Pulse

I am learning to love like God.

For a while it seemed like I did nothing but question God. I questioned His motives for me. I questioned why I struggle with certain particular sins while others have never even been tempted by that certain serpent. In the face of a very uncertain future, I had a lot of questions.

And I still do. I still have so many unanswered questions, as should all Christians. We should never have anything completely figured out. We should be like the children, Christ reminds us; open, trusting, abounding in awe and wonder.

But questions, without a pause for answers following them, are useless. That's what I was doing, and I think that's what a lot of Christians do. We are quick to question, to doubt, to test God. Yet where is the silence in the Christian faith? Is this a gift solely reserved for the Hindus and Buddhists? Hour upon hour of silent contemplative prayer, I witnessed much of this during my travels throughout Eastern religion. Where is that still, and most importantly, small voice?

When I tired of questions, I pooled them all into one. "God, can I have your heart? Not just to witness it on the cross, but to have it merge into mine, to take up residence within my chest?" Ok, so technically that's two questions but you understand my point. It can be so difficult as a Christian for me to fully wonder what God's heart is truly like. And why, upon, asking, am I not allowed to possess it. For if we seek, so there we should find right? Isn't the heart of God overflowing with love, with justice, with compassion and hope and beauty? Aren't we told this?

Then why is God holding this back from us?

I have always been a fan of good guitarists everywhere. I have always wanted to be that guy, the one on stage performing the 7 or 8 minute guitar solo. Like David Gilmour from Pink Floyd performing Comfortably Numb during Live at Pulse, for instance. I can see the look on his face when he plays. We all know the look. That moment when something greater steps down into the scene and takes over. When music grows and twists around the soul like a vine climbing a tree, merging into it, adding into it. I want to be in that scene.

I know that the only way to have a scene like that for myself, to experience it all, would be to have David Gilmour teach me that song exactly as he plays it note for note. He could give me his guitar, but we see how useless that would be. Sure, at first, I would be overwhelmed to hold it, to wonder at the potential it holds. Yet, a few minutes in, it would become painfully clear that I have no idea what I am doing. But practice makes perfect, as we've been taught our whole life, and I am certain that with Mr. Gilmour and enough time, I could play that song for myself. I could experience what he gets to experience. Not only that, once I learned every last bit of the song, I could expand on it, always remembering the notes that carry it. I could have that.

So I am learning to love like God.

I am learning to listen to the still small voice whenever I hear it. I am learning to be MADLY in love with the living God. I am learning to remember that God created the Earth and said it was GOOD, so good in fact the same soil I stand on will one day support His throne. And most importantly, I am learning just how much God loves people. God cares immensely about every last human being on the face of the earth. So if I want to love like God, and God loves everyone, then the solution is really simple.

Love my neighbors. Love my family. Love my friends. Love my coworkers. Love every customer that steps into my store. Love the people in my church. Love my enemies. Love those who have betrayed me. Love every person who denies the very name of God. Love every person I will never meet, and pray endless blessings upon every last one of them.

I am learning to love like God, and in that way, learning how to love God Himself, and learning how much God loves ME.

There are still questions, and thats OK. It is never going to be easy to do anything the way God does it. But God has told us we can be like him, just like him. He has faith in us, and that is SO empowering. He knows that we can play the song the way he does.

I just need to learn that next note.

A river and a bird

I recently discovered a park close to my house that has become a haven of sorts for any time I feel the need to connect to God and nature, which happens to be almost every day. Well, I should correct myself, since I owe the "discovery" to several friends of mine who pointed out the beautiful piece of land literally right around the corner from my place. It is comforting for me to have somewhere where I can head to almost any time I want, and upon arriving simply sit and listen. Listen to the water, open my ears to the songs of many species of birds, try in an instant to take it all in and let it all go.

