Category: Life

I was listening to Radiolab this morning. (BTW, Radiolab has to be my favorite podcast!) They were talking about Wilson Bentley. Bentley was the first person to actually photograph snowflakes.

Bentley’s interest in snowflakes began as a teenager. At the age of 15, he would peer at snowflakes through a microscope and attempt to draw the complex images before they melted. By the age of 20, he had attached a camera to the microscope and spent the rest of his life capturing and photographing what he called “tiny miracles of beauty.” Mind you, this was 1885 and way before our modern era of digital photography.

Tragically, Bentley died of pneumonia after walking six miles in a blizzard in order to photograph more snowflakes.

Bentley’s life made me think about beauty. First, here’s a man who spent his entire life enraptured by a beauty that most would rarely ever notice. And he was not only enraptured, but dedicated to endure the hardships necessary to document this beauty. It has made me pause and reflect about what beauty has captured my attention and allegiance.

Second, beauty is not everlasting. Bentley’s snowflakes are the perfect example. Within minutes these “tiny miracles of beauty” evaporate and vanish forever. The vibrancy of a sunset quickly darkens as the sun slips below the horizon. The gleam in a lover’s eye dims with age or sickness.

Third, considering the gazillion unseen snowflakes that have fallen to earth through the ages, there is beauty that will always go unseen by any human eye. There are flowers on a mountain somewhere that will bloom and die, unwitnessed by any terrestrial being. And then I think of the untold beauty throughout our cosmos. Images from the Hubble Telescope can only hint at the beauty that lies far beyond our reach.

Our world has been intentionally infused with beauty, everything from a snowflake, a flower, a sunset to a smile and a caring hand. It makes me grateful that our Creator loves his world so much that he sent his Son. God came into our world to save it and renew it. And this makes me long for that ultimate Day of Renewal when Heaven and Earth will fully merge, all things will be made right and beauty will no longer be fleeting.

“You love me more than I am able to love you.”

That line appears in one of Met Philaret of Moscow’s prayers. And it makes me pause every time I pray it.

In my previous youthful zeal and optimism, it was so easy to proclaim my love of God as though it were a grand thing. My worship was a spiritual facsimile of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on a couch. But the older I become, the more I realize that the truth quoted above is woven into the very fabric of reality. And it has tempered my immature exuberance with what I hope is humility. For my love for God is not something that needs to be proudly proclaimed in public but humbly practiced in silence.

God is love and perhaps the greatest expression of his love was the Incarnation. It was THE event of divine love that would heal humanity and creation and yet it was shrouded in quietude, humility and mystery.

Jesus taught that the greatest command is to love God with everything we have. Again, love is not proclaimed but practiced. But how? The Incarnation whispers an answer for those quiet enough to hear. “God became like us so we could become like him.”

God, who is love, became like us so we could become love like him.

St Paul encourages us to pursue love. This means far more than giving and receiving love, although  this would be a great start for many of us. Rather it’s pursuing Christ’s likeness, who embodied divine love as a real flesh-and-blood human being. We quietly love God by daily becoming the same kind of person he is.

The Incarnation isn’t just a historical event that we memorialize once a year. It’s a daily reality for those who love God. Just as God quietly and humbly slipped into his creation on that mysterious day, he still slips into his creation through our lives as we pursue love and become a little more like him.

Many people believe tradition to be a dead thing. Movies portraying a young man or woman kicking over the traces have become cliche. Tradition is depicted as the tool of the old or entrenched trying to retain social or political power over the young or disenfranchised.

So Fr Stephen’s definition of Tradition is like stepping out of a stuffy room into a crisp winter morning. It jolts the idea with fresh vitality.

Tradition is not the tyranny of the past over the present: Tradition is the adherence to the same eternal reality throughout all time.

Behind Tradition is the eternal reality of an amazing God. He’s a Creating God, giving life abundant expression under his care. He’s an Incarnational God, loving his creation so he becomes part of it in order to renew it from the inside-out. He’s an Apocalyptic God, embodying the ultimate union of heaven and earth so creation is restored and redefined. He’s a Loving God, sharing his life with ours in order that we may be continually reformed into his life and likeness.

