Ivory and Ebony

Stuffy and stodgy theology. Ivory towers filled with books, that when opened scatters dust to every nook and cranny of the mind. Not only does it cloud the mind but it also suffocates the heart. Write papers as if the heart isn't attached-be completely intellectual but don't engage any sort of practicality. Through my collegiate education I have attempted to balance the two. Here is an attempt to balance. 

Job’s view on the afterlife is filled with language that is morose and has thick undertones of dread.  The stark language of Job uses such words as deep shadows, the pit, no return, and death with a gloomy outlook. This leads the reader to believe that the afterlife is an unfortunate thing, but  God rebuts in His own fashion with one powerful statement to be found within the book of Job. Job and his three friends make a lot of claims about death and its finality but their knowledge is limited and they can only see one side of the coin.  

The evidence that has led to this conclusion can be found in a word study through the book of Job that includes these words: Sheol, Abaddon, death, grave, pit, no return, and deep shadow. Often man longs to fill in the gaps of knowledge with an understanding based upon our earthly wisdom. More often than not this wisdom is lacking and needs to be refined by the one who gives wisdom. The book of Job is the story of a man who walks through suffering that most are lucky enough to avoid. This suffering is to the very core of his being. The book walks through his journey as he speaks his theology and thoughts. His three friends step beside him and offer their biased theology to Job. This was a theology based upon a firm foundation that had been laid before them. A foundation that said wicked people received what they deserved and the righteous were made holy. If Job was encountering suffering he must have been wicked. A+B=C, that was the theology of the time, yet in Job’s mind this did not make sense. Here you see a man wrestling with God. One of the toughest thoughts to grapple with in the midst of suffering is death and what is to come after. After looking at all the words that are accompanied by death I have come to the conclusion that Job was trying to find a black cat in a dark room with tinder and flint though by no fault of his own.  “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…”

I truly applaud Job and his fight, but the most endearing section is Job 38.17 when God steps in and says, “Have death’s gates been revealed to you; can you see the gates of deep darkness?”

There are many points to which one could argue about what Job thought about the afterlife but when it is all said and done God’s word is final and concrete. God is also not asking us to give up the search, but rather to have a humble curiosity. Ask the questions, but never expect the answers to be a firm foundation with which to set a house upon.  

Some do not appreciate balance and in trying to jump over that hurdle I have found myself tripping over and over. Tripping is a good word because it insinuates stumbling but it also conveys the aspect of falling flat upon ones face.

Today I finish one of the classes in which I feel like I flounder over and over again in. I sight in on the hurdle, I run with all my might, I jump-and I feel my toe catching the top. I am mid-air, I cannot save myself, down I go. I have gotten back up after each hurdle, but it's the end of the semester-I have lost most motivation to fall on my face, again. Yet, here I am, one last time. One last test. 

Here we go.

+Ecclesiastes 12

Infused

When one thinks of Christmas what comes to mind? Cheerful music, trees, a jolly man who sits on a red velvety chair? 

What about suffering? What about pain? What about brokenness? What about the air of death that seems infused into every breath?

Ancient History seems to be just that. Ancient, old, and dead. As stories are revealed to us, they are just words-never a person, never a story, never alive.  I challenge you to change your point of view. This morning at DCC there was a challenge. 

Pastor Mike opened up with Matthew 1.1-21. Go on, open up your bible, see where he took us today. 

If you are wondering, yes-he did read every name you see there.  Names mean nothing to us these days. Genealogies have lost their power, blood lines are something of the past, but not to the Israelites. Each of those names has a narrative that is woven through out the Bible, and those reading the book of Matthew around the time it was written would have a beautiful understanding of Jesus' lineage. They would understand that the ancestors of Jesus had lives that were continually botched. Lives full of suffering. Lives full of being oppressed and of oppressing. They would have been living in the fruits of the sins of a nation and the darkness that ensues from it. Through out their narrative the Israelis cried out to God, asking for deliverance, for protection, for safety from the events transpiring around them though they were often down the path of destruction because of their own volition.  They shouted out their resignation, their contrition, their brokenness.  Sin and darkness has an overpowering aroma that seems to taint the living, to overpower the living.  

They lived amidst death, yet the prophets spoke of a coming King who would deliver the people from death. Imagine being in a desert without water, but being promised that a well is around the next sand dune. There would be a flame of longing ignited within the chest of those who are thirsty. They would pant and groan for the water to come with every fiber of their being.