There is one particular day in the park that speaks to me, a day that constantly arises from my memory, moving from the past to the present in an instant. Upon gazing at one part of the river, I noticed several small steps on the opposite bank, leading from the gravel walkway and into the river itself. I ventured to the steps, and sat upon one of the lowest seats, and set my eyes upon a spot where the river rushed past, over, and through several rocks. I allowed my mind, my entire train of thought, to move with the water, but remain upon that one spot. In that instant, I felt God speaking to me, and I in turn needed to speak back. This is what I wrote in my journal:

"Lord, in the massive torrent that rushes by, I feel every ounce of it in you, and you in it. Moving, coursing, pulsing, such is Nature and such is you, its beloved Creator"

I think the reason that human beings are so drawn to great bodies of water such as rivers, lakes, and oceans, is the depth of metaphorical teaching we can gain from them. When trying to consider the notion of an eternal God, and more so of eternity itself, we are left confused and speechless. Yet, God does the talking for us. In watching the river flow continuously and endlessly, I did not have to think of eternity, because I was glimpsing it with mortal eyes. God is moving, ALWAYS moving. His spirit is ALWAYS passing through us, and through the world around us. His passion, His grace, His love, has SO many places to be that we should count ourselves blessed that we are allowed to experience it. Such is the beauty of God, but still just a glimpse, for in that same moment God spoke to me in another way.

Upon hearing a call, my stare was stolen from the water and straight into the trees ahead of me. A cardinal, colored a shocking shade of red stood perched among a crowd of trees. While the water rushed by my feet, this bird stood still and looked intently in my direction. Oh wondrous perspective in its many forms! For God reminded me that although he is unwavering in his quest to move, He has his heart set upon us in the present moment. It is a difficult subject to comprehend, and I find it difficult to put into words. Sometimes, to me anyways, it feels like every incalculable notion of Christianity, every item that is discussed, thought over, debated upon, all these things are like a massive river that we cannot fully grasp.

Yet, haven't we all had those similar instances of incredible simplicity in our faith? Those moments when this great God, the God of the universe who created the heavens, and crafted every last corner of the Earth with His power and might, steps from the throne to share a moment with us. In those instances, while held firmly in his grasp, He reminds us what lies at the core of our faith: Love. We are reminded that God so loves us at all times. This love is so immense and so powerful that I am often drawn to tears upon a simply memory of God revealing it to me. We are given these moments so indeed they may be utilized by our memory. Our emotions are always changing, so as humans it can feel impossible to always be connected to God's love.

It feels as though we are trapped in a room where we are not meant to be. The room can be cold, or sometime a fire is lit in the corner and there is warmth. Sometimes we are alone, other times we are surrounded by friends and family. Sometimes we are bored, while other times we have too many distractions to even count. Yet in a moment, God can open the door to this room. If we sit and we wait, we will see the knob turn and then maybe it pops open just a crack. And then, gasp, the colors that lie outside! The light and the energy, the unwavering love that pours into the stale air of the room. Then, as quickly as it came, it is gone. But this time we are left knowing what lies waiting for us when we leave. We even begin to notice when some of it leaks in through a crack in the wall, or maybe a window is opened ever so slightly. We know when things are different in the room than before, because we have seen the glory of the other world, what exists outside of everything we comprehend. We are left with this precious memory to hold onto, to remind us always.

All this from a river and a bird, I know, its a stretch. But if I am to offer any sort of advice to people, something that has helped me immensely, write these moments down. Look deeply into what God is showing you. Cherish these moments until the day when you won't need them any more. I shudder in anticipation of this day.

Far Far Away

Inspired by a friend's recent ramblings on his blog, I have decided to return to my virtual soap box for some writing of my own.

Once again, as is the case several times a year, I am on vacation in Florida visiting my mother. I have traded rain, snow, and sub-freezing temperatures for a week in 70º+ weather. It's been calm, average, and ordinary here. Most of the day is spent laying down and watching satellite television for hours on end, interrupted by brief romps in the heated pool or trips to whatever local chain restaurant my mother has a coupon for. Yet through this monotonous routine, I have felt an old familiar feeling creeping up inside of me. It often begins in the stomach, churning its way into my bloodstream, until my whole body is chilled with its infection.

I don't quite have a name for it. It resembles the lack of color and life that depression embodies. Yet I also have the unnecessary worry and fear that comes along with anxiety. Or perhaps it could be labeled simply as boredom. Whatever it is, I don't like it.

