The earth is not a cold dead place

don’t tread

jacobperrello — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 16:19:43 +0000

I think this is a great song with great underlying meaning. Who is the invisible? It makes a lot of sense when you think about it, if in fact you acknowledge the existence of God. I don’t know what was coursing through the mind of the writer of this song, but as I listen to this I cannot help but think of Imago Dei, the image of God written in all of us. It angers me when I see injustice, when I see the strong oppress the weak. I could write a lot more on this and I probably will when i have more time. The winners write history, but God has the final say, and God will not forget the cry of the oppressed. Rise up.

We’re more than carbon and chemicals
We are the image of the invisible
Free will is ours and we can’t let go
We are the image of the invisible
We can’t allow this, the quiet cull
We are the image of the invisible
So we sing out this, our canticle
We are the image of the invisible

We all were lost now we are found
No one can stop us or slow us down
We are the named and we are known
We know that we’ll never walk alone

We’re more than static and dial tone
We are the image of the invisible
We’re emblematic of the unknown
We are the image of the invisible
So raise the banner, bend back your bows
We are the image of the invisible
Remove the cancer, take back your souls
We are the image of the invisible

Though all the world may hate us, we are named
The shadow overtake us, we are known

We’re more than carbon and chemicals
Free will is ours and we can’t let go
We are the image of the invisible
We’re more than carbon and chemicals
We are the image of the invisible
Free will is ours and we can’t let go
We are the image of the invisible
We can’t allow this, the quiet cull
We are the image of the invisible
So we sing out this, our canticle
We are the image of the invisible

Raise up the banner, bend back your bows
Remove the cancer, take back your souls

minIMalism

jacobperrello — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 22:32:04 +0000

Well usually I write at home. Today, that is not the case as I am sitting in Cafe Aroma on Elmwood. It’s a quaint shop with fresh coffee and steeped tea, artisan pastries and specialty drinks. There is also a fantastic menu for those 21 and older, who like a little something extra in their coffee. Today, I am not one of those people. Maybe next time.

It feels a bit cliche. Writing in a coffee shop, that is. But at least I am not all by myself. Anna is sitting across the table from me and I can’t help but look at her from time to time, just to look. It’s like she doesn’t even know I’m looking, unaware that I am captivated by her.

Sometimes when she reads, she gets a furrow on her forehead as if to say, “yeah that’s good”, or “what?” I think it’s cute.

It’s raining outside, and pretty heavily at that. There is something beautifully comforting about torrential downpours. They make me feel small. Incredibly small. But at the same time, alive.

I’m glad I’m alive.

Which brings me to my next point. Actually the point of why I am writing. I’ve been thinking a lot about my things, you know, material possessions. Honestly, I like a lot of what I have, otherwise I would not have bought them, but I am beginning to question my motives.

I’d like to spend less money and buy less stuff. This might sound crazy, but I got the idea because I feel like I waste money sometimes, on clothes, on things I don’t need. I am thinking about not buying any new clothes or shoes for an entire year and taking the money I would have spent on that and give it to a noteworthy cause, or someone who needs support, I don’t know yet.

I do know that it is currently hip to support organizations that go into Africa and build wells for villages that do not have access to clean water, or water at all. I’m not saying it is bad to support these organizations, it just disturbs me that it is now “cool” to do so. Really, it should just be what we do. We should not love others or help others in need because it is a fad. We should love others who are in need because we are loved, because we have been blessed.

Love is not a fad.

But clothes are.

They go in and out of style. The latest look is nothing more than a lie, cleverly worked into the fabric of society.

Pun intended.

I need to learn to be content. To feel comfortable in who I am, regardless of what I wear. I feel really guilty when I spend the money God entrusts to me on myself when I know there are children in third-world countries who don’t even have a pair of shoes, which is why I support this organization.

www.tomsshoes.com

So I am committing to this. Starting today I am not going to buy any new clothes or shoes for myself for an entire year. Call me crazy, but I feel this is a tangible way for me to die to myself daily. It will teach me to appreciate what I have been blessed with. Plus, it will allow me to bless others. At least, I hope so.

