Navy Boot Camp Tips

Trying this one out!

If you’ve been looking for a cause to join, an effort to support, or even a life philosophy to embrace, I may have found one for you. It’s quite ingenious. It’s called the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement. You may think I’m joking about such a cause actually existing, and I’m sure my tongue-in-cheek recruiting attempt didn’t help that any; however, the VHEM actually exists and is actively looking for new members.

I found this site as I was stumbling around the internet. StumbleUpon often offers some of the most abstract and bizarre glimpses into the jaded and twisted minds of other human beings. Sometimes it’s disturbing. Sometimes it is dark and sad. Sometimes, such as is the case with this site, it takes me deep into the the windy catacomb maze of my deepest thoughts and probes at the undefined aches I feel but cannot express.

I imagine myself sitting at a booth at a large convention. Hundreds of aisles lined with booths fill the acres of this huge building. Clumps of people steadily walk past my booth, talking amongst themselves and occasionally approaching my booth to ask a question or read a pamphlet. After a long, boring day I sit on a metal folding chair behind my table, lazily glancing at the Christian publications I’ve been promoting. And then my eyes drift across the aisle. I see a man behind a booth, smiling and handing out brochures. People look genuinely interested. They certainly appear receptive and open to the message. What does his booth read? VHEM? What’s that? I nonchalantly let my eyes probe deeper into the booth. I soon realize that they’re proposing that the human race should voluntarily cease from existing, merely by putting an abrupt stop to procreation. Why? To save the earth and everything else on it. It’s ludicrous. It’s sad. It’s… hopeless. It’s selfless?

I used to believe that the most selfless act I could do would be to willingly and intentionally snuff out my own life. It would relieve the burden that my existence placed upon my friends and family – people I claimed to love. If I truly loved them, I would remove the burden from them. This is before I realized that it is not my place to relieve the burden, but rather to bear other’s burdens. I would then cast my burdens upon God and allow Him to carry the heavy load, as He has told us to do. But at the time, and in the heat of the moment, I came very near to carrying out what I deemed a “selfless” act. I saw no conflict between selflessness and Christianity. Some of the most godly people I ever studied about were known for being selfless. It was an attribute of Christ that was both obvious and prevalent. And yet, selflessness isn’t enough. Whether I stay or go, or whether I purpose to support a cause to rid the earth of human life, my selflessness is misplaced if it derives itself from the wrong motive. Selflessness without Christ is still sin. And this is my first point. Selflessness without a Christ-centered purpose and motive is inherently flawed and utterly and hopelessly untethered. Quantity (how many distinct acts of selflessness) and quality (how pure and genuine the motive) are rendered virtually obsolete, and therefore have little, if any, real value, eternally speaking.

In the headlines just a day ago I read that a popular author hung himself at his home in southern California. Morbidly curious as to what this 46 year old looked like, I quickly googled his name and found a video of an interview with Charlie Rose. For a whole hour I watched the two exchange a mildly interesting dialog. Then, with little more than 4 minutes left in the entire program, the author started to speak about how popularity and fame were enormous let-downs for him. While many seem to ride the “high” of fame for much of their lives, he felt immediate disappointment. He wanted something that would satisfy, and fame, glory, and good reviews of his book did little to satisfy this urgent hunger. He had a “rough patch” that he speaks about briefly, then ends the interview by saying,

“I’m kind of open to suggestions about what one chases. There are real abstract ideas about what art can be and the redemptive quality of art, and kindness to animals, and all the clichés that we can invoke. But the people who most interest me now are people who are old and have sort-of been through a mid-life crisis. They tend to get weird because the normal incentives for getting out of bed don’t tend to apply anymore. I have not found any satisfactory new ones, but I’m not getting ready to jump off a building.” - David Foster Wallace

There was something in those final words that really captured me. While I wanted so badly for him to have seen Christ with his own eyes before his fateful decision, I couldn’t help but value, at least in part, the willingness to be openly vulnerable with millions of viewers. I think it a rare occurrence for someone to so widely open a window to their soul that, in most people, is typically shut, locked, and boarded up. His vulnerability was strangely endearing to me. Though the words were likely uttered from of a state of constant desperation and despair, his willingness to disclose his own struggles and search for truth were valuable to me.

William Cowper, an evangelical Christian poet and hymnodist, who shared a close mentor-like relationship with John Newton (author of Amazing Grace), struggled grievously with a severe depression and suicidal thoughts. This is an excerpt from The Hidden Smile of God by John Piper:

William Cowper, for those who, along the way, happened to take a course in eighteenth-century literature, is known as “the poet of a new religious revival” led by John Wesley and George Whitefield. His poetry and letters merited fifty pages in the anthology I studied in college.7 Among those who know him as a Christian poet, many do not know that William Cowper lived with bleak depression as a steady companion all his life, sometimes immobilized in despair, and repeatedly attempting suicide. In spite of this darkness, Cowper today is still touching the hearts of thousands who know nothing of him at all, simply because, in worship, they sing his hymns “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood,” “O for a Closer Walk with God,” and “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.” - pg.12 (This is an excellent book. It covers three incredible biographies. It’s relatively short, and you can read this book online. Click here to read the book now.)

It’s interesting to me when I hear Christians say, “Christians shouldn’t be depressed” or “you shouldn’t feel *this* way if you truly know Christ”. Basically, I believe that many, if not most, Christians tend to be grossly arrogant, ignorant, naïve, unrealistic, harsh, and even uncompassionate when it comes to approaching and dealing with fellow believers that struggle with the intense darkness of depression. They forget the countless biblical figures that struggled with it, as well as several well-appreciated, much-embraced Christian preachers, missionaries, and authors who also struggled with depression. I found a great blog entry about Christian depression. You can read it here.

