I've noticed that I've kind of gotten away from posting things about art, but I promise you that there's lots of art things pushing around in my skin.. It's just that I haven't let it out to play in a while. So, instead I'm going to rattle on about some things that I've been thinking about recently.
If you're not plugged into the grape vine, I have a boyfriend and the two month mark is coming up in January. It's still pretty crazy to think that I have a boyfriend, because I've never really had one before, and he's such a sweetheart and a man of God. The reason I bring this up is because I've noticed that I talk about Scott a lot. I think half of the stuff that comes out of my mouth recently is about him, or somewhere we went, or something he said and/or did that I thought was fantastic. I don't talk about him ALL the time (because then I would annoy myself), I've just noticed that I talk about him a lot.
I'm excited about Scott: I love the way he treats me, respects me, talks to me, goofs around with me; I love the way he loves God and seeks God... and I love it when people ask, "So how's your boyfriend doing?" or "How are things with Scott?"
So, I was thinking about this the other day and came to an intersting conundrum. Although I enjoy Scott, and love talking about him, I should be just as excited (and then some) about my relationship with God. Some time ago in church, Pastor Mark gave a sermon about how exciting and joyful we ought to be about our relationship with Christ - much in the same way we are excited about a relationship with a significant other and excited to tell others about Him. I didn't fully grasp the concept because at the time I was single, but now I understand it all too well.
While I buzz around making sure that everyone and their mom knows that "Yvonne has a boyfriend and she thinks he's AWESOME," should I not also buzz around to make sure everyone knows the Savior of my soul, and how awesome He is?
Yes, I probably ought to do that. And though I know this -- though I know the charge put before me to share the good news about Christ -- I don't always share what it is that God's been doing in my life, or how God loves me and other people. Granted, I understand that bringing up Jesus is probably a bit more offensive than bringing up my boyfriend; however, this should not deter me from speaking truth or shedding light into the darkness. Although, granted yet again, I know that telling someone about Scott is not going to change their life... I can't even claim that Scott changed my life because God was the one that did that.
But, telling someone about Jesus will rock their world, either positively or negatively (and prayerfully, the response would be positive).
I suppose the up side of this realization is that I can praise Him who began a good work in me, because He is faithful to complete the good work. So this dilemma won't be left all on its own, but rather I know God's going to work with me on it.
So, prayerfully this thing will get sorted out sooner rather than later. In the end, I just need to make sure I don't willfully neglect telling people about Christ because when that happens, I'll have a much bigger problem on my hands.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Buzzing Brain Bees
I realized a problem that I have.
It's not that I neglected my note about surrealism (which I WILL get back to sometime in the near future... I hope).
Rather, this has to do with my habits of book buying and book reading. I'm not exactly what you would call a highly intellectual person (really, I'm not) but I will readily admit that I like information. I enjoy learning and discovering things... even though I'm not really discovering something that hasn't already been found before. Most of the books that I own are, in some format or another, about Christian growth. Some are about art. Some of them are about theology. Only a few are fiction - which, isn't that terribly ironic? a person fueled on creativity doesn't read that which is creative?
I haven't quite figured out why I'm like this. I enjoy fictional books, I just don't read them that often, at least not since I became a Christian. Since I became a follower of the Savior of the world, nearly all of my energy and focus has been discovering what exactly it means to be a follower of the Savior of the world.
It's like this insatiable thirst to find out answers to these questions: Who am I in Christ? What does it mean to be a Christian? What do I believe about the Bible? What do I believe about God? How does the Spirit work within me? ... etc. I want to know and I want to understand, and in turn I want to share that information with others.
Half of the books I own that help me traverse such questions, however, are waiting to be read. I am a slow reader. I like to digest words on paper, savoring sentences -- and sometimes things are harder to swallow than others. And yet, although I have all these other books left unread, I persist in buying more before I'm done with the others. I'm prepping myself for the day I'll be able to read the other books, I guess. I don't know.
Perhaps you could say that I'm a collector of applicable information... but that makes it sound more fancy than it needs to be. This is only part of my problem, though. Perhaps not even the bigger part of the problem.
I mean, I just like to learn things.
That means is that I have a lot of little random things buzzing around in my brain. These are anything from that which is inconsequential and not really that big of a deal... to what little I know about theology and Biblical text. Although it seems like a lot in some ways, in other ways I also know that what I know is not a lot. I've had my healthy share of feeling as dumb as a brick (especially when it comes to those common-knowledge, common sense kind of things).. I'm not a brainiac. I just like to tear things apart and try to figure them out.
There's always something more to learn. There's always something else to dig into, process, and store away for some use or another. And someone is always going to know more than I do about things. It's just a fact of life.
The reason why all of this is the second part of my problem is that I don't keep things - as Scott would say - "simple."
I over-think and complicate things that don't need to be over-thought or complicated. This is particularly true with spiritual issues, the Bible, and theology.
Let's bring up an example fresh out of the oven: today and yesterday was spent at Regional Staff Seminar for training. The topic: Biblical Application. Now, I was thinking one thing going into the seminar - that I was going to learn more about the Bible itself - and came out carrying something totally different. Pastor Dean Trulear was our speaker (and was phenomenal by the way) and one the biggest point about our time together was that we have the tendancy to take the Bible and see all the principles... While totally missing the Person. I know that the Bible is designed as not only a manual for life, but also as a means to get to know the Creator... but you know what, I think I tend to focus a heck of a lot more on the Manual part, and the informational part, that I don't always hear God's voice in the text.
I need to get back to seeking the seeking the relationship rather than the information.
So while my hunger and thirst to learn is probably a great thing, it's also my pitfall. Oh that the Lord would teach me how to balance it!
Keeping it simple is a lot harder than what it sounds like. At least, that's my perspective, as the person who over-thinks things. I'll see an issue that I could just simply trust that God knows how to handle, and try to figure out all the ways my hands are going to get dirty by meddling with the situation. I think about the things that could happen afterward. I think about how it might affect the way people think about me, or other such ridiculous things.
Come to think of it, when I over-think things, there's a common theme: me. It's all about me and my little world and how a situation is going to affect my little world; or how it disrupts my ideas about spirituality, theology, or life.
Dang.
It sucks when you realize how self-centered (or self-perserving) you can be in your own head.
But anyway.
Simple. Because I'm such an information-hog, let's see what we can find out about that word itself: humble, easy to understand/deal with, inornate, common or ordinary, naive, natural, unassuming.... and a handful of others. Thank you, Dictionary.com.
When I think of 'keeping it simple,' in regards to my relationship with God, I think of child-like faith. ... Knowledge and learning are not bad things. But, clearly I can understand how they complicate things when trying to trust God. Another way to put it is to say that I need to put my hope in God.
I need to open up my hands, stop clenching the issues that I keep complicating, and allow God to take care of it. ...And not just allow Him to do it, but also acknowledging God's faithfulness in all things. "I don't know what's going on, but I know that God does, and that's enough for me." It's not tossing what I know out the window or checking my brain at the door. By no means. But... perhaps it means that I need to submit my knowledge to my Creator, knowing that He knows all things and I don't.
I don't know. I think my thoughts are starting to pull at the seams.
"I still have the heart of a seeker, but I need the faith of a child." Supertones, you're speaking my language.
Blog, there's so much more that I would like to write about. Other things and thoughts that have nothing to do with my problem of sucking up information like a sponge.... which really isn't a proper image, since a lot of the information ends up falling out. Maybe I'm like an information bucket.
Right. I have bigger fish to fry than this.
It's not that I neglected my note about surrealism (which I WILL get back to sometime in the near future... I hope).
Rather, this has to do with my habits of book buying and book reading. I'm not exactly what you would call a highly intellectual person (really, I'm not) but I will readily admit that I like information. I enjoy learning and discovering things... even though I'm not really discovering something that hasn't already been found before. Most of the books that I own are, in some format or another, about Christian growth. Some are about art. Some of them are about theology. Only a few are fiction - which, isn't that terribly ironic? a person fueled on creativity doesn't read that which is creative?
I haven't quite figured out why I'm like this. I enjoy fictional books, I just don't read them that often, at least not since I became a Christian. Since I became a follower of the Savior of the world, nearly all of my energy and focus has been discovering what exactly it means to be a follower of the Savior of the world.
It's like this insatiable thirst to find out answers to these questions: Who am I in Christ? What does it mean to be a Christian? What do I believe about the Bible? What do I believe about God? How does the Spirit work within me? ... etc. I want to know and I want to understand, and in turn I want to share that information with others.
Half of the books I own that help me traverse such questions, however, are waiting to be read. I am a slow reader. I like to digest words on paper, savoring sentences -- and sometimes things are harder to swallow than others. And yet, although I have all these other books left unread, I persist in buying more before I'm done with the others. I'm prepping myself for the day I'll be able to read the other books, I guess. I don't know.
Perhaps you could say that I'm a collector of applicable information... but that makes it sound more fancy than it needs to be. This is only part of my problem, though. Perhaps not even the bigger part of the problem.
I mean, I just like to learn things.
That means is that I have a lot of little random things buzzing around in my brain. These are anything from that which is inconsequential and not really that big of a deal... to what little I know about theology and Biblical text. Although it seems like a lot in some ways, in other ways I also know that what I know is not a lot. I've had my healthy share of feeling as dumb as a brick (especially when it comes to those common-knowledge, common sense kind of things).. I'm not a brainiac. I just like to tear things apart and try to figure them out.
There's always something more to learn. There's always something else to dig into, process, and store away for some use or another. And someone is always going to know more than I do about things. It's just a fact of life.
The reason why all of this is the second part of my problem is that I don't keep things - as Scott would say - "simple."
I over-think and complicate things that don't need to be over-thought or complicated. This is particularly true with spiritual issues, the Bible, and theology.
Let's bring up an example fresh out of the oven: today and yesterday was spent at Regional Staff Seminar for training. The topic: Biblical Application. Now, I was thinking one thing going into the seminar - that I was going to learn more about the Bible itself - and came out carrying something totally different. Pastor Dean Trulear was our speaker (and was phenomenal by the way) and one the biggest point about our time together was that we have the tendancy to take the Bible and see all the principles... While totally missing the Person. I know that the Bible is designed as not only a manual for life, but also as a means to get to know the Creator... but you know what, I think I tend to focus a heck of a lot more on the Manual part, and the informational part, that I don't always hear God's voice in the text.
I need to get back to seeking the seeking the relationship rather than the information.
So while my hunger and thirst to learn is probably a great thing, it's also my pitfall. Oh that the Lord would teach me how to balance it!
Keeping it simple is a lot harder than what it sounds like. At least, that's my perspective, as the person who over-thinks things. I'll see an issue that I could just simply trust that God knows how to handle, and try to figure out all the ways my hands are going to get dirty by meddling with the situation. I think about the things that could happen afterward. I think about how it might affect the way people think about me, or other such ridiculous things.
Come to think of it, when I over-think things, there's a common theme: me. It's all about me and my little world and how a situation is going to affect my little world; or how it disrupts my ideas about spirituality, theology, or life.
Dang.
It sucks when you realize how self-centered (or self-perserving) you can be in your own head.
But anyway.
Simple. Because I'm such an information-hog, let's see what we can find out about that word itself: humble, easy to understand/deal with, inornate, common or ordinary, naive, natural, unassuming.... and a handful of others. Thank you, Dictionary.com.
When I think of 'keeping it simple,' in regards to my relationship with God, I think of child-like faith. ... Knowledge and learning are not bad things. But, clearly I can understand how they complicate things when trying to trust God. Another way to put it is to say that I need to put my hope in God.
I need to open up my hands, stop clenching the issues that I keep complicating, and allow God to take care of it. ...And not just allow Him to do it, but also acknowledging God's faithfulness in all things. "I don't know what's going on, but I know that God does, and that's enough for me." It's not tossing what I know out the window or checking my brain at the door. By no means. But... perhaps it means that I need to submit my knowledge to my Creator, knowing that He knows all things and I don't.
I don't know. I think my thoughts are starting to pull at the seams.
"I still have the heart of a seeker, but I need the faith of a child." Supertones, you're speaking my language.
Blog, there's so much more that I would like to write about. Other things and thoughts that have nothing to do with my problem of sucking up information like a sponge.... which really isn't a proper image, since a lot of the information ends up falling out. Maybe I'm like an information bucket.
Right. I have bigger fish to fry than this.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Throw in a dash of surrealism...
I've suddenly uncovered an artist from Quebec that has captured my artistic attention...
Pol Turgeon. Check out some of his work here. Or you can also go here.
This is partially a reminder to myself... I will likely edit this post with more thoughts later. But as for now, I've got to pick up some antibiotics to take care of this respiratory infection.
Pol Turgeon. Check out some of his work here. Or you can also go here.
This is partially a reminder to myself... I will likely edit this post with more thoughts later. But as for now, I've got to pick up some antibiotics to take care of this respiratory infection.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Remember what I told you about butterflies...?
People say that there's a first for everything... Pretty accurate, right?
More than once will we take our first steps and our first words.
First steps into a new period in our lives, or the first words we exchange with a new friend. As obvious as it may seem, those 'firsts' can certainly be only the beginning for something bigger, even bigger than we initially thought when it first started. One thing always leads to another thing.
Take, for example, the first steps outside of college. I graduated college in May, walking straight into training for doing college ministry. Now I've been on the journey of gathering supporters to be able to start working with students face to face, one fumbling artist to another.
Steps have been taken to recieve a studio in Philadelphia, a haven where I can work on art and exchange ideas... a place where my creative flower box can bloom in whatever direction it so chooses. Lynne and I had started tearing old, retro wooden accents from the walls in the studio on Thursday; another beginning. It's so exciting and so refreshing to start working on the room, to get it all nice and cleaned up, so we can get in there and start making art again.
