Living the Life

A pic from a former trip... even though I claim to live happily in simplicity I am still bummed that I haven't got my camera anymore.... oh well such is life.

After knowing Somchit for nearly two years this is the first time I have seen him as a bona fide monk. The twenty-two year old Laotian whom I met in Myanmar, Christmas of 2003 had eight years as a novice or ‘monk in training’ under his belt before his final ordination into the monastic life of a monk earlier this year.

Beyond giving me an excuse to escape the honking horns and slow walking prople crowding the sidewalks of Bangkok, I ventured to Vientiane, Laos on a journey to discuss the possibility of going to Somchit's very rural home village with a group of friends in March.

“I’m nervous for us to travel with you, Somchit. You remember the incident at the stupa!” A roar of laughter breaks out amongst the two monks and me at the recollection of the event of a previous visit.

Out of hospitality innate to Lao culture, Monk Sie and then-Novice Somchit insisted on taking me to the best sight in Vientiane- a grandiose piece of architecture resembling the backdrop of Anna and the King blinding every eye lay sight the gold monstrosity from the reflection caused by the always-bright Laotian sun.

After only perusing half the grounds of the landmark, Sie, Somchit, and I were taken in for questioning. Breaking the ‘cultural law’ forbidding holy men to roam freely with western women, in time no less than a half an hour we managed to regain freedom after the novices were both given official write-ups and the westerner walked.

As the sound of laughter dwindles into sweet reminiscence, Somchit flashes a mischievous smile, “No, no, I am certain it doesn’t matter. I can travel alongside you and your friends.”

In sure disbelief I smirk, “Oh really, Somchit? Has the law changed since our near arrest?”

Stretching his arms wide with a sense of accomplishment in reference to his recent ordination, “The law hasn‘t changed, but the man has.”

Somchit laughs at his own goofy sarcasm as his arms fall back to his side. Yet I wonder if his statement isn’t said with an inkling of perceived truth, as is often the case with sarcasm.

“So, now that you are a monk rather than a novice, do the people in your home village treat you with a new respect?”

“Oh no doubt about it,” a boyish deviousness innate to Somchit’s personality re-paints his face as he whispers, “like a King.”

The same laughter as before follows as it does with all statements of absurdity he makes, but quickly his dignified character returns, “No, but honestly, of course they give me a respect. Everywhere I go I will receive respect. I am a monk.”

Set apart and distinguished.

Imperfection masquerades in flowing orange dress hung on bald headed men called Holy. In reverence built on ritual, monks are the buffer zone between earth and enlightenment: unholy and holy. The distinguished elite free all other citizens from the burden of confronting holiness. Holiness is a matter only concerning the robed, the ordained.

Beyond the illusion lies a man, not a god, diving for perfection yet coming up flawed.

Somchit’s shortcomings only intensify the recognition I have for my own: a person intended for holiness fallen short holding onto the coattails of good intentions and tomorrows.

Yes, Jesus I want to follow you… but first let me go and bury my father…did I say that, or the man with Jesus? Maybe both…

“I want to read what you write about me,” Somchit reminds me that I once told him I would one day write a novel with him as a central character.

“You don’t want to read what I write about you because I am just going to expose you to the world and blow your cover. Monks are self-seeking and sinful just like the rest of the world- not really perfect at all,” my playful sarcasm is all truth.

Somchit takes no offence yet weakly rebuts the statement, “We monks try, but we are still human. Human nature plagues all men. What are we to do?’

Ahhh, don’t you see, Somchit? Exactly what Liz and I have been telling you for so long…. Perfection is never an obtainable virtue if it is solely dependant on something inherently imperfect.

“In this time are we loving or do we sit here wondering why this world isn’t turning around… it’s now or never.” – Three Days Grace

So Somchit capitalized on my presence in Laos and forcefully asked me to teach his novice monks. S.C. teaches 12-16 year olds and 17-20 year olds every night. Turns out it was so much fun and the kids put me through a ringer with some crazy questions about God, Jesus, our relationship to Islam and Judaism, forgiveness of murderers and why our legal system founded on Christianity doesn't free repentant murderers.... and my personal favorite was the kid who asked me how I felt about the fact that God only had Jesus and how I felt about God choosing to manifest himself in the form of a man and not a woman. Who knew that a Laotian 15 year old boy would be such a feminist.

