Last week I got sent a link to a Lady Gaga song. I opened it up in youtube and went on to the next thing... but when the song hit the chorus, it really got my attention. And I ended up listening to it three or four times in a row. I didn't agree with the lyrics... to me, it seems hooking up with someone in a bar for a one night stand is about as far from glory as you can get. But the chorus managed to perfectly capture the feeling of being right on the edge of something spectacular-- not in it yet, but right on the edge of it. The song itself was somthing okay on the verge of being spectacular. And it got me thinking about times when I've felt that way in my prayer life. Like I'm at the door to the temple in Isaiah 6, and I can see the light shooting out from around the edges, and all I've got to do is open the door when that feels like a risk of being blown to atoms by the power contained there. And when Pastor Jim (at New Life) mentioned Lady Gaga in his sermon on Sunday, and was talking about how she said everything she does is in a constant quest for fame, I got to thinking that my impressions of the song also describe her. She's on the edge. She realizes she needs more, she's just trying to fill the hole in her life, the desperation with something that doesn't satisfy. Which is the same fix that a lot of people who don't know Jesus are in.
But Jesus can redeem them, even the ones who are fleeing from Him. And we should be helping with His redemptive work. But when we pray, "Your kingdom come," and long for a bit of Heaven here on earth, that means we need to get to work. Redeeming relationships. Building friendships. Redeeming and restoring the old, the tired, the broken... and not just the people here, but the stuff you find at garage sales too. Claiming the Godlikeness of a character in a book or a movie as a way to show people the Truth. Redeeming good music with bad lyrics.
Long story short, I rewrote the song. Five days after I heard it for the first time, this is what I was singing in the shower:
I'm on the edge of glory
Standing here waiting for You
I'm on the edge of glory
But I still don't know what to do
I'm on the edge, the edge
The edge, the edge (x3)
I'm on the edge of glory
Wanting to become one with You
I don't know where I'm going
I don't know what I'll find
But I'm trying hard to follow
With my heart, my soul, my mind
The only way to freedom
Is to become a slave
And the only way to live forever
Is to give my life away
I still don't understand this;
What You say does not make sense
Like the only way to grow up
Is to be like a child again
I'm on the edge of glory
Standing here waiting for You
I'm on the edge of glory
But I still don't know what to do
I'm on the edge, the edge
The edge, the edge (x3)
I'm on the edge of glory
Wanting to become one with You
And then I finally get it
This logic from above
I have stop worrying
And surrender to Your love
You'll lead me to a safe place,
And You'll protect my back
I don't need to go to Heaven
Because Heaven's where You're at
Standing in the doorway
Gazing at Your throne
Surrendering to Your awesome love
And becoming Your own
I've gone inside the glory
Walking and talking with You
I've gone inside the glory
Seeing Your love in truth
I've gone inside, inside
Inside, inside (x3)
I've gone inside the glory
Lost in loving You
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Star Trek Voyager #244: MUSE
This is TV putting fanfic in its proper place: Belanna: Janeway kissing Commander Chakotay. Tom Paris kissing Seven of Nine. Harry Kim kissing the Delaney sisters. I don't see the point.
Poet: Anger is like fire. Love can be the rain that extinguishes it. My patron is filled with hatred for his rival, so our play should be filled with love.
[several discussions later, after massive plot revisions, when the play now revolves around Janeway trying to make peace with the Borg who are keeping her from rescuing Harry and Belanna]
Belanna: Much better than all that kissing.
I enjoyed this episode so, so much. Because I believe with all my heart that tis better to have a plot and no romance than to have no plot at all.
Not that kissing is bad, mind you. I wouldn't mind a bit of snogging, but I have problems with people saying they've written a story and then handing me something that would not even meet the dubious standards required for a harlequin romance "novel".
Poet: Anger is like fire. Love can be the rain that extinguishes it. My patron is filled with hatred for his rival, so our play should be filled with love.
[several discussions later, after massive plot revisions, when the play now revolves around Janeway trying to make peace with the Borg who are keeping her from rescuing Harry and Belanna]
Belanna: Much better than all that kissing.
I enjoyed this episode so, so much. Because I believe with all my heart that tis better to have a plot and no romance than to have no plot at all.
