The Long Way Up

Wow! . . . . . That was like... what? . . . . . Four months? . . . . .  Four months and no entry on this blog?!?!?! . . . . . So much has happened in that span of time. . . . . . A LOT! . . . . . But the most important of those happenings is a major occasion in my life: MY WEDDING! . . . . . Yup! You read that right! My wedding. I got married. Or more specifically, 'we' got married. And by 'we' I mean myself and my best friend of 18.5 years. . . . . . However, this isn't an article enumerating the sequence of events leading up to the wedding; neither is this a post about my thoughts and emotions about our 'perfect' wedding (more on that in another entry). Instead, this is me sharing the personal vows I wrote for my Bride, J. As an older adult, I have learned to be very circumspect when it comes to making promises to anyone around me, and I have also learned to carefully evaluate the cost of any pledge I deemed deserving of my commitment. This was my approach...

It will almost be a year now since I discovered The Chosen -- the first multi-season show on the life of Jesus and His followers -- and its precepts and posited theses still reverberate in my mind up to now, giving my brain some really substantial moral, existential, and spiritual ruminations. The series is simply wonderfully-produced . One of the show's elements that has gotten me completely impressed is the level of excellence displayed in the way its narrative structure is crafted: from its pacing, to its characterizations, all the way down to its dialogue, The Chosen's script is entertaining, engaging, thrilling, and thought-provoking. The series writers undeniably took a page from their ancient, world-famous source material. The first season is a great example of how adeptly Tyler Thompson, Ryan Swanson, and Dallas Jenkins made use of their writing proficiencies to tackle -- or, at the very least, present -- profound religious conundrums that many of us wrestle with on a ...

There’s like ten thousand mountains to cross And I haven’t even started climbing one All these musings lead to a far off place To a future that’s already been surely won Today feels lost in such a sluggish pace Clouds cooperate too well to set a mood One, an ambience of ominous blatant drabness Another, of veiled hope — depending on attitude Plateaus on hills flood the vision in my eyes A backdrop of grays enshroud the muted greens I’m looking far ahead, only as sight permits But that’s as far as I can traverse, or so it seems First step has been taken: too little, too late? A minuscule dot on the map, unnoticeably etched October winds blowing steadily — hoping southbound Filling out lines of eternity effortlessly sketched Finite, obscured, and oh so elucidated flesh Sitting atop the tower; thinking; perhaps abscond? Infinite, visible, and unmistakably, undeniably true Condescend, take control, penetrate soul and beyond

I have recently seen this worship set aired on Facebook Live where the song leader sang out a few ‘artistic and rhetorical phrases’ toward God and toward the audience: a common practice that worship ministers do apparently. This reminded me of the times when I had been a part of such worship sessions, where I myself have said certain pleasant, spiritual-sounding quips, which in hindsight were, at best, impulsive and, at worst, presumptuous; I guess our emotions can get the better of us sometimes (most of the time?), even in such a hallowed setting. As I continued to watch this band play and sing, I had to fight my own judgmental and self-righteous tendencies since I — as previously mentioned — have been in that position of being on a pulpit to sing songs to God and have gotten carried away with my words, releasing statements that now feel awkward, out of place, and even embarrassing. How many times must I have said and sung words, phrases, and sentences that were not inspired by the Ho...

A father plays a major role in the lives of his children. An understatement? An overstatement? Well, whichever your preference, it's a true statement; one that has been poorly heeded, greatly ignored, or severely missed out. Anyone can biologically sire a child -- we got a lot of that going on these days; but to be a father in every sense of the word is, for sure, such a tall order, which is why many men -- for several varying and valid reasons -- opt out of their responsibilities. One such responsibility inherent to the paternal role is the privilege of representing the Heavenly Father to his children. This wouldn't be much of a stretch if men, to begin with, had an existing relationship with their Father in Heaven growing up, and have spent their season of singleness practicing being God-conscious in whatever form of relationship they had with other people. But sadly, that isn't the case most of the time. So, whatever a man learns during his bachelorhood he usually carrie...

Even after realizing lies Analyzing rude, loquacious eyes Risking life, embracing aftermaths Leaving every artificial rath Easing, and releasing lethargy  Also reeling, lacking empathy Running low, espoused antitheses Learning endings are resyntheses Every afternoon resetting light And requited ladylove elide Rambling, languishing, eating, aching Losses earned adding, ricocheting  Elected at reordered limits  Affected, reading lasting edits Romance, like electorates, adjure Livid, each anathema recur  Essex adjusts, rousing lawlessness Apathy rusts, liquid earnestness Righteousness leaving every abode Living entreaties already rode  Escape, a recourse laborious  Anon, reprobates left egregious Routing lust, evading atrophy Leches exposed, agile rectory Embers arise, rekindling lovers  Amplified, radiant laurels enter Rectify lucid errors appealed Lyrical emotions are revealed Endings are restarts legitimized Ardor refreshed, lenses energized Roads lead...