The suffering that the world endures is one that pushes people to extremes. They long for that well of fresh water around the corner. Those who Matthew was writing to saw the words behind the words. They knew suffering and they saw the words that pointed to the truth that the King had come. That is what Christmas means to this world. It means that a new creation has been brought forth and given life in the form of an infant who would one day bring death into the grave with resounding finality. With His first cry, darkness shuddered because it felt the air in this world change. The fight had begun. We live in an already but not yet place in time-one where we are already brought out of the grave, but not yet in its completeness. We still see death. We still breath in death, but we also can breath in life and speak life and move in life. 

This Christmas, recognize that the wheel goes round and we will be back at this place a year from now, but also recognize God's sovereignty in placing a time for the world to come back to Him. This is a time of year to dig and to breath life and to recognize the breath of life God Himself has given.   

When we celebrate Christmas can we remember the oppression that we are free from?

+Daniel 9.20-24

Santiago's

This morning started as many do when Alison and I go adventuring. 

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, what do you want to do?"

Back and forth, back and forth-if you are picturing the vultures in The Jungle Book you have a pretty fair image.

We hippity-hop to Franklin (my car-I believe I may be too attached, but I will deal with that later). Today, my turn to drive. I jump on 6th and begin venturing East. As Franklin is cruising, I pick out a beginning end point. Santiago's! Brilliant idea, if I do say so myself, what goes better with an adventure than a tasty breakfast burrito. We arrive, and much to my dismay-the breakfast burritos are ALL GONE! Though discouraged, we find a way to alleviate our downtrodden spirits. Well, maybe I find a way to brighten my day and Alison just joined in for the fun. Out comes the camera.

Walk a mile in some one else's shoes. Life will look a lot different in a few miles. Even in a few steps.

The eyes are the window into the soul. Often holding the answer: "where is my joy to be found."

 Share your story so others may come and walk in your shoes. How else can we navigate the dark waters of this world?

At this point, Franklin beckons and we are off again. Further down 6th and towards Speer. The next location comes to mind. I have driven by this park at least 15 times and am always curious as to its purpose. It is a park dedicated to The Hungarian Uprising. 

 The whole creation waits breathless with anticipation for the revelation of God’s sons and daughters.

Romans 8.19

Memorial's-places where in our lives the experience only lasts for a breath. Yet, those waiting to be remembered, lived out their final breath.

 I think the lion may win this staring contest.

There's a storm a brewin'

And so concluded the adventure.

+Romans 8.18-39

Listen to Your Heart

Tick Tock Tick Tock

Round and round the clock goes in a perpetual rhythm that doesn't slow or alter. Time is a rather fickle beast.

This morning I woke up with 5 hours. 5 hours until my life took a turn towards the unknown.

Here is a list of quality questions I have been asked by those I hold most dear in the last 12 hours.

"How are you today?"

"Have you talked to the people you are suppose to?"

"Where do you believe that you would flourish?"
"What does your heart want?"
"Are you afraid?"

Answers:

-I am...

-Working on it

-I will flourish in either, it just depends on what I want to flourish in

-My heart wants to hide in a corner and cry

-I am not only afraid, I am terrified

Here is a list of questions my brain has been asking me since about day 1 of this adventure.

"Where is Pennsylvania?"
"How do you even spell Pennsylvania?"
"Can I do this?"
"Am I good enough?"
"What do I want?"
"Could I actually get into the program?"
"Can I endure more soccer?"
"Is that what I want my masters to be in?"
"Will I be forgotten?"
"Will I lose God or will I find more of Him?"

Do not worry, I figured out where Pennsylvania is and I only get the red squiggly under it  occasionally. I don't know if I can do this. I am quite uncertain if I am good enough. I want to share life with people that I really care about, in the present and in the future. I could really come to love those out in Pennsylvania (actually, I know I would) but I really love the people I have here. I love Denver. I love Colorado. I love not having soccer.  I know I won't be forgotten. I know God is guiding my steps. I know that the answer to this is yes or yes.

As 5 hours became 4, and 4 became 3 I was stuck. Sitting in Franklin Andi says, "why don't you draw something?" (Why don't you function in the way that you function best? Why don't you function as poetry? I am inserting my own understanding of her question) I am not sure why I didn't think about it sooner. I am thankful for Andi. I sat at the kitchen table, with a canvas and all the tools I needed, save one...

