Prologue

“Ya, he’ll be a dawg fo sho.” The gruff voice was the only one heard in the silent ICU nursery in the infant ward. As Carlos stood there watching his newborn son breathe through a ventilator, he determined that his son would soon grow to take his place within the gang.

The hospital was in his territory and the thought of insurance or payments never occurred to him. His lieutenant would take care of everything through their security guard contact. His baby would be able to stay until his condition was stable enough to return to the mother and he would begin instruction at the age of five. Carlos had plenty of children through various women, but this child came from the woman he loved.

“What’s his name?” A nurse said, walking in from behind him.

“Dunno, and it doesn’t matter. He’ll be known by his marks.” Despite knowing the nurse, personally, what was left unsaid was for her protection. He would be known by his distinguishing features - tattoos of identification - and he would be known by his actions left on the city.

To do anything besides leave a mark would make him weak. Carlos didn’t have weak children. Each of them was bred and raised to continue the tradition and mission of the gang. If not, they were cut from the group without so much as proper last rites. His family would be strong - his family was born strong.

One nameless baby born into the world.

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Across the city, in a reputable hospital, screaming could be heard throughout the birthing center. A mother was in the final throws of childbirth and the pain would soon be over.

“Breathe!” A nurse said. “It’s almost over, just stick with it!”

“I can’t!” Screamed Amy. She had had enough. Thirty-eight hours of labor had ended in one long, agonizing delivery process, and she had nothing left to give. “It’s no use, I have nothing left!”

“You can do it,” the nurse exclaimed, “the head is almost out!”

After another five, seemingly-endless seconds, there was a cry that sounded different than all the others. Her baby boy, wet and dirty, had just shouted his first words to the world. As he was fully delivered, the nurse quickly cleaned him and brought him around so Amy could see him.

“He’s beautiful,” panted Amy.

“What will you call him?” the nurse asked.

“If I knew who his father was, I’d give him that name. But I don’t, and it all just seems a waste now.” Amy had gone back to ask each of the guys that she knew she had slept with, but none would say anything to give her much hope. As she sat silently in despair, she contemplated any reason for continuing on.

“She’s losing a lot of blood!” the nurse shouted into the hallway, trying to attract more attention into the room. They were so busy and short-staffed, so any help that she could find would be distracted. She quickly ran into the hall to get a doctor, but as she returned, there the baby lay, silently on his mother’s still chest.

Another nameless one.

Onions and Roses

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

- Juliet

Names are important, but so are definitions. While some, like me, are just simpletons, others are more complex, and take time to figure out. To truly know someone is to help define who they are. We use analogies, diagrams, symbols, pictures, and many other forms for classification, but they are all just small parts to the larger whole.

This weekend we had our purity for life conference at church. It was designed for our teens to learn and grow in their walk with Christ by making a commitment to remain sexually pure. During some of our discussions, a number of questions came up (some more wonderful than others), but they all came back to the same thing: what is LOVE? Being single, I have only one perspective on loved; but it will hopefully be valuable to the other singles reading this blog.

Love is the undivided commitment to someone and engagement in knowing who they are at an intimate level.

No, I'm not sure that you will find that definition in the Bible. It just happens to be mine...I don't, however, think that it's unbiblical. A marriage has undivided commitment, but will only last if there is engagement in the relationship.

But love gets back to the idea that you are dedicated to that person, no matter what you find when you uncover rocks...right...? I mean, when I remember Pappy's statement, "Bryan, I would've divorced your grandmother a thousand times over, if..." and it makes me think that there were a lot of gross and disgusting bugs under the rocks of their marriage. But they were willing to overcome them.

Poetry and flattery are one thing, and if it helps the relationship, then use them. But wouldn't truth be more important? I guess there has to be a balance of honest discourse with unadulterated fun, otherwise only the pragmatists would have babies.

Despite this, I think there needs to be more honesty. If a person smells like a rose, then call her by that name. And if she's complex, then call her onion.

Make it a Good Fairy Tale

I can't stand it when one event in life makes the whole fairy tale collapse. I mean, what's the point of the fairy tale in the first place? To inspire people to think larger than life!

Since when do princes get everything right? Every prince that I know has failed at one point or another. In fact, they probably get it wrong more than the get it right, and yet they're still known as being the good prince.

