Drawing lines

What is it about drawing lines that seems to be so prevalent within the way I see the world? Often times I rush to group people into those who are “in” and those who are “out”. I classify people into religious groups, political groups and moral groups. In drawing lines I seclude myself and fail to see that not only are we all connected, but in separating myself I deny any chance to love.

I was reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller last night and one of the last chapter hit me in a peculiar way. Miller was talking about an experience he had with some hippies in the woods, he talked about how his upbringing taught him to steer clear of liberals, homosexuals and pot heads. However, after spending a month together with these evildoers, he found that they were indeed some of the most loving and accepting people he had ever met. He reflects about some past Christian communities he has been apart of saying,

"The problem with Christian community was that we had our ethics, we had rules and laws and principles to judge each other against. There was love in Christian community, but it was conditional love. Sure, we called it unconditional, but it wasn't. There were bad people in the world and good people in the world...Christianity was always right; we were always looking down on everybody else. And I hated this... I was tired of biblical ethics being used as a tool with which to judge people rather than heal them. I was tired of Christian leaders using biblical principles to protect their power, to draw a line in the sand separating the good army from the bad one."

I have some good friends here. It was hard at first to know how I should act around them, I mean they are... catholic (gasp) or agnostic, of atheist. There was this tension, something down deep within me that was putting this enormous pressure on my heart and mind to...well, save them.

If you cannot relate to what I am saying, let me share with you a little secret. It is hard and lets not forget awkward to carry on a conversation when you are thinking about try to change the other persons minds. In fact, I am going out on a limb in saying, it is impossible to love them, when you are trying to force change upon them.

It did not take long for me to identify this pressure to "convert the world" as something that is not good. Sure, it looks good, but it isn't. In the past four months I have had some of the most incredible conversations of my life. My friends have taught me how to listen and how to love. In fact, they have shown me Christ.

We may not share the views, but when you think about the word "view" as in "worldview" there is not a person in the world the sees and understands reality in the same way. We all "view" a painting or "see" a sun set differently, is one right and the other wrong? This is a rather vast subject and one that indeed makes people nervous, in fact it makes me uncomfortable just writing about it. Can every one be right? Well, I guess that depend upon the question. Some questions are by nature objective, others not so much. I am going to leave this question/thought open. But, my original point of the post was this: drawing lines is like building a wall and when we build walls between people who think or live differently than us, we are no longer in a position to love them, and if my memory serves me right, that was one of the things Jesus kept on nagging about.

O yeah, Merry Christmas to everyone!

I will be in France with my roommates and their families. I know sounds rough. All this traveling is starting to take a tole on me, but I will try to tough it out and take a few pictures along the way.

Note: about the picture, if you don't agree with me about what I have just written you too shall face me in the circle of doom (and yes, I won).

Location: Valencia, Spain a few weeks ago

Death.Life.Love

It is interesting to observe the reaction of people when you talk about death. Often time’s people grow uneasy and squirm around in their chair as if they have a rash of some sort. Recently, the subject of death has been the object of my thoughts and conversations. A little over a week has passed since a good friend of mine died, not a day has passed since then that I have not thought about him, nor has a day passed that I have not pondered my own death. Josh was younger that me, it was as if he had just started to live. But that all depends upon our definition of life: is life a unit of measurement? If so what does it measure?

Does “life” measure time or quality? When I think of Josh, I think of both. In one way his “life” was rather short, in another he lived an abundantly full “life”. For each day that I was around him it was as if he was savoring each drop, his heart was always curious and looking for adventure. But, Josh never had to look too far, for adventure seemed to follow him.

Last night as I was sitting on my window seal, I repeated a phrase that has become a part of what I call my “night time reflection”, often times I simply look into the sky and say, “the night has come once more.” I reflect upon the day and embrace the reality that I will never get to relive it, what has passed is done, over, history. I ask myself some questions and sometimes simply have a prayer like conversation.

I have been having some great conversations with one of my friends here on the subject of love. We come from two different backgrounds and have two different perspectives on the word. It really been great, indeed some of the best conversation I have with any of my friends here. Furthermore, this subject has come to mean far more in light of Josh’s death, for he was guy who loved deeply and that is what I want. It seems rather simple right? Often times I hear people bash preachers who talk too much about love, they think he has gone soft and would prefer him preach more fire and brimstone, there is somthing attractive to rules and structure that I do not understand. We always sell love for some unit of measurement. I am not so sure why we do this, but I am tired of it and realy, I don't think it works.

To understand love as something soft is to not understand love. As Brennan Manning once said in a sermon, “The love of God is like a raging fire, everyone wants to get close enough to keep warm, but few fall into it and allow it to transform our lives.” It is a beautiful and terrifying thing, a paradoxical idea that is simple and complex at the same time.

In my little world, it is Christ that embodies perfect love. To read of how he treated people, how he interacted with the lowly as if he did not see what others were seeing. I often wonder what it was like when the disciples and Jesus approached a beggar on the street. Maybe the disciples simply saw the dirty clothing and smelled the urine, while Jesus was able to see beyond the external into the man’s heart, almost as if looking at two completely different people. You know, I have no idea how all this works, but I am starting to feel as though I am getting a little close to something truly beautiful. Like a dog that has picked up a scent in the woods, he runs around often looking like a fool, often times he gets distracted by other scents, but he continues looking for he knows that somewhere in those woods is something beautiful and that beautiful thing is worth living and dying for.

