choice (background)

Man in his state apart from God is a depraved creature, subject to the whims of his base nature, and is quickly dying. It is simply by the grace of God that man is able to lift his head, acknowledge his state and plead for more of that very grace that lifted his very head.

Adam chose for all mankind or if perceived outside of time, all mankind chose for Adam. To be as God is, to know right and wrong and decide as if we were a god- was our first choice and nothing has been the same since. With this decision we walked separate, apart from God. No longer was he able to draw near, to commune with us, nor us with him. Instead a holy distance developed in the space between God and man. And both were pained.

Man wondered about doing as he pleased, filling the earth, filling his belly, fulfilling his pleasures. He did as he pleased, for he was not his brothers keeper, was he? If it was pleasing, he took it, if it was painful, he fled from it. Man was left to himself and with that came death. And God full of pain decided to rid the earth of his creation.

There was a man however who walked upright. Who did not give himself over to himself, but instead, walked with God as he was a righteous and blameless man. (It is amazing what God will do for one righteous person.) So God didn't wipe out the entire Earth for the sake of Noah, and instead began building a people he could call his own. They would be his people, and he would be their God.

Thus begins a journey towards Jesus, the journey of a people, selected by God for another righteous man. This man would be the father of God's people, and his children would be numbered like the stars and the sand, and so the covenant is formed. The relationship is full of 'despites' from the very beginning. Despite man's best attempts to get in the way, ruin, and walk away from God, he is always dragged back. Despite constant idolatry, thickheadedness, adultery, murder, and countless other crimes and sins, God makes for himself a people. God is holy but is not afraid of using unholy people. And from this very people that he formed, there will come the one who crossed that holy distance between God and his people, and drew them together.

He came small and unsuspecting. Lived as a man, and was tempted in every way, yet his eyes did not linger, his heart did not covet. His words pierced hearts and minds as he spoke of a kingdom, not so far away. A kingdom where the lame walked and the blind received sight, the orphans found family and the hungry found food, the broken found comfort and the sad found joy. This kingdom is open to all, but the road is narrow, the gate small, and only those who seek find. He who is first, well he will be last, and he who is servant of all will be the greatest. And unless you become like a little child you will never get in. But faith as small as a mustard seed is all it takes.
So blessed is he who is poor in spirit, for he will recognize the kingdom, and it will be his. And lest it is thought that by works one may get in, it is only for grace, that none will be able to boast.

And so he lived a different life. One fit for a different sort of world, a different sort of kingdom. He lived and then he died. Hanging there with blood and energy seeping from his body they heaped insults on him, “you saved others, why don't you save yourself?” not seeing that every shallow breath was bringing them closer to the very forgiveness that he had just prayed over them, “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Meanwhile, the thief on his one side turned to him and with a simple request was with him later that day in paradise. Faith so small that it is barely noticed yet it got him to a kingdom where many are invited but few are chosen. The other thief staring into the dying face of God, sneered along with the rest. Choice.

Three days later Jesus overcame death and the world has never been the same. But he did not stay long for he was to go and in his stead, send the helper, the Holy Spirit. And with the very winds of Pentecost, the person of Jesus and the Kingdom of his Father has not stopped spreading to this day.

Grey eyes and a dirty beard
hang down to holy sneakers
and cracked hands holding the cardboard
that asks God's blessing on those who give to the poor.
Weathered flannels and yellow teeth
don't find much to chew-
so an empty stomach nags
his worn soul.
Scabs and bruises cover two arms
filled with used veins
that can't often run in a straight line
because it makes the night warmer,
the bench softer,
and the memories a little foggier.

updates

bad bad bad. it's been a full week since i've written. well on my blog anyways. sorry to my faithful readers. to my unfaithful readers, well, you've got no room to complain about my unfaithful writing.

so a few quick updates:
it's cold here now.

it's even colder in my room than outside. it's simply the law of my room, it is always either hotter than the hotness outside, or colder than the coldness.

i am in a state of flux over whether to cut my hair short again or continue to grow it to warm my ears during the long cold nights i spend in my bed.

i'm taking a protein/carbohydrate drink in order to gain a bit of weight because im tired of outspoken latins telling me i need to eat, when i already eat.

i'm going to England the 27th of December till the 3rd of January. i'm taking a Spanish friend along who speaks good english, should be a great time.

az and abby have been gifted this amazing videocamera. as im the resident tech i get to play with it... and i thought my camera was fun... there might be some run-on benefits for my blog in the future.

this year's loss to ohio state only ruined one weekend instead of the usual weeklong aftershock. small benefit to being removed from the scene of the crime by an ocean. (it case you don't understand, my team Michigan just lost the game of the century. there is brief talk that there might be a rematch in a few months, though who knows.)