If you asked me what I was going to do with my life about a year ago, I would have never dreamed this is where I would be.
In the season of Autumn, when things die or either go into hibernation, so many things have been brought to life. So many new things are cropping up to create an interesting paradox of newness in the midst of Fall. One of these days, I ought to conjure up some kind of visual representation of this, since the theme of life in the midst of death seems to keep coming up.
One of the things that has developed in this season of newness is definitely something I wasn't looking for. It caught me by suprise, and honestly it scared me: his name is Scott.
While I make no angle to be overtly girly or dramatic, there's something that has to be said about this new moment in my life. There are so many new things going on right now, that being in a relationship became one of the last things I even really wanted to happen. Nevermind the fact that, after training, I gave that very desire over to the Lord and pushed it to a quiet corner in my mind. I didn't want the distraction, I didn't want to deal with it. It was the last thing I needed.
God had something else in mind, it seems.
When I first met Scott, a scant three months ago, I seriously wanted little to do with him. Not in a mean, snobbish sort of way; but in the kind of way in which there was just so much coming at me at once that I was just too busy to make a new friend from Jersey. However, like I said, God had something else in mind. I would love to go into novel-esque detail about the story, but I don't feel as though this Blog is the place to do such things. Although I do enjoy the fact that he presented his case to me by starting out with, "I have a friend that came to me for advice about a girl..."
Adorably transparent, and I wouldn't have Scott any other way.
I appreciate the way the Lord worked it out, since it only proves that once you let God handle things and open your hands instead of clinging so tightly to the way you think things ought to be, it really is better. If I remained white-knuckled about fighting Him on this, nothing would have come of it. It teaches me a few things about how often I actually resist something God may be working out... it shows me for the jagged rock in the middle of the river that I really can be, pressing against the flow with all my might. Could it be that, because I haven't been in a relationship before, that the Lord wants to teach me something in the midst of all the other new things He wants to teach me? God can do anything He wants to.... and if He's the kind of God that knows what we can and cannot handle, then I suppose I can trust Him this time too.
God is central, and I need to remember that.
"Spinning around and around
Until my left was my right and up became down.
With just one look you knocked me off of my feet.
So unable to speak. Oh how you made me weak." - Mae, Ready & Waiting to Fall
I must be crazy.
More than once will we take our first steps and our first words.
First steps into a new period in our lives, or the first words we exchange with a new friend. As obvious as it may seem, those 'firsts' can certainly be only the beginning for something bigger, even bigger than we initially thought when it first started. One thing always leads to another thing.
Take, for example, the first steps outside of college. I graduated college in May, walking straight into training for doing college ministry. Now I've been on the journey of gathering supporters to be able to start working with students face to face, one fumbling artist to another.
Steps have been taken to recieve a studio in Philadelphia, a haven where I can work on art and exchange ideas... a place where my creative flower box can bloom in whatever direction it so chooses. Lynne and I had started tearing old, retro wooden accents from the walls in the studio on Thursday; another beginning. It's so exciting and so refreshing to start working on the room, to get it all nice and cleaned up, so we can get in there and start making art again.
If you asked me what I was going to do with my life about a year ago, I would have never dreamed this is where I would be.
In the season of Autumn, when things die or either go into hibernation, so many things have been brought to life. So many new things are cropping up to create an interesting paradox of newness in the midst of Fall. One of these days, I ought to conjure up some kind of visual representation of this, since the theme of life in the midst of death seems to keep coming up.
One of the things that has developed in this season of newness is definitely something I wasn't looking for. It caught me by suprise, and honestly it scared me: his name is Scott.
While I make no angle to be overtly girly or dramatic, there's something that has to be said about this new moment in my life. There are so many new things going on right now, that being in a relationship became one of the last things I even really wanted to happen. Nevermind the fact that, after training, I gave that very desire over to the Lord and pushed it to a quiet corner in my mind. I didn't want the distraction, I didn't want to deal with it. It was the last thing I needed.
God had something else in mind, it seems.
When I first met Scott, a scant three months ago, I seriously wanted little to do with him. Not in a mean, snobbish sort of way; but in the kind of way in which there was just so much coming at me at once that I was just too busy to make a new friend from Jersey. However, like I said, God had something else in mind. I would love to go into novel-esque detail about the story, but I don't feel as though this Blog is the place to do such things. Although I do enjoy the fact that he presented his case to me by starting out with, "I have a friend that came to me for advice about a girl..."
Adorably transparent, and I wouldn't have Scott any other way.
I appreciate the way the Lord worked it out, since it only proves that once you let God handle things and open your hands instead of clinging so tightly to the way you think things ought to be, it really is better. If I remained white-knuckled about fighting Him on this, nothing would have come of it. It teaches me a few things about how often I actually resist something God may be working out... it shows me for the jagged rock in the middle of the river that I really can be, pressing against the flow with all my might. Could it be that, because I haven't been in a relationship before, that the Lord wants to teach me something in the midst of all the other new things He wants to teach me? God can do anything He wants to.... and if He's the kind of God that knows what we can and cannot handle, then I suppose I can trust Him this time too.
God is central, and I need to remember that.
"Spinning around and around
Until my left was my right and up became down.
With just one look you knocked me off of my feet.
So unable to speak. Oh how you made me weak." - Mae, Ready & Waiting to Fall
I must be crazy.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Butterflies like to stay in my stomach.
Warning: This post will be heavy on the images!
I realize it's been a while since I mentioned the exhibition that I somehow managed to get a piece in... About a week ago was the opening, and of course I went to it. God bless my dad for driving all the way to DC and back again.
The closer and closer that we got to the gallery, the more anxious I got. You know that feeling.. when your chest tightens and it feels like there is a dozen butterflies trying to find a way out of your stomach. That's how I felt most of the time I was there, although it started to ease once I got to talking to some people. I couldn't help but keep thinking in the back of my head, "Wow, all these other artists are so
good. What am I doing here??" The echoes of that are still in my ears.
I got to meet three of the jurors, and found out that there were about 100 + applicants, 28 of which got into the show. I don't know how I got in there. One of them named Peggy seemed interested in me and she thinks that I should join the Washington Printmakers' Emerging Artists group that just got started. Yikes! The scary thing about that is just that I don't know how often I'm really going to be able to make prints anymore. I want to (I really, really do), I just don't know how that will work out with everything else that's going on in my life at the moment. Things are just.. wow crazy.
I also got to meet some other artists (some not from the show). Another man named Ted was interested in seeing more of my work..
Of course, all of the people I got contact information for (about 5?) I need to email yet... This past week was just all over the board with things to do.
In other news... I went over to the studio Saturday and took pictures of the space. I'm so excited about it, and to be honest I can't wait to start doing stuff again. When I have space to do work, I will make work. At home, I don't have space, so I haven't really been working on the pieces that I started. I'm ready to pop; there are so many ideas in my head rattling around, waiting to get out... sketching would probably help, but.... well. My habit with sketching is just toliet water. Anyway, here are some photos:
I realize it's been a while since I mentioned the exhibition that I somehow managed to get a piece in... About a week ago was the opening, and of course I went to it. God bless my dad for driving all the way to DC and back again.The closer and closer that we got to the gallery, the more anxious I got. You know that feeling.. when your chest tightens and it feels like there is a dozen butterflies trying to find a way out of your stomach. That's how I felt most of the time I was there, although it started to ease once I got to talking to some people. I couldn't help but keep thinking in the back of my head, "Wow, all these other artists are so
good. What am I doing here??" The echoes of that are still in my ears.I got to meet three of the jurors, and found out that there were about 100 + applicants, 28 of which got into the show. I don't know how I got in there. One of them named Peggy seemed interested in me and she thinks that I should join the Washington Printmakers' Emerging Artists group that just got started. Yikes! The scary thing about that is just that I don't know how often I'm really going to be able to make prints anymore. I want to (I really, really do), I just don't know how that will work out with everything else that's going on in my life at the moment. Things are just.. wow crazy.
I also got to meet some other artists (some not from the show). Another man named Ted was interested in seeing more of my work..
Of course, all of the people I got contact information for (about 5?) I need to email yet... This past week was just all over the board with things to do.In other news... I went over to the studio Saturday and took pictures of the space. I'm so excited about it, and to be honest I can't wait to start doing stuff again. When I have space to do work, I will make work. At home, I don't have space, so I haven't really been working on the pieces that I started. I'm ready to pop; there are so many ideas in my head rattling around, waiting to get out... sketching would probably help, but.... well. My habit with sketching is just toliet water. Anyway, here are some photos:
Monday, October 16, 2006
From the other blog..
I thought that I would add this here, even though I'm just cross-posting from my other blog (weeklything.blogspot.com).
Psalm 47:1,2
Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy. How awesome is the LORD Most High, the great King over all the earth!
Romans 12:1,2
…I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
Hey everyone-
How’s it going? I hope that this week went well for all of you, or if nothing else that you were able to see God’s goodness throughout the week.
This past week I’ve been reading Romans (yes, again; it’s my favorite), and also thinking a lot about the nature of our salvation. Think about it. Regardless of if you grew up in church or not, you and I are saved not by our own merit but by something far bigger than that. God’s grace, as the song goes, is amazing. It’s incomparable with any sense of grace that we have here on earth.
Yesterday, the 15th, was the day that God implemented that grace to save me six years ago. I for one did not grow up in a Christian household, and didn’t really grow up going to church either. Romans 5:10 mentions that we were God’s enemies before knowing Him, while Romans 8:7 mentions that the sinful mind is hostile to God. It’s interesting to think about because I was one of those kids that rarely would do anything “wrong” on the outside: I obeyed my parents, I did my homework, I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t hurt people intentionally… All around good, right? And yet, Scripture says clearly that before I knew Christ, I was an enemy of God. I’d say that’s about right. If nothing else, it got to the point in my life that anything to do with Christianity was trite idiocy (or arrogance) and I hated it. I hated the Christian God and wanted nothing to do with Him. I didn’t have a problem with there being a “god” whatever it was, but Yahweh? Please, I wanted none of it. Not just that, but the garbage that went on inside could not be compared to any outward misdemeanors I may have done. So, yes, I was an enemy of the LORD.
Yet, here I am now, loving God and just floored at the fact that He reached down and extended His salvation to me six years ago. And it’s all to Him that I have faith and a desire to write these Weekly Things every week. It’s to Him that everything in my life has changed since I was in High School… it’s to Him that any one of us have the faith we have, and it’s to Him that we were saved at all. Praises be to God!
The verse that I pin-point as the one that finally broke the camel’s back was this:
Matthew 16:24-25, “If anyone would come after me [Jesus], he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”
So I ask you to ponder these questions with me… Do we recall the days before we knew Christ, and praise Him for what He’s done? Have I really shouldered my cross, denying myself for Him? Have I really lost my old life to have new life?
Praise the Lord for your salvation, not just today but every day.
I pray that each of us would be humbled by how amazing God’s grace really, truly is, and praise Him continually for salvation. I also pray that we extend that awe with others, sharing Christ with those who are enemies of God so that they can know God, and be saved in just the same way as we were. I ask that the Holy Spirit would continually be working in our hearts to protect us from temptation and sin, and that He would also work in us the likeness of Christ. I pray that our lives would not be our own, but His. May we all praise the Lord, always, for everything that He does.
In love and in Him,
Your sister,
Yvonne
P.S. I wanted to include this snippet… It’s from a local band called Kurios, and the name of the song is ‘Sing, Fall Down.’ I absolutely love it.
“One day You'll come again with open arms to hold me.
I'll see You face to face and bow before Your glory.
With all my strength, with all my heart,
with all I am my soul cries out.
With all of me I lift my voice to worship You.”
“We sing. We fall down. We worship You. We sing. We fall down.”
Psalm 47:1,2
Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy. How awesome is the LORD Most High, the great King over all the earth!
Romans 12:1,2
…I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
Hey everyone-
How’s it going? I hope that this week went well for all of you, or if nothing else that you were able to see God’s goodness throughout the week.
This past week I’ve been reading Romans (yes, again; it’s my favorite), and also thinking a lot about the nature of our salvation. Think about it. Regardless of if you grew up in church or not, you and I are saved not by our own merit but by something far bigger than that. God’s grace, as the song goes, is amazing. It’s incomparable with any sense of grace that we have here on earth.
Yesterday, the 15th, was the day that God implemented that grace to save me six years ago. I for one did not grow up in a Christian household, and didn’t really grow up going to church either. Romans 5:10 mentions that we were God’s enemies before knowing Him, while Romans 8:7 mentions that the sinful mind is hostile to God. It’s interesting to think about because I was one of those kids that rarely would do anything “wrong” on the outside: I obeyed my parents, I did my homework, I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t hurt people intentionally… All around good, right? And yet, Scripture says clearly that before I knew Christ, I was an enemy of God. I’d say that’s about right. If nothing else, it got to the point in my life that anything to do with Christianity was trite idiocy (or arrogance) and I hated it. I hated the Christian God and wanted nothing to do with Him. I didn’t have a problem with there being a “god” whatever it was, but Yahweh? Please, I wanted none of it. Not just that, but the garbage that went on inside could not be compared to any outward misdemeanors I may have done. So, yes, I was an enemy of the LORD.
Yet, here I am now, loving God and just floored at the fact that He reached down and extended His salvation to me six years ago. And it’s all to Him that I have faith and a desire to write these Weekly Things every week. It’s to Him that everything in my life has changed since I was in High School… it’s to Him that any one of us have the faith we have, and it’s to Him that we were saved at all. Praises be to God!
The verse that I pin-point as the one that finally broke the camel’s back was this:
Matthew 16:24-25, “If anyone would come after me [Jesus], he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”
So I ask you to ponder these questions with me… Do we recall the days before we knew Christ, and praise Him for what He’s done? Have I really shouldered my cross, denying myself for Him? Have I really lost my old life to have new life?
