tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51140814800558873242024-03-13T02:08:09.681-07:00Crazy IdeaI've got a crazy idea the world can change. And what's even crazier...we can change it!Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-53914925512589126442013-09-20T14:05:00.000-07:002013-09-20T14:57:40.300-07:00Oppurtunity, misspelled.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Oppurtunity, misspelled.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve always struggled with the word opportunity. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Opportunity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It just seems to me that second letter “o” should be the
letter “u.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And to the vexing disappointment of Mrs. Williford and all
those teachers who deluged into me my love of language, I say there are no
rules in the English language. (If so, read and read wouldn’t be reed and
red…and eight wouldn’t be ate…but they didn’t ask me.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But in those dark, dark days before spill cheek, you always
got an extra u from my in opportunity. (See what I did there?)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today…today I’ve been thinking about that beautiful way
I used to misspell oppurtunity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“OPPURTUNITY”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So often, we think of opportunity as a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">favorable </i>experience. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brightly colored, glittery and sparkling…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>…Happy gardens, with pinwheel-spinning breezes…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>…Red carpets escorting to open doors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Opportunities.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But sometimes…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So often times…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our opportunities are misspelled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get oppurtunities instead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Often times, we only see the thing needing correction…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When what we need is not to correct, but to dive in to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To dive right on in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes, our oppurtunities to be blessed will not be
neatly packaged in the perfect three-pieces-of-cello-taped packaging.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What the heck am I saying?? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes!?! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Permission to rephrase?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rarely will our oppurtunities to be blessed will be neatly
packaged in the perfect three-pieces-of-cello-taped packaging.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most often, we’re going to find our greatest blessings, knee-deep
or deeper in the dung of someone else’s doing. In that, “what have I gotten
myself into?” moment of doubt and self-doubt and God-doubt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That smelly, stinky place of why did I pull over? Why did I
say you could come in? Why did I invite them here? Why did I agree to meet?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that’s so often where we find our greatest blessings.
That’s where we find it.<br />
Check this out...I had to come to Emory this morning for treatment...on the way up, I saw a homeless man by the road and called him over to my car to give him some money. I said, "God bless you, bro!"<br />
He said, "he already did! He sent you to Atlanta today to bear the name of Jesus. Just like you always do!"<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe we shouldn’t always look for the perfect opportunity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe we should be really cool with the imperfect oppurtunity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-73111831127215352202013-06-06T21:21:00.001-07:002013-06-06T21:21:42.706-07:00It’s All A Gift.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Calibri;
panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin-top:0in;
margin-right:0in;
margin-bottom:10.0pt;
margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<i>(I'm not at Starbucks at this actual moment...I just finished typing this into the computer from a beautiful journal. The journal and I were at Starbucks earlier.)</i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m at Starbucks…my heart is kind of aching at this
particular moment in the whole space and time ‘where do we go from here’
wilderness of life. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And you know a weird thing about that location?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It kind of sucks…with a ‘Wow! This could be amazing Daddy!
Take me on the adventure too!’ sort of sucky way. You know? The kind of thing
that you know will be great on the other side, and there’ll be great stories
about the incredible adventure. I mean, yeah, it sucks…but it’s so worth every
bit of it!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway—I’m at Starbucks. I’m writing as fast as I can—like a
wild-eyed, rabid space monkey experimenting with high potency crystal
methamphetamines—in a red journal embossed with ornate design and the reminding
words “God is Love.” But just like every other journal I’ve ever owned (by the
way, did you my favorite book genre is a blank journal?), but anyway, just like
every journal I’ve ever owned has been a gift given in love by someone. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">No, for real, of all the cherished, loved, insane-idea laden
journals I’ve ever brought to life by marrying them to ink (preferably 1.0mm
thickness), not a single one was purchased from the funds of the feeble
financial account of the insane One, Ollie (with the exception of those
journals Madame Hawt Mama Cristi purchased—but all I have is actually hers—I
claim no ownership. So still, I’ve never purchased a journal.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have bought a couple spiral-bound notebooks along the
way—but the only ones I’ve embellished with any words of consequence were those
given to me by my sister K Carla. She gave me a couple of really cool spiral
bounds, with 3D images of Phineas and the words “He Thinks Big!”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But see—all these treasured, precious, priceless books—where
my brain and heart place my crazy ideas—my plans—my schemes—my manifestos for
loving, brightening, changing the world—the safe keepers of my insanity—were
all given as GIFTS to me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Someone, or someones, people, people in and out of my
life—people who have, who do, who will—LOVE ME, me, this frail and failing,
inconsistent Ollie—undeserving of title—inadequate of pomp—have loved me enough
to have transferred to my care…BLANK PAGES!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I LOVE BLANK PAGES!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh, and…</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Did I mention I’m at Starbucks? Yeah—I know I did. (I just
really don’t why I always ask these kind of questions, I guess to make sure
people are awake or something…or, maybe its just like an Ollie-ism that you
have to accept since you’re required to love me! The Bible says so!)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But anyway, yeah…I’m at Starbucks, and I came in with a
heavy heart, my phone, my ear buds, a Starbucks gift card (that someone gave
me) and this journal, of which I’ve already written…but, I was missing a pen.
(You’d think by the fact my poor car looks like a mobile scene from Sanford
& Son’s Junk Yard, I’d surely find a pen in all those mounds of refuse, but
no—nothing.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I came in, ordered my venti Pike’s Place in a “for here”
cup, and set about forming my beggar’s countenance. I asked the barista (I love
the word barista—I’ve often times considered filling out an application, just
so I could be “Ollie…the Barista”) but I asked the barista, if by chance, she
might have a spare pen I could borrow. I told her my heart was a little heavy
and I needed to write it out. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She was kind in the shadow of her Starbucks cap. She checked
around the counter area, held the Bic Ultra Round Stic Grip towards me and
said, “You can use my pen.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I asked, “What if I forget to give it back?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She said, “It’s okay! It’s a gift!”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It’s a gift!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A gift!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was a GIFT!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I started thinking about what’s “mine.” (Here’s another Ollie-ism,
maybe –ism #8, or maybe #12, I’ve lost count.) But I actually DETEST possessive
words like “mine” and “my,” etc.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But like I said, I started thinking as I held this journal,
this pen, this coffee, then I started thinking about all the gifts and abilities
and every other thing in my life—my gifted, on-loan life…every bit of it—this
breathing in and out—this beating heart—these tears that sting my eyes—this
obnoxious laughter that embarrasses my family—these friends and family I hold
so dear—the arms that wrap around me, and let a 6’4” man be a crying
child—these gifts. The words I stand and speak in love. The passion I feel for
loving the world. Even the words I scribble of on this gifted-to-me journal,
with this gifted-to-me pen—the all of the all.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It is all a gift on loan—</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This whole life, and all it entails, is a gift, on loan—</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And I will manage it well.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love you…I love you how?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">MUCH LOVE!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-31078130477664860892013-06-04T13:58:00.000-07:002013-06-04T13:58:04.116-07:00Trust. (A Gift I Opened.)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div>
<i>(Before you start
reading this, I must start by offering my standard apology: this is
about that silly little season of my life I'm sure you're sick of
hearing about. If so, hit the back button now. I really don't mean to be
melodramatic, or wear it on my sleeve like some "poor Ollie" sympathy
thing. </i><br />
<i>It's just purity is transparency...and I want to use every
aspect of my story to help others, well, not just "others," but to help
you! Maybe it's not cancer, but maybe you can identify something in my
stories with something in your life...that's part of my dream. </i><br />
<i>So,
this is the part that may sound melodramatic, but I don't give a crap:
I'd take a hundred more cancer diagnoses, if someone could be inspired
to live.)</i><br />
<br />
People say, "I battled cancer." Or, "He lost his battle with cancer."<br />
<br />
I had cancer.<br />
<br />
It was in my brain.<br />
<br />
It was stage 4 brain cancer.<br />
<br />
But, I did not battle it.<br />
<br />
(Standardized
Ollie Preface: I'm talking about me, myself, Paul Ollie Horne, Sr. I'm
not speaking on behalf of all cancer patients and/or the otherwise
terminally ill*.)<br />
<br />
I've battled to recover from its
effects, but...I did not battle the lemon-sized glioblastoma tumor,
which manifest itself by causing me to have seizures on a plane in
Nigeria.<br />
<br />
I couldn't battle the tumor.<br />
<br />
I had no training, no education, no equipment, no expertise, no degrees.<br />
<br />
I had no sterile environments. No scalpels, no medical-grade Craftsman circular saws.<br />
<br />
I had not a single item in any arsenal imaginable with which to wage this battle for my life.<br />
<br />
Well, okay, I did have one thing.<br />
<br />
One
thing debated to be either foolish or wise...and the thing I personally
hold out to be both: foolishly, even ridiculously wise.<br />
<br />
That thing?<br />
<br />
Trust.<br />
<br />
I only had one thing with which I could fight my battle: I had to give up my battle to the care of others.<br />
<br />
Of
course I had faith and trust, and I had those in copious doses. But
that faith was not a possession to which I could lay claim. All faith we
ever know is on loan to us, we're never its owner. We're never its
manufacturer.<br />
<br />
So all I could do was trust, and believe,
and pray. (Now, I used to get indignant at the hokey movie line of the
wise old doctor, who'd half in care/half in callousness, tell the
anxious family, "All we can do now, is pray." I wanted to ask why not
START there? Why not start with praying? Anyway.)<br />
<br />
But I learned this amazing thing during this amazing thing! <br />
<br />
Trust!<br />
<br />
I learned trust.<br />
<br />
My neurosurgeon was the best of the best neurosurgeons.<br />
<br />
My radiation oncologist was the best of the best radiation oncologists.<br />
<br />
My medical oncologist was the best of the medical oncologists.<br />
<br />
They
explained things in unnecessary detail. When they weren't in the
office, they were traveling the world teaching their colleagues their
life-saving expertise. They weren't cocky, but they had the steady
confidence you so desire in a person who is literally holding your brain
in their hands.<br />
<br />
(My greatest comfort came when one the
oncologists described my neurosurgeon as a genius artist. A scientist, a
genius, who performs art while removing unwanted lemons from the
parietal lobe.)<br />
<br />
I trusted.<br />
<br />
I trusted the doctors and their staff.<br />
<br />
I trusted Nurse Mark (free willy) when he made me do my predawn walk of the ICU.<br />
<br />
I trusted the MRI techs when they assured me I wouldn't spontaneously combust in their tube of doom.<br />
<br />
But
you know what else I learned, or, well, I guess I should say my years
of learning were tattooed onto my heart through this overwhelming
blessing? <br />
<br />
I learned that I really do trust God, my Daddy.<br />
<br />
Some
people have referred to this time in my life as a storm...but for me
this has been so far from storm-like! It's been more like the kind of
refreshing rain shower where country kids go outside and splash around
in the mud...and throw their heads back, open their mouths wide,
drinking raindrops straight from the clouds!!<br />
<br />
Anyway, in all honesty, I've been given a gift. A super power, that's renewed every time I wake up.<br />
<br />
It's called trust.<br />
<br />
Trust
is what carries us through the fear of the unknowns. Trust is what
reminds us everything will be okay. Trust says, "It's okay if I don't
understand, if I don't get how this all works, because I trust the one
does know how all this works."<br />
<br />
His name is God...but he prefers a more trustworthy name: Daddy.<br />
<br />
Much Love!<br />
<br />
*I
had to "asterisks" this, because, short of the return of Jesus, we're
all facing the same beautiful terminal disease: life. Congrats!</div>
</span></div>
</div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-86641910494814652172013-04-19T04:34:00.003-07:002013-04-19T04:34:52.828-07:00I still think about that bird.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I still think about that bird.<br /><br />
<br />
Why is it, I still can’t get the image of that bird out of
my head…out of my heart?<br />
<br />
Lunacy? Did I ever deny that fact?<br />
<br />
But still, by now, under this care, why do I still see that
bird?<br />
<br />
She was beautiful that overcast day.<br />
<br />
Beautiful.<br />
<br />
Beautiful…and sad.<br />
<br />
Beautiful and sad and land based.<br />
<br />
It had to have been fifteen years ago, when I witnessed what
was to me the most tortured, tragic and seemingly insignificant event sadly
unfolding along the backside of Statesboro, Georgia’s Main Street business
district.<br />
<br />
I saw a bird…walking down the…<br />
<br />
Oh, wait. Lunacy, remember? Told that one already.<br />
<br />
(Maybe a couple times…or maybe a couple times more than I
should’ve.)<br />
<br />
But…<br />
<br />
But the thing about it is…<br />
<br />
Well, I still think about that bird.<br />
<br />
I don’t know much about birds. I don’t know her particular
species or anything. <br />
<br />
She was a kind of charcoaly-grey, occasionally white and
then dark black. And she didn’t have that nervous shifty head movement thing
birds usually have. She just walked along, moving her head in slow, almost
deliberate movements. <br />
<br />
When she looked my way, and I saw first one eye, then the
next, they were jet black, like you dripped glossy black paint on a sunny day. <br />
<br />
But they were sad.<br />
<br />
I kept thinking she was going to fly away. There was a tree
or two and plenty of utility cables for perching.<br />
<br />
But she just walked.<br />
<br />
Even, even when a car, I think it was a light blue Vega like
my sister used to have when I was seventeen, drove very closely…she just walked
by.<br />
<br />
(<i>I couldn’t sleep
tonight…too much raw desire, emotion, passion, pain…which for me, renders
itself out as love expressed in words…and deep, deep memories…)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
When that car came rumbling down the street, I just knew