It’s extremely attractive to me to find a Christian that is vulnerable. As some famous authors and Hollywood celebrities can spend their whole lives enjoying and thriving on their celebrity status (which David Foster Wallace found utterly empty and disappointing), I believe that Christians can ride a similar “high” when it comes to their relationship with God. In trying to play the part of a “good Christian”, they willfully neglect, ignore, overlook, and even cover up the things that make them look vulnerable, namely their sinful nature (selfishness). They try so hard not to be selfish, but it’s a losing game. It’s like a fish trying to avoid sucking in water for oxygen and instead simply trying to take in 100% oxygen concentration. I’m not making a excuse for sin, not at all. But I am saying that sin is something you are forever attached to, not something you do. Your sinful actions are a result of your sinful heart, which beats from a sinful nature.

So should we try not to be selfish? Absolutely. Obeying God honors Him. In fact, He says that if we love Him we will keep his commandments. But as we’re being selfish, do you think we can also be real, genuine, honest, open, and vulnerable about our true nature? Is it truly obedience to God if selflessness comes naturally (or even easily) to us? I contend that God especially values obedience in us when we find it difficult, not when we find it easy.

I guess this is why I draw towards those “screw up” Christians that never really get anything right. They try (and often work pretty darn hard!) to honor and glorify God, but they never feel like they’re succeeding at all. I think that about 98% of the Christians I know honestly feel like they’re doing a pretty good job. I, on the other hand, see something else…

I believe that love is selfless. I also believe, as C.S. Lewis wrote, that “to love at all is to be vulnerable”. So I guess you could say that I believe that being selfless is linked closely with personal vulnerability.

When a Christian can be true to themselves, I feel more comfortable around them. Why? Because we’re not judging each other. We’re not laying hot coals upon each other’s heads. Neither are we placing them upon ourselves. Grace abounds. Righteousness, in any form, is cause enough for celebration, because true righteousness exhibited genuinely in a fallen world such as this, and from a fallen creature such as myself, is strictly and solely the result of God’s direct and supernatural involvement, i.e. a miracle.

I get so sick to my stomach when Christians are more concerned with other Christians than they are for themselves. Surely they read my words and worry about my journey. Surely they feel that they’re doing well, even according to their church, pastor, elder, family and friends. They’re riding a Christian “high” that rarely dips into the sad, dark, discouraging state of their true self.

It’s interesting to see non-believers toting such prizes as “selflessness” and “vulnerability” when I look around and see little of that in the Christian realm. People are concerned with image. Christians care about the heart (so… deeper than just “image”), but ultimately they judge the heart by what they see (which defines “image”), even in their own lives. Much like Tinidril in Perelandra (by C.S. Lewis), we easily get caught up in the reflection or our own face.

One thing I greatly struggle with in “church” these days is the worship time. It has become so business-like. It lacks true intimacy. It lacks “ideal” circumstances for public vulnerability. That’s not what that time is intended for here in America. In America, worship time is intended to get most of the congregation singing to God and worshiping through music, unified in spirit through song. But how can I be unified with anyone if I feel like the majority of people are being fake, not being vulnerable, and are not being fair or gracious in their judgments of me if/when I choose to be vulnerable? In the end, it just becomes a bunch of songs that we sing together, individually trying to find that “zone” where we’re worshiping God with our hearts and not paying attention to anyone else or what anyone else thinks. Meanwhile, having become so disillusioned with corporate worship, I’ve been simply trying to ignore the copyright symbol on every digital slide the projector displays. Gee, 1 million other people are singing or mouthing these words today, too… how intimate. I’m sure glad we got that copyright symbol on there, so everyone knows that someone else “owns” this worship song that’s supposed to express my deepest and most vulnerable parts of my heart in worship to God.

Now, of course, much of what I’m revealing in my words could be easily criticized and shunned. I’m exposing a lot here, and I feel vulnerable even posting these simple thoughts. I know that I’m not right about everything, and I know that I’m often wrong in my views, perspectives, generalizations, etc. I make no claim that anything I’ve mentioned is truth. I merely back it up by saying that my words truly proceed from an aching and wounded heart. That which I utter will always be an honest reflection of the true nature of my deceitful and wicked heart. Be critical or contradictory if you choose, but I do submit my typical disclaimer here that I, in my finite mind and corrupt heart, can only give you me, and nothing more.

Show me a man that struggles deeply with obedience, and I will show you a man that feels, more than most people, that he needs grace, forgiveness, Christ. Show me a man who’s first reaction is a genuine, honest, and often sinful response, and yet loves God deeply, and I will show you, over time, a man who’s heart God is transforming in the deepest crevices of the heart. Show me someone who has lived in and been pulled from the deepest, darkest pits of despair and pain, and I will show you someone who loves God more deeply than ever before. Show me someone willing to sacrifice their own image for the greatness of God, and I will show you the salt of the earth.

A word of warning: This blog entry is not really “PC”. If the word “retarded” offends you, go ahead and skip this read.

A future President is praised for his heroism. His greatness. A man, greatly unknown to the world until a few short weeks ago, wins 8 golds at the Summer Olympics. Greatness. A chef, interviewed by Jay Leno a few nights ago, speaks of meeting the Queen of England and being voted the “best chef in England” for 12 consecutive years. Greatness. It seems that everywhere I look, people are succeeding with their ambitions. Forget the countless others that fall short. This is a time for greatness. It’s like it is wired into our brains - “do something with your life”. This “something” ominously hovers and lingers in our minds and hearts, probing and pushing us like an older brother sitting on his sibling and mercilessly tapping him on the head. We’re not sure what it looks like. As we look around, this “greatness” takes on many different forms for different people. Some are swimmers. Some are chefs. Some aspire to be, arguably, the most powerful individuals on the planet. And then there are people like us.

Just a few days ago I was looking at a picture that was taken over 15 years ago. It was a picture of a blond, skinny 9 year old with two elderly people. The boy was me. The elderly folks were my great-grandparents. I lay on my bed, looking at this picture, captivated by the deep mystery of age, generations, death, and, oddly enough, greatness. You see, I couldn’t remember my great-grandfather’s name. Half of me was embarrassed, the other half, mystified. How could I not know his name? Of course I know his name. It’s…. It’s… um. Darn. What is it? I only remember calling him “Grand-daddy”.