Praise the Lord for your salvation, not just today but every day.
I pray that each of us would be humbled by how amazing God’s grace really, truly is, and praise Him continually for salvation. I also pray that we extend that awe with others, sharing Christ with those who are enemies of God so that they can know God, and be saved in just the same way as we were. I ask that the Holy Spirit would continually be working in our hearts to protect us from temptation and sin, and that He would also work in us the likeness of Christ. I pray that our lives would not be our own, but His. May we all praise the Lord, always, for everything that He does.
In love and in Him,
Your sister,
Yvonne
P.S. I wanted to include this snippet… It’s from a local band called Kurios, and the name of the song is ‘Sing, Fall Down.’ I absolutely love it.
“One day You'll come again with open arms to hold me.
I'll see You face to face and bow before Your glory.
With all my strength, with all my heart,
with all I am my soul cries out.
With all of me I lift my voice to worship You.”
“We sing. We fall down. We worship You. We sing. We fall down.”
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Random Days
So the past two days have had their share of random and/or awkward moments. Let them share them with you. Then art.
Random: Yesterday morning, I caught a hawk (or a Peregrin Falcon) swoop in on a squirrel in a tree... and miss.
Random: I went to go buy shoes at Army Navy yesterday, and parked nearby a group of guys who were standing around with the hood of their car up. They asked me if I had jumper cables, and I don't... They asked a few more people if they had cables, but nobody seemed to have cables for these Peurto Rican men. So I offered to drive someone up to PepBoys, which was just right up the street.
I know what some of you may be thinking at this point, "OMG DON'T EVER ASK A STANGER TO GET IN YOUR CAR IF YOU'RE A WOMAN." ... Relax. It's not like they were hitchhikers.
So anyway, the lucky volunteer was Joel, and when he got in the car I found out that they were from Peurto Rico. Had some random chat in the car while going up.. He offered to give me gas money, but I said it was cool. I mean, seriously, they needed some help and it seemed like no one was going to help them. I didn't want anything back.
We got up to PepBoys and it took forever to find the jumper cables because they are no longer called jumper cables; oh no, they're called Booster Cables. Grabbed them and headed out. Proceeded to miss my turn and feel like a tool in my old stomping grounds.
He decided to ask me if I was single or married or whatever. Not to intrude. I said of course that I was single, smirking on the inside and wishing I didn't answer the question at all. But, anyway, as I was beginning to pull back into Army Navy, he asked me for my number.
Dude.
C'mon.
I kind of laughed and suggested an email instead. I doubt he'll email me; I'd be shocked if he did, and I kind of hope he doesn't.
Random: After I got gas at Hess this morning, my van (GiGi) got assaulted by one of those metal-horse-things that are in front of gas pumps.
I have no idea what they're called. But here's the story: as I was about to pull out from the pump, a guy in a big blue truck was trying to get around a Semi near me, so I decided, "Oh okay I'll get out of his way, and be nice so he can get by." Good idea, right? So has I begin to turn to get out of the way, I hear this horrid crunching sound and immediately realized what had happened. Apparently I was well enough out of the way, because the old man in the big blue truck went on through. I will affectionately call the large dent Susie.
Awkward: So later this morning I went to the doctor to see what's up with my back. To get you up to speed, I've always had back pain to some degree or another, so this is nothing new. I usually ignore it, and this wouldn't be any different but I decided, "I want to go to a chiropractor, maybe the doctor can tell me what to do." Uh, well, first of all he suggested I get my back X-rayed and second of all he didn't even say anything about going to a chiropractor. So I go to get myself X-rayed. I've only had two other X-rays in my life: 1. Pnemonia, 4yrs old. 2. Wrist was hurting because I'd fallen while attempting to snowboard, but there was nothing wrong. That was two years ago.
Of course, I forgot that getting an X-ray meant wearing one of those hospital gowns. Oh joy. So not only was I cranky from my car earlier this morning, I then had to deal with being practically naked with little more than a drafty sheet between myself and the rest of the world. Great.
One of the three X-ray people was a male student learning how to use the equipment.
But I survived. Awkwardly. At first, I was cool on the outside and horrified on the inside. Then I just became increasingly uncomfortable. Like a lot of people, hospitals make me a little edgey. I'm not scared to be in them, just nervous, since the only time I've ever been admitted to the hospital was when I had pneumonia when I was four. The last X-ray was at a family practice. But I survived and all is well with the world.
I hope I can have copies of my X-rays. That would be totally sweet and well worth the awkward-ness.
Anyway. Art update. I finally got in to get my plexiglas inked up and printed once. Woohoo!
The photo is extremely bad, but it's laying on a couch and there's really no way for me to pin it up somewhere. Silly me didn't think to take a picture of it while it was in the printing studio.
I would love to do more prints but alas, this is the only one that there will be. I'm still trying to think of a title with all the different things that go into it.
And this is the PlexiGlas all inked up....
And so the process continues. There's a lot more that I need to do with it, yet... like make the box and figure out how I want to do the lighting. I'm not sure quite yet how I want it to look.. There are some blue elements that I want to add, but I don't know which direction I want to go with it. We shall see.
There's not much else to update on, at least nothing I want everyone and their mom to know. Take that.
-Y
Random: Yesterday morning, I caught a hawk (or a Peregrin Falcon) swoop in on a squirrel in a tree... and miss.
Random: I went to go buy shoes at Army Navy yesterday, and parked nearby a group of guys who were standing around with the hood of their car up. They asked me if I had jumper cables, and I don't... They asked a few more people if they had cables, but nobody seemed to have cables for these Peurto Rican men. So I offered to drive someone up to PepBoys, which was just right up the street.
I know what some of you may be thinking at this point, "OMG DON'T EVER ASK A STANGER TO GET IN YOUR CAR IF YOU'RE A WOMAN." ... Relax. It's not like they were hitchhikers.
So anyway, the lucky volunteer was Joel, and when he got in the car I found out that they were from Peurto Rico. Had some random chat in the car while going up.. He offered to give me gas money, but I said it was cool. I mean, seriously, they needed some help and it seemed like no one was going to help them. I didn't want anything back.
We got up to PepBoys and it took forever to find the jumper cables because they are no longer called jumper cables; oh no, they're called Booster Cables. Grabbed them and headed out. Proceeded to miss my turn and feel like a tool in my old stomping grounds.
He decided to ask me if I was single or married or whatever. Not to intrude. I said of course that I was single, smirking on the inside and wishing I didn't answer the question at all. But, anyway, as I was beginning to pull back into Army Navy, he asked me for my number.
Dude.
C'mon.
I kind of laughed and suggested an email instead. I doubt he'll email me; I'd be shocked if he did, and I kind of hope he doesn't.
Random: After I got gas at Hess this morning, my van (GiGi) got assaulted by one of those metal-horse-things that are in front of gas pumps.
I have no idea what they're called. But here's the story: as I was about to pull out from the pump, a guy in a big blue truck was trying to get around a Semi near me, so I decided, "Oh okay I'll get out of his way, and be nice so he can get by." Good idea, right? So has I begin to turn to get out of the way, I hear this horrid crunching sound and immediately realized what had happened. Apparently I was well enough out of the way, because the old man in the big blue truck went on through. I will affectionately call the large dent Susie.Awkward: So later this morning I went to the doctor to see what's up with my back. To get you up to speed, I've always had back pain to some degree or another, so this is nothing new. I usually ignore it, and this wouldn't be any different but I decided, "I want to go to a chiropractor, maybe the doctor can tell me what to do." Uh, well, first of all he suggested I get my back X-rayed and second of all he didn't even say anything about going to a chiropractor. So I go to get myself X-rayed. I've only had two other X-rays in my life: 1. Pnemonia, 4yrs old. 2. Wrist was hurting because I'd fallen while attempting to snowboard, but there was nothing wrong. That was two years ago.
Of course, I forgot that getting an X-ray meant wearing one of those hospital gowns. Oh joy. So not only was I cranky from my car earlier this morning, I then had to deal with being practically naked with little more than a drafty sheet between myself and the rest of the world. Great.
One of the three X-ray people was a male student learning how to use the equipment.
But I survived. Awkwardly. At first, I was cool on the outside and horrified on the inside. Then I just became increasingly uncomfortable. Like a lot of people, hospitals make me a little edgey. I'm not scared to be in them, just nervous, since the only time I've ever been admitted to the hospital was when I had pneumonia when I was four. The last X-ray was at a family practice. But I survived and all is well with the world.
I hope I can have copies of my X-rays. That would be totally sweet and well worth the awkward-ness.
Anyway. Art update. I finally got in to get my plexiglas inked up and printed once. Woohoo!
The photo is extremely bad, but it's laying on a couch and there's really no way for me to pin it up somewhere. Silly me didn't think to take a picture of it while it was in the printing studio.I would love to do more prints but alas, this is the only one that there will be. I'm still trying to think of a title with all the different things that go into it.
And this is the PlexiGlas all inked up....
And so the process continues. There's a lot more that I need to do with it, yet... like make the box and figure out how I want to do the lighting. I'm not sure quite yet how I want it to look.. There are some blue elements that I want to add, but I don't know which direction I want to go with it. We shall see.
There's not much else to update on, at least nothing I want everyone and their mom to know. Take that.
-Y
Friday, October 06, 2006
I just woke up...
Normally I don't post anything about the weird dreams I have, but I thought this one was warranted particular attention because it was so odd.
My friend Barbara and I were hanging out in a city that we kept saying was Pittsburgh, but it definitely was not Pittsburgh... I don't know what we were doing there, but I think we were driving around for a while and then we decided to crash in an apartment because it was starting to get stormy. Aparently, Barbara lived in this tiny apartment with like just two bedrooms and nothing else. Our mattresses were on the floor, and it must have been hot because all I had was a sheet to cover me.
I woke up early in the morning for some reason and went to get a drink of water and look out the front door. Now, mind you, the apartment was on the third floor and it had a front door. There was a fire-escape sort of deal to get in or something... but that wasn't the odd thing. The odd thing was that the city had flooded up to two or three stories. Of course I'm suprised, shocked, and feeling sick all at the same time but I remained calm... I went to Barbara's room just as she was waking up and she asked me how I was that morning. Then I told her to look outside.
Then we ended up on like a porch or something, and the neighbors in the complex were also on their porches. They were college-aged. Barbara and I, and everyone else, kept commenting how we couldn't believe what happened over night while peering at the water that came up to the edge of the porch. Then, suddenly, Barbara jumped in. I freaked out because she sank like a rock and it was two-three stories of water. (so that's what, 20-30 ft deep?)
She comes back up after a while... and then all of us are intrigued and decide to have a little fun since there was nothing else we could do. I jumped in to reach the bottom--of course, I did--and so did a handful of other people. It turned into a contest to see who could do it fastest.
I climbed up out of the water and sat down with a random group of people and I looked over and somehow there was a highway nearby that was just above the water, and a sidewalk. Suddenly my pastor comes up behind all of us and asks for my help in doing something. He seemed so insistant about it, I went with him. We came out onto the sidewalk and onto a little grassy area that had a tree in it.. somehow it didn't get flooded, and it had a road that lead back out to the highway.
He was pointing to the tree, decimated and looking very worse for wear, and held up a garbage bag saying he was doing an AOK (act of kindness) for a neighbor of his who loved birds. In the tree, there were all kinds of dead birds stuck to the branches. One of them looked like an owl, and it was so large I thought it was a child at first. For the most part, they had dried up, and as we got to work pulling the birds off of the tree so his friend wouldn't see them, we talked about what could have happened to them. I was really hesitant at first, but eventually got to work.
At some point, I mentioned that it was a shame we were getting rid of them all and my pastor looked at me funny and asked why. I explained that I tend to have birds in my art, and wanted to use the birds as references. He didn't understand, so I explained again, and he still didn't understand what I was saying. He said it didn't make any sense. Then someone else came along (I think it may have been my friend Jake) and started helping us. We were all quiet, and I was thinking about how I needed to call my parents to tell them I was okay.
Then I woke up.
I don't know what's weirder... that the city flooded like that, or that we were pulling dead birds out of a tree and I wanted to keep them.
-Y
My friend Barbara and I were hanging out in a city that we kept saying was Pittsburgh, but it definitely was not Pittsburgh... I don't know what we were doing there, but I think we were driving around for a while and then we decided to crash in an apartment because it was starting to get stormy. Aparently, Barbara lived in this tiny apartment with like just two bedrooms and nothing else. Our mattresses were on the floor, and it must have been hot because all I had was a sheet to cover me.
I woke up early in the morning for some reason and went to get a drink of water and look out the front door. Now, mind you, the apartment was on the third floor and it had a front door. There was a fire-escape sort of deal to get in or something... but that wasn't the odd thing. The odd thing was that the city had flooded up to two or three stories. Of course I'm suprised, shocked, and feeling sick all at the same time but I remained calm... I went to Barbara's room just as she was waking up and she asked me how I was that morning. Then I told her to look outside.
Then we ended up on like a porch or something, and the neighbors in the complex were also on their porches. They were college-aged. Barbara and I, and everyone else, kept commenting how we couldn't believe what happened over night while peering at the water that came up to the edge of the porch. Then, suddenly, Barbara jumped in. I freaked out because she sank like a rock and it was two-three stories of water. (so that's what, 20-30 ft deep?)
She comes back up after a while... and then all of us are intrigued and decide to have a little fun since there was nothing else we could do. I jumped in to reach the bottom--of course, I did--and so did a handful of other people. It turned into a contest to see who could do it fastest.
