The complexity of simplicity Pt. 1

Below is a journal entry I wrote in April of 2008 about the previous year (Before I had a blog, ha). I now post it because we had quite the discussion on simplicty last night in our community. In fact, this whole month, we are exploring this idea in different, tangible ways. I thought I would post this . . . these were my thoughts two years ago. But when discussing last night, I feel like I have a whole new flood of insight and thought that greatly expand on this. So, I plan to follow this up with a post that expands on this idea much more and one that perhaps gives rounder thought to this immense topic. Maybe it will even use Bible verses this time. Ha.

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Simplicity.

“Simplicity is the property, condition, or quality of being simple or un-combined. It often denotes beauty, purity or clarity. Simple things are usually easier to explain and understand than complicated ones. Simplicity can mean freedom from hardship, effort or confusion. It may also refer to a simple living lifestyle. Can also be the basis,or bare foundation to terms of understanding, proving no depth or intricate reasoning.” -(Sorry, two years ago, I didn't site my source)

Simplicity.

What does this look like in our world and what is its purpose?

A question I’ve asked myself so many times since last year. One I feel I have come a long ways in understanding, but far from practicing. Recent thinking on this topic again, as well as recent conversations about this have led me to the following.

Like most ideas in my life, simplicity was first understood by me on one of the far ends of the pendulum

In this case, legalistic asceticism.

Giving up ALL possessions, fixating on only pleasures that directly involve God, living literally as Jesus did, basically denying ALL worldy pleasures to inherit heavenly ones, etc. was my idea of “Simplicity”

Simplicity, in my mind, started outwardly so it could change me inwardly.

Well, this was a big task, but Lord knows I got to a point where I was willing to go homeless (But this would been out of guilt and not love).

My first Baby, baby, baby step in doing this was to (Probably without the knowledge of anyone at this point), get rid of well over half of my clothes. I trimmed it WAY down. My next step was to get rid of about 75% of my DVDs and almost all my CD’s (But what does it matter, the music was still on my computer).

Then again in the winter, I got rid of over half my winter clothes.

My shoes of choice had become, in the winter, a pair of shoes I’ve had for 5 years, and in the summer, a pair of sandals I’ve had for 8 years.

I was well on my way to simplicity.

Somewhere along the way I realized the enormity of what I was pursuing and it killed me. At what point am I simple? I could have only one shirt, but if a boy in Africa comes on TV and has no shirt, then do I have too much? Wait, I have a TV? Should I be watching that? What about my car, why do I have that when I could easily Bike . . . or walk! To be simple, do I need less “things”? How much less? Being dirt poor in America, is like a King in other countries, how do you reconcile that? As a disciple of Christ am I commanded to sell all my possessions and give to the poor? If so, don’t the poor I give money to then just use it to buy “Things” and therefore disobey the command I followed to bless them, giving them the very thing I have rebuked? Should I give up my cell phone? Say, “screw the internet” and withdraw? What is the answer?

The enormity of a goal that seemed all but impossible to reach, rendered the end of any sort of pursuit of “simplicity” in my life before I even got very far. I gave up, because life had become full of nothing but guilt and complexity in this effort.

I have come to believe that obtaining inward simplicity through becoming outwardly (specifically materially) simple is like believing that putting on Pro football gear will make me a Pro football player.

At some point I just arrived at what I believe true simplicity is.

Growing communion with God.

This is an inward event.

That has outward changes.

Because honestly, if we focus on inward simplicity, that is, growing communion with God, then doesn’t all the worldy desires just naturally begin to fade away?

While dressing up as Pro footballer doesn’t make me one, it is true that all Pro football players wear the gear. The gear has no bearing on ability, but in those who do have the ability, it is an outward and necessary expression of the reality.

Sometimes when reading the news off of Digg I have to make sure, half way through the article, that I'm not accidentally reading the Onion. Its always a relief when I am reading the Onion, but its horrible when I realize its an actual news story.

Jesus Rifles!

Who's Gonna Reset The Bone?

With little to blog about, I have to start, so I can bump that horridly sad picture in my last post.

1. I really like the new Swell Season CD.

2. I have begun to love straight espresso. Everyone should and you should go to Broadway Cafe in order to love it properly . . . they have the best by far.