Then we took a look at their daily assignment and it is just classic. The story they were reading was:

Lady Kisa had a small baby. Her baby became very ill and died. Lady Kisa was very sad and took the dead baby around to all the villagers asking for help to restore its life but of course no one could do such a thing. However, when she brought the corpse to Lord Buddha he said, "Surely I can help your child but first you must bring me a mustard seed from a family who has never lost a loved one to death."

Lady Kisa went from house to house in search of the mustard seed. Everyone had compassion on her problem and offered her mustard seeds. However when she asked the question, "Have you lost a family member to death?" every house answered yes. Sometimes it was a parent, a sister, a father, and even sometimes a child like herself.

She returned to Lord Buddha empty-handed. Lord Buddha explained to Kisa that life was impermanent and the fate of all men. No one could escape death.

Lady Kisa then went on to be a disciple of Lord Buddha.


What I got out of that story was:
1. Lord Buddha is an uncompassionate punk.
2. LORD Jesus offers hope and life... Buddha offers indifference and defeat.

My heart is at rest.

Laos is a land of great memories for me- a place of reflection, calm, and simplistic beauty. Not too much different from provincial Thailand, yet Laos is somehow special. I could seriously buy a motorbike and a thatched roofed house and live here forever….

Remnants of French Colonialism in both architecture and baguette bread on every corner and here I sit reading a paper on Euro-centrism and development thinking. Talk about perfecting a mood with slightly humorous, slightly disturbing irony.

In recent dialogues on Ryan Sharp’s blog, the topic has arisen of the narratives of life-suburban vs. one of downward progression. Ryan and Holly Sharp are two of four cool people I know disturbed by the 'church machine' and 'The Empire' and are now trying to be disciples of a different breed...refreshing. Praise God for people like the Sharp's and the Chote's... Now that I've introduced them... I've thought a lot about these 'narrative options' amongst other things during my reading and my time here in Laos...

“The country that is more developed industrially only shows to the less developed, the image of its own future.” -Karl Marx

I don’t know if my friend, Karl Marx here was saying that in a favor or disgust but as I sit in Laos, a land I love for its lack of western presence, it's simplicity, it's gentleness… I hope that Laos is not seeing its future image in America, Japan or South Korea.

I am reminded of a famous quote by some rich person in history(way to site sources). In attempts to advise people how to get rich the fellow said, “if you want to be rich, first you got to live like you’re poor.” What he meant by the statement was to save money, then invest- don’t spend it all on image and create debt. But, as I sat on a songkraw (back of a truck with seats) with two Laotian girls this morning just enjoying the sun and soft breeze, I realized the reason I love places like Nepal and Laos is because they make me rich in a different way. One backpack with only a few clothes. Heck, I don’t have an ipod or even a digital camera anymore (as Rashon would say ‘bad guys my things jacking’) and my cares are so few. The simple life creates richness the affluent sacrifice whether they ever realize it or not. So many times people say, “I could never live overseas and make such a sacrifice of this or that.” But, oh contraire, you are sacrificing- sacrificing the peace of simplicity for the burden of things.

“Ghandi argues that Indians are a subject population (for colonization) not because of colonial force but through the seduction of modernity….we notice that the mind is a restless bird; the more it gets the more it wants and still remains unsatisfied... our ancestors, therefore, set a limit to our indulgences. They saw happiness is largely a mental condition… We have managed with the same kind of plough as existed thousands of years ago. We have retained the same kind of cottages that we had in former times and our indigenous education remains the same as before. We have had no system of life-corroding competition… it was not that we did not know how to invent machinery, but our forefathers knew that if we set our hearts after such things, we would become slaves and lose our moral fibres…”
-Development and Social Change, McMichael P.

Maybe Ghandi is romanticizing the good-intentions of ancestors trying to remain pure-hearted individuals, but it sure sounds good on paper.

I’ll leave you with a semi-related African saying in regards to colonization: “When the white man came he had the bible and we had the land. When he left, we had the bible and he had the land.”

News from the monk, Somchit in the next blog!

Here's where I want to be right now.... but instead I'll be spending time listening to this guy.

