doesn't get old no matter how many times he sings it

small view

about two years ago after a long weekend of camping, a few friends and i loaded into my car and drove down to east la to hear a rising politician speak. i had seen barack obama speak on tv a few times. there was decent chatter about the senator for illinois, but i myself did not know too much about him beyond what i had read in his book. i was told the rally was in east la to see if obama could truly appeal to a larger audience. we all packed into the outfield of a high school baseball field and waited in anticipation. i stood next to a small, rounder older lady. she was wearing jeans,  jean jacket and had mardi gras beads strung around her neck. she wore dark black sunglasses and her dreaded hair was tucked into her oversized hat. in her hands, she held two barack obama books. she exuded joy and excitement, barely able to stand still and telling everyone around her who they were about to see. when barack did come onto the stage, she fumbled her tiny camera into my hands.

"take a picture, son! please! i can't see barack now, but i want to see him later. for now, i will just listen."

at 6' 3, i can usually see stages without a problem. today was no different and i snapped several pictures of barack, speaking in his signature look: white collared shirt, tie and sleeves rolled past his elbow. he announced that he would run for president in november 2008. i listened to his words and thought how far away november 2008 seemed. could this actually happen? for a good part of the primaries, i was living in differents parts of the world and saw some very different opinions on mr. obama. alaskans were not too excited about him. argentines thought clinton would win. chileans thought clinton would win. everyone was tuned in. i read articles throughout traveling on the election and how each candidate would affect the greater world beyond the united states. towards the end of my trip, i sat on a boat on a lake in peru with my good friends and travel companions, emily and layne. we were being lashed into by a group of argentine, mexican and french travelers about american politics over the past few years. it was rather humbling and humiliating to find such malcontent for the united states. somewhat dejected, i struck up a conversation with a swiss man at the back of the boat. he wanted to continue to talk about politics. i told him how hard it can be abroad and find yourself constantly on the defensive about your country, finding ways to acknowledge the wrongs done and the good we have provided as well.

"you should never be ashamed of where you are from", he replied. "especially you, because you have the power to change the world. so for those of us who can only watch, please vote and make a difference in the world". 

and here we are, december 17, 2008 and we are about a month away from barack obama being inaguarated as the fourty fourth president of the united states. a monumental accomplishment for our nation and a reminder at how limited my imagination can be. 

thoughts welcome

http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displayStory.cfm?source=most_commented&story_id=12599247&fsrc=nwlgafree

you go wherever you go today

scratching my head

somethings i will never understand....

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2008/10/21/congressman-admits-saying-liberals-hate-real-americans/

merton

living is not thinking. thought is formed and guided by objective reality outside us. living is the constant adjustment of thought to life and life to thought in such a way that we are always growing, always experiencing new things in the old and old things in the new. thus life is always new.

bryan and sean

we are starting a weekly podcast. get excited.

christmas in august

i recently read an article about how the nba is choosing its potential christmas day matchups. thinking back to last christmas, laying on the floor in my grandparents living room with my grandpa's fireplace blazing watching the lakers and the suns battle. my uncle joel beaded sweat on his forehead, either from kobe bryant excitement or that blazing fire. bryan and i shared similar fascination with nba games on christmas. what is it good for? great naps. captivating matchups. non-stop trash talking with uncle joel. so, the nba decided on a five game quintuple-header (?). the madness kicks off with orlando vs new orleans. then following is san antonio vs phoenix. then boston vs. l.a. then washington vs cleveland. then dallas vs. portland. i think david stern did an okay job and i want to highlight how i could have made it better.

the suns and spurs will be phenomenal. probably the first time, i will root for shaq on christmas day. here is how it has to play out. the game must go to triple overtime. shaq will hit a game winning three pointer and it must be in san antonio. i want to see duncan's bewildered face after phoenix avenges its 2008 game 1 playoff loss. the boston/l.a. also may play out as a classic as long paul pierce dunks on sasha vujacic to win the game in overtime. i will keep joel on speed dial to make sure that anything kobe bryant does he appreciates and when kobe falls short in a loss to the celtics, i will call and see if he is accepting trade offers.