she’d raise her wings, display her authority over such petty constraints as
physics, and fly away.<br />
<br />
But again, no.<br />
<br />
She walked.<br />
<br />
The original story for just a minute…<br />
<br />
She walked the entire length of the city block, turned and
continued walking.<br />
<br />
I never once saw her fly.<br />
<br />
I never once saw her again.<br />
<br />
And, I still think about that bird.<br />
<br />
I wonder what happened to her in the days after the day she
walked down the street.<br />
<br />
I wonder if she just stayed low. I wonder if kept a strict
rule: park benches and under!<br />
<br />
I wonder if she just spent whatever could’ve possibly been
left of the life, of a walking from grassy place to grassy place, trying to
muster up some food.<br />
<br />
I wonder if she felt the way so many feel, when they feel
they don’t measure up? (I hate to even allow this word to travel across my
scarred brain!) <br />
<br />
I wonder if she felt insignificant. <br />
<br />
That word. <br />
<br />
I am ashamed of myself for even letting it flutter across
this QWERTY keyboard!<br />
<br />
It is profanity in the highest ranks of all that is profane.<br />
<br />
Reluctantly, I will again use my previous obscenity…insignificant.<br />
<br />
I don’t know for sure if insignificance banished her from
flight, but her feelings of such certainly seemed to keep her on the ground.<br />
<br />
Feeling insignificant can be the most swallowing,
overwhelming feeling. I’ve known the feeling. I’ve known it well. I’ve known it
recently. I’ve known its weight.<br />
<br />
This bird, this bird that walked down the street, she’s been
in my heart and mind so much. I’ve been thinking about her for over fifteen
years.<br />
<br />
In other words, she has not been insignificant to me.<br />
<br />
And I was just a bored guy, looking out a door.<br />
<br />
Just a human.<br />
<br />
If she wasn’t insignificant to me, can you imagine how God
feels about her?<br />
<br />
If she wasn’t insignificant to God, can you imagine how God
feels about you?!<br />
<br />
I can imagine.<br />
<br />
God feels like you are significant.<br />
<br />
(Well, actually…he knows it.)<br />
<br />
So go fly!<br />
<br />
(Oh...and don't be afraid to fly!)<br />
</div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-61395621892657703132012-11-28T10:32:00.001-08:002012-11-28T10:46:49.022-08:00I've got a calling...I don't need a title.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: #274e13; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Please read this carefully.</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">I want to say this as kindly and gently a way as possible. </span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Also, I'm saying this about ME, not anyone else...this is a personal
request from me, not a commentary on any person or organization.</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">I've known, and walked in, my calling and gifting as a pastor
for over 25 years. Whether I was shepherding in the capacity of a church staff
member...or as a friend, co-worker or simply a passer-by in everyday life. My
calling is who I am, not what I do. It's my life, not a position.</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">My calling is to pastor. To teach, to be a visionary, and to
lead people to seek Christ. That's what my calling has always been…it's what
I've done. Position or no position. This calling to lead at Lifepoint is just a
natural progression, but it doesn't make me any better than anyone else and it
CERTAINLY doesn't make me any closer to God! (The curtain in the temple was
torn in two for YOU just like it was for me!</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">So, please, don't hold me in any higher esteem than any other
Christ follower. Please don't put any titles on me. My name is Paul Ollie
Horne, Sr. I prefer Ollie, by the way. (Interestingly, "Paul" means
humble…"Ollie" means peace. I think my name speaks all the title I
need.)</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">"They love to sit at the head table at church dinners,
basking in the most prominent positions, preening in the radiance of public
flattery, receiving honorary degrees, and getting called 'Doctor' and
'Reverend.' "Don't let people do that to you, put you on a pedestal like
that. You all have a single Teacher, and you are all classmates. Don't set
people up as experts over your life, letting them tell you what to do. Save
that authority for God; let him tell you what to do. No one else should carry
the title of 'Father'; you have only one Father, and he's in heaven. And don't
let people maneuver you into taking charge of them. There is only one
Life-Leader for you and them—Christ. (Matthew 23:6-10 MSG)</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 8.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-73955330314212405812012-10-10T21:17:00.000-07:002012-10-10T21:18:39.643-07:00Could...but didn't. (A bird took a walk down the street.)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(I've told it before.)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One day, it was a rainy day; I saw a bird walking down the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A bird, complete with wings & feathers, walked at least a full city
block and a half.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I thought it was strange, in consideration of such amazing
capabilities...this bird walked...with the ability to fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I still wonder why the bird didn't fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he was never encouraged to fly, and didn't know he could...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he was waiting for the right time, (the most stale of all excuses)…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he was never pushed, and became lazy...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he flew into a window, and adamantly decided to never be fooled
again... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he tried to fly, but failed…and fell...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe he just didn't want to fly...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whatever the reason, this bird reasoned to not use his most enviable gift...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...Flight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Can you imagine? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Flying?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Think about the time, maybe decades ago, when you
dreamed of lifting off and
freeing yourself from these "surly bonds,” spreading your arm-wings and
soaring above cars and playgrounds and the mortals of terra firma!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No more stuck in traffic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your friends in utter awe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With basketball skills to die for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And how would you clear your mind? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh...yeah...go for a little flight around the
subdivision!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We wish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We fantasize. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For this thing...this AMAZING thing...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That is the natural, innate ability...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of a bird...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who had the audacity...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To walk...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When he could fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's enough to almost make you angry...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Plenty enough to make you wonder...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And beg the question "why?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why, bird?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I saw that bird in 1998.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I’ve lived almost fifteen years with this apparitional memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Breathe for a
second.)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, honestly my deep concern isn't really
for this unfilled feathered failure not living up to his potential.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What concerns me is the image I see here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm haunted by the metaphor!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm haunted because I see myself...walking in the
rain...afraid to fly...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Afraid to, refusing to, use that thing so bestowed
upon me, others strain to restrain
their envy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And still I think of a thousand excuses…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize a thousand fears…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I focus on a handful of discouragers…(instead of
the thousand of you who encourage.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know I can fly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For me, my wings are words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spoken, written, crafted together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In my gift of being a word-crafter, I HAVE THE SUPERHUMAN
ABILITY OF FLIGHT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know this. It's what is true of me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is my delight and joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the means to my passion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the means to my dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the means to my calling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the manifestation of my calling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It IS my calling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the breath my Daddy uses, to breathe life
into this pile of dust, held in Divinity's palm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is my brick in this eternal building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With the haunting memory of that bird's walk, and his
un-utilized gift…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I allegorically step to the edge…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spread my arms,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And kick fear and denial where it hurts!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's what I must do, to do what I must do!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I HAVE TO LIVE, FULLY ALIVE!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so now I'm asking you…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With bitter tears and a fear of making you feel
judged…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But an even greater desire to see you live FULL…FULFILLED.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 21.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why are you walking…beautiful bird?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-27792142927056727062012-10-04T13:34:00.002-07:002012-10-04T13:34:39.782-07:00Dear Church...are we?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
John 13:33-37 (The Message)</div>
<div class="p1">
"Children, I am with you for only a short time longer. You are going to look high and low for me. But just as I told the Jews, I'm telling you: 'Where I go, you are not able to come.' 34 "Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. 35 This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples - when they see the love you have for each other." 36 Simon Peter asked, "Master, just where are you going?" Jesus answered, "You can't now follow me where I'm going. You will follow later." 37 "Master," said Peter, "why can't I follow now? I'll lay down my life for you!"</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
I love this. </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The deal has been made. Judas sold him out.</div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus is really just hours from the end of his natural life. </div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus has some very important information to impart.</div>
<div class="p1">
Something new. (Remember, "new." Okay?)</div>
<div class="p1">
Something Jesus has basically been waiting his whole life (not just the thirty or so he's been on earth…but the eternity before "earth" was even ever spoken) to lay out his plan and share it with humanity.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
So, yeah…new.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus said, "Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another."</div>
<div class="p1">
"Let me give you a new command."</div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus said "new."</div>
<div class="p1">
But not new like the marketing department's ploy to make you think their product has been made better (but actually contains the same product, now just in a sexier package) when they post on the package "New Look…Same Product." (This is what I call "deceptive honesty." Um…yeah…okay...)</div>
<div class="p1">
Not that kind of new.</div>
<div class="p1">
But the kind of new synonomous with words like unprecedented, uncommon…wait, try this one…unheard of. Remember when I said to remember "new"?</div>
<div class="p1">
Well, it seems to me, Jesus is talking to the Disciples, with this kind of wide-eyed, hold-on-to-your-seats, this-is-going-to-blow-you-away and shake-up-what-you-believe kind of new theology (doesn't "theology" sound completely inadequate?)</div>
<div class="p1">
But that's exactly what this word "new" meant.</div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus is about to be arrested, endure the most brutal, multiple beatings, falsely accused, wrongly convicted, and shamefully executed…and is trying to impart the most important thing he's ever said, and set forth the command for the church…and the identity obeying the command would confer.</div>
<div class="p1">
Here's what he said, again.</div>
<div class="p1">
"Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples - when they see the love you have for each other."</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
Two words: Earth Shattering!</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
Can you imagine?</div>
<div class="p3">
You've spent your whole life trying desperately to follow an impossible to remember list of laws and commands.</div>
<div class="p3">
Then you spent about the last three years with the man who claims to be the one who gave Moses those laws and commandments and those commands you had to obey to make sure you obeyed the other commands.</div>
<div class="p3">
Commands on top of commands, on top of commands.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
And Jesus comes along and says he's got a new command. </div>
<div class="p1">
Love people.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
And not only that, but this. </div>
<div class="p1">
If you obey this command, people will know you're learning from me. </div>
<div class="p1">
People will know you're my disciple…</div>
<div class="p1">
…Not because the robe you wear.</div>
<div class="p1">
…Not because the tassels on your robe.</div>
<div class="p1">
…Not because of any other thing…</div>
<div class="p1">
…But showing love.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
This was, even compared to all the crazy things they had ever heard from the mouth of the Messiah, in redundancy: earth shattering.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
But you know what gets me?</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
In over 2000 years, the Church really hasn't changed that much.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Jesus says I'm outta here, 'kay? You won't be able to find me when I leave...and before I go and leave you to finish, you need this important order: love.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
And what did Peter do/say?</div>
<div class="p1">
Peter completely ignored Jesus' command and started freaking out about Jesus leaving.</div>
<div class="p1">
"I wanna go with you!!"</div>
<div class="p1">
"I promise I'll be good!"</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Peter completely disregarded Jesus' command.</div>
<div class="p1">
Peter was looking for something else in the Messiah…and sometimes it seems that's all he could see.</div>
<div class="p1">
Peter was looking for a position. (That's what I used to look for.)</div>
<div class="p1">
Peter was looking for prosperity. (That's what I used to look for.)</div>
<div class="p1">
Peter was looking for power. (That's what I used to look for.)</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
But Peter wasn't looking in the mirror. (Me either.)</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Peter was looking for something new, but Peter wasn't looking at Jesus "new command."</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Dear Church…are we?</div>
</div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-39876885276188243792012-07-18T08:01:00.001-07:002012-07-18T08:01:29.517-07:00Two Stacks, Neatly Folded<div><p>I'm a passionate believer that it's been mandated to me to be and live transparently. And I'd rather take a chance at embarrassing myself...and maybe, just maybe help someone else.<br>
If you want to call me cheesy or dumb or insane, well...thanks for the compliment!<br>
I've had this same dream SEVERAL times lately.<br>
