Suck the Marrow

I read the teaser for a book on my desk the other day that stated something that should scare the fool out of you. It said that sociologist state that even the most introverted recluse affects 10k folks in the average life span. 10k? That's hard to imagine.

My only basis for comparison are the numbers for our hits on dw & this page. dw = 5,524 nm = 1,914

I know that these are paltry, but when I consider that these represent people who may be influenced or led astray by what I've written or endorsed, it scares me somewhat. To look at the stats and see that people from around the world are able to look into my head & hopefully my heart can be overwhelming at times. This is definitely NOT my comfort zone, but I feel that it's where I'm supposed to be...where I'm called.

I thought that raising 4 kids & keeping a hot wife happy would be plenty of liability for anybody, but apparently not for me. Nooooo, I seem to never be able to do things the easy way. Oh well, I've always heard that anything worth doing is never easy, so I guess we'll just have to test this proof as we go.

So how 'bout you? You tired of a life of leisure & safety yet? A life unexamined & unexplored? A life with little liability & responsibility?

What do you want the 10k+ people behind the curtain of existence to say when we all get to listen? When you have to give an account for the things you've said or done or haven't said or should've done?

The glory of God is man fully alive and the vision of God is the life of man.

--St. Iraneous

Dare to be fully alive and God's vision. Suck the marrow from this existence and leave no question to where you're passion lies. Abandon the security of your safety for His glory alone.

You'll never regret it...

On the way to work tonite I heard a song that I hadn't in a while. A fancied it quite a bit when it 1st came out & enjoyed the ride as those memories associated with this little diddy ran through my soul for old times sake. This time it played was different than the times before when I sung along with the chorus. I don't mean that the song was different, but I that am.

I'd been thinking a lot about love recently and how it's revealed or not in our lifes. There are so many different ways that love is displayed, that it took me a while to discover that what I originally thought was love was not & where I thought love lacked it actually abounded. This wasn't love's fault, but rather mine for being narrow-minded and not willing to think critically.



The song was If You Could Only See by Tonic & I'm not sure if you're familiar with it, but the chorus looks like this:

If you could only see the way she loves me
Then maybe you would understand
Why I feel this way about our love
And what I must do
If you could only see how blue her eyes can be when she says
When she says she loves me

The big difference when I hear this now is that where once I thought of a love based on a human desire for another and how we interpret the relational aspects of it, I see a love based on a human desire for Love and how we interpret the relational aspects of it. I can't help but continue to wonder how we can have so many who claim to love Love & have just about as many different perspectives as to how this Love is to be displayed in 1's life. Or better yet, why some have such an issue with the way another acts in relation to this Love.

It happens on both ends of the spectrum and it seems that there remain very few that aren't critical when it comes to this Love affair. Some are critical, including me from time to time, of those in that sappy kind of reaction to Love. Some get offended by those they consider to be disrespectful of

Perscpicacity

I've always heard & thought that we were to be a people of discernment. That we were to develop a filter of rock solid belief through which we run everything. I've just come to realize that while that last sentence is definitely true, the 1st sentence is where we've really missed the point.

While we should be running our perceptions through the ringer that is our proper worldview, I find that we're caught aiming the gun of discernment at the wrong target. The target is fixed & therefore whatever metaphor we use for the act of discernment should be also.

You see, lately I've been thinking a lot about these fallacies of distinction when it comes to the things of this world & what we'd like to think of as not being of this world. A very false dichotomy exists between what many would call sacred and secular. I've heard it said that there is nothing secular save for sin & I'm just now getting to the point to where I know this in my heart to be true.

This brings me to the point of all of this. Our workings of discernment are not to be turned outward towards a world that we perceive as either sacred or secular, but rather inward at the very organ that should be cognizant in the realization for the basis of belief in the first place. It's the very thing that gives rise to & maintains physical life, but is also the fundamental element to our spiritual one as well.

"This is the brand-new covenant that I will make with Israel when the time comes. I will put my law within them--write it on their hearts!-and be their God. And they will be my people.