Oh Night

Oh night, you have come once more. The clouds cover that which is beautiful, the stars from a distant world.

She moarns the loss of her son, her love not enough to change his fate, so she weeps, weeps, weeps.

Her tired heart enters the bed, longing for sleep to grant her relief, but it does not come. She lies there alone, wishing to turn back time. If only her love could control death, but it does not and death does not control her. It is simply a part of her.

My heart is with you.

*A tribute to the mothers in Africa who have lost because of aids and hunger related deaths.

Josh. Lantz.

Josh-top left. Location: Bolivia, the Yunga Cruz trail. When:Summer 2005

As I walk along a small stream I pass over the fallen leaves, some still retaining hints of yellow, green and red. I walk with my hands tucked into my coat, my fingers slightly clinched around my thumbs, a habit since birth. Thoughts of a friend recently passed flood my mind. Like a movie, memories are replayed, sorrow, joy and hope come like the oceans tide, as joy recedes back into the ocean of memories sorrow surged forth. Oh my friend, your beautiful heart was unique. It was raw, wild and free.

He was a brother who often struggled to find his place in this materialist world.
Without shoes he serves, without a plan he departed.
His love displayed within his captivating eyes, blue and full of grace.
When tension rose, he sought expression through music.
His finger danced across the wood and metal following his joyous heart.

Josh, I am thankful for having the opportunity to serve with you in Bolivia. Looking through our pictures I can think of several stories that turned my sorrow into laughter. When I talk about you to my friends here in Spain, they are sad for not knowing you.
I remember when we finished the Choro trail and I came down with a stomach bug, and felt like I was going to die. You walked up to me with a cup that contained a gel-like substance that did not look appetizing at all. When I asked what was in it you said, “Banana, orange juice, and a few other berries that I pulled off those bushes.” When I looked into your eyes I thought that you were joking, but alas you were a sincere as ever, I declined your offer, but was thankful for the effort.

It was your genuine desire to help others that reflected the love of Christ so clearly to me. There are so many other stories, some funny others not, but through the ups and downs you maintained a pure heart to simply know the Father and his love, and that is how I will remember you. Josh Lantz a man recklessly pursuing the heart of Jesus.

December 1, 2006

It has been a long week thus far. With exams on the horizon, the big question for me is this, what do I need to know?

The classes are structured much differently here. The syllabus that is given out at the start of the course does not have a daily break down of homework, quizzes and midterm exams; rather it is a list of subjects that we will be covering with a list of books. Most classes have one primary book that is to be read along with the lectures. Furthermore, there are books with chapter breakdowns that are listed under particular topics that are to be read when the student does not understand or simply when he or she wishes fill in what the teacher left out.

Personally, I enjoy this type of format. It places the responsibility on the student. In my three short years in the University this is the first time I have actually felt like a student. One definition of a student is, “any person who studies, investigates, or examines thoughtfully” (dictionary.com). When a particular subject comes up in a class and I don’t understand, there is a part of me that looks at it like a challenge or mystery. Call me a nerd, but I anticipate the opportunity to go to the library or talk to the professor in my effort to understand. But, questions always seem to lead to… you guessed it, more questions! The process is endless.

I had only taken one history class in the university before this year. Currently I am enrolled in three, and I enjoy immensely. Sure, it can be rather taxing trying to understand the economic development of Spain in the XVI century and there is always the issue of language, but its fun and very humbling. There will always be more that I don’t know that I do and although that can be hard for a human so swallow, I think it puts me as an individual in my correct place.

The weather is cold here in Zaragoza and I miss my family and friends a lot. Last night I felt rather sick and wanted nothing more than to be in the company of friends. After a few failed attempts to call friends, I had to accept the reality of my condition. It can be romantic a times to think about being in Spain, but there are times when neither books, nor music, nor anything else can replace our desire to me in the presence of one who understand us.

Pictures from Portugal

Thanksgiving with Bono

Happy Thanksgiving friends and family!

As I sat in the kitchen drinking a glass of red wine and eating a plate of rice topped garbanzo beans and red sauce, I thought of my family. As U2 filled the air with their beautiful lyrics, I could not help but think about what my family was doing at the moment. Most likely, they are eating some delicious food and enjoying conversation with a football game being shown on T.V. in the living room.

Although my heart would love to be with them, there is something good about being alone. Many times our absence from family and friends helps us to see how deeply we love them. I know this it true for me.

When You Look at the World
U2

When you look at the world
What is it that you see
People find all kinds of things
That bring them to their knees

I see an expression
So clear and so true
That changes the atmosphere
When you walk to the room

So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do
But without you its no use
I cant see what you see
When I look at the world

When the night is someone elses
And youre trying to get some sleep
When your thoughts are too expensive
To ever want to keep

When theres all kinds of chaos
And everyone is walking lame
You dont even blink now do you
Dont even look away

So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do
But without you its no use
I cant see what you see
When I look at the world

I cant wait any longer
I cant wait til Im stronger
Cant wait any longer
To see what you see
When I look at the world

Im in the waiting room
I cant see for the smoke
I think of you and your holy book
When the rest of us choke

Tell me tell me
What do you see
Tell me tell me
Whats wrong with me

on the move

Lisboa, Portugal


It is about time to get out of town. My friend invited me to go with him to Portugal, at first I was hesitant for that would involve me missing three days of class. He was coming over to hear my answer and I had decided to tell him “no”, but as he entered the apartment, something in me changed. In a little over thirty seconds I had changed my mind and agreed to go. Not only am I going to go to Portugal, I am going to take four days to get there and visit a few cities along the way.