3. I have had a shift in how to approach people, in line with what I have hoped. We're all broken people just trying to figure out life and none of us are getting it right. I believe this view fosters compassion, empathy, and patience.

4. I no longer enjoy Hookah.

5. Pride and fear are rampant in the human soul. They Kill.

6. I never thought I would live in Kansas City, but now I do. And I love it.

7. "Oh, what am I to think of what the writing of a thousand lifetimes could not explain if all the forest trees were pens and all the oceans, ink?"

8. I don't understand it. I feel so far from it. And I sure don't mean it. But I believe it.

All that matters is Jesus.

Probably one of the saddest photos ever

This made me happy google, but its also a little creepy you have it.

Take A Look at this.

Tiffany for whatever reason (probably love) googled my name today and decided to send me the link to this article and it shocked me because I literally haven't seen it in 12 years. While I was never in boy scouts, this magazine was put out by the boy scouts. It was called "Boys Life" I actually got recognized several places right after this article in 1996.

I was just commenting the other day about how for me memories of places and people always bring a kind of sadness with them.

But not this. This article is from a time in life I'm really fond of. Nothing but joy comes from this.

The "Jenks America Jersey" reminds me of Jenks, OK. The track where I trained and all the people I knew. There would be upwards of 70 kids at the track I trained at with Jenks America. Our team even won nationals several times.

If you look on the left, you see the cover of the magazine with a big Iguana on it. This is what inspired me to soon after get two iguanas. In a web of circumstances, I think Joseppi owes his home with me to this article.

What you probably didn't notice are the "Racing Stripes" buzzed into my head. Why my parents let me do this, I'll never know, but I was the only kid (at the time) I ever knew to have these . . . and yes, they eventually went all the way around my head.

I'm wearing girls shoes by the way. Mens shoes were often too wide for my feet at this age.

This was a good memory. I am such a different person now . . . I no longer run, I got a real haircut, weigh 2.2 times as much and I only occasionally wear womens shoes (Kidding). But its ok. This was a time in my life I have my fondest memories . . . loving running, living in Oklahoma and not having a care in the world. And I'm ok with that.

I don't miss it and I don't regret it.

A Pharisee And His Loss

I'm in the blogging mood this morning. I'm never in a blogging mood in the morning. It might be the 2 shots of espresso I had.

I find myself awkward at the idea of what I'm about to broadcast, because its point isn't for sympathy, but as a vital part of my processing about ministry in the inner city.

In light of one of Lukes recent posts, I can't help but smile at the irony of my truck being stolen last Wednesday night.

The lock to our parking lot was cut. Truck locks bypassed. Hot Wired (Who knows how they got it out, but according to the tire marks in the snow, it took a couple of tries)?

My favorite part is picturing the mounds of snow that must have had to been scraped off before it was even drivable.

I wonder if they adjusted the mirrors also before they took off?

In reality though, while it is immediatley inconvenient, in the scheme of life, this is about as meaningful as a stubbed toe. I came to live in this neighborhood, prepared to possibly give my life. So in the days after a stolen truck, its only produced a gratefullness that at least I still have a lot more valuable things to sacrifice.

Yet, its made me think a lot about love, grace, justice and forgiveness.

When asked who the pharisees of our day are, Shane Claiborne responded “Me. The Pharisees of today are people like me. White, educated males. We are the Pharisees.”

I am both intrigued and confused by this answer. It's about me and I struggle to understand it, let alone avoid perpetuating its truth.

So what does it mean that I assume the person who took my truck is not like me at all; a black, uneducated male?

What does it mean that in one moment I pray the thief will come to understand Ephesians 4:28, but in the next moment I hope he crashes the truck into a tree?

I struggle to know, with Jesus hanging on the cross in the middle of two criminals, on which side is my thief?

Would he confess or curse my savior? Has he answered this? To what extent is this trespass against me, a trespass against the one in whose name I come?

Should I pray for him or shake the dust off my feet?

I was asked by someone, if he was to be caught, would I press charges?

I certainly have not come to this neighborhood to facilitate our countries brand of justice.