Walden Bello is a note-worthy guy and also one of my profs.... read the article if you want to read the debate "who rules the world: governments or corporations?"

Dr. Bello, says corporations... what do you think?

"This life is more than just a read thru." -Red Hot Chili Peppers

Hey kiddies... I'm about to head to my love-land, Laos, a small landlocked country of only 4 million above Thailand (for those of you who might not know!)... Going to hunt down the Buddhist Monk, Somchit, God's had Liz and I chasing for a few years through random encounters in desultory countries of Asia. So, this encounter includes me and Somchit in Laos... hopefully I won't get us nearly arrested like the last time I hung with the kid :) (obviously another story!!!). And this time I remember- LAOS HAS NO ATM MACHINE!!! Pray for my orange-robed friend.... he's quite the character and too smart for his own good. Knowledge surpasses compassion and understanding... but I still have hope for my bald brotha.

I got the chance to meet up with some old friends from the one Red Light area of Bangkok known as Patpong. Ong and Pon are two of tens of thousands of ‘working girls’ in Bangkok. Small in stature, big in pain, Ong and Pon put a name, a face, a person to the sea of pretty things up for sale at prices much less than they are worth.

I was happy to see my old friends, but sad about the circumstances. It’s been over a year since I have seen Ong and Pon, yet their lives drum on in the same old rut of hopelessness which I last saw them: one night stands for cash with the occasional repeat customers giving the added bonus of clothes and material goods on top of standard fees.

My classmate, whom I drug along for the experience, and I sit at one of the small tables against the mirrored walls that enclose the centralized stage. We’re the only female customers- the only fully dressed females.

“Maybe people thinking you lesbian,” Pon jokes as she leans on me, “I do like this- these people no know you my friend. Man thinking, ‘ok, lesbian!’”

I laugh and push Pon off me. I want to look up at the girls dancing on the bar to search for other girls I know, but knowing what Pon said is true makes me reluctant to gaze in the direction of the girls in thongs in front of me.

Jet and Joe, two girls I know dancing on the bar smile and wave at me. I blush in embarrassment at the attention my presences receives.

The song changes and the girls switch spots. The fifteen girls dancing on the bar step off to mingle with potential customers and fifteen girls from the floor hop up on the bar. Ong leaves the table and files onto the stage for her turn to dance.

Ong holds the pole like she has a thousand nights before. She’s not really dancing- just moving slightly to the beat in boredom. Her face is expressionless. The girl I know by Ong is now number 154- the identity so neatly pinned to the top of her bikini.

I force myself to fake a smile at my friend, though watching her only rips open old pains I have for the girls of Patpong. She sticks her tongue out at me as a sign of exhaustion from the monotony of her job.

A British fellow of around 25 walks in. He is noticeably the most handsome of the customers present. One of the girls on the floor attempts to massage his neck. She’s a cute girl but age is working against her. He’s looking for a younger girl… say, Ong’s age.

The song changes and Ong jumps down from the bar. The chap begins chatting her up as if he is just legitimately picking a girl up from a regular bar. She pretends to be interested although she hardly understands whatever lines he is feeding her. She holds a smile which I know is fake and nods occasionally despite not knowing what she is nodding about.

Pon sits next to me at the table. She puts her foot up on the chair next to her and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her knee high black boots. As she lights up she nods in the direction of Ong and the British guy, “Ong’s gonna get him tonight.”

Another girl is sitting to our right talking to a Japanese client over forty. The man stands up and ushers the girl to do the same- he wants to buy her. The girl looks back at Pon and gives a half smile. Pon extends her fist and the girl knocks it with her own as to say, “Yep, I scored the high roller.” Japanese men over 40 are sure to have a lot of cash.

“So, is everything else going good for you, Pon?” I ask not really knowing what else to say to a girl I know has been doing not much of anything but going home with strangers for the past year since I last saw her.

“No, but oh well,” she smiles an empty smile, “You know I want to stop work like this but you know I cannot. I have at home with my mother my baby.”

A night in years past returns to me when I was washing Pon’s hair before work in the outreach salon.

“Do you miss your baby?” I asked after she told me her child was in her home province, Issan.

“Everyday,” Pon looked at me with a sincerity most bar girls lack in regard to their children afar.

