Thoughts From the Road: SE ASIA

Below are a handful of the raw thoughts that I’ve been thinking and feeling my way through so far on the trip.  Much like cooking in a well-stocked kitchen, these are simply ingredients that I’m starting to get my arms around…maybe I’m baking a cake, maybe it’s an omelet…nevertheless, not really trying to make sense of what it all means just yet…just want to be vulnerable with the adventure I’m on, but also with the things that this journey has provoked from a spiritual sense as well…nothing in life is one dimensional…so here’s what I’m observing in myself by being here, just wanted to share as I think these are probably good questions to ask no matter what.

1.  Fear…Motorbikes in Hanoi – it takes all of 10 seconds to notice the swarms of people on motor bikes in Vietnam, just about everywhere they out number every car nearby by about 20 to 1.  Most intersections are uncontrolled, or I’ll say it this way, if they are controlled, most people don’t stop.  Everywhere you turn there’s people cruising carry ladders, building supplies, huge bushels of food…family of 4? No problem, load em on the bike and go.  It’s amazing to see, and frankly has given me a lot to think about in terms of how we define safety for ourselves.  Safety I’m convinced is entirely relative, and largely a matter of that  which is familiar, the things we regularly practice, and that which we perceive.  There is no reason a child of 2 years old should be entirely at ease while his Dad swerves amidst the swarms of other bikes with his mom and sister on the back as the whole family barely dodges nearby motorists.  In my few days in Hanoi, I never saw a kid on a bike appear to be scared, and I also never saw two bikes or any two vehicles for that matter in a wreck.  I took a ride on a motorbike piloted by a 65 year old man through Hanoi’s back alleys, and in truth the world is different in the flow of things…nevertheless the whole experience raised up a lot of interesting thoughts on how I view fear, how I view comfort, and how I respond to the environments I find myself in.  As stupid as it is there is a great line in the trailer for Will Smith’s new summer movie he says “Fear is not real…Danger is real” or something to that effect, and I think that’s the truth…fears and insecurities are often not real, they are a warped reality in which we choose to reside.  Processing through areas in life I think I’m safe, and how I view “safety” and fear in general…relationally…circumstantially…professionally…spiritually. 

2. White Noise – over here there is practically zero stimulus that registers with me.  By that I mean, all the conversations that I walk by, all the adverts and media on the streets, they are all incomprehensible to me.  While the sights and sounds are all very real, they register on a very subconscious level.  It’s amazing what freeing all that bandwidth does to what we see, hear, think and feel in an environment.  Being here in a lot of ways has become like white noise for me, it is not the absence of sensation, however it is a null value to my brain which has given way to me paying attention to a lot of details that I would almost surely miss in my own environment.  This goes to say for both what I physically encounter as well as the content, depth, and duration of my thoughts.  It’s been quite therapeutic so far.

3.   Being Strange – over here it’s very easy to THINK that everything is exotic, or weird, or strange.  There are not many white faces, there are not many “western” things.  I have to constantly remind myself however, that I am the visitor here, I am the strange one.  The things which I find fascinating or odd are simply a part of normal life for these people.  It’s been great to think about what this means for how I view things and people at home.  Similar to my observation on the relativity of fear, I believe there is a relativity of normal for all of us.  Processing through what much of that means, thinking how to be considerate of other peoples normal/strange, but above all I think I’m learning a lot about what it might mean to embrace people with no questions asked.

4.   Human Constants – while not much else translates from our culture to the culture over here, seeing the constant human elements (family, joy, laughing, children playing) is so amazing.  In truth we’re as similar or as different as we chose to perceive…ultimately we can choose what we cling to, both are important, but neither define us entirely.  Trying to think about the things in my life that cultivate the unification of people and a deeper sense of love for those I’m blessed enough to share this life with…maybe that means new relationships or simply adjusting my world view.  I guess the trick becomes to find and acknowledge the importance of the things that we share without undermining or neglecting the things that make us different.

5. Craftsmanship – it doesn't take long in these ancient places to see that there is a pride in craftsman ship that our culture has long since forgotten…I don’t really know what to do with it, but I want to cultivate an artisan, craftsman approach to my life…there is a reason that people from all over the world come to see some of these relics, I fear for this modern generation that we might not leave anything worth a shit for the generations to follow…again, processing through this one.  Thinking about what my crafts are, what they should be, and what the labor of time, dedication, and patience can yield in my work, my life, and my relationships.

6. Sacrifice – in visiting the temples around here it is very traditional for the people to make sacrifices to the Buddhist gods, praying for good fortune and blessing for and from those in the afterlife.  Food, money, and other things of value all are used…been thinking a lot about the cathartic power of letting go, laying stuff down, offering things sacrificially in my life.  It really does take a great deal of faith to let go of the things of value in our world, and trust that there is more to life than food, money, jobs, social status…it’s a long list, and worth thinking about.

7.  Poverty – it may go without saying that these countries are not the wealthiest places on earth.  I’m sure by a technical definition most of the people I’ve encountered are living below the poverty line.  That said, I have not yet been approached by a single person asking for a handout.  People will beg you for your business, but there doesn't appear to be a sense of expectation that the solution to poverty in these people’s eyes is solved by being given more.  They seem to understand that to provide for themselves and their families takes winning business and working hard.  Ironic that this would be the case in a communist country where we’d expect the opposite, and that frequently in our capitalist country the poor are looking for formal or informal financial aid (a very communist idea).  Leaves a lot to consider about our attitude towards commerce, working hard, poverty and the whole bucket of social issues that are attached.  If we enabled the poor to have better opportunities would our attitude towards poverty change? – I stole this thought from someone else…but it’s a good one.

