A small, small sample of peace

Here's a story that my mom found and showed to me. I found it so interesting after my to Israel, that I will link it to this blog. A Jewish surfer donated several surf boards to the Palestinians. I know it is very small, but this simple act narrated in the article is what builds peace, slowly but surely. I imagine those people who ride the waves with the surf boards will not be so bitter towards Jews as before.

I've been going to a new church recently. It is called St. James Urban Presbytarian and it is located in Downtown Denver. My parents met there years ago, but now they stopped attending soon after I was born.


A lot of different kinds of people attend St. James. Many street people, some with long beards, uncombed hair, and an endearing bad teeth smile.


I have started attending here on purpose. I go to school in thes suburbs. I play soccer with the wealthy. So how do I keep in touch with the poor in every sense of the word? I thought to myself, "Maybe I should go to church with them."


Below the room where everyone meets on Sundays is a coffee shop called Network. Many drug addicts, homeless, mentally ill, etc... drop in for some coffee. In better words, many normal people drop in for some coffee. With going to church with these people, I have started to identify with the reality of their plight. However, it is not out of pity. No, for I realize how equally poor and mentally ill I am: I just know how to hide it expertly.

It is compassion, and the recognition that these street people are as complex human beings as you and me, that there is a mind and a heart behind that sign, and more life than we sheltered people (for that's what we are if we have a home) ever give the homeless man credit for.


After wondering and debating about how to show compassion in a Christly way, I have finally found a great way. It is outrageous to most of our groomed minds I know, but I think it is truly the method to be Christ in the US. Here is a link to the site at the Wittenburg Door.


"For I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you invited me into your home."
Matthew 25:35

Evidence of a Problem

This morning it was released to the press that the United States has lost track of an exorbitant amount of weapons while in Iraq. Here is the link to the site: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/6932710.stm.

The world needs to get its act together. Yes, as every nation and every human realizes, nuclear weapons are an enormous threat to existence. Nevertheless, the weapons that are killing people by the hundreds of thousands today are not bombs, but the regular gun (90% of civilian casualties are caused by small arms and guns). A simple AK-47 can be wielded by a child and bought for a chicken in parts of Africa (See bottom of page for links to where I get these facts). How do "bad" people get these weapons. Because the United States and the other world powers refuse to acknowledge the enormous violence inflicted by guns made by their own factories. Guns that we make (the United States is the biggest importer and exporter of small arms, I will find the source of this fact) might be used in Sudan, Congo, Uganda, and even by our "enemies in Iraq" as our government calls them. The guns we make are used against us. Ironic justice, for it seems in every crisis the United States faces today, we are the ultimate source of the problem.

On the Side of a Mountain

Several days ago, I went backpacking with six other people that, excluding my brother, were complete strangers. We went hiking through a mountain forest in the middle of nowhere west of Colorado Springs. It was remarkable spending five whole days with people I never knew before. You learn to get along with everybody very quickly, for a shower is an unavailable convenience and the only lavatory is behind that tree a hundred yards from the group. The accompanying counsellors taught us how to use a compass, backpack, set up shelter, and the basics of survival in the wild with nothing but what you carry on your back.


With no showers, no deodorant, no nice beds or meals, and no toilet paper (the group forget to pack the tp, requiring us to acquire the skill of finding leaves and grass having strategically soft qualities) I felt more human than I have in a long time. I smelled like a human again. It is so cliche, but I was more sensitive to nature. Indeed, experiencing the unrestricted influence of the elements let me experience, too briefly I might add, the mysterious side of God. Think about talking about the unseen parts of God while under the light of the stars twinkling, a sign of their listening. Think about talking about talking about your dreams with another Follower while overlooking a city at night, allowing the wind to whip your back embracing. What profound experiences!

Yet, it was by myself that I was most aware of God and the holiness of the ground. While in Israel, I questioned the idea of a real "holy land" in God's eyes. Surely, all the land, all of his creation is sacred. Yet, when I was placed on the side of a mountain, literally on a cliff, I was sensing an overwhelming movement whispering in my senses. I felt biblical. To describe the event I would write,

"In the evening, after a day's traveling, Adam was led up onto the side of a cliff deep in the mountains. God spoke to him, saying..."

Moses, Elijah, David, and Jesus all found mountains to be a place of refuge and transformation. A reaffimation of their life's mission was found on the side of a mountain. So are mountains holy? I want to say yes. I was comforted while I walked in the land, I was reaffirmed and overwhelmed by the beauty of my surroundings. I spent almost four hours by myself with God and the mountain, reading, praying, meditating. The time was too short. Words grind as I try to articulate what happened. God was not done talking, I would say. That much I know. How encouraging!

So go to the side of a mountain, and just listen. Feel peace again. Be human again.

Right Things

I was at Celestial Seasonings, a tea factory in Boulder, Colorado, when I discovered a wonderful surprise. One of the trademarks of Celestial Seasonings besides their sensational tea and fantastic box designs, is the remarkable use of famous and profound quotes in the factory. I thoroughly enjoy a good proverb, and I found a multitude at that little factory on Sleepytime Drive. The cream of the crop was a quote by the auspicious Samuel Clemens (aka. Mark Twain),

"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest."

I value integrity as much as any character trait out there. I strive to be a man of integrity. I seek it ruthlessly in other people so that I may learn from them, imitate. What is integrity? The best definition I have ever heard came from a former teacher whom I deeply respect and hope to reference in my character when I get older. He said integrity was the definition of integrating every aspect of one's life into one solid human being. No stray personalities. No uncontrolled fears or lusts. One human being who is the same no matter what environment or audience surrounds them.