Yet, would I get the audience with this person to express how unneccesary his actions were? Would I be allowed, or even able, to extend grace to him in a meaningful way? Would I be a a resounding gong and clanging cymbal or would I speak the words of life? Would I even want to meet him?

On which side of the cross is my thief?

For me, this is the whole tension. How do I break down cultural barriers in the name of my God without building them myself? How should I hope and pray and how should I rebuke? How should I love and how should I bring justice? How should I feel and how should I sacrifice?

How should I discern if I'm poor in spirt or if I'm just a pharisee; a white, educated male at the feet of my savior?

God have mercy.

**EDIT: Sorry for the mis-use of any scripture for my own purpose, hopefully the train of thought is understood.

Raytown

Quiet nights take me on drives, and on this one,
to a local restaurant. The teen-something cashier
checks my ten dollar bill with a pen that will colorfully tell
if I’m an honest soul
or have less noble pursuits.

I pass and she subtly flirts, unaware of my
age or commitment— perhaps not.
I say nothing and frown, while silently wishing there was a tip
jar so I could fail to contribute, just
to drive the point home.

I hunker in a seat by myself and become
self-conscious.
This quickly dissipates as I discover that my
hot sandwich has
cold, un-melted cheese.
Eh, I move on.

Two middle aged women enter and begin pointing and staring at
the sign above my booth, advertising something
they heard was good, but have no intention of ordering.
They’re uncomfortably close and awkwardly happy.
I become self-conscious again.

I finish my meal and refill my drink.
Forgetting my lid on the counter,
I begin heading to my truck without cup holders.
Once inside, I pinch
the drink between my legs and
wonder if there is anywhere else to
go, but home. I drive that direction, tired,
realizing that quiet nights take me on drives,
but loud ones bring me home.

A Cup Full Of Oil

A Cup Full Of Oil


Some places are meant to be left.
Only in memories can they
truly come alive.
And the pain sifts
to the bottom as all the beauty
and all the good
sit on top like
oil on
water.

Some places look better in the rain.
I have my routes
that I only drive in storms.
The sun can taint a scene, exposing faded colors
and giving a cheery personality to something
meant to be dulled by dark
clouds and falling drops.

Some places are hell.
Not the after-death.
But places that are currently real and
impossibly inescapable. Crumbled minds,
battered spirits and ravaged lands can testify that death
is death is death.

But some places are meant for love.
My arms
and my heart.
Your world
and mine.
Life
and death.

A cup full of oil.

54 years

Interview with Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou.

Blue Indian's interview with Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou from Drew Goddard on Vimeo.

29 Years

I confess. I don't know how to make the most of this life.

I want so much from this life. At least 5 lifetimes worth, if not more.

So how do I deal with the fact that I only have one life? How do any of this deal with that?

Precious days, passing by.

I'll spend this life, figuring out a fraction of what I want from this life.



And now it's time for bed.

Tootin My Horn: UPDATE

So this post is actually going to combine my last two posts.

First off, I just got in my Sumatra Mandheling beans to Roast. I'm really excited about these beans, and roasted up three batches this afternoon (Last time I smelled up the whole church, but I've figured out a good method involving doing it out my bedroom window and using a fan).

And WHILE the beans were roasting (They take about 7 minutes) I returned to the typing to test to make good on my claim that I could reach 90 WPM.

My first try today landed me at a new record of 86.7. Then a few tries later I pulled off a heartbreaking 89.2. Then, during my third batch, this happened . . .




After Lukes last comment (He apparently didn't even try the test or else he would see that it takes many considerations into calculating your score) he'll be happy to know that I only missed two words.

And now I think I'm done with this test forever because

1. I feel really lame for needing to show this off on my blog.

2. I think I've reached my limit and could spend hours improving very little

3. I saw this guy . . .

Tootin My Horn

I hate these kind of things, because I usually become addicted. Luckily I have restrained myself and haven't played this game that much. I was mainly averaging 70 - 74 WPM, but then something clicked and I reached a whole new level . . .




I'm done after that last one, but I have confidence tomorrow that I can reach 90. I challenge someone to beat me . . . rankmytyping.com

Coffee Roasting

Thats right, coffee roasting. I am now a home roaster. I ordered my green coffee beans (Costa Rica Las Lajas Mell and Colombia Sierra Nevada) and picked up my $9.99 Walgreens Hot Air Popcorn Popper and roasted 6 batches of coffee today!