I climbed up out of the water and sat down with a random group of people and I looked over and somehow there was a highway nearby that was just above the water, and a sidewalk. Suddenly my pastor comes up behind all of us and asks for my help in doing something. He seemed so insistant about it, I went with him. We came out onto the sidewalk and onto a little grassy area that had a tree in it.. somehow it didn't get flooded, and it had a road that lead back out to the highway.
He was pointing to the tree, decimated and looking very worse for wear, and held up a garbage bag saying he was doing an AOK (act of kindness) for a neighbor of his who loved birds. In the tree, there were all kinds of dead birds stuck to the branches. One of them looked like an owl, and it was so large I thought it was a child at first. For the most part, they had dried up, and as we got to work pulling the birds off of the tree so his friend wouldn't see them, we talked about what could have happened to them. I was really hesitant at first, but eventually got to work.
At some point, I mentioned that it was a shame we were getting rid of them all and my pastor looked at me funny and asked why. I explained that I tend to have birds in my art, and wanted to use the birds as references. He didn't understand, so I explained again, and he still didn't understand what I was saying. He said it didn't make any sense. Then someone else came along (I think it may have been my friend Jake) and started helping us. We were all quiet, and I was thinking about how I needed to call my parents to tell them I was okay.
Then I woke up.
I don't know what's weirder... that the city flooded like that, or that we were pulling dead birds out of a tree and I wanted to keep them.
-Y
Monday, October 02, 2006
Progression
So, here are some photos of what's been going down with the projects. The photos are kind of not so good, but I figured they didn't need to be nice while the projects are in-the-making.
This one to the left I've been waiting to work on more for a while, since I didn't have enough material to do the next step. That, and I've been waiting to go to KU to use the printmaking studio... However, as I was on campus, I bought some mylar sheets to continue the project.
Words, words, and more words to come. Here's a tip, kids, that I had to learn the hard way: Do not roll off a rubber band from a tube of mylar sheets, because you will slice your hand. My thumb got a nasty "paper" cut from the mylar... I was going to take a photo of it, but a) figured no one would want to see, and b) my camera doesn't do micro. Just know that it was very stingy. Don't get a paper cut from a mylar sheet. It hurt more than a cardboard-paper cut.
Ah. The self portrait piece. ... Well, it's been in this state for a while now and I haven't touched it again yet. This is partly because I'd been waiting for the paint to dry, but also partly because I'm timid in doing what I want to do next. I'm unsure if it's going to look right, but I like the idea so much; well, for the most part. It's still kind of new and weird for me. I'm really excited to be in the studios because then I'll have more vocal input than just my own. That'll be sweet.
The last thing I wanted to share is a piece I'm working on for my dad. Honestly, I'm not taking it too seriously, which I don't know if that's a good thing. The plan is to put a horse figure contour in there using white sand or powder, similiar to my black contour stuff, buuuuuut... Eh. I'm not particularly into this piece, but it's supposed to be a gift. It's kind of more experimental and my dad gets to keep it. It's also kind of just a release to get SOMEthing with color out of my system. I'm just playing with it, more or less, and my dad gets to have the aftermath.
That's all I have. There's a whole lot of ideas floating around in my head and I really need to get around to sketching them out. That whole kinda-sorta idea about making an art object out of my mom's old jewelry case? Yeah, it kind of decided to root itself in my brain and now it won't go away. I keep adding on more thoughts including bits of glass that I recieved from my best friend Heather... which is a whole other story on its own, but basically her car got broken into in front of my house.
I don't know why I keep thinking of that jewelry box now. I'm not a 3D artist, you know (watch me limit myself).
Friday, September 29, 2006
The Itch
So today I had the opportunity to wonder around Ye Olde Kutztowne Universite ... (if you end everything in and 'e,' it makes it look fancy). Good to see some friends, good to see some professors. I managed to run into my friend Amy earlier than expected, so I sauntered into her painting class with her to see what kind of stuff she's been up to this semester.
Abstract, more than it was before.
But now that I've been exposed to people making art, the only thing I wanted to do for the rest of the day was make art. Sadly, I didn't get out of KU until 9ish, got home at 9:30, and I've been buzzing around for the rest of the night wasting my time on the computer and messing with packaging my print to send off to DC. And now I'm in a dilemma, which I've so pointlessly decided to express on my blog. I'm faced with two choices:
a. I want to sleep.
b. I want to make art like woah.
I love that sensation that I get when I just feel the need to make art. It's almost as though all the little art-atoms in my body have come rushing to breach the surface of my skin, desparate to find a way out. At the same time, my day is going to be craaaaaaaaazzzy busy tomorrow... maybe I can find a happy compromise.
I think it's about time to let the art-atoms loose. In the mean time, have a go at my art statement for the DC show:
Abstract, more than it was before.
But now that I've been exposed to people making art, the only thing I wanted to do for the rest of the day was make art. Sadly, I didn't get out of KU until 9ish, got home at 9:30, and I've been buzzing around for the rest of the night wasting my time on the computer and messing with packaging my print to send off to DC. And now I'm in a dilemma, which I've so pointlessly decided to express on my blog. I'm faced with two choices:
a. I want to sleep.
b. I want to make art like woah.
I love that sensation that I get when I just feel the need to make art. It's almost as though all the little art-atoms in my body have come rushing to breach the surface of my skin, desparate to find a way out. At the same time, my day is going to be craaaaaaaaazzzy busy tomorrow... maybe I can find a happy compromise.
I think it's about time to let the art-atoms loose. In the mean time, have a go at my art statement for the DC show:
In Christian tradition, a dove, spotless and without blemish, has been symbolic of the third person of the Trinity: the Holy Spirit. In Heavy, the dove depicted is marred by a dark red stain meant to be indicative of not the Holy Spirit, but the Human Spirit. We are a wounded people, unaware of the many ways in which we are internally afflicted.
The most revered character of a bird is flight. This ability has trigged yearnings in humans throughout history; flight may well be the epitome of physical as well as spiritual freedom. We are grieved by the handicap of a bird that can’t fly, knowing well that the longing for freedom is as deeply ingrained within us as it is in the bird. The burdens within the human spirit are as heavy as stones to a bird -- we are both desperate to be free of our restraints. Yet there is little we can do to remove these burdens when left to our own devices. We can try to hide them. We can pretend they don’t exist. They still remain all the same.
With these wounds and burdens, flight is hindered; life is not the way it is meant to be. The only relief is to go to one who is greater. It is well worth the struggle to reach that source.
That's for all of y'all who won't be able to make it to the show... It's opening on the 23rd of October, and lasting until December 15th! I'm so excited!
The most revered character of a bird is flight. This ability has trigged yearnings in humans throughout history; flight may well be the epitome of physical as well as spiritual freedom. We are grieved by the handicap of a bird that can’t fly, knowing well that the longing for freedom is as deeply ingrained within us as it is in the bird. The burdens within the human spirit are as heavy as stones to a bird -- we are both desperate to be free of our restraints. Yet there is little we can do to remove these burdens when left to our own devices. We can try to hide them. We can pretend they don’t exist. They still remain all the same.
With these wounds and burdens, flight is hindered; life is not the way it is meant to be. The only relief is to go to one who is greater. It is well worth the struggle to reach that source.
That's for all of y'all who won't be able to make it to the show... It's opening on the 23rd of October, and lasting until December 15th! I'm so excited!
Monday, September 25, 2006
Exposing what's beneath
So this weekend I was in Philadelphia to go to the Church Studios to meet up with the artists there and to join up with the two other candidate artists for studio space. I was going down to choose which space I wanted (yeeeeeeeessss), and also meet the other two candidates: Scott and Lynne. I wasn't expecting Lynne, Rubens' wife, to be one of the artists! That was a delightful surprise, and even better is that she and I will be sharing the big room, which is beautiful. That space is awesome. Sharing the space with Lynne will be awesome... I'm pretty pumped about that; although really, I was pumped about the opportunity to have a studio with the Church since day one. Things are falling into place, but there are quite a few things I have to remind myself of... first and foremost is that the space is not really MY space. It's God's space, lent to a church, who is lending it to me. I think that up to this point I haven't entirely been focused on that fact, and I'll probably lapse now and then.... hopefully not that often.
Today I went to Olivet for a service and later hung around while folks went through the Studios for the Fairmont Arts Crawl. All I really did was sit around and socialize; I wanted to spend some time with the artists I'll be coming in to join... as if to get used to the idea. I'm not sure if it has entirely sunk in that I will have a studio space to make my art in. It probably hasn't sunk in just because I haven't moved yet. I never really picked up the phrase 'chomping at the bit' when it came to the eager desire to do something, but friends let me tell you, I am chomping the bit and biting my tongue in my want to move to Philly. But, God is having me wait... which in some ways is kind of annoying, but I know that He knows what's good for me. I know He has a purpose in having me wait.
Today on my ride back, I got to thinking about a lot of things. Right before I left the Studios, Rubens and I got to talking about his dad and my mom--loved ones of ours who have passed away--and how it's reflected in our creative process. I hadn't really thought about that before... not too in depth. I said to him that "I don't want to go there," in regards to why I think I don't put much thought into how my mother's passing impacts my art. It probably does in a number of ways and I just don't realize it. A few of my poems have reflected the loss for sure,intentionally. I don't talk about my mother's death often, probably out of an interest to not focus on it. I went through the phase of recovering quickly and later grieving heavily, so it's not like that. I guess it's hard for me to find people who relate, so I just don't bring it up.
At any rate, there's only one piece that I know had the intention of outletting the loss, but I'm not fully pleased by the results. The figure in the background of the second half is just... so... well, it's just not painted well at all. The hands look fine, but the bust looks shabby. If I could do away with that part of it altogether, I think it would look much better. Maybe I'll figure out a way to do that. But I digress.
While I was driving home I was trying to think of the different things that make me think of my mom.. and what could be done with them artistically. But here's a few things...
-Songs: Que Sara Sara, which she always sung; Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland style since we always watched the Wizard of Oz together; Stairway to Heaven by Led Zepplin; Crash and Burn by Savage Garden because that was the first song I heard the morning afterward.
-Cicadas... Trains... Horses... many of the things that remind me of Texas remind me of my mother.
-Spearmint Gum.. which really reminds me of a man named Dean who was a deacon at the Lutheren church she went to, but I remember clear as day walking out of church with mom and Dean asking if I would like a piece of gum.
-The Wizard of Oz and Judy Garland
-Puffy clouds: my mother made a painting of a blue sky with some puffy clouds. My grandmother sent me the painting, so I own it. My mom actually did a little bit of art herself, and I have some if it because her mother sent it to me...
I wish I knew more about mom than I do. Any time a wave of quiet grief comes to me, it's because I miss her, but it's also because I grieve missing the opportunity to get to know her better.
I have this old jewelry box that she used to own... also sent to me by my grandmother. As I was driving, I thought of a few art ideas; one that I'd thought of before was utilizing the different things that I have of her's... Kind of like artifacts. But then it would become more of an installation, and that's something totally outside of my realm. It would be weird, but a lot of the things sent to me I just don't know what to do with. I wonder if it would just be eerie to do an installation of the belongings of a passed loved one, anyway.
But, anyhow, this one idea came to me to do something with the jewelry box and this thing I've been wanting to do with making light boxes. I haven't quite figured it out of course. Part of me would want to take out all the drawers of the jewelry box and figure out how to make tiny light boxes.. which in all reality, I don't think it would be that hard. ... The hard one is figuring out how to keep the drawers intact and make a lightbox out of the drawers themselves, able to still slide in and out of the case. Wouldn't know how to do that.
Wouldn't know what imagery I'd use.
Would it be too corney? Too predictable? Is it something worth pursuing?
I can only shrug my shoulders; I don't know. The idea of doing something intentional like that kind of scares me, honestly. It's still beneath all of my layers and it's like I don't want anyone to see it; but at the same time I want it out.
-Y
Today I went to Olivet for a service and later hung around while folks went through the Studios for the Fairmont Arts Crawl. All I really did was sit around and socialize; I wanted to spend some time with the artists I'll be coming in to join... as if to get used to the idea. I'm not sure if it has entirely sunk in that I will have a studio space to make my art in. It probably hasn't sunk in just because I haven't moved yet. I never really picked up the phrase 'chomping at the bit' when it came to the eager desire to do something, but friends let me tell you, I am chomping the bit and biting my tongue in my want to move to Philly. But, God is having me wait... which in some ways is kind of annoying, but I know that He knows what's good for me. I know He has a purpose in having me wait.
Today on my ride back, I got to thinking about a lot of things. Right before I left the Studios, Rubens and I got to talking about his dad and my mom--loved ones of ours who have passed away--and how it's reflected in our creative process. I hadn't really thought about that before... not too in depth. I said to him that "I don't want to go there," in regards to why I think I don't put much thought into how my mother's passing impacts my art. It probably does in a number of ways and I just don't realize it. A few of my poems have reflected the loss for sure,intentionally. I don't talk about my mother's death often, probably out of an interest to not focus on it. I went through the phase of recovering quickly and later grieving heavily, so it's not like that. I guess it's hard for me to find people who relate, so I just don't bring it up.
At any rate, there's only one piece that I know had the intention of outletting the loss, but I'm not fully pleased by the results. The figure in the background of the second half is just... so... well, it's just not painted well at all. The hands look fine, but the bust looks shabby. If I could do away with that part of it altogether, I think it would look much better. Maybe I'll figure out a way to do that. But I digress.
While I was driving home I was trying to think of the different things that make me think of my mom.. and what could be done with them artistically. But here's a few things...
-Songs: Que Sara Sara, which she always sung; Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland style since we always watched the Wizard of Oz together; Stairway to Heaven by Led Zepplin; Crash and Burn by Savage Garden because that was the first song I heard the morning afterward.
-Cicadas... Trains... Horses... many of the things that remind me of Texas remind me of my mother.