8.  Improvising – I woke up my last morning in Hanoi feeling quite antsy, I didn’t feel like my heart really wanted to go to Ho Chi Mihn my next planned stop.  Instead I wanted a quieter, less urban, more off the beaten path destination.  I mulled it over for a good few hours and decided I wanted something different than my original plan and that despite the fact that I felt bound to some arbitrary itinerary I created, I gave myself the freedom to change the plan.  It was 100% the right move, I ended up in Hoi An a quiet town near the ocean, and had a wonderful two days there.  This was a big point of contemplation for me and frankly a much needed life reminder, too often I get enough momentum in life that I forget to think about what it is I am actually doing and why I started doing it in the first place.  I am learning it takes bravery sometimes to change the plan, it takes admitting we don’t know as much as we thought we once did, it takes being willing to move around life as opposed to trying to move life around yourself.  Just because we’re willing to change doesn’t mean that we’re guaranteed to find satisfaction, change in its best form is a mechanism to better align our actions with our beliefs and desires, change at its worst is a cheap and selfish tactic to avoid wrestling with the cause of our dissatisfaction.  My time in Hoi An had an equal chances of being awesome as it did of being terrible, what made it great was the fact that I chose to find the incredible things about my time there…I could have easily found the same in Ho Chi Mihn, it wasn’t my location that needed to change, it was my attitude towards the journey I am on.

So much love for you all…thanks for being a part of the adventure.

Hugs,

CP

Salvation Mountain :: Painted Clay

             

   Two years ago I had an idea.  It wasn’t necessarily a very good idea, but for some reason this particular thought of mine wouldn’t seem to go away.  I can’t recall what specifically triggered it or from where it came, maybe it was some photographs I had seen, maybe it was a quote from a movie, maybe it was some reading I had done, but nevertheless I decided that it would be a good idea to go visit Salvation Mountain.  I think it’s important to note that I have approximately a thousand of these types of thoughts a day, so to have something be so inexplicably persistent does bear some significance.  I believe God often works through the strange desires of our hearts, I believe he nests in each of us a very individual set of things that serve as beacons to find him. In my life, the times I most readily find God are those when I’ve taken the time to listen (and more importantly to act) and trust that the simple and strange things of my heart are good.

                Now Salvation Mountain isn’t necessarily an ordinary tourist destination, in fact every time I’ve mentioned it to friends over the past months I’ve had to try to explain what it is.  I’ve heard Salvation Mountain described as everything from an art fixture to a shrine, and while on the surface those classifications seem fitting, I guess I’ve come to learn that it might be something more.  In its simplest form Salvation Mountain is nothing more than painted adobe and other assorted debris arranged with care in the middle of the desert.  In honesty, I expected nothing more, however, in the aftermath of my visit I have come to see the profound way that a simple man used the things that this world has discarded and transformed them into a testament of his love.

As a brief history, Leonard Knight started a project outside of Niland, CA back in the Early 80’s transforming a small chunk of the dessert into a painted monument to God’s love.  Knight, born in 1931 as the fourth of six children in Burlington Vermont certainly had his fair share of life before he moved to Niland.  Drafted at the age of 20 he served in the Korean war.  He worked painting cars.  He taught Guitar lessons.  In 1967, however, while visiting his sister in California, Leonard’s life took a turn, he met Jesus.  At the age of 35, by himself in a van, Leonard prayed that the Lord might enter his life, and that prayer was answered.  Ignited by his new passion, and some strange (maybe even divine) inspiration, Leonard spent the next 14 years of his life working to patch together a giant hot air balloon with the sinners prayer embroidered on the side, it was the same prayer that changed his life, and he wanted to share it with the world.  After a long road, a road that I could only imagine contained miles of fabric, Leonard’s efforts were frustrated.  That same long road had somehow landed Leonard in Niland, but the dead end of one road would turn out to be a marvelous intersection pointing a new course towards a new journey.  Leonard had intended to stay behind in Niland only for a week to make a “small statement” before returning to his home at the time in Arizona.  With little else besides some cement and paint, his project began.  Needless to stay, that week in 1984 extended up through this last December when Leonard was moved to a home for health reasons.  Leonard made his small statement, and it stands 4 stories tall in the desert, painted bright, a sign of true life in a place marked otherwise only by desolation.  If you ever go out to the Mountain, you’ll certainly see that there are a wide variety of themes, everything from birds to bible verses to hearts, and while the subject matter itself does seem to lack an aesthetic continuity there is no doubt that Leonard has effectively used his medium to communicate his message.  In a single word, the message is love.

                For some reason since the New Year I had a growing sense of urgency to go visit Salvation Mountain, so I made a promise to myself the next time I set foot in California I’d use whatever means necessary to make it out to the desert.  Two weeks ago that opportunity presented itself, so I caught a late flight from San Francisco to Palm Springs so as to have a somewhat reasonable launching point to make the two hour trek East to Niland.  I got in late and planned to start early the next morning to try to beat the heat.  As it turns out the desert gets hot in the middle of the summer, so I figured it might help me enjoy my visit if I could avoid exposure to 115 degree heat.

                If you were to look up Niland on a map desolate doesn’t really do it justice.  Heading East from Palm Springs there is little besides the coast of the Salton Sea that stands between you and Niland.  The landscape is flat and vacant but for the spattering of rickety telephone poles plotting the course of the rail line that runs well into the horizon and on towards Yuma.  Along the way were maybe 3 or 4 small roadside stores, 2 or 3 of which have the appearance of having long since been vacated.  It’s no wonder the Navy Seals have picked the desert lands outside of Niland to host their land warfare training operations…if they need land, Niland’s got plenty of it, and not much of anything else.

