All is Calm

Not really - at least, it shouldn't be :) There's enough going on on this end of the screen that should lead to stress. But, c'mon. It's Christmas. I don't mean that in a gushy feel all good inside kind of way. Rather, it's a Jesus has come and entered into this madness and brings shalom with him . . . yeah, that kind of way.

When I say to people that I have this sense of inner peace in outwordly crazy situations, I don't mean that there is never conflict. I don't mean that I never experience frustration, that I am somehow removed from the chaos around me. I'm going to rely on the words of my good friend Mike (another blog you should all check out ), because he says what I'm trying to say, and there is no sense re-inventing the wheel . . .

Shalom, peace, is more than lack of conflict, armed or otherwise. It is the reconciliation of all things, the "making right" of things. This shalom, this peace on earth to men, takes so much more in scope than a simple (ha) elimination of war. This peace is the peace of Christ, the prince of peace, whose reign is that about which we read. Peace on earth does not speak of kind feelings only, but about obedience to the highest power, about glory to God, and about submission to the reign that brings peace.

(Taken from Mike's recent post on "Peace on Earth . . . check it out at http://theo-blogy.blogspot.com/)


You see, with this peace, this calm, there is purpose. I am not calm in this place in the world solely for myself, but because shalom is so desperately needed. I just finished watching Pay It Forward, which SHOULD have cracked that recent top ten list (taking V for Vendetta's place, probably . . . ). And every time I watch it, which isn't too often, I think about how much one person can do. I think about how Jesus' revolution got started, and how it is at its core a very grassroots thing . . . how it's not about lofty ideals and sweeping proclamations that are somehow so set in stone.

Life is messy, and we do ourselves no favours by ignoring this or pretending it to be otherwise. I talked to my dad today, seconds after opening a package from him for Christmas . . . and it hasn't been an easy ride, reconnecting with my dad, and there have been bumps along the way, but it's worth it . . it's messy at times, it's hard, and it took every ounce of strength and courage I had to enter into it, but I'm so very glad I did.

I talked to my mom today before that, and we've had our rough patches. I have said things to her in the past I didn't mean, I've brushed her off when I really wanted to tell her how much she means to me . . . and sometimes, when I feel she doesn't think I can handle life on my own, I try to shut her out. But I love my mom so very much, and I miss her the most around Christmas.

I used to have these bold ideas about changing the world, about making some kind of huge difference in the lives of total strangers - yet I would exert precious little emotional energy with my own flesh and blood. Maybe it's easier to show love to a stranger - it takes a bit of courage, sure, but not nearly as much as it does to live with family, to be vulnerable and let people love you even though they know who you really are. And for me, that's part of where this shalom finds its source. My family has a messed up past, and we're not perfect people. But there is a sense of peace when you enter the French household, not because we're so great, but because a great God is at work, redeeming our dark places. And from this, I can go into other dark places and be a part of that redeeming and reconciling . . . and so can you.

Shall we?

Poetry . . .

What Have We Become?

As the fog lifted, revealing the ground

She gazed, stunned, not making a sound

The horror hitting her of all she had found

Pock marked craters, a battle here fought

Limbs, bodies torn apart, for nought

She fell to the earth, cried in anguish, thought

What have we become?

As the sun rose, beautifying the sky

He drove to his office in a building high

Not once did he stop and ask himself why

Why the six figure salary? The Aramni suits?

Why the cars and boats, alligator skin boots?

The ravenous faces of the corporate recruits -

What have we become?

As the sun set, coloring everything red

As a tired populace prepared for bed

One turned to the other, looked, and said

"Is life still precious?" - to the edge he creeped

Ans said no more, but choked, and weeped

The question unasked as he knowingly leaped -

What have we become?

As she lay there, just wanteing it to end

Was this what he meant to mean by "friend"?

THe tears she shed to him anger did lend . . .

What have we become?

LIFE

Quite quiet, causing no notice at all

Dew drops on green grass blades reflecting the light

Now nothing draws nigh to hear the faint call

The scarce cry - this worm will begin to fight

His chains shall be broken, and he shall be free

For lo, this occurence has oft hap'd before

It is his fate, his very destiny

Surely what blind providence has in store

Or is it? For others have failed in this place

Or failed to fight, and honour their youth

In failing, do they prove God's distaste?

