It's time.

"You did not hear them coming. You hardly heard them go. The grass bent down, sprang up again. They passed like cloud shadows downhill... The boys of summer, running."
(Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine)

Love you whenever we're together, love you when we're apart.

For those of you who seemed concerned, I'm not done with PBB. Just taking a breather. When I come back, we'll talk more, yeah?

Happy Valentine's Day, kiddies. Kiss your loved ones. See you in a week or two.

"de-link"

it's time to unplug.
the web won't hug you back, kid.
seek love someplace real.

you surf your blogroll
as if you know these strangers,
dine at their tables.

remember that time
when the people you "knew" could
recognize your face?

just have perspective.
too easily, we believe
surface loves are deep.

(maybe i'm just tired
of being a spectator,
watching others live.)

"hello, my name is--"
now, really, how hard was that?
go and do likewise.

oh, and by the way,
if you like that girl so much,
why not ask her out?

Who is this Jingo person, and why do you say I support him?

Rob at Say Anything brought today's Lileks piece to my attention. I read James Lileks' blog periodically, but haven't in a while. This reminded my why I should.

In today's post, Lileks perfectly captures a portrait of the snarky USA-bashing that's so popular with the kids these days. I'll give you the first paragraph.

Love of country must always be qualified these days, lest anyone think you are unaware of slavery, insufficiently regulated railroad stock offerings, Lester Maddox or the attempt by Philip Morris to conceal the addictive nature of cigarettes. Say “I love this country” at a dinner table with strangers, and it’s like shave and a haircut without the two bits. But? But? We are an exceptional nation, to be sure, but you can’t leave it at that. We are exceptionally misguided, exceptionally lazy and xenophobic, shot through to the pith with bilious perfidy, and our sole redeeming quality is our ability to constantly remake ourselves. We’ll either perfect society so we can perfect human nature, or do it the other way around. Either’s fine. Whatever works.

As we say in the blogging biz, read the whole thing.

Thursday Video View: Random Grab-bag Edition

1) A song by Interpol that I heard on Smallville last week. Pretty cool sound:



2) I've posted this one before, but I still like it. "Pick it up!"



3) One of my favorite Super Bowl Commercials of all time. Just makes me laugh every time.



4) This movie looks pretty funny.



5) What would Frank Sinatra think of Facebook and Myspace?

Stomach full of Ashes.

It's hard to write an Ash Wednesday post when you've never actually participated in the holy-day. Coming from the Southern Baptist tradition, where our church calendar consists of Christmas, Easter, and the clockwork schedule of potluck suppers and ice cream socials, this was never something I experienced growing up.

I was invited to go to an Ash Wednesday service tonight. I didn't go, and now wish I had. I don't even have a really good reason for not going, other than being the proverbial stranger in a strange liturgical land. Even that's not a good reason. One would assume that being off-balance and unsure of oneself would be a boon for such a mass. But I let the moment pass, and now have to wait a year for it to come 'round again, like a missed Valentine's Day.

I've never given anything up for Lent. I like the idea, but would always forget to decide on the matter until the day of or after it begins. By then, my attitude is usually that I missed the window of opportunity--as if self-denial can only be instituted at certain times on the calendar, like changing your insurance coverage at work. Truth is, I probably use my forgetfulness as an excuse to avoid the difficult decision to die to self in some small, symbolic way.

Since my first-hand knowledge of this subject is thus so small, I would ask for your indulgence as I continue blindly in this vein.

Lent, as I understand it, is to commemorate and honor the 40 days and nights that Jesus spent in the desert, being tested and tempted by the devil. Now, I don't feel comfortable whipping up a tidy homily on the subject, but I notice a couple of things as I read this story.

Jesus was driven by the Spirit of God to go on this journey. He was hungry. And "behold," after defeating the temptations of the enemy, angels ministered to his needs.

A few things. First: If Lent is to remember Christ's desert exile, then it is the Spirit of God, and not necessarily our need to suffer, that drives our sacrifice. I think this keeps us from feeling like we're not doing enough or being spiritual enough. I also think that this dislodges the Lenten fast from its place in the liturgical year. Fasting of any kind isn't just for springtime; it's whenever the Spirit of God says, "Do it."

