Man in the clouds

Awaking to the distinct smell of the desert, my eyes open to a sky lit by countless stars. My lips slightly chapped by the night breeze that detoured me from unzipping my mummy bag and its warmth. I could focus though the darkness and see the ridgeline that lead to the summit where we would soon be resting atop the mountain gazing to the east watching his beautiful argument lure us ever closer to himself.

As we weaved around the creosote and black brush and scrambled up the rocks towards the summit, I knew he was glorified by our pace. The summit stood ahead, but there was no direct path forged to its vantage. We would scramble up one way to only see a steep drop or a thicket of cacti blocking the way, turning we'd find another path. A few times, we took what looked to be the easiest way up, only to turn back and take the more difficult route we had detoured from. The hike started to climb ever upward and we placed step after step toward that summit block.

On the summit a large rock sheltered us from the chilling wind. Our backs leaning up against the rock, we tried to cover our exposed skin from the cold. The stars began to fade. Darkness retreating to the other side of the world. He spoke the words and we saw the horizon take to light. The dull pastels briefly painted the high stratus clouds, then the fire was set. The rocky ridge far to east set the stage for him to show us how faithful he is. We continued to watch the transformation of light in the heavens when we saw the man in the clouds.

We can climb mountains. We can stand on their summits and see the world you sculpted. Our goal is no longer the mountain top, but the clouds you stood on. I want to be caught up with you in the clouds.

On surfing

on surfing

The alarm clock sounds it ever waking noise. While eyes still closed, a heavy hand reaches for the button. There in the early morning of one's day it starts. The truck is quickly loaded with the board sticking out of the tailgate, and PCH is starting to warm to the sunrise. The best days are when you pull in to the lot and only a few of the locals are parked and no sign of them lingering to get in the water. The smell of salt in the air, a cold breeze presses your face as the wetsuit suctions onto your body.

I think every surfer has his own way of entering the water on any given morning. But once they are wet they all sit straddled around their boards, afloat. Their heads scanning the westerly horizon. They may sit straddled for a time bobbing among the inside swells, waiting. Then, once that horizon starts to grow, you'll see the first surfer lean forward and start to paddle into position. Leaning back he quickly turns his board around and climbs forward to start the dogged paddle to match the speed of the coming swell. The wind starts to spit at you as you feel the back end pick up. This is the moment you could ask any surfer to describe and they can all detail the next few seconds with ease. The speed builds up from below your feet. There just out of your reach behind you comes a roar that is unlike any other. It is a fearful roar, but a welcomed one. There in that fraction of your life, words jumbled on his page, cannot efficiently sketch the emotions as you ready yourself for the ride.

Every wave is surfed different from this point forward. Some carve and slash, some line up and walk forward, and still others simply race the deafening roar behind them.

The peak of it all for me, is not the above but when all is muted by the rolling inside waves and that horizon is flat lined. Straddled on my board, I look up to the pastel sky painted by the rising sun. I know my God is more faithful than waves, more beautiful than the sunrise. I surf in worship to Him who loves me.

a day at work

We had already loaded the truck with the materials we needed to spend the day working on the houses. The tools rattled around as the truck made its way down the freeway. It took about a half hour or so to get to the job site. We spoke of the beautiful sunrise as it fought to rise above the mountains in the east. The clouds were being painted a spectrum of pastel colors as it rose to push the darkness away.

Once at the job site we surveyed the houses and then started laying out the material to get ready for our day of work. Conversation ended at that point. I had put in my ear plugs as did my boss to guard our ears from the loud sounds that construction sites make. Hours passed and we made our way though each house and on to the next one. We hadn't spoken much at all during the course of the day. He was busy working on his tasks and I at mine. As we finished up and started loading the truck, I smiled at the realization that my day working with my boss is much like my relationship with the God of this universe.

I may not spend the entire day in conversation with him, but I know he was right there working on the same goal. The days that are spend in constant conversation with God are awesome, but even the days that are not, seem to be just as amazing as we are working toward building his kingdom. I know his paradigm is becoming mine. It is promised so in Philippians 1:6.

Intersection(s)

He stood elevated above the gathered crowd. Not for the appearance of authority, but for the mere practical reason of allowing his voice to be heard at a greater distance. He was speaking of an event that had just taken place. An event that to this every day effects us all.