To be honest. It will be painful.

But if I cannot die to my desire for material possessions, how am I supposed to die for Christ?

what you believe isn’t what you say you believe, it’s what you do

jacobperrello — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 22:23:58 +0000

confess (v.) to grant; to admit; not to dispute

I am unable to think of any behavior more pivotal to the Christian faith than the confession of one’s sin. That perplexes me. I don’t know why, it just does. And not that it’s a bad thing either, but simply the way my mind works when it comes down to it.

I think the Church has it right encouraging people to consider the sin nature that lives inside of them. But, honestly, does it make sense to tell a person they are going to hell if they don’t repent or tell God they are sorry for all the wrong things they have done? I don’t think it does. I think it just pushes people even further from a relational God who wants to know them.

I feel as though my perception of what it means to confess has changed quite a lot over the years: one from telling God I’m sorry to actually owning the evil and wickedness that lives inside of me and trusting that God hears me and loves me regardless of my sin. Because in reality, we all sin, we are not Holy- and it is indeed a fallacy to think otherwise.

I don’t think God is particularly fond of hearing sorry, but we as humans are, which is probably why we use the term so liberally. The word sorry has a functional purpose in our vernacular as something that relieves guilt from a personal standpoint. If you know you have wronged someone, simply saying sorry to them will make you feel better because you understand that it is what you should say: it is something that has been ingrained into us since we were children, and along with that socialization comes an enormous sense of familiarity and comfort. Because the truth of the matter is I can tell the African-American kid I called a “brownie” in 5th grade I’m sorry every day for the next ten years, but it won’t make a difference if if my heart still remains cold. I mean, what I said to that kid in 5th grade was racist. My parents aren’t racist, my family isn’t; I learned about the civil rights movement in school and listened to Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech, yet somehow racism was alive in my heart. Sorry is just a word that people attach feelings to. Feelings are powerful. Most of them are complete bullshit.

We talked about what happened probably a year ago and I told him that I told him I never felt like I ever meant it when I casually told him I was sorry in 5th grade. All I knew was that I got caught, was in trouble, and saying sorry was the only think I could think of to help stay out of even more trouble, because in all honesty I wasn’t. I still went on thinking I was better. It was pride. It was the condition of my heart.

We’re friends now.

I didn’t hate that kid. I hated myself.

…

I was never truly sorry because I could not forgive myself. I was too prideful to admit that there was something wicked inside me.

Confession is often made into something you do, not something that is. It is a behavior which man in the church has said is good. Don’t get me wrong, Jesus talks about confession and its goodness and tells us (1 John 1:9) that if we confess our sin’s he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. That sounds like a pretty sweet deal, right? But Jesus doesn’t want lip service, sorry for the sake of sorry. Confession, like most other things, has the unique ability to be abused and turned into a ritual that eventually loses meaning.

I have never confessed to a priest in a booth. Forgive me for saying this, but the man who would be sitting on the other side of the beautiful mahogany divider is probably just as big a sinner as I. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to tell people how messed up you are inside, in fact its quite freeing, but the priest who takes confession is just as guilty of adulterating the true meaning of confession as the religious fanatic who confesses the same sin every week in order to feel good, or less guilty.

Guilt is a bitch. It really is. It is a result of sin. I don’t God ever intended us to feel guilt, but it is a function of the world we live in, a function of the inherent wickedness and depravity that exists in our hearts, in my heart.

The most freeing moment of my life was the moment I realized that despite believing Jesus died on the cross to save me from an eternity of torment and damnation, I was no better than the person who heard that same message and chose not to believe it. God did not look at me differently or that person differently, he looked at all of us with love, pure unadulterated love. Love for the homosexual. Love for the poor. Love for the divorcee. Love for the addict.