My roommates have been giving me a hard time because every time they ask me what I am doing, I have a new plan or no plan at all. At the moment, my plan is as followed;

Thursday: wake up around 8am and take a bus to Madrid. From there, I am going to take another bus west. I am not sure where, but things tend to work out.

Friday- Saturday: ?
Sunday: meet Pier in Lisboa
Sunday-Friday: ?
Saturday: Return to Zaragoza

Life in Spain.

Things are going well, I have been spending a lot of time reading and indeed enjoying that, however, I might be over doing it. Example, one of my friends wanted me to read a book called “God in the State” by Michael Bakunin. For some reason I did not start reading it until Saturday afternoon. My friend wanted me to read it because we have been having some interesting conversation about life/faith/ world view and he told me that this was a book that brought all his thoughts together. The book is red with a picture of the late Mr. Bakunin sporting a wiry beard and a quasi cray look in his eye. As I read the back trying to get a feel for the book, the description said, “God and the State has been a basic anarchist and radical document for generations. It is one of the clearest statements of the anarchist philosophy of history: religion by its nature is an impoverishment, enslavement, and annihilation of humanity. It is a weapon of the state.” You could see why I have been putting off reading such a book (not what you would call a pick-me-up). But, I want to understand what he thinks and this is indeed important to him.

After about two hours of reading and taking notes, I had to call a friend of mine (Jason Jackson), the book was wearing my little brain out. I still have about half of the book to go and I will indeed finish it, but not until I get back. I know that there are a lot of people that generally avoid books like this as if it is the plague (and I can understand that), but that is not ok with me, I want to learn how to think, how to process information, but this is hard when you grow up in the world of consumerism. We tend to take in information like cows, we listen accept and move on. However, problems arise when you hear or read things that are in conflict with one another.

So, there are two ways (maybe more) to go from here. One, filter your information and only listen to things that you agree with or two, learn to think. There is great value in the ability to sort through information with the hope of coming to a more full understanding. This is where I find myself, its not easy, but I don’t want ease.

I think critics get a bad wrap. The word critical, mean to take a careful or examined look at something, from politics to religion this idea is of utmost importance. Ok, that is enough ranting for me, but I guess that is what this whole blog thing is all about.

Fresh Air

Overwhelming feelings of thankfulness flowed through my body as I sat on my window seal. As I shut my eyes and took in the some fresh air, I exhaled gratitude for my friends, family and for yet another day in Spain.

One of my main worries in coming to Spain was finding community. However, my definition of community two months ago is much different than it is now. The first month I struggled with the fact that there were few Christians here. There was a feeling of "me against the world", Colby had to be strong and be a light into the darkness. As time moves forth I don't see it like that way, the reality is we are all people and we are trying to make since of the world around us and we are all in different places and canl indeed learn from oneanother.

A few of my friends sent me a few books this week, one of the is called "A New Kind of Christian" by Brian McLaren and so much of its content finds a place in much of what I have been feeling on a level that is almost scary.

On faith and others
"Instead of saying 'Hey, they're wrong and we're right, so follow u,s" I think we say, 'Here's what I've found. Here's what Ive experienced. Here's what makes since to me. I'll be glad to share it with you, if you're interested.'

Instead of conquest, instead of a coercive rational argument or an emotional intimidating sales pitch or an imposing crusade or an aggressive debate contest where we hope to 'win' them to Christ, I think of it like a dance. You know, in a dance nobody wins and nobody loses. Both parties listen to the music and try to move with it. In this case, I hear the music of the gospel, and my friend doesn't, so I try to help him hear it a move with it. And like a dance, I have to ask if the other person wants to participate. There's a term for pulling someone who doesn't want to dance: assault."

If there is one thing that I have learned about my friends here it is that they know authenticity. There have been times when I have made conversations so uncomfortable because I try to force the topic into a place that it was not naturally going. In reality, I think it was uncomfortable for me and just silly for them.

Most Europeans have had their fair share of Religion, and we have seem how counter productive it was to force it upon others, for we are still reaping to bad fruit of such an approach. I have meet people in South America, Europe and in the U.S who cannot see the beaureligiousrist because of religios people who would rather judge you and send you away than to embrace you. Was it not Jesus who said, "They will know you are my desciple by your love"? I think we have blown it and repentance is in order, for I am guilty. I have has my fill of guilt ridden spirituality damn it, I want freedom! And I have a sneaking suspicion that this is a common denominator within everyone.

