The Beautiful Bloody Nose

Jumpin' Puddles Smiling Spinning 'round and 'round Holding hands The whole world a blur But you are standing Soaked Completely drenched No rubber boots Running in Want to erupt from a shell Wind in and outdoor smell of your hair I hit as fast as I could With my nose Hopping into puddles Completely drenched Soaked With no boots on And I get nosebleed But I always get up And I get nosebleed But I always get up (Loose English Translation of Icelandic Band Sigur Ros' song Hoppipolla)

Oh to be young again.... Sounds rather silly for a sixteen year old to say that, but think about it. In our culture we are bombarded with the troubles of this world, be it terrorism, false representation, random murder, drugs, sex, robbery, tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, genocide, disease, starvation, tsunamis, the list goes on and on. We may not personally experience some of these horrors, but we hear about them.

Sometimes I wish I could be a small child again, the small child that ran around the back yard pretending I was Tarzan (I wanted to be Tarzan because he could fly through the trees). I wish I still jumped around in puddles with no rubber boots. I wish I could find joy and excitement in just the way everything smells on a cold day outside. I wish I could get right back up after getting hurt. As we've grown older we have stopped appreciating small things. Everything has to be big and fancy, full of lights! We find it hard to look at a rain puddle and think what a perfect way to get wet, instead we think, "Where is the easiest way to get around this puddle, so I don't ruin my shoes." As we've grown older we nurse our hurts, we hold onto our grudges. We stopped remembering that while it hurts for the moment, getting up and ridding ourselves of the pain means we get to play more! You can't jump in puddles sitting down crying over your bloody nose. Wipe it off on your sleeve, the water will wash it away!

The Act of Worship

Worship is often portrayed as being the act of singing praise songs to our Lord. Does music have to build an environment for worship? Can we worship without music? If music were the only way to worship, how fickle it could be! Music has the power to make us "feel". The words and melody invoke pathos within us causing our emotions to react. By creating emotions of awe, praise, and adoration we feel it necessary to pour out from within us this excitement. Because of the power music has over our emotions, and the power emotions have over our actions, I am worried too many people are getting the wrong idea about worship.

Pure worship, would mean that praising God through music is just a symbol of the relationship and faith we have in Him. Singing praise songs to God is just an action. What other actions in our daily life can be equivalent to music?

When a friend invites us to go get wasted instead of saying,"Sure, what time is the party?" could we worship God by saying, "No thanks. A beautiful power, higher than any on this earth, including alcohol and drugs, made my body. I am thankful for this intricate body He made. I will not defile His creation by drinking or taking drugs. Being a bumbling fool does not glorify my Creator. I will present myself a sane, clear minded, beautiful being, not governed by emotion, alcohol, drugs, or a fellow man. I will be governed only by the Lord, for my Creator is the only worthy of praise. He is the only one that governs with love. I am not forced by Him to do anything. Emotion, alcohol, drugs, and men govern only with force. Does that deserve my praise?


He saved and renewed my soul! He created the heavens and earth, He placed pictures of His love around us everywhere! He daily protects me and provides for me! I praise Him for His unconditional love! I have seen how great He is through His action of perfect love, through His death, and I can declare how great He is, not only through song, but by being governed only by Him! By choosing to keep my mind and clean and pure. With every step I take, every thought made my mind, every word said. So thanks anyway, but I won't being getting wasted with you."

Perhaps this is a little too intense for daily conversation, but if I have this knowledge in me, I can worship Him in everything I do. I do not need music to get me in a place of worship, I will use music to express the place of worship within my soul. Because I believe you have to see how great your God is, before you can say how great your God is. "How great is our God?" You tell me, because a song isn't going to tell you.

Brisinger

Some of you may not know about the Inheritance Cycle. Some of you may have heard of it, but totally despise it. Some of you may be like me, and are absolutely ecstatic about the release of Brisinger the third book in the four-part series written by Christopher Paolini. I only have to wait 10 more days till I can read it. I hope it will hold up to my expectations. I was greatly impressed by the first two, Eragon, and Eldest. What makes these books so exciting for me is not the fact that they are fantastical and a pleasant diversion from my daily life, but that they are written by a young man. Christopher started writing these books when he was only 15 a year younger than I am. Thinking about his age makes me wonder what could I possibly do? I am only a year older than him, perhaps I should start writing something on a larger scale than the essays, short stories, and poems I write. Maybe instead of just dreaming up stories, I can put them to paper. I must admit to you, I am somewhat frightened of that idea. Can I do it?

the radical

When we first met you gave me something

I held it in my hand; it was all wet and red

And it moved and I swear

It was a piece of your heart, a piece of your heart

And we spent so much time singing

Silly songs, like this one

But whoever we met you did the same

You gave a piece of your heart, a piece of your heart

One day I came to your house

I came in and I saw you in your kitchen

Well you were baking a cake and you put twelve numbers on its face

And you gave me a slice; oh man was it sweet

And we spent so much time singing

Silly songs; like this one

But whoever we met you did the same

You gave a piece of your time, a piece of your time

And when you sit and speak it's like

A windstorm came and blew away your brain

In a whirlwind of paper and ink

And so many are blessed to have the knowledge you possess

And we spent so much time singing

Silly songs, like this one

But whoever we met you did the same

You gave a piece of your mind, a piece of your mind

Now you're dead and gone

But your memory remains for those you touched

And those you saved, for those you talked to

And those you claimed, your precious family, your precious family

And you'll spend so much time singing

Pretty songs, better than this one

And whoever I meet, I'll try to do the same

I'll give them my life, I'll give them my life