If you take each of the Disney stories, even the ones where the prince seems shamelessly perfect, you will realize that he can never actually be that way; however, if you take him for what he really is, a prince coming to the rescue, then I think there can be some value in his valor.

We know that "amazing" stories are told, because the rest of us want to have something to live up to; but isn't it time for us to make our own fairy tales? How many of us are waiting in the window for something to happen, when we really should be out in the streets living life! Go be the prince or princess that you were created to be! Make your own fairy tale and don't let the negatives dissolve your dream. Be the flower that you were meant to be.

Karma, neh?

The idea of karma was brought up this week as someone mentioned, "that's karma." I know that a lot of people talk about karma as if it's a real thing, but I don't believe that it is.

Karma, as I understand it, is what some people believe is "payback". When you do certain things in life, whether good or bad, you will receive a reward that coincides with your acts. If you do good things, you will have good things done to you.

It seems to me that the idea of karma was created from a need to understand guilt. People live with the general understanding that there are rules that we live by. Whether they live in harmony with the Bible or some other code of conduct, they understand that there are good and bad actions. When we believe that there are approved methods for living, we feel guilty for not following those rules. By believing in karma, people find ways to justify their actions; if I do enough good things, they will outweigh the bad.

The reality, however, is that good or bad, we aren't judged on man's standard, but God's. If we don't live up to God's standard, then nothing else really matters. What we see as karma is the idea that when something happens that we deserve, we have a way to explain it. Isn't it possible, however, that when something happens that would be deserving, that it could just be part of life? I mean, we are hurt by people all of the time and yet when someone hurts us, we think that it's karma. Isn't that just part of life? When we speed in the car and then eventually get a ticket, it's not karma...it's just us getting caught.

I think we should stop trying to explain everything away and just accept the fact that life happens. When we get in trouble, it's an effect from us doing something wrong. So rather than expecting that it will affect what happens to us in the future, we should just accept blame and apologize to God.

No Greater Honor

Tonight, I saw God breathe life into a new creature. He had been living for 16 years before, but it wasn't a viable life. After he had decided that giving his life to Christ would completely change his life, he said to me, "Bryan, I owe you big time." At the time, I realized that I couldn't convince him that he owed me nothing, but I have faith that, in time, he will realize that I do what I do, because I love Christ.

I get a paycheck as a youth minister, but no amount of money can repay the feeling of leading someone to Christ. And leading someone to Christ never grows old. I can tell someone the plan of salvation in my sleep, but when they have the "aha" moment and God is able to speak breath into their life, I cannot help but feel the elation.

There is no way that he, or anyone else, can repay me for a moment in which I was but a witness. Christ renews Himself to me through moments like this, moments in which His covenant is played out. To be in pursuit of anything other than these moments is to practice futility. And, the very definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again with the same results: futility.

I intend to not let that honor go to waste.

Do the Unexpected this Time

I was waiting at a stop light, while on the way to Grandma's for our annual Thanksgiving luncheon, when I noticed a man and his son in the corner parking lot. The both got out of the car and slowly walked to a check-cashing store. The father pulled on the door handle, but when he realized that it was locked and they were closed for business, he turned to the son with a sigh. They both shuffled back to the car as they discussed what they would now do, since they wouldn't be able to get a cash advance.

As I waited there, still trying to get warm in the car, I was reminded of an incident in my life, in which I had met my limit with the bank (I love hearing the words "insufficient funds") and had to be turned away, because the store didn't take credit cards. Fortunately for me, I had the cash that I needed at home; but what about the man and his son, who dejectedly walked back to the car?

It seems that, in the holiday season, most of us are walking hurriedly to accomplish some task (gift shopping, grocery shopping, decorations shopping, etc.), and throughout the entire length of the holiday season, we completely lose track of time. In fact, last night, I had the amazing opportunity of administering my very first solo communion service, and I reminded the congregation that we cannot rush through it - we are charged with remembering Christ. And yet, that very night, as soon as church was done, I was rushing to the very next thing - I still had an agenda to complete.

This year, I challenge you to do the unexpected. Slow down your life and consider the God who gave us everything that we need. I can only postulate about the situation of the man on the street corner, who couldn't get a cash advance, but it seems that his time for payment had finally come. Rather than finding yourself with "insufficient funds", do the unexpected and life life for something other than money.