Back in the bar, I think how her baby must be growing into a walking, talking bundle of love. Her daughter, Wan, now not a baby but a child, growing bigger with a mother in a distant city who really she doesn’t know at all.

My classmate and I decide to leave and I say goodbye to Ong as she continues chatting with the British fellow. As us Westerners make eye contact my heart judges him harshly for his action, his participation in perpetuating such a system. Somehow for a minute I unjustly feel better than him- self righteous- because I would never do something so immoral.

Then I remember my good friend who recently told me, “You know I used to buy prostitutes all the time before I was a Christian- because I was so empty.”

I see a person just as empty as Pon and Ong- only this one is free to be clothed, without a number and he is the enemy, the culprit.

What a complex God we serve that calls us to simultaneously love our enemy and defend the poor and needy.

Look how sweet Rashon can be... what's with that dino tattoo?! I have no idea- the kid insists on putting those things on his face whenever he gets his hands on 'em.Being in Bangkok I'm missing out on the 'season of festivals' with the boys, but after talking to them it sounds like they are having fun making Momos- what can best be described as Steamed Spicy Tibetan Raviolis (at least that's what this italian girl would call 'em) Mitzo Chaa! (delicious!). I'm jealous!

They also went to Lakeside- or as they described it their "old home" (when they were sleeping on the streets) for a swim.

It's so cool because one of their teachers, and three people from Lakeside that I know wrote me to say, "the boys have really changed.... they are so polite and so much different than they were before... well, all but Rashon."

Man, keep praying for Rashon, guys.... Rashon is the reason I know these kids in the first place and the reason I kept going forward with taking the kids off the streets. Just when I started to doubt it all, Rashon looked and me with his irreplacable smile and his childlike voice said, "You give me life, yeah?"

Only one month 'till I get to see them again! Yay!

Remember, if you wanna $contribute$ to their lives.... email me: ariyaskye@aol.com

Here's a little something I wrote for some thang for West Bowles (colorado church)....


The best way to truly understand the miraculous nature of the love of God is to find one person with a heart harder than stone and love that person with all your strength. Only when love is completely one sided; lavished abundantly yet refused immensely; will one begin to understand the heart of a God who loved us while we were still sinners.

In recent times I have become involved in the lives of seven Nepali boys ages six to fourteen, formerly residents of the street. A product of all things that are street life, my kids use drugs, lie, steal, cheat and fight on a regular basis. Most street kids become beggars before the age of six, marijuana smokers before the age of eight and users of heavier drugs- mainly crack- before the age of ten. Through the process of pulling my boys off the streets, enrolling them in school and giving them another chance I have had my doubts. Will the boys ever be able to really change?

True love is not motivated by potential result. Love doesn’t choose to act when the risk is low and the benefits high. Love loves because it cannot help itself- it has no choice but to give anything despite everything.

Although love has the power to foster change within the loved, it is not dependent upon this change. Love unceasingly thrives upon itself- no matter what reaction its presence warrants.

True love is not encumbered by opposition. The defining character of true love is its ability to stand alone and unhindered, steadfast and resolute. Love remains constant in the moment of trial and unchanged amidst resistance. Although the object of love’s affection may push away, true love does not retreat.

There is a war within twelve year old, Rashon unlike anything I have ever seen in an individual. In a good moment he is the most loving, considerate boy of them all. He works diligently in school and his eyes shine with the goodness of a child. Yet, within a split second his goodness can be overpowered by the swelling rage of a vicious heart.

“I no love you- I hate you!!! You no good guys. You no giving me smoking! I no like reading school- I want sleeping street every night! My life no good- I no care. I am street and old guys my things jacking I no care. Jacking guys giving me smoking something,” Rashon screams at me on the bad end of one of his many pendulum swinging emotional lows, “I want every day smoking! I sleep street and every day coming crazy and using.”

Rashon cups his hands around his mouth pantomiming the way street kids inhale glue before he bends down and lifts up a corner of the linoleum flooring of his room. In defiance, Rashon takes out a small bag of marijuana he has been hiding and smirks as he holds it before me. Almost as a challenge, he begins to roll.

My flesh wants to cry out, “After I have sacrificed so much of my life for you? After all I have done for you? After I’ve taken you in, built you a home, made you a bed, given you a life- this? This is how you repay me?”