Back to Community

The reality of my situation it this; my community at this point in my life is comprisoned of two wonderful French girls (Amelie and Claire) and a kind spirited German guy (Ole). Furthermore, I have friends from all over Europe who have experienced life in a way that is very different. I would do well to shut up, ask questions and listen. This is my community for this season of my life and I believe that the Father is in the middle of it all.

just a little note

As life here in Spain continues becomes more natural and I thrust myself deeper into my studies, it’s a rather nice feeling. I have no pictures from any trips to offer and no tails of great adventures, but I am simply finding joy in the day to day.

Here are a few of the things I am thankful for.
1. Books, I am currently reading about the French Revolution and others.
2. Friends, both the ones in the U.S and here.
3. Don Antonio, my cactus that accompanies me almost daily on the window seal.
4. Languages (Spanish, French and a little English)
5. Good Professors
6. Freedom
7. Good food
8. Learning about myself and learning from others
9. Skype
10. Don and Lori Chaffer and their music that often soothes my soul.
11. My Parent
12. The mountains
13. The fresh air that the new day brings
14. Pictures
15. Distance and the perspective that it tends to bring into ones life.
16. Books
17. Running
18. Hope
19. Café y tortilla española
20. Hard times- (its always easier to say while we are not in them)

Well friends, I hope that when you read this you smile a little and know that I am also thankful for you. (yes, I know that is a cheese things to say, but its true)

A little taste of my world

I enjoy a concert and part as much as the next guy (only half true) but a week! That is too much for me. The Festival de Pilar is over and if you want to know what its about look it up on google. It was nice not being in school and I had good old Ernest Hemingway to keep me company on the window seal.

I am taking a break from reading an article for one of my classes and wanted to give you a little taste of what I am looking at.

La Relación Entre Población, producción y Progreso
T.R Malthus (1792)

Capítulo 1
Los grades e imprevisibles descubrimientos de los últimos años en la filosofía natural; la creciente difusión de la cultura general, gracias a la extensión del arte de imprimir; el espíritu investigador, ardiente y libre, que prevalece en el mundo culto e incluso en el mundo inculto; la nueva y extraordinaria claridad que ha sido proyectada sobre la vida política, deslumbrando y asombrando a los mas entendidos y especialmente, aquel tremendo…

ten pages to go!


and you thought all I was doing in Spain was climbing rocks and going to concerts. Nope, that is false. I have a lot of reading to do and the only option for me is to keep plugging along.

Life is mellowing out and it is a good feeling. I have made some friends and am learning a little french along the way. The weather has been nice over the past few weeks, however it is going to get cold soon enough. Time to keep reading, peace out friends.

Albarracin

One of the things I don't like about this whole blog thing is that you (yes, you who are reading these words) get the hear about my life, and see pictures about what is going on here in Spain. But, I have no idea who reads this, nor do I get the hear about any of you. You know if that is all I have to complain about then I guess things are not so bad.

Here are a few pictues and I will keep blogging for a while longer.

Here are some pictures from a rock climbing trip from two weeks ago. Albarracin is about two hours south of Zaragoza. It is a beautiful old city, one of the few walled cities here in Spain.

Barcelona and Ben Harper

Last weekend I went to Barcelona to see Ben Harper in concert and to see the city. The city was cool and all but the concert... wow, the concert was incredible.

The opening band was a group from Spain called "Ojos de Brujo" and they were very entertaining and I most definitely got my groove on with their crazy Spanish rhythm. Ben Harper came on and I proceeded to dance and sing as if I were the only one around. It was a liberating concert. Something deep within felt a since of relief after few hard weeks. The pressure of being in another country, language and a lot of self induced strain was really starting to get to me. Being in a place where I could just express myself was so good. Often times I get so full of different emotions that I don't seem to be able to manage, they build without an exit, so with my blue tie die shirt and my favorite pains on I danced and sang with all that I had and it felt so damn good.

some pictures

Here are a few links to some pictures if you care to take a look.


Torla, Biescas, monte perdido



My home, Zaragoza, Spain

Well said Mr. Chaffer

I connect with this song very well at the moment.

Life here is good, times of despair mixed with great joy. The exposure to new ideas and people from all over the world can be overwhelming for an Okie like myself, but it good to remind myself to just keep moving, keep writing, keep thinking and take it in as fully as possible.



Learning How to Rest
by Don Chaffer

I came around the corner
Of the outer edge of town
You were standin’ in the center
There were people gathered all around
I’d never get through this crowd
You know my heart went kind of numb
But You smiled when You saw me
And You beckoned me to come

So I struggled through the pressing mass
I had a thousand things to say
But I was sure Your ears were flooded
There was just too much in the way

CHORUS
But then You said to me
Come away by yourself to a lonely place for a while
Well, I’m sure you’re tired
You know, I cannot even see your smile
There’s just too many people here
Why don’t you come and be with me
Then you took my hand
And we headed out for the sea

I got here late this morning
You’ve been gone since the other day
They took You to the tomb
But I guess we all go there someday
I came out here to get away
To get some time to think
Nothing’s making sense right now
I feel like I’m on the brink

Then on the distant shore
I hear one strong voice say
That side is yielding nothing
Cast your net the other way

BRIDGE
You know things get hard and the world’s not stopping for me
But I know now what to do and I know where I need to be

my head hurts

Week one of class is under my belt, well kinda. If you have seen the movie 13th Warrior you will understand in part what it is like to sit in a class and listen to a lecture for an hour trying with all that is within you to understand what is being said, but still you can only pick up bits and pieces. After ten minutes of intense listening I would need to take a break, much like a runner does in the middle of a track workout. There are times that it seems as though I can feel my brain getting bigger or maybe it’s imploding.