Not that kissing is bad, mind you. I wouldn't mind a bit of snogging, but I have problems with people saying they've written a story and then handing me something that would not even meet the dubious standards required for a harlequin romance "novel".
Friday, June 17, 2011
Food Poem
I've realized recently that I usually wait to get inspired on a topic before writing a poem, rather than choosing a topic and going from there. It's much easier that way. Trying to write a poem about a specific subject handed to you in advance is very hard.
My mom asked me recently to write a poem about food to go in the new family cookbook they're working on. Several attempts later, the best of the food poems is rather ridiculous and will most likely be junked. But just to give you the full picture:
Food
Is a force of nature
Food attracts people
Food can bridge the difference
Between two people
Or two cultures
Food alters those who eat it
It sends out scent-waves of influence
Potluck food attracts more food
Food is... gravity.
Compare that to this little ditty I composed a few years back over Thanksgiving:
Holidays (to “Deck the Halls”)
Tis the season to gain weight:
Loads of goodies on my plate!
My mom’s cooking is so good;
I know I eat more than I should.
The game’s on upstairs, cards at the table
With snacks for those whose stomachs are able
To digest, with all the rest, another half a slice of pie
And if it isn't too much trouble, I’d like some ice cream on mine!
I can sing this one. It has rhyme. It's got some rhythm too it, although speaking it, towards the end, it starts to fade... (blame that on the fa-la-las). It's also got a coherence that the other is sadly lacking...
Well, back to work. Maybe I just need to get inspired. Hmm, what shall I have for brunch today?
My mom asked me recently to write a poem about food to go in the new family cookbook they're working on. Several attempts later, the best of the food poems is rather ridiculous and will most likely be junked. But just to give you the full picture:
Food
Is a force of nature
Food attracts people
Food can bridge the difference
Between two people
Or two cultures
Food alters those who eat it
It sends out scent-waves of influence
Potluck food attracts more food
Food is... gravity.
Compare that to this little ditty I composed a few years back over Thanksgiving:
Holidays (to “Deck the Halls”)
Tis the season to gain weight:
Loads of goodies on my plate!
My mom’s cooking is so good;
I know I eat more than I should.
The game’s on upstairs, cards at the table
With snacks for those whose stomachs are able
To digest, with all the rest, another half a slice of pie
And if it isn't too much trouble, I’d like some ice cream on mine!
I can sing this one. It has rhyme. It's got some rhythm too it, although speaking it, towards the end, it starts to fade... (blame that on the fa-la-las). It's also got a coherence that the other is sadly lacking...
Well, back to work. Maybe I just need to get inspired. Hmm, what shall I have for brunch today?
Fun vs. Satisfying
There's a difference between things that are fun and things that are satisfying.
Fun things, for example, might include riding my bike to nowhere, taking pictures, watching movies, reading books...
Satisfying things would be things like finally getting my desk cleaned up and everything filed, unpacking the last box, finishing a to-do list, finishing another application, having a sparkling clean bathroom and no laundry...
Fun things are good in the moment. Satisfying things are good for a longer period of time usually. Unfortunately, the only other major difference between the two is the work factor. Which means realizing that I frequently choose the fun over the satisfying when I have a choice is the same as realizing I am a sloth.
L-A-Z-Y.
Now, prior to this, I had realized that I could be lazy. I just hadn't put it together just how much that compulsion seems to drive me. For instance, even in my writing. I've been writing poetry and blogs and facebook posts rather than working on one of my novels. At this rate, when I die and they go through my stuff, it'll be this whole treasure trove of unfinished works, a la Da Vinci. Don't get me wrong, the original Renaissance Man was a pretty cool guy... but being known for being brilliant and not finishing anything is just not really the sort of thing I want people to say about me.
Which means I definitely need to work on this nasty habit of mine. Lord, help me please!
Fun things, for example, might include riding my bike to nowhere, taking pictures, watching movies, reading books...
Satisfying things would be things like finally getting my desk cleaned up and everything filed, unpacking the last box, finishing a to-do list, finishing another application, having a sparkling clean bathroom and no laundry...
Fun things are good in the moment. Satisfying things are good for a longer period of time usually. Unfortunately, the only other major difference between the two is the work factor. Which means realizing that I frequently choose the fun over the satisfying when I have a choice is the same as realizing I am a sloth.