God quiets my head and love forces me to look deep.

Did you become involved in the lives of these boys for repayment from them or out of obedience to me? What is not clear about love‘s unconditional nature? Before you cared for me, I loved you. Even still you defy me- you turn your back on my love- but my love for you remains steadfast. If my love for you had been contingent upon your response, surely I would have left you long ago.

Before me stands the same rage filled child, yet seen by God’s eyes. I now see a little boy who is fully aware of the evilness of man but has experienced nothing of the goodness of God.

Suddenly my anger is replaced by a love not my own and despite that only moments earlier I wanted nothing more than to scold my rebellious kid, the only words that come out are, “I love you, Rashon.”

“I no love you,” Rashon continuing to smoke, throws his metal chest across the room. His clothes and books spill out as the box hits the wall.

“I love you. If you smoke everyday- I will love you.”

Rashon runs at me and begins beating me with his fists in attempts to rid himself of this foreign thing called love, “I no love you. I no want you love me.”

“Rashon- no matter what, I am going to love you. Break everything in this room and I will still love you. If you don’t love me- that’s fine. I still will always love you. If you run away- I will love you. If you stop going to school- I will love you. Nothing you can do will stop me from loving you.”

“You talking, I no listening. You love me- I no care. I no love you,” shoes begin flying and posters torn from the walls.

Before I knew God’s love, I wonder how many times my actions said the very same thing to Him. And yet….

“…God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

I had my pre-thesis meeting with one of my professors today. This is where I sit down and lay raw the very un-researched idea I have for my graduate study work. My thesis is going to be about education and the Maoist Insurgency of my beloved Nepal. After giving my prof a few of the key points I want to cover he suggested that I include an overriding topic of education’s potential to be either for social transformation or indoctrination.

Change the social to personal and I could write a whole thesis on this- “The ruin of Christianity: when evangelism turns from personal transformation to indoctrination.”

Too bad I’m not in seminary! Oh well, I don’t need to write a whole paper on that because I’ve already seen this in so much of the world- even in Asian churches.

One last note… I do want to clarify that there is consistency in both my ‘evangelism’ blogs…. The water pump analogy- the people are drinking dirty water and I never said let them keep drinking dirty water… and education- I never said stop educating… Evangelism- it’s necessary, it’s biblical and I am in no way saying it shouldn’t be done. Those of you who know me, know that I evangelize all the time… My point is just to take a minute to reflect how it is done.

A true story….
Once upon a time a zealous development group saw a very realistic solution to eradicate the immense problem of contaminated water throughout one state in India. It would only take installing 100,000 or so critically placed, newly designed water pumps from which local families could fetch water. Seeing the problem’s obvious solution the aid group got to work.

A year later the group revisited the state expecting to find glowing families rejoicing ‘round the new water pumps with healthy babies free from water carried diseases. Yet the water pumps were quiet and the handles only gaining action from the rust of neglect. The group was dumbfounded. Why would the people choose to continue on with their bad water when good water had become more than accessible?!

Turns out the engineers forgot to ask one simple question- which family member is primarily responsible for fetching the water? The answer was also the answer to the failure of the project. The children were the water fetchers. The children not only couldn't reach the handles of the pumps, they also lacked the strength necessary to operate them. Good intentions sometimes mean a whole lot of nothing but wasted money and losing face.

Was the group novice in the area of international development? Was this their first project? Surprisingly (or maybe not), this organization has been around for over 50 years and is a household name across the globe.

My first question upon hearing this story was, what if the group had merely installed the pumps and went home with no further analysis?

If the group had just done their project and left with no further involvement… what would have happened? The group would have gone home, patted themselves on the back for hard work and thanked whomever needed thanking- taking glory and giving glory…boasting for something that really was nothing more than a façade- because in reality, that state of India would still be drinking dirty water.

And this pertains to evangelism how?
I once knew a guy, Patrick, who was adamantly anti-Christianity. With a smirk one day he said to me, “You know I got ‘saved’ once. It was at some church camp I went to with my friend in junior high. I went up at the whole big altar call moment and confessed I was a sinner. The leaders all congratulated me an everything- they thought I was really a Christian. Funny thing is, I bet somewhere someone is counting me as one boy they helped get saved. In the books of Christian evangelism I’m another checked off thing already done- but really, I never got saved at all.”