It’s not a bad thing to acknowledge your own depravity. I guess we try and stave off anything negative about ourselves because, whether we admit it or not, we want people to perceive us as a good person just as much as we want to feel good about ourselves.

…

I struggle living in a country where more leads to more leads to more, when I know there are people living in countries living on the equivalent of what I just spent on my coffee at Starbucks.

It is hard for me to understand.

I don’t feel like God has given me an answer about why I feel the way I do, but I think realizing that I feel this way is a good thing. I am not going to say I’m sorry, because I’m not sorry. This is the context I live in; I feel God has put me and my circumstances together for a reason.

Sure, society dictates what we do by saying what we should do, but why do we give the greater society jurisdiction on our behavior? Really? Saying I’m not going to change because no one else will is apathy. Apathy is faith’s greatest enemy.

I admit that I sometimes find fulfillment in money and things instead of finding fulfillment in God. How empty will I feel then? When all I thought would fill me up is gone, yesterday’s fad, rusty and broken, laying in a pool of disgusting feces and rank blood?… I know God is working on this in me, and it is a painful process. It’s hard to tell myself no. But I know difficulty is usually indicative of something much more beautiful to come.

I confess that there is wickedness raging inside of me, that if left unchecked will consume to feel pleasure until all the receptors have been sate and there is nothing left but scorched earth.

I am choosing to own this. Choosing to trust that God that he has put me here for a reason and is allowing me to feel this way.

Ultimately, it’s up to me to change. I have to ask myself if I really want to.

belief.

jacobperrello — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 15:16:42 +0000

I began to worry.
Thoughts began to tumult inside my head like a ship being tossed around by the sea.
This is not me.
So I pray.
I ask God to take this doubt and worry
and transform for his glory.
For when I doubt I am telling God
I don’t believe you are who you say you are,
or that you will do what you have promised.
It is selfishness, a slap in God’s face.
And to think it is I who am blessed?!
When others in this world have nothing and I have so much,
yet I find myself worrying.
Well to hell with the worrying.
God.
I believe.
You are steadfast
in love
in mercy
and in grace.
You will provide.
So I will do my part
and rest knowing that I am in your hands.
After all, I am just a man…
You are God.

are you a dreamer?

jacobperrello — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 17:28:05 +0000

The rage of storm cloud insight
the beauty of divine
Coalesce together as the droplets form a line
from one odd shape the other
dancing to and fro
eventually streaming, still
together calling a name we know.
Each petal softly fallen
to its final resting place
forever feels no sorrow
nor knows such name as haste.
Leaves stooping now in unison
to master unseen, but known
declaring the beauty of divine
the glory that is thine.
For amidst the tempest sings
a sparrow small and sweet
and from its lips cries haste the day
as sorrow soon whilst cease.
Running or standing
where are we this time?
Sad it seems too often
backs are turned
missing the beauty
the rage
the divine.
Why aren’t you dreaming?

snap SHOT.

jacobperrello — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 04:14:19 +0000

Left in a state of stupor, he placed the several sheets of loosely bound paper on the bed stand beside him. An idea, a word, a meaning. He longed for meaning but could find none. Restlessly, he reached over and flicked the switch. The darkness was inescapable, suffocating to the point of unconsciousness. Slowly, it took him.
The flashing of light through half closed blinds, a sharp ringing in his hear. Snooze. All became quiet once again, but it was too late, he was coming around. Feeling as if he were just hit by a speeding freight train, he sat on the edge of his bed rubbing the crust from his eyes. Coming to his senses, “Oh crap”, he realized what day it was. He had nothing to show except the fruits of his indifference. He was surprised to find himself saying he didn’t care; it was not his nature to be this way.
Several days passed, still nothing. He was neither intrigued nor captivated by anything he came across. “Funny”, he remembered something of this nature happening before. Déjà vu, misfire of the neurotransmitters. He felt as if he were living his life in reverse, always tired, always cold. He was no longer in control, constantly being monitored.
He lay there, apathetic. It was not his choice to be this way. Nineteen years with nothing to show for except a 4.0 grade point average and a few speeding tickets. He longed for the taste of real food; the mush slapped on his plate might as well have been dog food.

