Sketches from London

I. Eyes East

             The ground rumbles beneath his feet, but it is hardly enough to break Jack’s reverie of thought as he strides out of the Underground station. Hands in pockets, with the brisk breath of the river whipping through his hair, he crosses the street in front of him. 

             Walking up the small hill towards his job in The City, he approaches the dull slab of concrete known as London Bridge. Synonymous with nursery rhyme infamy, there’s nothing particularly special about it on the whole.  However, a look to the east presents a striking view of its more famous neighbor, Tower Bridge. 

             He aggressively weaves his way through the cluttered crowd of people making their way to the other side, and continues the commute to the office building. As a low-level policy analyst at a large financial institution, there is little enthusiasm for what lies ahead this day. Arriving at the dreary gray building, Jack enters and takes the lift to the 4^th floor.  Coming out of the lift, he runs into his co-worker Rob.

             “Hey mate!” Rob exclaims. “How are you doing today?”

             “It’s early and I haven’t had my coffee yet,” was the irritated response. How in the world could one be so excited at the start of the work day Jack wonders. Not one to linger for small-talk, he heads to his cubicle and opens up the day’s spreadsheets. 

             Time crept by as the last trickle of water does when fighting it’s way down a dry creek. The second hand advanced at what seemed an unnaturally slow pace. However, went it finally reached five o’clock, Jack bolted out of his chair and moved at a hurried pace to the elevator desperately trying to evade any invitations for after work drinks. Reaching the lobby, he saw the large glass doors that indicated reprieve. At least until tomorrow. 

             Breaking outside, the damp drizzle brought welcome solace. The thumping of his heart slowed and calm started to wash over him as his feet pounded the pavement of London. That dissipated into frustration as he looked ahead, and saw the massive crowds on the bridge. Of course, its Friday. Which mean that every person in the area would be on the bridge with their camera, trying to get the perfect shot to the east. 

             Why must they be here? What is so special about that damn bridge? For the life of him, Jack could not understand the allure. These people were just the continuation of a stressful day he had finished, and of the days he had ahead of him. “Fucking tourists,” he muttered under his breath. A little too loudly, as a nearby mother whipped around and shot a furious glare at him. He just let it roll off his shoulders, and continued to push on.

             However, about three quarters of the way across, something strange happened. Jack looked east. Just for a second. And then he continued for another 10 steps, and stopped again. Backtracking a few steps to get a better view, he stood rooted to the spot for a minute that felt like a day. Here he was, doing the thing he despised others for. 

             And yet, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight, the mesmerizing sight. All of a sudden, he felt the urge to be at railing of the bridge. The confluence of colors that bathed the bridge and surrounding buildings held his rapt attention as he shoved his way to the front. What am I doing? Why am I stopped, staring here? As questions flooded his mind, something occurred that hadn’t happened in quite a while.

             He saw.

II. Graphite

             Effortlessly dancing across the solid oak table, the flame cast an amusing shadow. One that was daintily traced by Jack’s index finger. Around and around, following the twists and turns of the whimsical source of light and heat his finger went. A few candles scattered throughout the room were the only sources of light. Jack sat at a table in the middle of his flat, facing the door with his back to a wall of windows, and the desk to his left. It was that indeterminable time between late night and early morning, and no sleep had come that night. 

             Little had brought joy, and there was little he knew what to do about it. The usual approaches had failed, so there was a feeling of being permanently stuck. Sitting in the creaking wooden chair, he decided he had to do something, if only to alleviate the crushing boredom. Standing up, he slowly walked over to his desk and opened the worn wooden drawer. He removed a few sheets of paper and the set of drawing pencils he had bought on a whim the other day. Shuffling back to his trusty seat, he laid the materials down on the table.  Blankly looking at them, he sat there wondering just what he was supposed to do with them. 

             He gingerly picked up one of the pencils and pulled one piece of paper in front of him.  Unsure of what was to come next, he reckoned he should at least make contact with the pencil. The act of pulling the pencil across paper, overcoming the resistance and making his mark, was surprisingly gratifying. With this newfound feeling, he decided to loosely trace the shadow that had been entertaining him for most of the night. 

