me think the vast forces of Asian tourists cause him to consider a life in isolation. The warmth amongst rather frigid weather in the area comes from “teterias”, intimate and dim tea shops shacked to the windy streets of Grenada. Sipping on tea is kin to shrouding your body within a soft woolen blanket. It warms from the inside out- shaking the cold away for a brief repose.
The Alhambra looks proudly down onto the city and has been doing so since the 14th century. The palace was constructed not by hands alone. Stone is permanent and only Allah can bring permanence into being so the palace is constructed with rose colored bricks. Moreover, only Allah can attribute breath to a being which leaves the Alhambra without human or animal figures on its grounds, at the bottom of the ocean starving for its first “breath” in centuries. The early morning trek through the expansive grounds and small glance into the history and religion of Spanish times of yore was worth the early morning wake up call. I needed an IV of coffee after a night at Grenada 10, a lively discoteca. Mary Maher, a good friend of mine from Ole Miss, brought the shakes and moves of the south to Grenada. It was beautiful. After a good deal of Spanish conversation with Adrian, the witty and smart guide, and the striking up of friendship with some sevillanos our bus came to whisk us away. It was a great weekend (thanks to Mary Maher for her patience in finding me, and off course Scott and Marcus for keeping things light and enjoying life- cheers to our balcony lads).
The next week brought the birth of the regular academic session, initially awkward, but now fairly comfortable. Comparable to the donning of a dress shirt, stale and plastic on the first wear yet progressively more comfortable each time it slides over your shoulders. The rhythm of academia here in Spain is distinctive to the country. A good deal of out of the class reading and work is the norm. At times I feel as if I am translating the bible into an unwritten language-least to say it is time consuming, a worthy and satisfying time consumption. Along with the start of classes came the baptismal part of my Spanish conversion. Wednesday night saw me clad in a Spanish scarf and wearing the country flag like a cape of a batman wannabe on Halloween. I had a football match to attend- England vs. Spain- Torres, Xavi, Iniesta, Beckham, Lampard, Sergio Ramos- a litany of first class footballers, decorations on a field, and the pride of two nations. The fans sang anthems like members of church choirs and urged their teams on. The strength of association these people have with their sport teams is enviable. Rob and I hopped in on the Spanish chants, dancing in and out of musical notes, although it was painstakingly obvious we were Americans. I ate a terribly undercooked hamburger, with the color of an embarrassed cheek, seemingly ran through a maze to find my seat number, and enjoyed a great experience with a good buddy - Rob Clayton. All and all, it was an unforgettable evening (please go check out Rob’s blog for an account of the “Crazy English Man Dialogue”).
As i shared above about the disparity and similarity amongst the Spanish people and cities I am reminded of a truth of the world we are but tenants in. Each person has a different accent, a unique past, specific talents, varied abilities, diverse passions, and a special tint on the glasses through which they view the world. We are all created in God’s image, whether you want to bear that image or not, whether you believe or not, you have not a choice. As a result of this we can know there is something beautiful within each one of us. The cross of Christ set us free to embrace the redemption inherit to each one of us through His love. Not one person treading this world right now, the past, or future is undesirable of my love and friendship. Everyone has something to offer, a gift to give. It is up to you to receive and garner the patience necessary to see the worth and value in all the people around you. They have it. You have to find it. And because God gave it to them the hide and seek is worth it every time. A speck of sand looks strange by itself, special in color, unique in shape, but amongst thousands of other similarly different specks it is part of a beautiful beach. Just like Spain, and all of her cities, we all are the same within our differences. Once you begin to appreciate what is different you begin to value yourself.
In my next installment, hopefully coming this Friday, I will share about the great friends I have been given, Scott and Marcus, among others. A spontaneous trip to Cadiz in the southwest of Spain, the Body of Christ in Spain, and the awesome run in I had with Conchi, a native amiga of mine. It is hard to write, even weekly, I respect the welders of words immensely. To do so one must press the stop button on life and unfold life in rewind. I sometimes am afraid of what I might be missing while I tap away with my fingers and unfold the past. At that I am pressing play and getting out of here, "when in Spain..."
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