L-A-Z-Y.
Now, prior to this, I had realized that I could be lazy. I just hadn't put it together just how much that compulsion seems to drive me. For instance, even in my writing. I've been writing poetry and blogs and facebook posts rather than working on one of my novels. At this rate, when I die and they go through my stuff, it'll be this whole treasure trove of unfinished works, a la Da Vinci. Don't get me wrong, the original Renaissance Man was a pretty cool guy... but being known for being brilliant and not finishing anything is just not really the sort of thing I want people to say about me.
Which means I definitely need to work on this nasty habit of mine. Lord, help me please!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Guitar
A few weeks back, I got a guitar at a garage sale. It's missing the knob for tuning the fourth string and it has some scratches on the body, but it's got a pretty nice sound still. I used a pair of pliers to turn the knob and tune it. For five bucks, it was a pretty good investment.
When I told my mom, she asked me why I got it. Not mad or anything, just curious. Because I have a perfectly good keyboard that I don't practice on near as much as I ought to, and it's entirely my own fault that I can barely mangle the melody of a hymn. I gave her several reasons, but the major one was this:
You can't take a piano on a campout.
People who knew me as a child are probably laughing their heads off.
Because I think I whined every time my parents took me on a camping trip growing up. I hated the bugs. I hated the fishing. I hated the hiking. I hated Mom waking us up at the crack of dawn (or 8:30) because we were on vacation and couldn't she just let us sleep in? I hated the disgusting bathrooms and the fact that they were a half a mile away. I hated the noisy bugs outside at night and I used to worry about them finding ways to crawl into the tent, into my sleeping bag, and into my ears while I slept. Maybe they'd lay eggs in my brain!
Now I look back and I miss the simplicity of those campouts. I miss playing cards on the floor of the tent with my sister. I miss playing board games at a picnic table. I miss swimming in lakes and taking wet jet rides. I miss roasting marshmallows over a fire. And I miss singing around a campfire.
We didn't actually do that one much when it was just my family on the camping trip. But I can remember doing it occasionally. And I loved it. I loved it as a kid, when one of my uncles brought a guitar to the Fourth of July "big family" get together. I loved it as a teen, when I went away to camp, and everyone'd gather in the meeting hall or the cafeteria and sing. I loved it the time my college friends and I went to the woods just outside of Alton and had a bonfire and sing-along that lasted until 3 or 4 in the morning.
But since then, I've never really been able to get it going at a campout or a bonfire. I came to the conclusion that my voice is not enough to lead a sing along. This is where the guitar comes in. Hopefully someday I'll be able to sing and play, even if it's just chords.
And when that someday comes, I'll be able to not only take the guitar to a bonfire, but also to a park, to a friend's house, to my parent's house, to church, to a barbeque... anywhere I want. Without needing a truck or electricity.
When I told my mom, she asked me why I got it. Not mad or anything, just curious. Because I have a perfectly good keyboard that I don't practice on near as much as I ought to, and it's entirely my own fault that I can barely mangle the melody of a hymn. I gave her several reasons, but the major one was this:
You can't take a piano on a campout.
People who knew me as a child are probably laughing their heads off.
Because I think I whined every time my parents took me on a camping trip growing up. I hated the bugs. I hated the fishing. I hated the hiking. I hated Mom waking us up at the crack of dawn (or 8:30) because we were on vacation and couldn't she just let us sleep in? I hated the disgusting bathrooms and the fact that they were a half a mile away. I hated the noisy bugs outside at night and I used to worry about them finding ways to crawl into the tent, into my sleeping bag, and into my ears while I slept. Maybe they'd lay eggs in my brain!
Now I look back and I miss the simplicity of those campouts. I miss playing cards on the floor of the tent with my sister. I miss playing board games at a picnic table. I miss swimming in lakes and taking wet jet rides. I miss roasting marshmallows over a fire. And I miss singing around a campfire.
We didn't actually do that one much when it was just my family on the camping trip. But I can remember doing it occasionally. And I loved it. I loved it as a kid, when one of my uncles brought a guitar to the Fourth of July "big family" get together. I loved it as a teen, when I went away to camp, and everyone'd gather in the meeting hall or the cafeteria and sing. I loved it the time my college friends and I went to the woods just outside of Alton and had a bonfire and sing-along that lasted until 3 or 4 in the morning.
