Hoster boy

A good soundtrack has been running through my head all day.  Yesterday I hummed a song and it was the next one they played on the radio, and today it happened again.

I must use my powers for good.

Tonight I am hosting a New Year's Eve party for the first time.  I am excited!  Not just because people are coming over, although that is nice, but more because of what it means.  It means that I live somewhere that can support such a gathering.  Some place that is warm and comfortable and inviting that people want to come to.  It means I'm succeeding in one of my goals.

It is recursively lame to write about not knowing what to write about... I have much to do, anyway.  So I better!  Go do it!  Yeah.

"2009, you were a great year. The best one yet. But I have a feeling 2010 is about to steal your thunder. Don't worry, I'll love you both equally, just in different ways."

-J

In the age of chaos

A friend who I respect tremendously on spiritual matters proposed something to me quite audacious a few months ago, and it's been percolating in my head ever since.  He suggested an interesting interpretation of courtship, one that did not include physical intimacy.  On the surface it sounded ludicrous, but this is someone who I hold in a high enough opinion that I do not treat his ideas casually.  I decided to think about it.
Of course unmarried couples should not sleep together.  This is something pretty much all Christians can agree on.  There's about twenty good reasons I can think of off the top of my head, which means there's a hundred and twenty more that don't even occur to me...  It's something I've wanted to write on, given how my position on premarital celibacy has been so totally altered by the Holy Spirit.  What my friend offered, though, was sort of a thought experiment that traveled down the path further.  So what if a couple actually did save all intimacy for marriage?  What if their wedding kiss was actually their first kiss?
Like I noted, it sounded crazy to me at first.  I have noticed something, though: whenever I see something that is widely accepted and encouraged by American culture, and I imagine what the exact opposite of that thing would be, more often than not what I have imagined can be found somewhere in the Bible.  Obedience to parents, submission to God, devotion to truth even when it appears it is against one's self-interest... these are not things celebrated or given approval by the society surrounding us.  Quite the contrary.  Why then do we accept the current doctrine of courtship?  A Christian marriage is not governed by the same insight or heading in the same direction as an American marriage.  But I've always assumed that it's okay for it to look just like one.  I never thought about it.  Physical intimacy, within the holy covenant of marriage, is both a gift from God and a celebration.  Mentally I narrow the definition of "intimacy" to specifics, but there's no reason why that should be.  Your wife is the one you may touch, and should, and no other.  The one you may kiss, and should.  That is true.
I'm still not really sure how I feel about it.  It's such a powerful idea that I can't put it down for now.  

-J

Counter intelligence

Like the mercury in a barometer, I rise in response to the level of atmospheric pressure surrounding me.  Work had me come in yesterday, in contrast to the past two years.  It's a good sign; people want our sandwiches enough that Rich has decided to run with a skeleton crew this week instead of hibernating until January like usual.  Monday there was apparently some big order because it was explained to me that after I dropped off a couple lunches, I would then come back and run the front end of the shop while Rich and his son were out delivering.  
Working the counter freaks me out a bit.  I'm not bad at it, I'm just afraid I'll make a mistake and lose a customer.  I had to answer the phone too, which is even more nerve wracking because our connection isn't great.  Even at the best of times I suffer from kakorrhaphio-lalio-xenophobia which is the fear that someone will talk to me in a language that is clearly English but with an accent so thick that I will not be able to understand them.  Things I am comfortable with: smalltalk; high-pressure situations.  Things I fail at in absolute terms: high-pressure smalltalk.  Seriously, if there is a consequence for not doing well, my brain will spontaneously generate the dumbest sentences Western civilization.
(Brief example)
HER: It is nice to meet you, young man who is dating my daughter.
ME: I AM THE KING OF THE BANANA-PEOPLE.
HER: I understand that you work at the church.
ME: Females should be federally licensed and monitored. 