Integrity defines what Twain states here. The right thing, however that abstract principle chooses to be incarnate, is usually the most unpopular and unexpected choice of many. People, especially in our self-seeking culture, are often confused by what the right thing really is. Sometimes it is even ignored. Everybody burns cds, many times illegally. Does that make it right, though it is a common practice? Confusing, I know.

Heck, I am confused too. How does one "get" integrity? What is the right thing to do? Perhaps the key to this whole integrity puzzle is living life serving other people. Living for other people's benefit seems like the right thing, no matter the circumstance. Doing this may surprise, exasperate, and confuse people, and it may cause awkwardness and uncomfortable situations, but is it not worth it to achieve righteousness and integrity?

Summer Reading

No matter where I am or what season it is, the book I read determines to some degree the way I view the world around me. Perhaps this is the way it is with all people. When a person is reading a book about birds, they would naturally pay more attention to the birds in the vicinity. They will spend brain cells in the tens of thousands pondering birds, flight, and the like. They will notice birds in grammar, advertising, literature, history, and every aspect of life. The topic that person is reading upon effects their entire worldview. This is all assuming the bird book is a good read.

I have read nothing directly concerning birds this summer. However, I have just finished two books that have profoundly influenced my worldview, shaping the way I watch tv, talk to people, even my consciousness. One is a biography, the other is a classic of world literature.

Let the Trumpet Sound: The Life of Martin Luther King Jr. by Stephen B. Oates is an examination of the civil rights leader, non-violent activist, prophet, preacher, theologian, orator, organizer, and human being that was instrumental to redefining freedom, equality, and peace in the American context, but also on a global scale. The book narrates King's life from birth to martyrdom, describing the gargantuan efforts he undertook to allow an opportunity for a free life to exist between both whites and blacks together. I walked through the man's life astounded by his commitment to non-violence, his humble obedience to God's work through his giftings. King had a dream, a different reality he strove for. In the midst of incredible emotion, physical, mental, and spiritual torture by segregationists, McCarthy followers, the FBI (especially the corrupt director, J. Edgar Hoover) and fellow blacks, King spoke into the heart of people to create change. Though the book did not try to hide his mistakes, I am even more astounded by King's work than ever. I highly, highly recommend this biography.

At the same time, I read Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I marvel at Russian novels. I am moved by Russian writing. It is allowed to be insane in a Russian novel. Insane in love or guilt or nobility. Especially Dostoevsky's works. This was my third work from him (I have read The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov) and I am still reeling from the psychological and philosophical themes of the story. The main question asked is "Are there some men who are so brilliant, moral laws established before them do not apply, as they are actually the lawmakers?" Another story I ardently recommend.

Read these books.

Pursuit of People

Myspace.com is a home for those people seeking, finding, and establishing identity. I find immense intrigue in viewing the way people present themselves on the Internet. How does a person describe him/herself through an array of words and images, videos and music? Is this how each individual sees themselves or is this a mirage: a transparent hologram only as thick as my computer screen. Is this personality in front of me real?


People decry myspace, facebook, and blog sites as havens for superficial identity. Or maybe more properly articulated, recreational identity, a place where you can have fun with creating yourself, hopefully for the pleasure of other people.

As much as I have found myself wondering why I created a blog or a myspace as I give myself guilt-trips for selling out to the man, I have found one truth that has made it all worth it.

As I visit my friend's internet identities, I am struck by the surveys, random questionnaires that spring up in the summer when students are sitting at home, bored, lonely, on the computer. These surveys are made up of questions from I don't know wear that ask everything from "What is your favorite color?" to "Have you ever been kissed?" Yes, some of the surveys seem very personal, almost uncomfortably so. I would never ask some of the questions to a persons face that the same person would willingly answer on the internet. Why?

Surveys are not necessarily wrong, as some may wonder to be my opinion judging by the tone of the last paragraph. No, though I find them slightly presumptuous (why do I care when the last time you had ice cream was?), they are highly fascinating and deeply insightful, while guarded and limited at the same time. I always see deeper, more secret stories lurking beneath one-word answers, dying and fearing to be revealed at the same time.

Just look into the eyes. Stare at them, gaze, find the want, the need for help, for a hand. I love eyes. They tell so much about a person. There is weather in the eyes . Pupils cloud over as dreary skies, become dark as the night, light up, shine as the sun, cry as the rain, close as the dusk. Look into they eyes of another human. There is the real story. Sure, you will find no details, but you can find a heck of a lot more in a person's eyes than in a survey. People are desperately reaching out for an ear to listen. This is the truth that has dawned on me. Humans want to be pursued. They want to be understood, trusted, liked, loved, embraced, kissed, comforted, encouraged, rescued from hurt, and pursued all along the way

Perhaps that is why I write this. I want to be pursued. I especially want to be loved. I want people to say, "Gosh, Adam, you are a great writer" or "I took a lot out of what you said". Selfish, I know.

So I desire attention. Everyone I know, know matter how shy, is desiring this consideration. We are dying for it. Acceptance, grace for wrong stuff in our life.

But I should give more than recieve, right? How? How do I give more of this pursuance out? I don't want my writing to be selfishly motivated at all. I want to reach out to other humans. People are slipping away. I want to grab their hand and hold on.

How do I do this through myspace or email? Can words, as well crafted they can appear sometimes, really do any of this? I certainly hope so.

My hope lies in a question, actually two. My first, would Jesus have a myspace or a blog if he lived in today's culture? What would it look like?

What do you think? I'll give my answer in a few days.