Anyway, things are going. School has started and I feel pretty good. However, it is hard to really know sometimes what is going on inside. Last night when I got back from reading at a nearby pub, I stopped by Ameli’s room to talk for a bit. It had been a long day and my tiredness magnified my emotions of irritability. I did not feel sad, but in the middle of explaining how I felt, I had to stop talking in order to hold back my tears. Its funny, I didn’t even see it coming. But, this shall pass. I don’t know how long it will take, but all I can do it try to keep moving forward.

But, this is indeed something to look forward to! Ben Harper + Barcelona for 4 days+ new people= A good time awww yea!

Note!!!!!!!!!!!!
I wrote my address down wrong, so here it is.

Calle Latassa 23 2B
Duplicado
50006, Zaragoza
Zaragoza, Spain

Its nice to have a good place to read and I have that place. There are times that I get funny looks from people in the street, but I don't care.

Torla- part II

The ground began to rumble as Huw sat up in the cold wet tent. He looked at me, but I was sound asleep. I felt a sudden pain in my side. As I began to wake up the tent was shaking. Huw looked at me and said,
-“Holy hell, it sounds like the mountains are going to fall down!”
-“Hue, I’m from Oklahoma, we have storms like this all the time. It will pass” I said calmly “just go back to sleep.”
About three hours later I woke up, the clouds still smothering the sunlight. As I poked my head out of the tent, I could not help but wonder how long the rain would continue. But, I had no room to complain, I did not look at the weather beforehand, planning not being a particular strength of mine. This of course often to source of many problems and adventures, because, what’s fun is it if everything is set in stone?
The ground was wet, as were our close, packs, and tent. So, we spent the next few hours in a near by bathroom trying to dry our stuff out under a hand driers. It should be noted, that this method is rather tedious, but it worked. Huw came down with a fever and the weather forecast was rain for the next 24-48hrs. We decided to walk back to the little town just west of where we camped in hopes of finding a warm dry place to sleep for the night.
As expected, the sky began to growl like a man’s stomach who had not eaten in a week. So we followed suit and began to cover our bags and put on our rain coats. As Huw struggled to get his coat he commented,
-“this coat is pure rubbish! Gortex my ass!” he said emphatically, as he held the coat in front of him noting the areas that were completely absorbed with water.
-“I feel horrible” he said
-“ok, lets get out of here before the volume two of ‘The Perfect Storm’ commences.”
We started down the road and we only need to cover a few kilometers to reach Biescas.
As we entered the town, we could tell that is was not a normal stop for tourists. It was a nice town, but a bit eerie. As we walked through the streets, the people looked at us as if we did not belong there. We asked a man where the cheapest place to find a room was and he told us, it was on the other side of town. Fortunately for us Biescas is a small town. We walked through the door to find an empty reception desk, we rang the bell and nothing happened. We decided to try a little later so we went across the street to find something warm to drink.
The cafeteria was a small and crowded full of men watching T.V. Huw and I entered with our packs on and as soon as we broke the plain of plastic beads that acted as a door the men stopped what they were doing and just looked at us for a while, one of the guys got up from his table providing us a place to sit. We placed our bags against the wall next to what looked to be a slot machine. At this point we did not really care if we were welcomed or not, we had committed and decided to ride it out. After a café and a few tapas (tapas are similar to appetizers in the U.S., but not as fancy), we decided to try the hotel once more.
Huw was looking pretty bad, any color he had in his face was gone and he was doing his best to stay focused until he could get in bed. The lady showed us to a room, it had two beds that occupied the majority of the space, but we were content. Huw dropped his bag and crawled into bed. I took a shower and put on some clean, but damp clothes and went for a walk around the city.
The sun was trying to come out almost all afternoon, but… it was not raining. The day was still young and I wanted to see some more of this town. I found a nice walking trail next to the river and enjoyed that for a while. On my way back I ran into an older gentleman by the name of Don Antonio, he was staying in what looked to be a retirement home. He spoke very quickly, but had a beautiful smile and wore a classic driving hat.
One of the many things I hope to learn about while in Spain centers around the Spanish Civil War. Much like in the U.S, many veterans are getting older and their stories will simply be another event in History. But, I had the opportunity to hear a first had accounts and that is something you can’t get in the classroom. So, I asked Don Antonio about his life.
He was born and raised on a small farm in Biescas. Pointing over my shoulder he showed me where the school house used to be, he smiled as he reminisced of the past. As I looked into his eyes, I could see him as a young boy running around the school yard chasing the girls. His body reflected a number of hard years on earth, but his spirit was still very much alive. We laughed together a bit and then I asked him about the war. He told me that the people of Biescas fought for Franco, he did not say it with shame or regret, but simply as it was. He told me about a battle the occurred between Biescas and Gavin, which was close to were we had camped that night.
-“los de Gavín eran Republicanos, y nosotros somos de Franco” he said.
He gave me a brief account of what happened. He used his walking stick, he pointed out houses used for defense and the rout the enemy used to attack. The more he spoke the heavier his spirit grew. It was not long before he simply stopped talking. He looked at the ground, then back up at me,
-“muchos personas murieron aquí” (many people died here).
He gave me a few other details about the battle, but for him it was not a story, it was life. He lost friends and family; he fought against his neighbors and now, he walks the streets of a city that yields memories around every corner. We spoke a while longer before we said goodbye, but as we shuck hands he looked into my eyes and said with a calm sincere voice, “You are young, and have lot yet to experience in life.” As I walked away from him my heart grew heavy, I looked back as he was slowly making his way inside.
As I walked around the streets, you could see the decay brought about by the passing of time. I had a lot to think about, so I made my way into a nice warm bar, to think and enjoy a cup of café con leche.