             He paid no heed to the time, as the simple pleasure of dragging graphite across paper kept him occupied. Graceful curves and leisurely arcs started to fill the originally empty canvas. Jack started to draw with more fervor, more purpose. Not content to simply let his hand be dictated by a candle’s flame, he struck out on his own, putting bold lines into his otherwise fluid art.  

Creating some thing of his own captivated Jack. He kept at it, with his pencil starting to fly across the paper in every which way. They were simply abstract shapes,  not representing anything other than impulse. And yet, they were his shapes, the expression of whatever thoughts and feelings coursed through his head at that particular moment in time.  

             Sitting there at the table, he was finally able to express himself again. It wasn’t much, but it was a certainly a start. And that’s all that Jack could have wanted after wandering through the past months without any idea of where he was headed. As he sat straight up, rolling out the kinks in his neck from being bent over all night, he noticed the room was awash with faint light.  

             Wearily he stood up, and paused for a moment. Then stepping out from the chair he turned around, and saw the first beams of sunlight pierce the previously grim sky. As he continued to stand there, pale light imbued his flat, and himself, with warmth. And gazing longingly out the window, a hint of a smile creased the corner of his lips. 

III. Northbound

             It was about time, Jack though. About time to see his family again. It was one of those cliche life lessons that was nonetheless still true despite being a cliche. He really didn’t know how good he had it until it was gone. And so as he started the process of throwing some clothes in a duffel bag (packing was his least favorite activity) Jack reflected upon everything that had happened since the last time he saw them. 

             Slinging the bag over his shoulder and double checking the lock on the door, Jack headed out into the chilly pre-dawn morn. Walking a few blocks down the street, he huddled under the small bus shelter with a few other brave souls out at that hour as he waited for the 63 bus to take him to King’s Cross. As headlights peeked around the bend in the road, he fumbled around for his wallet and managed to board the bus. 

             Slouched in a bus seat, he sighed and forced himself to stay awake, at least until he got on the train. There would be plenty of time for sleeping then. Pondering what was to come, Jack realized he was surprisingly a bit nervous. Where did that come from? I love my family, he thought. And yet there it was, an unshakeable unsettledness lodged deep inside his chest. Consumed as he was with these thoughts, he nearly missed his stop, and promptly got up and hopped off the bus. 

             By now it was becoming normal commuting time. And in London, that means anyone and everyone heads to the train stations. As he strode forward, he was swallowed by the sea of important and not so important business people heading towards their morning trains. Pausing for a moment to locate his train on the large screens lofted high above the heads of the milling passengers, he found it and proceeded to head towards platform eight. Walking along the platform, he located the correct car and ducked inside. Worming his way into his seat, he then waited for the doors to close, and the train to depart. When the doors did close, Jack realized he had no one sitting next to him, a delightful surprise. And with that tiring morning behind him, he quickly nodded off to sleep as the train began to head north.

             His eyelids creeping open, Jack squinted at the midday sun that roused him from his slumber. Glancing at his watch, as soon as he registered what time it was, he felt the train start to slow beneath him. Right on time. Shaking off the post-nap effects, the nervousness returned. Although this time it was different. It was tinged with excitement. Excitement that he gets to see the family he has so dearly missed, and surely they can’t be that different than when he left before. They were family after all. 

             Leaving the train, he began to gaze around the familiar station, one he had been in many times before. Moving towards the exit his head swiveled to and fro searching for the faces he knew oh so well. A hand to his left shot up and started waving excitedly towards him. Turning that way, the rest of his mother soon appeared. Reaching them, he was enveloped in a hug that only mothers know how to give his children. Seeing the sly grin on his brother’s face confirmed that he was home, and all would be well. 

            With his mother chatting excitedly, the three of them headed out towards the family car. In those moments, Jack felt the nervousness relax. It didn’t suddenly dissipate, but the knot inside loosened just a bit. That’s okay, he thought. Surely the rest will come with time. 