how can the dallas and portland game be interesting? how about an elton john and greg oden duet at halftime? i saw him on the espys; i know that man can sing and play the piano. plus, i think elton will be into oden's style (i mean they are practically the same age, right?). i think i will plan a nap through the washington/cleveland game unless soulja boy and jay-z show up to support deshawn stevenson and lebron james.

the nba has to seize the opportunity for great advertisement the way the super bowl has. chris kaman should be featured in a series of geico's caveman commercials. i hope to see sam cassell as the new alien villain in transformers 2.

i hope you can appreciate the absurdity of this post. i promise to be more relevant in the future, but i coudln't resist posting one of my brother and i's more recent conversations.

dig em up

page four hundred and seventy four

i believe this day will come. it is, though, taking longer than expected.

whatever i do, however i find a way to live, i will tell these stories. i have spoken to every person i have encountered these last difficult days, and every person who has entered this club during the awful morning hours, because to do anything else would be something less than human. i speak to these people, and i speak to you because i cannot help it. it gives me strength, almost unbelievable strength, to know that you are there. i covet your eyes, your ears, the collapsible space between us. how blessed are we to have each other? i am alive and you are alive so we must fill the air with our words. i will fill today, tomorrow, every day until i am taken back to god. i will tell stories to people who will listen and to people who don't want to listen, to people who seek me out and to those who run. all the while i will know that you are there. how can i pretend that you do not exist? it would be almost as impossible as you pretending that i do not exist.

-from dave eggers' what is the what

developing thoughts on church

i think my title is a bit ironic or at least i meant it to be. this is the problem with theology students trying to make jokes. over the past few weeks, i have had several different discussions on the church. i encountered all sorts of views and opinions on very distinct paths, but all about personal journeying with the church. a converted catholic. an orthodox monk. emergent hype. failed evangelical churches. failed churches. a clash of generations. lost in semantics. it is evidently strange how buzz words continue to drive the reformation and confusion of and within the evangelical church.

what greatly bothers me about these semantics is our true failure of capturing the idea and sentiment of redemption. have our imaginations ceased? for my generation, most "spiritual revolutions" are driven by the failures of the church, whether it comes in searching out truth in other religions or attempts to redefine and reform christianity. i wrote in an earlier post about something g.k. chesterton writes. he writes that the failures of the church and the hypocrisy of people in the church are practical examples that the doctrine of humanity and sin are true.

it is seemingly strange how we are constantly seeking to redefine who god is rather than allowing for god to redefine who we are. we consume ourselves in the process of fitting god to who we are. this is why we go to churches that fit our class, race, style, intellect, and comfort. this is also why we are so disturbed by churches that speak about god differently than the mold we have crested in our own minds for who god "really" is.

america is home to a divided church. one that fights over politics, money, sex, education, etc. god does not become something because i say "this is who god is". god is completely timeless and not subject to current trends and movements. i think it would be beneficial for the church to understand that god was not created in our image. we create false idols of who god is and strike down other "god" idols from other churches. we need to reform the church to tell the good news of the gospel, to be the living enactment the life, death and resurrection of jesus christ. is that not what the church should be? god's kingdom on earth living out the story of salvation through community, worship, eucharist and baptism?

the return

i am back. i have had a long hiatus from writing. i am determined to make a comeback. just like michael jordan, i hope i can return to whatever form i had before. over the next few weeks, i am hoping to post some stories from south america, passages from books, maybe a picture or two, some stories of life in the office and these such things that make up my life.

a good accident

i found a book in my bag when i arrived home. mary oliver's red bird. here is a poem of her many that i enjoyed.

