For this weeks scattered thougths: Story Telling

I admire people who can tell a good story. I feel they have a very real connection between what they want to say and how it comes out. FOr me I force it a little too much. Not so much trying to impress but to use words in a way that invokes something that resonates inside of people.
I’m learning to branch out a little more. In what I read, in how I listen to people and general rhythms I can pick up on. Its still very difficult for me because I feel as though I am finding my voice still.

So what makes a good story teller?
- is it their tone?
- is it the command of language?
- is it the personality charteristics?
- Facial expressions?

For today’s Scattered thoughts: My thoughts on being in solitude and silence>>>

This last weekend my wife left on a work related trip to New Orleans for the weekend. Now at first I was thinking that I was going to make all these plans to fill my weekend (didn’t happen), then I thought I would enjoy and get some reading done (not so much), then I thought I’d get some exercise in (are you kidding me). So early early early friday morning I take Jami to the Ontario airport, say goodbyes and make my drive back to temecula. This was the worst drive ever. 4 in the morning and there was just nothing driving back. Now Usually I enjoy driving by myself, I find it relaxing. But for some reason my head started to think of all the worst possible scenarios. Thats when I needed a timeout. I got home and just crashed for a few hours before work. Friday was just a drag.

Which now brings me to the real topic. That feeling I got when I was driving back home was the feeling of being alone. I was affraid to be in solitude and most importantly I was affraid to be still in the silence. As I reflected on my weekend of nothingness I began to think about all of the moment I had to enter into God. It was as if I kept telling myself there was more time, later, later, later.  And now the weekend is over.

Silence is frightening because it strips us as nothing else does, throwing us upon the stark realities of our life.”
-Dallas Willard, “The Spirit of the Disciplines”

I have been entangled in this culture. I am addicted to noise!

Solitude teaches us that we do not need other people in the way that we usually think we need them. It teaches us that our value is not determined by our usefulness to others

…..

I am finding out that I need to be more disciplined. I need to enter into something bigger than myself and it starts with my willingness to enter into Silence and Solitude. Despite my fear I recognize the importance of entering into the depths.

For todays Scattered thougthts I was thinking I’d like to talk about death. Random I know…

In light of the recent series we went through at church, I am challeneged to think about the way I live my life and ultimately what death looks like for me. In the shallowest parts of me I contend that I have no real fear of death. Not to say I know exactly what is going to happen the minute I die. But I do know that I made a choice 7 years ago to choose life. To know and be known.

But my contention is not there.  It is in my deepest of depths.  The wrestling of thoughts, ideals, and ultimate satisfaction. There is a lot of junk down there. Which I suppose brings me to my thoughts on death. Simply, I’m really not okay with death. Perhaps it is that I always parallel it with pain. You don’t really ever hear about the people who went peacefully into the night. Another part of the puzzle is that there still so much I want to do/accomplish/experience. To have limited control on my life is a crazy thought. I can take care of myself; eat right, exercise, be disciplined. (Which I need to do anyway) But there is always some danger lurking.

This weekend message was a little difficult to follow. But at the end, a simple demonstration was asked. Too go lay your hands on a coffin and look at where you will someday lie. A little odd to me at first but when I saw an elderly couple walk up there, thats when it hit me. It rocked me to my core.  That look of inevitability on their face I will never forget. In that moment I reminded what Isaiah said:

Isaiah 40:6-8
A voice says, “Cry out.” And I said, “What shall I cry?” “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the LORD blows on them. Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”

Then this morning I read:

1 John 2:17

“The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever.”

Still got a lot of shaping to do around these thoughts.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,