Unfinished

It's something I've been feeling a lot lately. In fact, all semester. That things just aren't coming together, that there's a whole lot of uncertainty. That there's no final end in sight, that I can't see over the horizon. And I'm scared of that. But its also something I've learned to come to grips with, and am in the process of learning to be okay with.

Because what does the word unfinished mean?

un·fin·ished

   [uhn-fin-isht] 

adjective

1.

not finished;  incomplete or unaccomplished.

Take a look at all three of those descriptions in the definition. And then flip them around.

Finished. Complete. Accomplished.

Do I really want my life to be that at the age of 20? To me, the words finished and complete provide certainty and conclusion. Things are how they are, and come at the end of whatever they're describing. Could this possibly be the case at this time in my life? I don't think so. And that's good. Because those words eliminate the room for change and growth and all the experiences that life on earth offers. I've barely scratched the surface in terms of how I think and see the world, and how I approach the religion that I've claimed for most of my life but only truly lived for a fraction of it. Being finished implies that there's no more progress possible. And that is what would be truly scary. I would be utterly devastated if there was no room for improvement and maturation. I am positively not in a place right now where I would be content to stay. Maybe for me I won't feel that way for quite a long time, or ever at all.

So this leads to the last word. Accomplished. To me, being accomplished in something means someone who is an expert in their field. At this point I really feel like I'm accomplished in nothing. Film? Nope. Audio? Nada. Schoolwork? Definitely not. Christianity? Neophyte. But you know what? I'm happily coming to terms with this situation. Because I have hope through Christ. And where my hope lies determines where my progress lies. Since hope is defined by what is not, I'm unfinished. I'm incomplete. There is oh so much room for improvement.

And yet why would I not want that?

Do I want to be a static person? Do I want to accept the plateau and forsake the valleys and mountaintops? Leading a life devoid of change begets dullness and refuses to recognize the way that God can move in your life. It's a journey that brings us alongside towering verdant forests, tumultuous waves crashing against a rocky coastline; birds singing the joys of life, the struggles of the lowliest creatures. But all along this path there is a constant, enduring hope. One that says that:

The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand. (psalm 37:23-24 esv)

This is a certainty I can hold on to. Stumbling is inevitable. But what greater comfort is there to know that the Lord is there all along keeping you upright? The knowledge and belief and hope in the promises of God should cause me to walk through the world in a different way. The paradigm has shifted. No longer does a sense of fear prevail, but dare I say it, excitement should be the order of the day. Excitement that we have spiritual gifts to be used. Excitement that we can engage in the most authentic community possible. Excitement that we have the creator of all things to walk along with us, hold our hands, and guide us. Excitement for the possibilities of the future. And excitement that we aren't finished yet, and are in the best possible hands to be in.

So I'm no math genius, but today a new equation has become apparent to me.

Unfinished = Excitement.

Some Clarity of Thought (finally).

I’ve been struggling lately. Big time. I’ve picked up a second major, I’m not quite sure where I want to go in life, and most importantly, I haven’t felt like God has been around.  There wasn’t any noticeable guidance or direction given to me in this season of change that’s happening. Worry and anxiety filled me. And to those who know me well, that isn’t the type of person I am or want to be, and so I’ve been hating every minute of the heavy-heartedness. Now by no means has this instantly faded away, nor has the imprint even been dulled to a normal degree. But taking a day to write, a day to wander, and a day to think has brought some clarity to my thoughts.

An oft overlooked part of God, is that he will never forget nor break his promises. 

“He is the LORD our God; his judgments are in all the earth. He remembers his covenant forever, the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations” (psalm 105:7-8). 

With the thousands of promises made throughout the Bible, God will never go back on a single one of them.  And that’s really  one of the things I’ve let slip my mind for quite a while. When I’m praying or journaling or just being sad, I fail to remember that God keeps his word, and that his capacity for doing so will never diminish, no matter what each of us does to the contrary. And so when I don’t understand the supposed lack of holy direction in my life, this has to be one of the first thoughts I hold captive in my head. He does not go back on His word.