So Tradition is the temporal expression of this eternal reality. Tradition is alive, rich, relevant, interactive, invigorating, rejuvenating, renewing, energetic, dynamic and vibrant.

Reading Scripture. Praying prayers. Making the sign of the cross. Honoring the Saints. Receiving the Eucharist. Confessing our sins. All open the windows to the brisk breeze of eternity, shocking us back to what is truly real.

I’ve seen about every trailer and clip for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. And yet I’ve remained a bit skeptical of the entire project. I loved The Lord of the Rings trilogy. But the thought of turning The Hobbit into another trilogy smacked of corporate greed more than artistic vision.

Then I saw THIS CLIP. I think this 1-minute clip is filled with same ethos that I love in the LOTR movies. What draws me to the LOTR movies are not the special effects, the fantasy, or the violence. It’s those startling moments when the curtain of reality is pulled back and we get a glimpse of true Reality. Moments of purpose, companionship, loyalty, and sacrifice that make sense of the pain and struggles we endure.

Those moments in LOTR continually move me to tears. And the last few sentences of the dialogue between Gandalf and Bilbo in this clip created a severe lump in my throat.

Gandalf: You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.

Bilbo: Can you promise that I will come back?

Gandalf: No… And if you do, you will not be the same.

There are moments in life when I can only shake my head in confusion and disbelief. And asking “Why?” provides no adequate answers. But it’s not those moments that are truly real or defining, despite how real they seem. It’s what, or better yet, Who awaits us at the End that is the True Reality and Purpose for everything.

I think it’s in our nature to want to make sense of what’s happening to us. Why am I sick? Why did I lose my loved one? Why am I lonely? But the meaning can’t be found in the moment. In many ways, it’s only after our life’s journey is complete that we will be able to look back with clear hindsight. But by then it’s too late. The paint on our life will have dried.

So the task in the moment is not to figure out Why but to be crafted through those moments into an ever-increasing image of Who. Because the only promise that awaits us is not that we’ll safely return from the journey, but that we’ll never be the same after the journey.

It’s been quite some time since I’ve scattered any words upon this digital parchment. Life has been full. And I absolutely love it. The first half of 2012 was filled with a lot of anxiety and fear.  Perhaps it was too many changes in too short a time. Or maybe it was simply the state of my own inner world taking its toll. Either way, things took a dark tone for awhile.

But through the help of various sources, I’ve been experiencing a significant turnaround. Perhaps the most notable is a sense of thanksgiving and gratitude I have for life, both the good and bad. I find myself thanking God each day for not only the perceived good in my life, but the potential challenges and struggles that I’m currently encountering and will potentially experience through the day

This change is subtle, yet alters the landscape of my perception. The crises that always seemed to loom before me don’t seem to be so “life-threatening” anymore. In turn, this has allowed me to focus on what God actually sets before me each day. You know, the “small” daily things like loving my wife and kids, performing with integrity and compassion at work, driving on southern California roads with patience and peace toward those around me

More and more I’m learning the myriad of small moments are what actually make up the fabric of real life. And how I live in those moments determines both who I am becoming inwardly and the “impact” I have upon my little portion in God’s world

In that light,  I want to share a couple of wonderful articles that paint portraits of genuine life far more beautiful than I can manage with my limited skills with words. The first is the blog post, “The Invisible Christian,” by Fr Stephen Freeman. And the second is “Pursuing God through the Small Things,” by Joel Miller. I would encourage you to spend a few moments reading these articles and allowing them to reframe your perception of what is important and valuable in life.

