THE RUCKUS JOURNAL

The fundamentals of the Christian walk, or rather, the following of Christ and His leadership; lead us to the word. Meaning, without a grasp on the words written in the Holy book we have no strength on the inside, no oil in our lamps, no weapons of warfare. All in all we have nothing if we don’t have the word flowing inside of us. Love is obviously the most pertinent part of our faith. However, the shaping and forging of love in our lives comes from a direct revelation and understanding of who God is in the word.

He is always leading us and awakening  hunger for more of His word. I compare it to a child confounded to the boundaries of the playground. A parent like a watchmen, paying close attention to their kid sliding head first down the slide, or audaciously risking getting hurt but smiling the whole time. Lets say that all of sudden the parent of this kid abruptly demands maturity and tells the kid to knock it off and grow up. The kid would most likely be flabbergasted at this request and demand to stay in the comforted place of the playground.

God is not the angry parent but He is wanting to lead us out of childish ways. He longs to mature us in Him, grow us up in Love. We, weak believers with sincerity, want to stay confounded to the playground. We want to(most of the time) just dabble in tepid waters and like the parable of the sower let the seed fall of rocky turf.

God wants us in His word and skilled in righteousness. He desires to feed us “meat” as Paul says. But most of us are stuck in the playground and still learning the basics . This is okay and God is gracious, but there is more that God is offering. 

The Ruckus: We must ask for more of His word. We must ask for the grace to step outside of the playground and “grow up” in the sense that love and putting away childish ways coincide.

Why the Word:

Its is our weapon against darkness. It is our weapon against lusts of the flesh.

It is the stability of our souls. It leads us to God.

And when we are led to God, we gain a growing understanding of who He is. And the knowledge of God leads us on the path of life; leading us to Him always.

More to come on this subject….

Read Ps. 119. Ask for hunger to arise in your heart.

I have attended a few churches in the past months here in Orange County. One place that has left me hungry for more of the word in my life has been an elderly community meeting inside a bar/music coachhouse at  night but a gathering of believers on Sunday mornings. The thing I most appreciate about this group of people is their preaching of the word and of Christ. The pastor is preaching a “What We Believe” series right now. Going over fundamentals of our faith.

I have also become aware of this pertinent question:  how does what I hear on Sunday effect me on Monday. Otherwise what I am hearing is worthless if I cannot pragmatically live it out during the week.

So, here’s where the journey begins. I am going to start redacting and gleaning from sermons that are taught on Sunday but need some jumper cables in the right direction to help walk it out on Monday.

The Holy Spirit is:(all over in Scripture) but here are some basics.

1. Has an Intellect( 1 Cor. 2:10-11). We become aware that the Holy Spirit is the smartest wisest force ever created and is with us always.

2. Has a Will: ( 1 Cor. 12:11; Math. 3:16; Luke 4:18–Isa.61). His will is for us, but his will cannot be forced upon us. Rather, we open our hearts and invite Him in.

3. Is the Spirit of Christ:( Phil. 1:19) Along with emphasizing that we need the Holy Spirit, we also need the revelation that the Holy Spirit enables us to receive the work of Christ and his perpetual sanctification.

4. Is the Spirit of Holiness:( Romans 1:4) As John also says, the Holy Spirit brings conviction of sin and leads us to live Holy and righteous lives. The Holy Spirit is what we want to stay sensitive too.

Now What: Now that we know just four attributes of the purpose of Holy Spirit, we can apply it to our life by simple prayers.

Simple Prayers: Just begin your day with thanksgiving for the Holy Spirit, then ask for strength, then ask for understanding. Read through these verses and ask God to make them alive in you. After doing this in the morning, or whenever is convenient for you; continue steadfastly in mediating.

I pray that the Holy Spirit would be real and present in all of our lives…lest the cross be emptied of its power.