And so on.
It went okay.  I'd like another swing at it, now that I've at least survived one day.  I like the feeling of growing outside myself.  Pat is my boss' wife, of many years, and if I'm ever old and married I'd like it to be to someone like her.  She's got this lovely gray hair, close-cropped and sensible and attractive, and she wears a skirt under her apron most every day.  She gets bored in the kitchen some days, and will just start baking things to keep herself busy.  It's good to be around on those afternoons.  She's very sweet and always willing to help me out with cooking questions; yesterday she gave me a copy of the pie crust recipe she personally uses, which was pretty amazing.  She has a way of doing things, though, and that's just the way that they're done.  She doesn't like saying "no" directly, but she absolutely refused to make a sandwich for a customer yesterday using a wrap instead of bread.  No.  That won't be possible.  I asked her about substituting tofu in a dish once and she gave me an unnerving look.  "I don't use tofu.  Ever."
She's awesome.

-J

Lift those heavy eyelids

I've never wanted to have a child, and when people ask me "whyzzat?" I've said that I don't have the biochemical desire, which is true.  But in addition to that, I've pointed out "Well, I'm not mature / patient / disciplined enough".  Last night I realized that's not really an excuse so much as a complete admission of guilt.  I've noted before that it is a good thing to be mature enough to be in a romantic relationship, regardless of whether or not a relationship is something God provides.  It would be kind of stupid to get off the logical train there.  
For some reason cognitive dissonance set in and I never took it any further.  Because a lot of reasons.  Which are all dumb.  So the moral of the story is that even if I never end up having a child, developing the qualities necessary for parenting is not an optional goal.  One can say "I choose not to reproduce" (or choose not not to), and that's totally okay, but do not try to absolve oneself of the choice through lame, lame self-disqualification.  That's so lame.  Don't do that, me.

-J

Decrastination

I'm writing now, because there's a pretty good chance that if I put it off until later, I'll forget.
Now: thinking of something to say.

Hummm.

Things You Can Write And By You I Mean Me:

-Self-reflective prose soliloquy
-Humorous or otherwise notable anecdote
-Poetry
-List of some sort
-Exploratory fiction
-A well-crafted sentence or two painting a larger concept
-This

-J

winding down

The iPod that is playing through the church speakers is making my teeth grind. I'm not sure I've ever head a mix of Christmas music I liked less than this one. But that's the last complaint I'm making tonight, or about tonight. I will remember the good, and the "otherwise" is meaningless, and past.
The church is slowly emptying after service. I can still see quite a bit of dessert on the table from up here in the booth. It has been a very long time since I stood in line to take communion. They always leave some on the band table behind the curtain, and I find a quiet spot alone back there in the evenings.
I like my solitude. Tonight I'm going to go home after turning all the lights and computers off here, and I'll just be by myself. I would share it with the right person, but the list of right people is small; I could count them on one hand. Because I want to relax tonight, and be myself, and not feel like I have to put on any mask of family or function... it's not many people who I can really feel peaceful with.
Every chair was full tonight. There's still a crowd now, half an hour after.
I'm glad they all came. I'll be glad to be home.

-J

Merry Christmas eve eve day.

It is such a gorgeous day.  The sun was shining and there was blue sky showing through fluffy white clouds.  Cold but not chilly.  I went to work today, which was nice.  I get a little weird if I have too much time off... we had an encouraging number of delivery orders, and the storefront seemed busy.  I guess they let me have the day off yesterday, and gave Rod the day off today.  Rich told me they won't need me tomorrow, so the next time I'll be in will be January 4th.  At six AM, to help with the biggest order I've ever seen.  It'll be great, just as long as I can get someone else to lock up the audio gear after church the evening of the 3rd.
On the tenth day of Christmas, Sugee's Box Lunch Company gave to me:
10 days a-breaking
9 rolls a-sticky
83 cents and 24 dollars (in tips)
7 sugar cookies
6-layer sandwich
A FIVE POUND CALZONE (maybe not actually five pounds but it is big.  I'm going to eat it so much.)
4 hours of work
3 gingerbread men
2 many sweets
And a paycheck signed "From Sugee's"

I feel great.  I feel liked and appreciated and cared for.  I feel like God loves me very much.  I know it's true all the time, but it's a little closer to mind with a mouth full of ham and swiss on rye from a kitchen I'm proud to work in.  