In my dream, there are two stacks of neatly folded clothes on our bed. <br>
One stack of clothes is self-doubt, frustration, bitterness, worry, fear, judgmentalism, etc.<br>
The other stack is joy, happiness, trust, self-discipline, love, etc.<br>
I'm confronted by these two stacks of clothes and a decision: one stack I have to put away (so they'll be ready to wear when I need them)...the other stack must be THROWN away (so I can never wear them again.)<br>
In this recurring dream, I have to decide what I'm going to keep & wear...and what I'm going to get rid of and never wear.<br>
The dream is very straight forward and easily understandable. It's no surprise that I'd dream it, because it's the discipline I've chosen to confront...but it's an interesting dream.<br>
Like I said, I dream this over & over! I've shared this dream with a few people, but dreamed it again last night, and decided to share it with everyone. If it means anything to you...let it speak, if not, well you'll still have plenty of time for other activities today...<br>
I love you...and encourage you to consider what you wear today.<br>
</p>
</div>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-8981135176280938432012-06-11T10:32:00.001-07:002012-06-11T10:32:37.433-07:00Exintingushing Bridges<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to be quick to burn bridges. My stubborn refusal to forgive...or
apologize has often left me trapped at dead-ends with only smoldering
ruins behind me.<br />
I'm learning there's something better than blame, bitterness and burning bridges. This discipline isn't easy, but worth it.<br />
And it leads to a much more fulfilling life!<br />
I AM ALIVE! (Watch me live.)</div>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-87480950726221783702012-02-16T12:01:00.000-08:002012-02-16T12:01:38.303-08:00An Update...and other stuff...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<em>Hey everyone...thanks in advance for always giving me the space to be Ollie.</em><br />
<em>I don't want to make this a long, drawn out thing...but I also have to share all the rest of my heart in this process.</em><br />
<br /><br />
For as long as I remember, at my dad's church, we used to sing this song (which I always felt was kind of cheesy...and I REALLY struggle cheesiness, especially when its applied to God)...but we used to sing this song called, "I Just Feel Like Something Good Is About To Happen."<br />
Several months ago, that song popped into my brain's music rotation. From out of nowhere, I suddenly, and constantly found myself singing this big cheese pizza song, seasoned with overwhelming hope.<br />
<br />
"I just feel like something good is about to happen...and brother, this could be that very day."<br />
<br />
I was singing this song...unable to shake it. It's not really my genre...but it was lodged in my heart and head...for months.<br />
Until it reached a crescendo of excitement and emotion...on January 26th. On that day, I just happened to be on a layover in Lagos, Nigeria.<br />
I didn't have internet service in my room, so, on this layover, I generally sit in the hotel lobby where free wifi is ever-so-slowly available.<br />
I sat in the lobby, chatting with Cristi. I had told her several times about this song stuck in my head...and told her again this day, "Baby, I don't know why...but I simply just feel like something good is about to happen!"<br />
<br />
We were both so very encouraged! I've been working on this book, we're really focusing on living our dreams...we feel such a passion for not just "life" but for TRULY LIVING A FULL LIFE! And this song seemed to be just the encouragement we needed to push us over the edge and, well, just make us know that "life" was actually happening!<br />
So after a bit of chatting and dreaming...and a plate of fish and chips...I went to my room to get ready for my flight home.<br />
<br />
I showed up for pick-up...and really felt physically, emotionally, spiritually AMAZING! I had spent some time working on my book and dreaming...<br />
<br />
I couldn't wait to get home and see where this excitement for life was going to take Cristi, the kids and me.<br />
<br />
But I didn't quite make it home that night...<br />
<br />
Shortly after boarding the plane, while preparing to receive passengers, my brain decided to teach me a crash course in expressive dancing...I put my right-side in, did the hokey-pokey, and shook it all about. (I had a few seizures.)<br />
<br />
I was transported to an incredible facility on Victoria Island in Lagos called Reddington Hospital. I had amazing care from a Harvard-trained neurologist, a first-rate cardiologist, and some amazing, highly trained Registered Nurses such as Victor Michael. (I really recieved a truly holistic care...medically, emotionally, spiritually...while in Nigeria.)<br />
I also want to say how truly thankful I am to the crew I was working with on that trip! Georgia, Karen, Carlis, Beverly, Bridgetta, Jeffrey and Robert...plus the pilots! When I came to, and was surrounded by a crew of praying fellow co-workers...telling me I was loved...I knew everything was going to end up just fine. ("Vanilla Thunder" loves you all VERY MUCH!)<br />
I also want to thank all the people at Delta OCC and the supervisors (Philip, Lantz, Lori and Sam) as well as the staff from InternationalSOS, who provided such amazing care in getting me home and communicating with my family. (I especially want to thank Dr. Barbara Hanke who escorted me home. I've never experienced such a seamless balance between medical professionalism and just genuine nurturing in my life!)<br />
As frightening as the experience could have been, I feel so fortunate and purely blessed, through it all.<br />
<br />
As soon as I arrived in Atlanta, I was transported immediately to Atlanta's Emory Hospital for MRIs and other evaluations. There, the tumor that was diagnosed in Nigeria was confirmed, and I was scheduled for brain surgery. <br />
The tumor was removed (although, I'm honestly not sure if it was ALL removed, etc.) on February 6th.<br />
<br />
So, yesterday, I got the pathology report from the staff at Winship Cancer Institute at Emory. The diagnosis is Stage 4, Glioblastoma. It's supposedly an aggressive form of brain cancer.<br />
I have another appointment on Tuesday, February 21st with the entire medical team...and another with the oncologist on February 24th. I'll know more about the process of treatment on these dates. But, the initial plan is, of course, for six weeks of radiation and about a year of chemotherapy. And, I've been told I'm a prefect candidate for a new, aggressive, clinical trial.<br />
<br />
I know this may all sound daunting...but I have to be honest with where I am in this whole process...emotionally, physically, spiritually, etc.<br />
<br />
I'm really okay. Really.<br />
<br />
I don't think I've ever felt more secure and at ease with anything in my life! I simply feel like my Daddy has everything under control and is taking me on this journey. And I couldn't be more excited to see what he has in store!<br />
<br />
My theme for the last several years has been this overwhelming, unquenchable desire to change the world. I mean, I want to change the world. I want to see people realizing all the fullness of life...I want to see people living out of their passions and knowing the thrill, the pleasure, the joy of being ALIVE!<br />
<br />
I've really been examining my heart, to try and discern if I'm just taking on an unrealistic "pollyanna" type approach...and my answer? No...I'm not. I sincerely feel my Daddy is taking me and family and my friends on this journey because he wants to show us he loves us. And I'm overwhelmingly convinced, he knows what he's doing.<br />
<br />
Realistically, I've thought about some of the health related issues I've encountered in the last few years. I've have had Atrial Fibrillation twice (actually, three times, I guess), I had to have my gall bladder removed and had arthroscopic knee surgery...and the way I see it, if God and medical science can deal with those issues...God and medical science can deal with brain cancer just as well. <br />
<br />
I don't feel any sense of stress, or panic, or desperation...I just feel secure. I feel loved. I feel ready to take on every single moment of life and live it to the fullest!<br />
<br />
And we need your prayer...(and please don't take this wrong) we don't need sympathy or desparation.We need encouragment and as much of life as possible to maintain some normality.<br />
<br />
We may all freak out tomorrow and fall apart...if we do, support us. But mostly, we need your love and support.<br />
<br />
I'm planning on living every single minute I have...I WILL NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER GIVE UP!<br />
\<br />
I love you all...and I'm grateful to be on this journey with you!<br />
Ollie <br />
<br />
I feel like something good is about to happen. </div>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-36032965613952352022012-02-02T03:54:00.001-08:002013-08-16T18:53:57.922-07:00I Simply, Smile.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
(Please forgive my gratuitous emotion and cheese...<br />
But I won't live a dishonest life.<br />
I will not withhold my passion.)<br />
<br />
Barren of leaves, <br />
This windblown tree. <br />
Withstanding Winter's toll, <br />
Firmly planted in the security, <br />
Of this gentle river flow. <br />
Let your violence buffet, howl. <br />
And bring your bitter snow. <br />
You'll succeed to only dig in my roots, <br />
To fertile soil below. <br />
Your deepest threat, <br />
Your fear...dark and grave, <br />
Your empty, hollow chide, <br />
Evokes a smile, in my resolve... <br />
Exposing this passion that resides. <br />
Your power to take, Is taken away. <br />
Your plan revealed futile, <br />
For as you scheme to strip away, <br />
Fruit finds production... <br />
And mocks you... <br />
All the while. <br />
So bring your winters' harshest, <br />
Though I tremble, <br />
Though I quake, <br />
And this fullness of life, <br />
This exuberant dance... <br />
Is found here in your wake. <br />
Full beyond containment... <br />
I simply, smile. </div>
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-41509223395012698372012-01-20T01:22:00.001-08:002012-01-20T18:46:48.093-08:00A Manifesto for a Catalyst<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A Dream, A Crazy Idea, An Insane Hypothesis...A Plan. </span></b></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Conceived of a dream, I have a "Crazy Idea." (If you know me, you know this.)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And borne of that conception: "An Insane Hypothesis."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
My dream...that the world would change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
My crazy idea...that the world actually COULD change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
My "Insane Hypothesis"...(I've been out-on-a-limb before...but now I'm out there where the branches get really thin...and I'm okay with that!)...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Ready?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Okay.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I Believe We Can See Significant, Discernible World Change...Within Five Years!</span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
That's right.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I said it...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Five Years.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Having the dream was great. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Hope comes from dreams.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I've had hope.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
That dream, that hope, lead me to my crazy idea...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This idea took my dream, and created this frustrating stirring.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The kind that keeps you up at night.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The kind that makes you write words, and poems, </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And say crazy things...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Crazy, crazy things.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And those crazy ideas lead to an insane hypothesis.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The kind that makes people question your lucidity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But it can also lead to lots of ambiguity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Dreams...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And ideas...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And even hypothesis...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But these, without some direction...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
...just makes you feel as though you've crossed the rail and taken a flying leap into a sea of ambiguity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And people don't deal well with ambiguity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But, after a few years of soaking up all sorts of potentialities in that ambiguity...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I have emerged.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I have emerged...dangerous.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
See, not only am I a dreamer.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm a dreamer...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
With a plan.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
So, let me give this hypothesis again... </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b>I BELIEVE WE CAN SEE SIGNIFICANT, DISCERNIBLE WORLD CHANGE...WITHIN FIVE YEARS!</b></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
(And my five year estimate...well that's a conservative estimate. Huh! Huh! The conservative estimate of a crazy dreamer! That made me laugh.)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And it goes something like this: if the Church would makes some deliberate changes...the sheer shock of those changes* would propel the world into obvious change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
*Changes. If the world found us obviously and overwhelmingly fulfilled in life; and passionate, loving and non-judgmental.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>For The World To Change The Church Has To Change.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Yep. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The CHURCH has to change. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To hear what we've said, for at least the past half millenium or so, we've been waiting for the world to change...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've been laying this obligation at the world's feet.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But, since way back in the OT, it's been our responsibility. (Go read 2 Chronicles 7:14)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
For the world to change, the church has to change...on purpose. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We all want to see the world change. But it appears we hope this will happen by some kind of good-luck serendipity. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Like world-change will happen accidentally...like getting T-boned by a Buick LeSabre.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
(This made me laugh too. Like we're driving along...and BAM! "Dude! What just happened? Everyone alright? Wait...hey! The world just changed!!")</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm a huge believer in prayer, and singing, and meeting, and talking...but at some point we've got to add to this, proactivity...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
You know...if we want the world to change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Yes, for the world to change...we've got to change. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've got to change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've got to change our approach to some things. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Our approach to ourselves, and to the world, tends to be one of pandering to guilt and fear. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But God's original plan for humanity wasn't fear...it wasn't guilt...it wasn't death...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It was life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
God's original plan for humanity was that we'd experience full life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Adam and Eve Ruined the World's First Nudist Resort.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
At the onset of creation...actually probably for eternity before this point in time...God wanted some simple things for humanity. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
He wanted unencumbered community. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
He wanted us to enjoy true community with each other. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