Here we go again. What have I been up to besides spending hours scribbling on pieces of paper with ideas for story and poetry. I have learned the simple truth with writing: go slow and show. Taking time to wrestle over words and dual meanings and everything in you that longs to provoke emotions and significance out of the audience.

I have been reading a lot recently. My favorite read has been Story by Robert McKee. His book is all about understanding the art and craft of creative story telling and mostly how to apply it to screenwriting. Even if you don’t envision writing scripts, read it anyway for its breakdown of writing provocative story.

New words: verisimilitude and panacea.

Other reads: The Catcher in the Rye.As I fade to black I read this story about how ungrateful Holden Caulfield is. And I wonder to myself: why is this deemed an American classic?. It captures teenage rebellion and angst and a whole lot of nonsense. If that’s a classic than so is High School Musical. Why is it so great, that’s my only stipulation.

On the upside: The Choice by Nicholas Sparks has me inspired to write true love stories. This writer known best for The Notebook has the thematic ability to capture what we all long for. To be understood, reconciled and loved and cherished by another.

The Burn: Yes, on facebook burning this city refers to a song that I jammed out to while making videos coupled with some half heavy mental wanna be Underoath fanatics. Just the hockey videos soundtrack. But the burn also refers to burning for Christ and staying ablaze. Not in it for some emotional experiences. Not halfway in. Not plowing and looking back.

He wants it all. He will invade our lives. He will cause a great disturbance as I have said many times on this blog. Burning with the  fear of the Lord is the only way to burn. And in order to keep the flame we MUST read His word, we MUST seek Him daily. We MUST have Him.

Ps. 139 has been in my face about how God’s in our face. Vin Diesel got in Paul Walker’s face in fast and the furious. Nothing like that, rather a prickling of our daily decisions. Where we are on a short leash and we ponder why we prayed such radical prayers or are still praying. God answers those prayers with a merciful conviction where we are almost not allowed to rebel because we know how heartbroken God is over our sin, but how much He is for us.

More to come on this subject…

Track 11, Audra Lynn’s CD Fading…absolutley makes me hungry for the word and for the presence of light to dispel all darkness, for we are not alone. This song is on repeat when I am at home.

For now..good riddance

More than just the ten year anniversary of the Columbine tradgedy. It seemed as if it was just yesterday when I was 13 years old running long distance in track and field when someone came running outside with the tragic news that hostages were being held at Columbine high school. This day bears significance in more than one way.

420

Was it the shots heard around the world

The prelude of bowling balls to preclude

13 dead souls as if video games came

True and killing a ruthless truth, do you

Believe in God, it was your time, some

Took their breath as if it was four twenty’s

Destiny to bask in tragedy or was the world

Blind to the topography since 1971 kids

Been blazing it up like movie acts of

Protagonist sliding into the dark, fading

From the start, meet at the Louis Pasteur

Statue let us stick like super glue to this

Moment in history, leaving detention,

Giving undivided attention to cannabis

Revolution, Robert E. Lee resigning

From the army of years splitting the union,

The divine communion predestining the

Seemingly destruction of the Jewish destruction,

Why the hidden weapon and birth of the

Chancellor of Germany, to genocide words

Beyond tragedy, fate or choice, Michael Moore

Would later educate us for sure, and that little

Hitler, could we destroy what he stands for,

Could we learn from history and this epic

Day so elusively peeling away on the highway

To tomorrow and we’re forced to google the

Significance of why we make such a big

Fuss about 420, I can only see a dim light

In front of me, for now, that’s what has

Been granted to me foir senior ditch day

Might have to wait, for I do not want to

Remain like my society, willing and ready

To escape reality, this is my narrow tunnel

Vision, I am reading and asking, God,

Where are you?

I wrote a poem titled Entertainment a while back and a forthright promise was made to discuss this pertinent issue.

Premise: Our lives as consumer Americans are obsessed with the black screen and the urge to receive the industry of entertainment.