well that's all the updates i've got time for, it's time to eat. and of course i can't afford to miss that.

bicycles and dominicans

about a month ago my good dominican friend, willy de jesús de la cruz lent me his bike. now for those of you who understand spanish, the fact that i now have a bicycle won't have registered because you will have been too fixated on that fact that it was lent to me by willy of jesus of the cross. yep, that's his name and he lent me his unused bike for the time being. if you want to see what willy de jesús de la cruz looks like, check out the previous post entitled 'coffee' located in the month of september. willy is the black coffee.

so he's a great guy, not just because he lent me his bike, but for a long of other reasons which i am not going to expound on here simply because i am too enamored with having a bike and can think of little else. it's really been something good for me. i must say, when i first borrowed it, i was like, 'hey, cool, i like this.' a whole month and something later, i am like, 'wow, having a bike is awesome!' it's only been getting better with time. man i hope that's what it's like being married. i sense an analogy beginning to brew about marriage and bikes, but i think i'll let it go for now.

so tonight i put a good hour in on it, with some football in between. after my english lessons followed by spanish lessons it was time for some evening football. so i pedaled off to where we were going to play. a good twenty minutes later i arrived. played some quality sport and pedaled home another good 25 minutes, and i feel great! greatly tired! but just think how long that would have taken me to walk. and besides, buses aren't allowed to go the wrong way up one way streets like i am on my bike. in case you are into math and want to call me on the fact that i only actually did 45 minutes of riding instead of the hour i confessed to earlier, well i had 15 minutes here and there prior...

so thanks for the bike willy. it really is great. and here's to it never getting stolen. (maybe tomorrow i'll even take a picture and post it! how exciting would that be??!?)

a century of writing

somehow, someway, café in españa has managed to pile up 99 previous posts. this will make it 100. in less than a year i might add. what i ask myself though, is what kind of gift i am giving... on the day we leave behind double digits to enter the daunting but yet secure world of triple i am gifting a lousy post. a post considering only itself and its own shallow glory. i should be treating some tender subject like compassion or powerful concept like forgiveness and yet i sit and hit keys which simply speak of length. longevity. yet even my longevity is subjective. and who am i to be an expert at 23?

if the average lifespan of a healthy male in the western world hovers around 75, then ive nearly covered what could possibly be a third of my life. that makes me stop for a moment. death isn't something i think about everyday. (if you want a strange and random circumstance, Hootie and the Blowfish's song - "when i get to heaven" just came on my random player by circumstance) so chew on that.
i think death is something i want to be prepared for. by prepared i could mean several things. prepared to face the God who made me from dust, several generations back. prepared to give account for how the heck i spent my life, whether i loved, clothed, fed, and sheltered- physically or emotionally or even spiritually. prepared to experience finally being completely human. prepared to let go of what i hold dear here until my hands are finally empty and only holding out for completion. prepared at last to see the fullness of grace and forgiveness it took for me.

there is a book called till we have faces. the title in and of itself leads to me ponder a day when we will finally have faces and be seen and known for who we really are, perhaps simply looking into faces.

well this posting took on a life of its own, perhaps fitting for the beginning of a new era. tomorrow i will come back and see what i've actually written and hopefully not have to change too much.

something about a rabbit

Here I am at the end of a busy last week! Had a fabulous visit from Dave R and Henry F for those who know them. I laughed a lot, learned a lot, and even loitered about, talking into the night a lot. Perhaps this blog shall bear the fruits of some of those chats. It is a shame not all of it can be repeated, but what I come away with is a bit more vision, a bit more excitement, and a lot more faith. And the bearded sailor in the background? Well, we are not sure where he came from but he says his name is Cave.

the schmoot

well the other day, Daniel bit the hand that feeds him. yes, he bit it literally and figuratively. it only took the few teeth that he's got and a naughty streak the length of his little body.

