At the Furnace of Thy Gates

Verse 1:
At the furnace of thy gates
I’ll be lifted up and see your glory
And the fire of my trial will seem
So small to me

My rejoicing will be with Angels
At the fire of thy glory
And we will say of the Lord of Heaven
He is awesome, He is holy

We will know that we are there
When we hear the sound of many waters
And the shouting of the people
Like the roaring of the thunder.

Chorus:
We’ll be high and lifted up
When we see Him in His glory
And when that trumpet sounds
We’ll be found ready.

Verse 2:
We will know that He is coming soon
When we see the prophecies fulfilling
And when we see the sons of glory come
Casting down their golden awning

The earth in pain it groans and shakes
Waiting for His glory
And we in Spirit groan and pray
Longing for His coming

When that trumpet blast will sound
A glorious shout will follow
The Desire of the Nations comes
And every other voice rings hollow

(11-14-98)

Won by One

Won by one by one by one by one by one by one
Won by one by one by one by one by one by one…

Lord in power you saw us here when weakness made us dry
You left Your life, came down to heal—Your tears restored our eyes
Your cleansing power restrained our fears—Your words revealed our lives
Your life and has washed us clean—We know you are the Christ

(And we are) Won by one…

And this is the testimony that we have given to the world
That the Son of Man was lifted up to draw us to our Lord
And though they slay us, we will proclaim the glory of our King
Our lives are His, we lay them down, that every man might see

(That we are) Won by one…

And every time we lift Your name, another hears your voice
A song is shouted through the night, a power that changes lives
That every man who hears the song would say you are the Christ
And this is the hope and power we have—eternal life is in a choice!

(For we are) Won by one…

(11-08-98)

I Looked to the Light

I looked to the light,
And a river of blood
Was flowing from the altar.
The fountain it flowed
From the side of the lamb,
And the kingdoms of men it faltered.
They could not believe
That the heart of the lamb
Was for the healing of the nations

And I stood and I wept
For the kingdom of God.
It was waiting just behind Him.
The river of life
Was the only bar,
And the tree of life stood beyond it.
But no one would come,
Their eyes were so fixed
On the lamb, though none received him.

The Lamb turned to me
His eyes burning deep
And he said to me, “Will you come?
And coming will you bring them?”

Tidbits

Interesting tidbits from my wonderful, fascinating life, all of which will probably interfere with the aura just inspired by the above poem:

Folks, life is getting scary. I found out Monday that I had a bibliography assignment due, um… last week. It was on the syllabus, plain and simple, but it wasn’t in the actual schedule of when things were due. You had a couple of pages of reading assignments, and on the back was the instructions about the paper that was due. I didn’t read those instructions because I wasn’t prepared to write my paper yet. However, in this particular class, my paper is broken down for me into several assignments, one of which was due last week. I think he talked about it in class, but I’m really not an audio learner, so I didn’t really pay much attention. I did my readings, got A’s on my quizzes and went on with my merry life. Until last week, when people turned in these pages and pages of lists of things they’d found on Chaucer. I thought, maybe, this is some kind of voluntary thing. Gee, those kids are so diligent, doing research on something they haven’t even read yet. Then Monday, they all go their assignments back and I think I saw grades on them, or at least comments. And so I had to ask, “Ok what the heck is this?” I got some pretty crazy looks. So now my homework’s late. Then, I realized Tuesday that I had completely missed a community service project that was worth 5% of my grade in my ethics class. I just forgot all about it. I spent all day Saturday cleaning my own room instead of cleaning the houses of poor, elderly people. My professor told me that she wanted to challenge the irrevocable nature (that means you can’t make it up) of the assignment, so I should think of some community service project that was really impressive and get back with her. I’m thinking of a childrens’ outreach program that a lady at MorningStar does, but I haven’t contacted her yet. Ve shall see.

Needless to say, I’m in a whirlwind right now. I already went ahead and dropped the extra class I was auditing, and now I’m just hoping to become a great deal more efficient. Because the only thing else I can drop is Xanga and I’m really loathe to do that. Monday night I hid in my room and did my homework assignment and refused to answer the phone or email or IM or anything. I felt pretty childish doing it, but I just didn’t want to talk to anybody. My understanding is that there were people all over campus trying to find me. My roommate came into the room and laughed at me and said (in his quiet Japanese way), “You’re hiding!” And I said, “Yep!” I’m so glad somebody understood.