Unrecognizable tears started streaming down my cheeks. What they meant, I’m not sure. Where they came from was uncertain. What I did know in that moment was that they were tears of grief. I wasn’t grieving the death of my great-grandparents, nor my own forgetfulness… I guess I was grieving the blur of it all. The blur that we refer to as a “lifetime”. Many of us are given but a brief moment in our lives to do something great. In reality, few are given as many years as my great-grandparents had. And yet here I sit, and I can’t remember his name, much less recite to you the many things he did with his life. They came, they went, and somehow, they vanished. Like a single bone in a mass grave, the accomplishments and history of one man have been thrown in with the myriad of others before him and among him.

Finally the tears begin to make sense to me. Slowly the image becomes less and less blurry, like those Magic Eye pattern pictures that display a 3-D image when you look at them a certain way. I realize now that I’m grieving because I feel like I don’t have enough time.

Time for what? Greatness? Time to do something that I’ll be remembered by? Time to become the man I think I ought to be? Time to “figure things out”?

Look around us. People are dying. I see a family dealing with an extremely difficult situation where the man of the house is steadily approaching an “untimely” death. I remember Danny Scianna, a boy who I worked with in AWANA at my church, who died at the age of 11. I hear of car accidents, diseases, paralyzing injuries, and the list goes on… and I just can’t believe that we’re surrounded by all of this, and yet we still value the “greatness” that we see on TV. Something tells me we’re really quite confused, jaded, and tainted by our society. There’s something that we just don’t understand in Jesus’ exhortations.

Even in the church today, we’re so concerned with being “good Christians”. I grew up in a church that glorifies “Christian greatness”, whatever that is. I guess it’s someone who makes the most godly decisions, has the most wisdom, makes the fewest life-altering mistakes, can recite the most scripture, and is generally seen as a “beacon” of godliness and truth. We idolize people for this. Heck, I think many of us would dip ourselves in a smelly pile of shit if we thought the people in our church would view it as a humble and godly act. We’re so eager to be seen as godly. We ache to win the Oscar for best performance, happily appeasing the adoring audience. I’m not questioning the genuineness behind our motives. I think we really want to be genuine and real in our godliness, I do. But I think we have the wrong idea of what makes someone godly. We seem to rate spiritual maturity as we rate intelligence. There are some that are intellectually retarded, and then there are those of us that are “spiritually retarded”, meaning we don’t carry our Bible’s everywhere, don’t stand up in church to talk about how powerfully God worked in our life this week, and aren’t usually found raising our hands during worship time. Heck, most of the time we find it pretty hard to worship alongside other believers.

Frankly, I decided years ago that I wanted to become more “retarded” when it came to spiritual matters. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I have met so many mentally disabled people (intellectually speaking) that have such a bigger heart than the countless “intelligent” people I’ve come across. Why is it that I can get the approval of a retarded person, with a hug to boot, and yet I somehow value the approval of a more intelligent person more? Is life about intelligence? Should we not care more about loving one another than seeking our own “greatness” and widespread acknowledgment?

I firmly believe that there will be a great many mentally handicapped people in Heaven. I don’t think they’ll be made to be more like us. I think they’ll just become more like God intended them to be, without sin. Perfect. NOT necessarily more like us. Maybe they’ll even look the same (not exactly something we view as “perfection” in our society). Maybe they’ll think and talk the same (definitely not something we see much value in). One thing that I think will likely be close to the same, though, is their heart. I believe, as I think Randy Alcorn has also mentioned, that they may even be given great responsibilities in Heaven. I believe they will be greatly rewarded for their compassion, acceptance, and love. While it will be their faith that saves them, their rewards in these other areas will surely be in no short supply. I believe that, even in this life, we have much we can learn from them.

I don’t want “greatness” like we think of it. I don’t want to be known for my intelligence, nor my godliness. I don’t want to be the man that feels pressured to deliver a powerful sermon or exemplify “godliness” out of my own selfish ambition. I’d rather be retarded. I’d even rather be seen as “spiritually retarded” (stunted, needy, whatever). I’d rather be deeply humbled by my own realization that I’m a step below the cut, and yet have greater genuineness and a heart that truly needs God and depends upon His life-giving grace. I don’t want to give love and grace to people because I know I ought to. I want to give love and grace naturally and genuinely, and only as a result of God’s direct and intimate involvement in my heart. If my response ever be a godly one, let it be from God. If I ever give a wise reply or godly insight, let it be from God. Everything else, including everything I write in my blog, we can just as soon pass off for the “ramblings of a retarded guy” and we can all move on.

I feel that it’s only when we let our desires for “greatness” fade that we’ll truly allow God to begin working in the deepest, darkest corners of our hearts. All I really care about is giving 100% of me to God. I think it’ll cost me something. I think it’ll cost a lot, actually. Perhaps everything. Perhaps it’ll require me to become more retarded and lose the good opinions and praises from spiritual “elites”. Whatever be the cost, “greatness” included, let it be so. I have no problem casting these idols into the fire so that I may gain a deeper understanding of God’s heart.*

-I was listening to Chris Rice’s song, “Power of a Moment” (a good one), but now I think I’m gonna listen to those heathen Black Eyed Peas singing “Let’s Get Retarded”.

-On a lighter note, though keeping with the current theme, I found this video online tonight (I think I saw it years ago) and thought it was so uplifting and encouraging (and funny!) that I can’t help but share it. Enjoy!~ Please comment if you have thoughts or insights on anything!!!

 National Anthem Fenway Park

It was Disability Awareness day and the folks at Fenway did a lot of great things for kids with challenges..here is one who sang and when he got nervous the Fenway Faithful helped him out 

The world speeds by in a blur as I press my cheek up against the window. Nothing but the rhythmic sound of the wheels against the track. *click-clack* *click-clack* *click-clack*. Not a single person remains in the cabin with me. My present circumstance somehow mimics what’s going on inside my head… alone in my thoughts, speeding along in a train, unable to predict what is ahead, though confident that there is indeed a plan, a track, a definite and defined direction.