As I started my drive, signs of life became increasingly sparse, the pharmacies and shopping markets disappeared and nothing was left but open road.  Needless to say it was a quiet drive, I actually came as a surprise when I came upon other motorists at all.  Part of me desired to wave the other cars to the side of the road to point them back west for surely, in my mind, they must have been lost.  Before long the roads were clear, so with my imagination sitting shotgun, I savored the still desert morning and wondered what I might find down this bleak desert highway.

                After spending an hour traveling along the coast of the Salton Sea, I arrived in Niland.  The town comes and goes in a blink, I can only surmise that the there might me a  mere 4 or 5 streets in total that compose the quant oasis.   As I turned through town and set out to cross over the train tracks that had guided my journey east, the roads were marked as having been closed.  I paid no mind only because I had no other choice, only one road leads to the mountain, so despite my hesitation to proceed I had no other options.  The night before my arrival a flash flood had moved through the area, and as I passed through town and made my way towards the mountain the roads were littered with old tires and debris washed out from the desert by the rain.  As I wove through the mounds of washed out sand and trash that covered the road, the mountain appeared in the distance and there it stood a small statement in the desert standing tall.

                I wish that I had made the journey sooner and had the pleasure to meet Leonard, I had so many questions I wanted to ask, really I just wanted to hear his story, but part of me knew his story still lived out there in the lonely painted hills even though he did not.  And so I was left only to imagine, to wonder what love might have compelled such a task.  In his absence a group of caretakers have adopted the mountain to protect Leonard’s legacy, a couple from Portland was on duty when I crossed the rusty gate’s threshold to approach the mountain.  They were moved by Leonard’s dream and decided to leave their home on the coast for a life in the desert, I’m sure that they would struggle to explain why, but maybe that same persistent nudging that drew me to the mountain found a way to pull their heartstrings as well…and they simply listened. 

My self guided tour lasted no more than 30 minutes, because frankly there just wasn’t more to see, but as I wandered around I couldn’t help but think about the big love, the love of Jesus that compels such beautiful acts of insanity in men.  The mountain had sustained some damage from the rains, and the desert’s harsh climate had certainly left a mark on its brightly painted surface, but I think that, in and of itself, is a profound statement, maybe in a way it’s God’s contribution to Leonard’s work.  Despite the wear and tear, the colors still were vibrant, the theme was still clear, the small statement to me now appeared much more like a battle cry than it did a whisper in the desert.

On the drive back to “civilization” I turned off the radio, and sat quietly meditating on what love means in my life, somehow the road back to what we know as “life” seemed ironic coming from that place.  In some way Los Angeles now seemed far more desolate than Niland, despite the ready appearance of life, the sparseness of that crazy kind of love rendered much of the landscape I now saw lifeless.  On the surface Salvation Mountain is unspectacular, it might never be heralded in the same regard as the Vatican or the other relics of faith that we find around the world.  Ultimately though, I think I’m coming to understand that love is far more like painted clay in the desert than it is gold on a steeple.  It’s real, it’s tough, it’s seldom what we expect, but when we hold it in the context of the hands that shape it we may just come to understand it as beautiful.

So much of what we believe about the secular constructs of love is built by lofty polished notions, they’re fun to look at and dream about, they inspire awe, but they are flawed in that often “self” is the center of the way execute loving each other.  I think we desire love to be a thing that is shiny and new looking, but real love is battle worn and its precious characteristics it is seldom made from gold.  Jesus was born in a stable, he was a man of humble means, and he lived a life immersed in an ordinary world made of “clay”.  When I think about what love is really meant to be and the way I believe I’m supposed to be living it out, I would hope that it bears some resemblance to Leonard’s work through the Mountain.  I believe love is a hard labor, I believe it is messy; I believe that on the surface it can appear unspectacular, and in its finest moments it makes no sense.  For those of us who know it however, the only thing that truly makes no sense is to love any other way.  I know that there are times in my life that I feel like I’m living in the desert and it seems like I’m a bit crazy, but part of the miracle is that the love of Christ compels us to those places not as lonesome travelers but as companions of HIS towards some greater end.  And while life might leave us a little worn down from the harsh conditions of this world, I do believe that love’s colors posses a resilience that shine brightly even despite the foreboding conditions we face.  Even though the “small statements” of sacrifice, steadfast, crazy love may go understated on the surface, they have an affinity to create real change and they possess longevity quite unlike anything I know.

When I think about Salvation Mountain, I can’t help but think about God’s love, I think this would make Leonard happy to know.  What’s stranger is that there’s a God who loves me enough to make a guy like Leonard who is crazy enough about him to show me just how crazy God is about me.  So much about Leonard’s project makes no sense, but I think that in part is what love is all about.  Love, real love, does that which no one else is willing to do, it does that which cannot be explained, and it does so in ways that despite the fact that they may never understood seem to resonate so deeply and profoundly that they leave a real lasting mark.  At the end of the day, love seems to breathe life into the deserted places of this world, it withstands the desolation to ignite our lives with color.  This is the truest testament of Christ’s love for us, that despite how unlovable we might in fact be, he loved us anyways, not for his sake but for ours…love is a creation work, and much like Salvation Mountain, salvation itself is the creation of life where before love’s breath no life could have existed.

While I have never met Leonard, it seems like he was a simple man who followed his heart and trusted God to make something beautiful out of the love he had found.  He never questioned the rationale behind it, he never doubted the significance, he just moved forward in trust and in hope believing that the miracle of God’s love would be enough to see him through.  I guess to me the miracle is something even bigger, the miracle is that not only would God’s love be enough to sustain, but its sufficient to sprout new beautiful life in the most unsuspecting of places.  I want to love like Leonard, because I think Leonard loved like Jesus, and as strange as it appears on the surface it truly is a beautiful thing.