Its the experiment stage. I roasted 3 batches of each kind of bean for varying lengths of time. Now, the hard part is waiting a couple of days for the CO2 to escape before grinding and pressing the beans.

I've been doing a lot of researching into roasting coffee beans and it has been fascinating. I truly hope that this is the beginning of a long time hobby.

I'd Bury It, I'd Burn It

Last night, Luke, Nick and I watched the movie Millions. It was a movie about kids who find a bag full of money and follows the events that unfold afterwards.

It was very very good.

It left me thinking about when I was kid and dreaming of what I would do if I suddenly aquired a million dollars. It reminded me of all the "what if" scenarios and questions I've heard in mile life, around the topic of unexpectedly coming into a large amount of money.

Who hasn't thought about this, right?

All the things we'd buy. All the things we'd do. All the fun we'd have.

I was left reanalyzing this idea last night. And for no reason, $10 million was the number I played with.

If I currenly, all of a sudden, aquired $10 million, what would I do with it?

My first response was to think that there is no way I could feel like I would deserve that kind of money. Whether it was left on my door step, or I won the lottery, nothing I've done in life makes me think I deserve that kind of money, especially when I am beginning to see the lack in the world today.

So then, what would I do with it?

Perhaps I would give it all to the community I currently live in. But would our ministry, or any ministry, be able to be effective with $10 million in their bank account? Money is clearly not the answer to the place we're in, its actually, mainly the problem. How about any other ministry? Or split between several other ministries? My immediate gut reaction, for a reason I haven't processed yet, is "No". I do not think it would be a good thing to give the money, or split the money between any ministry or person. I think it has to do with the fact that, I would be giving the money to make things better, and if money in a situation is made to make things better, then that just rubs me the wrong way.

Ok, Well, if I don't get it and no one or nothing else gets it, then maybe I make a statement with it. Perhaps I get it all in cash, build a pyramid with it on Wall Street, douse it in gasoline, and burn it all up while videotaping it so it can become a Youtube sensation. Then after that, I write a book on why I did it, and talk about God and Greed and probably politics. But then I'm not sure what I would do with the Millions of Dollars I would make off my book.

So I concede. Maybe I'll just take it after all. Well then I started thinking about what $10 million would mean for my life. I truly think it would make life far less satisfying. While things such as supporting a family and one day starting my own business comes with a level of stress, it also comes with much excitement. I think there is much satisfaction found (And to be found) in working towards these things yourself (Not to say that you should rely on yourself instead of God in life, but I do think that a person providing for themself and God supplying ones needs can be the same thing). With more money than I need, it takes out this satisfaction and excitement from the equation of life. To use a very poor and juvenile analogy, I have played many video games where the goal is to either build up your character into a powerful one, or one where you earn money to build a bigger and better fill-in-the-blank. Both these style of games get to the point where you excel and have so much power/money that you can't even use it all. Its no fun then. The enjoyable part was building up to this point, not the point itself. I would think obtaining a lot of money would be like reaching the end of a video game.

With all that said, I don't know what I'd do. Like I said, I would feel like I don't deserve it, but I would probably find a way to convince myself that I at least deserve to pay off some student loans. And maybe a new tennis racket.

Anyone have any better ideas of what to do with $10 million?

Show me your wounds, I'm tired of mine.

I just realized the other day. I only publish about half my blog posts. Usually I spill myself out and then when I'm done, I no longer feel like posting it. Maybe one day, I'll post 80 unpublished works at once.

I now work at Latte Land in Briar Cliff Village. I love it. Since High School I've wanted to be a Barista. Now, finally, at age 25, I am living that dream. Here's to being a lifetime Barista!

Community is Great. Community is Hard. Community is Weird.

I don't know. I sometimes get really frustrated here . . . it's not the Nirvana (Don't worry, I'm still Christian) that I thought it would be. But when I think of not being here, I realize how much I absolutely love it. Barely been here a month and now I don't know how I could ever not be in community. It just makes so much sense. Who would have thought that life after college can get even BETTER.