Daniel is 20 months old and already burning bridges. shamefully really. you see, the hand he bit was mine! the hand that feeds him was mine!!

i have given to the little man. i have given and i have given until there was little left to give. and then i gave some more. i feed his greedy little mouth. i wipe his nose when it snots. i give him his milk when he's ready for bed. i put him in his bath. i get his toys out for him. i put his toys away for him. i carry him. i push him. i hold him upside down and tickle him till tears run down his chubby little face. i get him out of trouble. i save him from his sometimes bossy older sister. i rock him when he's crying. i pull him out of the toilet when he manages to get the lid open. i buy him gifts. i give him food off my own plate, even when he's already stuffed his own two helpings down his throat. i take him to the park. i put videos on for him. i give him juice when he's thirsty. I GIVE THE LITTLE MAN MORE THAN HE COULD EVER NEED!

and what does he go and do? he bites the hand that feeds him.

in both the literal and figurative sense.

what are we to do with the scoundrel?

see it happened that he was left alone for the briefest of moments. and not a moment more. when supervision left he was sitting on his little butt in the lounge playing with his little truck, mouth wide open. not but the smallest of time frames later, when supervision returned, he was found, still on the floor, but this time with cds, taken out of their cases and spread everywhere. under his schmoot (where left hand would be) was one of the cds, BEING PUSHED across the tile floor, sensitive side down! not only that, but the little guy had his mouth WIDE OPEN and a grin stuck on his cheeky face. RASCAL! in open defiance he continued to push cd across the room, thoroughly enjoying the scratching sound that came from below. it was not even below him to emit several squeals of delight at this new sick game he had discovered!

i could continue to describe the situation but you should have the picture.

what is more, and not but half an hour later, my hand was literally feeding that same open mouth, when he decided to bite it! not once, but twice! so, the small man in the end, bit the hand that feeds him three times. once figuratively, and twice literally.

i shall leave you to be the judge. does the squirt deserve to still be fed from that same hand?

(rumors are circling that the two literal bites that took place after the figurative bite were actually actually forced into happening by the writer in order to expound on his own story. daniel claims his innocence, but no proof has been found as of the moment.)

who's looking at who? and what are all the buildings bowing to? maybe it's simply introspection...

pues, mis padres. son muy buenos... in chicago as well.

aye mi hermanitos y yo. it was a summer's day in chicago. a hot summers day. and if you look closely, my little brother has thick-soled shoes. oh wait you can't see his feet, but he's standing on his tip-toes...

nunca llueve a guste de todos

so its been raining here for the last two weeks. pretty amazing really since last year they went about nine months without a real rain. it doesn't take one long to forget what it is like to live in sunlight. i can only imagine what it must be like for those who live in England or Seattle.

a quick update on my likes and dislikes:
im on a big greek-yogurt high. try the stuff, beats normal yogurt.
bananas have been tasting rather nice recently.
dark chocolate. mmmm.
long sleeve shirts.
listening to the rain crash onto my cieling.
brushing my teeth thrice a day.
talking on skype.
riding my loaned bike everywhere. i get there faster than you would believe.
i dislike walnuts as much as ever.
same goes for celery.
i did ride a horse the other day- it was real nice.
what isn't nice is when my spanish prof doesn't show and i wait 45 minutes before i give up.

recent indifferences:
washing the dishes.
breezes. well, they'd nearly make my likes. there's been some good ones lately.
jeans being muddy at the bottoms.


so there is always good and bad with the rain, and as they say here "nunca llueve a guste de todos" meaning it never rains to everyone's pleasure.

zzzz

what a rainy sunday. it would have been a rainy anyday, but today happened to be sunday. what a good sunday though. and i was going to write a real blog but i've been blindsided by tiredness and must retire to my bed. for tomorrow is monday and another week dawns. buenas noches...

los tres, durmiendo

si quieres saber como es la siesta

choice and santification

what my man Buechner says:

In "Beauty and the Beast," its is only when the Beast discovers that Beauty really loves him in all his ugliness that he himself becomes beautiful.
In the experience of Saint Paul, it is only when we discover that God really loves us in all our unloveliness that we ourselves start to become godlike.
Paul's word for this gradual transformation of a sow's ear into a silk purse is sanctification, and he see it as the second stage in the process of salvation.
Being sanctified is a long and painful stage because with part of themselves sinners prefer their sin, just as with part of himself the Beast prefers his glistening snout and curved tusks. Many drop out with the job hardly more than begun, and among those who stay with it are few if any who don't drag their feet most of the way.
But little by little- less by taking pains than by taking it easy- the forgiven person starts to become a forgiving person, the healed person starts to become a healing person, the loved person starts to become a loving person. God does most of it. The end of the process, Paul says, is eternal life.

of note

it must be said that one of the greatest pleasures in life is the wearing of brand new socks.

Choice re-examined

"Life is a journey that we are all making... Or maybe being taken on... But perhaps the older we become the more we are being taken and the less we actually making..."
-Choice


Anonymous said...
hmmmm

Bex said...
I conker

Mom said...
Maybe when we get old we are just living out the journey of our making from ones youth. The other choice would mean I'd have to believe in fate.

Anthony said...
or that we are shaped by our choices and eventually we become them..?