Painting Clay,

CP 

Enjoyment

          Today for the first time in a long while, I am on a plane bound to New York.  It’s been a long time since I spent extended time in this great city, and much has happened since then.  Back in 2006 I had the privilege of working on a project in the heart of Manhattan.  That summer was a beautiful and strange time in my life.  I had no way of knowing at the time, but in a lot of ways, it was the beginning of a great journey that has brought me to a place I never would have imagined and has taken a course that I could have never predicted.  There have been many twists and turns along the way, there have been some tough times, but mostly looking back there have been some very beautiful and very unique things that have risen from the ashes that in some strange mysterious way have shaped my life.  At the moments in life where things take a sudden turn it’s easy to feel like we’ve lost something or something has been taken away…but it turns out, nothing’s lost, we’re just being given something different, a different way forward, a new greater gift…it just takes a little time to see it with clarity.

That same summer I began to diligently chronicle my life via written word, the most prevalent relics are a series of letters I wrote to myself to serve as a compass of sorts to always point myself home.  To this day there some of the most cherished pieces I have penned, even despite that they have never been shared with another soul. 

On the plane ride in to NY I read the first installment in the series of letters that I have written annually around my birthday.  In 2006 it turns out I thought I had reached some point of epiphany in my young life.  I thought for the first time it looked like everything was coming together in beautiful, simple harmony, but man was I wrong.  I had this expectation and hope for the course my life was on, but it seemed the Lord had some very special and very different plans.  I am probably being melodramatic, but at the time it wasn’t the most comfortable process to let the Lord loosen my grip on just about every aspect of this life.  My relationships, my career, my dreams, my fears, every thread of who I thought I was has since then undergone some sort of radical transformation in to something far greater than I would have dared to dream.  It is almost as if that first letter in 2006 was a ticket to a wild ride that I’ve been on ever since.  Maybe the ride started far earlier and I simply don’t possess a mechanism to recall the steep slopes I’ve traversed, but nevertheless, all I know is that regardless of when the ride started, it’s been amazing.

It’s almost comical how the Lord used the shattering of my expectations for him to reveal himself as something greater.  But for this I couldn’t be more thankful, I think part of me might have crafted a safer tamer God, a smoother less bumpy ride if given the choice, but it turns out that if I got my way I’d have something far less spectacular.  What’s odd is I don’t feel like I’ve ever really set the bar too low or hedged my bets in terms of the way I hope, dream, and love.  Looking back however, it seems like I was being lead to have a notion of love that is bigger still (and getting bigger all the time).  I’m thankful the path I’ve been on hasn’t met my expectations but rather it’s shaped my expectations into something more wild and free.  It just so turns out I needed that over the past few years, and it’s done a wonderful number on me.   Man, am I glad the Lord is in the business of meeting my needs not bowing to my expectations…because the two are vastly different beasts.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the Westminster Catechism of Faith, which states that the chief end of man is “To glorify God and enjoy him forever…”.  The thing that always strikes me as profound is how our enjoyment is paramount in this lifetime.  In some sort of odd way, a lot of the circumstantial questions in my life are largely unresolved, but yet somehow over the years I’ve found a new, different kind of peace about all the stuff that society tells me I have to “figure out”.  Maybe this is the very enjoyment we’re called to seek out.  Whether we’re given moments of certainty or mystery, stability or chaos, war or peace, we’re given moments…and regardless of the circumstantial anatomy of what we get, it is my deepest and truest belief that they’re all gifts.  And once we view them as such, there is a transformative power we receive that allows us to steward and enjoy all our moments in newer richer ways.  It's a very hand to mouth way to live, but only when we stop worrying about where the next meal comes from will we then allow ourselves to savor the richness and flavors of the meal we have today.  Stranger still seems to be the fact that the moments which I find myself immersed in deepest enjoyment tend to be the moments where God is most glorified…turns out they’re one and the same.  A beautiful marriage of glory and joy.

In any case, it’s good to be here now, to savor this city, to savor the strangers and the pace, the bigness of it all and to remember the intricate design that’s played out over the past years.  While I’ve always felt like a sojourner in this town, it’s familiar enough to hold a key which unlocks some wonderful memories.  I look forward to the days ahead, yet not too far ahead, just taking each moment as a gift and doing what I can to light up the darkness.

CP

Finding My Way Home

Below is the story of my journey home for the holidays last year. This was written last January, but has been resonating strongly in my heart. Its good to be home.

You should also watch this once you're done.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QO50jHl2LLY

the story...starts...now.

With a flash, Christmas had arrived, and it was time for me to make my first journey back home to Texas to spend some time with Family and Friends for the holidays. The trip would be short, as over the prior summer I had seen fit to book a trip with a group of long time friends to head to Africa for two weeks to Summit Mt. Killimanjaro, and then to move on to Zanzibar for a nice beach holiday to find rest and respite from the winter’s cold which was now in full swing in the UK.

As the days to my return home neared it seemed that the journey would not be without complication, as an early winter snow storm had taken grip of London and had proven sufficient to cripple transport around town. More importantly Heathrow Airport was found entirely unprepared for such weather and was suffering days of back to back closures, stranding thousands of travelers in the airport’s sterile corridors hoping and waiting to make their journey home. Headlines were dominated by images of thousands of people stranded, sleeping on floors and in hallways, trying to find their way to the ones they love.

Despite the troubles the snow had caused for so many, London was beautiful for those days leading up to my departure, Hyde Park was covered in a blanket of white and its ponds were frozen through and through, making the normally lush green space a crisp and wintery playground. I left one morning to go for a winter’s run, and found the park in a quiet hum of activity as many had seen fit to take advantage of the beauty and wonder of pre-Christmas snow around London’s more typically wet and dreary streets.

