On Human Suffering

Lately I've been encountering quite frequently the question of theodicy: if God is all powerful, all knowing, and good, then why is there so much suffering in the world? How could God let His people of Israel- Jews- suffer in the Holocaust possibly the worst pain in human history? How can God take just-born babies or beloved innocent children from their good and loving parents, left to mourn their losses for the rest of their lives?

Why pain?

Does God feel pain? Does He need for us to feel it in order to understand what He feels so He can better connect with us, be needed by us, and have us grow more like Him?

Do we need to feel pain in order to grow more wise and humble, to know what happiness is, or--the most feared of all possibilities--to be disciplined?

With each possible explanation of why we suffer, there implies a different way of viewing God. If we feel pain because of our sin, we see Him as disciplinary. If He lets us feel pain because He wants us to sympathize with His pain, we might see Him as incomplete or needy.

To know why we suffer, we must know who God is, and this is impossible to know or ever conceive. I don't claim to know who God is, but I do know that He wants us to love each other, and in doing so, He can better love us. And loving us is all He wants to do-- He doesn't need our love. The meaning of life is not to love God, but to be loved by God through each other.

Suffering, then, is perhaps God's way of letting us reach out to one another in the most humble and selfless way possible. Being with someone in his or her suffering- taking part of that burden onto one's own shoulders in empathy- is one of the greatest things we can do for a fellow human being. Truly feeling someone else's pain- a very small part of it (for that is all we are able to feel, if any)- connects us to our human community in a way like no other. Of course, we all share in each others' emotions on a daily basis. But sharing in someone's happiness, for example (or trying to do so- we regularly fail at this), often leads to jealousy or resentment. It is so hard for one human being to feel genuinely happy for another's good fortune. One often winds up jealous of the other's fortune or wishing to somehow take part in it. I believe, then, that in selflessly sharing someone's suffering, there exists no trace of pride or jealousy. And perhaps, at least in a small way, that is one reason why He lets us suffer.

God needs us to need each other.

"One of the great revelations of space exploration
is the image of the earth, finite and lonely
bearing the entire human species
through the oceans of space and time."

-Carl Sagan

The Mind that Perceives Itself

I have spent much of a weekend in splendid isolation, inside my beautiful apartment and the confines of my own mind. I cannot understand those who must always have people around them... how will they know themselves? I relish my time in solitude, so long as it is interspersed with human interaction and will inevitably end at some point. But my point is that we are constantly bombarded with stimulation from the outside world, and when do we have time to process it? My brain must work rather slowly, because I am easily overwhelmed if not afforded sufficient time to think about something that has happened, and its implications. How else could one learn?

At any rate, I sit here in solitude and wonder. Do I exist? Things only exist as people perceive them in their minds, and if there is no one here to perceive me, then well... what am I? I suppose I could be anything, I must just wait for someone to perceive me and tell me what that is. Or even if I'm here at all. One might argue that I am perceiving myself, but I would be doing this with my own perceiving device-- my mind. And let's not define a thing based only on itself. Could I really say, My mind exists because I perceive it with my mind? Such an argument would not be credible.

Which brings me to the point of schizophrenia: Are people who speak, apparently to themselves, but are responding to "voices" in their heads- are they the product of isolation? Of having no one there to validate them of their existence? Must they have someone, something with which to interact in order to prove that they're the person they think they are? Perhaps their minds are just trying to perceive themselves.

Home is Nowhere

My memories are like the Wailing Wall--

they are all that's left of so many people I never wanted to say goodbye to.

All I can do is cry after them

and try to imagine a life not constantly marked

by a stopwatch in an invisible hand.

I am running as fast as I can! Every moment feeling the pressure of trying to make things matter; make something count and anything important...

Will anyone remember this fleeting, frenzied soul?

It seems those I don't want to forget do not share my urgency,

but they do not know as well as I that most relationships end at goodbye.

I live in a different time zone, accelerated to a level of frantic unrest that no one should have to fathom.

People think I'm in a hurry,

and I am.

I want to make impressions on hearts.

Sometimes I want to settle down!

Sometimes I want not to leave what is good.

I depart the station as the train arrives.

I'm writhing in pain.

Dear Africa, will I see you again?

Have you forgotten me, Belgium, though I spent precious years with you? Do you remember that last day we shared, when I gripped tightly your grassy earth and prayed not to be pulled away?

Kansas, Kansas my contempt for you grows

but I desperately need Missouri.

San Francisco, New Orleans, Cape Town, Soweto, Chicago, London,

Charleston! I plead with you to take me back and take me in. Never let me go.

I cry out for all my stillborn friendships.

Parts of me have died! Have been left on far corners of the wide earth.

I wear black to mourn my future losses.

I have no one. Home is nowhere.

A Hard Rain is Sure to Fall

“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, since that is the end of all mankind, and the living should take it to heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2).