I love my dad. I am the spitting image of him. Hold up a mirror to him and you would see me. I am rather unsure of why I waited until this juncture to talk to him, but I do believe that it came to me here and now for a reason. What we discussed brought this image to mind. Two circles: well I think circles-though they are a bit more abstract. In one circle's center is a calm, is the certain. It is soccer and school surrounded by the complete unknown of Pennsylvania. The other circle doesn't have a center. It really isn't even a circle. This is the image I needed to begin understanding what my heart wanted to say.

So after the phone call to my Dad, insert about 2 hours and a painting later and I have my answer.
The beautiful thing about art is that it speaks the words that we don't yet understand.

The painting began to take form. What began as the uncertain center of 'no' flipped in an instant to the center of a Pennsylvania 'yes'. When it hit my eyes I knew. As backwards as this sounds-Pennsylvania is safe. Soccer is safe. School is safe. I am tired of playing it safe. I am ready to step outside the rules of this world that so many speak of. Maybe the rules of this world are not the rules with which the Kingdom will be found. Maybe I am a fool. I pray God can use a fool. Adventure is out there and I am ready to find it.

"As you look at the day before you, you see a twisted, complicated path, with branches going off in all directions. You wonder how you can possibly find your way through that maze. Then you remember the One who is with you always, holding you by your right hand. You recall My promise to guide you with My counsel, and you begin to relax. As you look again at the path ahead, you notice that a peaceful fog has settled over it, obscuring your view. You can see only a few steps in front of you, so you turn your attention more fully to Me and begin to enjoy My Presence. The fog is a protection for you, calling you back into the present moment. Although I inhabit all of space and time, you can communicate with Me only here and now. Someday the fog will no longer be necessary, for you will have learned to keep your focus on Me and on the path just ahead of you." Jesus Calling, November 16th.



+1 Corinthians 13.12+Proverbs 3.5-6+Jeremiah 29.11

B.B.T.

A train barreling forward with great speed, beware the logs thrown into the fire, pay heed.

Fire is all consuming, shadows seem to be looming.

Picture a Western movie. Now picture said movie without a steam engine. Doesn't happen. There will always be a scene with a Big Black Train.

I know I can see it. Time and again. I can hear the whistle blowing and the man shouting "ALL ABOARD".

Climb on up into the traveling cars and get ready for the ride of your life.

Now, I'm not an engineer. I don't even claim to understand basic science concepts, but steam engines seem to be 'fairly' sensical. 

You've got a car right behind the engine filled with logs. These logs are fed into a fire within the engine that somehow produces movement. This is produced by water and steam and fire, but again, science and I, not friends-but the fact remains that the fire moves and powers an entire train. It moves thousands of pounds of metal(numbers and math-abstract and unattainable so that might be unrealistic), but the truth remains that a small fire produces GREAT MOVEMENT. A small fire within the heart of the engine does work. In biblical terms, the rudder directs a ship, a bit controls a horse. Our soul seems to be a steam engine powered by a fire that we feed.

Great news about a train-that movement is kept on track by a set of rails. It cannot diverge.

Now-think about the human life. We feed a fire within our soul, and we don't have tracks. 

I picture a group of 12 year old boys and some how they got their hands on a pile of fire crackers. They attach them to a stick and plant it into the ground, light the wick and step back. Well, these fire crackers tip and point in every direction but up. The spark hits the chamber and off they go in every which direction. Mass chaos before your eyes.  

So when we light our fire of a soul, it's more like lighting a fire cracker on a stick-letting go-and praying it stays upright. Accompany that with the train idea and we have quite the possibility for movement. A train-like fire cracker movement. 

Feed your fire with gasoline-the carnage and damage is astounding.

Feed your fire with logs-we still seem to manage large amounts of damage.

Douse the fire-life isn't worth living.

The conundrum-life. I like the word conundrum, but hadn't known the definition till I looked it up: "a confusing and difficult problem or question."So again, I say the conundrum-LIFE.

+Romans 7.7-25

PT Cruisers

Two nights ago I walked out of my house angry. About to get into my car and drive-to where I don't know. Why, because I felt like yelling at the top of my lungs. God had a different idea for the night in mind.