“All men want peace; but they do not know how to attain it. Paissy the Great, having lost his temper, begged the Lord to deliver him from irritability. The Lord appeared to him and said, ‘Paissy, if thou dost not wish to get angry, desire nothing, neither criticize nor hate any man, and thou wilt have no anger.’ Thus every one who renounces his own will before God and other people will always be at peace in his soul; but the man who likes to have his own way will never know peace. The soul that has surrendered herself to the will of God bears every affliction and every ill with ease, because in times of sickness she prays and contemplates God, saying: ‘O Lord, Thou seest my sickness; Thou knowest how weak and sinful I am. Help me to endure my sufferings and to thank Thee for Thy goodness.’ And the Lord relieves her pain, and the soul feels God’s help and is glad in the sight of God, and gives thanks. If some misfortune befalls you, reflect in this wise: ‘The Lord sees my heart, and if this is His will all will be well, both for me and for others.’ And thus your soul will always be at peace. But if a man murmurs against his fate he will never have peace in his soul, even though he fast and spend much time in prayer. The Apostles were deeply attached to the will of God. In this manner is peace preserved. All the great Saints likewise bore with every affliction, submitting themselves to the will of God.” Staretz Silouan, Wisdom from Mount Athos

“The soul of the humble man is like the sea: throw a stone into the sea — for a moment it will ruffle the surface a little, and then sink to the bottom. Thus do afflictions disappear down in the heart of the humble man because the strength of the Lord is with him.” Staretz Silouan, Wisdom From Mount Athos

Abbot Tryphon posts a great summary on how the Orthodox Church functions like a hospital in the therapeutic process of salvation. His opening paragraph is a good reminder that simply joining the Orthodox Church does not guarantee that we have entered the healing process. We must engage in the life of the Church in order to enter into communion with God and thus “work out our salvation” (Phil 2:12) and “train ourselves to be godly” (1Tim 4:7).

“Orthodoxy offers a very precise way in which to enter into communion with God. It is a way that must be learned, for simply “becoming Orthodox” will not lead the seeker into an inner life that will transform, and enlighten. Membership in the Church is simply not enough, for the Church is not about beautiful services, icons, or mystical theology. As a hospital for the soul, the Church is a place wherein we can receive healing for that which ails us. It is the place where we can be cured, and made whole.”

Read the rest HERE.

Fr Stephen Freeman recently adopted a puppy, which has compelled him to post a wonderful reflection about creation, fallenness, prayer, and human nature. Wow!

Here’s an excerpt:

“Do dogs pray (does creation pray)? Absolutely! “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord” (Psalm 150:6). But how do they pray? Their very existence is prayer. Every created nature is made to live in communion with God. Human nature itself lives in communion with God. Our fall does not consist in becoming something other than human – we have yet to become truly human.”

You can read the rest HERE.

Reviving my blog after a couple of years has me feeling like a singer preparing for a performance after a long hiatus. I need to cough and clear my throat as well as do some vocal exercises. So please forgive the phlegm as I try to warm up. 😉

So what am I hoping to accomplish now that I’m blogging again? Like I said last time, I want this blog simply to reflect my life as I live. Important aspects of my life are my family, theology, writing, reading, movies, music and photography. So I hope all of those things will find their way into my posts.

Here are some general “bloggy” things I’ve learned as I anticipate future posts.

Keep it short. A lot of blogs I read are long and tedious. And I too have been very guilty of being tedious. I’m trying to learn the art of brevity. One blog I read is The Morning Offering by Abbot Tryphon. He provides the most nourishing spiritual nuggets in small portions. Granted, his wisdom flows from a life of devoted, ascetical life to Christ. But he shares his profundity with great concision, something I desire to learn.

Keep it kind. I also find many blogs to be angry. Differences and disagreements provide ample fodder for blog posts. Being critical of others is just too easy. Yet, God is merciful to all. So I want to avoid rants and critiques and find beauty, grace and truth.

Keep it humble. I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. Honestly. I’m not a pastoral or prophetic voice. I hold no leadership position. I have no secret message that the world needs to hear. I’m just a man. If I had to describe myself, I guess I would say I’m striving to be Jesus’ apprentice as both a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church and a collaborator with God’s restorative mission in the world. So the majority of my posts will probably reflect this as I ponder life and other things.

First of all, Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!

And next, Hello again!

This is weird. I walked away from this blog almost two years ago. I said my farewells and had no intention of ever returning. And yet I could never bring myself to remove this blog’s presence from the Internet. Now I wonder if part of me secretly hoped for or even planned for a return. Who knows?

