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autoapostle
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Name: Peyton
Interests: ...knowing God, and seeing how He works through every trial, writing songs, singing and playing guitar, lowrider trucks, listening to music, and trying to live out the fact that Radical Faith=Mere Christianity.
Expertise: I can get my truck shining like a mirror, and I'd say that I'm an expert at cuddling up for a nap- I'm told that I give good back rubs, too...
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Nonprofit
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  autoapostle
Yahoo:  autoapostle
Member Since:
3/30/2005
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[Re-post from Sept. 15, 2005]
I want so badly to talk about certain things. I wish I could scream to you all just what is on my mind. There are times when I want to laugh out loud and point out the obvious truths of life that so many people do not get. Sometimes, I want to smile and shout to the world the things I see in Creation. Other times, I simply want to scream as loudly as possible and hide my friends from the pains of this world.
This world is a hurtful place. So many tears have fallen from my cheeks. So many more have fallen from those of my friends. I have seen the worst of people, and how those people effect others. I have seen the Godly commit hellish crimes, and the wicked perform righteous acts, but with no regard for the Glory of God. I have seen the undeserving go through scarring, life-changing events that have forever altered their personality in negative ways. I simply do not understand... I have seen God work so obviously through the darkest moments of my life... Why do others not see Him the way I do? Why is it that people fall flat on their face, and then fall in love with the ground that broke their fall, and their spirit.... I don't know how many of you saw the sunset tonight. If you did, then I would argue from that image alone that there is a God. I can't put this display into words. I do not believe words would do it justice. I could not help but just stare. I was driving, and if my friend hadn't been with me, then I would have stopped and watched this beautiful evidence of the Earth's rotation. Did you catch that? Evidence. We usually think of evidence as some gruesome detail of an even more gruesome act, but this evidence I speak of is beautiful. The fact that people can get up when they fall, an orange, late-summer sunset with purple clouds hanging low, an eye stumbling upon an exact area of sky to witness a shooting star, babies crying and taking deep breaths when born, the way a piece of music can bring tears to your eyes, best friends completing each other's sentences, how Godless ones pray when their life flashes before their eyes, children laughing just because laughing is fun, hearbroken lovers crying and crying because all they can do is cry.... I see evidence of God in everything. Sometimes, it is very hard to see. Sometimes, the overwhelming pain blinds our eyes from the Truth. God was there through our every hurt. God is here, now: our Present Rescue. God is waiting for us in tomorrow, having already rescued us from whatever unbearable pain that awaits us. Yes, you have been rescued. Joy has been poured over you. Why do we forget that this freedom of Joy is only made possible by the blood of Jesus? We have freedom in the name of Jesus Christ, because he died so that our chronic imperfection may be overlooked by a Perfect God. So, Broken hearted people, weep uncontrolably. Lovers, make other people sick with how much you care for each other. Friends, laugh and cry with each other as loudly as you want. Rescued ones, live your lives worthy of the calling you have received, -Peyton
"...prove the sunshine."
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Here is an page from the book I started reading today. I've only made it a few pages in, but I would already recommend it to everyone.
Here's the quote...:
[Referring to the story of the prodigal son: ]
"Some elder brothers never join the party.
Some fathers never throw one.
Some brothers never come back.
Some things never get resolved.
LOTS OF PARTIES ARE MISSING SOMEBODY.
And when we try to resolve things
to quickly or pretend that everyone
is there when they aren't or offer hollow,
superficial explanations ... it's not honest
and it's not right and it's not real.
It's not how life is.
I've heard some people trying to be helpful
in the midst of a tragedy or accident
or death by saying, "That's just how God
planned it," while I'm thinking, "The god
who planned THAT is not a god I want
anything to do with."
Others with far more wisdom and
experience than me have tackled
the "why" questions of suffering.
Here,
in these pages,
I'm interested in another question ...