Or prove fate fails to exist? Here's truth -

If he desires to be a butterfly

The worm's choice is to fight, or die

Though fated, once fighting, to become more

The outcome of the fight's not stone

HIs chains may triumph, may win this war

OR he might prevail - this we know

That weary though he may become

Wishing wings would simply appear

As if by magic, and if not, by some

Other mystical means just be here

Strong though this desire in him may be

The strength he needs has no magic source

Rather, a more simple means we see

The obviousness leading to "Aha! Of Course"

The chains which a prison seem to be

Strengthen that which will set him free

GF 09

How I See things . . . .

Hope is definitely different than optimism. Optimism is the belief that everything will turn out well, while hope is the certainty that everything will make sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Vaclav Havel

Dandelions

It has yet to feel completely natural to be vulnerable for me . . . if you've ever been subject to an lengthy pause while talking to me, you may have been privy to an inner turmoil barely contained. You see, I long for nothing more than to hold out my hands, as it were, with my life in them and say - SEE! This is me. I'm Greg. - and I always picture myself as a 5 year old when I do this. Not sure why, but I think 5 would be the age that I was last innocent. It seems that since that tender age, there has been something deep and dark that I've always felt near, something oppressive, something to gain victory over.

And so, though I sense that being vulnerable and open is tied into being fully alive, and that the things I see as valuable and of prime importance in friendships stem from openness, I hesitate. Not always, but often. Perhaps there is wisdom in this - the whole pearls and swine analogy. Perhaps the best and truest friendships are cultivated over time, not short circuited by going deep instantly. But really, my main motive is self preservation - I've been burnt before, and it's not that great. It stings, deeply, like your very soul somehow got stabbed.

And, partly because of this, and partly inspired by this, I had come to see myself as deserving of my fate - that somehow, I deserved to be burnt when I extended a hand of friendship, that I deserved to not just feel, but BE abandoned, and that the most use I had in life was to be used and then spit out when my usefulness was spent. Understand, it wasn't like I ever wanted to feel this way; but as a young one, you can only bear the brunt of a lie for so long before it starts to ring true.

In the midst of this feeling useless, I came across a song by Five Iron Frenzy, who have since become one of my favorite bands of life. The track is called "Dandelions", and I think it captures what I'm trying to say better than I am.


In a field of yellow flowers,
underneath the sun,
bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
reveling in tiny dreams,
filling up, his arms with flowers,
right for giving any queen.

Running to her beaming bright,
while cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light,
within his mother's eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
keeping them where they'll be safe,
clasped within her very marrow,
dandelions in a vase.

She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds.
all hope is found.
Here is everything he needs.

Fathomless your endless mercy,
weight I could not lift.
Where do I fit in this puzzle,
what good are these gifts?
Not a martyr, or a saint,
scarcely can I struggle through.
All that I have ever wanted,
was to give my best to you.

Lord, search my heart,
create in me something clean.
Dandelions
you see flowers in these weeds.

Gently lifting hands to heaven,
softened by the sweetest hush,
a Father sings over his children,
loving them so very much.
More than words could warrant,
deeper than the darkest blue,
more than sacrifice could merit,
Lord, I give my heart to you.



I especially love the first chorus - She sees love where anyone else would see weeds. I mean really, how could this mother react in another way? Her little man just bravely picked a bouquet for her - who cares if they're "weeds"?

And I love how this theme carries into the next half of the song, where, as an adult (or so I picture it) the singer expresses that he feels unworthy, yet all his unworthiness and failed attempts are still so beautiful to God . . .

I'm not going to sit here merely dreaming of making a difference. I know I have already in the lives of so many people, whether it be a simple laugh, a hug when needed, truth spoken in love, or love spoken truly . . . but to me, it all seems like a filed of dandelions sometimes, more weeds than beauty. I feel like I'm my own worst enemy, like there is a way of life that I truly want to live out, and the only thing stopping me is me. And, too often, I succeed in doing just that.

None of my really deep plans seem bad to me. I'm not setting out to hurt anyone. I've never woken up to say - hey, how can I really screw someone over today. Yet too often, I've been more a source of pain than a source of love. I'm not content to stay that way (and thank God I haven't), but it is lamentable.


There is comfort though, in knowing that if no one else really gets where you're coming from, if no one else believes the integrity of your character or the purity of your motives, at least God does. And when the world sees nought but weeds, our Father sees a radiant bouquet, picked with nothing more than love for the Lover of our soul.

If you took the time to read this, thank you. Though I definitely get some enjoyment and satisfaction out of writing, you're the real reason I write. I write about the thigns I write about because this thing called life is too grand a thing to keep to yourself, and my best attempts at conversation tend to result in me being either too closed or far too open for the level of friendship involved.

Be blessed,

Greg

Thoughts . . .

Just some things that have me thinking a bit this season . . . enjoy!