Jeremiah 31:33

I spent so much effort on trying to discern the sacredness or secularness of so many things in/of the world that it's left me nothing but confused. I've finally come to the understanding that I've been hoodwinked. All the arguments of abstinence or indulgence have lead me to false conclusions by journeying the wrong paths.

I've wrongly sought to count the measure of such things, when all along the answer was within. The very analytical approach of discernment was meant for my heart, that holds my true convictions from above as to whether or not I was to indulge or abstain. I've agonized, but in the wrong way & over the wrong thing(s).


I'll give you a new heart, put a new spirit in you. I'll remove the stone heart from your body and replace it with a heart that's God-willed, not self-willed.

Ezekiel 36:26

I'm afraid that God-given discernment has been wasted over so many things that He never intended. Oh that we would focus so keenly on the inward matters as we have so wrongly on the outer. Let us right our aim.

Oh for the sake of Providential perscpicacity...

KOTH: Pilot - #1

This is the 1st in an ongoing series of Wednesday nite bible studies based on the animated hit King of the Hill. The attempt is to develop & hone the fine lens of discernment with which we are to experience all of life. If we are to truly live, than we must come to a place where all the talk of theory ends & incarnational living begins. This is our hope & our prayer as we begin this arduous task.

Why KOTH?

Well, why not? I firmly believe that nature doesn't end at the leafy green stalks of grass of my front lawn or the rays of sun light that invade my modest home.

By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can't see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being. So nobody has a good excuse.

What last longer, a good sermon or a good story?

All Jesus did that day was tell stories--a long storytelling afternoon.




Pilot - #1 (rank #15) 1/12/97

The pilot of King of the Hill introduces us to the town of Arlen, Texas, and the life of propane salesman Hank Hill. Hank spends much of his time standing in the alley outside his house, drinking beer with his three old friends: Dale Gribble, a conspiracy theorist who never notices that his wife Nancy is having an affair with her "healer" John Redcorn (or that his son Joseph looks a lot like Redcorn); Bill Dauterive, a divorced army barber; and Boomhauer, a ladies' man of indeterminate employment and even more indeterminate speech. Hank lives with his wife Peggy, a substitute Spanish teacher at Tom Landry Middle School; his son Bobby, who seems to like comedy records better than sports; Peggy's niece Luanne, an aspiring beautician; and his dog Ladybird, a bloodhound whose mother tracked down James Earl Ray.

When Bobby gets hit in the eye with a baseball, the resulting black eye causes a social worker to mistakenly believe that Hank is abusing his son. Meanwhile, Luanne moves in with Hank and Peggy after her mother is arrested for stabbing her father with a fork, and Hank tries to fix his truck.

Quotes:

Dale: I know what's wrong with your truck, Hank. It's a Ford. Know what Ford stands for, don'cha? "Fix it again, Tony." Hank: Dale, that's a Fiat.

(Bobby smashes the fence with a baseball bat) Hank: BOBBY! (Sees that neighbors are watching) er... PLEASE RESPECT THAT FENCE'S RIGHT TO......BE A FENCE!

(On the topic of global warming) Dale: We'll see what Butros Butros Gali Gali thinks about that, we'll grow oranges in Alaska.

(on Dale's disbelief of global warming) Hank: Dale, you giblet-head! This is Texas! It's 110 degrees in the shade, and if it gets one degree hotter, I'm gonna kick your ass!

Peggy: We would have had more children, but Hank has a narrow urethra.
Hank: Peggy!
Peggy: What?
Hank: He asked us how many children we had, he didn't ask you about my glands!

Analysis:

The prevailing theme in the pilot, as well as for most of KOTH episodes, is the overwhelming theme of understating the obvious. Hank reaches his boiling point when threatened with the very real possibility of Bobby being taken away from him. Even through all of this he finds every other way to state his true feelings for his son rather than to tell him verbally. After all, Hank's a man of action & few words & it does nothing to affirm his love for Bobby. Hank would have made a terrible psalmist.