Reality.

Reality without hope.

Reality without Jesus.

[?]

jacobperrello — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 17:29:36 +0000

Listen.

Ask yourself.

To answer… The love is in you and me, but can only manifest itself through open hands and outstretched arms.

meaning.

jacobperrello — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 03:27:35 +0000

Today, the thought crossed my mind that what I am doing with my life is meaningless.

Really, it’s not, but why is it so easy to think that?

It is because we compare ourselves to others. We see other people who are doing things we think are meaningful and want to do those things, when truly we have not been created with the capacity to do it.

That doesn’t mean we are failures or losers, but simply means we have a different purpose.

I do. And I embrace that.

It’s funny how we let people guilt trip us into doing what they think is right, or purposeful.

Are we not loud men living quiet lives, denoting purpose through others’ opinions of us?

No one on this earth can validate the purpose of your existence.

Only God can. And God does.

Even today’s most mundane circumstance was planned by God for a reason. We may not see the reason until our last days. We may see its fruit tomorrow, we may see it today.

I don’t think God created us to be the same. I don’t think God created us to compare ourselves to others.

God created us to focus. Focus on God.

And in that focus lies life’s greatest question. Why am I here.

I have that answer for myself, and only part of it for you.

Just God.

Just God’s purpose.

Harmony.

Rhythm.

Cycles.

Purity.

Rawness.

Reality.

Perfection.

Salvation.

In God. With God. Through God.

Nothing, but God.

And in God we find the truth. Slowly. Little by little. Experience after experience. Year by year.

God is the answer.

War.

Death.

Disease.

Famine.

Drought.

Hate.

Abuse.

Murder.

Suffering.

All are allowed by God. All are used by Satan. All are temporary.

They test us. Test humanity. Test our resilience. Our passion. Our fortitude. Our stubbornness. Our pride.

They break us. Break our pride. Break our hearts. Make us cry to God.

Purpose.

Focus.

God is love.

Love is God.

Anywhere we find love, we find God.

War.

Death.

Disease.

Famine.

Drought.

Hate.

Abuse.

Murder.

Suffering.

If none of these existed…

We would never love. Never cry out. To humanity and to God our voices would be silent as would our hearts.

Breath.

Life.

God.

Zzzzz…

jacobperrello — Thu, 28 May 2009 18:53:18 +0000

I used to be such a lazy Christian. Sure, I had quiet time, but I left God there. I had my self-life and my religious life: the two were diametrically opposed in all respects. I was the epitome of what it meant to be a hypocrite and as that angered me I turned to the idols in my life which I used to cope with the disdain I had for myself.

I like how Michael Wells describes our false selves as “success suits”. We put them on when we want to feel like we are worth something to somebody, and we take them off when we are home and our families see us for who we really are.

The truth is that a lot of us are unlovable because we are insane. If God is real, which I believe He is, then it is acceptable to say that because God created man, God is the pinnacle of reality. To be one with God means to be in touch with reality: sanity. To be out of touch with God means to be out of touch with reality: insanity. As a result we begin listening to anything and everything but God. And yes, because the messages we choose to privy ourselves to are not from God, but from those who think they know everything (wise in the world’s eyes, insane in God’s eyes), it is like taking advice or finding your identity in what someone who is medically insane thinks or says of you (no offense intended).

But, when we quit being lazy and stop living in defeat, we are then able to truly embrace the new self which can be found through a life in Christ.

So the issue is quite interlaced here. The word of God is described as the wellspring of life. If we think of the Bible as something to be read instead of something to be consumed we are simply being wasteful. And, in turn, are leaving God in the Bible and not making Him real in our own lives.

heat.

jacobperrello — Thu, 28 May 2009 18:48:54 +0000

The fire should not die.
But, it is alright if it takes a different shape.
Don’t let it dwindle.