-Spearmint Gum.. which really reminds me of a man named Dean who was a deacon at the Lutheren church she went to, but I remember clear as day walking out of church with mom and Dean asking if I would like a piece of gum.
-The Wizard of Oz and Judy Garland
-Puffy clouds: my mother made a painting of a blue sky with some puffy clouds. My grandmother sent me the painting, so I own it. My mom actually did a little bit of art herself, and I have some if it because her mother sent it to me...
I wish I knew more about mom than I do. Any time a wave of quiet grief comes to me, it's because I miss her, but it's also because I grieve missing the opportunity to get to know her better.
I have this old jewelry box that she used to own... also sent to me by my grandmother. As I was driving, I thought of a few art ideas; one that I'd thought of before was utilizing the different things that I have of her's... Kind of like artifacts. But then it would become more of an installation, and that's something totally outside of my realm. It would be weird, but a lot of the things sent to me I just don't know what to do with. I wonder if it would just be eerie to do an installation of the belongings of a passed loved one, anyway.
But, anyhow, this one idea came to me to do something with the jewelry box and this thing I've been wanting to do with making light boxes. I haven't quite figured it out of course. Part of me would want to take out all the drawers of the jewelry box and figure out how to make tiny light boxes.. which in all reality, I don't think it would be that hard. ... The hard one is figuring out how to keep the drawers intact and make a lightbox out of the drawers themselves, able to still slide in and out of the case. Wouldn't know how to do that.
Wouldn't know what imagery I'd use.
Would it be too corney? Too predictable? Is it something worth pursuing?
I can only shrug my shoulders; I don't know. The idea of doing something intentional like that kind of scares me, honestly. It's still beneath all of my layers and it's like I don't want anyone to see it; but at the same time I want it out.
-Y
Friday, September 22, 2006
The most important things in life
"So are you with anyone right now?" He looked over the menu while casually asking the question of whether or not I was currently in a relationship. Why is it that this is one of the first questions a friend asks you when you haven't seen them for a long time?
I answered pretty straightforwardly, smirking a little to myself while perusing through the menu. "Nope."
He pondered my response for a moment, eyebrows knit together in thought but somewhat smirking himself. Then he asked, "Have you ever been with anyone in the time that I've known you?" I've known him for about... six years I guess, possibly seven or eight. We met in high school.
"Nope."
"... " He paused, and the same response seemed to take him aback. He tilted his head and looked at me with a skeptical eye, "...Are you a lesbian?"
"Nope." Answered in much the same way as before but I couldn't help but laugh a little. "I like men quite a lot and my door isn't even able to swing the other way."
It's conversations like these that make me ponder how odd it must seem to some people when you've never really been in a relationship before... especially when someone hasn't seen you for a number of years and your relationship status has remained the same. My friend didn't pursue the issue, which took me by surprise since I would expect someone to then ask why. But no matter.
What amuses me more, however, is that later today another friend of mine that I also haven't seen in three years asked me the exact same question of my relationship status. I wish people would stop asking me this question; I'm tired of answering the same way. But I suppose many people see it as an important thing to ask, and I can give them that.
At any rate, on an unrelated note I've been giving some thought to a hot topic issue that comes up a lot in Christian and non-Christian circles: Church & State. I'll be honest and say right out that I don't know a lot about the history of the whole Church & State thing. I will also say that for a while I figured that the seperation between the two was ridiculous... at least when folks here in America would rant about "God" being found on paper money and the pledge of allegience. I still figure that it's well enough to keep things the way they always have been, since no one is forcing anyone to worship God just by having His name in certain public places. I for one used to omit saying "God" when I was adamantly against God, but I didn't want to take it out of the pledge of allegience; I didn't care about that.
While I know a lot of the Church & State seperation is over the common school house, I'd recently been reading through the Church History book I'm borrowing and how Constantine established the Church as the rule over the State (in so many words).
I was apalled. Some Christians saw it fit to bring Law upon those who were not Christians, to punish and judge them as if they were God. Folks became stagnant or insincere. The name of Jesus was used for political gain, and prominent people in the church sought power more than anything else. Churches would be more extravagant than any other buildings. Although corruption was a danger before, it would seem that the establishment of the Church as the head of the State cast in its stones... nay, I'd say it had cast in its bricks.
On the flip side of things, the major persecutions of the Christians stopped in Roman empire. Christians were free to walk the streets and build their churches. They didn't have to live in fear like they used to.
But still, I'm left wondering that as comfortability was put into place if the temptation of stagnation was as well.
So, as I reevaluate the idea of Church & State and the seperation thereof, I would be more inclined to say that the seperation is a good thing. Then again, anything in history and anything that happens at all is done for a reason; God had His purposes of allowing the combination of the two forces. Perhaps for mercy's sake. Perhaps for something totally other. But you know what, I don't think what this nation needs is the joined forces of Church & State, but instead what we need is persecution. Is it weird for me to say that? Probably. I for one don't like the idea of being pressed on every side and having to choose between renouncing Christ or death; though I'd like to think I know which I would choose in a heartbeat. Maybe Christ would be more real and dear and tangible, and really the only thing that we can cling to for hope if we were given black and white choices. I hear stories and read stories about brothers and sisters overseas and I am humbled. Their faith is so much greater than my own, that they could take a beating and keep on going to the foot of the Cross, keep on speaking the words of the love of Christ and know they could be killed for it. It's amazing, and praises be that God is using them to transform lives.
I pray that He will keep them strong. It'll be great to meet them in the presence of Glory.
I answered pretty straightforwardly, smirking a little to myself while perusing through the menu. "Nope."
He pondered my response for a moment, eyebrows knit together in thought but somewhat smirking himself. Then he asked, "Have you ever been with anyone in the time that I've known you?" I've known him for about... six years I guess, possibly seven or eight. We met in high school.
"Nope."
"... " He paused, and the same response seemed to take him aback. He tilted his head and looked at me with a skeptical eye, "...Are you a lesbian?"
"Nope." Answered in much the same way as before but I couldn't help but laugh a little. "I like men quite a lot and my door isn't even able to swing the other way."
It's conversations like these that make me ponder how odd it must seem to some people when you've never really been in a relationship before... especially when someone hasn't seen you for a number of years and your relationship status has remained the same. My friend didn't pursue the issue, which took me by surprise since I would expect someone to then ask why. But no matter.
What amuses me more, however, is that later today another friend of mine that I also haven't seen in three years asked me the exact same question of my relationship status. I wish people would stop asking me this question; I'm tired of answering the same way. But I suppose many people see it as an important thing to ask, and I can give them that.
At any rate, on an unrelated note I've been giving some thought to a hot topic issue that comes up a lot in Christian and non-Christian circles: Church & State. I'll be honest and say right out that I don't know a lot about the history of the whole Church & State thing. I will also say that for a while I figured that the seperation between the two was ridiculous... at least when folks here in America would rant about "God" being found on paper money and the pledge of allegience. I still figure that it's well enough to keep things the way they always have been, since no one is forcing anyone to worship God just by having His name in certain public places. I for one used to omit saying "God" when I was adamantly against God, but I didn't want to take it out of the pledge of allegience; I didn't care about that.
While I know a lot of the Church & State seperation is over the common school house, I'd recently been reading through the Church History book I'm borrowing and how Constantine established the Church as the rule over the State (in so many words).
I was apalled. Some Christians saw it fit to bring Law upon those who were not Christians, to punish and judge them as if they were God. Folks became stagnant or insincere. The name of Jesus was used for political gain, and prominent people in the church sought power more than anything else. Churches would be more extravagant than any other buildings. Although corruption was a danger before, it would seem that the establishment of the Church as the head of the State cast in its stones... nay, I'd say it had cast in its bricks.
On the flip side of things, the major persecutions of the Christians stopped in Roman empire. Christians were free to walk the streets and build their churches. They didn't have to live in fear like they used to.
But still, I'm left wondering that as comfortability was put into place if the temptation of stagnation was as well.
So, as I reevaluate the idea of Church & State and the seperation thereof, I would be more inclined to say that the seperation is a good thing. Then again, anything in history and anything that happens at all is done for a reason; God had His purposes of allowing the combination of the two forces. Perhaps for mercy's sake. Perhaps for something totally other. But you know what, I don't think what this nation needs is the joined forces of Church & State, but instead what we need is persecution. Is it weird for me to say that? Probably. I for one don't like the idea of being pressed on every side and having to choose between renouncing Christ or death; though I'd like to think I know which I would choose in a heartbeat. Maybe Christ would be more real and dear and tangible, and really the only thing that we can cling to for hope if we were given black and white choices. I hear stories and read stories about brothers and sisters overseas and I am humbled. Their faith is so much greater than my own, that they could take a beating and keep on going to the foot of the Cross, keep on speaking the words of the love of Christ and know they could be killed for it. It's amazing, and praises be that God is using them to transform lives.
I pray that He will keep them strong. It'll be great to meet them in the presence of Glory.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Towers
When I was thinking about writing a journal entry earlier today, the notion to write about 9/11 never occurred to me. Just about half an hour ago, though, I finished watching a documentary on CBS about an FDNY fire station that two frenchmen compiled. I came about half way into it; turns out that the frenchmen were filming when 9/11 happened, and of course they caught every move this fire station made. One was in the first tower nearly the whole time; the other (they are brothers) was at the fire station when everything started happening. Over all, with interviews from the men from that station recounting that day, the documentary was hard to watch.
It's crazy to think about, that something so devastating only happened five years ago... our country hasn't been the same since, perhaps even the world. For example, less than a month ago, I was at a friends apartment playing Family Feud on old school NES..one of the surveys was to name the worlds tallest sky scrapers. After my friend listed many I would have never thought of, I gave it some thought... The World Trade Center came to mind, and it was one of those on the list.
I have never been the same since.
Looking back at an old Live Journal entry, I'm amazed. I'd forgotten that a few nights prior I had a dream about two buildings being bombed; but now with that entry recorded for me to look back on, I remember the dream fairly well... they were two malls and I was trying to get all of my friends out. I don't think I managed to do so.
9/11 happened while I wasn't yet a Christian, and I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to feel. I remember much of that morning pretty clearly. I'm 22 years old and I know that it is one of the most memorable days of my life. As the LJ entry says, I didn't think much of it at first, but as the day wore on, the more and more I felt the affects. I was shaken up inside, and wounded for those who had lost someone they knew. The first song that came to my mind was the opening of a U2 song: Sunday Bloody Sunday:
It was the first night I prayed in years, if really at all. While I was only just becoming familiar with the one true God, I knew that whatever God was, whoever God was--if he even existed--God was the only thing I knew to turn to plead for the lives of the people affected by the attack, that they would have some kind of comfort. I wanted to embrace those affected and hold them close. I even wanted to be held onto by someone.
What saddens me about looking back at those journal entries is the fact that the following days were uplifting because a certain boy seemed to have taken an interest in me. If you're bored and want a peek at my high-school past, feel free to wander those entries. But I suppose it's well enough- that boy brought a curiosity about Christ out of me. Join that with the events and confusion about 9/11, and you see where my faith-journey began. It wasn't until a month later that I embraced Jesus as my Savior.
It makes me curious now... I think out of all of the friends that I have that I met at college, and I don't think there's one of them who I've asked about 9/11, or even talked about 9/11 with outside of sharing my testimony. I suppose that's from not having it constantly on my mind; though perhaps I just don't want to talk about it or subject anyone else to talk about it.
It's funny thinking about Before and After as well, especially in regard to the War on Terrorism. I do wonder, 'Are we really that much safer than we were before?' Well, honestly, probably not. God is the guy in charge, and if the devil wants to do something to humankind he has to first get permission from the Boss. It's crazy to think about it that way, especially in context of 9/11, but look at the story of Job. I would hope that it wouldn't shed a terrible light on the Lord of all the earth, because I love Him... but I can see how some people would be turned off to the slightest suggestion that terrible events are still within the control of God. What kind of loving God would allow something so awful to happen?
I could only wish to know how to answer that sort of question, besides suggesting that Yahweh does things for His glory. And even that answer isn't satisfactory; it raises a cry of, "How can a loving God be so selfish?" If I were God, I could answer that for you. But, because I am not at all like God in my fallen human nature, I cannot. It's probably better for us all that I am not a god... I'm sure many out there would agree.
Ecclesiastes sheds a little bit of light on the subject, at least. Check out chapter 3, verses 1 to 8:
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
There's a time for everything... the cycles of life - good and bad - are not unknown to God. 9/11 was not unknown to Him and it's not like He wasn't paying attention for something terrible to happen. So... really... ultimately I don't think America is all that much safer. I do think that the world at large is a bit more alert, and that perhaps some folks in America are a bit paranoid. Some people in authority have made grave mistakes since then.
But, if 9/11 did not happen, would the recent event in England every have been prevented? Or, because 9/11 did happen, was it just a copy-cat attempt? We may never know... perhaps it's not even important that we know. Rather than being 'safer,' a better phrase is that 'we are more prepared.' There are folks know how to handle natural disasters; maybe we really have been moving into an era in which we need to be prepared for unnatural disasters in which the planes no longer carry weapons but thought to be weapons of mass destruction in and of themselves.
Perhaps I am beginning to run down a rabbit trail. Many other thoughts tangent off of this subject. Example: President Bush and how the world hates him. While I make no active effort to be political in any shape or form, one thing is for certain: we sure don't have a whole lot of grace for a guy that's just as sin-soaked as the rest of us. But then again, I know we feel the room to be so cynical because he is supposed to be the leader. Must suck knowing that half the country is against you, though. There are certain things that make me favor Bush more than others, but I'll be honest, he and everyone else sure do make it hard to keep him in favor.
Like I said, tangent... huge tangent, since I usually avoid the political end of things. It's all a game I don't want to get tangled up in. But I bring up that tangent in particular because Bush was the one who was in office during 9/11. To cut him out of the picture entirely would leave for an image full of holes.