-J 

Holiday

Brian called me from work a few minutes ago, and told me to stay home.  There weren't enough orders to justify me coming in today.  I like my job, and I like doing it, and I like getting paid for it.  I also like staying home, though.
I asked a friend who is married what the biggest difference was about that new state of life.  He told me it was that when you're married, and you spend two hours idly surfing the internet trying to find some song lyric that you only half-remember, there is another human being around to look at you in such a way that you realize all the twenty ways you could have better used that time.  He and his wife had dubbed it "crumbing out".  It was to be avoided.  It made me laugh because it's true... I excuse the wasting of time an awful lot when it's just me holding me accountable.  So hopefully no crumbing out today.  The Lord knows that I have needs, and He provides for me.  Therefore when he provides me a break from work, I should honor Him in that too.  For the record, responsible napping counts.  We must be good stewards of ourselves as much as anything else.
Brian is the dispatcher at Sugee's Box Lunch Company.  He's worked there for over twenty years.  He curses a lot under his breath when it's busy, and he knows pretty much every street in King County.  "So go south on 140th until just after you pass Bel-Red, then it's the next driveway on your left, immediately, across from 24-hour fitness.  You'll have to drive all the way to the back of the office complex over a few speed bumps and then it's around to your right.  It's secured so you have to push a doorbell and they'll let you in."  Every now and then I manage to say something that cracks him up, which is a good feeling because I worry that he gets so stressed out.
I reported to him about my last delivery of the day, yesterday.  "So, that lady who called from Eastside Skincare was actually from The Little School."
"Oh," he said, "Ellen, right.  I thought I recognized the name,"
"Yeah, she was there getting a treatment.  The owner was there and Ellen I guess had been telling her about us because she wanted a sandwich.  She asked if she could just tell her order to me.  'It'll be faster if you call in,' I told her.  'I don't have time for that!' she insists.  So I go 'Well... I could call them.' and she says 'Yeah, okay do that'.  So that was that weird phone call you got."
The phone call in question was me trying to dictate an order that was sort of being half shouted from right next to me by someone reading a menu and having trouble making up their mind, but still in a terrible hurry. 
"So I came back here and got the sandwich and brought it to her, and she asks me 'how much is it?' and I tell her '$10.17', and she pulls out eleven dollars and looks at it in a concentrating way then adds one, and then takes one back, and then asks Ellen her client 'Will eleven dollars cover that?'"
Ellen told her to give me twelve.

-J

That night

That night had two best parts.  The first was when I was holding your hand, and you let go a little, and I wasn't quite sure why until you interlaced your fingers with mine.  That was the best part.  The second was laughing together like hyenas in my car.
When I kissed your hand and you rolled your eyes a little and said "c'mere" and held me close... that was the best part too.

-J

Tell her to find me an acre of land

The life of a Christian is an estuary.