The time away has been good. I didn’t have any major theological insights or spiritual breakthroughs. Nor did I accomplish some monumental earth-shaking task. I’ve simply endeavored to become what I’ve mentioned in my blog for years — I’ve tried to be a good man.

So why return to blogging? I’m stilling piecing that one together. But here’s what I know.

Two years ago, I was becoming increasingly aware that my voice was only contributing to the narcissistic noise that defines our culture. I wanted to be heard and therefore I knew I needed to be silent.

Now, I just want to live. And for me, an essential part of living is reflecting and writing. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one.

So I’m back. I’m grateful for what has been. I’m content with what is. And I’m excited about what is to be.

Back in the 1970s, during my youth, I used to love a British SciFi series called Space: 1999. The premise was that on September 13, 1999, the nuclear waste being stored on the moon exploded, knocking the moon out of its orbit, hurtling it and the inhabitants of Moonbase Alpha into outer space.

I loved everything about the show — the flared-leg costumes, the Eagle Transporters, the transportation tubes, the stun guns, even the cheesy 1970s theme music.

So imagine my delight when I learned of Space: 2099! No, it’s not a remake like J.J. Abram’s Star Trek or SciFi Channel’s Battlestar Galactica. Rather, Eric Bernard has rebooted Space: 1999 by condensing each original episode of Space: 1999 into a 2-3 minute episode. He’s also added more special effects and edited the dialogue so that all of the original characters say “2099” instead of “1999.” You can watch all of the new episodes HERE.

It’s the “perfect storm” convergence of my nostalgia and geekiness. Memories of my brother and I playing with the Moonbase Alpha Adventure Playset cascaded my mind. That Adventure Playset was pure awesomeness! The entire set, including cast and aliens, was assembled out of punchout fiberboard and occupied hours of imaginative playtime. I also remember playing with my Space: 1999 Stun Gun Water Gun. That was one fun summer!

But soon nostalgia gave way to reflection. As a SciFi geek, I’m fascinated with the various visions of the future that the genre offers, especially since many of the visions are really attempts to address contemporary social and political issues. Lately, I’ve been wondering about what is generating so many horrific post-apocalyptic visions of the future in recent months — Terminator: Salvation, 9, Daybreakers, 2012, Avatar, and The Book of Eli. As a culture, have we become so cynical that we can only envision a devastated future? In the new movie, Legion, even the ever-patient, all-loving God is now depicted as the ultimate cynic, completely giving up on humanity and sending his demonic-looking angels to wipe us out.

Frankly, I’m getting tired of watching visions of the future that are either inhabited by zombies, vampires or killer automatons or filled with images of natural disasters and post-apocalyptic devastation. It’s boring.

I’m not necessarily looking for movies that depict an utopian vision. It’s just that global hopelessness is becoming too cliche for the genre.

I just watched a preview for a new movie called, Legion. Here’s the synopsis from the website:

In the supernatural action thriller Legion, an out-of-the-way diner becomes the unlikely battleground for the survival of the human race. When God loses faith in Mankind, he sends his legion of angels to bring on the Apocalypse. Humanity’s only hope lies in a group of strangers trapped in a desert diner and the Archangel Michael.

Ooookay…

So God gets fed up with humanity and sends his angels, who are led by the Archangel Gabriel and who all look pretty demonic, to exterminate us. But thank God (or perhaps not) the Archangel Michael likes us more than God enough to rebel against Him to save our collective butts.

I’m not even sure where to begin with this one.

Today, I inflicted death. Not metaphorically, but literally. I killed a living creature.

I accidentally ran over a cat with my car.

It was a horrific moment. It seemed to happen in an instant, yet play out in slow motion. The flash of white and brown fur. The sickening thud. The even more sickening lurch as my car’s tire rolled over the cat. Then watching the cat try to stagger away, only to collapse with spasms. A few seconds later it was gone. Dead.

Ironically, I was probably at my best behavior as a driver. I was awake and alert. I had both hands on the steering wheel. I was well under the speed limit. And I wasn’t distracted by my radio or phone. And yet, in that moment, my best still inflicted death.