As I slammed the front door closed a car drove up and it was Andi. I really wanted to ignore her, to ignore the white PT Cruiser that was a message from God, but I felt a knowledge that I shouldn't get into my car. She rolled down her window and held my hand as I lost control of my tears. They sprang forth with an epic determination to fall freely. We stood there, for a while. The night air, cold-the outstretched hand, warmth. I wanted to walk away but was so afraid to let go, so I didn't. I got into her car and we drove. False, she drove, I cried.

I get this image from my soul. I am in the midst of a blizzard in a forest. I wander into a clearing and see a cabin. I walk up to it and find a window. I have to stand on my tippy-toes, but I look inside and see a fire with a rocking chair and blanket. I can touch the window and feel the warmth but I cannot find the door. Please, have no fear, I have done lap after lap after lap. At this point in my life I feel like I have walked away from the cabin and completely lost sight of it. I am in a thick dark forest with snow and wind freezing me down to my bones. The cold numbness has seeped into my soul. I know what warmth is so I remember, but I do not KNOW it. Difference.

I laid this and my soul bare before Andi because I knew I was safe. We talked and talked and talked. After a while we ended up back in front of our house, and the thought that came to mind was The Lion King. I do love that movie, but the particular scene that stuck out into my mind was when Simba has grown and is yelling into the empty night sky that he feels alone, so alone.

You said...(watch this)

 I shouted this at Andi. False, I shouted this at God.
"You said you'd always be there for me, but you're not. It's because of me, it's all my fault. It's all my fault."
Broken, dejected, and weeping before God. That is where it ended in my mind.

We sat there for a while, and God moved through Andi because that is not where it ends in the movie and she shouted back.

"WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?" (I know this movie, as a child it was my Moulin Rouge, but the next part was silent in my own narrative)
"Well, he see's his father."
"Right, but what happens? How does he see him?"
"He see's him in his reflection in the water."

That moved me this morning to search this clip out. To dig a bit deeper. So if you haven't watched the first clip, watch it. Watch how it skips over the ending...watch how Mufasa doesn't speak back. That was the story I was allowing to speak in my life.

BUT THAT'S NOT HOW IT ENDS...

It's not over(watch this)

Do you see it? I see it, and I am making my way back to the cabin. I am going to find that damn door. Now that I think about it, it probably has to be opened from the inside, but I don't want to leave again. I want to see my Father.

I am thankful for PT Cruisers.

+Hebrews 13.5

The Epidemic of Misfit Toys

There is an epidemic rising which the devil has been oh so quietly plotting. 

It is the epidemic of misfit toys. The toys that don’t fit in and a culture that has only compounded the problem. It is the epidemic of one night stands, drunken stupors, and filling a hole in your heart. It has been around since the day of the fruit, but that’s the danger of this epidemic. It is a silent killer, always morphing and changing yet remaining the same. Like water filling a jar or vase-it takes on a certain shape, and may look different but the water is still water, the hole is still the hole, sin is still sin, separation from God is still darkness.

   

People need to hear, people need to see. This epidemic is not clearly defined-yet. 

This semester has been a personal form of hell. Sometimes I think as a storyteller I become over-dramatic, but that does not negate the fact that this semester, though the last one here at CCU, has been one of the hardest. It has been about self-awareness, it has been about the past moving into the future, it has been about my candle like faith being snuffed out by stuffy stodgy Theology classes. Speaking of God is an extremely dangerous and difficult endeavor to embark on. To do it well? Near impossible. 

Each week seemed to cascade into the next with all of the problems and pains with no resolution. It was a rather dark tunnel spiraling towards what felt like nothing. Many (and I mean many) tears were shed. Then about two weeks ago, something happened. To arrive at this point we must start where any story starts. The beginning.

"I don't know what to do. Things come to life when we talk about them."

"No, things come to light when we talk about them."

A struggle all semester. Exploring where life stops and light begins. I felt like giving words to my deepest darkest thoughts gave them life, and to be honest they did. They stuck to me like a shadow. It felt like this scary little monster with sharp fangs had been unleashed upon my soul. What we have to come to realize is that the monster is there whether we accept it or not. 

That is where I am at today. That is where I found myself two weeks ago. Dealing with the ugly tough life that my monster is, but also realizing that I am dealing with it. I am allowing myself to be fully me, and yet still working towards something more. It is such a beautifully broken paradox. The sharp fangs will always be part of my story, whether it is just a scar or a monster I battle until His glory returns. I am leaning towards the latter, unfortunately-but hey, that's life.