He eventually breaks down & is able to finally tell Bobby that he's his boy & that everything else has eventually disappointed him, but never him. Sounds a lot like the love of another father I know...

The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in his hands.

For he received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

We would be well served to study the love that the ultimate Father had/has for his son & not only act upon it in our own lives making it reality, but speaking this love into another's reality also:

I speak of your faithfulness and salvation. I do not conceal your love and your truth from the great assembly.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ.

Hank is no Jesus, but if we work together, I know that it is inevitable to find truth there.

Location

I read a poem not to long ago that I can't remember word for word now, but I'm going to try and share the jest of it with you...

Some choose to live their lives within the steeple's shadow
Or within earshot of the church's bell

I would rather run a rescue shop
And do it within a yard of hell

There is no doubt in my mind that this is where God has called me to set up shop. He's growing those around me to help in the venture and placing others in my life also. I can hardly wrap my mind around this whole thing, but I know that it feels amazing.

We are by no means equipped to do this work and this is probably the most terrifying aspect of it all. We lean on each other and ultimately on Him to prop us up and keep our heads above water at times. I can honestly say that I've never felt more alive, vibrant & free than I do right now. I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm loving/hating every minute of it.

We've created a quasi-community in cyber space, and the thing that blows my mind is that it works. I know that it shouldn't, but it does. I know that it's artificial, sad & lame, but I also know that it's never been more real and exciting.

I don't feel that I can go on without blowing a little sunshine up some dark places, so here goes...

To my folks back home in Natchitoches...you've always supported me, even when I was just an idiot frat boy who only wanted to make it to the next beer bust...you loved me...when I crashed my car & lied about it and you knew...you loved me...when I moved away and crushed my mom's heart and watched as fountains sprung from her eyes...you loved me...when I told you about this idiotic thing called deathway, you encouraged me and got others to do the same...unbelievable...

To my peeps here @ 4461...you've done nothing but been there and continue to...you're the biggest reason for everything that I do outside of JC...my words pale in comparison to the way my heart flips right now just thinking about you & how amazing you all are...I can't tell where ya'll start & I begin...we're a seamless garment...bound for & together for eternity & nothing will ever come between us...there simply are no words here...amazing...

To Josh...you've been there from the beginning...& still you remain...hard to imagine...you've grown by such leaps, that I don't even know if I could pick your old self out of a line-up...you continue to pick me up & push me on...I only think of how far I can go, so that you can stand on my shoulders to reach where I never dreamed...I weep at your potential, not being able to fathom the possibilities...

To Philip...another mainstay & originator...we share this road together/separately & none of this is possible without you...your creativity blows my mind and inspires my soul...

To Rick...I would think this to be the most improbable relationship...this simply does not happen in the real world...you force me to sin, because I covet your words & your heart...I know that I'll see you 1 day & can't wait for it to come...just the thought of your existence in the same world as me brings a smile to my face & warms my soul...

To Jeff...our similarities almost wants me to rethink my beliefs on reincarnation...I've only talked to you twice on the phone, but it feels as if I've known you for years...your honesty & authenticity is like a breath of fresh air...timing is the only thing that's kept our paths from crossing, but I can't help but think that we'll be teaming together soon...this scares the hell out of me & gets me psyched beyond belief...

To Jason...you've come along & taken us to a whole other level...I told your mom that you were the guy that we've been looking for & it's been dead on...my heart breaks for you when you're down & I honestly wish that I could take some of that from you, but I know that it's to serve some unfathomable purpose to come...still doesn't stop it from sucking...none of what we've experienced over the last several weeks happens without you...NONE OF IT!!!...I can't say that enough...

To the rest of our dw bloggers...I've learned from each of you and look forward to more...my only regret now is that we're getting to the point where I can't keep up with everybody all the time...may we continue to strive to fulfill the law of Christ by carrying each other along this Way...

I love all you guys more than you could possibly ever know.

Anybody up to visit our new shop?

location...location...location...