While listening to a sermon that I missed past Sunday, I began to envision myself sitting in church around the people that have evolved from acquaintances, to friends, and eventually into family. Quite literally I see these people in my life as the body of Christ. Woven together by a spiritual flesh and blood, we share an unspoken connection more powerful than any tie on Earth. Sadly, as is often the case with human beings (myself included), I have lived unaware of what a blessing this family has been to me.

If anyone has ever lost a limb, or even severely injured themselves in any way, they can have a pretty exact idea of how I feel at the moment. Take a broken toe for instance. You will spend years unaware of just how much such a small body part helps you along. Break that toe, and suddenly your stride is off balance. Every step sends piercing pains through your foot, eventually spreading. Lacking the proper support, your legs begin to ache, and eventually your lower back. It's not until the toe is fully healed that you can go back to feeling your body as a whole.

This is reminiscent of what pains my heart while I am away in a distant state. While separated from my community, I am able to see more clearly just how amazing everyone in my life is. From this new perspective, I am able to see God's hands working so beautifully in my life. Each person is hand selected by God, chosen for exactly what they can offer me, and it turn what I can offer them. God's ultimate plan is to redeem every single soul on the face of the Earth. Sometimes, he does this through ground-rumbling miracles, like Moses and the burning bush. But the other 99% of the time, he uses human beings. By the wonder of the Holy Spirit, God is able to control our hearts and our tongues. He speaks to us in our greatest time of need not by a great booming voice atop a mountain, but by the gentle voice of a concerned friend. He speaks to us through prayers, through warm hugs, through home-cooked meals and late night conversations. Most of the time, when we are the ones with something to offer, we say we are following our hearts, and lift up our false humility. Let us not belittle the wonder the God brings through us.

I see here the life I could have lived without Jesus, and frankly it scares me. I see how easily Satan clouds the vision of the Lost. Only by stepping into the light are we truly able to see how the darkness compares. Thankfully, I have been blessed with the gift of perspective. I pray for the same gift for everyone in my life who hasn't experienced it. Until then, I can't wait for the reunion.

-Matty T

View from afar

This will be short, as a result of several things. I am on vacation at my mother's in Florida, I am about to go to bed, and I have had one too many Yuengling.

I am always troubled by just how much the strength of my faith relies on those around me and not on myself. This becomes strikingly clear whenever I venture out and away to some distant place. Lacking the support of my "church family"; my Christian friends who I often converse and fraternize with, I become lazy and apathetic towards my relationship with my Creator. It is as though this world I have created, this self-sustaining circle, is there merely to keep me afloat. Venturing outside of this saran-wrapped existence, I find the air too thin to breathe. Engaging in conversations with the self-proclaimed atheists I call my biological family, I begin to believe the words from their mouths. Seperate from any Christians, it becomes easy to believe I have been led to believe a lie. Somehow, this religious wool has been pulled over my eyes so deviously that I have failed to notice. Contrary to what my heart sings, I once could see, but now am blind.

And then it hits me as I stroll outdoors for an evening clove. A driveway, seperated into six seperate large concrete squares, meets in the middle and forms a cross before my eyes. You may count it as coincidence if you like, but in a world where it is realistic for a man to die and rise three days after the fact, there is no room for silly occurences such as these. It is a message that I feel inclined to share with all of you. This religion, this walk of faith that we call the Christian life, is everpresent. No matter the distance and time, both the physical and metaphysical makeup of this life is the same. It lies there before us; as simple and as solid as that driveway, as complex and beautiful as the trees and skie beyond it. Amen!

The Nature of Things

This afternoon I took it upon myself to take a stroll in the woods of a preserve just a few minutes down the street. It is a spot I used to once frequent with my father, a man who instilled in me a great love and appreciation for all things natural. The preserve surrounds the local junior high school, swinging around, behind, and continuing behind several neighborhoods. While the recent expansion of the school and its parking lot has encroached even more upon the woods, the majority of it remains untouched, and available to any one with a pair of feet and some time to enjoy the world. It is my belief that to look for an example of the greatness of the human mind, one must look beyond skyscrapers and bridges, and instead at signs marked "Nature Preserve".