Do you know what the monster is called when left in darkness? Shame.

Do you know what shame is? Believing-not that you make mistakes, but rather that you are a mistake.

Do you know what shame needs to grow? Darkness, guilt, silence, isolation.

No shame. That is where I am choosing to life, or at least trying. 

You may be wondering how this comes full circle. To be honest I am not sure it does, but I do believe we would all be surprised at what monster others are dealing with.  The Island of Misfit Toys, a place of isolation and loneliness. This is why I say we have a epidemic rising. An epidemic of misfit toys, an epidemic of monsters being kept in darkness, an epidemic of scar riddled bodies that we are trying to hide under band-aids. The reason this epidemic is unknown and unidentified? Because we won't talk about it. Start somewhere, somewhere safe. I believe you would be surprised at how many times you'll start to hear "me too" as your monster is brought to life. Start taking hold of your story. Bring it before others and God. God show up, please. I am begging you.

+1 John 1.7

Done deal

I'm not done.

Tonight as I was scrubbing my knees, lower legs, arms, and any other part that had mud clinging to it-it hit me. No more war stories. No more mud. No more bruises the size of an orange. No more cleat marks up the shin. No more practices in the pouring rain.

As much as we hate it. As much as our bodies protest every movement. As much as we despise waking up for early morning conditioning. As much angst as khaki's create.

We love it.

That's what makes us who we are.
There in lies our identity. There in lies my identity, and that identity is about to be taken away. No doubt by God-for a reason. Everything has a place and a time, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.
Who are you?
"Hi, my name is Caitlyn."
No, who are you?
"Oh, who am I? Well-I'm a soccer player of course."
You realize that is about to be done, right?
"Well, yea, but I'm trying to ignore it."
So, who are you?
"Please stop asking me that. I don't know who I am without soccer. I don't know who I am without the dirty knees and bruised body."
Well, you had better figure that shit out.

Right? I really do need to. Who am I?
I will no longer be soccer.
I will be art.

UPDATE: I feel my heart rising. I feel my heart singing. I feel my heart crying. Soccer has been the constant-since the baby age of 3. That is 19 years. 19 years culminating in one final game. Tomorrow when I wake, I will be a soccer player no more, and I cannot wait. I cannot wait for God to define who I am by something new. Do not get me wrong, I am thankful for soccer. Thankful for the memories. Thankful for the lessons taught and learned. Thankful for the tears. Thankful for the laughter. Especially thankful for the friendships. Thankful for the humbling experience to lose-a lot. Thankful for the handful of wins.

Soccer has taken me to places I never knew existed, places of extreme pain but also places of extreme joy.

I am done.

+Ecclesiastes 3.1-8

It's the end of the world as we know it

REM certainly had a good thing going for them.

Have you ever wondered what you would do if the world went dark? If an apocalypse broke out? If North America turned into Panem? Have you wondered if you would make it?

I have, and I have compiled a list of very basic principles I think would be essential to survive:

1) Do not trust a stranger you’ve just met on the road. No matter how charming/attractive/struggling/decrepit this person is. I have made this my number one because I am often that person that gets scammed into slightly questionable situations.
One time I gave an old lady a ride home from the grocery store- not smart. Another time when I was driving, I pulled over and struck up a conversation with a gentleman on the side of the road- not smart. I often consider picking up hitchhikers- not smart. I would be that person, actually, I am that person.

2) Not trusting strangers is key, but make sure to trust and stick with people you do trust. This new world will be of little value if you are alone. I know I would try and find my family (in the near future I will be discussing a game plan with them), but I would keep my friends with me.
2.5) Completely opposite of a scary movie, no one would go and check on scary noises for any reason. Period. Alone or with a group- that’s just dumb.

3) No fires at night. You’re just asking for people to find you. Case in point, Frodo and his gang practically sending a signal flare to the evil spirit Ringwraith dudes on the watch tower. Yeah, I don’t want to get stabbed in the chest. Ever.

4) Get out of the city as fast as we could. All a city would be good for is mass chaos. I don’t like chaos. Possibly raid an ice cream store on the way out, though (assuming one is left standing). Everyone will be going for the cakey items I figure, and ice cream just plain don't last. Plus, the thought of any Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie or Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz Buzz going to waste literally gives me pain in my stomach. Chocolate+Caffeine= Perfect Post Apocalyptic Runaway Recipe.