Ruckus: movies confront us with our innate evil. When we consume what the world produces we “can potentially” open doors to darkness.

Solution: Jesus drew the line in the dirt as the pious bystanders gawked at his seemingly irrational forgiveness. to a prostitute in rags(as we are just like her). I am not condemning entertainment. I am pondering why so many believers are unaware(and some are very aware) of the simple slipping away to escape and feast on movies and books so riddled with oppression and humanism. No condemnation but a solution grounded in love. Keeping  in mind that Jesus came in grace and truth.

(more…)

Continuing to talk about poetry and the relevance of writing in general. My eyes are fading but I feel obliged to pass this on to all writers. Patience. Patience and waiting, defining and expressing and forcing zits on your forehead from profusely sweating over your creation, over your expression for the world. The 70 untouchables are only the beginning. For the way of the writer is loneliness as Robert Mckee says. The way of the writer is a quiet life of desperation and recapitulating that veracity to the rest of the world googling for story, googling for someone to say what they’ve experienced and the knees bleeding to capture this succesion. If I can teach what I was born to teach it would be that failure is not an option and not a reality when all you have is the pen pacing at whatever rate you dare to seperate ideas and emotions.

This is my mission, my brand and my scar. What I will carry forever.

The last poem I published marked 70 poems that I have written since December 2007. I scribbled the first few poems down over the summer of 07 in Kansas City but things really picked up when I came home to Cali to visit my family. Receipt paper at work and notebooks full of scribbles have led to 70 pieces of writing that have only begun the desire to produce and replicate story.

Prolific is an adjective that describes me but sort of a blessing and a curse. I wish to express my observations each and every day and sometimes it comes out faster than I’d like. All in all, poetry has become my primary way of expressing my take on life; not just anywhere, but the Orange County way of living. And leaving watermarks on adolescence in Colorado. Facing the fearsome call to….gotta go…more on this later.

My day turned out to be greatness. Here’s my reflection.

Untouchables

Cheesecake our factory,

Our glory, our story developing,

Our phrases that don’t phase us,

But make us better, analyzing

Pain like scientists we seek the

Exits from the bane of all society

Proclaims as the untouchables,

The things we can’t control

Like starving generations of

Hibernation, rubbing hands

Over trash can fire, once an

American Dream to sew, stitch

And rip at the seam, are the people

In need of a clean shower, a warm

Soup but a sudden coup of overwhelming

Love, for the average vagabond goes days

Without sharing one thought or one

Word with another soul, deemed as

A stranger, they would exchange

Our bread warmer for a listening man

Or woman like a farmer alone in the

Dusk of his seeded dirt, to love the

Unloved we are waiting like that

Farmer for a flower to emerge from

The dirt short fused to mud and

Seemingly its quick sand for man

To understand that they are not

Alone

We paced against the wind etching

Out our dreams as no castles for amateurs

Made its flag in our war zone for dreaming

Of impossible untouchables, the realm of

Collectibles, the documents of mistreatment,

We painted the sky a never ending arrow

Bending its bow at tomorrow, for us,

That’s too far away, could we stay here,

Trapped in the dog tunnel we made our

Way home only to unfold more moments,

Untouchables falling out of your pockets,

Blowing candles out, peace signing in the

Mirror, Old Navy making me look like

I grew up here, your hearts I hold dear

To me, for this is my only family, the

One’s that walk and listen to me,

For I don’t even have to utter a phrase

Or a sentence for around them I am

A sponge of gratefulness, I want to

Get strung out on thanksgiving, and

Live this life not as if I am untouchable

Or invincible, for fear can’t keep me up

Tonight, for fear can’t steal another life,

Another day hiding under the fray, for

Wanting to shine brighter than the shiniest

Star, I seek to proclaim that burning for the

Right reasons would make us untouchable,

And for that I am comfortable, willing, able,

For today was just another page in our story.