I am no more abruptly saddened than when something good happens to me. Following every peak is an inevitable decline, and everything good will come to an end. I would sooner live a stoic existence, because if I never had reason to be elated or excited, I would never feel disappointed. I wouldn’t know the happiness I was missing, and wouldn’t have anything to compare to its absence once it was inevitably gone. For example, when I am excited about my feelings for a guy and his feelings for me, my excitement quickly turns to doom once something finally happens between us. I know that it can end in nothing but sadness. I will have to leave and go back to school (or, leave school and come home again), and suffer the misery of pining. Or even worse, I will discover that I don’t like the guy as much as I thought (or vice versa), leaving me let down, confused and disillusioned. So it is better for me not to become attached to anyone or anything, anywhere I find myself. Ecstasy makes normalcy feel like death, and happiness is fleeting, so I am better off maintaining constant sorrow—it is the only sure thing in life. After all, life is fleeting, and the only things worth doing on this earth are not done for this earth at all, but for the house of the Lord. Everything on Earth is futile, and only things done for the Kingdom of Heaven will bring true and abiding happiness.

Some Clear Nights, I Have all the World

...I remember one time

the world looked so perfect that I wanted to open wide my mouth

and eat it whole.

--To feel its texture on my tongue, to taste the trees flavored

with the berry sunset, that deep red wine...

and cinnamon of the upturned dust of that distant gravel road.

Up here on this high, hill-topped porch,

I can see to the end of the earth!

And- should I descend to lay on my back-

all our galaxy above.

From end to end, the sky is mine...

and I get a glimpse of heaven

through all those tiny, glistening holes.

On Lawrence, KS

Oh, melodious city!

I breathe in your beat and walk in your waves.

Kansas’ welcome mat;

your tune is vibrant, your people free.

Your walks meet constant feet of angel-headed hipsters,

guitar-strapped backs,

up and down Massachusetts Street,

seeking music and a drink.

Homeless seek shelter in your friendly sidewalks;

you are forgiving.

Yellow sunshine motley city,

jayhawkers for the free state

to educate, stand firm, and liberate.

A bird eats breadcrumbs off my plate.

Gentle, unflinching finch

and me, together enjoying the oasis—

The Art of Losing

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

it’s the only thing I know how to do.

I lost my home to come here and swore

to leave in a third

of a calendar year.

There is nothing I will let myself love;

I will soon only see it gone.

So now that he's what I am thinking of

I must make myself move coldly on.

And though on this porch

I can see to the edge of the world

and watch the sunset until 10 p.m.,

I must blow out this hopeless torch

and leave

(and try to forget about him).

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

it’s the only thing I know.

First bitter—then numb—

then letting go.

When We Speak in Comfortable Sentences and Muted Tones

I wrote this poem a long time ago, and sadly, I have never (and will never) show it to the person I wrote it for.

You are

The caramel syrup on the whipped cream on my coffee.

You are

Daylight Savings Time—

The good one—

You know,

When you get extra sleep, not less.

You are

The “A” on that paper I didn’t

really think I deserved.

You are

The song I don’t tire of.

You are my external hard drive with extra memory,

and also

That fortunate umbrella

I happened to have with me

that one time it rained

when no one thought it would.

My winter flannel,

You are

that one perfect sweater,

soft and warm

that I found buried in the sale racks,

waiting for me, just my size.

You are

the leather bag I carry everywhere;

With it’s wonderful familiar smell.

Like the distant scent of home.

You are a comfortable chair,

like the ones at the movie theater where you can just sit and enjoy

a good movie, you are

a safe place to rest my tired eyes.

You are

that favorite childhood book

with its well-learned pages

and its memories of a kind of contentment

I haven’t felt

since 12 years of age,

but that you help me to remember.

And like those gentle naps in the quiet light of the

Autumn afternoon,

You are the rest that delivers me,

whole,

through a long night of painful study

in the library

far from home, but safe in the functional hut

you’ve built for me

in your restful heart.

It's all crazy! It's all false! It's all a dream! It's alright.

“God doesn’t call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we will be in trouble if He doesn’t come through.”

-Francis Chan, Crazy Love

I will be in trouble if God doesn't come through for me. But for once in my life, I am not worried about the future at all. It is not my burden anymore, my life... it's God's. For as long as He needs me on Earth, He will keep me on Earth. And if I just listen to what He's trying to tell me, my life will fulfill its purpose. So what reason would I ever have to worry? Some might believe that giving everything up to God would make them too vulnerable, but can we really afford not to give everything up to Him? The way I see it, the only way I can be absolutely certain that God will provide for me everything I need on Earth is if I am doing His work. If I depended on someone to do a task for me, I would make sure that he or she was well fed, able, and comfortable enough to carry out the task. How could I depend on someone who wasn't physically able to be dependable? So it is with God. How could he let us starve while we are working for Him?