The Torla expedition part I

As my dreams came to a close, my sore tired eyes opened. It was almost 9am on Wednesday and there was only one thing on my mind. Get out of the city. The destination was unknown and the events to take place a mystery. I had five days and a backpack. The contents: a two man tent, rain coat, a pair of paint, extra t-shirt, three pairs of socks, a few book, passport, money, toothbrush, chacos, two long sleeve shirts and a few other things.
As I began to walk towards the bus station, I smiled, for I had no idea where I was going to go. The goal was to go to the mountains and the general direction was north. So, I bought a bus ticket. While I was waiting it occurred to me that I did not have any food, so I bout some peanuts, almonds and bread. Then I had a café cortada (a shot of espresso with a little bit of hot milk) and bout a map.
I took my set on the bus and got out my lonely planet. As the bus set off I quickly fell asleep as the rocking of the bus seemed to put me into a trace. Then a sudden jarring of the bus caused my head to hit the window. This acted as a wake up call for me, because I still needed a plan. I opened my travel guide and flipped through it, El Parque Nacional de Ordesa y Monte Perdido was in the close proximity of where I wanted to go, so I got off the bus a little early at the small town of Sabiňanigo.
It was almost 11:30 when I arrived. The town was quiet and still. The streets we empty and the ticket office was closed until 3pm. As I took my first step outside of the bus station, it began to rain. I wandered around and found a pub in hopes of eating some lunch, but they did not have any food. So, I sat and studied my map and ordered yet another café cortada. After savoring each drop of what could be my last for a while, I headed back into the street. To my surprise, there was another guy who looked about as lost I was.
-“¿Discúlpame, pero de donde eres?” I said.
-“Yo soy de Inglaterra, ¿y tu?”
-“Soy americano”
-“ahh, good! Where are you trying to go?” he asked
-“well, I am not so sure, I was thinking of going to the National Park close to Torla”
“good, that is where I am going. But, I am going to climb Monte Perdido”
-“o yea, what is that?”
-“it’s one of the mountains in the park.”
-“Well, lets go!” I said,

It is always more fun to travel with someone, and this was no exception. His name was Huw and he had a very strong British accent. He told me that the next bus for Torla would leave tomorrow at 11am. We decided that waiting was not an option so we started walking.
The rain was still coming down and I had left my rain cover for my backpack at home. So all my stuff was getting wet and we needed to walk 17km. We tried hitch hiking for a while with no success. I spotted a gas station ahead of us, so we sought cover under the roof far a little while and I begged the men at the station to give me a trash bag so I could cover my bag. He smile and observed with curiosity as I made a makeshift rain cover for my bag and it worked rather well. With a boost of confidence I slung my pack on my back and Huw and I headed out onto the open road.
We had not made in 100 meters when the slight rain turned to a full blown down pour. Any hope of getting a ride was gone, and we walked back to the gas station only to be meet by the guy at the station with this “you stupid kid” look on his face.
-“I think we need to get a bit more aggressive in out approach” I said
-“what do you mean?” responded Huw
-“I mean, I am going to make someone look me in the cold wet face and tell me no, instead of simply driving by.”

Five minuets later we were on our way to Biescas with a group of musicians from Zaragoza. They even played AC/DC in our honor. Huw and I looked at each other and smile while shaking our heads. The plan had worked.

We found a camp site a few kilometers outside of town. After we set up out tent, a nice cold beer was the only thing on our mind, that and not being wet!

my address

Hello to all,

I wanted to simply post my contact information. So here it is:
Cl Latassa 23 2B
Duplicado
50009 Zaragoza
Zaragoza,Spain
Write me a letter and you can count on getting one back!

Cafe con leche

Cafe con leche

Today had its ups and downs. I spent most of the morning on a long walk around a huge park close to my apartment and I just kept on walking for most of the morning. This city is really beautiful and I love the fact that they have so many sidewalk cafes, where you can just sit down and have some coffee. They are a great place to read and take in the day.

and so it begins

My room (top)
Madrid (bottom)


I am here.

Tonight will be my first night in my own room. Although I was going to be staying in the international dorms, I will actually be staying in an apartment with a German guy and two French girls. We had our first dinner tonight and I must say, I did not represent America very well or maybe my lack of cooking skills represents the US very well. Nonetheless, all I had to offer was a grilled cheese sandwich and a crappy salid. Anyway, it was a lot of fun and I think they will be a pleasure to live with.