There once was a building, built with great care and precision. The architect not only designed the layout, but also how it was to be decorated. Within the inner-most room was the intersection of heaven and earth. There the presence of the divine being dwelt, behind a vale that was not to be breached but once a year.

A little more than a month before he stood talking this crowd, there had been an earthquake. And while earthquakes cause foundations to be tested, this quake broke the very foundation of that inner-most room. The vale had been torn in two, from top to bottom.

He stood elevated above the gathered crowd, speaking of how his paradigm had changed. The intersection of heaven and earth was no longer contained behind a vale in the Temple. It was now freely accessible to all who sought it. As he ended his rooftop speech, he asked "what then shall we do?" He knew that this event required action to be taken.

The intersection of heaven and earth exists. Those who are an intersection of heaven and earth our paradigm has changed and we need to answer Peters question of "what then shall we do?"

My Gethsemane

The piece of concrete is just large enough to sit on as it tries hard not to slide down the Huntington Beach cliffs. It has been blocked off for years by weathered railing that guards the bike trail from the forty foot drop to the sand. It is a place I use to frequent at times such as these. Many times lately, I've pondered making the drive out to that very rock. The lifeguards never seemed to care much at all that I sat staring out at the relentless waves roaring as they rolled toward the shore. I would just sit, listening to the wind blow up the cliffs and drown all the other sounds out. A place where I would be quick to listen and slow to speak.
There is something about having a spot like that. A spot where I could rest in the shadow of his wing. A spot where there is a stillness. A spot that no one knows to look for me except him. It is my Gethsemane.
Find your Matthew 6:6 spot.

Construction Begins

Walking through a construction site there is an echo of a voice calling to everyone. There are a half dozen guys standing around framing houses with an uncanny expertise of the hammer. Just a few houses down, concrete is being poured with such speed and precision. The finish guys are making a mess in the houses, but adding the details to call it a finished house after the final sweep is made. The smell of dirt kicked up from the machinery mixes with the potent odor of fresh paint. Hands are at work building something and that is what His paradigm is about.

The voice heard as an echo is calling you and me both to start building. We need not have the mastery of swinging a hammer. We need not know how to set up the electric panel to power our project. The foundation has already been poured, the houses already erected.

The voice announced many years ago that this kingdom was near. He started the construction, He finished the construction and left it to you and me to invite people to come and live in it.

He talked about that kingdom being available to us here, right now. It's the voice that echo's within the hearts of us all as we see things being built. I hear that echo everyday and say in response the words of Isaiah, "Here am I"

A prayer

I sat and read. I tend to do that quite often at Starbucks, only because the chairs are a bit too high for the low tables at Coffee Bean. I went in today, to finish the book of Daniel, and re-read A.W. Tozer's Knowledge of the Holy. I had read chapters 1-7 of Daniel the day before and was inspired, but today, I struggled to see through the theological debates of the prophecy filling the last few chapters. I ended Daniel in frustration and went on to reading Tozer.

A quote from the preface of the book reads in part: "...we shall think because we believe, not in order that we may believe."
There have been other great authors that have written similar wisdom.
C.S. Lewis said "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."

When I read scripture, it is hard to look at the world and perceive it in the same way as I did before. There are times when I read and fall face down in awe of a God that loves me still. There are times when I read and have to consult numerous scholars to understand the grandeur of words I have just read. Then there are the times when as I read, I look up to see the people standing in line, sitting and chatting, studying textbooks. Do they know the that the Kingdom is at hand? Are they seeking it? These questions will be answered and I shall aid as a tutor.

I don't want to see the world as I see it, but see it as he who died setting it to rights. I am adopting a paradigm that is so foreign, yet echoes within all I experience.

I pray that when you open your eyes, the words of Matthew 6:33 are the lens you see through. I pray as you hear the alarm clock rudely awake you to start your day, that Matthew 6:33 echoes between your ears. I pray that as you roll from your warm nook under your sheets that your feel Matthew 6:33 take shape in your hands. I pray as you break bread throughout the day, that you remember him broken for you. I pray that as you hear the noise of existence, you hear the echo of his words telling us what this life is all about.