That’s a very disturbing thought. My best resulted in death. A life was snuffed out by my hands even though everything I was and did in that moment was good.

And the effects will continue rippling outward. Later tonight, a family will wait in vain for their pet to return home. Tomorrow morning they will continue to worry. Perhaps over the next few days they will tape pictures of their cat throughout the neighborhood, hoping someone has found their pet. But, there will be no happy ending to this story.

All I could do in the aftermath was call the police so they could dispatch animal control and leave with a sober reminder of my deficiencies, sorry for what I had done.

Several weeks ago, my family watched Bolt on DVD. While titled after the movie’s main character, it seemed the movie was created to showcase Rhino the hamster. If my family’s outbursts of laughter are any measurement, Rhino virtually stole every scene.

***** Spoiler Alert begins! *****

But one scene caught me totally off guard. At the movie’s climax, Penny, Bolt’s owner, is trapped in a movie studio that is engulfed in flames. Bolt the dog, Mittens the cat and Rhino the hamster rush toward an entrance to the movie studio. Mittens asks, “What should we do?” Bolt responds, “Just make sure I get in there.” Surprisingly, Rhino speeds through the door in his hamster ball and uses his plastic ball to bear the weight of the building’s collapsing metal frame while Bolt shoots past to find Penny. As his plastic ball begins to splinter under the weight, Rhino cries out, “It’s a good day to die!” And in the following seconds of that scene, you realize that he was actually willing to die so that Bolt could go on to save Penny.

***** Spoiler Alert ends (maybe) *****

As the movie’s action continued, my eyes welled with tears and my mind lingered on that scene. Okay, okay, I know it was a cartoon. But there was something poignantly relevant in that moment that needs to be unpacked. Throughout the movie, Rhino gives himself wholeheartedly to the adventure. And at the most crucial moment, when the other side character wonders how to respond, Rhino instinctively and naturally acts. At the instant when everything counts, he automatically does what’s needed. He responds with what the ancient fathers called “virtue.” His courage and self-sacrifice had become second-nature, so embedded in his flesh and bones that he throws himself into certain death on behalf of his friends without even hesitating to think about it. His body and mind operate as a single self-sacrificing unit, “It’s a good day to die!”

Rhino’s character reminds me of something St Paul says in Colossians. He says that he and his compatriots are praying for the Christians in Colossae so that they may lead lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God. Lives worthy of the Lord, in which goodness and knowledge of God are second nature and embedded in flesh and bone so as to be ready to act instinctively in the moment.

So, what does a life worthy of the Lord look like? If the self-help titles available at the local bookstore are any indication, such a life would be success in all areas of living. But is Jesus’ life, ministry, death, resurrection and glorification all about my success in relationships, money and business? I don’t think so. In fact, and this might sound sacrilegious, I don’t think Jesus cares a whole lot about my success. There are much more important things, such as my salvation.

So, if Scripture and the Church’s teaching are the final assessment of a life worthy of the Lord, then such a life should personify sacrifice — instinctive readiness to give myself for the good of others. A life worthy of the Lord is a cruciform life, a life in which every thought, feeling, and action is shaped by Christ’s cross.

In the movie, Rhino yearns to have Bolt’s signature lightning bolt branded upon his fur. Perhaps I need to yearn more for Christ’s cross branded upon my heart.

I enjoy writing. Yet, this hasn’t always been the case. I hated writing as a kid. Up through high school, I was a “math geek” and would take equations over essays any time.

My attitude toward writing began evolving sometime in college, after I had changed my major from Information and Computer Science to Pre-Ministry. By the time I graduated from college, I was enjoying the craft more.

Although I’ve enjoyed writing for a couple of decades now, my appreciation for the craft has continued to transform. Upon graduating from college and entering the full-time pastorate, I was filled with youthful zeal and arrogance. I believed writing would be my key to success and notoriety. I dreamed of writing the next book that would unlock spiritual mysteries and capture the hearts of American Christians.