The other rabbit trail that comes to mind is End Times.
There's a quote I kind of like, despite its tragic outlook on life: Every day brings us one step closer to death. Seems kind of obvious. Perhaps just as obvious is that ever since the Fall, we've been ever closer to the End Times than we were before the Fall. But why worry about the End Times, in the sense of wondering when it's going to happen? When it starts happening, you'll know. Till then, enjoy life--no, better yet, embrace life.
Alas, I have rambled quite a bit more than I intended. When you find yourself talking about things that aren't necessarily connected to the main topic, you know you've said too much.
Y
It's crazy to think about, that something so devastating only happened five years ago... our country hasn't been the same since, perhaps even the world. For example, less than a month ago, I was at a friends apartment playing Family Feud on old school NES..one of the surveys was to name the worlds tallest sky scrapers. After my friend listed many I would have never thought of, I gave it some thought... The World Trade Center came to mind, and it was one of those on the list.
I have never been the same since.
Looking back at an old Live Journal entry, I'm amazed. I'd forgotten that a few nights prior I had a dream about two buildings being bombed; but now with that entry recorded for me to look back on, I remember the dream fairly well... they were two malls and I was trying to get all of my friends out. I don't think I managed to do so.
9/11 happened while I wasn't yet a Christian, and I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to feel. I remember much of that morning pretty clearly. I'm 22 years old and I know that it is one of the most memorable days of my life. As the LJ entry says, I didn't think much of it at first, but as the day wore on, the more and more I felt the affects. I was shaken up inside, and wounded for those who had lost someone they knew. The first song that came to my mind was the opening of a U2 song: Sunday Bloody Sunday:
"I can't believe the news today;
I can't close my eyes and make it go away..."
Different subject, but those words could not have rung any more true with me.
Quite a contrast with Columbine.... when Columbine happened I didn't care and figured the kids who died in that deserved it anyway. Yeah, I was pretty cold-hearted. But when 9/11 rolled around, I ached. I wanted a hug. I wanted to go home.I can't close my eyes and make it go away..."
Different subject, but those words could not have rung any more true with me.
It was the first night I prayed in years, if really at all. While I was only just becoming familiar with the one true God, I knew that whatever God was, whoever God was--if he even existed--God was the only thing I knew to turn to plead for the lives of the people affected by the attack, that they would have some kind of comfort. I wanted to embrace those affected and hold them close. I even wanted to be held onto by someone.
What saddens me about looking back at those journal entries is the fact that the following days were uplifting because a certain boy seemed to have taken an interest in me. If you're bored and want a peek at my high-school past, feel free to wander those entries. But I suppose it's well enough- that boy brought a curiosity about Christ out of me. Join that with the events and confusion about 9/11, and you see where my faith-journey began. It wasn't until a month later that I embraced Jesus as my Savior.
It makes me curious now... I think out of all of the friends that I have that I met at college, and I don't think there's one of them who I've asked about 9/11, or even talked about 9/11 with outside of sharing my testimony. I suppose that's from not having it constantly on my mind; though perhaps I just don't want to talk about it or subject anyone else to talk about it.
It's funny thinking about Before and After as well, especially in regard to the War on Terrorism. I do wonder, 'Are we really that much safer than we were before?' Well, honestly, probably not. God is the guy in charge, and if the devil wants to do something to humankind he has to first get permission from the Boss. It's crazy to think about it that way, especially in context of 9/11, but look at the story of Job. I would hope that it wouldn't shed a terrible light on the Lord of all the earth, because I love Him... but I can see how some people would be turned off to the slightest suggestion that terrible events are still within the control of God. What kind of loving God would allow something so awful to happen?
I could only wish to know how to answer that sort of question, besides suggesting that Yahweh does things for His glory. And even that answer isn't satisfactory; it raises a cry of, "How can a loving God be so selfish?" If I were God, I could answer that for you. But, because I am not at all like God in my fallen human nature, I cannot. It's probably better for us all that I am not a god... I'm sure many out there would agree.
Ecclesiastes sheds a little bit of light on the subject, at least. Check out chapter 3, verses 1 to 8:
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
There's a time for everything... the cycles of life - good and bad - are not unknown to God. 9/11 was not unknown to Him and it's not like He wasn't paying attention for something terrible to happen. So... really... ultimately I don't think America is all that much safer. I do think that the world at large is a bit more alert, and that perhaps some folks in America are a bit paranoid. Some people in authority have made grave mistakes since then.
But, if 9/11 did not happen, would the recent event in England every have been prevented? Or, because 9/11 did happen, was it just a copy-cat attempt? We may never know... perhaps it's not even important that we know. Rather than being 'safer,' a better phrase is that 'we are more prepared.' There are folks know how to handle natural disasters; maybe we really have been moving into an era in which we need to be prepared for unnatural disasters in which the planes no longer carry weapons but thought to be weapons of mass destruction in and of themselves.
Perhaps I am beginning to run down a rabbit trail. Many other thoughts tangent off of this subject. Example: President Bush and how the world hates him. While I make no active effort to be political in any shape or form, one thing is for certain: we sure don't have a whole lot of grace for a guy that's just as sin-soaked as the rest of us. But then again, I know we feel the room to be so cynical because he is supposed to be the leader. Must suck knowing that half the country is against you, though. There are certain things that make me favor Bush more than others, but I'll be honest, he and everyone else sure do make it hard to keep him in favor.
Like I said, tangent... huge tangent, since I usually avoid the political end of things. It's all a game I don't want to get tangled up in. But I bring up that tangent in particular because Bush was the one who was in office during 9/11. To cut him out of the picture entirely would leave for an image full of holes.
The other rabbit trail that comes to mind is End Times.
There's a quote I kind of like, despite its tragic outlook on life: Every day brings us one step closer to death. Seems kind of obvious. Perhaps just as obvious is that ever since the Fall, we've been ever closer to the End Times than we were before the Fall. But why worry about the End Times, in the sense of wondering when it's going to happen? When it starts happening, you'll know. Till then, enjoy life--no, better yet, embrace life.
Alas, I have rambled quite a bit more than I intended. When you find yourself talking about things that aren't necessarily connected to the main topic, you know you've said too much.
Y
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
There's Another Train
The beginning is now and will always be
You say you lost your chance, then fate brought you defeat
but that means nothing, you look so sad
You've been listening to those who say you missed your chance
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
You feel you're done; there's no such thing
although you're standing on your own your own, breath is king
The beginning is now don't turn around
Regrets of bad mistakes will only drain you
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
We crawl in the dark sometimes and think too much
Then we fill our heads with crazy things that only break our hearts
and I know you've seen what the earth can do
When it's dragging down another load of worrisome fools
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
I know it's hard when you feel confused
You can crown yourself with fear till you feel you cannot move
You're building worlds that don't exist
Imagination plays the worst tricks
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
There always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
-- Pete Morton
I heard this song a long time ago though I didn't know that a man wrote and sang it originally. The one I know is a beautiful rendition that a woman did, and I heard it again today. The Lord knows so well what I need to hear.
You say you lost your chance, then fate brought you defeat
but that means nothing, you look so sad
You've been listening to those who say you missed your chance
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
You feel you're done; there's no such thing
although you're standing on your own your own, breath is king
The beginning is now don't turn around
Regrets of bad mistakes will only drain you
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
We crawl in the dark sometimes and think too much
Then we fill our heads with crazy things that only break our hearts
and I know you've seen what the earth can do
When it's dragging down another load of worrisome fools
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
I know it's hard when you feel confused
You can crown yourself with fear till you feel you cannot move
You're building worlds that don't exist
Imagination plays the worst tricks
There's another train, there always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
There always is
Maybe the next one is yours
Get up and climb aboard another train
-- Pete Morton
I heard this song a long time ago though I didn't know that a man wrote and sang it originally. The one I know is a beautiful rendition that a woman did, and I heard it again today. The Lord knows so well what I need to hear.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Crikey!
Yet again, news unrelated to art...
Steve Irwin dies due to stingray injury.
You know, as terrible as it is to say it, you knew that Steve was going to die because something in the animal kingdom. Call me crazy, but I don't see it as a fault. Maybe that's because I have had a certain fondness for the wacky Austrailians antics with crocodiles and various other deadly creatures. Some people think he was insane doing that, but there's something terribly admirable about a man who has an insatiable curiosity and desire to learn more - and then, in turn, share that with the world.
Would it be so strange to admire a man who dies doing what he loves best? Perhaps it's some sort of weird romanticized admiration, made out to be more than what it actually is. There's nothing wrong with getting old and dying; in fact, that's probably the way I'd like to be shuffled out... nevermind the fact that it's very difficult to find ways to die while making two-dimensional art. But I digress.
Steve Irwin had passion for what he did and it oozed out of every pore of his body. Most people with that sort of passion are deemed as crazy, radical (or heretical), and eccentric. Regardless of one's feelings about it, I'm sure we all have a bite of appreciation for that sort of passion and wish that we would realize what our own passions are.
Prayers go out to the Irwins... may the Lord comfort their hearts in this time.
Bits from the thickets of Facebook: Wow. There are 265 groups (and likely more to come) dedicated to Steve Irwin.
Steve Irwin dies due to stingray injury.
You know, as terrible as it is to say it, you knew that Steve was going to die because something in the animal kingdom. Call me crazy, but I don't see it as a fault. Maybe that's because I have had a certain fondness for the wacky Austrailians antics with crocodiles and various other deadly creatures. Some people think he was insane doing that, but there's something terribly admirable about a man who has an insatiable curiosity and desire to learn more - and then, in turn, share that with the world.
Would it be so strange to admire a man who dies doing what he loves best? Perhaps it's some sort of weird romanticized admiration, made out to be more than what it actually is. There's nothing wrong with getting old and dying; in fact, that's probably the way I'd like to be shuffled out... nevermind the fact that it's very difficult to find ways to die while making two-dimensional art. But I digress.
Steve Irwin had passion for what he did and it oozed out of every pore of his body. Most people with that sort of passion are deemed as crazy, radical (or heretical), and eccentric. Regardless of one's feelings about it, I'm sure we all have a bite of appreciation for that sort of passion and wish that we would realize what our own passions are.
Prayers go out to the Irwins... may the Lord comfort their hearts in this time.
Bits from the thickets of Facebook: Wow. There are 265 groups (and likely more to come) dedicated to Steve Irwin.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Da Vinci and Phillip
Come and See: Leonardo da Vinci's Phillip in The Last Supper. Click here.
I don't know how I missed this two weeks ago... Makoto Fujimura's thoughts regarding the currently-controversial da Vinci and the painting's true code. Worth a read to see a bit of a critique on the painting, art, and the church.
I don't know how I missed this two weeks ago... Makoto Fujimura's thoughts regarding the currently-controversial da Vinci and the painting's true code. Worth a read to see a bit of a critique on the painting, art, and the church.
Sex and Violence
Okay okay... so the last post was me being all whiny about an art piece that wasn't coming together. I haven't tried pulling it together yet, since I'm totally throwing in the towel; trial and error. Now I know what not to do when I'm trying to make something like that, if I try it again. Time to look forward and forget what is behind me. The two other pieces are coming along well and hopefully the end result will prove to be fruitful. Also, once I get back into some kind of art groove, my entries will be more art-related. Till then...
On to this business of Sex and Violence.
While I don't remember which book brought it to my attention, but in my past readings I came across an interesting statement. The writer basically pointed out the fact that Christians are gun-shot quick to point out sexual situations in movies and television, but not so quick to gripe about the violence in television. This caught my attention because it's definitely something I find true of myself: I'm pretty quick to let my brothers know if there is a sex scene with frontal nudity in a movie that I had the chance to see before them, and basically tell them to look out for it and guard their eyes. Not a peep of a warning will come out of me about violence, to anybody and I look it over.
As a believer, I know that God does not take delight in the glorification of sex outside of marriage, nor does He take delight in the glorification of violence. And yet, some of my favored movies have got violence coming out all over the place. Shaun of the Dead and Kill Bill are on one extreme, being overly ridiculous and fake; Fight Club is on the other end, though not as violent as what I've heard about The History of Violence... a movie I want to see, but almost sounds like it's more than what I can take.
Perhaps Christians get more agitated by the glorification of sex because it's something we know we can experience and hold as sacred... Not only that, but we know we can easily fall into the temptation of lust through sexual sounds and images. Violence, on the other hand, is something we can separate ourselves from. We figure we aren't tempted to be violent after seeing such material. I know for myself that I can think, "I could never do that and no one who is stable would really want to." But, did you know that overtly violent films still put garbage in my head...?
Yet I struggle knowing that violence is a part of every day life. Life is not meant to be filled with violence, but we live in a post-Fall world and I appreciate it when serious movies keep it real and don't brush off the rough parts of life.
Another book that I'm currently reading gave fuel to these thoughts.. actually the church history book I'm reading. Let me quote something for you that is in the context of early Christians rejecting pagan lifestyles:
"Other social events Christians rejected because they found
them wrong in themselves. Gladitorial combats, for example,
were to the Christian inhuman. In amphitheaters all across
the empire, the Romans forced prisoners of war and slaves to
fight with each other to the death, just for the amusement of
the crowd. The excitement was seductive. As late as the early
fifth century, Augustine tells the story of his friend Alypius, who
agreed to attend a spectacle to please a friend, but resolved to
keep his eyes shut. When the shouting began, his eyes popped
open, and he was yelling aboved the rest."
Then a whole other question comes into play that I won't even touch on because I don't even know how to answer it: How do you keep connected to contemporary times through movies and television, without compromising certain values?
Another point of interest is the fact that horror flicks basically couple violence and sex in the same breath. Figure that one out.
