Yesterday, the ice in the trees was breathtaking. The sun came out and shone upon them all, and the frozen twigs and branches sparkled in an unreal, almost mystical way. It was almost like watching spring happen early. A miniature spring, in fact, was happening: sunlight thawing the trees' fingertips, life forces swirling underneath the bark, stirred to awakening by the temporarily-forgotten sensation of warmth. A long winter's nap, disturbed until the next ice storm passes. Yet to a tree, this time is short. A brief opening of the eyes from slumber, only to see it is not yet time to wake.
There is a beauty in these slower processes which also exists in the faster ones, but those we overlook because they pass so quickly. We can sit and watch a sunset over a lake or mountain, but can we also gaze in awe upon the beauty in a passing stranger's eye? Someone dancing for a few seconds to a song without a care in the world; a drop of water landing in a puddle; two long-lost acquaintances embracing; a single stalk of grass swaying in the wind; a warm handshake from a new acquaintance; a laugh from across a coffee shop; a snowflake landing on your windshield, giving you a glimpse of a once-in-a-lifetime uniqueness before it melts away forever. These quick moments hold just as much beauty as anything else. They are just easier to miss.
Peace.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
The Mongolian Connection
So, I have always been a traveler. You could say I am afflicted with chronic wanderlust. I have often thought about living overseas for an extended amount of time. The idea of visiting a place for a few weeks does not particularly appeal to me as much as living somewhere for a few months, or even years. I want to really understand and experience any culture to which I am being introduced.
You may be surprised to hear in this context that I have never really wanted nor felt called to overseas missions work. It has not even mildly interested me in the past, even though I still plan on living in a different country (or countries) for several years of my life. Short-term missions in particular are what have made me dislike the idea of becoming a missionary. If I were to go into the mission field, it would be for an amount of time which would really get me into a culture, enough so I could be a citizen if I bothered with that process.
Due to its barren, wild landscape, interesting culture and history, and numerous important paleontological sites, Mongolia has always piqued my interest, one of the only Asian countries to do so.
This summer, a group called the Freedom Tour came through Lansing and held a weekend event at a local church. I attended on the last evening of it. During this time, they had everyone come up at least once to be prayed over and ask God for their calling, purpose, what they were made for, etc. Someone would be praying for you specifically and asking God for pictures and words about you, and another person would be writing it down. I went up for this. Among other things they said about me in which I could see God's truth, one of the words was something about being a light in Asia for God. They did say wheter anything which was prayed over me did or did not match up with what I already knew about God's calling for my life, pray about all of it. Since I had never considered missions work before (and especially not in Asia), I just took it in stride, although my mind went immediately to Mongolia as the only place which I would really consider.
Fast forward to this evening. I was at an event at the Furnace Prayer Room in East Lansing. A young man named Tyler was presenting something called the Ekballo Project, his idea for missions to the Himalayan region. During this time, I was reminded of what was said to me at the Freedom Tour event. I have become more acclimated to living in a more difficult situation, and although I have certain goals I am currently trying to attain, I would no longer put overseas missions out of the realm of possibility. With all of this in mind, I went up to the fellow after the presentation and prayer time was over and was about to ask if he could pray for me about this as a possibility for the future. Before I could ask, though, he said, "Have we met? Were you at the Freedom Tour this past year in Lansing?"
Whoa. As it turns out, this was in fact the same guy who had prayed over me at the event this summer! Now here I am asking for prayer about the very same things which were brought up at that time which are now in my head again. How very interesting.
Naturally, I would very much appreciate it if you all would pray God would guide me regarding the possibility of future missions to Mongolia. I will be praying a lot about it myself. Thank you.
Also, I finally have a job again! I am now working for Two Men and a Truck in Grand Rapids, where I will be living most of the week. My friend Andrew and I will hopefully be moved here fully in January.
Peace.
You may be surprised to hear in this context that I have never really wanted nor felt called to overseas missions work. It has not even mildly interested me in the past, even though I still plan on living in a different country (or countries) for several years of my life. Short-term missions in particular are what have made me dislike the idea of becoming a missionary. If I were to go into the mission field, it would be for an amount of time which would really get me into a culture, enough so I could be a citizen if I bothered with that process.
Due to its barren, wild landscape, interesting culture and history, and numerous important paleontological sites, Mongolia has always piqued my interest, one of the only Asian countries to do so.
This summer, a group called the Freedom Tour came through Lansing and held a weekend event at a local church. I attended on the last evening of it. During this time, they had everyone come up at least once to be prayed over and ask God for their calling, purpose, what they were made for, etc. Someone would be praying for you specifically and asking God for pictures and words about you, and another person would be writing it down. I went up for this. Among other things they said about me in which I could see God's truth, one of the words was something about being a light in Asia for God. They did say wheter anything which was prayed over me did or did not match up with what I already knew about God's calling for my life, pray about all of it. Since I had never considered missions work before (and especially not in Asia), I just took it in stride, although my mind went immediately to Mongolia as the only place which I would really consider.