Water's Fine

We had a home game Saturday night. Not too many on our team decided to show. I'm not sure why either. We're commissioned for competition. This was one in our own backyard. This should have been a no-brainer.

It wasn't.

We played anyway. The game has a way of continuing on without you regardless of your awareness of it or not, or whether you decide to participate or not. The game is funny that way.

It was a friendly a good-natured contest, that turned out to be more test than con. I was conned earlier in the week which made me weak and wanting to be a no-show myself...but, I know that I'd never be able to look at myself in the mirror if I were to choose the coward's path.

"I'm not equipped for that type of game" some said or "that's just not my style of play"...

BULLSHIT!

Are we in the game or not? Those called are always equipped...not the other way around...

I'm tired of lame excuses and better yet lame players, that aren't players at all. We are to engage the arena with ferocity and reckless abandon and I for one intend to do so until I breathe my last. I've been found cowering in the locker room too many times to let that happen again.

My gear is strapped and ready to go...laced up tight...head's on a swivel...

Opportunity threatens to drown the relentlessly ignorant.

I say let 'er flood...

Coach is teaching those of us willing how to swim...

Ya'll dive on in...

The water's fine...

Anti-Precision

I must preface the following for those who don't know me personally. I've always been a very analytical person. My living is made on my ability to be very precise...methodical even.

This has always been a comfort to me in a lot of ways. Knowing the measure. Faith in precision.

My life now mirrors none of this. Absolutely not one bit. I struggle at times, but ultimately I'm cool with it.

Life, like faith, has nothing to do with precision or with the very analytical measure of things. This is something that we've all got to come to grips with. It's been a very arduous thing for me, but I think that I'm getting there.

Everything is relational at it's very essence. One of my friends would say that this is primal, and he's probably right. If this is right, than I'm never further from home than when I rely on precision and the sum of equation.

Amy & I are living proof of this very essence sans methodology. We don't exchange gifts for Christmas or birthdays. We don't try to impress others with our dress. We don't try to show off by getting our kids the latest, greatest, can't live without toy. We don't do or say a lot of things that some would think to be either the key to happiness or the fruit there of.

You could argue that our very unmethodical ways are a methodology of sorts, and I guess that you'd be right. All I know is that God's blessed this poor old fool beyond anything that he could ever imagine or deserve.

So while I wrestle with those great paradoxes of faith, such as how to fit 4 kids into 3 bedrooms, I've come to a point where I've got to lose faith. The faith in the analytical and precision. It kills.

Having faith that is active and alive is being cool with the notion of a God who can be very precise, yet deals with us in ways that seldom resemble as such. I often think that my faith is a 5lb bag that tries to contain 10lbs of stuff. Anti-precision at best.

Paradox.

Contradiction.

I guess I'm cool with that...yep.

How much/How far?

I came across this article & thought of our current situation...

If you've got the time, check it out & let me know what you think...

How much or how far is too far in our encouters with the world, all the while remaining seperate of it?

The responses to the article are what really interest me & I'd like to know yours as well...

I value your time as well as your opinions...

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/article.php?sid=5772

Thanks...

Atheists into Believers

This weekend will tell. Can we as christians just be and not worry about saving the "lost", as if we have the power to save? Can we co-exist, in our own house, with those dying without a Savior present, and love them unconditionally? with no hidden agendas? no bait and switch?

I'd like to think so. It still scares the hell out of me. Maybe this just proves that this is right.

We're inviting the world into our church house. I can't help but think that this is long over due. Do we really want more like us there? Is that our mission? What church needs more christians in it?

Please pray for us and Saturday night. I feel that I'm moving from theory to practical application. Maybe that's why I'm scared. I feel torn between two worlds...two cultures...

Had to break...Kayne just won the grammy...

I ain't here to argue about his facial features
Or here to convert atheists into believers
I'm just trying to say the way school need teachers
The way Kathie Lee needed Regis that's the way ya'll need Jesus

What else can we do...?

Re-Tread

I came across this article re-tread that relevant magazine decided to attach to there latest 850 words...