"of the empire"

we will be known as a culture that feared death
and adored power, that tried to vanquish insecurity
for the few and cared little for the penury of the
many. we will be known as a culture that taught
and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke
little if at all about the quality of life for
people (other people), for dogs, for rivers. all
the world, in our eyes, they will say, was a
commodity. and they will say that this structure
was held together politically, which it was, and
they will say also that our politics was no more
than an apparatus to accommodate the feelings of
the heart, and that heart, in those days,
was small, and hard, and full of meanness.

fernando

fernando is twelve years old. he is pudgy with jet black hair and warm round cheeks. i usually find him wearing a blue sànish futbol jersey. at the church, fernando is is quiet but pleasant, following behind the boys half his age and size. the buildings where fernando lives are behind the church. they are tall and rusted, stained with graffitied walls. there is a colo-colo mural painted on a back wall marking a futbol allegiance. the alleys are dark with shadows from the hot rancaguan sun. people walk the corridors at all hours. music comes from within the walls at all hours of the day. a small river runs beneath the stairways, in between buildings, probably from broken pipes. fernando walks with a spirit on innocence about him, much different than the other boys. how can a child surrounded by drugs, violence and poverty shelter such a soft heart?

pastor luis presented our theme for vacation bible school. ¨con christo en la familia, en feliz hogar¨, a seemingly ironic theme for the community that luis lives and now works in. each day, we taught about different parts of the family with reference to a bible story. i wondered about how these kids could grasp an idea of seeing christ in their families. i wondered how they could understand parents when their fathers deal drugs, come home drunk, if at all, and their mothers walk street corners late at night. they are raised by brothers and sisters who are only with a couple years of entering the same life as their parents. these families are drastically different than the ones we presented. how can they hope that god will provide for them? that god will remember them like abraham? and spare their lives like isaac? they are forgotten daily. their lives do not offer much room for a trascendent hope.

sunday morning. a remnant congregation arrived at iglesia del pacto. there was not much to the music or sermon. words echoed from the emptiness within the church. during the service, the large green door opened and fernando slowly wandered into the church to take his seat for the first time.

¨one of the strongest arguments in favor of christianity is the failure of christians, who thereby prove what the bible teaches about the fall and original sin. as the world goes wrong, it proves the church is right in this basic doctrine¨.
- g.k. chesterton

peter crouch, chilean futbol

the sun glowed a deep red off the chilean andes. layne, emily and i shared a meal together with our new chilean family, luis, arleyi and their son, pablo. jorge, our contact, was there as well. we learned a little of vida here in chile and the life of the church we would be staying in. rancagua is a poor neighborhood, distinct with massive, worn red and blue apartment buildings. our interactions were met with some first date jitters. jorge concluded our meal with and much to my surprise, ¨ok, sean and i will go play soccer now¨.

luis, layne and i strolled through the dimly lit streets to meet jorge at the soccer field with all the young life kids. youth were lined along the fences of their homes. shadows walking to and fro with no destination. a broken and rusted chain linked fence guarded the cement basketball court where we would play futbol. kids luaghed in their warm summer night like the ones i so fondly remember.

jorge introduced me as a former member of manchester united and a teammate and good friend of david beckham. i think that my new teammates still were skeptical about my soccer aptitude. their worries soon became realities. my headers sent the ball everywhere except near the goal. i would like to believe there were fans cheering for me, but it was more like a chorus of laughter. in between games, i would sit with gustavo. he wore a blue soccer jersey and has big brown eyes. he was the only person willing to tell me about my lack of soccer skill or how i had most recently made him laugh.

i persisted nonetheless. i was passed the ball in the midfield. i turned kickly, took a step and the with a quick strike, the boal soared into the upper right hand corner or the net. my first goal! gustavo jumped to his feet and i celebrated with my teammates.

¨peter! peter!¨ they cheered. i was a good foot taller than all my opponents and soon nicknamed after the gangly, 6'7 english striker, peter crouch. i was a feared english striker now. ¨mira, peter!" for the night beneath the chilean stars, i was a foreigner with a place in this poor community. i should probably wear a red english shirt tonight as i return for another night of starlit soccer with the chilean youth.