As I trotted along my typical trails, I realized that the manicured pathways were irrelevant that day as the park had been converted to a single white blanket of snow dabbled with snowmen and families strolling in wonder. I cut through the sparse trees and towards round pond, and then slowly made my way towards the Serpentine and then back past the Peter Pan Statue through Kensington Gardens. My mind wandered different directions with thoughts of the months before as my feet carefully trodden the hard frozen ground. As I made my way, I hoped the beauty at my feet wouldn’t serve to add my name to the list of those stranded in London over the holidays without the comfort of family or long time friends to warm the cold holiday nights.

A friend of mine was scheduled to fly out that Sunday, his flights were cancelled and had been rescheduled to head to California on Christmas Eve. I knew that if I didn’t make it out on the following Tuesday, when I was scheduled to fly, that I was stuck. I kept hopeful knowing that no volume of my thoughts or concerns could change the weather, so I resigned to enjoy those last few days and readied myself for both my trip home.

So in those final nights, the roar of my Christmas social schedule had been dulled to a whimper and I had a few quiet moments to gather my thoughts and things. My first two months had been amazing, and far exceeded anything that I could have hoped, yet I was ready for a trip home to get reacquainted with the life and lives I had left behind. While I was content where I was and with the progress I had made, knowing that so many dear friends were within reach only served to fuel my excitement of the trip home. On the cold morning of December 21^st, I woke up early to endeavor to get home.

My casual work schedule hadn’t served me well that day, as my urgency to get out the door wasn’t appropriate for what little time I had to actually get to the airport. But with what felt like ample time to spare I made my way to the my Underground stop, to get to Paddington and then onward to catch a train to Heathrow. In typical fashion, seconds of delays can translate into minutes, and in some case hours of disruption in London. I arrived at my stop just in time to wait, and wait, I began to get impatient as the typically slow moving train was most surely delayed by some strange circumstance, I chalked it up to the weather and waited alone on the empty platform.

Before long I could hear the train rumbling down the tracks, and attempted to make the quick transfer at Paddington station. I arrived in perfect time to see the train to the airport pull away without me, just a few seconds earlier and this wouldn’t have been my fate. I had been preparing myself for the heartbreak of having my flights cancelled so my expectations were well tempered, but now the idea of heartbreak had been replaced by a thing much more like reality. My resignation to chaos needed fine tuning, this was nothing I could control, and so I deepened my resolve and carried on. It would be twenty minutes before the next train departed, so there was nothing I could do now, but wait.

The night prior I had watched an old Christmas film that was blessed by the Beatles tune, “All You Need Is Love”, the simple chorus became my mantra that morning, and so I hummed in repetition and in some cases quietly sang to myself “All you need is Love…”. I assumed I couldn’t be heard, but either way I wasn’t self conscious in the slightest, as the simple tune seemed to quiet my hearts concerns in steady time. Ironically the Film, Love Actually, which was okay, not by any means the best I had seen, both opened and concluded at Heathrow’s arrival gates. While the film in total had no major resonation with me, it did contain images of people reuniting, sharing deep forgotten embrace, showered in love, they had arrived home. Now this, this thing, struck a chord in my heart. Thoughts of how richly blessed I was to be where I was, doing what I was doing, to be loved, to be known, to be wild…Life was amazing, and I was deep in its veins.

Twenty minutes passed at a snail’s pace, and while the humming was losing its effectiveness I assured myself that it would all sort out and it was beyond my influence in any case. I checked my watch. If things went smoothly from here in I’d be fine, but who knew what I’d find at the airport turned homeless shelter upon my arrival. Aboard the train the BBC broadcast news of terminal closures, of which mine was included. I had called the airline earlier that day and was told things were on schedule and my flight was one of a few planned departure, yet I didn’t know who to believe nor what was true. So I made my way to the check in line, and waded through a scene that was unlike any airport chaos I’d ever seen.

Lines of people streamed out the terminal doors, and inside, the chaos was consolidated but entirely uncontained. Queues of frustrated travelers snaked around the stanchions for what must have been miles. There weren’t many happy faces that day, and looks of caution seemed in fashion as everyone appeared to comprehend the delicate nature of the situation. I was lucky enough to have a relatively short line, and I had an hour and twenty five minutes before my flight departed. Above the check in sign a note read “Check-ins must be completed prior to 1 hour before departure’, I checked my watch again and cautiously counted the heads in front of me. I have a trained analytical mind, so doing math in moments like these seemed to provide the comfortable illusion of control. I hummed the chorus again, and hoped the pace would quicken..."all you need is love..."

I stood in line and watched the minutes tick away, I looked around as the expanse of humanity seemed to unravel before my eyes. First a young woman burst into tears and began sobbing, while I’m unsure of her plight I can only imagine this was the culmination of days of frustration and cancellations. I assumed she had just received the final and devastating news that she may never make it home. My heart broke a little for her and a then a little for myself, while my future was still unwritten, I could easily find myself in her shoes in a matter of minutes. Next, a young Asian man burst into hysterical crying, screaming loudly in agony as if his one true love, his only hope had just died in his arms. An airline employee, tried to help him find composure, but after long the poor girl realized that no amount of reassurance would suffice, and it would be best to let this unravel on its own. My heart slowly sunk within me, no longer concerned for myself, I felt a helpless sadness for these people, these strangers, whose circumstances were all too real to ignore.