Tonight, a fellow Christian Brother from the neighborhood named Roy ate dinner with us. Roy is 61 years old and was recently punched in the eye by a guy he beat in chess.

He beat a guy in chess and the guy punched a 61 year old man in the face.

He now has a couple dozen stitches and his eye is just now starting to open.

Roy is unbelievable. He lives in the house he grew up in, but the house, for some reason, has no windows, plumbing, or electricity. It's basically wood nailed together.

But Roy broke down in tears tonight as he told us that hes known people for 50 years in this neighborhood and they (Literally) wouldn't even give him a glass of water, let alone a meal like we were. Roy gave us so much encouragement about what we were doing in the neighborhood. He said so many things that were such a blessing:

"You can't climb a mountain that is smooth, only one that is rocky" In reference to life.

"What if football players came out and marched around the field for 2 hours saying "We are athletes, We are athletes" . . . eventually you would tell them, "WELL PROVE IT". Thats what Christians do today . . ."We are Christians, We Are Christians" and a neighborhood like this says, "Prove It" and you all are . . . you're proving you're Christians." (This was paraphrased, Sorry for all the Quotes in it. :-) ).

"My Biggest fear is that when I get in line for the judgement seat that I get behind Billy Graham, and that when Billy Graham gets before God, God tells him that he didn't do enough. I mean, its Billy Graham! I'm in big trouble if I'm next!"

"I want to make Lucifers top 10 most wanted."

Bel and the Dragon

So life is good.

The East Coast was great, but KC is better.

I was the last one to move into the church, to complete the 9.

I hope to have a video tour of the church we're living in soon. Its fantastic.

I realized the other day how blessed I am. I am literally living in a mansion with 8 of my best friends, serving the Lord in a neighborhood that needs an example of his kingdom . . . I just pray that we can be that.

Currently there is a bat in our big room right outside of my room. Hes been flying laps and now hes just been sitting still on our wall for about the last 15 minutes.

I found a new favorite band of mine, but I spent about an hour trying to figure out how to put it on my blog like Luke does, but I failed miserably. Therefore you just get a link.

Nathan Asher And The Infantry

Fortunately the song I would have put on is the very first one on his Myspace.

So listen to it and love it.

Blueberry Hill

I hate that blogger won't let you indent. Underscore = Indention



Blueberry Hill


i.

God has fallen asleep in my temple.
Hes taking up space, but I can’t bear
to wake him to leave.
In the alter room,
the fire is dying and the smoke is filling--
The sacrifice consumed.

In the growing darkness he sleeps.


ii.

At the age of 25

I feel like a shell of my old self.

A sunset through a sky full of blackbirds;

_____Stains speckled on a masterpiece.


iii.

Walking up Blueberry Hill, I met a mother
and her daughter

_____Picking blueberries.

“Slim Pickins'” said the mother as
her child added a smile.

Further up the hill, I found blueberries 3 at a time.
I picked and I saved until I had quite the harvest.
In one fell swoop, I took the whole lot.
An explosion of bitter and sweet and rottin’
filled my mouth, making the experience a mixed one.

Swallowing, I looked up and saw the mountains. They glided
over the horizon, my head tilted back to take it all in.

_____What a beautiful God there must be.

Back down the hill the mother and child were sitting in the path as I approached.

“How’d ya come out,” I asked, seeing only a dozen and half had been gathered.

“We ate most of ‘em as we found ‘em. Only good ones. But that's ok."

“Yes it is.”

iv.

God has fallen asleep in my temple.
But hes beginning to dream.
Hes beginning to dream in me
and I can’t bear to wake him.
For why would I wake a
God who dreams
so beautifully?

A Thousand Pieces, A Thousand Sizes

A Thousand Pieces, A Thousand Sizes


I am damp sand
on the high part of a coast
where the water barely
and rarely licks.

I am obscure, never quite dried by the sun;
unable to sift through wandering toes-
I don’t contain warmth and I’m too dry to be moldable;
only good for a quickly crumbled castle-
I am scattered like rubble;

A thousand pieces, a thousand sizes.

I pray that each time
the ocean comes; that each time
it calls its waters back--
I will come loose and go with it.

Grain by grain, may I be
lost in its rapturous waters.