Fast forward to this evening. I was at an event at the Furnace Prayer Room in East Lansing. A young man named Tyler was presenting something called the Ekballo Project, his idea for missions to the Himalayan region. During this time, I was reminded of what was said to me at the Freedom Tour event. I have become more acclimated to living in a more difficult situation, and although I have certain goals I am currently trying to attain, I would no longer put overseas missions out of the realm of possibility. With all of this in mind, I went up to the fellow after the presentation and prayer time was over and was about to ask if he could pray for me about this as a possibility for the future. Before I could ask, though, he said, "Have we met? Were you at the Freedom Tour this past year in Lansing?"
Whoa. As it turns out, this was in fact the same guy who had prayed over me at the event this summer! Now here I am asking for prayer about the very same things which were brought up at that time which are now in my head again. How very interesting.
Naturally, I would very much appreciate it if you all would pray God would guide me regarding the possibility of future missions to Mongolia. I will be praying a lot about it myself. Thank you.
Also, I finally have a job again! I am now working for Two Men and a Truck in Grand Rapids, where I will be living most of the week. My friend Andrew and I will hopefully be moved here fully in January.
Peace.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
The Rapture of the Forest
*This is an extended journal entry from my time in Idaho. I journaled nearly every single day. This entry was written after a walk along the road behind the farm.*
There is a single tree on the farm which is changing colours. Bright, flaming orange, and kind of scrawny.
Sometimes I pretend the clouds are mountains.
Sometimes I imagine the world is moving below the clouds instead of them above the earth. Walking becomes a totally different experience.
As I walked down the road, I realised the raven I heard behind me was catching up. I turn around to look for it, and its calls somehow passed me by, as if made by a phantom bird. Looking up, I see the black phantom high above me, higher than I thought ravens were ever interested in flying. It floated in tight circles on thermals, quickly moving on toward the wilderness.
After finding a cold stream and a trail leading up into the mountains, I turned back. On the road, something happened. I stopped to listen to the rocks. When I did, the forest and rocks sang out for just a moment. The song was deafened in short order by one of the weightiest silences I have ever experienced.
That silence. It almost felt as if some primeval behemoth had me locked in its gaze. I couldn't move.
The Ancient approaches in the silence of the wilderness. You cannot escape. You cannot move. You can only know the Weight of the Presence.
Primeval is the best word. A great power, unknowable, older than the world. No evil intention, yet fear grips you.
A great Deep. Everything stills itself for what seems like an eternity, except the wind. The wind brings this Presence. To and fro it roams. We may not meet again for some time. You cannot search for and find the Presence; you can, however, go out to meet it. Where you meet it is not up to you.
Minutes passed, unmoving. I could have stood there for hours.
The burden grows. You realise it is real. Then it begins to fade, moving on past you. Something breaks you trance, and you realise the Presence is already gone. The dream has passed, and you have woken up. Perhaps, though, this is now the dream, and you had let reality take hold of you for just a moment; now it is gone, and you slumber peacefully, waiting for the wake-up call and that great Dread to find you once again.
Peace.
There is a single tree on the farm which is changing colours. Bright, flaming orange, and kind of scrawny.
Sometimes I pretend the clouds are mountains.
Sometimes I imagine the world is moving below the clouds instead of them above the earth. Walking becomes a totally different experience.
As I walked down the road, I realised the raven I heard behind me was catching up. I turn around to look for it, and its calls somehow passed me by, as if made by a phantom bird. Looking up, I see the black phantom high above me, higher than I thought ravens were ever interested in flying. It floated in tight circles on thermals, quickly moving on toward the wilderness.
After finding a cold stream and a trail leading up into the mountains, I turned back. On the road, something happened. I stopped to listen to the rocks. When I did, the forest and rocks sang out for just a moment. The song was deafened in short order by one of the weightiest silences I have ever experienced.
That silence. It almost felt as if some primeval behemoth had me locked in its gaze. I couldn't move.
The Ancient approaches in the silence of the wilderness. You cannot escape. You cannot move. You can only know the Weight of the Presence.
Primeval is the best word. A great power, unknowable, older than the world. No evil intention, yet fear grips you.
A great Deep. Everything stills itself for what seems like an eternity, except the wind. The wind brings this Presence. To and fro it roams. We may not meet again for some time. You cannot search for and find the Presence; you can, however, go out to meet it. Where you meet it is not up to you.
Minutes passed, unmoving. I could have stood there for hours.
The burden grows. You realise it is real. Then it begins to fade, moving on past you. Something breaks you trance, and you realise the Presence is already gone. The dream has passed, and you have woken up. Perhaps, though, this is now the dream, and you had let reality take hold of you for just a moment; now it is gone, and you slumber peacefully, waiting for the wake-up call and that great Dread to find you once again.
Peace.
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