Describe Re-Birth

Temporary?

Refugee brings images of a broken, dangerous world.... A world that I am lucky not to see, here ---> safe in Fort Wayne, Indiana. And yet, we are all refugees to this place.

This is not our home but we could be forced out at any second. Death could claim us at any turn... and those without the hope of new life only see the end. There isn't a beginning to their end.

But we are given a new beginning. A second chance at a life that was created so perfect, in the beginning. A life without any kind of scars... or sin.

It is impossible to remember the truest form of innocence: the day when we opened our eyes to a bright light, of which we had never seen. We could not comprehend the world that awaited us. Time would whether and destroy our purity. To some, that was the beginning of the end. To others, it was the beginning of a journey to an even newer beginning.

So we are reborn. We die to the mess we have made. When we purge ourselves in the water... when we die to our watery graves, staring up at the lights shining through the rippling water.... we return through a filter leaving only forgiveness and grace leaving behind the scars and grime of the dead. We explode into the new day, into new life taking that first breathe, once again. Filling our eyes with piercing lights and our lungs with fresh oxygen and our hearts with innocence, we are re-born.

Describe Re-Birth.

Backfire

We always fall right back,
To where we start.

I don't necessarily get it. Seems like a lot of built up momentum. Maybe too much. With this much weight, this thing is going to tip one way or the other. We still have a lot of defining too. But there are still too many key people in the way. Hopefully there's another plan in the works, one that isn't in our control, but in His.

Currently.

But when I say I'm ok, girl, I miss you.

The World Is Our _____

I'm not really down with this.. at all. I can't really understand where you are going or why you are even going. I know this is something I can't tell you because you are much more "mature" in many ways and I just have to watch it. Well... maybe I don't have to watch it. Maybe I can just ignore it.

But you've always been this way. You get this idea in your head and you just go with it full force. No one can tell you otherwise and all other logic is stupid.

I hope He knows what's right because this makes no sense.

He is not a hero.

I saw a status update on facebook that was both disturbing and hilarious. The status read "(an ignorant person) wants to see the movie Che!" I'm not going to go into all the problems I have with this, just the main ones.

Ernesto Che Guevara is not a hero. He is not a symbol for freedom. He is not a symbol for positive change, revolution. He is all over t-shirts, posters, and banners. His face, not necessarily his name, is very recognizable in our culture. He is a communist. He is a murder. He is a villain. The bad guy.

The band Rage Against the Machine uses his face as a symbol. While I do like their music, I don't agree with their political stance, statements in their music, or the face of their name.

Most people want this thing called change. In the most recent election, one candidate in particular ran his campaign on the idea of change and hope. In fact, when I googled change, the first hit was Change.gov, the Obama-Biden transition. Most people don't understand what comes with change.

There has to be a catalyst for change. In Che's case, it was murder. It was guerrilla war. It was the revolution that caused middle class kids, that were my age, to leave college and bear arms for a revolution that didn't occur. It was a holocaust. It was the cause of hundreds of thousands of deaths.

Pain, suffering, and death. No honor. No glory. No change. Death. The kind where you don't rise again.

Everyone talks about Darfur and the injustice of that hellish place. Rightfully so, but what about Latin America? What about the land south of the united states that's also connected to us?!?!

What will be the catalyst in the United States? I hope it's not the kind of change that occured in Cuba, Russia, North Korea, Vietnam, etc..

The cult of Ernesto Che Guevara is an episode in the moral callousness of our time. Che was a totalitarian. He achieved nothing but disaster. Many of the early leaders of the Cuban Revolution favored a democratic or democratic-socialist direction for the new Cuba. But Che was a mainstay of the hardline pro-Soviet faction, and his faction won. Che presided over the Cuban Revolution's first firing squads. He founded Cuba's "labor camp" system—the system that was eventually employed to incarcerate gays, dissidents, and AIDS victims. To get himself killed, and to get a lot of other people killed, was central to Che's imagination. In the famous essay in which he issued his ringing call for "two, three, many Vietnams," he also spoke about martyrdom and managed to compose a number of chilling phrases: "Hatred as an element of struggle; unbending hatred for the enemy, which pushes a human being beyond his natural limitations, making him into an effective, violent, selective, and cold-blooded killing machine. This is what our soldiers must become …"— and so on. He was killed in Bolivia in 1967, leading a guerrilla movement that had failed to enlist a single Bolivian peasant.

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Should we love Che Guevara?

Viva la revolution?

Carnies and the Sketchy Ring of Fire

Isn't that random?

We dream of ways to break these iron bars

My intent, my purpose, my hope for the world has nothing to do with me. Why do the leaders and the people involved label me as someone with my own agenda? The people that truly know me know that my intentions are pure. That my heart is my calling and my calling is to worship. Worship everything; walking, gazing at the clouds, floating in the night sky, feeling the bass rumble in my chest or the music make my heart race. If Jesus tore down these walls, why did we build these iron bars?

...and all I can see tonight is the half moon shining through the grey sky. The light reflects off these iron bars like a mirror. The concrete is my warden. When can I walk in peace with my brothers? The smell of the wet grass; how I long to exist outside in the rain, running all night long until the fire in my legs forces my hand. How did I get here? How can these jailers watch me suffer with such disdain in their eyes and yet the name of Jesus Christ rolls off of their tongues so easily. They walk around and announce, "Behold, God's light shines through me." This place is so dark.