My family started a tradition a couple years ago that I hope we continue to observe: not giving gifts. Rather than trying to figure out how much money we're going to spend on each other, we spend time looking for an organization that could use the money more than us. This year, there is an opportunity to give young women a Christmas party in Thailand. Women, who are purchased for sex every evening, will be purchased for a Christmas party. For some of the women, this will be their very first Christmas. They will hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ, perhaps for the first time, and will have an opportunity to feel love, rather lust. Imagine the transformation that can take place in their lives, because someone decided to help them, rather than help themselves.

If you have it within your ability, do something for someone else. That's what Jesus did. As much as I hate to repeat fad, the phrase, "What Would Jesus Do?" is really quite appropriate. How did He give His life for you? In like fashion, give your life for someone in return. I guarantee that your life will be transformed, when you allow the unexpected to happen this year. Try it!

The Suckerfish Saga

A requirement of maintaining one's tank is that he/she also takes fish out that do not like to play nicely. The following is a story about a fish that would not play nicely...

So I says to Myself, "Myself, you really need to do something about that suckerfish. He's constantly harassing the other fish and he's grown too large for the tank."

Myself responded with, "How are you going to get him out (assuming he's actually a him and not a her - not that it really matters)?"

"Well," Self said as he looked pensively into Myself's deeply wondering eyes, "I don't really know. Alls I know is that I have to try."

And with that they began cleaning out the tank. On the first day of cleaning, the main priority was getting the tank operating at an optimum level. If they didn't catch the suckerfish on day one, that was OK. But by day two, if they didn't net the suckerfish, there was no way they would continue the project. It had to be that day.

As day two approached, Self and Myself were frightfully anticipating the imminent battle that was to occur on the high seas. Knowing that there was only one day in which they could complete the task, they threw everything in to planning and scripting how the battle would unfold.

At dawn, at the cusp of the terrifying moment, the anticipation of what lay beyond was almost too much to take in. The two young men marched into the room of terror to face their destiny. One grabbed the fish net, while the other took up a very nice, slightly used plastic pitcher that was previously used for making Kool-Aid and pink lemonade. Forward they went, knowing that their lives depended on catching the fish.

For what seemed like an eternity, but was probably more like two hours, the battle was played out. Strategically they fought the fish, while he knowingly avoided capture. When it seemed that he was on the verge of giving up, the boys gave a last-ditch effort to try and sack the elusive scoundrel.

Out of no where, the fish magically appeared in the net of Myself. Some say that Poseidon, himself, was the reason for the capture. Others insist that the fish gave up. Regardless of the reason, he was caught. His day had been marked and he would be no more.

The funeral dirge began playing as Self and Myself began hauling the bucket that contained the sukerfish to its final resting place. The march seemed interminable, but -

There was a plop on the ground! As Self and Myself looked into the bucket of refuse, they noticed that the fish was gone. Quickly, with palpitating hearts, they scanned the floor to find the suckerfish. With great speed, they found him and attempted to recapture him, but he hung tenaciously to the tile floor, sucking to save his life. The boys, however, were the victors, knowing that the suckerfish had little life to which he could cling. Again, they continued their slow, but steady march to the porcelain tomb of the suckerfish - the burial ground of its ancestors.

Upon entering the tomb, they quickly proceeded with dumping the fish down the toilet, knowing that to rid him from their lives, they could not wait any longer. As they kicked the toilet's flush-extender handle thing, they suddenly realized their error in judgement. He was a suckerfish and he was NOT going to go down the drain. The boys started sweating as they, again, kicked the toilet's flush-extender handle thing, but it was to no avail. The fish hung on for dear life.

After the third flush, they realized that a man was quietly sitting in the tomb next to them, listening to their hurried actions. Knowing that they could save embarrassment if they hurried, they ran out of the restroom and back to their discarded weapons. Self grabbed the pitcher, while Myself grabbed his trident. Running back, they hoped that the fish had lost all hope and released his grip on life; but upon reentering the tomb, they realized that it was a false hope.

Quickly scooping him out of the tomb they, once again, saw the quiet man's shoes. Not wanting to be found out, they left the tomb with all speed, never to return with another suckerfish. Not wanting to continue the agony, Self and Myself decided that the fish's life must be ended. They discarded him into an undisclosed trash can, never to see him again.

Life changed for the boys after that day. They were proud and strong, but they had learned an important lesson for life: know your enemy.