I was pulled into a separate line, to help facilitate the check in rate, so I stood alone behind the red ribbon band that separated me from the next available attendant who was helping one last customer. I had five minutes until the hour deadline would arrive, surely I’d be fine. I kept humming and watched the clock steadily pass. I searched my mind for a scenario that would allow me to not be frustrated at the man in front of me who seemed to be taking an eternity, and while I drew blanks, I knew we were all subject to a different authority in the airport and perhaps it was best to not employ the sake of my imagination for any cause as it would only prove to lead my mind and heart to a reality that might not be my own. At two minutes past the hour I was finally called to learn my fate..."all you need is love..."

The attendant confirmed my deepest fears that the flight was now closed, but immediately assured she’d be able to get me on. I recounted the past hour, had I left my flat a bit earlier, maybe caught the first train, perhaps this would have felt like a smaller victory, but my heart was blessed and richly so to know I was going home. After checking my bag, I resumed my humming with new fervor and made my way through security and into the eerily vacant halls of Heathrow’s Terminal 3, I was going home..."all you need is love..."

The halls were mine to roam, and so the hum turned to a quiet singing as a sigh of contentment passed through my lungs. As I slowly walked down that empty walkway, thoughts of the prior night’s movie crept into my head, and then quickly faded into the darkness as the light of my recollections of the past few months, the richness of God’s blessing, and the anticipation for all the great things I’d imagine would come upon my return grew bright and rich in my mind’s eye. I was living a life that only weeks prior I had believed was only a dream, and it was real, and it was beyond what I could have imagined; it was amazing. I think I couldn’t have hoped for so much in the days prior to leaving Texas, and yet here I was, in a new world, a big world, which seemed so full of new possibilities for me. At the end of the hall I could see the departure lounge was starting to clear as I made my way ahead on the metal moving walkways. And then, one stark image served to pierce all the events and feelings of that morning in a way I would have never guessed. "all you need is love..."

Amidst my musical pacing down that long hallway, my eyes were suddenly fixed to a most familiar face whose eyes and outspread arms seemed to embrace my very soul on first sight. Two years prior, I had taken a trip with a friend to visit Rio De Janeiro for a brief November adventure. In our time there we had made two trips to visit the Cristo Redento Statue (translated, Christ the Redeemer), which stands watch over Rio’s tropical shores. Our first trip up the steep slopes was thwarted by dense clouds, so dense in fact that we weren’t able to see past the tall statues shins. And while Christ’s shins should prove sufficient, we wanted the full view, so on our last day, when weather seemed to have cleared for the first time in days, we made a second trip up, hoping that the dotted clouds might break free and let us share in Christ’s view over that marvelous city. We were the first to arrive at the monument’s gate, and boarded a van alone to head to the top, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. No sooner had we arrived, had the clouds broken free to reveal the massive statue’s prominence with arms spread wide exposing the nail pierced hand’s of Christ, my friend, my redeemer. Set on a back drop of perfect blue sky, that image was one I would cherish, and would hope to never forget, and yet, some two years later, I found this same Christ as he peered out of a picture frame that hung on the wall, with arms outstretched as if to invite me in for a personal embrace.

I have a friend who always told me that coincidence is God’s fingerprints on our lives, and in that moment I couldn’t have agreed more. Who knows how many years that picture had hung, or if had even been noticed by the millions who passed it each year? Perhaps it was a relic from long ago, or maybe it had just been hung. Perhaps it had been a proposed addition to the hall that was subject to some budgetary debate or conflict to save money by the airports administrators. In any case, some interior decorator had managed to get it hung, and to hang it there where I would find it, and it was so perfectly what I needed in that moment.

I felt like somehow that picture was a clear message, a Holiday card from Christ himself, on his birthday to me. Here is what I imagined it would read:

“Chris,

Merry Christmas! I love finding you here and surprising you in this way, I know by your calendar I’m early as December 25^th is a few days away, but I think you’ll find that I’m right on time. I hope this holiday you know and understand that all you need is love, my love is all you need. I love you dearly, and I’m so glad you get to go home, and as you go, don’t forget that in my arms you’ll always find a home, forever. I am pleased to find you enjoying London, and I can’t wait to show you what’s next.

Merry Christmas,

JC”

I like to imagine that if Christ were here in person today, he’d send letters like that. At holidays, birthdays, big events and graduations, and sometimes at random occasions, just checking in, reaffirming his love, his dominion, and his well wishes for what is best in my heart and life. I need a personal Jesus, and I think that’s who Jesus is and was, the whole thing of faith, this world, and this life makes no sense to me without it. This is also part of the reason I send notes to people as frequently as is appropriate, for if Jesus doesn’t in fact have an email account, I might as well put mine to work on his behalf.

I stood for a moment and began to tear up with joy for all I’d been given, and for the simple blessing of going home. I was pleased to have found Christ there, and to be finding him daily in London, it was a good change for me, and I was reaffirmed in my course, and the course his hand was taking in my life. I didn’t know what lie ahead but whatever it was I would be pleased to find it when it came, and when it came I'd be pleased to know that there's always a way home...no matter how wild our adventures may be.

"All you need is..."

CP

Written 2008 - Rio. - http://chrispanoff.blogspot.com/2008/11/to-see-or-not-to-see-clouded-vision.html

Playing the Field

Life as we know it is a constantly changing battle field, where seemingly, in an instant the rules of the game and the circumstances of the playing field radically change. Though we might try to constrain and control life’s vast unpredictability, no sooner do we seemingly master the “rules of the game” do the very rules we’ve mastered become rendered obsolete by change. I think as I grow older, I learn more and more that the more I try to build complex rules of engagement into my life the less effective I become at everything I do. Today is different than yesterday, tomorrow will be different than today, as simple a truth as this may be, the more quickly we learn to embrace the fact that there is a constantly changing setting in which we must live the more quickly we can surrender ourselves to the renewal of our approach to life, love, and ourselves each day.