Ashley said...
I guess this brings up the question of whether we can actually do the making. Maybe life is just a serious of choices of how to respond?

Brooks said...
Much to my chagrin, It seems the choices I make (or am led to make) have consequences. These consequences seem to compound over the years to form a broad road that narrows upon the horizon.
With the Quote in mind my question follows: This increase of frequency with which we surrender to our previous choices, is it caused merely by age? or are we in fact not surrendering at all, but rather continually affirming our previous decisions however distantly made by daily choosing to continue a little further down the path, each step drawing us one closer to our end; Each consequently weighing on us with the strangely comfortable baggage of predictability or releasing us into the discomfort of freedom experienced through following God into the unknown.

Anthony said...
CS Lewis is quoted as saying we become our choices. So choice by choice, consequence by consequence we eventually become less distinct from the decisions we make. The further along down a road we go, the harder it is to turn around as perhaps something like momentum gradually takes hold.
Denying oneself is not easy. Following God into the unknown is not easy. Loving in the face of hate is hard.
Living selfishly is easy. Selfcenteredness comes naturally. Giving back what you've been given, good or bad, natural.
Consistently choosing the latter, choice by choice, day by day, brings about a slow but sure change that is not easily reversed. The tainted human instinct becomes stronger and more engrained. Until you are dangerously close to not simply being a selfish, selfcentered person, but rather simply selfish and selfcentered, and not as much of a person.
Consistently choosing the former, choice by choice, day by day, brings about a slow but sure change that is not easily reversed. While perhaps I am not old enough to speak so far down the road, but looking at what Lewis said, eventually the latter loses its place as primal instinct. Instead love, patience, faith, kindness, take their place and you become more human than ever.

on the bus 2

by Ashley...

I have my own experiences taking public transit on the poor side of Bloomington to go to the chyropractor a couple of times a week. The other day, I was sitting at a bus stop and this guy came and sat by me... kind of rough looking. After mentioning the weather we fell silent and I sat debating whether to try and talk with him a bit more or to just continue reading an article for class. Deciding that it would be a good thing to do since he seemed to want to talk, I decided to strike up a conversation again... Hard be it to find something to talk about though. My inquiry of where he was heading went no where... So I sat pondering what I could talk about and feeling kind of awkward that I could sit there sporting my IU shirt, knowing how different the direction my life was headed in compared to this guy's 9-5 job which probably didn't pay enough to let him afford a car. We were on the bus for very different reasons... I would probably earn enough one day to have a car while the bus was just a fact of life for him. I fell silent again racking my brain for a common topic to chat about... should it be that hard? The usual college banter about majors and such wouldn't work...
And then he spoke up. "Do you like art?" This was probably the last thing I expected him to say. And I felt ashamed... because this guy could humbly relate to others regardless of his life situation. I could tell from our conversation that he was someone that would probably thrive at college and I almost wished I could offer him my opportunity of going to college.
I haven't quite processed it yet but sitting at that bus stop I was disgusted with how hard it was to talk to others whose lives were so different and how I could actually talk to them out of sympathy and pity. Do they deserve that? This guy would go to the art gallery openings at IU and here I had the audacity to assume that we didn't have much in common. I have seen the community that the regular bus riders have created among themselves... greeting each other with a friendly hello every morning and discussing the local coming and goings... where I sit and complain about having to take a bus and when I do step on a bus, I sit there and zone out thinking about the million other things I have to do. Is what I have so much better?... Or are some people finding a beauty and community amidst the harsh, rawness of life that I am missing out on?

resfriado

its like it builds without you even realizing it. slowly it moves in. you are aware of it subconciously long before you ever put name to it. maybe in the back of the throat or a tickle in the nose. when suddenly its upon you and you realize that you are sick.

well i was laying in bed two nights ago when it suddenly hit me out of no where that my throat was sore. one second it wasn't sore and the next it was. or at least one second i wasn't aware of it and the next i was.

well after launching a full attack of vitamin C I seem to have vanquished the sore throat but am left with the tedious task of cleaning up the carnage. namely a runny nose and dry eyes. these seem to hang on that little bit longer after the main battle is won. so i diligently drag some toilet paper/kleenex around with me, dabbing, blowing, sniffling, etc etc every ten minutes it seems. then comes a sneeze and there is some real cleanup to be done. but enough detail. here's to horse size pills stuffed with vitamin C and immuno-start to get one on the road to recovery!

facelift

new blog look! well not much has changed but its now in beta format, how exciting. as well check out new font on titles and an exciting new blog archive. it's like having more than one birthday in a year! maybe they'll even be a new profile updation coming soon. and yes, updation was used on purpose.