5) Acquire a knife. Not a dinky boy scout wannabe one, but more like a Crocodile Dundee, disproportionately bigger than my whole body machete thing. I may actually invest in one of those sometime soon as well.

6) Hope for the best.

+ 1 Thess. 4: 16-17

The Girl on Fire

Sometimes I enjoy asking my friends questions.  I thought I would experiment on recording the actual conversation.

What is the soul?

"Why are you so caught up on this soul stuff?"
"My teeth are going to fall out of my head."
             (After chomping on the next piece of 'Cry Baby' gum.  If you have never had it beware; dangerous stuff)
"This is the problem; I am a one sentence kind of person.  I can't go on and on...like you"
            (I rolled my eyes a bit, knowing what she meant though the words did not necessarily reflect it)
"The soul is what God sees.  The person He created you to be.  That thing that people often miss.  They don't recognize or appreciate it. People are caught up in physical appearances and actions rather than the being itself."

Why is the soul separate from appearance or action?

"I don't know, that is a hard question."
"I guess, hmm..."
"Well, I think a lot of time our actions are influenced by our sinful nature and our lust for things of the world.  Most people see that heart, the sinful side, instead of the person who they are in Christ."

Why does this hurt?

"Because a lot of time we regret those actions.  Once it is out there. Once it is committed, people don't forget."

What do you think about?

"Different thoughts. Sometimes, they are mean ones."
"Rachael really looked like a Dinosaur today."
"Teaching-How to improve. How to reach the kids who are totally shut off or the ones who are huge amounts of trouble.  How to show love to those without fathers or who come from broken homes. How to be creative and fun. How to make kids love learning."
            (Now that's a teacher if I have ever seen one)

Do you like to ride the fence?

"What fence."
            (To which I replied, "all of them.")
"Depends on the day"

What fence did you think I meant?

"All of them."
             (Smart Ass)
"The one between average and extraordinary."
"Most days I don't really think about it."

Why don't you think about it?

"I don't like to think about it.  How much do you want me to answer?"

Not really looking for any certain length.

"Oh, so, quality not quantity."
"When it is something I am passionate about-that is when I try to be extraordinary.  When it's stuff I don't really care about I just try to sneak by-I don't put the full work into it."

What are you passionate about?

"Ohhh....APPLES!"
            (After discovering apples previously left in a backpack)
"What do you think I am passionate about?"
             (Long dialogue about whether or not I can say what she is passionate about)

What do you think my look says

"You know I am honest. I am just saying what you were thinking."
"Friend, let's be nice. We shouldn't say those things."


There it is-an experiment.  One that I enjoyed.  Hope you do too.

Tree

A tree.
Squirrel's really like trees.  They scamper and live in them.
People are like trees.  Ok, stop it with the judgmental face.  It seems like common knowledge, but really think about it.

A tree needs deep roots.
No matter where the water is.  No matter the type of soil.  If a tree is growing it will have roots. They may be shallow but they are there.  A full and thriving tree?  Ready supply of water and a deep rich nutrient soil.

A tree has an ever growing trunk.
Every year a tree grows a ring.  Had it been a year of drought? Tiny ring.  Was it a bountiful year of rain? Thick ring.  The trunk tells everything about the tree, yet most people don't get to see it.  That tree has to be cut open and laid bare.

A tree loses its leaves.
Annually, people flock to mountain towns to gaze upon the changing and shedding of leaves.  This happens, year after year.  Ever changing the outer layer, yet nothing about this will change the trunk. Everyone sees these leaves.

A tree gives fruit.
Apple to apple, or an orange to an orange.  There are apple trees, there are orange trees, and there are occasionally a few crazy banana trees.  Trees are not both apple and orange.  They are of completely different identity markers.  Both trees, both different.

A person needs to be rooted-in something.
A person has a trunk-rather a soul.
A person loses their leaves-that person others see.
A person gives fruit-apples, oranges, or bananas.

Now, I know sometimes I look at my friend and say, "I want an orange." Problem?  They are an apple tree. What am I going to do? I've got a few options:

          1. Chop it down and burn it?
          2. Climb and search?
          3. Continue to demand?
          4. Go search somewhere else?
          5. Sit in the shade?

Each of these are choices to be made. Actions to be carried out, but I have found my heart is at peace when I decide to just sit in the shade.

+Psalm 1.3+