I cannot help but feel like I made a mistake. Maybe I should have gotten off several stations ago. Maybe there was something I could have done to get her to stay with me in my various travels. Now she’s on a different train with a different person. Moreover, she’s forever committed to remain in her state, while I wander the tracks, desperately looking for anything that resembles her. I cannot retrieve her. I cannot revive what she felt for me. I cannot hope for the destruction of a marriage that I so jealously look upon, bitter against the man that finally secured her heart. But I want to. And that’s the cold, harsh, embarrassing truth. It’s one more reason that makes me undeserving of her. It’s one more thing that makes it hurt so much more.

I remember she had mentioned once, while we were dating, that her ex had commented to her that he had been utterly unable to “find anything like her”. In a desperate attempt to praise this woman with this seemingly last breath of his very life and soul, I understood in that moment what a lucky man I was. Did this corrupt my mind, or merely serve to clarify the magnitude of my good fortune? In retrospect, I fear the words, which have haunted me for some time now, may now serve, metaphorically speaking, as the tip of the knife blade that broke off in my body when she left me. Words that were once spoken in grief by a man that realized the significance of his loss now echo from the canyon walls, years later, as I silently mouth them too.

Edward Leedskalnin comes to mind. The man was jilted by his 16-year-old fiancée Agnes Scuffs in Latvia, just one day before the wedding. He then left for America. Hoping to somehow impress Scuffs, he spent over 28 years building the Coral Castle, all the while refusing to allow anyone to view him while he worked. The grounds of Coral Castle consist of 1,100 tons of stones found in the forms of walls, carvings, furniture and a castle tower. It’s an incredible accomplishment, and one that Agnes never saw. Chances are good that she later got married in Latvia (probably in the midst of the construction of “her” castle).

I imagine that Edward would have been very grieved to hear news of her marriage, especially in the midst of his building. Here he was, trying his hardest to be a man worthy of her affection and love, acceptable and honorable for her to be considered “his”, and some rotter… some skunk comes in and sweeps her off her feet. Poor Edward. I cannot help but feel sympathy for his situation. Now, I don’t think Edward ever heard news of her marriage (alas, neither event, whether it be her marriage nor his finding out, were ever recorded), but I believe it would have been a catastrophic feeling of loss for him - possibly even so much so that it would induce severe illness and/or death.

I don’t know what it was about Agnes that stole Edward’s heart. I don’t know exactly what it is about *her* that stole my own heart. What I do know is that I cannot settle for less again. Now I’m not saying that anyone else I’ve dated is “bad” or “sub-standard”, but I am saying that they were no “Agnes” to me. You see, *she* is the one person in my life who I continue to grieve over. The one *desire* that I must lovingly hold beneath the water until it stops kicking and fighting, because I can no longer desire her.

Call it a mistake. Call it a failure. Call it what you will. The relationships that have transpired since this “tragic loss” have failed as well. In these subsequent relationships I’ve been everywhere from mildly interested to extremely sure, passionate, and committed. All were a learning experience (sometimes embarrassingly so), but none were so informative as my relationship (and break-up) with *her*. It is an event in my life that continues to teach me, inspire me, train me, and motivate me. It is a standard to which I feel I must now compare anything that lies ahead. It is a standard that will graciously permit me to build a beautiful coral castle and callously allow me to die alone upon the cold, hard coral surface of my failed efforts and hopes.

I’m glad she is happy. And I somehow feel joy for Agnes, as well. I also feel somewhat empowered and uplifted in that life is not about marriage, nor about “successes”. Life is about Christ, and life is about relationships, and I am learning so much about the nature of relationships, grace, and perseverance. ‘Tis no sad story of mine, but one of purpose, progress, and a future. We ought to adopt such an eternal perspective, yet also permit ourselves to feel things that we were designed to feel (such as romantic love, grief, etc.). We must be honest and true to those things that hinder us or empower us, yet also maintain a level head and continue to fix our eyes on the horizon and beyond.

I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone like *you*, but I’m so glad that I can release you as I exhale my next breath. I confidently and joyfully declare that life was never about “securing” *you*, and it never will be. Though I may feel deep regret and grief over a seemingly “missed opportunity” and/or failure on my/our part, I rest in the fact that life isn’t about MY coral castle, but in the coral castle that the Lover of my soul has so passionately and diligently built for me.

Edward Leedskalnin
August 10, 1887 – December 7, 1951

Looks like another semi-sleepless night for me. I have 8 hours of work tomorrow. This isn’t going to be fun. After lying in bed for the past 4 hours, trying to fall asleep, I’ve given up (temporarily) and aroused from my bed to try to vent and output some of my thoughts so as to process them and, thereby, gain a peace of mind sufficient to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye. No guarantee it’ll work, but it usually does.

Much of the things I’ve been learning and processing lately I simply cannot put into writing. Rather, it wouldn’t be proper to publicize it. This, naturally, creates a problem for me, as writing and publishing my thoughts bring me about as much peace of mind at night as a professional back massage does for my achy muscles. Instead they’ve been building up, churning in my brain, knawing at the tender parts of my spirit. I might be able to convey some of the concepts, but the finer details must be left unsaid.

Grace is in short supply.

My dad is pretty smart. I was talking to him tonight about a specific person who I casually referred to as “arrogant” and mentioning that he “can’t tell his head from his dick sometimes” (not very nice), after which I soon added that I, too, was like this, and that is why our relationship is an abrasive (and now “avoided”) one. My dad simply responded, “yeah, he doesn’t really give a lot of grace”. Ha. Wow. Simple. And so true. Perhaps this is exactly what I don’t like about that person. Perhaps it is also something I despise in myself. Grace is in short supply.

In weeks past I have come to realize, ever more than before, that healthy relationships are completely dependent on grace. Without grace, you can’t have love. Without grace, you have no “tomorrow” to step forward into. A relationship will literally disintegrate in your hands if you or the other person is unable or unwilling to give bountiful amounts of unquestioning, free, beautiful grace. As I’ve witnessed many relationships in my own life fade or end abruptly, I’ve been keenly interested in the cause. No doubt, much of the blame came back to me. Mistakes are numerous in Ripley’s life. God knows it’s a defining characteristic in me. But my need for grace and forgiveness have caused many ugly things to surface, and have brought to light an issue that is grossly disturbing to me. Mistakes don’t kill a relationship - the willful withholding of grace, whatever be the reason, does.