He wanted us to enjoy creation.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Well...he wanted us to enjoy, to realize, to live...full life. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Full life. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This is what Adam and Eve had...full life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They were, both in reality and in metaphor, completely open and honest about who they were.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They hid nothing from themselves...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Nothing from each other...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Nothing from God.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They experienced no sense of shame or guilt or death.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They truly lived...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Feasting upon life itself... </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Their very sustenance being the tree of life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Until one day, through fatal deception...turned their focus to a different kind of knowledge...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The knowledge of good and evil.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The knowledge of death.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
(Have you ever thought about the fact that the only reason we understand comparing good and evil, is because we were lied to by Satan?!)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This was not, eh-hem, God's plan for humanity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Since this commission of "original sin," the focus of the church (and religion in general has predominately focused on "good and evil"...and death...ever since.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Our vantage point of the church and the world has been from the leafy foliage of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But it doesn't have to be this way. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It shouldn't be this way.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This...was NOT the plan.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And someone came along to redeem the plan.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Someone came along to free us from our focus on death...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And return our focus to life. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Jesus' express purpose for coming to earth was that we "may have life and have it to the full."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Jesus came to redeem us to life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To carry us from the branches of death...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Back to dining from the plentiful fruit of the tree of life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We must turn our focus back to LIFE...and away from death.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Latin Phrase Application</span></b> </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
A huge part of this whole world-change thing, is, of course, reaching out.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But something has to happen first.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Before we can reach out...we must reach in.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need to know what we really have...so we can really know what we have to give.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We must find our dream, our passion, our goal, our gifts and abilities.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
You would think this would be amazingly simple.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I don't think so. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I think, quite often, the person we know the least...is ourself.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Our hearts and brains are barraged with advice, compliments and complaints.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We're told what we should be, what we should do, what we should feel and how we should act...by everyone from birth to death.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We face such a wide variety of</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
emotions, whims and wild fantasies...that our true dream, goal and passion become smothered and unrecognizable.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We're told, that when we are pliable to God, our heart's desire will be granted.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But how do we even know what our heart truly wants? </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To start, we need to apply to ourselves, the account by Caesar, of an ancient battle in central Turkey:</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
"Veni. Vidi. Vici." </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I used to get so frustrated with the "OBVIOUS contradiction" (sarcasm inferred) of Jeremiah 17:9...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I used to read this verse...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Or have this verse quoted to me (EVERYTIME I mentioned my dream)...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And experience such overwhelming confusion...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
"Why would the Bible contain so many reference to 'heart's desire,' 'believing with our heart,' 'trusting with all our heart,' etc...when our heart was so deceptive?"</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Until...I read the rest of the chapter. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Then, I realized, finding the truth of who we are...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And what we're supposed to be doing...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And the direction we're supposed to be heading...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Takes some for real discipline...some real digging. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I Came. I Saw. I Conquered.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I Came.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We must "come to ourselves." </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We have to place our trust in God and take some time to have our hearts examined. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
While it's great to take under advisement the compliments and critiques of others, we have to take time to come to ourselves find lies beneath the fancies and notions...to see the truth that exists.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To find our true passion.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need to come to ourselves. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I Saw. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We must "see our giants."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We have to identify our habits and hinderances... The barriers that stand between where we are and where we need to be...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
So often, we are our own Goliath (there should be a link here to a blog I once wrote) and the "giant" we must defeat...is us.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need to see.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I Conquered.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We must "conquer ourselves."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We have to conquer those things we've seen. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I have to conquer the things about me, that keep me, from being the me...I was created to be.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need to conquer.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It takes discipline to find who we are...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And BE who we are.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But when we do...we find what provides us with a full life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And when we find that passion, that goal, that dream, that thing that provides us with a fulfilled life...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We can then offer full life to others.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Yes...then.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Humans are plagued with this subconscious thinking: "If my life stinks, why shouldn't everyone's life stink?"</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But if we enjoy life and are fulfilled...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We can offer joy and a full life to others.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And, you know what?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We have to avoid the lie of false-humility...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
As it turns out...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
You actually ARE WORTHY of living a fulfilled life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
In our attempt at humility, we often say we're not worthy...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
That we don't deserve this full life we've been offered.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But we are worthy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Why? Because Jesus died and rose again to make us worthy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
You want to be humble? Humble in honesty?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Honest humility is found in our realization that we've been made worthy, because Jesus made us worthy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
He made me worthy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
He paid for that with his life...with his death.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And this...makes me cry. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
(I had to stop and breathe here for a couple minutes.)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Now that we've started to find this full life...let's move.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Let's move out.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I've Got A Problem With The "Occupy" Movement...Prove Love.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The first part of this subset is laced with ignorance.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Honestly. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And this is nothing to do with the politics, demands, concerns of the Occupy movement. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I've heard little bits and pieces of a couple of varied percentage points...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But I don't know much about them other than the fact that their obvious means to their end...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Is to, as their name suggests, occupy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They apparently have some kind of loose organization...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They have some sort of hierarchy...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They assemble.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They sing.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They shout.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They spread ideals.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But...basically...they occupy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
They fill space.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And this really doesn't make a difference.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This doesn't really change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
How do I know?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Well, we've got several hundreds years of proof...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Occupying our pews...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Occupying our buildings...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Occupying our campuses...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It doesn't matter how righteous your cause...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If it's mostly conversation...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If it's mostly occupation...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It's mostly not going to change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need proactivity.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We need to Prove Love.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
A few salient comments about love...from the Book.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The command of Christ, is to love. (John 13:34)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
True theology, is to love. (1 John 4:7)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The proper response to sin, is to love. (1 Peter 4:8)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've been called here to prove love...to provide life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And love is actually pretty simple.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
It's really, simply about treating people the way we want to be treated.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Have you ever been to a wedding, officiated by some sort of minister of the Christian faith?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Then you've probably heard Paul's famous discourse on love.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Everything in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 deals with how "love" actively treats others.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And, if you think about it...it's how we, ourselves, want to be treated.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And that's what Jesus said sums up "the law and the prophets."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Love's a simple thing...really. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And...love takes discipline (that's why Jesus said love is the proof of discipleship).</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And...love takes dedication. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When we have a full-life, we want to share full-life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When we realize the joy of living a full-life...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When we find our true passion and calling...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And we live that...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We want to share that with others.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When we want to share that with others, we want to prove love to others.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When the world sees this change...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This change in our actions, our attitudes, our life...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When the world sees this change...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This change to proving love, as opposed to pointing out sin and providing judgement...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
My contention is...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
When the world sees this change...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
That change will be a catalyst...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Which will propel the world...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To Change.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sign On The Dotted Line</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I know I'm crazy.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I know this is a silly dream...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
A crazy idea...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
An insane hypothesis...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I know I'm crazy enough to believe this can happen.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm crazy enough to dream this...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm crazy enough to have this vision... </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And if I'm this crazy...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm going to ask you to be crazy too.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm going to ask you to be crazy enough...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To buy-in to this vision.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This dream.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This crazy idea.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This insane hypothesis.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm asking you to join me.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And, really...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
What's the worst that could happen?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Really?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If we make these deliberate changes...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If we find and live a full life...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If we prove love, and offer full life to the world...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And the world ACTUALLY changes...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
If, within five years, we ACTUALLY see significant, discernible world-change... </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
AWESOME! </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Yay! (You know?)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
But even if it doesn't...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Even if, within five years, we don't actually see significant, discerirnible world-change...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Guess what?</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've still learned who we are and the passion of our life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've still realized a "life to the full." </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've still proven love to the world.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
