This piece of haphazard artwork is taken off some random blog.  Thank you, random blogger.  Yes, it looks like paint splattered meaninglessly on a canvas, and in its essence, that's what it is.  But -- I'm going to be honest with you -- that's exactly why I like it.

Tonight I went to see the Secretary of Education speak at Biola.  What I walked away with were four words: "Life is not linear."  It made me feel better.  A lot better, as I tend to be too linear. 

So, here's to messy paint; here's to a messier life (hmm ... well, maybe not quite "messy").

When it comes to love I have very high ideals.  It's not that I think love is perfect, that would be impossible in a world of imperfection, but I do desire for it to be perfect.  I have memorized the bulk on Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, because I think it's one of the most beautiful testimonies of love.  "Love is not love which alters when alteration finds," in other words, love cannot be altered.  "It is the star to every wandering bark," this verse being one I'm particularly infatuated with, as it paints love as even the guide to the wanderer.  Then there's my other favorite love poem (or a favorite), "Brown Penny."  In this poem Yeats says that man will always want to figure out love, for he will be thinking of love until "the starts have run away and the shadows swallowed the moon."  Yeats concluded that "one cannot begin [love] too soon."

Now, I'll be the first to admit poetry is beautiful, these words have been a comfort to me many of times.  Their very romantic nature and rhyme sparking my imagination and drawling me into the possibilities of such a noble love.  To be honest, I have been guilty of this philosophy in regards to many avenues of love: songs, books, movies, quotes.  The more epic  display of love, perhaps the better.

But really?

What about tangible love?  The kind that we can touch, not read about; the kind that why can make cry, not watch cry on a silvery screen; the kind that we can choose to treat how we must, not read words that tell us just how we should feel.  What about that love?  What is that suppose to look like?

Like most things it goes back to God.  Sometimes I forget that God has others love us as a means of showing us what God's love is like for us.  It has been through people that love me dearly that I have seen aspects of grace, service, and encouragement that has blown me away.  It makes me think: if others can only show me a fraction of God's love, how much does God really love me?  Wow.  He must love me a lot.  For it is only in him and through him that the words of those poems, or the lyrics in sentimental songs can even began to take flight.  It is only in him that we can really know love and, therefore, show love.

I close with 1 Cor. 13, and though it's been read many times, it's powerful.  More powerful than Shakespeare or Yeats, and something worth thinking about on a grey Tuesday like today.

Click on the link:

 http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=1Cr&c=13&v=1&t=NIV

Isn't it amazing how one thing can change your life completely?  Taking a simple test in the career center about colleges and discovering the one you end up investing in; inviting a friend to a church group and their life becoming completely transformed; trying a cigarette once and somehow it turning into an addiction; fumbling with your cellphone and spinning off an icy cliff -- you're never able to walk again.

Our lives are fragile.  Every little decision and act is woven into an intricate scheme, and as we make so many decisions and partake in so many actions it's crazy how one thing can toss us in a dramatically new direction?

Are we people that can say, "I wish I'd never cared about checking my cellphone, if only I'd known," or "why did I even want to smoke?"

Or are we people who can say, "when I broke my legs I found who my real friends were, and most importantly, it was that action that brought me to Christ."  Acclaiming the good choices, "choosing that college allowed me to meet some of the most important people in my life, no dollar could ever buy the experience that I found."

So, perhaps you're thinking, "these are random examples, what on this green earth are you talking about!"

What I'm saying is what I previously said -- that we are truly fragile.  Our lives move so fast that our decisions often times happen before we can even process all the consequences.  But thankfully there is a greater plan.  Thankfully, God is the great redeemer.

Jesus told us not to worry, but Lord, that is so very hard when there are bills to pay or people sick.  Not worrying is a tall order, but when you think about how your life can and has changed, many of times that change dramatically spurred by one action, one begins to realize that worrying is just not worth it.  In fact, unless worrying can motivate a person to succeed on a given project or in a situation, worrying is almost always useless.  Let's face it, when it comes to life, there's only so much we can do, then it's God

It's that basic, yet it's so much easier said than done.  But then again, look at all the good things you have.  What of those things were brought about by worrying?

I used to really like shopping.  Don't get me wrong, I still love it, but I think the initial junior high/high school passion for shopping has become realistic.  I have determined that to shop one must spend money, to spend money one must have money, and even if there's money aplenty, is a new shirt really the best way to spend it? 

Ok, so I'll be the first to admit that not many material things beat the beauty that is felt when wearing a new shirt, and I have more than once kept my grocery bill at a painful low to save clothes shopping money, but after awhile one begins to realize that the glory of a shirt fades -- the new shirt becomes old.

Like I said, the love of shopping, is still there, but I have discovered that shopping is not really that satisfying.  Which brings me to my next point: a satisfying afternoon.

Today I read for four hours all nestled up on the couch, and it was one of the best afternoons I've had in weeks.  I slept horribly last night, and being able to sit on the cushions, the sun and breeze filtering through the screen door, far outweighed the shopping trip I had thoughts of embarking on after church.

Maybe part of maturing is realizing that simple can often times be better.  I went through this phase, well, high school, where shopping, going to the movies, or eating out all ranked high.  Now I realize that buying your own groceries, curling up with a book, or hanging out with your best friends far outweighs them all.

On a completely unrelated note, I have the most beautiful yellow daffodils next to me, which I would say is a direct order for:

"Daffodils"

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

~William Wordsworth

My eyes are burning because I'm so exhausted, but I can't sleep.

I used to think that atheists were people who just really hated God.  They hated him so much, they denied him.  That's what I used to think.

Tonight Christopher Hitchens debated William Lane Craig in, what I found to be, a compelling debate.  True Christianity won beyond atheism.  And, truthfully, I do not say that solely because I'm a Christian, but rather, that the only atheist arguments were refutes to the Christian arguments set-forth.  The atheist argument had no logical argument or solution of its own.

I could go on about the logistics of the debate, but with sleep deprivation plaguing me that's the last thing I want to do.  Really, I want to say that I was wrong.  Not all atheists hate God so much that they deny him.  Not all of them are too weak to believe.

Some atheists are strong -- strong in their ideas; some of them, like Hitchen's, believe atheism sets people free from false and often times binding beliefs.  The unfortunate spin, is that by adopting atheism, a person, in turn, adopts a belief set of their own, hence diminishing the ideology of their own freedom.

From what I've heard from Eric, and what I witnessed during the debate, I believe Hitchens is a complex man.  I believe that he wants what's right, what's good, and what's satisfying in this life.  Christian or not, who doesn't?  But as I heard him up there, so much tension toward religion in general, so much conviction in his idea of godlessness, I saw not an evil person as I thought I might see, but an intellectual, passionate, atheist guru.  

The thing he was missing was hope.  I wish he knew. 

The joy, the hope, the freedom in Christ.  I wish he knew.