My English class has been focusing on the work of several American Transcendentalist as of late. One of them is an author I have grown to appreciate over the past several years, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson and his colleagues’ love for Nature is apparent in almost every facet of their writing. To them the world represented a physical manifestation of the Divine. In Emerson's essay aptly titled "Nature", he refers to the language in which Nature speaks to Man. Every item we can find and catalogue in our minds in the realm of Nature is some representation of things unsaid. A rose in full bloom has come to symbolize love, a stream a picture of the continuity of the human spirit and of life itself. The best example for me is the ocean. Every time I visit the beach and rest upon soft sand, I am inexplicitly drawn to that point where the sea meets the horizon. For me, this represents so dearly the eternity which gives me such joy to enter into; that vast expanse, with regions so innumerable and time so unfathomable that I dare not comprehend it. Rather I choose to sit and stare, all the while marveling at what lies before me.

While I would not agree with everything the Transcendentalists held as firm beliefs, I would never discredit their idea that the natural world is a gift from the Creator; a mirror more treasured and more clear than has ever existed. This will undoubtedly spark a debate amongst Christians and Atheists alike. If God is so loving, then how can an earthquake happen? or a hurricane? The answer to many Christians is often to compare God to a punishing parent, someone reprimanding us for lives not lived for Him. They remind us that we are living in the Garden after the fall, so we must deal with the consequences. I would beg to differ with this view. While I walked in the woods today, I was strolling through Eden, and it helped to remember that it was I who was fallen, not Eden itself. I do not believe that any kind of natural disaster has been brought upon by Man, but rather increased in intensity, and turned from a blessing into a curse. Man will build a city underwater and then complain about flooding. Man will pump endless toxins into the sweet atmosphere, and then question why a storm fueled by heat was so intense. Man will place more importance on money than safety, and be ever so quick to point the finger at God. I pray that on one grand day, we will finally accept the consequences of our own actions.

To me, Nature is a thing not so much like a Mother, but something borrowed from the Eternal. It is a gift designed to enlighten every one of our senses. For sight, we have early morning skies and pitch black nights filled with crystalline orbs. For hearing, we have the wind as it rolls through the trees in the Winter, and the birds' concertos on a Spring day. For touch, we have cool grass on our backs, and the warm prickle of a desert cactus. For smell, we have the salt of the ocean and the sweet of an oily flower. For taste, we have the bite of a green pepper and the tang of a fresh melon. Such gifts abound outside our very front doors! Yet like all things borrowed, we must learn to eventually give these gifts back. We can enjoy them while we have them, categorize them in our minds and onto paper to remember them, but we must offer them back willingly. We often forget how blessed we are when we do this dutifully.

So I feel it important to state that we must never forget that the Serpent resides not in any tree found in the natural world, but in the Tree of Knowledge. When we begin to feel as if Nature is ours to control and dominant for no other means that our own wealth and greed, we are committing a most terrible offense to God. This is an offense I will not claim immunity from, for every time I pass a pond and see merely a pond I am just as guilty. Let us remember that which transcends all human thought and progress. For Nature began with one seed, and will exist in its virginal beauty until the last tree is thrown into the Fire. Let us cling to that which reminds of our destiny, and be thankful always for He who forged it.

Environmental Issues

First off, let me apologize for the hiatus I have taken from posting on this site. While I would love to blame this period of laziness on such things as my job, or my schoolwork, I know that the reality is that I have simply not been inspired. I have had several people request that I post something new, considering that the same post has been up for literally months now. The problem is, however, that I have turned such an insignificant thing as blogging into a serious matter. For me, these writings are permanent remnants of lucid thoughts and passionate emotions, laid out meticulously into my own digital domain for the masses to feast their eyes upon. To enter into such an endeavor with only lackluster productions is simply not an option. I realize that this is taking things way too far, and that I am being quite liberal when I refer to my audience as "the masses", but it is still the state of mind I find myself situated in.