Conspiracy

It was tears from the first time aroma

Of your love penetrating the pride in

Me to crumple into nothingness at your

Presence so easily dismissed as ethereal

Or abnormal, but deep inside it was real

Beyond anything man could conjure up,

Streaming piano sound of PB preaching

Us into the intimacy conspiracy,

Unproven theory that God had to be the

Instigator, the navigator in high school

Disaster, was it real for my sister, was

It real for my brother, the great disturbance,

The Ruckus of His presence, evading, impeding,

At any given moment, June humidity,

His humility granted to me, car gravity

A hostility, a cringing mobility towards

The majesty, could it be that in these blue

Chairs you hear lists of fears, lists of reasons

For not touching, not the second coming,

Just finding a reason why I’m serving food

To all these people in a bad mood,

Where is God in all that we do, is it possible

For weeping sessions to be our life’s

Progression, our frustration with knowing

Heaven is a minute away,

The world will watch and stay awe struck like

A dump truck emptying out the junk from that

Rag tag shed in the woods, is this our life,

Broken into pieces of desperation in sequences

Of writing as a disease unable to heal for what

I know to be real, its here in these getaway get ups,

And own it moments, brandings and scabbing,

Lessons and addressing new envelopes to the

Only friends who still just sit and listen, wasn’t

Winter Camp that changed our amp, our ability

To listen got clearer and since then we saw sky

Splitting heaven above us, just a tad bit more yeast

To the bread of our satisfaction, summer retreats of

Endless hours of prayer and supplication,

The conspiracy proven true through and through

Each day of simple setting devotion, past just

Retreats and a fire rally,

It was in the tears of hearing His voice

That I had no other choice but to raise

My own voice and demand change,

Demand a blessing, a life to rearrange

Around the heavenly, maybe it was just

Me that bought the conspiracy, that God is

All we got, in action, in thought, in high school

And in not knowing that tomorrow is a walk

In the park guarantee, maybe it was just me

That walked plainly with pad and pen,

Writing a weapon, to remember what he

Has done, waiting in the valley of the unsaid,

Maybe the conspiracy will prove true, if

We stick to Him, He will stick to us, and

Over a lifetime of trust, we will be one,

I say to the conspiracy—be done, intimacy

Has won.

Corner Restaurant

I sit with my back

Against the wall

Silently eating

My meal, thinking

Of the starving

World around me

Clueless like their

Purse full of uselessness

Conventional items to

Brighten and whiten

A dull life, ridden with

The vanity drug to ignore,

To turn up the ipod just a

Bit more and soullessly

Abandon a world  of

Quiet desperation, this

Is what I see, this is what’s

Real

Share my meal with

The lower wheel

Of society, as I am

In the river of pleasure

Seeking my life for

Its hidden treasure.

You’ve commanded all my

Parts of life to lean

Into You, to be You.

Where I go there you are

God of gladness is in the

Holding onto missed meals

And everything unreal,

You bind together the

Brokenhearted like paper

Walls jointed to each other,

Poked holes to let in just a

Teeny amount of light into

The picture, God the fixer,

Starts with a little bit of

Glitter to spark some life

To an oppressed life.

Flip through the checkbook

Take a second look—where’s

The jumping off the cliff,

My body gets stiff

Do you trust the drop off?

Magnify what you despise, it

Becomes no second tries,

Like insistent apple pies

Sliced and auctioned off,

We have shown off for

The masses that what we

Got will change the world.

Our full tummies,

Our bank empties

Out and our fuss

Is about the wine

Going up in price,

The bowl of rice

We might have

To one day embrace

Scraping the tears from

The  inward scrabble game

Of homeless words,

Abandonment to Charles

And the lifetime giveaway

Of first bibles, where is he

Now, is he safe, is he scared?

This is my mission, my branding

Is reaching with the injustice

mailed to me in newsletter

format, wanting sponsorship,

bringing the world to Christ

And his Sonship.