NOT "WHY THIS?" BUT "WHAT NOW?" "
--- Rob Bell, Drops Like Stars
I think I'm in for a healing and cathartic ride...
______
Peyton
"...because the one we were planning on is gone."
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Occasionally, one needs to express himself in unique and nerdy ways.
I'm just a poor boy
from the deep forest
You're a princess
held in your palace
I climbed the tower
I sneaked past the guards
I swam the moat
to find where you are
Hookshots may fail
and arrows, too
but I'll find a way
to fight for you
Your heart is frozen
but my sword will shine
Loving you is like
being lost in time
The bow will bend
with a flash of the line
I'll be your hero...
Your hero of time
Hookshots may fail
and arrows, too
but I'll find a way
to fight for you
I've been in the bellies of beasts for you
I've been to the depths of hell for you
I've been at the bottom of seas of you
been at the bottom of wells for you
I've climbed the highest peaks for you
I've braved the deadliest desert for you
I've pined in the darkest of forests for you
I've given up my past for you
Hookshots may fail
and arrows, too
but I'll find a way
to fight for you
I'll be your hero of time
Let me be your hero of time
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| “The plaster dented from your fist, in the hall where you had your first kiss, reminds you that the memories will fade.”
Somewhere in my home, hidden in a stack of plastic containers and buried beneath other folders filled with lost words, is a simple binder of college-ruled notebook paper. I can’t remember now if it was a course-notes book or a collection of original songs and poems, but I am reminded of one of its pages today.
For weeks, I wrote the lines and lyrics of songs that daily play like an echoing hall of broken records in the forefront of my mind. The page became chaotic- line upon line scrawled this-way-and-that of lonely, angry, longing, hopeful, devastating, and self/state-descriptive words. It became an image of the turmoil and furious blending of emotion that was spinning and tearing at me mentally, spiritually, and even physically.
“I’m a walking open-wound, a trophy-display of bruises, and I don’t think that I’m getting any better.”
That was then; this is now. I don’t know where that page is…
I am reminded of its existence because I feel my world has revolved to a similar season. When life spun here before, I was weak and immature. I was pulled down and pressed by the weight of the emotional vortex threatening me to implode.
I never did implode…
“Little ones to Him belong. They are weak but He is strong.”
I am reminded of a promise- a simple and beautiful truth, that the strength of Jesus Christ is made perfect in our weakness. Oh, how this has been proved to me o’er and o’er…
Yet, I still feel the psychosomatic, visceral twisting of my gut and the cognitive spiral of thoughts threatening to pull me under. I have fought this spinning for the entirety of my life, and am resolved that it will continue for the rest of my days. At long last, I have decided not to fight. Finally, I have decided to spin. In this end, I choose to acknowledge a lesson from former seasons:
I know that I will not implode.
“There are two things you’ve told me: That you are strong and you love me. Yes, you love me.”
I am fascinated by God’s creation. I am mesmerized by our planet’s weather, and few meteorological phenomena are more spectacular and destructive to behold than a hurricane. Hurricanes are intense low-pressure systems that take the form of colossally large and violent storm clouds that spin around the area of lowest pressure. These systems have wrought apocalyptic damage throughout history. It is odd to think that the driving force behind their existence is a simple concept: balance.
During the northern hemisphere’s summer, regions north of the equator heat to temperatures which contrast greatly with the frigid cold of the Arctic Circle. Our atmosphere does not like this. Our atmosphere wants balance. When the heat near the equator becomes too great in contrast with the cold of the north, hurricanes are formed as a means to deliver moist and warm tropical air to the cooler and drier northern regions. Hurricanes spin and release a massive amount of energy in the forms of high-speed winds and torrential rainfall. The damage they cause sometimes shape the very landscape of Earth.
“He is jealous for me. Love’s like a hurricane, and I am a tree- bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.”
I observe what is taking place inside of me during this season of internal spinning and I feel the energy of the hurricane gaining strength in my heart, mind, and soul. I recognize that I need balance. I recognize that my life needs the horrible pains to be in balance with the purest of joys. I admit that I am too weak to achieve that balance, and I confess that I can’t do it on my own.