I have been in Zaragoza for two full days and it has proven to be very interesting. I thankfully had a student from the University meet me at the train station. His name was Hector and he has been a great blessing to me una salvavida as they say here. I spent the last two days with his family and his mother can cook some food incredible food! It was so much fun and I enjoyed some great conversation with them. Most of the time we would all have a good laugh when I would say something incorrect or some other linguistic mishap would occur.

All in all, I could not be more content, I have a place to live, food to eat, new people to meet and a huge country to explore! This is no doubt an very different country that the US, people here seem to be rather put off by religion as a whole and I guess I understand why (in part). There is so much to learn and I am rather opinionated when it comes to particular issues, so I am taking some time to just be quite and listen. Well, I have had very little time to read so I am going to do that. More blogging is on the way.

The BBQ is over, my bags are packed and my eyes are red (from being tired, don't get any ideas). Every time I prepare to leave the country I end up staying up late. I don' t know why, it just happens. Work that should take an hour takes me three.
My grand father told me one day, that if I ever had more that a half dozen good friends at any given time in my life, that I should count myself a lucky man. I am a lucky man and I am so thankful for those who I call friends. This post will be another short one, but its better than nothing. Time to pack up the rest of my room.

Packing is not fun

I have not posted in a long time and I think it is about to start the blogging train up. In six days I will be in Spain. My room is a good representation of how I feel, so I will leave it at that.

Not only am I getting ready for my trip, but my parents are moving to another house, so I get to pack up my room, O-boy.

Note: my posts will get more interesting, but I was playing around with the picture settings and decided to post.

on humility

An old Franciscan understood the theocentric character of genuine humility and offered this counsel:

“If you feel the call of the spirit, then be holy with all your soul, with all your heart, and with all your strength. If however, because of human weakness, you cannot be holy, then be perfect with all your soul, with all your heart, and with all your strength.
But if you cannot be perfect because of the vanity of your life, then be good with all your soul…Yet, If you cannot be good because of the trickery of the evil One, then be wise with all your soul…
If, in the end, you can neither be holy, nor perfect, nor good, nor wise because of the weight of your sins, then carry this weight before God and surrender your life to his divine mercy.
If you do this, without bitterness, with all humility, and with a joyous spirit due to the tenderness of a God who loves the sinful and ungrateful, then you will begin to feel what it is to be wise, you will learn what it is to be good, you will slowly aspire to be perfect, and finally you will long to be holy”


An exert from “Ruthless Trust” by Brennan Manning

syncretism

Main Entry: syn·cre·tism Pronunciation: 'si[ng]-kr&-"ti-z&m, 'sin-Function: nounEtymology: New Latin syncretismus, from Greek synkrEtismos federation of Cretan cities, from syn- + KrEt-, KrEs Cretan1 : the combination of different forms of belief or practice2 : the fusion of two or more orig. different inflectional forms


You tell me to trust, yet instruct me to invest
You say to live by the spirit, but to always plan ahead

How does this work? Recently I have been thinking about what ‘Trust’ means and more importantly what it looks like to trust in the one who we clam to believe in. I come from an upper middle class family and we have always had more that what we need. There has never been a day that I have not had food in my stomach or a roof over my head and I am indeed thankful for that.
I am getting older and the reality of this is starting to set in. The mentality of “I am going to live forever and I am going to do something incredible with my life” is starting to come to perdition. What am I going to be about? What does the God desire of me in my short time in this life? The answers to these questions I do not know, but there is something within me that is troubled.
I have often found myself examining my faith, ideals and practices with a great amount of skepticisms. It is this reason I have introduced the word syncretism. In my time in Bolivia I had a unique opportunity to see the mixing of belief very clearly. Bolivia would say they are about 60% Roman Catholic, but there is a unique twist. Because of a lack of clergy over the past 100 or more years there has been a mixing with the Incan beliefs and tradition and with the Catholic beliefs. This, by definition would be syncretism because they are mixing two different believes and making them into one big jumbled mess (in my opinion).
It was clear for me to see this while I was in Bolivia, but as of late I have wondered about the syncretism with me. There are times when I wonder if it is more difficult to see because the thing that we are mixing is something that we love. (Which make since because if we did not value you it we would not care to mix with it) What if what Christians in this country are mixing the teaching of Christ with other ideas that are not his, or maybe even directly contrary, but we accept them because we don’t know any better. What if we are not called to a comfortable life? What if following Jesus indeed meant that we would love the “least of these”? In America we do all that is within our powers to keep ourselves safe. We buy insurance, we live in the “nice” part of town, we make sure that tithing is not going to interrupt our purchase of new clothing. I don’t know. I don’t understand how this works.

Do you?

no subject

“For, as I have often told you before and now say again even with tears, many live as enemies to the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is their shame. Their mind is on earthly things”
Philippians 3:18-19

“When Jesus Christ revels himself through the gospel, which is active and creative, he calls for a spontaneous response. His message is not a reassurance to keep right on doing what we’ve been doing, but writes Edward O’Connor, ‘a summons to the labor of eliminating from our lives, faithfully and perseveringly, everything in us that is opposed to the work and will of his Holy Spirit for us.”
Brennan Manning

I bought another Brennan Manning book a few weeks ago and started reading it this past week. He keeps me from becoming so cerebral in my pursuit for truth. There are indeed some things such as predestination/free will, creation/evolution, literal/ liberal interpretation of the scriptures and other doctrinal issues that are difficult for me to understand (I can thank Paul for that). But, basic message of Jesus is rather simple, “come to me and die, so that I can give you life. Trust me, serve me, honor me and embrace my love. Love the unloved, feed the hungry and give sight to the blind. Build my kingdom and don’t forget that it is I who is working through you.”