I was asked recently why I am so disinterested in getting into another romantic relationship. There are many reasons, for sure, but there is one that stands out among the rest at this time in my life, and I was able to identify it just this week: I don’t want to start another “rap sheet“. I don’t want my mistakes to be internally and eternally recorded by someone that thinks that “grace” somehow includes recording a personal history and saving it as ammunition for a later and more opportune date. Some of the most significant women in my life, save just one, still remember (in great detail) the awful things I have done against them (whether intentionally or, much to my dismay, mistakenly or unintentionally), while, simultaneously, most of the significant men in my life either don’t care to remember or intentionally choose not to put any negative value on it. It’s in the past. It’s gone. Let’s move on with our lives.

Now, I don’t want to make anyone mad. I certainly don’t want to come across like I’m “bashing” women. And, by all means, correct me if I’m wrong… I’ve spoken to several wise people, both men and women, older and younger, and they seem to agree with my conclusion: When men and women say, “I forgive you”, they often mean something entirely different. What I have come to learn from experience is that, for women, the words “I forgive you” mean “I can tolerate you now. I’m not going to be mad about this anymore, but I’m going to apply your mistake to your character and my view of you forever, and the next time you screw up I’ll try to be less shocked and surprised”. When men say it, it’s more like, “I’m going to willfully forget this ever happened. You’ve got a clean slate, and I accept your apology as long as I can throw it into the depths of the ocean along with my memory of the event”.

Of course, I can’t generalize. Not ALL women are like that, and certainly not all MEN are like that. I’ve merely noticed a trend. 99% of women I know have come across (to ME) in the way I described, whether directly or indirectly. Basically all men have come across the other way to me. I asked a very trustworthy (woman) friend of mine if she could think of ANY women that weren’t the way I described, and she was unable to name anyone for several minutes. As she sat there and racked her brain I could almost see smoke coming out of her ears. She wasn’t even willing to name herself as one. Then I asked her if she knew any men as I had described, and she rattled off names like it was no one’s business.

But it takes two to tango, does it not? There is surely a point at which men intentionally decide not to give grace anymore, and I fear this is when it is a last dodge effort to keep their head above water, when the inflicted wounds have started to fester and rot and maggots are practically gushing from the site of the wound. That’s what it felt like for me, anyway.

There have been two semi-recent cases where I have chosen to jump ship and abandon the relationships altogether. It simply seemed like a better option than remaining onboard and being burned alive. Being in a relationship where true grace is not present on both sides of the table is like being on a burning oil tanker. One way or another, you’re going to wind up in the cold, frigid water. Having remained onboard for some good amount of time in a few recent *fiery* relationships, and come out with the disfiguring scars I have now (not to mention my deep-set cynicism), I’ve decided it’s better to jump ship the moment you feel your partner (speaking to unmarried couples, of course) is unable to give you, much less reasonably understand the concept of, grace.

After the awful circumstances of the last significant “ship sinkings” of relationships in my life, I find that I am less and less able to give grace. I’m less willing to spend time with people. I’m less willing to talk with people. I’m less active in pursuing relationships and actively engaging in people’s life. I don’t feel that I’m doing this out of pure selfishness (though I can hear a few “goody Christians” quickly labeling that). I, personally, think it’s a little more complex than that. I feel that my ability to give grace has been tainted or jaded. A healing within my own heart must take place by the Master Surgeon. I cannot simply decide to mend myself, but I must put myself under the penetrating scalpel of my Physician. Basically, my inability to offer grace is causing me to withdraw and protect myself, also making me more aware of my own wounds, therefore somehow adding to the selfishness of my already selfish, sinful heart. What I want, desperately, is a genuinely overflowing source of grace within my heart.

I am thankful for one specific woman in my life. She has taught me more about grace than anyone I know. Why? Because I deserve it least of all from her, yet she would never admit it. I know, standing in her presence, that there is absolutely “no record of wrongs” with her. You know who you are, and I am forever thankful for giving me such a wonderful example and hope.

Grace is in short supply, people. Don’t be a statistic. Don’t be the person that denies someone grace because you feel personally wronged. YOU were bought with a great price, not because you were deserving, but because grace prevailed! If you are holding or remembering a mistake or wrong that someone did to you, you are being both prideful and lacking in grace. Grace is giving something that someone doesn’t deserve. You might be willing to forgive, but how many of you are truly willing to willfully forget and start tomorrow with a completely and utterly clean slate?

If you feel that you are sufficiently spreading grace to everyone you know, check again. Chances are pretty good you’re not God, and the limits of your grace *can* be seen by the naked eye (vs. God’s grace which extends far beyond the horizon). Grace is NOT something that comes naturally for you, and I would suspect that if you feel you have “no problem extending grace to people”, you’re not really giving real grace at all. At least not the kind that I’m talking about!

I think it not wrong to pray and ask for the ability to extend grace. I think it’s something you learn, but I also think it is a gift you are given. I believe it is an ability you acquire from God, as well as something that comes naturally from drawing closer to God in an honest and vulnerable state (as a sinful creature, not some holy, self-righteous Christian). Why don’t we pray for this more? What marvelous things might this do for our relationships if we learn to give a little more grace? What miracles will happen when we let everyone start with a clean slate? It’s not that simple? I think it is. But I don’t think it’s easy, and I don’t think it was ever an “easy” thing for Christ to offer grace to us.

White as snow, white as snow,
Though are sins were as scarlet,
Lord I know, Lord I know,
That I’m clean and forgiven,
By the power of Your blood,
By the wonder of your love,
By faith in you I know that I can be,
White as snow.

So I watched a video today that got me thinking… It’s actually a commercial for Schweppes. I’ve put it at the end of this blog, so you can watch it now, or you can watch it afterwards. Your choice.

What beauty may come and go in and through my lifetime? What dreams may fade so quickly, and blessings pass by like a breath? Our time here is short. So very short.

I cannot help but feel that we spend much of our lives in tomorrow. Our minds think towards tomorrow. Our hearts long for tomorrow. Our dreams must live in the tomorrow.