Someone had thought to have altered Patrick’s life- probably using it as a testimony to the success of the camp… and yet, in reality Patrick was still drinking dirty water. Can we measure the results of evangelism by only looking at the here and now? Is holding an event and counting the number of people coming forth at an altar call evidence enough of the results of a certain missional project or are we just boasting of people still drinking dirty water for the sake of numbers?

Maybe we as Christians are too easily disappointed and thus we want to believe the best, the highest count- even if deep down we know it's probably inaccurate. Who wants to hear, ‘you dedicated your life to certain people who only promenaded around for a short stint of life as a Christian when in the end, only really one ever truly grasped the meaning of the love of Christ and held on to it.’ Maybe we Christians aren’t satisfied with devoting our lives because we are called to be obedient… maybe there is a level of pride that makes us only feel useful if we have something tangible- even if it turns out we're really holding nothing at all.

And the water pump analogy continues…
The second question I had from the water pump story was how could a group with such good intentions be so ignorant to the necessary components to making the project successful? This wasn’t their first project and surely their intentions were never to waste money, to take the time to do a project that really never actualized into anything at all… yet, that’s what happened.


The correlation to Evangelism is what?
I have mentioned my Tibetan refugee friend, Neema before. Neema once told me of a Christian group that came and handed out Bibles in his Tibetan refugee camp. This evangelical Christian groupis not at all new to the 'business' of evangelism yet they seemed to forget to ask the necessary question- can the refugees in this camp read? You guessed it- the people are illiterate.

There is no one-size-fits all solution to running a business, doing relief work, or evangelising to people. Why is it that so many Christians operate in such a manner? Jesus told parables that made sense to those he was telling because he wanted to be effective- he wanted to meet people where they were. Why is it that us Christians are so often trying to have others meet us where we are while we are evangelising?

The moral of the story is…
No matter how much zeal is burgeoning from within- take a minute. Pray. Reflect. Then act. Be moved by God not by self. If you really listen, God will tell you how He wants to reach someone- and my guess is, 99.9% of the time it’s not going to be by giving illiterate people bibles…but in the .01% chance that it is what God’s asking you to do you better be willing to do it because you never know when that person is going to learn to read or who might get their hands on that bible. But always remember…lots of bad things have come in life from jumping the gun- including the evangelism gun. True faithfulness is both being still and going forward.

“For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.” Philippians 1:29

“To Suffer Christianly”- Soren Kierkegaard

What is decisive in Christian suffering? It lies in the fact that it is voluntary- “on account of the Word” and “for righteousness’ sake.” The disciples left everything to follow Christ. Their sacrifice was voluntary. Someone may be unfortunate to lose everything he owns and has; but he has not given up the least thing. Not like the Apostles! Herein lies the confusion.

In today’s Christianity we take ordinary human suffering and turn it into a Christian example. “Everyone has a cross to bear.” We preach unavoidable human trials into being Christian suffering. How this happens is beyond me! To lose everything and give up everything are nomt synonymous. To the contrary, the difference between them is infinite. If I happen to lose everything, this is one thing. But if I voluntarily give up everything, choose danger and difficulties, this is something entirely different. When this happens it is impossible to avoid the trial that comes with carrying Jesus’ cross. This is what Christian suffering means, and it is a whole scale deeper than ordinary human adversity.

In ordinary human suffering there exists, unlike in Christian suffering, no self-contradiction. There is no self-denial in my wife’s dying a natural death- after all, she is mortal. There is no self-denial in my losing my possessions- after all, they are perishable. In Christian suffering, however, self-contradiction is necessary. It is this that constitutes the possibility of offense.
This is why the remedy seems infinitely worse than the sickness. “But if you hand or your foot offends you, cut it off and throw it from you…” (matt 18:8-9). Christ says: If you want to avoid the real offense, cut off your hand, tear out your eye, even let yourself be castrated for the sake of God’s kingdom (Matt 19:12). His word offends our sinful nature. Such a remedy, according to established wisdom, is nothing but madness, much worse than the sickness. Why should I do that? Christ answers: in order to avoid the real offense, that is, in order to become new and enter into life.