We've still shared this "life to the full" with the world.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And if we do that...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
AWESOME!</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Yay! (You know...)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
In a little over a month, we find ourselves back in a very special time in the church calendar...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The season of Lent. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Last year I had the idea of a "Lent Dent"...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I had the idea that, what if, in preparation for Resurrection...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Instead of a fast that focuses on us...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And what we're giving up...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
What if we focused on others...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And what we can give to them.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I'm asking you to take the next month or so,</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And begin this process of applying "Veni. Vidi. Vici." to yourself.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To begin the process of finding...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Your passion...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Your gift...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Your call...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Your purpose...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Your full life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
And starting (not ending, but starting) this Lent Season...</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Prove Love.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Show Full Life.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Be a catalyst.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
To change the world. </div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<i>If you know me, you know this...<br />
I Love You!<br />
Ollie Horne,<br />
A Dreamer...with a plan.<br />
</i></div>
</div>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-65636419365467891462011-11-23T05:44:00.003-08:002011-11-23T10:19:51.709-08:00A Poet, UnintentionalRain-stained window pane, <br />
And through it flannel clouds. <br />
Road signs and power lines, <br />
And the shadow of my doubt. <br />
Real feel, wind chill, <br />
But my heart's fire blazes. <br />
Bow low and undergo, <br />
A metamorphisis from curses to praises. <br />
No more a metaphor, <br />
This is the Presence of Divine. <br />
Undeniable, I know You. <br />
Though, <br />
I find you undefined. <br />
Daddy, son. Two, well...one. <br />
And like a surrender to gravity's pull. <br />
An open heart, words depart, <br />
And my response? I am a poet, Unintentional. <br />
<br />
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-55546689772263378702011-11-14T11:34:00.000-08:002011-11-14T11:34:52.056-08:00Post-It NoteYou drew a heart on a Post-it Note, and posted it on my heart.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The gentle thrill,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
How your fingertips feel, <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Pressing this proof firmly in place,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Tears race down my face,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And in my mirror's reflection I see,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
No, no, no longer my inadequacy,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But now an identity,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You've lovingly bestowed upon, and brought forth in me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's like me...but not me,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's like it's me...but a FREE...ME! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A simple heart on mine,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The two, in syncopated rhythm, beating intertwined.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The shaking created by the pounding,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A resurfacing, a resounding...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A dream, in a place where dreams cowered, formerly forbidden...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Uncovered, unearthed, undeniably now...unhidden!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A banishing of barreness, a resurrection, a resuming,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm intrigued by the flames' habitude of sustaining, while concurrently consuming!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Imposing hedges that stood between, <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Myself, and the Unseen. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Indomitable, this passion surpasses,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A barrier...diminished to ashes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This passion now knowing free reign,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
These flames burn, untamed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But in my ear, <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A whispered fear,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's certainly been displaced, erased, defaced...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And my finger reaches to my chest and I retrace.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Finding on the skin above pericardia,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
An identifying mark,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mark, what am I saying? No! It's ART! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Composed in ink, inexpungible,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Untouchable,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Undefiled it remains...the same,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Only now...more defined.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
More recognizable, I find.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Not that transitory paper, but on my heart a brand, a tattoo...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Engraved upon me, but whose ink-filled needles' pain, you knew.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I've lost myself, but in the losing, I've discovered,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The reality of me, this true me, you've uncovered.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My heart is yours.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-89235249641343487412011-11-06T06:22:00.000-08:002011-11-06T06:22:51.980-08:00"I said, 'Give me the putter.'""Give me the putter." <br />
<br />
That's what Poppy said.<br />
<br />
"Give me the putter."<br />
<br />
An old man.<br />
<br />
An occasional golfer.<br />
<br />
And Poppy said...<br />
<br />
"Give me the putter."<br />
<br />
The putter.<br />
<br />
I've been in this place of trying to find my fit in this thing we call "ministry" for something like 25 years.<br />
<br />
I've tried being the youth pastor, planning events and being very cool around teens.<br />
<br />
I've tried being the children's pastor, doing slap-stick comedy to minister to kids.<br />
<br />
I've tried being the pastor, wise and future-seeing.<br />
<br />
I've tried being the preacher, shouting and sweating and taking in deep breaths.<br />
<br />
I've tried being the missionary, adventurous and self-denying. <br />
<br />
I've never really tried to be me.<br />
<br />
All these attempts had aspects of being me, but being defined as such, just didn't fit.<br />
<br />
These weren't all failures. <br />
<br />
They even had great successes!<br />
<br />
They were used by my Daddy to build me up and teach me.<br />
<br />
But being defined by any of these definitions, alone, just didn't fit. <br />
<br />
I tried to wear everybody elses stuff and, man, it just didn't fit.<br />
<br />
I never really tried to be me. <br />
<br />
I tried to be what everybody else said I should be and, man, I just can't do it.<br />
<br />
I never REALLY tried to be me. <br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
I knew my gifting, my talent, my strength had to do with collecting sentences and putting words together...but I tried to do everything else.<br />
<br />
So much so that I lost sight of those gifts, and talents, and strengths.<br />
<br />
Like a bearded, island-trapped man drifting away from a blood-stained volleyball...I was drifting away from what made me alive.<br />
<br />
And I was glad to do it. <br />
<br />
I became so convinced that these things, about which I felt such passion, were in no way a modern-church marketable skill set. <br />
<br />
I was there for a long time.<br />
<br />
It's funny how things work. When we start pushing away from the things we lived for, we eventually can't even see them anymore.<br />
<br />
Eventually, we trade those faded dreams for something more substantial.<br />
<br />
Something more marketable.<br />
<br />
And once you've drifted that far from the things that make you feel alive, it's pretty hard to get them back.<br />
<br />
And sometimes, it takes something like having your life fall apart, to bring those things back into view.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
That kind of what happened to me. <br />
<br />
My dream, gifts, talents and myself...became separated by about 5000 miles...<br />
<br />
And I lost everything.<br />
<br />
I was broken, and I was angry. <br />
<br />
I was angry at the One who gave me this gift in the first place.<br />
<br />
The One I claimed I was following, when I walked away from gifts...well, He brought me back.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
I was down there. <br />
<br />
Somewhere down there where rock bottom is all you've got to stand on...<br />
<br />
Where there's nothing left but echoing drips of water drops, and a voice.<br />
<br />
A voice calling me up.<br />
<br />
Down there, you realize something.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
You realize you don't need alot...<br />
<br />
You realize you just need what works.<br />
<br />
What works for you.<br />
<br />
When the only way to look is up, you tend to look up.<br />
<br />
On that rough-solid pit floor...<br />
<br />
I found my dream, my passion, my gift...again.<br />
<br />
Poppy said, "Give me the putter."<br />
<br />
So I started using my gift.<br />
<br />
I started writing.<br />
<br />
I started collecting sentences and pithy phrases.<br />
<br />
And I used the tool I had.<br />
<br />
I wrote.<br />
<br />
I wrote about my burden.<br />
<br />
My burden?<br />
<br />
The state of the church.<br />
<br />
I wrote about my passion.<br />
<br />
My passion?<br />
<br />
Changing the world.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
I wrote.<br />
<br />
And I wrote.<br />
<br />
And I rewrote.<br />
<br />
And I wadded up and tossed aside...<br />
<br />
And I rewrote again.<br />
<br />
I wrote on aircraft jump seats, and park benches.<br />
<br />
I wrote in Starbucks and in hotel rooms.<br />
<br />
I wrote while sitting next to the Coliseum, the Eiffel Tower, Buckingham Palace, Stephens Green, the Arch, and at Israel's Mediterranean Sea coast.<br />
<br />
I wrote in Macbooks, iPads, smartphones, notebooks, memopads, napkins and the back of pre-departure reports.<br />
<br />
I wrote in almost every major U.S. city...<br />
<br />
And I wrote in Rome, Amsterdam, Mumbai, Zurich, Moscow, London, Frankfurt, Paris and Santiago.<br />
<br />
And then, I sat in Santiago...<br />
<br />
And I didn't write.<br />
<br />
Nope. <br />
<br />
I didn't write. <br />
<br />
I doubted.<br />
<br />
I looked at the plethora of mediums upon which I'd placed my words...<br />
<br />
I looked at my words.<br />
<br />
I looked at my sentences.<br />
<br />
Sentences.<br />
<br />
Not paragraphs.<br />
<br />
Most of the books I've read, contain chapter after chapter of sentences put together in paragraphs.<br />
<br />
I just had the sentences.<br />
<br />
My collection of sentences.<br />
<br />
And I doubted.<br />
<br />
I was discouraged.<br />
<br />
I self-deprecated.<br />
<br />
I was dying.<br />
<br />
I didn't want the putter.<br />
<br />
I cried.<br />
<br />
And I cried.<br />
<br />
And I sat there and, cried.<br />
<br />
And didn't want my gift.<br />
<br />
I didn't want "Ollie's way of doing it."<br />
<br />
But then, I wrote.<br />
<br />
I wrote about the doubt.<br />
<br />
I wrote about the fear.<br />
<br />
I wrote about feeling the duplicity of being both a withered flower blossom and a skinned-knee skating failure.<br />
<br />
I wrote about getting scooped up, loved on and believed in.<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
<br />
Believed IN.<br />
<br />
See, the one who gave me this gift, reminded me that he believed in the gifts he'd given me.<br />
<br />
And he believed in me.<br />
<br />
And I resolved, to believe in my gifts as well.<br />
<br />
Resolved. <br />
<br />
Realized.<br />
<br />
I realized a few things...<br />
<br />
I realized I have a burden.<br />
<br />
I realized I have a passion.<br />
<br />
I realized I have a calling.<br />
<br />
And, I realized I have a gift.<br />
<br />
I realized, that for the first time in either twenty-five or forty-two years, these four converged into one dual action capsule: my dream and God's will.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
And I hinged on a ledge of throwing it all away, because I doubted the gift, the tool entrusted to me to reach this end.<br />
<br />
But then, in a search for a few pieces written over the last couple years, I read through a few former blog posts, and I decided this:<br />
<br />
I like the way I write.<br />
<br />
I get excited about my oxy-moronic phrases that don't quite fit.<br />
<br />
I spend hours mulling over two words.<br />
<br />
This is the gift I've been given.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
I made a solemn vow. <br />
<br />
I vowed to my Daddy.<br />
<br />
I vowed to my family.<br />
<br />
I vowed to the Church.<br />
<br />
I vowed to the world.<br />
<br />
I will embrace this gift, this tool, and use it...<br />
<br />
To lift my burden,<br />
<br />
To indulge my passion,<br />
<br />
To fulfill my calling and, <br />
<br />
To realize my dream.<br />
<br />
I know it may not be the conventional tool.<br />
<br />
I know it may not be the wisest tool.<br />
<br />
I know it may not be the tool of theologians and scholars.<br />
<br />
But, it's the one that fits.<br />
<br />
That fits me.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter.<br />
<br />
I don't stand alone in my rebellion.<br />
<br />
There was a destined-to-be-king, adolescent shepherd who stood with me.<br />
<br />
When called upon for the simple task of defending his nation at war, he stood in my rebellion.<br />
<br />
He used what he knew he could use.<br />
<br />
The over-sized body armor owned by the king, didn't fit this kid.<br />
<br />
I mean, it seemed wise to wear it...<br />
<br />
But he rebelled.<br />
<br />
And his rebellion kind of paid off.<br />
<br />
You know that story.<br />
<br />
But you may not know the other story.<br />
<br />
It's a story about Poppy.<br />
<br />
I didn't know Poppy well, you probably didn't know him at all.<br />
<br />
But I sat in a mortuary's chapel yesterday.<br />
<br />
At the culmination of a week of doubt, and deliverance.<br />
<br />
Decision and determination.<br />
<br />
A week of resolution to use the gift I've been given to fulfill the challenge of my calling.<br />
<br />
I heard this story about another rebellion.<br />
<br />
One of my best friends, Joe, stood behind a flag-draped casket at the front of a chapel.<br />
<br />
He was recounting the life of a great man, his grandfather.<br />
<br />
A sailor.<br />
<br />
A daddy.<br />
<br />
An encourager.<br />
<br />
An admonisher.<br />
<br />
A "Poppy."<br />
<br />
By serendipity, one of the final stories resonated so deeply in my heart.<br />
<br />
By Divine design, settled my resolve.<br />
<br />
By a whisper from my Daddy, encouraged me to use the gift I've been given.<br />
<br />
Joe told a story of his annual golf battle with his Poppy.<br />
<br />
They played a course, better described as a cow pasture.<br />
<br />
Poppy didn't own his own clubs, but used Joe's.<br />
<br />
On the final hole, this old man was about 40 feet from the green's edge. <br />
<br />
And then, several more feet to the hole. <br />
<br />
Poppy looked at his grandson, Joe...<br />
<br />
And said, "Give me the putter."<br />
<br />
The incredulous, and golf-knowledgable, grandson rebuffed this request!<br />
<br />
"Poppy! The putter?!"<br />
<br />
Joe recommended more appropriate clubs. (I don't know golf.)<br />
<br />
He recommended clubs that would work for such a shot.<br />
<br />
Poppy said, "Give me the putter."<br />
<br />
In half pity for Poppy, in half competitive foreknowledge of this impending win...<br />
<br />
Joe relented. <br />
<br />
Poppy took hold of the putter, adjusted his stance, took aim at ball...<br />
<br />
And swung.<br />
<br />
Over ant-hills and patches of grass, onto the green and into the flag's pole, the ball travelled...<br />
<br />
And fell...<br />
<br />
Into the hole.<br />
<br />
In amazed disbelief, Joe stood with his mouth open! <br />
<br />
"Wow! Poppy! Wow!"<br />