The Root of Hesitation

As my little black Bible sits on my desk I cannot help but think of the complexities that lie within it. When I was a child, I was taught the Bible stories, growing older I listen to the sermons, lectures and devotionals. The words and stories of the bible have surrounded me for all my life and for this I am thankful (I think). However, this book has also caused me a great deal of pain! Its words have been the tool of division within my family, the teachings the center of heated debate and for this reason I fear the words of this book.

I hold a certain amount of reservation when reading the scriptures. How are we to read the words of Paul, Peter, Moses, David and many others? As I read more about history, some things begin to click. Yet, the study of history only opens my eyes to the reality that I don’t know crap! Just when you think that a particular road is coming to a close, I discover a bunch of other things that I don’t know. It is all very overwhelming but at the same time I love it.

There is fear within me, a good fear, one that pushes me to continually seek understanding. This desire stems from seeing and hearing the message of Jesus distorted in so many ways, that I hardly know what to think. More importantly, I have seen the hurt that good intentioned laymen have inflected upon those outside their theological/doctoral or moral views. I do not want to be the cause of another person turning from Jesus because of the Church.

Is there a better way? Or is this what happens when you decided to believe something that clams to be the truth?
Note: The “something” is NOT the bible, rather Jesus Christ

Aristotle... I think he was on to something!

“Aristotle held that there are three forms of happiness. The first form of happiness is a life of pleasure and enjoyment. The second form of happiness is a life as a free and responsible citizen. The third form of happiness is a life as thinking and philosopher. Aristotle then emphasized that all three criteria must be present at the same time for man to find happiness and fulfillment. He rejected all forms of imbalance. Had he lived today he might have said that a person who only develops his body lives a life that is just as unbalanced as someone who only uses his head. Both extremes are an expression of a warped way of life.” Sophie’s World

Guilty as charged. As I reflect on the past few months of this semester here at school, the truth in Aristotle’s statement is profound. I often find myself on one side of the extremist spectrum or the other. Sometimes, my focus is personal pleasure, other times it is fraudulent intellectualism; other times I thrive on emotional stimulation while other times I attempt a rational understanding of life. Not to mention that in the midst of all theses things I often neglect social responsibilities. Awwww life, it’s a trip!

I know that nobody reads this blog at the moment, but there is some great conversation going on over at liquidthinking.org so you should check it out.

What if Jesus did not rise from the dead?

Over the past week or so I have been thinking about this question. I have been living a bit too much in my head. I desire to understand my faith from a none emotional perspective, but rather from a rational point of view.
How does the divinity of Jesus affect who I am, what I believe and the way in which I should live?

If Jesus was not divine and therefore did not rise from the dead, then he is at best a good teacher and another example of how we ought to live. We might put him in a list with Gandhi and other people who have lived extraordinary lives.

In the first century there are records of other rabies who clamed messiahship and who most likely had a number of disciples. But, ultimately they died and their followers dispersed. (I must confess that my knowledge of this is limited to a few books primarily “A Brief Introduction of the New Testament”) Why did anyone take the time to record the life and teachings of Jesus? I find it interesting to look at the volume of literature that is recorded about this Teacher from Nazareth. If Jesus’ disciples did not see Jesus after he was executed and yet they still devoted the remainder of their lives to his cause, I would say they were loony. Those men were either seriously brainwashed or believed in something that was real and ultimately worth dying for.

Are these the only men/women to die for something they believed in? No. Will they be the last? Doubtful. But, I think there is a difference between Jesus’ disciples and other martyrs. The disciples were starting something new; they were not scared into following Jesus or pressured by a religious group or the government. The followers of Jesus believed in something radical and I believe that thing was the risen Christ Jesus.

the road ahead

I have a few things in store!

• Spending some time with my brother in Spain this summer
• Studying in Zaragoza, Spain for the 06/07 school year
• Studying Spanish
• Taking on new adventures in my life.

The coming year is going to be an interesting one. I feel a bit scared, but mostly excited. At the moment I am trying to make the most out of my time here at Oklahoma State.

I could try and recount where I have been, but I would rather just write about where I am now.

Faith.

For the past year I have been in an interesting stage with my personal faith. There have been times where I feel confident, other times weak and full of doubt. One of my friends once told me that "if I can't question God and find him to be true, then I don't want to follow him at all". After hearing this, I felt pleased. My questions should not be feared, but rather embraced, and that is what I decided to do.

I am still in the midst of searching and I often feel like I am in the midst of a maze. Much of my searching has become an intellectual pursuit to understand Jesus and his role in my life in the world. One of the most frustrating this is the lack of feeling within my life. In some ways, I feel like my heart is dying and that is not a good thing.

Is this progress?