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.
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