Each year, I try my best to go through two fundamental benchmarking exercises in my life, one for the past and one for the future. For the future, it's a matter of taking an assessment of where I am, where I’d like to go, and how I want to get there. For the past, I chronicle where I am, where I’ve been, and affirm the that which I have learned along the way. What’s interesting to me is that my plan for the future requires far more thought, yields much less joy, and seems to need constant revision to “update” for the reality of life’s dynamic nature. On the flipside, when I look at my past, and take a snap shot of all I’ve done, who I am, and affirm what truth is in my life, that seems so much clearer and it tends to yield far deeper reflection into the core of who I am as a young man.

It is easy to realize that the past is a far simpler beast than the future. The past it is anchored in time, it is unchangeable, it is unchanging, it simply is. The future, holds so much potential, and with our nature we as people naturally feel that the future is in our hands. We believe we can do things to dictate change, control the outcome, or alter our destiny. While I agree with the fact that we are in fact free-thinking, choice making creatures who largely get to decide certain things in our lives via our own freewill, I struggle with the fact that our freewill is not free from be imposed upon by our circumstances. No matter how much a prisoner wills to be free, how much the lame will to walk, how much the blind will to see, often will alone is not sufficient to alter the playing field of circumstance. So what then are we left with? How then will we try to build up the rules of engagement in our lives to account for such an untamable beast as the future?

As the years progress and I have the benefit of more experience, and more data points in my life with which to engage in my personal reflection/self assessment, the more I realize the more we need (I need) to cling to simple foundational truths in my life. I think part of the reason my yearly review of my past, is so much more fruitful then my yearly planning of the future, is that all my past is totally devoid of the semantics and schemes of control in my life; it already happened. All the complexity of execution is gone, and we’re left to look at the results for better or worse, we’re left with the truth about the choices we’ve made, who we are at that point in time, and we’re left to survey the landscape of life and know some really great things. Who am I being? Who am I really? How do the person I am, and the person I want to be line up? Am I content? Why not? Should I be?...you can ask none of these questions about your future, you can only take your past in the context of your present, to make choices about what you’ll do today, in the hopes that we may achieve the best alignment of the truth we know and the lives we live.

For me, each year it is simple truth that seems to provide the most foundational instruction for my daily life, and it is by embracing truth that I am better equipped to do the things, and be the man I desire to be. When I look back, I think I was a victim of myself for many years, I tried to control, plan, and engineer my life so that I would achieve “success”, but what does that even mean? Professional advancement? Increased Wealth? Better fitness? More friends? More fun? I’m not so convinced that any of that really matters, rather I’m convinced those things and the laundry list of other things we might chase in this life are circumstantial truths, or the context in which REAL truth plays out. In order for truth to really “work” in our lives, we must have the ability to apply it in all contexts, at all times to account for this quickly changing playing field we’ve all been thrust into.

My list is short, my mission statement is broad, the concepts are simple. And ultimately it boils down to love. Who am I? A man loved greatly, by great friends, a wonderful family, and the unfailing inexhaustible love of God who made me to be great by his definition not my own. What do I want to do with my life? love people boldly, fearlessly, and wildly. What’s great about that is that I have opportunities to be who I am, and do what I want to do every day. I can do this in all times in all places. Do I come up lacking sometimes? You bet. Will I keep on trying? You bet. What’s most amazing to me is that what I want to do is made possible mostly by how I define who I am, and who I am is affirmed in what I want to do…it seems to work.

We seldom get choices in life about which playing field we’ll be on, we only get choices about how we’ll play…so go get after it, and simply be the best “you” you know how to be. Anchor to things that matter, and it makes the process a lot easier.

Playing hard,

CJP

The Last Train Ride - Readiness

As I made my way to the Royal Oak station for the last time this morning, everything in the world seemed to be in steady flow, it was the type of morning I had come to understand as a rare luxury during my short time here in London. I walked through the now familiar turn styles, down the dirty stair case, and was met by an uncrowded train in perfect time. There is little that feels better than a perfectly timed commute. I stepped through the doors of the train and found a seat in the last car of the train, I started to reach for my headphones but decided I would enjoy this, my final ride, in its full glory.

In many ways, commuting in London yielded some of the greatest change in my perspective on daily life. I don’t think I learned tons of new lessons, but I did learn new bigger importance of truths in my life and what they can mean in the simple small contexts of daily life. I learned much about diversity, about the big vast humanity that God so dearly loves. I learned to be more patient and gracious, I learned how little my plans and agenda mean, I learned to not be so frustrated when obstacles present themselves in the way of my often selfish desires. I learned that my orchestrated life of convenience had actually turned out to shelter me from great change and some great adventures. Above all, I think in many ways I learned to live my life with an open-handed grip and learned to pay closer attention to the millions of miracles we can see each day if we so choose to live unattached and attentive lives.

I sat in my seat quietly, embracing the surreal sensation of finishing a chapter in my life. It was a good chapter, but it is over, and in two days time I return home to a very new old life. I think I am ready, I am ready to put to work the new ideas and perspectives I’ve gained, and lay to rest some old silly notions that I have come to learn were keeping me from knowing and living a fuller and truer life.

As we pulled up to Paddington Station, three passengers boarded the train and sat in the seats across from me. Two of them were mentally handicapped men, both appearing in their late 30’s. They both wore matching shoes, and by most other measures seemed to match attire for the brisk morning air. The man on the left wore an Arsenal hat, and the man on the right had his identification documents around his neck in a purple carrying case. They smiled and chattered to each other in an excited and animated tone as they took their seats.