<br />
In the midst of Joe's confoundment...<br />
<br />
Poppy looked at his grandson...<br />
<br />
And said,<br />
<br />
"I said, 'Give me the putter.'"<br />
<br />
Resolved.<br />
<br />
Give me the putter. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-39943770565712344902011-11-03T10:08:00.001-07:002011-11-03T10:08:32.661-07:00There are days...There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when discouragement is almost all I know.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when all I want is to shrink into some background.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when yesterday's blossomed petal, flutters to the ground in grotesque, withered dryness.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when rains pound down and clouds loom in low oppression.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when whatever gifts have been bestowed upon me, seem now useless piles, bundled together and boxed for delivery to second-hand stores.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when dreams seem not only out of reach, but no longer worth dreaming.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when what was free flying skates, flowing like the wind, are now skinned-knees and tears on concrete.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There days when I can't believe.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when I can no longer believe in me.<br />
<br />
There are these days.<br />
<br />
This is that day.<br />
<br />
Today.<br />
<br />
But, then.<br />
<br />
What is that sound?<br />
<br />
Today, I hear a sound.<br />
<br />
Footsteps.<br />
<br />
I hear footsteps running.<br />
<br />
Feet pounding pavement.<br />
<br />
Arms of insurmountable strength lift this wind-blown blossom.<br />
<br />
Lips purse and blow a soothing breeze upon my aching knees.<br />
<br />
And then kiss my furrowed brow.<br />
<br />
A gentle thumb wipes away the tear on my dusty cheek.<br />
<br />
You look deep in my eyes and remind me, "You can do this."<br />
<br />
I'm having trouble believing in you, when you speak words that jet beyond my ears to settle into my heart, "I believe in you."<br />
<br />
There are days when, my faith in you is waning.<br />
<br />
But there are no days when you reciprocate.<br />
<br />
There are days when I am lifted up.<br />
<br />
There are days.<br />
<br />
There are days when I must remember you put something in my heart.<br />
<br />
There are days when I must remember you wired in me, this weirdness.<br />
<br />
There are days when I must remember this quirky brain contains a gift.<br />
<br />
There are days when you remind me...<br />
<br />
You believe in me.<br />
<br />
This is that day.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-44753033858884831892011-10-20T06:41:00.001-07:002011-10-20T06:41:52.875-07:00Like JennyIt was his first time. <br/> <br/> And he walked timidly down the aisle. <br/> At each row he was again embraced by rejection. <br/> "Taken!" <br/> "Taken!" <br/> <br/> Then a little hand patted a seat. <br/> And a voice invited... <br/> "You can sit here!" <br/> <br/> She knew pain. <br/> She knew betrayal. <br/> She knew rejection. <br/> <br/> She could've used that knowledge as a justification for bitterness. <br/> <br/> Instead she used it for compassion. <br/> For acceptance. <br/> For love. <br/> <br/> I want to be like Jenny. <br/> <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4</div>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-87464740992255444502011-05-17T09:06:00.000-07:002011-05-17T23:37:03.893-07:00Unforgotten: The Gospel According to the Gummi Bears & Hearts Fun-Pack<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfArMkhUaK6SZDq63JbcvDSK6-ng7oSAjwmrFoqFmcenv9GvOsO3EQ2GUKJO041Tr4d0B92zbdwmPGDy0MtF_3ThBZNSIsxt4EEKcHuo1qtSQhoaeQlo6GJD2n2UWvWIbltLmLh_f9sk/s1600/0428010712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfArMkhUaK6SZDq63JbcvDSK6-ng7oSAjwmrFoqFmcenv9GvOsO3EQ2GUKJO041Tr4d0B92zbdwmPGDy0MtF_3ThBZNSIsxt4EEKcHuo1qtSQhoaeQlo6GJD2n2UWvWIbltLmLh_f9sk/s320/0428010712.jpg" /></a></div>It was a bag of chewy, red candy…<br />
Packaged with a purpose: to beckon another to “be mine.”<br />
The fun-sized package, in full holiday color, even down to the block of space for proclaiming love’s “to” and the commitment of “from.”<br />
All the romantic colors of a day created for the observance of romance.<br />
The colors of romance…<br />
With the exception of one ostentatiously plain…<br />
And overtly direct…<br />
Order.<br />
This order sat in stark contrast just under the blank space for “to” and “from.”<br />
All caps.<br />
Arial font.<br />
Four words, designed to confer explicit instructions.<br />
And the instructions jumped off the whimsical packaging, into my distracted brain.<br />
Four words:<br />
“USE A PERMANENT MARKER”<br />
No punctuation. No room for error. No mistaking the command.<br />
“USE A PERMANENT MARKER”<br />
<br />
As if the designer of the packaging were demanding of its giver: “If you’re going to give these gummies to someone, and declare some type of affection for them…you had better MEAN IT”<br />
Like it was saying…<br />
Well—it was saying exactly what it was saying…<br />
“Permanent.”<br />
Permanent.<br />
<br />
(I sighed here.)<br />
<br />
Transitory.<br />
I think that was the word.<br />
I saw it once in an outline for a talk I was to give and was, of course, forced to look for its meaning.<br />
(I like to know what words really mean, not just how they are used.)<br />
Transitory.<br />
In other words…<br />
“Doesn’t last.”<br />
Transitory means something that doesn’t last.<br />
Something that doesn’t stand the test of time…<br />
Something that is here today and—<br />
Well—<br />
Transitory…<br />
180 degrees south of the word permanent…<br />
Fading…<br />
Passing…<br />
Temporary.<br />
<br />
And that’s how we view so much of life…<br />
I’ve heard people say, “Everything came to PASS.”<br />
And sadly…<br />
Most believe it.<br />
Most people believe that everything came to pass…<br />
And nothing came to stay.<br />
People, quite often, view most of life as being transitory.<br />
Like trying to grasp hold of an uncontained gallon of water, is how most people view most of life…<br />
How most people view relationships…<br />
How many view love.<br />
Not that people don’t try to hold onto love and relationships…<br />
By in large, most people try desperately, vehemently to hang on to love and to make love work…but most, probably all, see love as something that can simply…<br />
Simply be…<br />
Transitory.<br />
<br />
As though the request to “be mine” was made…<br />
<br />
As though their name written in the blank under “to—“<br />
And the requestor’s name was subsequently written under “from—“<br />
The bears and hearts were delivered by hand and received…<br />
The fanciful package was placed in the safe carrier of a book bag and carried home…<br />
But in the process of the transfer…<br />
While rubbing across the surface of spiral-bound notebook covers and pencil boxes…<br />
The commitment of the romantic invitation…<br />
Was erased from the plastic packaging…<br />
As though the request was issued, but the instruction not heeded.<br />
That in the haste of pre-Valentine’s shopping and school preparation, the four-word requirement wasn’t met and the temporal ink of a Crayola marker was used instead…<br />
And the fading of the request meant the fading of the commitment made.<br />
<br />
I think maybe, people see love; that people see dedication—as a thing that time and circumstances can simply fade away…<br />
Parents divorce…and nurturing becomes weekend trips with half-siblings.<br />
Someone says they see you just as a friend, and an entire social network sees your “status” change to “single.”<br />
Three letters, BFF, turn to letters written in a yearbook, but not lived out through the passing of years.<br />
The person who opens doors and welcomes you in…closes a door and leaves you jobless…<br />
Your biggest fan breathes a final, painful breath…and now memories and photos are the closest thing you’ll ever have to the hug that always welcomed…<br />
Because of the circumstances of life on terra firma…<br />
We often see love…<br />
We often see commitment…<br />
We often see “remembering I’m alive,” as something that is…<br />
At its best…<br />
Transitory.<br />
<br />
But the requirement written on the package of Gummi Bears & Hearts Valentine’s candy still stares starkly.<br />
The four, simple words reminding of a commitment that was made…<br />
A love that is anything but transitory…<br />
A love and a devotion that is, indeed, written by someone, who truly understands…<br />
Someone who truly fulfills the command made in this gospel, to:<br />
“USE A PERMANENT MARKER.”<br />
A person who requests you to be his…<br />
And preemptively pays every price of requirement.<br />
<br />
But, I mean, you know that story.<br />
You’ve heard it…<br />
You may have PRAYED it…<br />
You may have “confessed” it…<br />
But sometimes…<br />
Sometimes…<br />
Do you BUY it?<br />
<br />
“USE A PERMANENT MARKER”<br />
<br />
JESUS GOT A TATTOO.<br />
(Oh snap…did I just type that?)<br />
<br />
A pricking under the skin…<br />
An intermetacarpal piercing…<br />
And an indelible mark remains.<br />
Indisputable.<br />
Undeniable.<br />
Unforgettable.<br />
<br />
Jesus got a tattoo.<br />
Yes, you did read that correctly.<br />
Jesus.<br />
Known as Master…<br />
Creator…<br />
King of kings…<br />
The Son of Man…<br />
The Son of God…<br />
The only begotten…<br />
The divider of time…<br />
The Alpha…<br />
The Omega…<br />
The personification of all that is Divine…<br />
Of all that is holy…<br />
Him.<br />
He climbed shamefully under-dressed… <br />
To the seediest of establishments…<br />
Spread out his hand…<br />
And with a careful searching for the prescribed physical locality…<br />
With full and fulfilled knowledge of Levitical Law…<br />
Jesus… <br />
Got a tattoo.<br />
He had himself…<br />
The temple of the Holy Spirit…<br />
MARKED.<br />
The spotless lamb, took upon his on flesh…<br />
The most beautiful of blemishes.<br />
He fulfilled the ancient folklore written centuries before.<br />
<br />
And for eternity after…<br />
He gazes upon that tattoo…<br />
His commitment of ultimate love.<br />
As his fingers trace the deep, dark outline of a name forever in its place…<br />
And he…<br />
REMEMBERS.<br />
Even when the bearer of that name thinks they have been forgotten…<br />
Even when the subject of that name feels unremembered.<br />
Jesus stares loving, through tear-filled eyes at the name of his beloved…<br />
The name written with such permanency, <br />
That not even Heaven…<br />
Or hell…<br />
Or all the pain between the two…<br />
Can ever remove.<br />
More permanent than any Sharpie marker ink chemist could ever fathom.<br />
And Jesus…<br />
REMEMBERS.<br />
He remembers a dedication…<br />
A nurturing, abiding love…<br />
More deep and more real and more undeniable than the love known by any mother for the baby for which they travailed…<br />
And second by second…<br />
Without fail…<br />
He recommits to, and commemorates, the love for the subject of his proudly displayed tattoo…<br />
His eternal adhering to the Gospel of the Gummi Bear wrapper is eternally fulfilled…<br />
Each moment, as Jesus remembers the name eternally inscribed on the palm of his hand.<br />
And the subject of this skin art…<br />
<br />
The name forever written in this brutally beautiful tattoo?<br />
Oh, that name?<br />
Well that name in that tattoo…<br />
Is yours.<br />
<br />
“<i>Can a mother forget the infant at her breast, walk away from the baby she bore? But even if mothers forget, I'd never forget you - never. <br />
“Look, I've written your names on the backs of my hands.”<br />
--Isaiah 49:15 & 16</i>Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-31606420473387661262011-04-18T07:28:00.000-07:002011-04-18T07:28:09.518-07:00Oh, this beautiful reflection!Shimmering.<br />
<br />
Shining.<br />
<br />
Glimmering.<br />
<br />
Glowing.<br />
<br />
A mad and beautiful ballet of bouncing light...dancing and darting around like a playground of over-stimulated school children finally unleashed from their desks...<br />
<br />
Oh, this beautiful reflection!<br />
<br />
I sit in awe...<br />
<br />
Amazement...<br />
<br />
It was at first a catching in the margins of peripheral vision...<br />
And soon became a complete seizure of my attention...<br />
<br />
From the secure four-point restraint of the one-left jumpseat...<br />
I was drawn to this flickering reflection...bringing life to the otherwise lifeless aiplane interior wall.<br />
<br />
I was entranced.<br />
<br />
And a broad smile involuntarily developed just inches below my astonished eyes.<br />
<br />
And apparently my fixated face caught the attention of my first class passengers.<br />
First seeing my face, then looking around for that thing that brought such joy...<br />
<br />
Then a comment, "Look at that..."<br />
<br />
And a reply,<br />
"Wow..."<br />
<br />
A thousand amber points of light, dancing wildly!<br />
<br />
Blue-jacketed business people having their attention drawn from their Bloody Mary's and black coffees..<br />
<br />
From the thoughts of depositions, meetings, and quotas not met...<br />
<br />
To this impormptu light show...<br />
<br />
Turning furrowed brows to smiling lips.<br />
<br />
Oh, this beautiful reflection!<br />
<br />
Upon "reaching a safe cruising altitude" I went to investigate the source of such a wonder-inspiring display.<br />
<br />
And my finding?<br />
<br />
A cheap bracelet of amber-colored plastic beads joined together by elastic bands on the wrist, joined to a hand frantically scribbling notes on a legal pad...<br />
<br />
And all this next to a raised window shade welcoming in glorious rays of sun.<br />
<br />
And the result of this convergence of dollar store plastic beads and unincumbered sunlight? <br />
<br />
Words like dazzling...<br />
<br />
Amazing...<br />
<br />
Breath-taking...<br />
<br />
Oh, this beautiful reflection!<br />
<br />
Here's quirky "Ollieism" number 4: I LOVE REFLECTIONS!<br />
<br />
I just find it amazing that such simplicity...<br />
<br />
Such as plastic beads...<br />
<br />
Or a bucket of rain water...<br />
<br />
Or a mud puddle...<br />
<br />
Can work together with the sun to create such beauty.<br />
<br />
Preformance art on unsuspecting surfaces.<br />
<br />
Making me smile...making me cry...making me want to write poetry or beautiful melodies in response.<br />
<br />
Oh, this beautiful reflection!<br />
<br />
And it makes me think of another convergence...<br />
<br />
A Bright Light shining in on an open and reflective surface.<br />
<br />
That surface?<br />
<br />
Us. <br />
<br />
That Bright Light?<br />
<br />
The Diety who loves the name Daddy.<br />
<br />
Oh...<br />
<br />
This beautiful reflection.<br />
<br />
I see this reflection revealing its beauty in multi-faceted displays...<br />
<br />
This brilliant shining...<br />
<br />
In an unforseen text.<br />
<br />
A wallpost of encouragement.<br />
<br />
A "no...you take this parking space" wave.<br />
<br />
An invitation to lunch.<br />
<br />
A little girl's "I love daddy" drawing.<br />
<br />
A self-sacrificial act.<br />
<br />
A smile.<br />
<br />
A high-five.<br />
<br />
A hug.<br />
<br />
I see this dazzling wonderment carried out in the lives of my family and friends in the way they bring beauty to my life.<br />
<br />
The way they open themselves up to being a purely reflective surface...<br />
<br />
Opening themselves to the Giver of life...<br />
<br />
To Eternal Light...<br />
<br />
And allowing that convergence creating ballets of light to wash across me...making me alive!<br />
<br />
I want to be that reflective surface.<br />
<br />
I want to be open, pure.<br />
<br />
I want that convergence...<br />
<br />
Creating this Divine display...<br />
<br />
Oh! This Beautiful Reflection!Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-51986421912210245572011-02-09T02:54:00.000-08:002011-02-09T02:54:17.042-08:00Desperation. Desire. Fire.Desperation. Desire. Fire.<br />
Cold, dead ashes bury the ember that survived the night.<br />
Refuse to surrender!<br />
Fight! Fight!<br />
Discarded refuse buries you, serves as fuel!<br />
Fan the flame! <br />
Fan the flame!<br />
Passionate fire builds with each heart beat,<br />
Feel the heat,<br />
That fills this room,<br />
Be consumed!<br />
Desperation! Desire! Fire!<br />
Cold and empty and nothing of consequence.<br />
No heat to be noticed, no flames to illuminate in their wild, passionate dance.<br />
Like a fireless fireplace was how I found my heart.<br />
After years of encouraging others to realize the passion of their hearts and live their dreams, I could see nothing in mine but emptiness. A cavernous space laiden with the ashes of a formerly raging fire.<br />
Dead.<br />
Empty.<br />
Ashes.<br />
Where had the fire gone?<br />
And why did it die?<br />
What purpose does a fireplace serve if it does not heat it’s environment, if it does not facilitate the fire?<br />
But the fire was gone and I felt cold.<br />
Like an painter with no canvas, I could see no way to express my art.<br />
And I thought there was always a fire burning. <br />
Like the Aish Tamid, the everburning flame, I thought the flames were ever-present and beckoning to bring heat.<br />
Or like the bush in the wilderness that arose the curiosity of a shepherd on the lam.<br />
But after a night void of fire-maintaining timber, there was nothing left to be noticed.<br />
Nothing, of course, but those dirty ashes. Just a chore that was sure to dirty the hands.<br />
It’s a sad thing when there’s nothing left of the passion of life. <br />
And that’s where I was, sad.<br />