But since then, I've never really been able to get it going at a campout or a bonfire. I came to the conclusion that my voice is not enough to lead a sing along. This is where the guitar comes in. Hopefully someday I'll be able to sing and play, even if it's just chords.
And when that someday comes, I'll be able to not only take the guitar to a bonfire, but also to a park, to a friend's house, to my parent's house, to church, to a barbeque... anywhere I want. Without needing a truck or electricity.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Hello & Welcome
Hello and Welcome to my brand-new blog. Since I've never had a blog before, I'm just going to wing it. I'm of the opinion that humor is usually more like a snack or junk food- it's the part nobody can wait for. Things that require thought are the meat and potatoes for your mind. God's Word can either be sweet like pineapple or somewhat nasty like asparagus (Wanna "Pray for those who persecute you," anyone?). But we all need our fruits and veggies for a healthy life.I'm going to try to provide you with a fairly balanced diet of words.
Today's funny is a conversation between my sister and her son:
Kyle: "We're home? I was only asleep for ten minutes."
Jen: "Kyle, you were asleep at least an hour and a half."
Kyle: "Well, I lost track of the time!"
Today's verse:
Then the Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court, and the glory of the LORD filled the temple.
Ezekiel 43:5
And now something to think on: One of the poems I've been working on for a while now. Please read & review.
Adventure Heroes
We like fiction
To supersize our characters
We like fantasy
To give them magic powers
We like sci-fi
So that they can do what we can’t
We think that
We’re so boring
We don’t bother to
Know each other
In our quest for the
Latest book
Latest movie
Latest tale of great adventure
Who cares about real life?
But thinking that,
You get caught in the trap,
And miss the adventure
Of knowing next-door lives
A doctor with the heart of a pyromaniac
With endless time
For teens in his youth group or at his house
For building a twenty foot bonfire
And then going to look for more wood
Because it’s still not big enough
With boundless energy
And always time for two on two
With garbage cans for basketball hoops
Do you know
The woman around the corner
Who gave up her daughter for adoption
Then spent forty years searching for her
Scouring the internet
Poring through phone books
Hiring P.I.s
If you’re not sure of the difference
Between love and being used
Just ask her
Her second husband paved the way
Prayed the way
To reunion
With her daughter
Have you talked with
The ninety-year-old lady
Who fell and broke her hip
Laid outside for more than three hours
And never noticed the agony
Because she was lost in the wonder
Of watching the grass grow
The doctor's said she'd never walk again
Three months later, she was back in her home,
Living alone,
Because she chose
to Walk again
By faith.
Today's funny is a conversation between my sister and her son:
Kyle: "We're home? I was only asleep for ten minutes."
Jen: "Kyle, you were asleep at least an hour and a half."
Kyle: "Well, I lost track of the time!"
Today's verse:
Then the Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court, and the glory of the LORD filled the temple.
Ezekiel 43:5
And now something to think on: One of the poems I've been working on for a while now. Please read & review.
Adventure Heroes
We like fiction
To supersize our characters
We like fantasy
To give them magic powers
We like sci-fi
So that they can do what we can’t
We think that
We’re so boring
We don’t bother to
Know each other
In our quest for the
Latest book
Latest movie
Latest tale of great adventure
Who cares about real life?
But thinking that,
You get caught in the trap,
And miss the adventure
Of knowing next-door lives
A doctor with the heart of a pyromaniac
With endless time
For teens in his youth group or at his house
For building a twenty foot bonfire
And then going to look for more wood
Because it’s still not big enough
With boundless energy
And always time for two on two
With garbage cans for basketball hoops
Do you know
The woman around the corner
Who gave up her daughter for adoption
Then spent forty years searching for her
Scouring the internet
Poring through phone books
Hiring P.I.s
If you’re not sure of the difference
Between love and being used
Just ask her
Her second husband paved the way
Prayed the way
To reunion
With her daughter
Have you talked with
The ninety-year-old lady
Who fell and broke her hip
Laid outside for more than three hours
And never noticed the agony
Because she was lost in the wonder
Of watching the grass grow
The doctor's said she'd never walk again
Three months later, she was back in her home,
Living alone,
Because she chose
to Walk again
By faith.
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