As I matured in my ministry a little, writing became more utilitarian. Words were the tools for teaching, inspiring and leading. I studied great communicators and their techniques in order to become more successful in my own attempts to impart ecclesiastical vision and theological instruction.

Several years ago, writing shifted into a more reflective craft. I was enamored with the idea of wordsmithing. There was something romantic in the vision of a master wordsmith, a skilled artisan of prose who could sense the grain and texture of words and intuitively assemble them into a masterpiece.

The other day I was thinking about writing and I thought about a new image for a writer — a word-chef. For me, this concept captures the mastery and innovation of a wordsmith, but adds a relational dimension. Like a smith, a chef must also be skilled in his or her craft. She must master tastes, textures and temperatures and know how to combine and present them in artistic and palatable ways. This generates layers of complexity since her creation must play upon all of the senses. Yet, ultimately, a chef’s craft is for another person. As much as she loves creating in her medium, her final product is to be consumed and enjoyed by another. Another will admire the blending of colors, inhale the enticing aromas, detect the subtle textures, and have their palate caressed by the flavors.

That’s the direction I want to progress in my writing. I want to put voice to the inherent beauty around me in such a way that it impacts all of the senses. I dream of working with savory words that will roll around in another’s mouth and evoke images that allow them to experience the tang or sweetness of the moment.

This desire bore itself deeply into my thoughts the other day as I was finishing a walk around my neighborhood. In the warm light of a setting sun, I saw a young man and woman saying goodbye to each other. They held each other, kissed and parted. As the young man rode off on his bike and the girl walked down the street, I noticed a slight smile light upon her face.

It was a touching moment that no one else would witness and I wanted to frame it with words, to write a few sentences that would express the ardor and pathos of young love. And all I could do in that moment was fumble with my inability as the words remained just beyond my reach.

Moments like this occur frequently. And as providence allows me to observe them, I’m hoping beyond measure that I will learn to recount those moments with words like a verbal chef, fashioning a sumptuous meal filled with aroma and flavor that unleashes the magic of imagination.

Back in 2007, Paul Potts stunned the world with his incredible operatic voice on Britain’s Got Talent. The surprise wasn’t his voice, but such a beautiful voice unexpectedly springing from the kind of person everyone assumed Paul was from just his looks.

Well, it’s happened again. This video of Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent, has circulated around the internet and TV, but it’s worth watching repeatedly. It’s a great metaphor of God’s kingdom and an appropriate reminder that authentic beauty can be found in the most unassuming places. I love sneak-attacks by beauty.

If you missed the link above, click HERE to view the YouTube video.

One of my favorite photographers is Zeb Andrews. I love looking at his work. What he does with a camera and his imagination is inspiring. He’s written a wonderful post on his website speaking about what makes photography worthwhile. And while his post is photography-specific, I believe the ideas behind it apply to many areas of life. Here’s some of what he has to say:

“Your photography is not limited by your camera, nor your lens.  It is not limited by shutter speeds, aperture, film, focus, flash, white balance, color, black and white, grain, noise, etc.  It is not limited by your budget nor your education.  It is not, and I repeat, not, limited by light.  It is certainly not limited by where you live or where you go.  Your photography is limited simply and quite importantly, only by your own imagination and vision.  All those factors I mentioned (and more) can certainly affect your photography, but ultimately you make of it what you will.  Photography begins and ends with the photographer, the best light in the world, or most advanced metering system will not change that…

“What matters most happens before the picture is even taken, not after.  The worth of your photography is in what gets you up at 4 am in the morning to brave freezing conditions in hopes of a sunrise.  It is what makes you follow your children around all day long patiently snapping frame after frame.  It is what causes you to drive for miles, or walk them, in search of that moment, be it in the middle of a sprawling urban landscape or a natural one.  It is significantly in what keeps you picking up that camera as the fractions of seconds become days, the days months, the months pool into years, and beyond.  It is in this desire to see, to experience, to feel, to celebrate, to remember, to be a part of, to be amazed or amused, that you will find what makes your photography worthwhile.  Everything that comes after the snap of the shutter is merely added drama, and it is never as important as you think it is.”

