broken.

I got my .40 cal cocked and I don't know how to use it
I don't even know if know how not to lose it.
All I know is you're in my sights and you won't move will you?
I know everyone dies but I don't wanna kill you
I've left shattered dreams from here on down to the border
and leaving one more ain't too tall of an order
if I cry when I kill you it ain't because I true loved you
but rather because I put my own dreams above you
And when you fall to the ground then my dream's lost its prop
then all my hopes engines will come to dead stop
so I'll plead with you to stay there I'd with all my might will you
not so that you won't die but I don't wanna kill you.

Possibly my new favorite poem...

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

I work for these people and I don't really know what to say...

So weird...

Am I a Man?

Yes... technically... yes (flight of the conchords reference). But anyway...

This morning I was staring at myself in the mirror trying to decide whether or not I should shave. I decided that the stubble on my face made me feel a little more manly and I decided that I can use all the reminders I can get. It made me think though. A couple weeks ago I wrote what I would call, "The Story of my Man-ness" in my journal. It was pretty much the story of my life and the key stories, moments, personality traits and failures that have shaped who I am as a man. I wrote at the end that I don't need anyone to tell me I'm a man. And this morning I wonder how true that is. As I thought about my facial hair I thought about how often I don't really think of myself as a man. Or worse I think of myself as a man but don't embrace the meaning or responsibilities of it. It's kinda like being given the title and license of a doctor but refusing to treat your patients on days when you feel burnt out. You'd get pissed if someone said you weren't a doctor or shouldn't be practicing, but really your actions don't show that you're anybody different from someone who isn't a doctor. A friend told me this afternoon, you don't need anyone to tell you your a man, but you need lots of people to tell you what you're supposed to do because of it. Then he asked me why that's the case. It's because the primary responsibilities of manhood involve self-sacrifice (providing and protecting specifically) and not self-preservation. None of me normally wants to give anything up. Most of the time I'm thinking about how I can hold onto more and save myself from pain, instead of give away more of myself until I have nothing left. The other aspects of manhood, the pursuer and leadership nature of it, I often fear my own inadequacies.

The good news is that Jesus provides in pretty solid ways through the cross to address both fears of discomfort and of inadequacy. To my discomfort Jesus offers future hope and a resurrection. To my inadequacy he offers me the opportunity to nail my sins to a cross and the robe off his back to clothe my shame. He offers a Spirit that brings power to live above my circumstances instead of drowning in the sea of them. That same Spirit gives me peace in the midst of the deep questions caused by the pain of life. And all of this gives me great hope for the future. I don't know all of what it holds but I believe it will be good. Let not the lamp of hope die, my friends. For the morning comes soon...