I confess that I need a savior. I admit that I need The Redeemer, Jesus the Christ, to take the energy of my personal hurricane and use it to change my spiritual landscape and transfer my hurts and worries away from my body and into his hands. I thank him for doing this for me in seasons past, and I thank him again for never failing to do it again. I pray and give up myself to be shaped, molded, cleansed and given wisdom by this encounter with his mercy.
“Don’t wait, don’t wait. The road is now a sullen sea and, suddenly, it’s deep enough to lay your armor down.”
There is an unfathomable peace that comes from being this close to the Loving Creator- standing in the eye of the storm and knowing that His hand is at work in my life. It isn’t the calm before the storm; it is the calming of the storm. It is Jesus, waking from his sleep, proving His power over the winds and waves that seek to hold us captive in fear of truly living with and as ourselves.
“So, heaven meets Earth like a sloppy wet kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest. I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that he loves us.”
The calmer of storms loves us, and he invites you and me to live.
I remember that page in a binder, lost somewhere in boxes stacked in my home. I think of the pages that I could fill now with similar cathartic releases of emotional words. I feel the spinning, but I’ll let me spin.
I never did implode.
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Christmas is upon us! Cheer is all around! The Spirit of Christmas swells and fills and laughter and singing abound!
Right? I mean, that's what I think is supposed to happen. Personally, I haven't felt it.
I've been numb lately.
But that's not baby Jesus' fault or anything. Don't worry, I'm not blaming him! Baby Jesus...
I've witnessed some beautiful things in the past week.
If you've never seen a kid's face light up upon seeing Santa Claus, then you're really missing out. Twice in the past week, Santa has been at the church, and special-needs classes from around the county have come to see Santa and pick out presents for their parents.
I choked up each time because these children are purely joyful. They believe that Santa is real, and when he tells them that he loves them and he hugs them, they are receiving love in ways they just don't find at home. You can tell it by their faces. Most of them come from very difficult situations, and to see the fear completely gone from their eyes as they laugh and cling to Santa... Well, you feel it in your soul.
I remember when Santa was real. Christmas was different. It was magical! I remember falling asleep by the tree, but waking up in my bed, and finding presents materialized over night waiting for me to unwrap them. Everything was warm and bright. Those Christmas mornings were the happiest time of my life.
When Santa was real, and when it wasn't improbable for reindeer to land on my roof, Jesus seemed more real, too. It was easier to understand a man walking on water, to imagine five-thousand people being fed on a hillside from a few pieces of bread and a couple of fish, to picture Jonah praying from the belly of a whale.
When the miracle of Santa suddenly wasn't real, the other stories lost a bit of reality along with it.
When Santa was lost, so was a bit of the mystery, wonder, and trust that miracles truly could happen to us.
It's been a long time since I've believed in Santa...
But, I believe in Santa this year. I won't ever again question his existence. I've seen how real he is in the eyes of those special kids. I've seen how real he is in the eyes of an old man, alone in his trailer, receiving a gift from an unlikely friend. I've seen how real he is in the life-change of my family in the paradoxical darkest and brightest day of my life.
It's not really Santa. It's the Spirit of Christmas. It's the gift of Jesus- his ultimate, unfailing, invasive, relentless love that can't be contained. In the past few months, I've seen it and experienced it in more of the wildest of miracles and mundane everyday situations than ever.
I'm happy Santa is back.
If you're down, if you're wondering where the miracles are hiding, if you would rather the 12 days of Christmas be spent in a coma, I dare you to find a way to be a miracle for someone else. You'll prove to someone that miracles really do happen, and you'll find out for yourself that they do, too.
And maybe, just maybe, your holiday blues will melt away to Christmas cheer.
I dare you.
Merry Christmas,
Peyton.
... help my unbelief."
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