Life will pass by so quickly. While eternity in Heaven is something I long for, I truly feel that there is so much in this life that will really count, eternally speaking. Whether good or bad, the time we spend here on earth will impact our lives for billions of years to come. Should we not relish in the good? Should we not appreciate the bad? Like a paralyzed man lying on a hospital bed, wishing he could again feel his legs, even if all he would be able to feel at that moment is intense pain. The value of those things which impact our lives, regardless of the quality, is beyond measure. What do we give up every day by allowing ourselves to become stressed and impatient?

I’ve come to a point many times in my life, thus far, where I just have to take a day at a time. At first it was merely a way of saying, “I can only handle so much, so I’m not going to think about anything but today”, but now… Now I’m thinking that “taking a day at a time” is more of a way to relish this life. To truly enjoy the life that we’ve been granted. To enjoy the fact that we are, and that we exist. To discover and find pleasure in a single inspiration and exhalation.

I wish I spent more time looking for the beautiful things in this life. I wish I took more time appreciating, in faith, the bad. I wish that we could all regard “thinking about tomorrow” as being silly and unnecessary, even for one day. As the band Switchfoot says,

“This is your life and today is all you’ve got now
Yeah, and today is all you’ll ever have
Don’t close your eyes
Don’t close your eyes” - Switchfoot, This Is Your Life

It’s so funny being human… We have this incredible ability to completely mistake the beauty around us for something which is “normal”, “drab”, and “of little value”. We are skilled at letting life pass us by. We are masters of speed as we go about our day, speeding out the door, running to our car, flying down the highway…

See, this really wouldn’t be an issue to me… I mean, what’s the harm, right? We can just live our lives – there’s no real formula. Heck, maybe God created us to carry stress in our shoulders and headaches in our stressed little minds. The thing is, I think it really has a much greater impact than we realize.

I find it most noticeably in my prayer life. Prayers are often brief. I cut right to the chase. I take little time really just enjoying being here, on earth, sitting in my chair and talking to the Living God. Maybe I need to buy a hammock.

My best prayer times in the last year have been when I take a walk for an hour or two. I turn my phone on silent, and I just talk to God. Sometimes I get side-tracked with my little random thoughts, but it’s much like talking with a friend. I can almost hear God nudging me and saying,

“Tell me what’s on your mind”
“na… it’s just silly..”, I respond.
“no… common. I want to know what you were laughing about”
”God… it’s stupid, can we talk about important stuff? I’m getting embarrassed”
“The only thing you should be embarrassed about is in your thinking I don’t have a sense of humor…”
“oh, God, it’s not tha…”
“…or thinking I don’t care about silly, inconsequential ramblings of your quirky mind”
*silence*
*both of us start laughing*
I say, “ok, so I was picturing this cow in spandex, and he says……..”

Does God not love this? Does He not want to be a part of every aspect of our lives? Does He really have to be the one we go to for money, help, grace, etc, and nothing else? I’m sorry, but maybe it’s just me… I feel like I’ve been missing out lately on such an important and serious aspect of my relationship with God. The part that’s “un-serious”.

I really think you and I need to slow down. Yes, there are things we must do on the exterior. I’m not talking about stiffing appointments and neglecting laundry and dishes for the day. I’m talking more about the heart. You can surely sense when life is just passing you by, if you look for it. You can definitely sense when beauty and fun is passing you by, partly because you see it, ignore it, and let it pass by so you can get on with “more important things”.

I realize this blog entry has kind of been all over the place, but it really does have a central message to it: seize the day!

Yesterday is gone. Past. There’s no going back.
Tomorrow is inconsequential. There’s nothing you can do to bring it any closer.
Today is what you’ve got. Today is all you’ll ever have.

May we slow down today. Let’s try to appreciate the little things that occur in our crazy life. Let us share more of our crazy ideas with God. Let’s smile at more people today. Let’s laugh at ourselves more. Let us find security, confidence, and hope in the fact that today, and everything that happens in it, whether good or bad, holds such profound value that we should have little response other than praise, worship, and personal enjoyment and pleasure in the Giver and Creator of this magnificent and beautiful blessing called “life”.

P.S. If you’re still thinking about a cow in spendex, you have serious issues - like me.

And you thought I was kidding… no! This is a dangerous airport! Here’s the news article from yesterday:

TEGUCIGALPA, Honduras (AP) — Seven people died and more than 80 were injured when a commercial airliner overshot the runway and traveled into an adjoining street, where it crushed three vehicles and cracked into three sections before coming to a halt a few feet from a house, officials said.

A television image shows the Grupo TACA plane lying in a neighborhood in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

The injured included the former head of Honduras’ armed forces, Gen. Daniel Lopez Carballo, in the crash on Friday.

The Grupo Taca Airbus 320 was trying to land with 124 people on board when it overshot the runway. Its nose smashed into an embankment and its fuselage buckled and broke in places, trapping the pilot and co-pilot inside.

Rescuers had to pry open part of the wreckage to get them out, but the pilot didn’t survive, said Cesar Villalta, director of Honduras’ military hospital.

Passenger Harry Brautigam, a Nicaraguan who headed a regional development bank, died of heart failure shortly after the crash. The body of a man trapped under the plane’s wreckage was believed to be a taxi driver.

Janneth Shantall, the wife of Brazilian Ambassador Brian Michael Fraser Neele, was also killed in the crash, an employee of the Brazilian embassy told local media. That employee, Dennis Hernandez, said the ambassador was also aboard the plane and was injured. Hernandez said he didn’t know the ambassador’s condition.

More than 2,000 gallons (7,500 liters) of fuel spilled out of the jet, and authorities tried to clear away hundreds of onlookers while they hosed down cars trapped under the plane’s left engine.

“The airplane’s fuel could cause an explosion, and that would be an even bigger tragedy,” Security Ministry spokesman Ivan Mejia said.

Many passengers walked away from the accident.

Roberto Sosa, 34, told The Associated Press: “We landed … and suddenly I heard a really strong, loud impact.”

