solipsism

to body and
to Body and
to BODY
the mouth and mind of a babe cleaves and cries for strength until
"He silences foes and avengers with perfected praise."

from BODY and
from Body and
from body,
the leprous mind and mouth severs from self until
"it passes through waterless places, seeking rest,
but does not find it."

studying for biblical counseling final exam

Since I'll be devoting the next week or so preparing (coram deo) for my Theology and Secular Psychology final exam, I thought I'd leave you with a couple more papers I submitted to that class this semester: An eye opening movie with some pizza food for thought. Behold and bon appetite.

Next on Seinfeld: Mailmen are closet mailbox critics

Our mailman knocked on our door today since he had a package for me. I answered the door to receive the package and the mailman paid a compliment to our new mailbox:

"I like your new mailbox. It is much nicer looking than that old one."

"Yeah, it's a little smaller than the other one. I hope that works."

"Well, you don't receive a lot of mail. But there are heavy mail days and the smaller boxes just can't handle it."

"I went for the cheapest box." Pointing to the old box on the ground next to some bird droppings and a broken egg, I continued, "The birds were making a nest out of that one. I just wanted to get one that could close its lid." (Not to mention had the same bolt configuration. I didn't want to drill new holes in the wall to accomodate a different shaped box.)

"I suppose you get what you pay for. Next time when this one wears out, you should consider getting the longer box, instead of the deeper box model."

So, that's how it ended. He began with a compliment and ended with a critique of our new mailbox! He must have a lot to say about mailboxes. I bet that mailman walks around the neighborhood evaluating homes by their mailboxes: "Egads. Get a new mailbox, bud." or "Now this is a man who knows his mailbox." or "Hey, Fred, on the Bradford route, what did you think of the Johnsons' mailbox? Don't ya just wanna stand on their porch all day, taking mail out and putting mail in. Smooth, huh?"

the diplomacy of silence

The dreadful sign language of silence is deafening.
My ears look for justice;
they grope in darkness for truth spoken through love.
I whispered in her ear. At first, a wishing well.
Then with time, a room crowded with "Hello?"
A deep, rocky chasm that only answers in Echo,
returning my whisper as desparate shouts. vomit.
Its darkness swells as does the womb of Sheol with the dead.
forever they kick against its uterus.
Teach me, St. Job, your wisdom, your patience.
Or should I not let silence take so long to say "so long"?

O my soul, His silence is but a breath between His words.
He is patient with your banter, courteous not to interrupt.
Father, forgive the foolish words I've multiplied, so full of me.
Yes, my words return to haunt me, because they seek me and my glory.
I shut my mouth now; I listen for You with silence.

Dallas worships the Stars

Last night, I went out with a handful of guys to see the Dallas Stars play hockey at the American Airlines Center. I'm not big on huge, loud pro sports events (OU college football is a completely different matter), but I thought it would be good to go out with the guys who work or study at the International Linguistics Center. I discovered it was "Christian" night at the hockey game which, as far as I could tell, means they have a Christian band play during intermissions and several church groups come. (I wonder if they consider that evangelistic outreach?)

A few phenomena ('fanomena', henceforth) struck me as a bit peculiar. One is that they'd have such a thing as "Christian" night for an event where the crowd gets most excited over the fights. Secondly, I saw several 30+/40+ men wearing Stars jerseys with some player's name and number on the back. Wearing a sports jersey as a symbol of allegiance is one thing; having a favorite player on the back just seems more appropriate for adolescents or teenagers who are clearly younger than those whom they admire. Furthermore, wearing an individual player's name seems to communicate intra-fan competition: "My favorite player is better than yours!" Thirdly, during the national anthem, the crowd liturgically shouts "Stars" whenever the word occurs in the lyrics. Now, I for one will admit that ever since becoming a Christian, I have struggled with how to sing the national anthem from the heart, because it so resembles the corporate sentiment of a worship/hymn. Perhaps for that precise reason, I found the sports cheer intrusions to be distasteful, a breaking of national corporate sanctity, for the sake of a local entertainment event. I wonder if such a thing could only occur in a culture that has so watered down church worship, that even lesser 'holy' realms of life are sacrificed to the alters of our local entertainment deities.

That said, I did have fun with the guys and the game was suspenseful, though no one lost their teeth or got a black eye. The Dallas Stars won over the Chicago Blackhawks in sudden death overtime, 3-2, winning the spoils of free Taco Bueno tacos for all the fans. Yeah, Stars! :)

V-day : the aftermath

Do couples have an exclusive right to Valentines Day? I think not. Romantic interests aside (but certainly not forgotten), upon my heart was to send something to a few of my friends, I've known over the years. In the past, Valentines Day to me, has been a time to remember friends that for one reason or another I feel obligated to send some token of love to. Sometimes to seek reconcilliation and forgiveness; sometimes to say, "Hey, I still remember you, sorry for not keeping in better touch."

This past Valentine's Day, I remembered my mother, who had sent me a card the previous week. In the morning on my way to work, I called my trusted friend Bill, 200 miles away, to see if he had time to get something for her for me. No sooner had my request left my mouth, Bill was out the door to do the good work. That's how he is, yet it never ceases to surprise me how quick, almost spontaneous his love is. My love for my mother was the goal, and yet I felt unexpectedly blessed by my friend's quick willingness to help out. That's just one instance in which v-day "backfired" on me, throwing love back into my face, even before my mom could thank me for the "three beautiful roses."

There were other such instances, a poem given here, a box of chocolates there, a number of e-cards here and there. Anxieties in the aftermath over how people would respond to these gestures. But, by the end of the week, all that has returned to me has left me surprisingly loved.

he longs for her jealously

He longs for her jealously,
his for hers.
Empty it gropes, in fulness it finds,
hers for his, she for him.
Arise from your torched wax museum,
O concubine of *s*t*a*r*s*,
O circumcised stone, fear no more
Remembering, etch-a-flesh open love letter,
all he promised her and all he commands.
Templed treasure-chest of hope,
virtue of virtues throne room,
bedspread cleansed for her master
monarch.