Anyway... enough of those thoughts from me. More uplifting thoughts to come later centered on unrelated topics.
Y
On to this business of Sex and Violence.
While I don't remember which book brought it to my attention, but in my past readings I came across an interesting statement. The writer basically pointed out the fact that Christians are gun-shot quick to point out sexual situations in movies and television, but not so quick to gripe about the violence in television. This caught my attention because it's definitely something I find true of myself: I'm pretty quick to let my brothers know if there is a sex scene with frontal nudity in a movie that I had the chance to see before them, and basically tell them to look out for it and guard their eyes. Not a peep of a warning will come out of me about violence, to anybody and I look it over.
As a believer, I know that God does not take delight in the glorification of sex outside of marriage, nor does He take delight in the glorification of violence. And yet, some of my favored movies have got violence coming out all over the place. Shaun of the Dead and Kill Bill are on one extreme, being overly ridiculous and fake; Fight Club is on the other end, though not as violent as what I've heard about The History of Violence... a movie I want to see, but almost sounds like it's more than what I can take.
Perhaps Christians get more agitated by the glorification of sex because it's something we know we can experience and hold as sacred... Not only that, but we know we can easily fall into the temptation of lust through sexual sounds and images. Violence, on the other hand, is something we can separate ourselves from. We figure we aren't tempted to be violent after seeing such material. I know for myself that I can think, "I could never do that and no one who is stable would really want to." But, did you know that overtly violent films still put garbage in my head...?
Yet I struggle knowing that violence is a part of every day life. Life is not meant to be filled with violence, but we live in a post-Fall world and I appreciate it when serious movies keep it real and don't brush off the rough parts of life.
Another book that I'm currently reading gave fuel to these thoughts.. actually the church history book I'm reading. Let me quote something for you that is in the context of early Christians rejecting pagan lifestyles:
"Other social events Christians rejected because they found
them wrong in themselves. Gladitorial combats, for example,
were to the Christian inhuman. In amphitheaters all across
the empire, the Romans forced prisoners of war and slaves to
fight with each other to the death, just for the amusement of
the crowd. The excitement was seductive. As late as the early
fifth century, Augustine tells the story of his friend Alypius, who
agreed to attend a spectacle to please a friend, but resolved to
keep his eyes shut. When the shouting began, his eyes popped
open, and he was yelling aboved the rest."
Alypius didn't want to watch in the beginning, and found no delight in the idea of men fighting to the death... but, "the excitement was seductive," and the rest is supposed-history. And that was over tangible life and death violence; what I speak of is simply theatre. I have to wonder at what point is it okay to be entertained by violence, since it seems so obvious that it is never okay to be entertained by watching other people have sex. It has the appearance of a double standard, doesn't it?
Then a whole other question comes into play that I won't even touch on because I don't even know how to answer it: How do you keep connected to contemporary times through movies and television, without compromising certain values?
Another point of interest is the fact that horror flicks basically couple violence and sex in the same breath. Figure that one out.
Anyway... enough of those thoughts from me. More uplifting thoughts to come later centered on unrelated topics.
Y
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A disaster in the making
Everything in me is hating this right now.
Not only does it just look awful as it is, it also sparkles... Sure, you can't really tell that it does from the photo, and it doesn't sparkle a lot, but it sparkles just enough to be annoying. There's something about art work that sparkles that screams gawdy and tacky. I'm trying to make it work and unfortunately it's just not working. Time to throw in the towel.
When thinking about where I went wrong, it all must've started with the blue-printing. I seriously did not put a lot of thought into this. No sketches. No direction... You would think this would teach me a lesson, but unfortunately it's a running theme with how I work. It's seriously a self-destructive process, and I need to stop.
I'm in a weird state of mind right now... Currently discontent with not having made any work for two months, yet defeated by the lack of motivation (aka, inspiration). I just want to start doing something. I've got two unfinished works waiting for me; one is exciting for me, the other- well, I'm unsure about it. Perhaps part of my issue right now is that I'm not a) surrounded by other artists, which is what I'm used to from taking classes for four years and b) not getting any critique at all. The only voice going into these works is my own, and let me tell you, for someone who just graduated college it sure doesn't have a lot to say.
I'm being too pessimistic, I know. And this entry isn't really as thoughtful as it could be. There's a lot going on in my world, and all I want right now is a little bit of human fellowship.
When thinking about where I went wrong, it all must've started with the blue-printing. I seriously did not put a lot of thought into this. No sketches. No direction... You would think this would teach me a lesson, but unfortunately it's a running theme with how I work. It's seriously a self-destructive process, and I need to stop.
I'm in a weird state of mind right now... Currently discontent with not having made any work for two months, yet defeated by the lack of motivation (aka, inspiration). I just want to start doing something. I've got two unfinished works waiting for me; one is exciting for me, the other- well, I'm unsure about it. Perhaps part of my issue right now is that I'm not a) surrounded by other artists, which is what I'm used to from taking classes for four years and b) not getting any critique at all. The only voice going into these works is my own, and let me tell you, for someone who just graduated college it sure doesn't have a lot to say.
I'm being too pessimistic, I know. And this entry isn't really as thoughtful as it could be. There's a lot going on in my world, and all I want right now is a little bit of human fellowship.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
The Sunday morning I would have never expected
I'm about to get a little sentimental on you, so if you can't handle it, stop reading now.
I became a Christian my senior year of high school. Unlike many folks I've met since then, I did not grow up in a church nor did I really have any familiarity with churchy-things for the majority of my life. In fact, I would wager to say I was pretty anti-church (see: anti-Christian) by the time I moved to PA and went through the last years of middle school and into high school. I was hurt by a church--the circumstances weren't really their part though, retrospectively. When I decided to be a Christian, it was difficult to even get to the point that I wanted to try going to a church. I started going to a church with my friend Sarah the last half of senior year, and partially into the summer. Once I hit college, I had no where to go for the first half of my freshman year. I didn't even know what it meant to look for a church and I was still a bit edgy about the idea of being in a congregation filled with people who I thought wouldn't want much to do with me. I was nervous around church goers.
Eventually I checked out a few churches.... and by 'few', I really mean it. I think I only really checked out three. I'm not so good with church-shopping.
there was this little church that I went to with a few friends, though, and to be honest I don't really even remember my first day being there. What I do remember is that I felt okay there.. safe.. like I was accepted. Maybe it's because I had a handful of friends that went there too, maybe it's because the congregation was small and I didn't feel like just another face in the crowd. But, it's the church I ended up sticking with: Cornerstone Community Church.
That's a breif history of my church experience for you. I've been a part of Cornerstone for three and a half years, and they are truly my church family. It's the first church I've ever been a member of. It's the place where I've seen Christian community and family in action through homegroups. There's a lot that I've learned from people like Ronaldo, the Herrlins (Dan and Trista, and Pastor Nate and Anne), and a few others in the past. I've been able to feel like an adopted little sister to Mark and Steph Yoder and a big sister to their daughter Amy. Of course, I have learned a great deal from our head pastor, Mark (fondly: P.Mark) Hardenbrook, from his sermons. I think it would be safe to say that one big reason I wanted to stay at Cornerstone was because of the sermons. While I do not mean to paint any sort of extravagant picture of P.Mark, there is something about his sermons that usually have bold confidence and humility wrapped up into speaking Biblical truths. His are the sort of sermons that have taught me, challenged me, and encouraged me.... really, isn't that what a sermon is supposed to do no matter who is giving it?
Over the past year or so, I have had the opportunity to get together with P.Mark for coffee-ish-ness (or, favorably, breakfast... even it if was at 7:00 in the morning or earlier) on and off. Like any good man or woman of God he's been able to dig at the tough stuff going on in my crazy world of thinking, one hand offering challenges and the other encouragement, both pushing me towards Christ. The Lord has been so good to have blessed me with people that can effectively teach me with that sort of method. But what I really want to say is that P.Mark has become more than just a pastor to me, but someone that I can easily call a dear friend. He is a shepherd that cares for his sheep and acknowledges the fact that he too is a sheep cared for by a Shepherd.
So, why am I going into all of this? What does it matter? Some if it has to do with the fact that I will not be going to Cornerstone for much longer. Sometime within the next two months (Lord willing), I will be moving to Philadelphia. But there's more to it than that.
It was about 11PM when I started this entry, a little under twelve hours after the church service from this morning. P.Mark's sermon was about how to handle change, all focusing around the account of Joseph's life. That man certainly went through an awful lot of changes in his life, and all the while handled them in a God-honoring way even though he probably got scared, angry, and sad at times. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why P.Mark would be talking about this though. I tried to figure it out, and thought it may have something to do with the fact that the college students were back or that the church is moving into a new building.
That's when the unexpected was spoken.
With quickly reddening eyes and a choked up voice, P.Mark announced that he was to be resigning from his pastorship position at our church. I was stunned when he started talking about it. He explained that his and Kathy's (that's his wife) gifts were needed elsewhere.... his parents in Arkansas are becoming unable to fully care for themselves. His father is becoming blind and his mother's arthritis is getting so bad that she can't use her hands. This has been on his and Kathy's mind for 18 months... I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for them, on any and all levels. They aren't sure when they are going to move, although Kathy mentioned to me that they are likely to be around for a few more months yet.
After (really during) P.Mark's annoucement, I wasn't sure how to react aside from doing my best to hold back tears. I wasn't too successful. I know that it's good that P.Mark and his wife are going to be with his parents... in a lot of ways, I highly admire it and hope that I would be brave/strong enough to do that when my own parents are in need later in life. I know that the Lord is going to continue working in Cornerstone, and I know the Lord is going to continue working in their lives in Arkansas... I know He's going to be working in me apart from Cornerstone and apart from P.Mark. But I will be honest... much of this morning and a good portion of this afternoon was very difficult for me. In some ways I feel self-centered, but I am a human being. I have real, raw emotion that does have the tendancy to get through the fortress I normally have built up to stay composed.
Perhaps it's been as difficult for me as it has been because it's double-fold.. Not only am I leaving, but P. Mark will be leaving too. See, I'm not sure if I ever told him (I'll be sure to do so now), but if I ever get married, P.Mark is the pastor I want. That's how much I love this guy... seriously.
It's weird thinking that if I visit Cornerstone in a year, P.Mark won't be around. It makes me wish I would have opened up to him and his family a lot sooner than I did, but I'm grateful for the time I did get to hang out... and now I just want to hang out with his family all the time before I leave. But I know I can't because he probably wouldn't let me. He's a good pastor like that and a better steward of his time than I am. In some ways, it makes me really grateful that I'm going to be in Allentown for at least another month-- today was going to be my last Sunday. If it had happened that way, I would have been much more upset.
Now, I'll be praying for him, his family, and Cornerstone... we'll be going through a new phase in church-life: looking for a new pastor. I can't imagine Cornerstone without P.Mark there, but there will be a time in the future where new people won't be able to imagine Cornerstone with whoever comes in his place.
After the service, I walked up to him and said, "You- what are you doing making me cry?" Some conversation passes between us and then he remarks to me, "Hey, you were leaving us first."
Touche, P.Mark.
-Y
I became a Christian my senior year of high school. Unlike many folks I've met since then, I did not grow up in a church nor did I really have any familiarity with churchy-things for the majority of my life. In fact, I would wager to say I was pretty anti-church (see: anti-Christian) by the time I moved to PA and went through the last years of middle school and into high school. I was hurt by a church--the circumstances weren't really their part though, retrospectively. When I decided to be a Christian, it was difficult to even get to the point that I wanted to try going to a church. I started going to a church with my friend Sarah the last half of senior year, and partially into the summer. Once I hit college, I had no where to go for the first half of my freshman year. I didn't even know what it meant to look for a church and I was still a bit edgy about the idea of being in a congregation filled with people who I thought wouldn't want much to do with me. I was nervous around church goers.
Eventually I checked out a few churches.... and by 'few', I really mean it. I think I only really checked out three. I'm not so good with church-shopping.
there was this little church that I went to with a few friends, though, and to be honest I don't really even remember my first day being there. What I do remember is that I felt okay there.. safe.. like I was accepted. Maybe it's because I had a handful of friends that went there too, maybe it's because the congregation was small and I didn't feel like just another face in the crowd. But, it's the church I ended up sticking with: Cornerstone Community Church.
That's a breif history of my church experience for you. I've been a part of Cornerstone for three and a half years, and they are truly my church family. It's the first church I've ever been a member of. It's the place where I've seen Christian community and family in action through homegroups. There's a lot that I've learned from people like Ronaldo, the Herrlins (Dan and Trista, and Pastor Nate and Anne), and a few others in the past. I've been able to feel like an adopted little sister to Mark and Steph Yoder and a big sister to their daughter Amy. Of course, I have learned a great deal from our head pastor, Mark (fondly: P.Mark) Hardenbrook, from his sermons. I think it would be safe to say that one big reason I wanted to stay at Cornerstone was because of the sermons. While I do not mean to paint any sort of extravagant picture of P.Mark, there is something about his sermons that usually have bold confidence and humility wrapped up into speaking Biblical truths. His are the sort of sermons that have taught me, challenged me, and encouraged me.... really, isn't that what a sermon is supposed to do no matter who is giving it?
Over the past year or so, I have had the opportunity to get together with P.Mark for coffee-ish-ness (or, favorably, breakfast... even it if was at 7:00 in the morning or earlier) on and off. Like any good man or woman of God he's been able to dig at the tough stuff going on in my crazy world of thinking, one hand offering challenges and the other encouragement, both pushing me towards Christ. The Lord has been so good to have blessed me with people that can effectively teach me with that sort of method. But what I really want to say is that P.Mark has become more than just a pastor to me, but someone that I can easily call a dear friend. He is a shepherd that cares for his sheep and acknowledges the fact that he too is a sheep cared for by a Shepherd.