I thought that some may find it interesting...

they actually spell the title and my name right this time...

here it be...

http://relevantmagazine.com/article.php?sid=5704

Humbly Swagger

Most people who accept the label "conservative Christian," or its synonyms, spend too much time throwing stones at the cultural citadels and too little acquiring and developing the skills and knowledge to allow them to compete in the ideological and cultural arena.

--Cal Thomas

Every time that I go into our local Best Buy store I think about the pitiful little section of music that is secluded in the corner, out of the way and intentionally placed for the ignorant consumer. Why is this? Most of the discs found here should be able to find their stylistic equivalents out there on the main floor, but would seem to rather remain segregated.

I've lived my life this way. Segregated. Safe. Irrelevant.

No longer.

I want my life, my work, my moral fiber measured against the world and those in it. I want to work harder, listen more intently, care crushingly, love longingly to make people ask why. Why is this guy so obsessed with life? How can he be so strangely unique and be so persistently passionate? What the hell is wrong with this guy?

I want all these things to show what a little Tony Chachere's can do for a good ole' ribeye. I want all of this to see how far a beam of light can cut through the darkness that's never experienced illumination.

I really long for this apparent mania to show that this shell, that I call myself, is by a large a void. To show how the Two Broken Hands can gird this decaying carcass and fill it with Providence. Maybe the only glimpse that some will get to see.

I've dallied to long within the ivory tower. It's high time to see where I measure up. I long to boast.

To boast through the cross through which I've been crucified to this world and the world crucified to me. I'm a paradox. I want to humbly swagger through life with lowly arrogance that inspires. I want such emptiness as to there could be no question as to the fullness I have in Him.

Our life's are not called to be lived in safety. Our life's are not even our own. Get the hell out there.

Who's with me?

Straps

RM: Did you ever see him cry?

AS: When he was about 10 years old, Tupac had been running to catch a ball and he ran square into one of the New York cement park benches. I took him to the hospital and when it was our turn they got straps and they're about to strap him in. I said, "Okay, have you spoken to him to explain what you're about to do? He's a human being, explain it to him what you're about to do and maybe you won't need those straps." Tupac could be brought to calmness by speaking to him in a rational way. One day he went to the dentist and it was the same thing. Tupac said, "Can you give me a mirror? I need to see what you're doing." As long as he could see what he was doin', he really was fine.

I can't get this interview out of my head. If we really love people, our children or whoever, don't we owe it to them to speak rationally to them and show them what He's doing, rather than bring in the straps and try to go to work on them? Maybe by treating them with all the love and respect that He has for them, we won't need those straps.

If we could but give them a mirror, that is our lives, they could see His unique handiwork and desire to feel fine also.

Can you give me a mirror?

Then Comes the Wind

I took the kids out to fly a kite for the first time the other day. It first seemed like a reasonable proposition that later proved otherwise. The wind that once was earlier that day, became no more and left us alone with gravity laden nylon, sticks and string.

At first the kids were real troopers. I showed them how to run with the kite, allowing for just enough string to have it "fly" immediately behind them. As soon as they stopped however, the once airborne diamond nose-dived into the turf.

It wasn't long of this that found me trying to console my little ones and reassure them that the wind would blow once again and there was no need to ruin what had been a good day up to that point. Their disgust was evident as Cam stomped his tiny spool of twine into the dust and Cassi just wailed.

It's not much fun flying a kite when you have to run it constantly. The build up of lactic acid drives this point home in even the most boundless of legs. Sometimes we have to run for a while if we ever want to get the blasted thing of the ground.

Then comes the wind. It lifts once grounded wings and the pitiful piece of nylon and string that seemed destined for yard art soars into the heavens. Then comes the secret of letting out line and loosing the appearance of control.

I've felt as if I've run with dw like my kids did with their kites. It looked as if the wind was never going to blow through this thing. I've never wanted my hands on this thing and I hope that I haven't deceived myself.

The time has come. The winds are here. It's time to let out the string. I want to watch her soar. If they have, may my hands never touch nylon again.