Time to get to work cleaning out the ashes.<br />
The little broome and dustpan begin to stir the ashes into a swirl of floating dust, when suddenly something catches my eye.<br />
An orangish-red pebble of glowing and the immediate knowledge that heat is present. An ember has survived the night.<br />
An Ember!<br />
Proof that hope may still be alive!<br />
Inhale, purse the lips, fill the cheeks and exhale.<br />
A thinly streamed gust of air meets the ember and immediately it’s glow intensifies.<br />
So does it’s heat!<br />
Hope grows as the gusts of air blow.<br />
Gust of air.<br />
Wait a minute! A gust of air has brought back to life that dying ember!<br />
Gust of air. Pneuma.<br />
Pneuma. <br />
A word of Greek antiquity. <br />
It’s meaning: a gust of air. <br />
It’s translation to English: the Spirit.<br />
This Spirit blows into the heart of the dying ember, bringing it back to life.<br />
And as the ember’s heat grows it is in need of something more in order to build the kind of heat it must produce.<br />
It needs to be kindled.<br />
Kindling, the introducing of something to the minute fire that will make it grow.<br />
We use trash.<br />
At our house, in our fireplace, we use pieces of trash to kindle our fire.<br />
And so we do here. We bring the trash of our life to the glowing ember, heated by the Spirit’s forceful wind.<br />
Those things heaped onto our lives, the refuse discarded that lands on us and tries to identify us. We begin to bring to the fire.<br />
Consuming the trash, the fire grows. <br />
The glow of its flames dancing across your face.<br />
Can you feel that fledgling heat?<br />
Building.<br />
Growing.<br />
Burning.<br />
Glowing. <br />
And then, as the fire has grown, the time has come.<br />
A rough piece of split wood is placed into the fireplace.<br />
And an amazing thing begins to happen.<br />
The fire grows.<br />
And as the wood dissolves into ballet of flaming movement, more wood is added.<br />
And as it does more wood is added. And with each additional piece of wood, the heat grows.<br />
Growing and filling the room as tiny toes are defrosted, it’s cozy warmth inviting all.<br />
And what was once dead emptiness, ignored, avoided and put off for another day, has now become the center of attention for the room.<br />
Captivating, enticing, not to be ignored (use another word).<br />
Conversations are had with not an eye looking away.<br />
The icy chill of winter winds stand no chance against the raging, consuming passion of the fire.<br />
And immediately upon entering the room the fire…<br />
The fire is…<br />
Undoubtedly, decidedly…<br />
…NOTICED.<br />
Understanding the emotion and wonder of Moses, I can’t help but…<br />
…NOTICE.<br />
“I will go over and see this strange sight…”<br />
Passion stirs and I feel my heart race!<br />
I can’t sit still!<br />
I want to shout, to sing, to dance, to paint…to write words.<br />
I see my canvas in the light of raging flames.<br />
And I write my words feverishly.<br />
Growing with each strike of the finger against technological keys.<br />
The flames rage on…<br />
The dormant, dead, dirty ashes that once littered my heart, attempting to smother life…<br />
The ashes that hid that tiny ember…<br />
Have been traded in…<br />
And in exchange for the ashes…<br />
In exchange for the heaps of trash…<br />
What is giving?<br />
The crackling, consuming burning beauty…<br />
Of the fire.<br />
Desperation. Desire. Fire.<br />
Cold, dead ashes bury the ember that survived the night.<br />
Refuse to surrender!<br />
Fight! Fight!<br />
Discarded refuse buries you, <br />
Serves as fuel!<br />
Fan the flame!<br />
Fan the flame!<br />
Passionate fire builds with each heart beat!<br />
Feel the heat,<br />
That fills this room!<br />
Be consumed!<br />
Desperation!<br />
Desire!<br />
Fire!Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-66053324603126312722011-01-18T23:01:00.001-08:002011-01-18T23:01:36.519-08:00BriefI can't sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tonight, I was taking Jordan to basketball practice and Promise rode along. We heard a brief piece of a story, on the radio, about this girl (they didn't say her age) whose father had cancer. Promise INSISTED that we pray immediately. She leaned forward, took my hand and said, "Pray Daddy, please!" It really got to me. I mean, I'm a very emotional person anyway. (Which some times I think is my greatest fault...sometimes I think it's my greatest strength.) But I couldn't stop crying.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thinking about all this family was going through. The fear, the pain, the bills, the questions, the frustrations, the trying to have faith...coupled with questioning why a loving God would let this happen. (I do not have answers.) But mostly thinking about how brief everything really is.<br />
<br />
<br />
Brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
I can't sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe I can't sleep because I almost feel like life is too brief too sleep. (I understand the stupidity in that...we wouldn't live long if we didn't balance out life with rest.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Here was this nameless family...somewhere on this planet. I don't know their names, their birthdays or how they take their coffee. They are a world away from me and their world is falling apart.<br />
<br />
<br />
I bet I know what they're hoping for: more time. (I mean, death is inevitable...but if we could just have a little more time.) That's what I wish I had with my dad. Just some more time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Time to stand in a run-down convenience store in the bad part of town, just because their Diet Cokes were colder than any other store's.<br />
<br />
<br />
Time to listen to him complain about my mom.<br />
<br />
<br />
Time to watch hear him call Jordan "Boliver."<br />
<br />
<br />
Time to hear him say of Promise, "She's my heart."<br />
<br />
<br />
Time to talk about stuff that means nothing.<br />
<br />
<br />
That would mean everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I don't have that time anymore.<br />
<br />
<br />
It is gone. I will never, ever have a chance to kiss his bald head and spend time with him again. Ever. (For the sake of those of you who are going to start talking about Heaven and the Sweet-by-and-by...I know. And it's really not any comfort.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
<br />
Brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
This past weekend, I cried with some of my best friends in the world, as we remembered and celebrated the life of their husband, Daddy, Daddy Tommy.<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw a chapter close.<br />
<br />
<br />
Less than twenty-four hours later, I cried with some of my other best friends in the world, as they celebrated their beautiful daughter changing her last name to the name of the man she loves.<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw a chapter close.<br />
<br />
<br />
One day I was watching people walk out of a funeral home chapel.<br />
<br />
<br />
The next night I watched a graffiti-ed car drive away from a reception.<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw life change.<br />
<br />
<br />
Brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
I guess what I'm saying is...we only have so many chances. And one day, in some way, those chances are gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
Forever.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes it's a celebration where entire families dance with no inhibition.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes it's in tears, where a family can barely find the strength to walk out of a room.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes there are (in our eyes) irreconcilable differences and we just walk away.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes the kids get a job and move away.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes they get a car and drive away.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes people leave your church.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes people quit calling you to hang out.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes high school is over.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes everyone gets mad.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes you just never get to see each other again.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes there is no more time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Because, life is brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
Brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
And, while we can't go back in time and change things.<br />
<br />
<br />
And, while we can't go into the future and change things.<br />
<br />
<br />
We can go into the NOW and change things.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now is when we can have more time.<br />
<br />
<br />
If we don't know how much more time we're going to have with people, let's make the absolute most out of the time we do have.<br />
<br />
<br />
Call someone today.<br />
<br />
<br />
Text someone today.<br />
<br />
<br />
Apologize...right now.<br />
<br />
<br />
Forgive...even earlier.<br />
<br />
<br />
Kiss your wife like you're afraid of getting caught.<br />
<br />
<br />
Give your child money for something ridiculous.<br />
<br />
<br />
Stay home from work.<br />
<br />
<br />
Hold hands on the sofa.<br />
<br />
<br />
Turn off the TV.<br />
<br />
<br />
Answer their call.<br />
<br />
<br />
Call them first.<br />
<br />
<br />
Drive across the state for a hot dog. (My dad did this one.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Sit in the floor.<br />
<br />
<br />
Let them braid your hair.<br />
<br />
<br />
Wear a feather boa.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ask yourself, "Is this really worth getting mad about?"<br />
<br />
<br />
Pour out your love for that friend or family member who hasn't heard it in a while.<br />
<br />
<br />
Speak to someone you've been avoiding.<br />
<br />
<br />
GRAB EVERY SECOND OF LIFE YOU CAN...RIGHT NOW!<br />
<br />
<br />
Show every bit of love you can...right now!<br />
<br />
<br />
What is more important than the relationships we have...and the relationships we'll lose?<br />
<br />
<br />
The chapters of life keep changing all the time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Some chapters are thrilling adventures...some chapters are painfully tragic.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know this wasn't an eloquently worded masterpiece...it's two o'clock and I can't sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
But...we don't know how much more time we're going to have with people, let's make the absolute most out of the time we do have.<br />
<br />
<br />
Because life is brief.<br />
<br />
<br />
Brief.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-39052920244034682532011-01-14T17:42:00.000-08:002011-01-14T19:49:40.386-08:00Boomeranging Slingshots: the enemy of change.<i>(I'll apologize in advance for any typos here. This was happening pretty fast and I was tired when I was through. If I feel like it later, I'll fix them.)</i><br />
<br />
Boomeranging Slingshots.<br />
<br />
Smoke drifts low through the camp as soldiers cower and cry. Their strong bodies melted to quivering slugs in corners of irreverent hiding.<br />
<br />
And here I stand, alone. An unproven warrior undoubtedly ready for war. Too young for such resolve, too determined to be retreated. And I stand alone. <br />
<br />
Over the fearful whimpers of those much more prepared, I hear the taunts scream up the hillside begging me for battle! <br />
<br />
And, I will give him what he wants! I will bring the fight to him and I will do this my way. How dare he defy my righteous cause! How dare he threaten the steady course my God has set before me! Even alone, I'm never alone and I will not let the cause of my nation or God be defeated by the likes of this.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in the surge of confidence and adrenaline, the volume of my pounding heart fades both the instigating insults of my enemy and the unsolicited advise of my commanding officer. <br />
<br />
The only ends of defeat are found in the means of moving...moving forward.<br />
<br />
I must meet this enemy. <br />
<br />
There is no victory to be had hiding in tents. No advance in simply maintaining ground. Staying in the camp is simply defeat, delayed.<br />
<br />
I must meet this enemy.<br />
<br />
I feel the eyes boring into my flesh as I begin my march to battle. Some behold the image of a champion...some see only a fool. <br />
<br />
I've heard the legends of my imposing combatant. I've been told of his tactics and schemes...and OBVIOUS exaggerations of immense stature. <br />
<br />
"Surely this was their intimidated perception," I reassured myself, as my fingers subconsciously slid across my handful of absurd ammunition. <br />
<br />
But as I walked into the valley and lifted my head to the sound of thunderous laughter...I am found myself proven wrong. My estimations were obviously dead wrong.<br />
<br />
In the much-too-near distance I saw a figure I could not fathom. Legend had come to life and was bellowing of my merciless death and defeat. <br />
<br />
Fear brought bile to surface in my mouth as I tried desperately to remember my just cause for being in that valley.<br />
<br />
That was not the hungry lion that sought my father's sheep. That was not a bear seeking food.<br />
<br />
That was not the enemy of my charge.<br />
<br />
That was my enemy.<br />
<br />
Providential destiny brought me here, and now all I wanted to do wass run. To run from my enemy.<br />
<br />
"I will rip you to shreds and feed you to dogs!" His threats were a task well within the abilities of my giant enemy.<br />
<br />
My enemy.<br />
<br />
Although in appearance superhuman, the figure that stood before was, in reality, human.<br />
<br />
Purpose was slowly rolling across my mind and, with it, a recalling of past victories. <br />
<br />
Courage flooded my brain's surface, bringing clarity and focus to my thoughts.<br />
<br />
Clarity brought something different. <br />
<br />
Just below the gravelly surface of his insolence, I detected a more frightening sound, similarity. <br />
<br />
Almost telescopically, through heavy head protection...I recognized eyes.<br />
<br />
I know this person.<br />
<br />
He was my enemy. In arrogant self-assurance, he was insuring utter failure. He boastfully recounted every disadvantage I embodied. The sole purpose of his existence in this moment was to seal my defeat.<br />
<br />
Anti.<br />
<br />
My enemy was "anti" every good thing for which I was ready to do battle. He was against my future, my dreams, my hope, my destiny. He stood in stark and rebellious defiance to everything God had intended for my life.<br />
<br />
He was my enemy. <br />
<br />
And standing in the shadow of his hulking existence I realized my most terrifying thought.<br />
<br />
I knew him.<br />
<br />
More intimately than my knowledge of any other man, I knew this man.<br />
<br />
Louder and louder, more vehemently he shouted...insult after insult. <br />
<br />
Each one striking my heart with more fear and dread than could ever be known by the sword in his massive scabbard. The intensity and heat of every hissing word pierced my unarmored chest. <br />
<br />
And every word more convincing than the last.<br />
<br />
Salty tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision as the doom of impending defeat drowned my soul with every oppressive indictment. <br />
<br />
No! I entered this valley with purpose, resolve.<br />
<br />
I will not shrink back.<br />
<br />
I had to beat this man I knew. <br />
<br />
But not just a man I knew.<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
A man I created.<br />
<br />
A giant.<br />
<br />
An enemy.<br />
<br />
My creation.<br />
<br />
He could not win. <br />
<br />
The familiar straps of leather in my right hand separated almost instinctively as my left hand slipped silently into my pouch. Almost without thought a seemingly-impotent stone fell evenly into my sling.<br />
<br />
And with it, a battle-cry began to build from some place deep within...some place where soul, spirit and flesh mix in unity. <br />
<br />
As that sonic bedlam burst forward from my lungs, somehow time and space ceased their movement. <br />
<br />
My arm began to spin forward as my bare feet moved swiftly across the valley's rocky floor. At full speed I ran toward the giant I knew so well!<br />
<br />
Spinning my sling over and over and over and over and then...release! This smooth projectile rocketed forward with blinding speed as the giant's insulting laughter still sounded out...then suddenly ended.<br />
<br />
Seconds took hours to pass as the now silent giant stood stunned. <br />
<br />
My running never stopped and, just as I reached my self-created nemesis, he fell. <br />
<br />
As quickly as his lifeless body shook the earth, I removed the sword from his side and the vain protection from the giant's head.<br />
<br />
With a surge of strength beyond my own, I lifted the sword high and swiftly brought it down. <br />
<br />
I brought finality to my enemy's fatality.<br />
<br />
This giant who stood to bring failure to all of who I was.<br />
<br />
This giant who stood to prevent all that I could be.<br />
<br />
This enemy that I created.<br />
<br />
This enemy that I knew.<br />
<br />
Was me.<br />
<br />
<br />
We've all heard this story before. The ancient legend of overcoming insurmountable odds. We have translated this story to football teams, struggling bands and family businesses. <br />