-J

Love Letters from the Skeleton Kingdom of the Moon - Part 1

Cable sat with his back to the door. The fluorescent lights shone dully off of the white wall tiles. Idly, the detective reached out and gathered up some papers with his right hand. He stacked them, put a new one on top, and then casually disregarded them back onto the counter from where they had been scooped. One fell into the wash basin and droplets of water immediately discolored the black typewriter text. Cable fished it out and examined it; a statement of intent to seize his office. The date on the top was now blurred, but the envelope it had been sealed in had arrived six months ago. The letter was not particularly civil in tone. A less civil letter had arrived two months after that, and two months later some men came by who were so uncivil they might actually have been described as "impolite".
Cable rocked left, and then right, then left in his office chair, rolling it gently across the linoleum floor. The mirror to his right needed cleaning. He made a mental note to probably do absolutely nothing about it. The globe-shaped lightbulbs above the glass hurt his retinas to look at. Three of them had burned out, the last just this morning. On-off-on-on-off-on-off. "Just like life," Cable thought to himself. The door opened and someone wearing high heels walked in. "You have the wrong door," said Cable, without turning around. "Either that, or you're dyslexic and trying to find the "moor s'nem"."
"I never believed much in propriety," replied a nonchalant contralto voice. Cable rotated his chair around.
"Well I never believed much in Santa Claus," he offered, "but that doesn't mean I went around spoiling it for everyone else." The woman was of medium height and slender build, in her right hand she held a brown alligator-skin briefcase. She was wearing a khaki suit jacket and skirt, with a white blouse and a hat off to one side over her delicately ringed blonde hair. A lacy white veil descended over the top half of her angelic face, behind it heavy lashes and cool blue eyes. The bathroom's garish fluorescent light destroyed the look completely.
"You are Cable Meridian?" she asked. She offered up her left hand, in it a piece of paper which had until a moment ago been taped to the outside of the door. It read, "Meridian Investigative Agency" in black sharpie. Up until two months ago it had instead been taped to the door of a very nice office where Cable had conducted his business. Times had changed.
"I hope you're paying well," Cable said with lids half closed. "Scotch tape doesn't come free."  
"If it's your sign you're worried about, let me assuage you," she lilted invitingly. She set down the briefcase on the washroom counter and opened it. Click, click. From inside she produced a handsome brass rectangle, custom engraved with Cable's name and occupation. The detective leaned forward in his chair and straightened his fedora.
"So you're not here by mistake," he stated.
"You were recommended to me by an acquaintance," she said with a vague smile.  "My name is Verity September Jones.  Do you accept cases dealing with zombies?"
"Well..." said Cable.  He gave her another eyeing.  From behind the walls a drip echoed through the small hotel washroom. "I've never turned one down."

-J

They lied to us through song

Things which are not true:
*Love is all you need (The Beatles)
*Love will tear us apart (Joy Division)
*If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss (Betty Everett)

Something like 80 of the top 100 songs of the last fifty years have been about love.  You have to be careful; these people cannot be trusted.

-J

With flowers of winter

The Lord hears our prayer, and I am happy.  After nine months Christopher was offered a job.  The church may have found a new building.  I am blessed beyond measure.  And these things have yet to resolve... Christopher's job offer is demanding, and he may have to decline if certain matters cannot be flexible.  An acceptable contract for the building Mars Hill has made a offer on may not materialize.  And I, in the midst of my warmth, must be circumspect; God's plans are trump.  I do not yet know how things will end.  I have my hope.
Time spent in prayer is never wasted.  No matter what, God hears us.  I think that's enough.  That He answers too is something wholly remarkable.

-J

Service sector

It's easy to feel disconnected on this side of the lake. "Central" seems like some nebulous movie bureaucracy, every now and then sending someone over to meddle. Of course it is a lie. Central Ops serves our church with great care and sacrifice. I forget that they also serve nine other campuses and their own people. I've been confronted recently with my own pride, and of course I didn't want to listen. I cannot hold out for long against truth, though. Praise the Lord.Productions is a ministry especially prone to feeling disconnected.  We spend church services apart from others, it often seems like nobody understands what we do or the work required to accomplish things.  It is good to take pride in one's work, but the peril I face is letting my work become my pride.  I feel like I need to defend my volunteers from oppression by the rest of the church.  I feel like I deserve to be informed of things, consulted for my valuable opinion.  Of course it is a lie.  We are all servants, in a competition to be the lowest brick in the wall; bearing the most weight, being the least self-interested.I was not hired to be a champion or a guru.  Mars Hill employs me to be an implementor.  My contract reads "and other tasks as necessary", which means sometimes my job is defined as "be inconvenienced".  
"For I say, through the grace that was given me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think as to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to each man a measure of faith." [Rom 12:3]  My self-worth stems solely, exclusively, out of my relationship with God.  Deriving self-worth from any other source is to declare God insufficient.  It's idolatry.  I have a terrible practice of making passive-aggressive comments to people totally unrelated to the issue which vexes me, and I know the reason I do it is so they can say "Wow how annoying" and therefore justify me.  It's sin.  Of course it is a lie.  Justification comes from God too.  I don't make snarky passive-aggressive remarks to the Lord, and why?  Because I know he won't justify me, but rather he'll instruct me.  Which involves knocking me off my throne and back into my place.  And my human nature doesn't want that.
But the Holy Spirit in me does.  I yearn after the Lord.  In my heart I love Jesus far too much to try to be my own king.  I am glad there are people around me to confront me when they see my stray.  This is the way in which service sanctifies us.  Not that the one who serves is superior; the one who serves has his sin revealed more fully.  The connection to be concerned with is my connection to God.  He led me here, as well as everybody else in the body, and He will be faithful to complete the good work He began in us.  Everything else is just working out the specifics.  And how can I ever be proud or self-righteous in the face of that?

