A little gem in a mini park (Red 9)

On my walk to Bible study last night, and feeling a need to meander, I poked about in a mini park near Prib's, looking for something red.

There across the lawn, peeking out through a sea of green, was one lone berry. I am amazed at the gems found when one looks for them.

A picture of human-divine cooperation (Red 8)

The basic stuff, from molecules to genetic  instructions to beauty, are his formed from his triune mind, spoken at the dawn of time. The current form, though, bears humanity's imprint, the result of centuries of genetic management.

This combined effort is seen by some as messing about in things not ours, but by others as living out humanity's position of image bearer.

I think it's likely a bit of both.

Like sun-worn velvet (Red 7)

Born from a compact and bright bud, the rose now bears the marks of time and sun. Like sun-worn velvet, the rich red has mellowed and its hue grown in complexity. 

Life's arc is now running headlong to that regenerative phase, when the legacy is clarified and fruit ripens to bear the seed to future generations.

This forced and momentary respite (Red 6)

Once in a while, on the trip to or from work, the dailiness of the bus ride is punctuated by a train. Whether the often drawn out wait of the freight train or the swift white blur of the MetroLink, the punctuation gives a bit of pause.

Halted by red lights and barrier arm, my coach waits and I, given this momentary respite, read a bit more, think a bit longer, listen a touch deeper.

Unsanctioned public communication (Red 5)

Once upon a time it was an expression of law. Then it was shiny and clean. But now years and persons mark it's surface with cluttered messages. Scratches, readable by the writers' tribes, incise the once pristine surface. Wear of the leaners' trousers have grayed the shine.

Still the original intent remains clear through the unsanctioned messages.

Somewhere between comfort and boredom (Red 4)

Most weekdays, the basics are the same: same bus, same riders, same walks, same bus stops, same red curb.

It's a good thing I'm not an adrenaline junkie, for if I were, the sheer repetition would drive me bats. But the thankfully the iteration rests somewhere between comfort and boredom, sure of what will most likely happen next, but with a slight twinge of longing for something different.

Make sure it's real (Red 3)

Two pots of inexpensive silk tulips sit near my guitar set up each Sunday. I am certain someone thinks they are decorative, but I just can't get past the lie.

Some Sunday mornings, I come with an attitude that has too much in common with those tulips: my playing looks like worship, but it's really just guitar playing. My very real connection with Jesus has not been nurtured and my soul has not been confronted with Jesus' glory.

And what is at issue? I am. I have a responsibility to nurture my desire for Jesus. I have a responsibility to be confronted. I have a responsibility to pay attention.

Something else is at issue as well: you, my Christian siblings are responsible. You are responsible to nurture my desire for Jesus. You are responsible to confront me. You are responsible to help me pay attention.

Shame on me.
Shame on you.
Shame on us.

John 5:1-8

Random bits of concentration (Red 2)

It's funny, but I can almost never do homework at home. Maybe it's the late arrival most nights or the prevalence of familiar distractions, I am not sure.

My offices of choice are the diner, the patio, and the bus. This morning, it's the diner, complete with ketchup and tobasco. Later, it's the patio, with sunshine and birds.

Roses on the way (Red 1)

They are there along the daily path, catching my eye with their subtle variety and basic simplicity. Still, the color is rich, like tiny bits of velvet.

Poor lonely guitar pick

Who would do such a thing? Leave a perfectly good nylon pick in the street? Of course, maybe someone lost it and is frantic, wondering where it is.

If it's yours, you dropped it at Norwalk Station, near the Norwalk #5 bus bay. It's still there. I left it all alone. Bad me.

When storms hit...

Sometimes life gives us a left hook. Unexpected. Sudden.

How we respond in that moment of shock says much about our character. Do we flip out and lose touch with our alleged core? Or do we look up and remember the One who is our very life?

This is not to say that looking up changes the situation. The situation remains. But looking to the only God our Savior changes us.

Truth is, troubles come: some mere glitches and others utter tragedies. Each day brings its own trouble. There's no getting away from that while we dwell under the sun.

The question is when the stuff hits the fan, how will you respond?

Studying on the patio in summer rain

While studying in the rolling office (public transportation) has its benefits, studying on the patio, under a giant umbrella, while a summer rain sprinkles down has relaxation benefits the bus cannot match. The tiny tap of drops on canvas, the cawing of Jays, the mug of fresh coffee, and the aroma of freshly rinsed dust combine into something unmatched.

Now if I could only concentrate on my reading.