Mirtila Lopez, 71, said she was talking to another passenger when the plane “left the runway, hit electric cables from a nearby street and then got stuck in the side of a small ravine.”

The plane left San Salvador at 8:30 a.m. local time carrying passengers mostly from Honduras, El Salvador and Costa Rica. It was scheduled to stop briefly in Tegucigalpa and in San Pedro Sula before heading to Miami.

It was unclear what caused the crash, but weather may have been a factor. The runway was wet with rain from Tropical Storm Alma.

There have been calls for years to replace aging Toncontin International Airport, whose short runway, primitive navigation equipment and neighboring hills make it one of the world’s more dangerous international airports.

The airport was built on the southern edge of hilly Tegucigalpa in 1948 with a runway less than 5,300 feet (1,600 meters) long — shorter than that of a small field such as Municipal Airport in Goldsboro, North Carolina.

The altitude of some 3,300 feet (1,000 meters) forces pilots to use more runway on landings and takeoffs than they would at sea level. And because of the hills, pilots have to make an unusually steep approach.

President Manuel Zelaya said he was talking to his Cabinet about moving flights to the U.S. military’s Soto Cano air base about 40 miles (65 kilometers) north of the capital.

In 1997, a U.S. Air Force C-130 cargo plane overshot the runway at Toncontin and rolled 200 yards (180 meters) before bursting into flames on a major boulevard, killing three people aboard.

The worst crash associated with the airport came in 1989 when a Honduran airliner hit a nearby hill, killing 133 people.

And here’s what I just said to my great friend, Cavi, moments ago:

[02:11] Ripley: dude… i’m just checking out the news about the plane crash!
[02:11] Panza: yeah I know
[02:11] Panza: lucky you. in over 10 years no plane crash and then you leave
[02:11] Ripley: CRRRRAZY!
[02:11] Ripley: haha…
[02:12] Panza: somehow it was your fault I guess
[02:12] Ripley: HAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!! ok… THAT made me laugh out loud. lol… good one
[02:13] Panza: yes you leave a trail of broken hearts, and destruction where ever you go
[02:13] Ripley: lol
[02:13] Ripley: and wet runways…. don’t forget that.

Cavi…. I love that guy!

And, of course, a video.

This is one of the most awkward interviews I’ve ever watched.

I found this video this morning. Oh my… I don’t know where to start. I hope this is me in 10 years. Still a screw up. Still fumbling through my relationship with God. Still the social reject in conservative Christian circles. Still desperately searching for answers. Still only able to say, “Jesus has never given up on me”.

You guys… This man, Drew Marshall, is a man after my own heart. Basically everything he says are things that I would happily echo to all the goody-goody Christians that I know. It is so refreshing and encouraging to hear someone with the same heart (I feel) as myself and delivering the same, awkward, in-your-face message that I desire to give.

Anyway, enough of my talking. Watch the videos if you have time. They’re each about 10 minutes long.

I’m also going to post an additional video of DM… It’s cool. You’ll have to check it out.

Keep in mind, I don’t know this guy other than these three videos and a humble page on Wikipedia. I was just so impressed with his message and drive that I had to post it. Enjoy!

“I would have done things differently if I knew we would have so short a time together.”

Words of regret. Sincere pain spoken in a single sentence. An expression communicating the anxious understanding of loss. These words were spoken to me recently. I have no doubt they were as hard to say as they were to receive. Life just doesn’t seem fair sometimes. Whether we willfully follow our convictions or simply get thrashed around with the ever pounding waves of life, the paths for each of us somehow seem to cross and intertwine, and sometimes, sadly, even go on in separate directions forever. There is no way to know what will happen, really.

As a young boy, I really came to believe that I could live a life without regret. In fact, it was encouraged among Christian circles to live a life “without regret”… to somehow live a life without a retrospective guilt for things I had done, thought, seen, become… Somehow this “regret free” life was packaged as “Christian” and “Christ-like”, though I can’t say exactly how that ever went over. It just kind of happened.

The older I get… The more people I meet… The more experiences I have… all of these things lead me to believe that regret is simply something that happens in life among all human beings. I can’t help but wonder what things would be like if I didn’t do “such and such”? Was this path I am on merely my destiny, or did I choose it? Or both? If it be merely the latter of the two, then regret abounds all the more. Sin has gotten me where I am today, and sin will bring me to where I sit (or lie) tomorrow. By the same token, God’s grace is what got me to where I am today, and God’s grace will bring me to where I end my day tomorrow.

I guess these thoughts have all somewhat come to a climax lately as I have begun to ponder and meditate on the changes that are currently taking place in me. I notice myself trusting fewer and fewer people. What was once public information has now become privileged information. Friends that I always felt so comfortable around have almost become the “potential enemy”, and withholding from them vital personal information has become my strategy for self-preservation. There are a select few truly deserving of my trust.

I recall, as a child, finding pill bugs beneath rocks. As soon as I would pick them up they would curl up into a solid round ball and not be seen for several minutes. Of course, they weren’t being rude. They were merely protecting themselves from the unknown. I didn’t brandish my shiny, pointy beak. I didn’t squawk or chirp. There really was very little for the poor pill bug to fear as it sat in my soft, pink skin. Nonetheless, it recoiled and disappeared from the world, as far as it was concerned.

In some ways I feel like a pill bug. I’m a guy that people like to pick up and analyze. Those (though not all) that I have been very vulnerable with have smashed me between their thumbs and forefingers. All I know is that curling into a tight little ball has been the safest and healthiest decision I’ve made lately.

In some ways I feel like Satan is just having his way here in America. As more and more atrocities become accepted and “normal” in our society, God seems to be moving further and further away. Or maybe He just never really was as “here” as we give ourselves credit for here in America. I look around and see so many fellow Christians struggling for a single breath of fresh air. Their hands are reaching into the sky as their heads sink below the wavy waterline. We’re all so isolated. We all have issues with trust. We all are in some sort of “self preservation mode”. What’s going on???

