vagabond

vagabond, originally uploaded by steffaloo.

Steph drew this. She is amazing.
(and also, I miss her)

Jim Cork Burning

Dreamers of the golden dream

Sailing on forbidden seas

Words are so uninteresting

Don’t kiss me; it will trigger things

The conversations we replay

To catch the hints in what we say

The houses we find ourselves in

The games that end when we begin to live

I swear I’m getting out of here

Oh someone drag me out of here

Servant to the matriarch

Sleeping in a burning car

Lovers of the lovable

Respond to the incredible

Blood is thick with medicine

And I am chasing smoke again

Humming some new mystery

Alive inside the history of us

I swear I’m getting out of here

Oh someone drag me out of here

Create in me a grateful heart

Forge it out of twine and tar

Take the dark unusable

And make it something beautiful

And make me something beautiful

And make me something beautiful

And make me something beautiful

And make me something beautiful

A song by Derek Walker. Listen to it on Sky Fidelity.

The Vision

Summer 2001, Ensenada, Mexico with the church youth group- it was our first night there. A guy came on stage and shared 'The Vision'. He said it came out of YWAM London, but no one really knew much about it. (Several years later I learned it was written by Pete Grieg from 24/7 Prayer International.) I think it is safe to say that moment changed my life. The words on that crumpled up piece of paper with the MSN logo at the top seared my brain and my heart. It made my palms sweat and my eyes water. At that moment I wanted to leap from my chair and sing, and shout... and yell... and get a tattoo. From that moment on I was different.

But then I stopped being different. I'm not sure when. Maybe around the time I turned 20 or 21. But I am ready to be different again. It's time.

So here it is. Soak it in. Print it out. Read it again. The Vision.

So this guy comes up to me and says, “What’s the vision? What’s the big idea?”

I open my mouth and words come out like this:

The vision? The vision is Jesus – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.

The vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see an army.

And they are free from materialism.

They laugh at 9-5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn’t even notice.

They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision ?

The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. It makes children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.

Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose, that they might one day win the great ‘Well done’ of faithful sons and daughters.

Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: “COME ON!”

And this is the sound of the underground, the whisper of history in the making. Foundations shaking. Revolutionaries dreaming once again. Mystery is scheming in whispers. Conspiracy is breathing…

This is the sound of the underground.

And the army is disciplined. Young people who beat their bodies into submission. Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. The tattoo on their back boasts “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain”.

Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them ? Can hormones hold them back? Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them?

And the generation prays

like a dying man

with groans beyond talking,

with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and

with great barrow loads of laughter!

Waiting. Watching. 24/7/365.

Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive. Inside.

On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide. Would they surrender their image or their popularity? They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.

With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days, they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)

Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.

Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.

Don’t you hear them coming?

Herald the weirdo’s! Summon the losers and the freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes. They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this vision will be.

It will come to pass;

it will come easily;

it will come soon.

How do I know?

Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God.

My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from countless angels, from hero’s of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.

Guaranteed.

Things I Want to Do in Life Part 1

-Live in a lighthouse in Nova Scotia (or Maine)

-Live in Manhattan

-Live in a cabin in the mountains on a lake with my spouse (and Stella) and chop wood and raise chickens

-Teach English in Korea or Japan

-Take Thai classes at university in Bangkok (and live on the Sukumvit)

Niagara Falls

The voice of the LORD is over the waters; 
       the God of glory thunders, 
       the LORD thunders over the mighty waters.

The voice of the LORD is powerful; 

the voice of the LORD is majestic.

Psalm 29:3-4

How can words even describe?

I am not really sure why I wanted to go to Niagara Falls. I just went. 

When Stella and I came around the bend in the path and I could look down on the falls it took my breath away! I could not believe how beautiful it was!! I saw people in boats at the base of the falls so I asked around and found my way to the Maid of the Mist boat tour. 

It was the best $13.50 I have ever spent.

Waiting for the boat in my rain gear.

I was excited like a kid on Christmas while I waited for the boat to come. I scrambled for the best spot on the boat- right at the very front. Going by the American Falls (they're a bit smaller- major falls, but not the famous one) was awesome, but the Canadian Falls... oh man.

American Falls

As the boat approached the falls the water got more and more rough and it got hard to keep my footing. My face screwed up and I began to cry like I was afraid, but there was no fear in me. I could not hold the tears back as I took in the greatness of the falls.

The boat sat for a minute near the base of the falls. It was all bright white mist, roaring water, freezing water splashing and misting on my face. I could barely stand and couldn't keep my eyes open against the freezing water hitting my face. My face got so cold I didn't think I could stand it for another second. I looked down at the water below the boat all white and frothy and I knew.

I knew that from now on when I read Jeremiah and the Psalms that I will understand them so much better. I saw God there. His power. What it is to fear the Lord. He is so much bigger than even Niagara Falls- He created them! 

The words don't come easy, I can't really explain how deeply Niagara Falls impacted me, but those falls are Holy Ground.

After the falls- I'm soaked!

A Cabin in the Woods

Last night, as I lay in "bed" (it was a car-camping night) trying to sleep, I found myself dreaming of a new kind of life. 

In this life I lived in a small, sparsely furnished cabin in the woods. It has an oversized comfy couch and stone fireplace, bookshelves, a simple bed and little else. The cabin overlooks a lake with a small pier with a little wooden boat tied to it. Above rise high, snow-capped mountains. 

I live in this cabin with my mate. We sleep as late as we want (though we usually rise early) and drink black coffee. We chop wood, swim in the lake and sit on the porch swing we built- sometimes talking, sometimes not. We read a lot and pray a lot in this quiet, simple life. We live pretty far from the nearest town so we grow our own vegetables have a couple chickens. 

In the summer we like to sleep on the porch and count the stars. I think about jumping into the lake spontaneously in the middle of the night, but always chicken out. I don't want to get the sheets wet (but really I am scared of being eaten by a monster).

In the winter I curl up in front of the fire in my cashmere sweater and read while I drink tea. One day soon we will go out and tell the world about Jesus. We'll have adventures and change the world... but for now we are getting to know the God we serve. We are still.

And it is so good.