With them was a young Asian woman who was clearly with the men to escort them to their destination. The two chaps seemed entirely unconcerned with her presence, but occasionally would look to her to capture a moment of her attention and affirmation. She would answer warmly with a patient gentle tone, and though she seemed tired her compassion seemed to have a confident and steady resolve.

The train slowly clattered along, as usual signal failures, congestion, changing conductors all presented their own constraints on my progress east to the city, but this morning I found myself un-frustrated and un-concerned with the crawling commute. The two gentlemen continued on in their excited banter, beyond the fact that they were going on holiday, I gathered little as to what they were saying. I don’t think I needed to hear their words, because I caught the importance of their presence before me, that being, the simple joys of this life that we can find if we so choose to simply look for them. What I had grown to love about the tube was the consistent reminder of the smallness of me in the grand scheme of it all. Man, this world is so full of life, the good and the bad, there’s plenty of it all, and while we can do our best to maneuver towards comfort and satisfaction the one thing we can’t avoid is each other. And so there I sat, my thoughts wandering the landscape of the wonderful memories of my wonderful adventure.

No amount of planning or processing will ever make me ready to make some of the changes I want to make in my life. No volume of prayer or conversation, no amount of reading or consultation will replace the necessity of faithful action. Of all my hopes and desires for the days ahead, I have in the past weeks become less concerned with what they may hold and more concerned with how I might ready my heart to deal with whatever my life brings in the coming days, weeks, and years. The truth is I don’t care about the specifics, none of that matters to me, the where, what, how, when, and how of my circumstances are infinitely eclipsed by why I am where I am, why I do what I do, and the ultimate purpose for my time here, to be a conduit for the work and love of Christ.

We pulled in to King’s Cross and St. Pancrass station, and the two men along with the young woman stepped off the train, and more commuters shuffled on in their place, filling in the gaps. The vibrant conversation which until now had been filled the rail car’s dead air, was replaced with expressionless stares gazing intently at blackberries and iphones. The new cast made me smirk, we people are a strange lot. The conductor came over the intercom apologizing for the delay, and silence befell once again. The train lurched on, and my commute was drawing to a close.

I arrived at my stop at Moorgate and stepped off for what may be the last time at my station in the city, at least for a while. It’s amazing how fast things change, from strange to familiar and back again; it can be good if we let it be. I guess I’ve found that in light of all the variation, its best to travel light, to hold fast to what matters as the rest can fall away so quickly.

I guess that in better understanding my own transience in this life, I’ve come to better learn the value of what today can mean, and in understanding that I can only hope to be ready for today, and tomorrow if I’m so blessed. I walked up the train station stairs and around the corner to my office, I reached into my back pocket for my ID badge and swiped it for the last time. Before I put the card back I gave a quick look down to notice a word of profound relevance for me, in all caps and bold, the word “GUEST”.

Moving Forward,

CP

The Great Happy-Sadness

Six months ago I left my home to move to a place where I had never been, and I didn’t know a soul. Gradually as the days and weeks have passed this place has become far less of a strange wilderness to me, and has become a place where my heart has become alive and free in new ways…even to me, its hard to explain. It's a strange sensation, it’s not any one thing, it’s all things, it's a life of abundance …and it is truly remarkable.

My first weekend in London was perhaps the strangest and most unsettling 72 hours of my experience here. As one might imagine, a lot was going on and there was much uncertainty about the days ahead. Sunday morning, November 31^st I walked through the doors of a church in South Kensington and felt at peace for the first time in London, my worries about being homeless, having no friends, no idea what my life would become all faded to nothing, the shadows disappeared. I returned later that evening for a second service, I had nothing better to do, and no place better to be. What’s miraculous to me is as I walked through the doors of that once strange building yesterday evening, I was greeted by friends, people who have come to know and love me, and whom I have come to love and know. As I sat on the floor of the sanctuary, somehow I was in a place no less mystery about my life than that first Sunday.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been in quite a strange place, as my life here in London suddenly found itself on unsteady ground until last week when I’ve received some resolution and clarity, that I will in fact be returning home in the coming weeks. As I’ve had plenty of time to ponder the notion of going back to the states, I’ve had this flood of mixed emotions about the whole thing; in total everything I feel is positive, but perhaps it's the direction that I’m heading that makes what I feel, feel so dismantled.

It’s so odd to be leaving a place I now consider home, to a return to a place that I consider home. It is strange now to leave friends and a life I love, to return to different friends and a different life I love. To have a life so full of goodness is quite overwhelming, to have nowhere to hide from people who care about me and people that I care about is kind of crazy, but how wonderful a blessing.

What’s funny is that when I came over to London there was this vast expanse of uncertainty that clouded my life, It wasn’t doubt or fear, it was by no means bad…it was just a wild and untamed future, full of possibility, full of the unknown. While things circumstantially have become more familiar on the ground here in the UK, I have somehow come to possess a new sense of wonder about my own life, and the possibilities of what I might do, and who I might become as a man. As I make steps towards returning home, I feel a new sense of wonder about an old place with which I have much history. And as he often does, God has revealed a new chapter in my life by concluding another…

While I am not certain as to what lays ahead, I am certain however it is the way forward. There is an ocean of thoughts and feelings swirling around, but that sea will be stilled with time, what’s great is that I’m full of good thoughts and good feelings, as I’m so overwhelmed to have so many amazing people in my life.

It will be bittersweet to head back home as I’ve grown so fond of the many great people who have become a part of my life here. I truly don’t believe that I will ever in my heart of hearts say goodbye to those I’ve met over the past 6 months, as they have shaped me in so many meaningful ways and I think I’ll carry the memories of this experience for years to come.

But for now it is onward to whatever lay in store, a great mystery unfolds…

CP