i d k

I don’t know, I just don’t know. A common enough refrain in today’s post-everything culture, where it’s uncouth to be reasonably sure of anything. Culture is chock full of silly-strings and superstrings alike, thus it’s the “in” thing to push knowledge out and lament our lack of surety. Ecclesiastes’ Preacher is pretty sure we won’t figure it all out.  In fact, he believes we’ll never know the full scope of true reality in this fallen world. But, that doesn’t stop him from searching. In the end, we’re told to ask, seek and knock… in hopes of one day obtaining.

t m o s r

The myth of self-rescue. Everyman fancies himself a bootstrap man, one who invariably pulls himself up by his own proverbial boot straps. At one time or another we all pretend the part of Donne’s “island” and Descartes’ thoughtful “ergo sum”. To be respected, thought well of, even fashionably humanitarian seems the renaissance of postmodern man. Albeit with one hidden caveat, a lie. I can rescue myself from my worst enemy: me. Let it not be said of us, friends, that we are who we are by our own doing, merits or greatness, but by the grace of God alone.

t b f a e

Former NYC Mayor Rudolf Giuliani quoted from Ecclesiastes 3 in the speech he gave today – on this 10th anniversary of 9/11 at Ground Zero. The solemn words about times and seasons, that Solomon penned roughly 3,000 years ago, gave a sense of serenity and stability in the face of senseless terrorism a decade ago. Solomon, the “wisest man who ever lived” went on to write of man’s inability to grasp all that God is busy about, and how man’s limited perspective causes him to grapple with the tension between finiteness and eternity. Eternity – now that is a healthy disposition for our times.

g w o g

gathering without gain, discovering holes in your pockets on a rainy day, while storing it up, you found it hard to hold on to along the way. a sense of senselessness now entwined with it. getting more and more really got you nothing. becoming greater and greater had no end. and in the end, it was just smoke and mirrors, working inside a house built with hardship and pain. your only pleasure came from doing good work, reflecting on having given yourself entirely to it. even that didn’t last, it’s all impermanent. this is the work God gives to man.

t t t t e

Tethered to this tired engine – once wound up its winding down – all these gears are tired now too, giving up their spinning round. Constant filling but never filled up, tearing down but not to rebuild: every sense of satisfaction just a flight of fancy, can’t even muster the breath to lament. Vanity, vanity says the preacher rightly, there’s nothing new under this sun.  What unhappy business God occupies us with, striving after wind but never attaining. This must teach us something, namely, only the Maker can reset His engine: we yearn for Him to make all things right.

k i s k i s

“keep it secret, keep it safe.” that was gandalf’s admonition to a young frodo baggins – who then took the one ring and tucked it safely away, out of harm’s way. what in our lives should we keep so secret and safe? what in this life is so precious, so intimate, so deserving of being cloistered in places where moths, rust, decay and the like can steal it away?  what do we own that cannot be given? that which is truly valuable enriches the giver most. the gospel, love, forgiveness – all these things make us wealthy when we give them.

i y d d

is your discontent divine? are we (always) supposed to be fruitful and fulfilled at the same time? can we (always) be in our element, our niche, our sweet spot? dare we grasp to attain to that? the answer is “maybe”. it seems the Divine Gardener is concerned not just for our welfare, but that we fare well in His garden. this life is His life. so He prunes, disciplines, chastens. why? because sometimes restrictions, dead ends, and wastelands are just training fields for our later freedoms, highways and lush valleys. maybe your season of mal-content is heaven sent?

k p w t c

http://vimeo.com/23605852

keeping pace with the current is an arduous task; the river is consistent and relentless. the constant barrage of thoughts, feelings, ideas, tasks, responsibilities, and distracting desires keeps us focused on the future – dislocated on the now. this is so often the case that we rarely have time to consider and resolve our present reality and predicaments. this lack of circumstance-reconciliation, combined with the absence of reverie, and never fully rectifying the static in our circumstances, renders us alien to our own souls. how much of the anxiety we endure is just heaped turmoil from the constant current’s stream?

t s o t

ticker tape, telegraph, speed of thought: the pace of life is tough and does not let up. but with that kind of speed sprout haphazard things, things neither desired nor foreseen. no one wants to draw back though; editing and pruning are dreadfully taxing. it’s full speed ahead or not at all, right? but, ‘damn the torpedoes’ only works so many times before you’re caught off guard, hit between the eyes. the crux is this, much like every gardener knows, when such wayward limbs weigh us down – draining our vitality – they’re best removed straightway. its the shears or your life.

a d l

about doing less. much of our culture is obsessed with doing work and getting things done. while i’m a huge fan of GTD and other systems (you see, i too am a process person at heart), what i find is that doing more actually leaves me with less. less time for things that really matter, less time for engaging dreams, and definitely less time for dreaming. instead of cramming it in, pulling back to breathe, think, and reflect along the way may cost a little more of my time, but truly gives me more in the end. try doing less.