The untrained David defending future and hope...the licentious giant intimidating us with threats and size.<br />
My greatest desire is that the world would change. I call it my Crazy Idea. When everyone else is writing off the world and reading it's eulogy, I see hope. And I see that hope being realized through love. <br />
I want things to change. But before I can change things for others, I need to change me. There's so much about me that is not where or what it should be...and I need me to change.<br />
But there is an enemy to change. There is an enemy to the life I need to live. There is an enemy to the world changing. There is an enemy to my Crazy Idea.<br />
In tears I confess...that enemy is ME! It is the giant I have created physically, emotionally, relationally, financially. <br />
Just like Goliath stood and cursed everything righteous, just like Goliath threatened the plan of God in that valley...he stands here now, bellowing the same insults and threats. And he is simply me.<br />
The great hope is this: THAT ENEMY CAN DIE!!! <br />
Not me literally, but all the things about me that fight against what I was created to be. <br />
And not you literally, but all those things that fight against what you were created to be.<br />
As you and I kill our giants, we can not only change ourselves, but WE ARE INDEED CHANGING THE WORLD!<br />
Who will join me? <br />
Who will identify their own personal giant?<br />
Who will refuse to stand paralyzed with fear at that giant's taunts?<br />
LET'S DO THIS!<br />
<br />
In a love I can't articulate,<br />
Ollie Horne, a giant slayer.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-77946405112867949972011-01-11T13:06:00.000-08:002011-01-11T13:06:32.621-08:00Nekros: "an intersection of a King's kid brother and a song by the King," or "Imbalance is killing us."You probably shouldn't read this.<br />
<br />
For quite some time I've been disturbed by a word a King's little brother used. He probably used a Greek word, nekros.<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
He was talking about a place of imbalance. A place where fat kids sit lazily with eyes glazed over...staring at a life they wish they had and never having it.<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
And I think about the wisdom of the King's song.<br />
<br />
A song about closed mouths and active bodies.<br />
<br />
You probably shouldn't read this.<br />
<br />
We're those fat kids.<br />
<br />
We're in that state of Nekros.<br />
<br />
You probably shouldn't read this.<br />
<br />
So the King's little brother was a man named James.<br />
<br />
And he was writing to everyone.<br />
<br />
James was talking about "faith without action." He said this...having faith but not having any action...is nekros. NEKROS!<br />
<br />
Can you believe the audacity of this heretic? He has the nerve to write this sentence write there in the bible.<br />
<br />
"In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead."<br />
<br />
A lot of people think this is Jesus little brother...the King's kid brother.<br />
<br />
And the King's kid brother said your faith is nekros.<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
Dead.<br />
<br />
The same bible that talks about faith. The same bible that teaches us to be people of faith...says our faith is dead.<br />
<br />
You probably shouldn't read this.<br />
<br />
You probably should go find a book for $19.95 that gives the 10 Secrets of a Faith-filled Life, and read that instead.<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
Jesus' little brother said your faith is dead.<br />
<br />
He said it's destitute of force.<br />
<br />
Useless.<br />
<br />
The King's little brother said if you're not adding action to your faith...your faith is nekros.<br />
<br />
And nekros means dead.<br />
<br />
Interestingly enough, this is just after the same man said something about religion (acts of religious worship) that God accepts as pure acts of worship are caring for widows and orphans.<br />
<br />
And right after he said we shouldn't just read the word...but we should also do what it says.<br />
<br />
Do what it says.<br />
<br />
This makes me think of a song of the King.<br />
<br />
Well, actually Mac and Billy wrote the song, but they wrote the song for the King to sing and he did.<br />
<br />
It was song about the doing more than just talking. <br />
<br />
A song about living rather than just being philosophical.<br />
<br />
So here's where I talk about our imbalance.<br />
<br />
We are great at studying.<br />
<br />
We are great at quoting.<br />
<br />
We are great at singing.<br />
<br />
We underline and discuss, we contemplate, meditate and memorize.<br />
<br />
We pray these words and dissect them.<br />
<br />
We preach about them.<br />
<br />
We hold them up in bleacher seats and protest lines.<br />
<br />
But do we do them?<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
You probably shouldn't read this.<br />
<br />
We should all have PhD's, we've read and studied so much.<br />
<br />
We talk about the immorality of those who commit...but we don't talk about the immorality of us who omit.<br />
<br />
We don't really do the words we study.<br />
<br />
The words we say are truth.<br />
<br />
The words we say we believe.<br />
<br />
Which makes us fat kids playing video games featuring other people who aren't.<br />
<br />
We eat and eat and eat and eat...but rarely ever exercise what we've eaten.<br />
<br />
How many people have been in a bible study group?<br />
<br />
Now, how many people have been in a bible DOING group?<br />
<br />
How many of us sing songs declaring our love for our King?<br />
<br />
Now, how many of us go out and physically show love to our King?<br />
<br />
Elvis, the King, sang a song Mac and Billy wrote. The song: "A Little Less Conversation." I have this sneaky feeling he was probably singing about something else...but I keep wondering how frustrated the other King could possibly be. As he sings over us "A little less conversation, a little more action, please! All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me."<br />
<br />
I'm not saying the studying, discussing, reading, memorizing and quoting are wrong. In fact, how could I have written this absent of those disciplines?<br />
<br />
The problem is we have this incredible imbalance.<br />
<br />
We read about what to do...and don't.<br />
<br />
The result?<br />
<br />
Nekros.<br />
<br />
And our state of nekros is suffered not only by us.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-68692137228967995312010-12-09T07:39:00.000-08:002010-12-09T07:39:47.819-08:00Lent Manifesto<b>Familiar with Lent?</b><br />
Unless you’ve been involved with the Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Churches or Protestant denominations such as the United Methodist Church or Lutherans, you may not be familiar with the whole concept of the Lent Season.<br />
And if you have been involved with these groups, there’s a slight possibility that the season of Lent you’ve known all these years was just another in the long litany of religious activities that consumed your mind and time.<br />
To some of you, “lint” is just the fuzz in your belly button…to others of you; Lent is about equally as relevant to your life, as belly button fuzz.<br />
But what if that was different?<br />
What if it was all so different!?<br />
Lent: The Back-Story<br />
So a quick back-story on the whole Lent thing.<br />
Lent is a season of religious ritual, usually starting with Ash Wednesday* and lasting 46 days until Easter Sunday.<br />
Forty-six (but it’s really only 40-days, because Sundays don’t count. Those are “mini-Easters” and are days to celebrate.) days of fasting from something, anything, to show your sorrow for the condition of the world and to prepare your heart for Resurrection.<br />
The fast is a sort of penitence for not only our wrongdoing but also the wrongdoing of the whole world.<br />
Fasting. <br />
In the tradition of Lent, people “give up” something for Lent, a form of fasting. People give up chocolate, booze, TV, movies, eating out (or eating altogether), or whatever they choose. During Lent, people find something they will “give up” for the Lent Season to show their sorrow.<br />
So, this is Lent.<br />
<br />
But what if we gave up something different?<br />
I’ve found, in my life, that fasting has been a very beneficial discipline. I’ve fasted several times and it’s been a very rewarding experience. But therein lies the problem: fasting has always seemed to be beneficial only for me…and actually increased my focus on myself.<br />
When I fast, I seem to inevitably focus primarily on ME, and the thing I’m giving up. Fasting from food is a constant reminder that I’m not eating food. Everywhere I turn there’s food that I can’t eat. <br />
As rewarding as fasting is, it seems only rewarding for me.<br />
(Now, I do believe we have to be the best “us” we can be, which sometimes requires some seemingly selfish self-focus. We must provide ourselves with proper nutrition, education, exercise and rest.)<br />
But self-focus, sometimes turns to self-centeredness, which is often what rears its ugly head during my times of fasting.<br />
So, how can we turn Lent, a season of fasting, into something that turns our focus outward. Outward to something beneficial to society…outward to humanity?<br />
Not everyone reading this would consider himself or herself to be a “Christian” or even religious, for that matter. But, if you are a person who believes, or even regards the words of scripture in the “Bible” you may find some of this interesting.<br />
An ancient prophet named Isaiah addressed the issue of fasting. (We labeled the address as being Isaiah 58.)<br />
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter-when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?”<br />
WHAT THE WHAT?!?! This is INSANE!<br />
It’s almost as though this dude is suggesting that fasting is about reaching out to show love to others, rather than focus in on our self. <br />
So, if you’re one of the people who believe in the Bible as being the word of God, then you’ve got to believe that what God wants for his followers, is to reach out and meet the needs of others.<br />
But, wait…there’s more!<br />
Several hundred years later, a guy named James wrote something else (And by the way, lots of smart people believe this guy is Jesus’ kid brother.): <br />
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”<br />
(Hint: the word “religion” here isn’t religion as in a “belief system,” but religion as in “an act of worship.”)<br />
It’s almost (well, it actually IS) as though James was saying that worship is really more about serving the needs of others than it is about the songs we sing and the prayers we recite.<br />
Again, INSANITY! (We call this tone sarcasm.)<br />
So, um…Lent. Giving something up for Lent, right?<br />
Here’s my proposal for this Lent…my manifesto…my thesis I’m nailing to the door of whatever religious establishment each of us follow.<br />
What if we gave up our SELF for Lent?<br />
What if we turned our focus this Lent season from the “thing” we’re doing without to all those everywhere whose whole life is “doing without”?<br />
To put it a little more plainly: my idea is that we dedicate ourselves this Lent season to giving ourselves up…that we would spend this Lent season serving the needs of others. <br />
MAKE A DENT THIS LENT!<br />
I know this is a cheesy little rhyme. But what if…what if we could?<br />
What if during this Lent, instead of focusing on ourselves and what we’re giving up…what if we could have a positive effect on the world and the people that fill it?<br />
The dents.<br />
Have you ever been to an art gallery and seen some beautiful sculpture? I don’t know much about the art of sculpting stone, but word on the street is, the way these artists work is by making thousands and thousands of tiny dents in the stone. Chiseling away at the stone until the beauty of the inner sculpture is revealed.<br />
From what I understand, these artists don’t grab a slab of stone, give it one giant whack, and then wheel their masterpiece into an art gallery.<br />
I think we can do this. I think each of us can make one of these tiny dents in the stone. If thousands of us would make a little dent, maybe we could change things. Maybe we could create something beautiful…<br />
I’ve got a couple tattoos. I love my tattoos because their meanings are very significant to me.<br />
My first tattoo is the summation of what I describe as my “Crazy Idea.”<br />
It’s simple…nothing elaborate.<br />
It’s just an image of planet Earth, sculpted into a misshaped heart.<br />
This tattoo is my constant reminder that love can change the world. <br />
Love.<br />
Want to change the world? <br />
Give love.<br />
Give up your SELF.<br />
Give LOVE.<br />
I know I’m crazy!<br />
I know I’m simple-minded.<br />
I’ve freaking ADMITTED all this!!<br />
But what if, just what if it works?<br />
What if this Lent was just a prelude of what we could do in the glorious light of Resurrection?<br />
Who do I give myself up to?<br />
This is where it gets a little bit subjective…a little relative to YOU!<br />
I certainly don’t think we should all jump on the same bandwagon.<br />
My dream is not that thousands of people could come together and focus on the same need, the same issue.<br />
My dream is that thousands of people would find thousands of things to focus on. You’d be amazed at how life changing your one little voice and action could be.<br />
So whom do you help?<br />
I have two suggestions:<br />
Suggestion 1: help whomever it is you have the most passion to help! Maybe you’ve got a real passion for helping the homeless, or special needs kids, or single moms, or people in Third-World countries, or maybe even .<br />
Go help them! Find an organization you could with which you can volunteer, give money to their funds, whatever. Help them!<br />
Suggestion 2: help whomever you think deserves help least! <br />
Jesus once told this story to religious people about how he was hungry, naked, sick, in prison, etc. and no one helped him.<br />
The religious people asked when he had been in these conditions and been helped.<br />
Jesus said, “When you did these things to the LEAST OF THESE my brothers, you did this to me.”<br />
Who are your “least of these?” Who do you see as being the least worthy of help?<br />
GO HELP THEM!<br />
You can do a mission trip; volunteer at a shelter/organization, whatever…my only encouragement is that you do your reaching out throughout the entire Lent Season. Not just a one time thing, or a once a week thing, no I encourage you to give yourself up for FORTY DAYS (take Sundays, or whatever day you choose, to rest and celebrate…recharge your batteries!)<br />
PLAN NOW!<br />
If you’re going to give yourself up for Lent, you need to start planning now. <br />
Now, December 9th. Before you even get through with Christmas.<br />
My friend Josh, keeps reminding me AdVENT is not even over…and I’m pushing LENT!<br />
You need to figure out whom you’re going to help.<br />
You need to figure out how you can AFFORD to help!<br />
You need to figure out how you can help people, while not deserting your family and friends.<br />
You need to figure it out…you need to plan now.<br />
You’ve got four months to get all this figured out…start now!<br />
Lent starts in four months.<br />
Beauty for Ashes<br />
*Lent begins, in most traditions on Ash Wednesday, which is March 9th, 2011 this year.<br />
Ash Wednesday.<br />
On this date, in tradition, Lent-ees attend a special church service in which a “sign of the cross” is placed on their heads with ashes.<br />
Ashes are ugly. <br />
Placing ashes on one’s forehead is ancient symbolic gesture showing one’s sorrow.<br />
That same guy, Isaiah, also wrote this thing about how ashes would be exchanged for beauty.<br />
Doesn’t that sound like an amazing thing? We give ashes and the pay back is something beautiful?<br />
Can you imagine how beautiful it would be, if beginning Ash Wednesday, we all reached out and shared LOVE with those around us (or around the world from us!)<br />
There’s a word for that shared love: BEAUTIFUL.<br />
Commit.<br />
Now, I’m going to ask you to do the most difficult part.<br />
Commit.<br />
Commit to searching yourself and finding the way you can give your SELF up for Lent.<br />
Part of my “Crazy Idea” is this: we can take what may be an irrelevant religious observance…or something you’ve never heard of…and do something beautiful to make a DENT THIS LENT.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114081480055887324.post-7749321699873890182010-07-24T18:07:00.001-07:002010-07-24T18:07:20.184-07:00You’re Not Invisible To MeMaybe it’s my simplicity,<br />
<br />
Or could it be my insanity?<br />
<br />
But you’re not invisible to me.<br />
<br />
I hear your whisper in the Mediterranean Sea breeze as it cools my skin,<br />
<br />
And your passion in the same-named sun that brings the heat again.<br />
<br />
I see your power in the crashing waves, your ravishing ways.<br />
<br />
Rolling over my mind, my heart—my eyes see you.<br />
<br />
I don’t see the dogma that curls the fists of nations<br />
<br />
I don’t feel the frustration.<br />
<br />
I don’t see the exclusivity of political partisan fight.<br />
<br />
I don’t see Left; I don’t see Right.<br />
<br />
I don’t see the chapters and verses.<br />
<br />
I don’t hear exclamations of curses.<br />
<br />
I don’t see my way is better than what you believe.<br />
<br />
But I see you—<br />
<br />
Plain and simple—<br />
<br />
Glorious and complex—<br />
<br />
Multi-dimensionally BEAUTIFUL!<br />
<br />
You’re not invisible to me.Olliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10107441316373339935noreply@blogger.com0