-J

Solomon's key

At community group last night we reviewed a little of the history of King David. God describes David as "a man after My own heart, who shall fulfill all My will." In the chronicles of the kings all the rest of Israel's rulers are compared to David. That's pretty serious, and I never really understood it since David was guilty of adultery and conspiracy and murder. He killed a man to cover up the fact that he had impregnated that man's wife. I never got how God could give such a glowing review to someone who had done such a hideous thing. It's actually bothered me for a long time, although I didn't realize it. I feel like the pieces finally came together, though.
In Luke, Jesus said that he had been praying for Simon Peter. Jesus Christ, praying to God the Father, and just for Simon the fisherman. "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers." [Luke 22:31-32]
That your faith may not fail. Jesus already knows that Peter is going to deny him, deny even knowing him. He is praying for Peter's repentance on the other side of failure. And that's what made David a man after God's own heart - not that he was sinless! That his repentance was always true, and complete, and swift on the heels of conviction. That we repent is paramount to God, not that we don't sin. God, like Jesus knew of Peter, knows we will deny Him. But when the Holy Spirit pricks our heart, we must run to him and not away. That is the act of a repentant heart.
"From that time Jesus began to preach and to say, Repent! For the kingdom of Heaven is at hand." [Mat 4:17]
You ever want to hear a sermon delivered by God? There it is. Repent.

Lately I've been splitting linguistic hairs, and I don't even know why. I don't mean to. I'm sorry. Like when you asked if you could help me on Wednesday night and I just said something stupid instead of "Thank you, that is really nice of you" like I should have done. I felt bad about it, because I don't even know why I said it. I imagine you'll say 'it's a small thing', and you are right, but small is not the same as meaningless. <--- there, see, I did it again. But that difference does matter, so I apologize to you, and I will turn again.

-J

Reptile house

I was born under an unlikely sign.  When you spin a top, it does not spin exactly straight, but rather the upper end of it traces a circle in the air.  This type of movement is called 'precession', and may be found in all spinning bodies, the Earth included.  Because of this phenomenon, which star is our "north star" gradually alters - in another few thousand years Polaris will no longer be usable as a fixed reference.  It also has some impact on the field of astrology.
One's birth sign is determined by drawing a line from the Earth through the sun and out into space.  Whatever constellation this line intersects with is the sign you were born under.  The sun is pretty far away, so the determinations remain mostly constant.  Mostly.  Due to the precession of the Earth there is now, briefly, a thirteenth astrological sign.  Which I was born under.
I don't know much about Ophiuchus, except he was a dude that held a snake.  But that's alright, I guess.  I've always liked The Crocodile Hunter.  And if I was a Harry Potter character I'd be in Slytheryn for sure.  So maybe there is something to it.
I don't believe the stars have any influence on our lives... the people who drew constellations to make sense of the heavens could not have guessed the vast distances between the tiny points of light they watched dance through the year.  They did not consider that apparent closeness might only be relative: the star Tabit, in Orion, is twenty-six light years away; right next to it by our view is Pi4 Orionis - twelve hundred light years further.

I like snakes.  The poison ones are scary, but the rest are cool.  Like, I wouldn't mind holding one, I mean.  And it feels sort of secret cool to know that I was born under some weird snake sign.  Astrology is silly, and deriving personal significance because of the movement of the Earth around the sun is silly.   Still, I am glad I'm not a "Cancer".  

-J

4x7

Tomorrow is my birthday, but for the first time in many Decembers I don't feel like writing a year-in-review.  My whole life revolved on the axis of last June; not just my situation or goals, but by perception.  Reminiscing seems so uninteresting.  I think there are a lot of components working together, but all I can focus on is how amazing the things ahead of me are.
For the first time in my life I'm looking forward to the future more than the past.
You won't even believe how great it will be.