So, why am I going into all of this? What does it matter? Some if it has to do with the fact that I will not be going to Cornerstone for much longer. Sometime within the next two months (Lord willing), I will be moving to Philadelphia. But there's more to it than that.
It was about 11PM when I started this entry, a little under twelve hours after the church service from this morning. P.Mark's sermon was about how to handle change, all focusing around the account of Joseph's life. That man certainly went through an awful lot of changes in his life, and all the while handled them in a God-honoring way even though he probably got scared, angry, and sad at times. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why P.Mark would be talking about this though. I tried to figure it out, and thought it may have something to do with the fact that the college students were back or that the church is moving into a new building.
That's when the unexpected was spoken.
With quickly reddening eyes and a choked up voice, P.Mark announced that he was to be resigning from his pastorship position at our church. I was stunned when he started talking about it. He explained that his and Kathy's (that's his wife) gifts were needed elsewhere.... his parents in Arkansas are becoming unable to fully care for themselves. His father is becoming blind and his mother's arthritis is getting so bad that she can't use her hands. This has been on his and Kathy's mind for 18 months... I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for them, on any and all levels. They aren't sure when they are going to move, although Kathy mentioned to me that they are likely to be around for a few more months yet.
After (really during) P.Mark's annoucement, I wasn't sure how to react aside from doing my best to hold back tears. I wasn't too successful. I know that it's good that P.Mark and his wife are going to be with his parents... in a lot of ways, I highly admire it and hope that I would be brave/strong enough to do that when my own parents are in need later in life. I know that the Lord is going to continue working in Cornerstone, and I know the Lord is going to continue working in their lives in Arkansas... I know He's going to be working in me apart from Cornerstone and apart from P.Mark. But I will be honest... much of this morning and a good portion of this afternoon was very difficult for me. In some ways I feel self-centered, but I am a human being. I have real, raw emotion that does have the tendancy to get through the fortress I normally have built up to stay composed.
Perhaps it's been as difficult for me as it has been because it's double-fold.. Not only am I leaving, but P. Mark will be leaving too. See, I'm not sure if I ever told him (I'll be sure to do so now), but if I ever get married, P.Mark is the pastor I want. That's how much I love this guy... seriously.
It's weird thinking that if I visit Cornerstone in a year, P.Mark won't be around. It makes me wish I would have opened up to him and his family a lot sooner than I did, but I'm grateful for the time I did get to hang out... and now I just want to hang out with his family all the time before I leave. But I know I can't because he probably wouldn't let me. He's a good pastor like that and a better steward of his time than I am. In some ways, it makes me really grateful that I'm going to be in Allentown for at least another month-- today was going to be my last Sunday. If it had happened that way, I would have been much more upset.
Now, I'll be praying for him, his family, and Cornerstone... we'll be going through a new phase in church-life: looking for a new pastor. I can't imagine Cornerstone without P.Mark there, but there will be a time in the future where new people won't be able to imagine Cornerstone with whoever comes in his place.
After the service, I walked up to him and said, "You- what are you doing making me cry?" Some conversation passes between us and then he remarks to me, "Hey, you were leaving us first."
Touche, P.Mark.
-Y
Saturday, August 26, 2006
And thus the cryptic nature of the things I write
Logos
What are words, but that which gives ephemeral form
to thoughts and pictures,
or syllables weaved together to create a new sound?
And from whence does it come?
A box that cannot contain that which it produces:
foreign creatures with wings,
anxious to break free and be taken away by the wind,
left to ride the backs of thunderheads
This is the immersion of voice, buried deep yet exposed,
raised letter by letter like the resurrection of saints
and falling as a holy waterfall
Yet so much more are the strokes of a pen
that grace the surface of a sleek white virgin page,
truly allowing it to breathe some new thing
Word given form, shape and purpose
bringing to potential paper and ink, united as a bride to a groom
The result leaves humanity colliding with divinity,
drawn in by a shepherd's hook that brings the cold close
and holds her in a warm embrace
What are these words that fall off the tongues of cherubim,
cresting the edge of the world like satin white horses?
The lungs of man will be filled with poignant pictures,
and trifold 'holies'
The pen will make his mark on internal walls,
saturated with the sound of glory
These new things, these shapes and figures-
whence do they come?
Not from the depths of the sea, nor bellows of the earth
is it heard or seen or smelt or tasted
A voice of such words that are foreign,
yet inviting the Dark to be pierced by Light
and speaking in a beautiful spectrum that is hidden by angels
The syllables are deep and brought to the surface,
the infrastructure of the world cradled in the palm of one word
and blazing into unseen cardiac highways
YB 06 8/25
What are words, but that which gives ephemeral form
to thoughts and pictures,
or syllables weaved together to create a new sound?
And from whence does it come?
A box that cannot contain that which it produces:
foreign creatures with wings,
anxious to break free and be taken away by the wind,
left to ride the backs of thunderheads
This is the immersion of voice, buried deep yet exposed,
raised letter by letter like the resurrection of saints
and falling as a holy waterfall
Yet so much more are the strokes of a pen
that grace the surface of a sleek white virgin page,
truly allowing it to breathe some new thing
Word given form, shape and purpose
bringing to potential paper and ink, united as a bride to a groom
The result leaves humanity colliding with divinity,
drawn in by a shepherd's hook that brings the cold close
and holds her in a warm embrace
What are these words that fall off the tongues of cherubim,
cresting the edge of the world like satin white horses?
The lungs of man will be filled with poignant pictures,
and trifold 'holies'
The pen will make his mark on internal walls,
saturated with the sound of glory
These new things, these shapes and figures-
whence do they come?
Not from the depths of the sea, nor bellows of the earth
is it heard or seen or smelt or tasted
A voice of such words that are foreign,
yet inviting the Dark to be pierced by Light
and speaking in a beautiful spectrum that is hidden by angels
The syllables are deep and brought to the surface,
the infrastructure of the world cradled in the palm of one word
and blazing into unseen cardiac highways
YB 06 8/25
Friday, August 25, 2006
Forgotten poetry
Seeking Sanctuary
Metal trees built up with jagged edges
and razor-blade leaves
as the sound of aged grinding gears
accompanies chimneys coughing smog
A shroud of oil begins to blanket the floor-
How did I come to this place?
So foreign and industrious a forest;
I can taste the rust in the air
and hear the metal groaning in the want of something more.
A twinge of familiarity-
I've been here before.
This isn't where I want to be.
I hold myself together vainly,
arms wrapped shoulder to shoulder
Stones whisper with itching ears,
desperate for the color of life
The weight of hollow metal is opressive
as it echoes the voices of my sin,
my faults,
my malignant thoughts
Oil seeps into my wounds to suffocate healing
The slick and sticky touch of where I've been.
This isn't where I want to be.
Turning yet blind to the path
with rocks, gears, wire
holding me down and blocking the way
My heartbeat ticking as a time-bomb-
eyes cast from this dangerous forest to the heavens
I can see rays of light
wrapped around velvety clouds of sanctuary
The fragrance of my salvation
gracing my thoughts once more-
How did I forget it?
That is where I want to be.
I call to the heavens, to the Light,
to my Redeemer-
"I cannot find the way out on my own
for I am blind to the colors of God
and deaf to the sound of guidance."
Metal shudders and gives way to wind
trees of razor-leaves buckling,
oil retreating
A transformation sweeps across this forest
unravelling in the way flowers blossom
Yellow crests the horizon like a golden crown-
glorious, O as glorious as the Son-
holding the earth in a warm embrace
as renewed, acceptable, pleasing.
This is where I want to remain.
YB 05 11/15
I was perusing through the poetry I had typed up, and found this one. Apparently, it was the second to last one I wrote before the short poem posted in May, and then I came up with the response-poem to Dayton's 'End of the Tunnel' in July. I hadn't realized my wellspring of writing had been so dry for so many months.... The kicker is that I'm unsure if I like this one from November, since it doesn't seem to flow so well. Always room for revisions?
Metal trees built up with jagged edges
and razor-blade leaves
as the sound of aged grinding gears
accompanies chimneys coughing smog
A shroud of oil begins to blanket the floor-
How did I come to this place?
So foreign and industrious a forest;
I can taste the rust in the air
and hear the metal groaning in the want of something more.
A twinge of familiarity-
I've been here before.
This isn't where I want to be.
I hold myself together vainly,
arms wrapped shoulder to shoulder
Stones whisper with itching ears,
desperate for the color of life
The weight of hollow metal is opressive
as it echoes the voices of my sin,
my faults,
my malignant thoughts
Oil seeps into my wounds to suffocate healing
The slick and sticky touch of where I've been.
This isn't where I want to be.
Turning yet blind to the path
with rocks, gears, wire
holding me down and blocking the way
My heartbeat ticking as a time-bomb-
eyes cast from this dangerous forest to the heavens
I can see rays of light
wrapped around velvety clouds of sanctuary
The fragrance of my salvation
gracing my thoughts once more-
How did I forget it?
That is where I want to be.
I call to the heavens, to the Light,
to my Redeemer-
"I cannot find the way out on my own
for I am blind to the colors of God
and deaf to the sound of guidance."
Metal shudders and gives way to wind
trees of razor-leaves buckling,
oil retreating
A transformation sweeps across this forest
unravelling in the way flowers blossom
Yellow crests the horizon like a golden crown-
glorious, O as glorious as the Son-
holding the earth in a warm embrace
as renewed, acceptable, pleasing.
This is where I want to remain.
YB 05 11/15
I was perusing through the poetry I had typed up, and found this one. Apparently, it was the second to last one I wrote before the short poem posted in May, and then I came up with the response-poem to Dayton's 'End of the Tunnel' in July. I hadn't realized my wellspring of writing had been so dry for so many months.... The kicker is that I'm unsure if I like this one from November, since it doesn't seem to flow so well. Always room for revisions?
Do you want fries with that?
Okay, so I know that I said that the next post would have some word-flair, but I just saw Super-Size Me with my friend Charity and I'd like to share some thoughts.
1. Although I pretty much ditched McD's because they changed their fries and their chicken nuggets to things that taste like the decendents of cardboard, it's official: I will never, never eat at McD's again unless I'm desperate.
2. I never knew how obese America was, nor how often we gravitate towards that which is truly bad for us. At least, not in the perspective of food. A man in the movie made a good point in saying that we are very quick to criticize people who smoke and tell them to stop because it's bad for them. Yet, when it comes to watching an obese person gorge themselves on food, we are not so quick to actually tell them they should stop eating what's bad for them and consider vegetables a healthy staple. Admitedly, I don't think I would ever say that to anyone, but I've told many of my friends they need to stop smoking... Perhaps part of the reason for this is that smoking doesn't just affect the smoker, but those around him. Eating horribly bad food only affects the person eating the food and not those around him. Are we just looking out for the smoker?
3. Children/teens in our country are totally ingrained and surrounded by food that is bad for them, and encouraged to eat it by the sheer accessibility of it. School cafeterias assume more than they should about a kid's eating habits and nutritional know-how.
4. Eating fast food every single day is going to kill your liver... and apparently your mojo as well. Go figure.
Conclusion:
Fast food is awful for you. Don't eat it unless you absolutely have no other choice.
I hope I can stick to that conclusion. I don't really eat a lot of fast food to begin with, but holy smokes, the movie made me never want to eat another processed chicken sandwich ever again.
1. Although I pretty much ditched McD's because they changed their fries and their chicken nuggets to things that taste like the decendents of cardboard, it's official: I will never, never eat at McD's again unless I'm desperate.
2. I never knew how obese America was, nor how often we gravitate towards that which is truly bad for us. At least, not in the perspective of food. A man in the movie made a good point in saying that we are very quick to criticize people who smoke and tell them to stop because it's bad for them. Yet, when it comes to watching an obese person gorge themselves on food, we are not so quick to actually tell them they should stop eating what's bad for them and consider vegetables a healthy staple. Admitedly, I don't think I would ever say that to anyone, but I've told many of my friends they need to stop smoking... Perhaps part of the reason for this is that smoking doesn't just affect the smoker, but those around him. Eating horribly bad food only affects the person eating the food and not those around him. Are we just looking out for the smoker?
3. Children/teens in our country are totally ingrained and surrounded by food that is bad for them, and encouraged to eat it by the sheer accessibility of it. School cafeterias assume more than they should about a kid's eating habits and nutritional know-how.
4. Eating fast food every single day is going to kill your liver... and apparently your mojo as well. Go figure.
Conclusion:
Fast food is awful for you. Don't eat it unless you absolutely have no other choice.
I hope I can stick to that conclusion. I don't really eat a lot of fast food to begin with, but holy smokes, the movie made me never want to eat another processed chicken sandwich ever again.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
She's Off to China
I promise that these posts will not happen very often, so bare with me. But, because I won't be seeing this girl for 11 months I figured that Barbara deserves a little more spotlight. I had breakfast with her this morning and drove her off to Carlisle... she's leaving next Wednesday... I can't believe it!By the way, I don't recommend driving and trying to take a photo at the same time.
One of the things we mentioned in the car ride was how crazy it is that people are doing things and going places right out of college... Not everyone I know is doing something right away, and there's not a thing wrong with that, but I would have never thought I'd have something to do. I thought I'd still be looking. And yet, that's not the case, and I'll be in Philly rubbing shoulders with art students. Barbara is going to China. Tony has moved to Philly. Heather is going to go to Indiana (as in, the state). Brian is moving out to State College. Other friends are going other places.... It's exciting and scary at the same time. It interests me the different places God puts people, and the different times. There is a time for everything, and a place, and a purpose. It'll be exciting to see how things roll out.-Y
P.S. Next post? Since it turns out that P is an amazing writer -- moreso than I thought before -- it makes me want to write. Perhaps I will get some poetry out of me.