The next step would be to ask what some of those are. A good friend showed me this verse the other day, and it seemed important at the time, but in light of what I’ve recently been struck by, it becomes all the more important:

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (jeremiah 29:11).

He has it all figured out already.  The plans made for me are not malicious, they aren’t meant for my downfall. The plans are for hope. At this time in life, when I’m struggling with which way I should be turning in terms of career paths and life in general, the Lord has already devised a path for me, one that brings a future of peace.

And so He has prepared it all for us. There is a wonderful road ahead, should we choose to journey on it. Then comes the part that I think all of us struggle with at some point or another. Giving up the control, giving up the five and ten year plans we (well, at least me) had in life. Something that I read at retreat has been weighing on me as of late, and it is one of the verses that I hope to never forget 

“Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday” (psalm 37:5-6).

He is the only person in the universe who is trustworthy one hundred percent of the time. He has planned out and promised a life of welfare, and a future of hope. He doesn’t break his promises. So where does that leave us? At commitment.

For me, relinquishing both my actions and my thoughts about what is best for me is incredibly tough. It will continue to be a challenge for me for who knows how long. But where there is great, overwhelming challenge, there is massive room for God to work in you. I'm not sure this process will ever end. And I'm not sure it should, either. There's always going to be one more thing that we can give to God, and more thoughts that we can commit to His ways. But through such an arduous process, He lets our righteousness shine forth, bright as light. And that is something to look forward to.

Despair gets you nowhere as I’ve found out recently. So lets venture on down the road God has made for us, find joy in the beauty of His creation, and take solace in the fact that we would want no one else but Him molding us and guiding our footsteps. 

poetry, eh?

yeah, i gave it a shot.


dear adversity - part one


standing, revolving slowly
in a verdant clearing amongst enduring trees
wind rustling and swirling
at a deafening volume.
three hundred and sixty degrees I turn
each a different view,
sight,
possibility.
the choice is overwhelming
striking out path upon path
seemingly no way out


a blackened night
leads to a head hung in despair
the feeling of entrapment permeates these woods
surely there’s an answer?
surely this doesn’t last forever?


dear adversity – part two


the wind dies
all is quiet.
except for
the faintest trickle of a stream
masked by the leaves before
now loud as a thunderclap


hope.


I strike out a path
once more unto the breach.
reaching the brook 
the water is dancing,
twirling, 
alive.
from within 
a sense of confidence arises
there is no doubt that this small thing of wonder
will not lead me astray


the journey home begins.

No Shame

I have to admit, I’m not the best at being open and honest about being a Christian when I’m with people from back home. At AU, Chi Alpha serves as a flashing beacon to all about where your allegiance and affiliation lies. But back home that anchor doesn’t exist.  People don’t necessarily know me as a dedicated Christian, as it wasn’t the case back in high school. And while I’m going back to AU in just over two weeks, that is no excuse for not trying to impact people’s lives now nor preparing for later.

Regardless of what environment we find ourselves in, we can’t be ashamed for what believe in. Just as many of us feel passionately about films, books, music, politics, and want to share our thoughts and beliefs with those around us, should we not add Christ to that list? I certainly struggle with this. It invites questioning and even derision, the former which I worry I won’t give the perfectly correct answer, and the latter just plain hurts. But the fact of the matter is that if we live in a way that precipitates those questions, then we know we are creating an impact on those around us, and one that can lead to some potentially vital conversations.

This brings me to my central thought I’ve been having of late. I cannot be ashamed of being a Christian. No p-p-p-p-p-p-p-peer pressure in our environments should make us less proud to call ourselves Christ followers.  We should know that the gospel can overcome all the external forces trying to push us into different shapes:

^“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.” (romans 1:16 esv)

I need to challenge myself to not be afraid of labeling myself. I should want people to know my set of beliefs through my actions and through my convictions. A challenge not to shy away from any questions, and not to give evasive answers when asked. Whatever situation I find myself in, I should feel completely okay speaking truthfully and openly.