I feel like… maybe I just need to simplify things. Maybe I need to somehow downsize my “friend roster” by 80%. Maybe I need to limit my life to work and sleep and an occasional slim-fast milkshake. Maybe I should give out as little information about my life as possible, and only indulge people when they’re on a need-to-know basis. Maybe I should only talk to people I actually like, and can possibly see myself trusting somewhere down the line. Maybe I just need to be more honest with people and be less “friendly” and less of a people pleaser. Maybe I should burn 90% of my bridges so I don’t have the option of crossing them again. Would I regret these things? Probably.

I don’t know if any of you feel like you’re drowning in this vast ocean too. I don’t know if this culture has overwhelmed and overcome you, too. From the outside, most of you look like you’ve really got it together. Your life is in more or less in order, you’re comfortable, you have great aspirations, your dreams are healthy and strong, and you have solid people you can trust. And that’s great. I think.

I guess I’m sad. I guess I’m still vulnerable. I suppose I’m disappointed. I still feel very betrayed by a few people. I’ve also realized this year how horribly I betrayed someone that had invested much in me. I wish we could all just start with clean slates and somehow trust the hand that reaches out towards the water and pulls us on-board the ship for a time. I can’t help but avoid that hand these days, as I assume I’ll just be brought aboard only to be kicked off again, and in an even more wounded and injured state than before.

Will I regret these changes I am allowing in my life? Will I mourn the loss of various friendships? Will I be consumed with loneliness and despair? Something tells me that there are no guarantees, and the only thing I can really count on is the grace of my God keeping me from altogether succumbing and sinking into the dark abyss that has already begun to tug and pull at my feet.

Again, I must preface this blog with a little disclaimer… The following is technically just “rambling” thoughts and ideas about a topic I feel I know little about and understand even less about. If you’d just like to watch the 4 minute video and skip the words, it’s fine by me! I’d love to hear your comments about the video, though, so please let me know what you thought of it! I’m more scared to hear what you may think about my thoughts and ideas. Again, I feel as though my limited vocabulary and general inability to express my thoughts has somehow crippled me from really communicating my entire perspective, and instead only permitted me to give you a small slice of my mind and heart. Nonetheless, I’m exhaling my breath, uncrossing my fingers, and posting yet another vulnerable blog entry. Enjoy~

I stumbled upon this video today. I watched it three times. It evoked in me an emotion that I have not yet experienced or identified. It brings out an emotion that is neither sad nor joyful. If I were to spew out a few words that might briefly suffice, perhaps “skeptical” would be among them… Also “romantic”, “jaded”, “yearning”, “revelation”…

I noticed among the comments on the YouTube site someone asking, “is there a sequel?”. It’s a natural curiosity, is it not? Indeed, we wonder if she ever received her camera… if she called him… if they had a relationship…

I immediately realized something I have never really come to realize before. We don’t want a sequel. I don’t, anyway. I always thought I did. But now, it seems to me that a sequel would be “boring”. The answers to my most nagging questions would simply take away from the deep feelings and emotions that the mysteries of this video brought out. Knowing the entire story would somehow smother and dilute the purity of the 267 second clip.

It leaves me to ponder my own view of romance. My perspective has changed over the course of the last year, and even years prior. Is romance an isolated event? Does it have a beginning and an end? I notice we call entire books “romance novels” and certain movies “romantic movies”… And yet, I wonder, how much actual time within a 2 hour movie or a 500 page book is actually “romance”?

Let’s not play with words here. I don’t need anyone to read me the definition of romance. You know what I’m talking about… I’m talking, of course, about that thing we desire when we do read the romance novel or watch the romantic movie. I’m talking about the thing that little girls desire when they’re little children pretending to walk the aisle. I’m talking about the thing you see everyone else experiencing, while never really feeling like you’ve experienced it yourself. I’m talking about the fog of romance.

I don’t know if you’ve ever looked up at the clouds and thought about what it would be like to bounce upon the tops of them, like jumping on a comfortable bed with down blankets and soft pillows. Perhaps you’ve had a window seat on an airplane, and couldn’t help but imagine jumping out of the plane to be caught gently in the white blanket of clouds beneath you. Of course, in reality, you would fall straight through them to your grisly, pathetic death… and I think many people often do, when they put faith in the idea that romance can satisfy you (or even, that you’ll somehow be as satisfied with the amount of romance you are given as you are when you leave the theater after a good chick flick).

I wonder about the design of romance itself. Was it really intended to exist, or did it just happen? Was there a design? IS there a design? Can romance really be planned, at all? Doesn’t the very nature of romance demand some sort of “magic” or chemistry that is born outside of and exists outside of the norm?

I can’t help but feel like some sort of knock-off of the original human being. I’m just a replica of a replica of a replica. I’m the cheap, made-in-China, plastic, easily-breakable, lead painted version of man, and my ideas of “romance” follow suit. Adam didn’t have to deal with the Hollywood expectations of romance. It just happened. Pure sparks and steady flame. Everything since the fall of man now seems corrupted, obscure, deficient… weak… like a paper that’s been copied in an industrial copier so many times that the writing is barely legible anymore.

Perhaps true romance exists out there. If it does, I don’t want to know about it. Not yet, anyway. I simply don’t. Let me find it on my own. In the meantime, I’m perfectly content and appeased by assuming that my lack of experiences (in encountering “enduring” romance, anyway) permit the belief that romance is as solid a hope as the pillowy, weight-supporting cushion of a cumulus cloud.

It seems that the only way to really ever be content in romance is to enjoy the snippets that do occur, as they occur. Every 4 minute clip of your life that passes you by must somehow hold enough value to you that the other 10,076 minutes of the week don’t really matter, or at least don’t have to hold such a remarkable value (strictly in the area of “romance”, that is). Romance, if you have any desire for it, must be intentionally accepted and appreciated, because it will be brief.

If clouds be before me or below me, wonderful. If not, that is ok. Perhaps one will surprisingly hold my weight for some lengthy amount of time. In the meantime, it sure is nice to have finally come to a point in my life where my hope is invested in something other than the lofty dreams of a 6 year old (or some idealistic Hollywood writer), and in something firm, valuable, and satisfying. Let’s hope this is just the beginning… just the blurry opening of my infant eyes to the world of God’s design for romance.