This isn’t the first time something in photography has opened a window into other areas of my life. As I ponder Zeb’s words, I realize that it’s too easy to slip into laziness. Sure I could give it another name and make up excuses, but bottom-line it’s simple laziness. My slothfulness is one of the areas of my life that I’ve become painfully and shamefully aware of during this Lent.

Years ago, I had a fire within me. I had a passion similar to what Zeb describes. I possessed what I believed to be a calling in my life and I pursued that calling with everything within me. I felt like I was a long-distance runner. With almost two decades of practice, I had found my stride as I stretched ever-forward toward my goal.

And then I stumbled. Or was I tripped? Does it even matter any more? All I know is that I hurt. All I could feel was pain and confusion. When before I had run, now I could only walk and limp. I was no longer confident that everything I had been pursuing was worthwhile anymore. And I chose to become lazy, to stop running and to cast off much of the discipline and structure that had helped me to run.

Recently, I’ve come to realize that if I don’t change, I will become the very thing I’ve always dreaded — nominal. I hear St Paul speaking familiar words:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.  Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” — 1Cor 9:24-27

Now mere days away from Holy Week and the hope of Christ’s transfiguring Pascha before me, I hear the cry (ala Forrest Gump), “Run, Jason, run.” I know the destination is much different than before as are the necessary disiplines and training. And I know I will face much soreness as I use atrophied muscles. But I choose to run again.

I’m sure everyone who has heard about death of the Walmart employee on Friday morning is sickened by what happened. I had originally decided not to blog about it because, while I had some thoughts forming, I felt I had nothing substantial to offer but my own sadness and revulsion at what happened.

This morning, Fr Gregory posted a thoughtful reflection on that event that I believe is worth reading. We simply can’t shake our heads at this tragedy as if we’re innocent and then go on with our consumerist lives as usual. Sure, we can tell ourselves that we would never have participated in such an atrocity. But we all participate in the same spirit of the age that caused Friday’s event. That’s why Fr Gregory’s call to both contemplation and action must be heard, especially during the Nativity season. For it is this very darkness and death that resides in all of us that Christ came to conquer.

Since tomorrow is a holiday (Veteran’s Day), I decided to take today as a vacation day and thus extend my weekend. This afternoon both closed a chapter in my life and revisited another.

About five years ago, upon leaving full-time pastoral ministry, a few of us in our newly-founded faith-community decided to start a wedding video business called inFocus Video Productions. This endeavor was to provide supplemental income for us as well as to provide a way to incarnate Christ’s presence through our lives and skills. Earlier this year, we decided to close our business. We filmed our last wedding in late October and officially closed our virtual doors early this month. Today, I cleaned and packed all of my video equipment to sell on Ebay. While being a wedding videographer was physically demanding and took me away from my family on many Saturdays, I enjoyed the last five years. I got to work closely with two of my best friends, hone my creative skills, and quietly serve and pray for the various couples on their wedding day. Now, as I type this, there is a vacant spot in a small corner of my bedroom where I stored my video equipment. I’m glad we decided to close our business, but today I’m also a bit sad that it’s over.

After packing my video equipment into my car, I drove to the Asian Access offices where I worked for three years after leaving professional ministry. Today, the office staff celebrated 25 years of wonderful service of the office receptionist, Ellen Hale. Ellen is an incredible person and is literally the voice of Asian Access as she answers the office phones. She has impacted hundreds, if not thousands, of people by incarnating Jesus’ life through her joy, her gentle disposition and her faithful prayer. I am so glad I was able to celebrate this great milestone with her. I was moved as I watched a video of Asian Access missionaries personally thank Ellen for her impact in their lives and ministry. This past year, I have missed my Asian Access friends. This afternoon was a nice time visiting with them as well as meeting Dana, who replaced me as the Staff Accountant, Joe, Silk and Margaret.

My co-worker told me to come outside when she arrived at the office. This is what I saw:

A few minutes later, it turned into a double rainbow.

Perhaps today will be a pot-of-gold kind of day!