-J

Meter running

I once met a psychic named Beth
Who told me the date of my death
'Twas two weeks ago
Which just goes to show
Her crystals were probably meth

-J

Bringing it all back home

A kiss > A Hershey's Kiss > KISS > Henry Kissinger

- J

Chapter Three

"Why do cats like telling stories so much?" I asked Benjamin one day. He looked at me, surprised.
"I will never cease to be amazed at what you people don't know," he told me. "Cats were the first storytellers. Humans learned it from us." This made me wrinkle my nose in skepticism.
"Storytelling is intuitive," I retorted. "It's natural to tell stories."
"It's natural to hunt," he rebutted, crouching low to investigate a grasshopper, "but you still have to teach kittens how to do it. Look, I'm not saying humans are bad at storytelling. Quite to the contrary, you've done some very inventive things with the medium. But the fact remains, it is a tradition originated by cats."
I dropped the subject, and had actually forgotten about it two evenings later when Benjamin came around the house. I hadn't seen him in the meantime and asked him what he had been up to.
"No time for that, come quickly," he said. His tone was friendly but insistent, so I threw on a jacket and followed him off into the orchard. Benjamin was kind enough to slow his pace for me, but it was still difficult to keep up with him in the murky twilight. His velvety gray fur all but disappeared amid the tall grass and looming trees. Soon we had left my grandparents' land and now I followed him out through unfamiliar rows of peach and apricot. The trees seemed to become steadily larger as we went, and soon they towered over my head. I had no idea where we were. Benjamin seemed to know exactly where he was going, though, and I trusted him enough to put worry aside. We must have traveled in this way, half-hiking, half-jogging for ten or twenty minutes before he finally stopped. My eyes were straining to make out his shape in the near-darkness and I was exhausted from the trip. I have never been particularly physical, and my endurance especially leaves much to be desired. I collapsed on the grass and leaned back against a rough tree trunk, the night dew soaking through my jeans.
"I'm sorry to have dragged you all the way out here, but theres a storyteller passing through the area and I doubt you'd ever get a chance to meet her otherwise.
"I thought all cats were storytellers," I said, not really caring at this point that it was sort of a rude thing to say, especially after Benjamin had gone to the effort of trying to introduce us. He was gracious enough to let it slide.
"All cats are storytellers, but just as some cats are better hunters than others, some cats are better at telling stories." This made good sense. "She's called Hermia, she's pretty famous. Stay here," he told me, "I'm going to tell the gathering that I've brought a... guest."  I smiled at the way he finished.
I barely even saw him move before he vanished into the pitch and I was left by myself. It was summer still, but the night was unusually cold. The moon was smothered under a thick blanket of clouds, but I thought I could see the steam of my breath. I pulled my jacket tight around me and covered my hands in its folds.
After a short time I looked up out of instinct to a shape emerging from off to my right. I thought it was Benjamin at first, but the voice which ordered, "Follow me," was a stranger's. I got up and followed.
Within a minute, maybe two, I entered a clearing.  The ground was rough, with tough patches of grass working up through the hard soil.  Trees ringed us, and within the circle they made was echoed a second one of perhaps a dozen cats.  They did not seemed concerned by my entrance; glancing over lazily before attending to a paw that needed grooming.  Cats are always like that.  "Sst," I heard a voice whisper softly.  I looked up to where it had come from and saw Benjamin lying on a thick tree branch near my head.  "Sit here," he said under his breath.  
As I took my seat beneath him, I began to pick out the shapes of more cats, both in the trees and on the ground around us.  I estimated about twenty, but it was hard to tell.  They did not speak, and so neither did I, all of us waiting for some cue.  Finally a black, slender cat made her way out of the trees and walked idly into the center of the glade.  We had been passively quiet, but the silence became active.  Just the wind could be heard, carrying the ever-present chorus of the crickets.