So, I spent last weekend in the great city of New York. Upon first arriving in the simple, quiet section of Brooklyn called 'Bay Ridge', I found myself mystified that such a peaceful atmosphere could exist within such a close proximity to that restless metropolis. We proceeded to take the bus into the city, at which point I allowed my eyes to absorb as much as they could. Every image of New York I could conjure up from movies, television shows, pictures, and dubious news footage began to roll by inside my head, like an elementary school projector. I attempted to compare the images side by side. My inability to find a proper match left me feeling like I was in a foreign land. As the night rolled on, I chalked this up to elevated expectations, and a trip to Key Bar, followed by some legendary pizza was in order.

The following day, we did what any dutiful American citizen does in New York, we shopped. It was then that New York felt like New York to me. Walking past countless blocks, countless stores, countless people, that was New York. We saw most of the legendary sites in that one day, including Times Square, which I would now explain to people is some sort of giant advertisement which one can step into. We went to Ground Zero, which is a giant empty block. Somehow, seeing nothing at all in this city full of giants was the scariest thing about it. Looking up, I imagined how the buildings must have appeared when they stood at their full height. Trust me, this is not something one should spend an extended amount of time thinking about.

I had grand plans of all I would do in the city, but had failed to take into account the massive size of Manhattan alone, although I had been warned of this prior to the trip by pretty much everyone. Trust me, if you have never been there, you cannot fully comprehend just how much ground there is to cover.

Now, on to the highlight of the trip. Sunday, my day to leave, should have been filled with regret over what I could have done, or for not planning to stay longer. Instead, I entered His courts with praise. Brooklyn Tabernacle is simply amazing. It is easy to become wrapped up in the architecture alone, the beautiful old playhouse covered in marble staircases, hand-painted murals, and an exquisite dome ceiling. All these wonders, all the riches, however, are but mere rubble compared to the passion and love evoked by the church-goers. The worship, once started, will roll on unceasingly for hours on end. I glanced at one point during a song and saw a group of young guys dancing, twisting and flipping their bodies in revery. I sang louder than ever before, clapped harder than I ever had. The joy is infectious, it's quite easy to get swept up. I was in such awe of the love and thanks these people showed Christ.

It led me to wonder why such joy is often lacking in my own church, not to mention in my own life. I believe it all depends on how much you have to be thankful for. In reality, we should all exhibit the same level of gratitude for all He has done. Sadly, this is often not the case. Living in a quite, rural suburban town is not a life full of danger and risk. I have more money than I need to live comfortably. I accept the fact that my streets are safer than the majority of those in the world. So when I enter my church, every Sunday, there is usually the same level of thanks. Unless some special circumstance comes up during the week, it is hard for me to evoke the sort of passion I feel I should exhibit. This shows me how true it is that wealth, though seemingly a blessing, is often more of a curse. When we have more money than we need, we begin to depend more on ourselves than on God. Take away money, take away safety, and you have true thanks. This is the passion I felt at BT.

Walking around Brooklyn, or even Manhattan, I felt so much more thankful that I had a loving God to guide and protect me through every day. This emotion was not brought about by any real crime or danger, but more by the state of the majority of people in the city. To see so many people wrapped up in themselves, in their money, and in their image, helped me to remember why I should be thankful that my value was settled on the cross. I can not imagine how much this feeling would be magnified if I was forced to walk the most dangerous of streets day in and day out. I guess I might possibly be that man dancing in the middle of church. Or perhaps I would be the woman behind me who planted a sweet kiss on my cheek, crossing not only the boundaries of race, but of society itself. To offer love and friendship up to anyone anonymously, this is probably the best gift that Christ gives us.

So how do I learn from the experience? Should I pack up all my belongings and move to the Big Apple? Should I sell all my possessions and live on the streets? It becomes obvious that none of these will come close to helping my present lack of gratitude. The only thing I can give to God that will please him, that will be the best offering of my thanks and praise, is every last bit of my being. I must offer my body, and all of its visceral complications, so He may heal my many wounds. I must offer my mind, that He may impart me with His glorious wisdom. I must offer my worldly heart, the one that has been taught that some love comes with a price, so that He may replace it with one sacred, swollen with all it has to offer. Lastly, most importantly, I must offer up my soul. Not only the joyous and brilliant rooms I have spent many a nights resting in, but also those long forgotten areas left locked and boarded up for years. This must be done so that He may open new doors and let His glorious light shine in upon them. Spring cleaning at its best.