Santa's Dead

Santa's dead & how do I tell my son
Santa's dead & how do I get him to feel sorry for the wrong that he's done

How am I to motivate him to do what's right
If he knows that Santa's dead and won't come during the night

If I don't have guilt to hinder the bad and the good motivate
How can I expect him not to turn into a total reprobate

If the nebulous sky fairy doesn't exist to bless the good and blast the bad
How will my little guy know when to feel good or when to feel sad

Could it be that I'm to teach of the Way
Tell him of the Savior that was crushed that day

How he bled and died
Just so He could come and dine inside

That he can't live by the rules
No matter how hard he tries

No! Don't do it the voices of wisdom say
He can't handle freedom or liberty and you'll just pave the way

The way to loose living, a kid gone wild
Give him meaningless standards, patronize the child

I just can't do it, I just can't see
How I can tell him of Him without the liberty

I'll just have to trust in the One who knows best
Allowing him to lead and to guide in spite of these pseudo tests

So that's my decision and it's finally straight in my head
I've got to tell them the truth...that Santa's really dead

Criminal Dignity

At this moment, I can think of nothing more embarrassing. This isn't supposed to happen to my kids. My clean, little, pure, innocent ones weren't destined for this. I mean, they're MY KIDS!! What the hell is wrong with this world? I even hesitate to type the rest of this post.

We first noticed them on Wednesday at the grocery store. Just an anomaly I told myself. Surely this couldn't be what my head was trying to tell my heart that it was. Not my little P girl.

But it was.

Lice.

We treated her that afternoon and went about all the steps to secure our home and our heads from the nast vermin, hell-bent on destroying our dignity as well as our pride. Loads of fun, if you've never had the pleasure. If you have, you know what I'm talking about and if you've yet to know the joy, consider yourself blessed.

Today was harder than the first. I had to go to the pre-school director and confess our uncleanliness. I would've felt better if I'd tried to eat my hat instead. It didn't help matters when she told me ours was their first case in the 7 years that the school had been in existence.

This too shall pass, but I can't help but think that our little problem here at home isn't indicative of a much greater problem. A problem of infestation. A problem that rots and kills from within.

Our father Adam was the first. I'm but another in a long line of carriers. They knit themselves together, attaching to my scalp and feast on my very blood, draining my will to carry on and to even live.

Good news is that I've found the cure.

Bad news is that it's effectiveness isn't fully realized on this side.

No matter how efficient I become at attacking and destroying the little critters, a remnant always remains and it isn't long before I'm scratching again. I comb and comb, but some knits continue to remain. This battle seems winnable by my own hands, but is merely an illusion.

The worst part is that my infestation drives me to secrecy. Instead of sharing the knowledge of an infected head to help others get the attention they need, I hide away. My pride doesn't allow me to divulge the very information that could save another who's supposed to be my brother. My dignity proves criminal when it prevents my aiding another that would benefit from my being stripped bare.

I want you to see the lice in my life. I don't want for you to have to suffer unnecessarily. Isn't it about time?

Last Stop: Emmaus

When the only difference between myself and the "unsaved" heathen is the camouflaged cleanliness of my speach, my life has become meaningless. When my black heart gives root to the attempts to find appeasement in my Father through my own pious righteousness, I am a clanging gong. When my standards supersede the satisfaction of the Savior, I am anti-Christ.

I've traveled the road to Emmaus for far too long. I've been burned by my bitter tears in the realization of all I've missed. I pity Cleopas. I am him.

Does your heart feel on fire from the journey. Open your eyes. Open your heart. He's there. He's always been there. Reasoning with you from the Books of Moses til now.

What say you? Will you wait for the bread broken visibly served up to you to decide? Recognize Him now! There's enough regret in this broken world. Don't allow yours to continue to mount.

His yolk is easy. Question yourself. Open the eyes of your heart. You'll see that He's been there all along. He's not what you think.

Become a proper slave. Truly be free. He's paid too high a price for your liberty.