Last call

Almost let today get away from me... it's only been a week.  Can't falter now.
Last night I dreamed I was a werewolf, teaming up with a vampire and a skeleton to explore a mysterious dungeon.  I have to say, that is quite a bit more like it.

___

I'm still learning what it means to be selfless. It's not intuitive yet... I have to think about it. I have to work it out, like a puzzle box with my true soul inside. I don't imagine I am special in this. We are all of us still in progress.
It's so amazing when I reach it; the humbling power of it. I learned about it watching Pastor Mark preach through the Song of Solomon last year. The ideas were so audacious, truth I had never heard before... ideas that were so primal that they preceded instinct.
Relationships as they are taught by the world are inherently selfish. 'No, no', the married man says, and even this rarely: 'if she came to me and asked me to change something, I'd do it'. Selfish. That you would make her risk rejection, or you becoming defensive, or countering with your own criticism. The Christian man does not wait in spiritual cowardice for his wife to find the courage to come to him; he pursues her bravely. He seeks her, "Please finish for me the following sentence - 'I am attracted to you, but I would be more attracted to you if...'". The power and dignity in those words... And he does this not once in a lifetime, but once every three months. And then he carries it out. Not because he is her slave, because he loves Jesus more than her. His happiness comes through obedience to God, which means loving her as commissioned by God, through the enabling power of the Holy Spirit.  He trusts that she will not hoard her happiness selfishly, but that likewise loving Christ more than him, she will in the same way lay herself out. It's not even about 'fair'.  God's love for us teaches that fairness is not a necessity for our relationships. The Christian man knows that pursuing her happiness will ultimately accomplish his own. It is the only place where true intimacy exists. Vulnerable. Selfless. 

- J

Down on record

That dream was no good.  Who do I speak with to demand my sleep back?

Still Good:
1) Quiche.  Quiche is brill because you can eat it for any meal of the day.  It's good hot out of the oven and still is reasonable if reheated in the microwave.  Fills you up with no sugar crash later.  I will continue to petition Oslo for an introduction of a 'food' category to the Nobel awards.

2) Hot showers.  I spent the last two years living in a house with four other guys.  Hot showers were planned like bank robberies.  Okay, set your alarm for 2am.  Towel, check.  Flip flops, check.  Right, so very quietly.... Now I live by myself.  The hot water doesn't last forever, (especially when you like it as hot as I do) but at least I know that I've got a good ten or fifteen  minutes every morning to wake up the right way.  For the record, the wrong way is sudden cold water in the middle of shampooing.

3) The bible.  My head just does not feel right if I don't get some time in the word every morning.  It's like my radio dial gets jostled during the night, and reading scripture is how I carefully re-tune it to the frequency of truth.  I have to read this book.

Lorraine's Law: The last slice of quiche will be eaten at the meal immediately following the realization that there is only one slice of quiche left.

-J

Try it like this

I heard someone talk about secrets just about a week ago, and I had never heard it explained before.  It's been percolating in my mind ever since, as at least one recent person has discovered when I completely failed to elocute it well.
My friend was teaching a group of new Children's Ministry volunteers at the chapel, and I only came in for the very end to listen to what it was about.  I heard him say, "If a child comes to you and says 'I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone', you must tell them that you want them to share, you want to listen and help, but that you won't make that promise."  What?  Don't you want them to confide in you?  He explained it this way:
The moment you make that promise, to keep their secret, you set yourself up as their functional savior.  I will be the one to help you.  You can place your hope in me.  But that's not our role, obviously.  It seems like a small thing, but what do secrets do?  They separate us... they burden us often.  Not secrets like birthday presents, that's not really a secret even - it's a surprise.  And not something private.  That's something you can still tell people who are close to you.  A secret is something you can't tell anyone.  So it separates you from people... one more way in which you are alone.
The metaphor John gives us for heaven is a place with no night - only light, everywhere.  The idea is that nothing is hidden.  There are no liars in heaven, he records.  No untruths, no misunderstandings... and no secrets.  Perfect intimacy is a place where we lay our armor down and no longer consume ourselves with our own protection.
It was something that hadn't occurred to me.  Hopefully next time I'll be better at communicating.

-J