tones of grief, epitome of shame half-wrought  notes : apology or blame throw the stone — regret — into the deep on the edge, the onset very steep share the baggage, every single weight but unload and shear before too late silent burden hears a lot and more scurrying like hares upon the floor steal the thunder and obscure the light slip them tales of fake and frigid might wipe the board clean; write it on a slate stale or recent; do not hesitate smile , go on like everything’s afloat keep it neat; there’s slime under the moat don’t be dour, sour from these limes   miles to go; there will be sleeping time

Feel free to judge me Go on, expose your heart Point your self-righteous finger If you really want to start Make your estimations Conjecture all you like In the end, it’s not my vocals Blaring on the mic Feel free to judge me You’re perfect, I presume Your character’s in order That's what I would assume Or maybe check the mirror For specks inside your eye Don’t worry ‘bout my vision I take care of my sight Feel free to judge me But keep it to yourself If I do not solicit Then I don’t need your help Respect is quite essential Like distancing and masks If I'm in need of wisdom Then I would surely ask Feel free to judge me But better judge your own Let them that do not have sin Be first to cast a stone I'm not your goodwill project Can’t read my heart and mind You do not know my story So don’t be rude; be kind Feel free to judge me I’m beloved by my Lord He will rightly defend me Be careful with your sword Do not do unto others What’s not been done to you Let God be Judge and ...

Since the dawn of human history, mankind has always had the inclination to want to know as much as they can about many things… important things… everything! There seems to have always been an insatiable hunger to attain awareness pertaining — and even peripheral — to whatever exists under the sun, occurs on the earth, and eludes logical explanation. In fact, in centuries of human civilization, the accumulation of cognizance has always been equated to the aggregation of might, and those who have gained vast amounts of awareness have more often than not inclined toward brandishing and wielding information to their own advantage and success. The old adage, ‘ knowledge is power ,’ has — for better or for worse — been proven true time and again throughout history. One does not even have to look into recorded historical facts of how Adolf Hitler’s knowledge of the theory of evolution and ‘the survival of the fittest’ led him and the Nazis to discriminate, segregate, and terminate thousands o...

Don’t think about it too much Just write your thoughts on the page as they come You know they’ve been piled up, scattered all over, and cooped up in your brain Let them out; let your mind breathe; give your thoughts more space Acknowledge everything that has been and release them Give your emotions exposure to the light of day Who knows what might come your way once you do You’ve thought about how much you’ve missed going to movies With friends like Archie, Mike, or one of the men you’ve mentored You’ve pondered about life perhaps not ever going back to what it used to be Certain that you do not want to revert to some of the old things Unsure of letting the others go You’ve thought about the utmost importance of times of solitude Especially when spent in the presence of God You’ve realized even more how valuable face-to-face interactions with people are The priceless moments you’ve invested into the lives of others way before all this happened And the future times you’ve yet to spend o...

Forty days. From the time our government announced that the country would be placed under a community quarantine to stave off the effects of the coronavirus pandemic, people have been experiencing different kinds of challenges and dilemmas brought about by the confinement of body and mind within the four walls of our homes. Forty days. Every week we would see statistics go up, go down, and go back up again. The number of deaths would be determined by the condition of the immune system of the infected. The number of the infected would be determined by the compliance and common sense of the healthy. The healthy would most probably determine the number of days the pandemic will last: if either or both compliance and common sense were readily found in the citizenry. Forty days.  A lot can happen in six weeks. Even in quarantine. A lot. Something good. Something bad. Maybe a bit of both. With this unprecedented global pandemic somewhat shutting down most of the wo...

Writing this blog entry about the epistle to the Philippians has been a very long and arduous process that began early this year, in the month of January. The last three months have been anything but ordinary — just about everything in life around the world as we know it has apparently come to a grinding halt because of the corona virus pandemic. On top of that, a personal tribulation in my life has shoved any desire for the creative to the back burner, as thoughts of worry and anxiety took the driver seat for a huge chunk of said three months. With the pandemic’s impact becoming more evident in my country in mid-February and sort of leveling off in early April, life here has taken a much slower pace, and the initial pangs of fear and discouragement have been gradually — and thankfully — replaced by faith and hope. This is due mainly to the abiding and comforting presence of God, and His assurance that not only does He have complete control of what is going on globally, but that ...

Art, in and of itself, already has an alluring appeal to the human senses if we give it time to penetrate and permeate our sight, hearing, sentiments, and sensibilities. Words written on several pages of paper captivate a reader’s imagination; paints splattered and combined on canvas pique an onlooker’s curiosity; a musical instrument utilized by a vivacious virtuoso ignites the passion of a listener’s heart. Something else entirely different happens when two art forms are combined: the impact on the human senses are exponentially increased. We see this in the amalgamation of photography (the art of taking pictures) and the performing arts (dancing, singing, acting), which together have given us the magic of movies and filmmaking. The concepts that one art form conveys seem to be made more crystal clear when expressed in concert with another artistic expression. To be specific, when the art of writing is mixed with the art of music, it creates a means for a songwriter to exp...