Nowadays we can become of live as Christians in the most pleasant way and without ever risking the slightest possibility of offense. All we have to do is start with the status quo and observe good virtues (good-better-best). We can continue to make ourselves comfortable by scraping together the world’s goods, as long as we stir into the pot what is Christian as seasoning, an ingredient that almost serves to refine our enjoyment of life. This kind of Christianity is but a religious variation of the world’s unbelief, a movement without budging from the spot. That is to say, it is a simulated motion.

Jesus speaks of how tribulation and persecution come on account of the Word, and as a result, how one is immediately offended. The emphasis lies upon “on account of the Word.” Let me clarify this. When in sickness I go to a physician, he may find it necessary to prescribe a very painful treatment. Here there is no self-contradiction in my submitting to his remedy, for it is only a matter of time before I am healed. On the other hand, if I suddenly find myself in trouble, an object of persecution, because I have gone to that physician, well, then there is a true self-contradiction. The fact that I get involved with this physician, the Great Physician, and attach myself to Him, that is what makes me an object of persecution. Herein lies the possibility of offense; herein lies the terror.

Christ unabashedly speaks of what would await his disciples when they witness to him in the world. “This I have told you so that you will not be offended. They will exclude you from the synagogues, yes, the time will come when whoever kills you will think he is offering God a service” (John 16:1; Matt 16:23). The possibility of offense consists in being persecuted, ridiculed, cast out from society, misunderstood, and finally put to death- and in such a way that those who do it think they are doing God, or the cause of righteousness, a service. It is to this suffering Christ speaks and promises heaven’s reward.

Whether you experience adversities in life, whether things perhaps go downhill for you, though you as a Christian will most assuredly bear these sufferings patiently, unlike many others in the world, however patiently you bear them, this suffering is not yet akin to Christ’s suffering. To suffer Christianly is not to endure the inescapable but to suffer evil at the hands of people because you voluntarily will and endeavor to do only the good: to willingly suffer on account of the Word and for the sake of righteousness. This is how Christ suffered.

Reprinted from http://www.bruderhof.com/. Copyright 2002 by The Bruderhof Foundation, Inc. Used with permission.

"The U.S. driven effort to globalize markets--and remake human society-- could be as dangerous to democratic middle-class civilization as the false utopia of Marxism was earlier in this century." -The Japan Times, July 13, 1998

What do Market and Marxist Utopians have in common?
"their cult of reason and efficiency, their ignorance of history and their contempt for the ways of life they consign to poverty and extinction."
-John Gray. "False Dawn: The delusions of Global Capitalism"

GATT (general agreement of trade and tariffs) really stands for Greed, Agression and Theft through Trade

APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation) really stands for Asian People Exercise Caution!

I recently told someone that I am the type of girl who likes to rip band-aids off quick and fast rather than slow and drawn out. One nice, quick yank and it’s done. Yes it stings for a little bit, but then it’s over. I don’t even like to give band-aids prior contemplation. I put the little suckers out of sight and out of mind- no deliberating over the things about to come, no worrying about tomorrow’s pain.

I used to think that was how I liked things. But in recent times, a friend of mine contacted me to tell me goodbye. His life has been hijacked by a terminal disease demanding full possession in but a short time. I’ve never had such a conversation in all my life. Definitely one of those times you don’t know what to say or do.

Somehow I got to be the blessed and chosen friend first to know. He has known for a while, but hasn’t told anyone of his soon and coming death. My friend somehow feels that he is sparing his friends pain by facing death alone until the very last hour. He wants to wait until the last minute to rip off the band-aid his loved ones don’t even know they are wearing.

I feel cheated. I have two band-aids and they are getting ripped off simultaneously. Before I can heal from the first one- the knowledge that my friend’s facing his departure; the second one- his actual death; is already getting ripped off quick and far from painless.

I wish I would have got to rip the first one off slowly alongside my friend. I wish that when he found out he was about to die and his band aid started getting ripped off slowly. . . I could have began ripping my first one off as well.

I love ya, bro.

PS- I know that there is at least one person reading this thinking, ‘is this about Anand?!?!’ While this seems like a very Anand-like thing to do- no, it’s not about Anand.