Let’s follow Paul’s example, and not be ashamed of the gospel, no matter if we are at home, at AU, or anywhere abroad. We can impact whatever community we are a part of. Don't be afraid to answer the tough questions. And more importantly, don't be afraid of inviting the tough questions.

A Joyful Perspective

Last night all the thoughts and theories and mindless meanderings came together to present one coherent, colorful idea.

We have so much to be joyful for.

Leaving small group, I booked it over to the library and diligently (for once) got my work done. As I left, I was struck by the fact that I just wanted to go somewhere. I didn’t want to head back to my dorm, I didn’t want to head anywhere at all, so I just walked. There wasn’t a destination and there wasn’t a time limit, an incredibly freeing sensation that I feel is all too often put by the wayside in pursuit of productivity or advancement of whatever you happen to be working on.  Wandering down the streets and neighborhoods around AU, I was content to just listen to music, look at the sky, and walk.

Entering into these weeks at the end of the semester, the world takes on a breakneck pace, with some of us wondering how we’re ever going to make it through these finals. I find it imperative however, that we take the time to find the joy that is in our lives, not just now, but whenever we can.  The perspective from which we see the world can be greatly influenced by what we search for. And when we search for the joys that God puts in our life, and indeed the joy that is God, will not our attitudes be much better for it?

That said, a Christian walk is not genuine at all without tribulations. These tough times are when so much about our character can be discovered. Yet take strength in the cross.

 “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, ³for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. ⁴And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4 ESV).

Count it all joy. Everything, the entirety, the whole. There isn't room for anything else in that statement. All of our trials should be filled with the joyous mindset that coming through these things with God makes us steadfast and complete. 

Don’t be discouraged by the various trials in your life. Take refuge in the community that God has provided you, and have peace at the fact that these trials will produce steadfastness in Christ, the one thing that cannot be bound by any of our fears.

There is abundant joy surrounding us. For me that can be as simple as walking down the street listening to music, to art, to creativity that flows from the creator.

So seek the joy in your life. You’ll find it.

                

Real Community

After Thanksgiving dinner my family and I were travelling through the myriad mess of construction known as northern Virginia. Going from Virginia to Maryland, switching one set of relatives for another, along came a rare opportunity to reflect and simply think.  I popped in my headphones and put on some music I hadn’t really heard before.

I was thinking about and thankful for the community of people that have surrounded me in recent months.  The people and the relationships developed so far this semester have made it far and away the best of my time at AU. Then the melancholy musings of a certain Charlie Fink reached my ears: “I’m the flower that you’re keeping / that without love will wilt and die”.  I took the lyrics into the context I was already thinking in, and it hammered a resonant chord within me.

Without love we wilt and die. We know this. Without God’s love and wrath (yes, wrath) and grace we are nothing. But I challenge anyone and everyone who reads this to impart this idea into their relationships around them.  An odyssey with Jesus is not meant to be undertaken alone.  When it comes to the most momentous course of action you’ll ever take, can you honestly trust yourself to do it right without anyone else? As Christians we asphyxiate spiritually in the absence of a loving and real community. If we can't do it by ourselves, neither can anyone around us. We must be a loving body of Christ.  

When it comes to love, bible verses are dime-a-dozen (not to demean the value of any one verse of course). But I go back to our latest brother/sister small group and I can’t help but think that this one verse in particular is picture perfect:  

“Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love” 1^st John 4:8.

What kind of people are we if we don’t try to love all of those we consider part of our community? It's our duty, an imperative action, to attempt and show what a true brotherhood, a true sisterhood is. Let's not let anyone go without the knowledge of God through our love.  

Don’t be afraid to be a part of that community. Run towards it. Be someone to somebody, and allow them to thrive. Love them for who they are, and for who God intends them to be. You might be surprised at the marked difference doing so creates.

I certainly know the effect such a community has on a person.

Because you guys have been that to me.