Second: Jesus was hungry. I forget this too easily--that Jesus humbled himself enough to become really and truly human, and as such, He experienced all the same things we do. He was cold. He was tired. He was sweaty. And from time to time, He was hungry. After His 40-day fast, He was famished.

(When I get really good and hungry, I get super-cranky. I'm a bear to deal with. Since Jesus lived without sin, He must not have reacted the way I do, when He was hungry. This tells me that I can't use hunger as an excuse when I'm being a jerk.)

Third: "Behold." I love this, for some reason. In Matthew's account of Jesus' temptation, after Jesus defeats the devil using the Word of God, the Tempter leaves. And then it says, "Behold, angels came and were ministering to Him." The word "behold" isn't used in the rest of the story. It wasn't used when the Tempter showed up. I don't know why this is, but if I were to guess, I'd say that when we're going through a difficult situation, a test or trial, being rescued and restored always feels like a surprise, even if we know it's coming. Jesus knew that He would make it through without sinning, but still, Matthew says "behold." It's like he's clueing the reader in somehow: The tempter leaves and then, check it out! Angels came and restored Jesus.

My family's dealing with some stuff right now, related to my dad's job situation. And it's hard, when you're going through that type of valley, to see through to that "behold!" moment. Maybe Lenten discipline is like that. You know it will end eventually, with the celebration of Christ's resurrection and the hope of our own. But it gets hard to see, until that behold moment comes when you reach the other side.

I don't know if that makes sense at all. I'm probably talking nonsense.

I'm hungry. I haven't eaten today.

A few weeks ago, I heard a pastor talk about his men's group and how they will set aside certain times and seasons in which they'll fast one day a week. That sounded kinda cool to me, and I thought, "I should do this." I've been reading about spiritual disciplines, and the idea has been in my head as of late. And generally, if I get the idea in my head to fast, I'm pretty sure it's of God, since my flesh wouldn't come up with something so crazy. So I started it last week and decided to do it for 5 weeks.

And here we are, on Week 2, now embarking on the Lenten season. Imagine that.

So here's my novice attempt at Lent: I'm extending the 5 weeks to 7-8 weeks (I'll need to double check the exact length). Fasting one day a week, drinking only liquids and trying not to drink for sustenance (no large chocolate shakes or Slim-Fasts, in other words). Trying to focus on those days on Scripture, prayer, and obedience.

[Point of order: Am I violating Jesus' Sermon on the Mount fasting instructions by blogging about this? I don't think so, for a few reasons. A) You readers will be the only people who know, and I can only think of one or two people I see on a weekly basis who would read this. If you're one of those, I ask that you not even mention you saw this post. Pray for me, but don't bring it up. B) I'm not looking for com-box kudos; I just want to share what God's pushing me through in my life. I say "pushing" because something like this takes a divine shove. So, I don't bring it up to impress you people; and God knows my heart in this and will judge me accordingly.]

What I hope to gain from this is a better sense of what it is to rely on God's strength and grace. And honestly, I need to re-order my life. Things are starting to spin out of balance. Have you ever overfilled one side of your washing machine, so that it spends the whole spin cycle clanging and thumping? That's my life these days--gentle agitation, followed by clanging and thumping.

Last week, I realized that I don't talk to God enough. I almost wrote "as much as I should," but there's no objective pass/fail level of prayer. But I recognized in myself that what I need is more. More prayer, more study, more silence. I don't meditate on God's word enough.

And what am I learning today? I'm hungry. Much hungrier than I was last week, for some reason. Food has filled my thoughts for a good part of the day today. I was tempted to succumb and eat many times. But then I got home, and started writing this post. I pulled out my Bible, and started reading the story of Jesus' temptation. And I saw that He was hungry. Yet His first response was to feast on God's word.