Fear not

As I sit down and think about where I am at in my walk of faith, and what ramifications that has on me and those around me, my mind often wanders to the body of Christianity as a whole. While it would be a mistake for me to ever assume that I have ascertained the one and only true way of viewing Christianity, I think it is a natural inclination for a person of any religious belief (or even a follower of a mere philosophical idea), to often feel that those around them have somehow “got it all wrong”. This is a problem I struggle with pertaining to many aspects of my life. Although, I think it is always important to share and debate ones beliefs in an open forum. I believe this allows others to find both the faults, and weaknesses in their opinions. It is when we decide that our opinions are infallible, and our arguments indestructible, that we go from being decent human beings concerned for the well-being of our fellow men, to nothing more than intolerant children. I hope that the essays and ideas I post here never offend anyone, for that is never my intention. If anyone ever has an issue with something I write about, you can always feel free to email me using the link to the left. Write what you please, because I would be more offended by someone who felt they could not honestly debate with me, than I would with someone throwing virtual insults my way.

Now, with that out of the way, I shall move to the topic of tonight’s post

As Americans, we spend a fair amount of time bearing witness to terrible things. And, if like most Americans, you watch the evening news, than at least an hour of your night is devoted to this act. Robbery, rape, vandalism, an abandoned baby, murder/suicide, bombing, disease, epidemic; these words cause us grief, but for the anchormen and their colleagues, in their sharp ties and finely pressed suits, they mean ratings. We live in a society where we are enthralled by bad news. We remember all the details from the television news, so that we can talk all about them the next day at work. “Did you hear about that woman who got killed?” you hear someone inquire. “Can you believe it?” they ask. Television news, tabloids, newspapers, talk radio; all these things are designed for one thing: to entertain us. Yet, look under all of it, and there is always a recurring theme.

Fear. It is this fear that brings us back to the dulling rays of our living room boxes. This fear keeps us in our homes, watching ads for alcohol and botox when we should be enjoying time with our families. This fear brings us to giant conglomerate stores where we purchase useless items that we will never need. We justify this frivolous spending with the notion that we will somehow become safer. The honest answer, however, is this: We are as safe as we will ever be, right here and right now.

"Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened."- 1st Peter 3:14

I think it is safe to say that the thing we most often fear, the thing that drives us to make so many wrong decisions, is death. We are raised from very early on in life to fear death. This isn’t necessarily bad, because as creatures of this world, we have an inclination to want to stay alive. Yet, there is a large difference between loving the life that God has blessed us with, and fearing our inevitable death. We must look at our deaths not only as the end of our time here, but also as the beginning of our lives in places unseen, places unreachable by our bodies and minds. The destination of our souls is so magnificent, so unfathomable, that we can only hope to describe it with the word eternal. That is the great journey; when we make the leap from lands of green and brown, ascend past the great looming sky, and enter into our eternity. Why then do we fear? Why do we live our whole lives with the notion that we must fear the day they end?

Imagine Earth, or I shall call it Mother Earth for this analogy, imagine it is a womb. We spend 9 months (give or take) suspended in the warm nourishment of our mothers’ wombs. Just as these months of unconsciousness pale in comparison to our first memories, to those days when shapes and sounds were first discovered in their untainted beauty, so are the days on our planet when compared to the eternity we shall spend released from it. Yet, this incubation time is incredibly crucial. We are here, just as in the womb, so that we may have this time to develop ourselves. We must form the limbs, organs, and flesh of our faith. This, however, will always take time.We must be ready to accept when He decides that we are full enough to be in His presence. There is no set amount of time for this, no 9 months. This period of growth will end only by the hands of Him. To rebel against this, to take matters into our own hands, such as with suicide, is a mistake with permanent effects. How dangerous it is for a baby to be born after only a few months. How much more disastrous it is for us to be born into eternity unprepared.

It is with great success that Satan has tricked us into living our lives by way of our fear, and not our love. Death has moved from being a quintessential part of life, to something we should and can avoid. We must allow ourselves to be rid of this plague, this nagging fear. Until then, keep your hearts always towards the day when we will remove our eyes from the cold hard ground, and direct them towards the artistry and eternity of the heavens above.