My whole life I have known that God made me to do something great. So has He made all of us! For some reason I have always carried with me the inexplicable notion that someday I will be doing something... dangerous and unimaginable. But I know that just the act of living is dangerous. Everyday it may feel "dangerous" to let God be in control-- but I like this feeling! I don't want to be comfortable. I want to be radical. God doesn't conform to society, so why should I? And is it even possible? I realize now that by living life radically for God, something unimaginable will happen-- whatever God wants. Just the sheer act of giving up control means that whatever happens will be unimaginable, at least by me. Because what I imagined my life looking like is NOT going to happen. And I'm so relieved! I no longer have to worry about my shortcomings or how I'm going to get where I want to be... Now that I don't want what I wanted, I know that God will make sure what HE wants happens. And I'll be fine. I'll be better than fine. And though I thought I was going to feel uneasy about changing my life course for what I think God wants, the truth is that I have never felt such peace in my life. And that's how I know it's right.

The Almighty Speaks

"Don't forget what I have done for you,"

He says.

"I have been with you all your life, and walked with you many years.

Will you so quickly turn from me and go another way?

I will claim you only so long as you claim me."

"But look at this, and that!" I reply. "These people say these wonderful things, and they are kind and have beautiful music to sing!"

"But my music is the most ancient of them all, and the most true," He says. "It has always been in your heart-- you have sung it to the heavens! Never doubt the music inside you-- I have put it there; it is me.

Never forget all I have said to you when we talked. Whenever you have called on me, I have given you words of love, and you spoke them to my people.

Remember always how you have seen me, even in your dreams. Can you doubt the symbolism?

Wine pours from their lips, but don't their prayers feel shallow? I give you the world! Remember the peace, joy, and freedom I give you for your prayers. How free I have made you feel! Don't let yourself be trapped along with them.

Remember what I have done for you, and all the love I give.

Now, hasten toward me!

The New Jerusalem will reward you for infinity."

Last Camp, Botswana

This trip has accessed every corner

of my soul, breached

the farthest reaches of my heart and

mind to

reveal

untouched desert, depleted

farmland and

traversable mountains.

It has overturned forgotten

soil

and every overlooked rock of my history and

consciousness.

I have become the reverse

tragedy of modernism--

pulled

from the fury and hurry

of "progress" and

placed

back in time

to simpler years without hours...

only moments

in the sun-marked days.

Nxai Pan, Botswana

As I circle the salt pan,

the sky unfolds before me--

a vast and humbling plain

portending magnificent shows

of color and light and sound--

the last and final cry

of the wild African day--

harsh, primal, unbridled--

the ultimate authority,

exhibitionist, proud sky.

I am less afraid than amazed,

more reverent than amused.

And as I walk my feet

leave prints next to the elephants'.

With the Namibians

They are all about relaxing--

slow-walking, sitting, talking.

Find shade 'til the sun goes down;

its course through the sky

makes mobile the sitting shadow.

Heat of the day makes you want to die

(and the house is even hotter--

you can't step foot inside).

But when the stars come out,

and all through morning

the world is so tame...

Sun strikes without warning,

but night is slowly ushered in by it's beautiful exit.

The colors of its setting ask forgiveness.

And then everything is right again

around a fire, laughing, singing...

until dawn threatens day.

New Orleans

I just finished watching The Princess and the Frog, and am amazed at how accurately it captures the essence of New Orleans! I was just down there a couple weeks ago for Jazz Fest, and I fell in love with the place. It reminded me of my favorite cities: Charleston and Cape Town. And now I think it deserves to be the third in that list. New Orleans is just so... free. There's a reason they call it "The Big Easy:" people are there to take life easy and just want to enjoy themselves.

Walking down Bourbon Street in the French Quarter, there is a striking contrast between old and new: beautiful, ancient French architecture and the modern, vibrant nightlife that stays jamming until 4 in the morning. But the colonial-style backdrop somehow so gracefully complements and nurtures the late-night sin of the Quarter's famous scene... And this merger of the times is the epitome of the city. As I look up, I'm careful not to have a strand of shiny colored beads fall on my face, thrown from bar-goers on balconies who've managed to hang them from lamp posts, phone lines and street signs. All the indoor life seems to spill out into the streets, moving from cajun restaurants to jazz clubs and hovering from wrought-iron balustrades. Somehow, it just feels... safe. Maybe it's the warmth and comfort afforded knowing that everyone around you is that friend who wants you to have a drink; no one means any harm. Maybe it's the ease with which I can follow my ear down Bourbon seeking jazz and find as much music as I can handle, plus the most amazing food I've ever tasted. Everything is right there at your fingertips!

The food I had in New Orleans... Unforgettable. Fried green tomatoes, shrimp, crab, alligator pie... Gator on a stick, even! Sounds bad, but it's oh so good. The bold French and southern flavors mix as their cultures have, and the result is bursting with symbolism.

The city is drenched in color and life, steeped in sin, and shrouded in mystery. Magic shops and voodoo dolls startle, but remind of its history. (Incidentally, the city was founded on strip joints and dive bars-- it was a port for French sailors to rest, relax, and recuperate... and have a little fun. Not surprisingly, it seems still to serve the same purpose for some.)

Leaving New Orleans was hard for me, but I'm sure I'll darken its door once again. And I'll leave you with something I overheard a man saying on a New Orleans street: "...Even when you f**k up here, you still can't do bad."