That first temptation hits me hard. Bread, or Scripture? Honestly, there have been a few times tonight that, if given the choice so directly, I might have lost the battle. But Jesus' response to the same offer shows me that I need to recognize and cultivate a hunger in my soul. I've got to be more hungry for God than I am for food. That, if given the choice between a sandwich and a Psalm, I'll seek that which brings true life. Later on in the Gospels, I remember Jesus' disciples asking him if He wants something to eat, and He replies, "I have food you don't know about." The disciples thought he meant that he had a snack stashed in His robe or something, so Jesus clarified, "My food is to do the will of the One who sent me."

That's why I'm going to keep telling myself tonight. I have to feed on the Will of God. And what is His will? To submit myself to Him, so that He can re-form me into the image of Jesus.

(Also, today I'm learning that, when the pressure's on, the real you comes out. And the real me isn't a very nice person. I was rude, and I was disrespectful today. Thankfully, I have understanding coworkers. But talk about conviction; I'm a jerk. Hunger doesn't make me a jerk; hunger pulls away the veneer of politeness to reveal the jerk that's always there hiding.)

Maybe you're not doing any Lenten fast. That's cool. But let me challenge you: take a second and think about what you feast on most. Realize that you too are being offered the same choice. And choose to feast on the Bread of Life, who is Jesus, the Word who was in the beginning and was with God and was God.

May you be ever more hungry for that good Bread, and may you feast upon it with joy.

"Happy" Ash Wednesday. Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return. Repent of your sins, and rededicate yourself to God. And then believe that He is faithful and just to forgive your sins, to cleanse you from all unrighteousness, and that He can breathe new life into your dead bones, so that you may feast on His presence and be filled.

"graceless but hopeful"

i keep playing the same
jeff buckley songs over and over again
to try to reconnect to my poet's voice.
(i've forgotten how to see.)
all i feel when i hear him tell his
black beauty that he loves her so
is a horrible, sucking void within my guts.
there was a time i could weld words into phrases
burnished and hot with emotion.
it feels like a lifetime ago.

who will wash the dishes? who will fold
the untouched piles of linens? who will
watch the ever-important television dramas
and flip the dinner pancakes, so that i can
focus on my (using-air-quotes) "art"?
no one. i must do these things myself, and
somehow after chores are done and
ever-important programs are viewed,
i must still find the wherewithal to lift
hammer and tong, measure out my phrases
twice to cut once, and re-learn my trade.
i think i am still able to do this. i am just not yet
compelled by the thought of it. i'm not mad
enough to stay up beyond the moon, scribbling.
it's almost enough to make me miss depression.
at least then i was writing.

i'm not ready to say my last goodbye, or see
the love i have for such things die, but some days
it still feels like it's over. so kiss me, muses, kiss me,
kiss me out of pity, because i'm holding my impotent
pen and waiting for something worth expressing to drip
from my sterile brain. fates, inflict me with tragic turns,
push me to the brink--on second thought, nevermind.
leave me be, let me shake off the rust and retread the
tired, old steps. i'll run my lines and pretend i'm inspired
until the moment comes when the primed pump
pours forth something worth reading.

The Best Part of Super Bowl XLII

It wasn't the truly awesome outcome to the ballgame. It was the six-plus-minute video that preceeded the game.

For my dad.

A song dedication:

How long will my prayers seem unanswered?
Is there still faith in me to reach the end?
I'm feeling doubt
I'm losing faith
But giving up would cost me everything
So I'll stand in the pain and silence
And I'll speak to the dark night

I believe in the sun even when it's not shining
I believe in love even when I don't feel it
And I believe in God even when He is silent
And I, I believe

Though I can't see my story's ending
That doesn't mean the dark night has no end
It's only here that I find faith
And learn to trust the one who writes my days
So I'll stand in the pain and silence
And I'll speak to the dark night

I believe in the sun even when it's not shining
I believe in love even when I don't feel it
And I believe in God even when He is silent
And I, I believe

No dark can consume Light
No death greater than this life
We are not forgotten
Hope is found when we say
Even when He is silent

I believe in the sun even when it's not shining
I believe in love even when I don't feel it
And I believe in God even when He is silent
And I, I believe.

("I Believe in Love" by Barlow Girl)