The more a man can forget, the greater the number of metamorphoses which his life can undergo; the more he can remember, the more divine his life becomes.
Soren Kierkegaard


The essence of optimism is that it takes no account of the present, but it is a source of inspiration, of vitality and hope where others have resigned; it enables a man to hold his head high, to claim the future for himself and not to abandon it to his enemy.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer


Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither.
C. S. Lewis

God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing.
C. S. Lewis

Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.
C. S. Lewis

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die.
Gilbert K. Chesterton

Fable is more historical than fact, because fact tells us about one man and fable tells us about a million men.
Gilbert K. Chesterton

A great man is always willing to be little.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

An ounce of action is worth a ton of theory.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cuz I'm in the Mood for it . . . . .

Hey all. Taking a break from a rather dull day to do what I do when I feel this way - it's TopTens time !
Read the following with the understanding that at this time tomorrow, the list might have changed.

Here we Go -


GREG'S TOP TEN MOVIES OF ALL TIME

10. Hotel Rwanda
9. V for Vendetta
8. Waking Ned Devine
7. Gladiator
6. Shawshank Redemption
5. Life is Beautiful
4. Life as a House
3. Braveheart
2. LOTR Trilogy
1. Slumdog Millionaire


Novels

10. Three Musketeers Alexandre Dumas
9. Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe
8. Glastonbury
7. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
6. Rubber Duck - Jack Douglas
5. Chasing Francis ?
4. The Watchmen - Alan Moore
3. A Canticle for Liebowitz - ?
2. Lamb - Christopher Moore
1. Catch -22 - Joseph Heller

Songs (gonna be tougher)

10 Space Between - Dave Matthews Band
9 Don't Drink the Water - Dave Matthews Band
8 Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers
7 Hey Jude - The Beatles
6 Careful - Michelle Featherstone
5 On Fire - Switchfoot
4 Hoppipolla - Sigur Ros
3 Falling Slowly - Glenn Hansard
2 Every New Day - Five Iron Frenzy
1 With or Without You - U2



K - they're all open to debate or opinion, but as of 10:30 or so on this thursday night, that's my top tens.

The Times they are a Changin'

"Change can be so constant that you don"t even feel the difference till there is one - it can be so slow that you don't know your life is better or worse until it is, or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant . . . it happened to me."


This is a quote from one of my favorite movies of all time, Life as a House. It's a story of great healing, of relationships and how the mess is so worthwhile, of how life isn't life unless you're risking all you've got for it, of how there are bonds which time may weaken but never truly break. I love it.

The character who gives this outlook on life is the father in the movie, who (possible spoiler alert) has an epiphany of sorts in the wake of tragedy, which leads to his rethinking his life. Though initially his priorities seem to shift almost instantaneously, the actual transformation happens (or has been happening) his whole life.

I think I've fallen into a bit of the mindset of this microwave culture of ours (a term I use without any hint of superiority, just a touch of lament). The things in my own life that I wanted to change had to change overnight, or they wouldn't change at all. I yearned for life altering moments, where you know in a profound way that you are part of something huge. I longed not just for a climax, but for a dramatic climax to every situation.

I find it hard to take things slow. What I sense lies before me is too enticing to not sprint for. But this race of life is a marathon if nothing else, and as such, these slow changes are beautiful, more like the gradual erosion of hard rock than a TNT explosion on a cliff face.

And I think I'm okay with that.

Oh Christmas . . .

I have a bit of a love / hate relationship with Christmas. On the one hand, it's a season of joy, peace, hope, love, etc., regardless of your religious affiliation. I think it's safe to say most people in Canada, even those who recently immigrated here, get a sense that there is something a little different about Christmas, or at least that traditionally, there should be.

I heard a radio ad for a Salvation Army toy drive try to make the point that it is just as hard on teens as it is on children aged 5 - 12 to not have toys under the Christmas tree. It was coupled with a very intentionally heart moving plea to donate toys to this particular organization (which I have nothing against.) What really irked me was the sentiment that not receiving a toy this time of year is troubling, and of all the things to do this Christmas, we should make sure all teenagers have at least one toy under the tree. Also, we're gonna need some trees donated.

Is it really a gift if it's demanded? Expected? And if that demand is unmet, should it be emotionally traumatizing? I'm not faulting those who grew up with this mindset and have not advanced enough in years to question it, nor am I saying not to give. I love giving. I love being gifted by those who do so because this bond means something to them. But rarely, if ever, do I approach Christmas dreaming of what I'm going to get. And this isn't a hey, look at me, I'm so awesome kinda rant. It really saddens me that we condition generation after generation to the point that someone finds it necessary to PLEAD for someone to give because Christmas won't be Christmas without gifts, specifically toys.

And I get that we're talking about those who are less fortunate, and I don't wish to come across as crass or unfeeling. Again, please give. But don't just give a toy. Don't give an object and think that that solves everything - "There, now little Timmy won't murder his high school because we gave him a Lego set." No . . . . the biggest difference is love.

I pray for creativity, chiefly for myself (that I would live up to what I feel I'm asking others to do) , so that the ways in which we express love to mankind this year (not just this TIME of year) may reflect the heart of a God who loves recklessly, gives liberally, and longs to restore all things.

On a sidenote . . .

More than anything this time of year, I want to be with my family. And it's not that I don't have wonderful people around me here . . . but I want to wake up and have breakfast with the same people I've been waking up and having Christmas breakfast with for years, to partake again in our little traditions. I don't want anything else really - I just wanna go home . . .

I'm so very thankful for my family here, for making the past two Christmases be joyous and filled with love. But I miss my Mom . . . I miss Annalies and the movies we watch together, miss Kara and inevitably doing dishes together, miss Erika and playing games at the dining room table with Byron . . . amd even Charlie and his insistence on pouncing on me (as much as a Shih Tzu can) when I walk through the door.

I'll see you all soon :)

Awkward . . .

Hey

Ever have those social outings where you're absolutely positive that everything you do is awkward? Like you're trying to do ballet wearing stilts, or moonwalk on water, or strike up a normal conversation without saying anything socially inappropriate?

Yeah. Had one of those tonight. And it wasn't just one incident. Pretty much every time I opened my mouth, I questioned what came out.

Now, don't get me wrong, and don't hear what I'm not saying - I'm not taking shots at my self esteem on this one, and my confidence hasn't suffered. I just think it's funny. Nothing friendship damaging was done tonight - I don't think - but maybe I need to get outta the house more. Maybe in this now week long extended break from work, I've lost some social skills.

Meh. I'll be fine.

The Truths . . .

Thanks Marah :) I have some wise friends - and as Marah pointed out, we do need to have truths expressed to combat the lies the defend ourselves against. Here goes -



I'M A FUN GUY TO BE AROUND - especially in crowds, where it's so much easier to be a clown. Honest. And it's not so much that I'm a gifted joke-teller and story teller - though I AM that as well ;) - but I just do some downright hilarious things in the course of living my life. Hocking loogies on my face, getting flustered anytime I'm near cops, forgetting my (insert item of choice) at (insert place of choice), or losing my (same) under/over/through? the (same), constatnly Spoonering my words, misspelling constantly : the list is nigh endless. If you've known me for a few minutes, I've probably made you laugh.

I'M THERE FOR YOU - Like the Moffats so lyrically proclaimed in the mid 90s, I'll be there for you. Though far from perfect in my expressions of it, there isn't a lot I won't do for my friends in a time of need. And my shoulders are always here to cry on.

I'M DEEP - kind of a 50/50 good/bad on this one at times, but overall, I count it an asset. All I mean by this is that I have a capacity for meaningful conversation and meaningful relationships, not that I constantly ( NAILED IT!) write out sonnets in iambic pentameter, extolling the virtues of love, romance, and the pursuit thereof.

I DELIGHT IN LIFE, AND HELP OTHERS DO THE SAME - I was once accused (though I didn't take it as such) of "shitting out sunshine and rainbows." Thank you :) More often than not, I live in a way that brings people up, not tears them down, that brings joy and shalom, not darkness and hatred.

I'M A MAN - K, this isn't false machismo time. I'm the last guy who would beat my chest and proclaim my masculinty in guttaral sounds (unless your posterior was just returned to you in some form of competition - in which case, you deserved it.) I don't have any kind of barbaric bloodlust (just a civilized one), I've never beaten someone up (though I enjoy fighting), and I don't have any kind of desire to dominate. What I mean by all this is what's found in Micah 6:8 - doing justly, loving mercy, walking humbly with my God. If that sounds a little like a pansy, I dare you to try it. Loving mercy means looking someone in the eye that the world, and every bit of flesh in you, tells you you should hate, and saying "I love you", and then LOVING them. Doing justly means quitting a job because you can't be a part of a team of shysters. Walking humbly is saying "Not my way, but yours", and not just on Sunday, but everyday. I believe that my striving to live life this way is not just an abundant life, but the way of a man.

(Or woman. I just happen to be a guy.)



Thanks again Marah. And if you haven't already, check out her blog.