Also: I guess other things than just dreams come up. I was sick last night. Here I was, already tired from freaking out about school and I ate something bad in the cafeteria. I thought I was just tired to the point of being dizzy and nauseous, so I went to bed, but when I woke up at 5:30 this morning “tired to the point of being dizzy and nauseous” I decided that maybe it was something else. This is proof of an English major: What was I doing in my sleep? I was rehashing the story of Frankenstein and trying to prove that the monster never really existed in the story, but was simply a figment of Dr. Frankenstien’s dementia. I was sure of this because I knew that every time the monster showed up and talked to Frankenstein, he was overcome with a rush of dizziness to the point of nausea. I was never able to prove my point entirely, though, because I eventually woke up.

What I really wanted was Pepto Bismol, but since that wasn’t available, I decided to get up and try for a soda from the dorm vending machine. I hopped down from my bunk (a feat in itself when you want to throw up) found the coin jar and shivered my way to the laundry room. I dished out the low low price of $1.00 and put in my first nickel. Fortunately, I realized immediately that something was wrong when the nickel when “chink” instead of the usual “chinkle-dink shiver shiver plish.” I looked in and there was a pile of money stuffed right inside the coin slot. Man, I tried everything. I got my keys out and tried to shove those coins around. I undid a paperclip. I broke the hook off of a hanger on the door of a washing machine in my attempt to un wind it so I could use it to shove the coins around. Nothing. I had no dollar bills, so I was not going to get a nice cool sprite. Eventually, I decided I was better enough just from being vertical for a while and went back to bed. For the most part, I think I’m better now. I was sort of pleased to know that my roommate was also feeling sick this morning and had eaten the same thing I did at dinner last night. Misery loves company. I am, however, going to tell the cafeteria staff in vain hopes that they won’t give us leftovers this time.

Shutting up now (to quote a little leprechaun)
KB

The Light!

The Light! He draws the song
Etched deep within my soul
To carve in me a statue
The scars clave deep my wooden soul

The pain of beauty comes whistling down me
Removing flesh, the husk of life, like bark,
Dividing spirit from the soul.
Wood shavings pile around the work of art

A master knows the difference
In the tree sees Wooden-Head
The love, the life, the light to bring
A living child from marionette!

A Few Interesting Things to report…

First off, everybody look up at my one beautiful graphic. Isn’t that nice? Do you wish you could draw? I wish I could draw. That lovely little banner was done for me by Jeremy Hall according to my sister’s design. Kudos to both of you. Actually, this is yet another blatant attempt at self-promotion. I took out an ad for my website at Machall.com. It cost five bucks and I figured, hey! Plus somebody else drew pictures for me and I like it when other people draw pictures for me. I wanted it to run this week, but that’s apparently not an option, because it has to be reviewed by somebody and they have to tell me if they approve of my ad or not, and I haven’t heard back from them yet. But that’s okay, because now at least I have a cool graphic at the top of my website.

Speaking of my website, I have another thing coming. My goal is to build me a real website instead of this blogging thing. Nothing wrong with blogging, per se, you understand, I just want to have a little more control over things like how many different articles are on the front page, and how they’re arranged and things like that. Here is my first attempt. Take care to ooh and ahh over the Archive. Actually, it’s really bad webdesign. It should be done with a template and a database, but I don’t know the first thing about website databases. I barely know the first thing about databases at all. So every little link is its own little web page that happens to look like all the others. Anyone who wants to volunteer to help me is more than welcome. I need help, man. Really bad, man…

Eventually, once I get everything fully operational, I’m going to add a bulletin board system and launch into a full fledged webpage. (I kinda feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff when I say that.)

Nothing more to say, really. Homework s me. I homework.
If anybody wants to put my banner up on their site somewhere, feel free. Tell me about it, and I’ll post a note telling people everybody else.

Shutting up now.
KB

Why do you mourn

Why do you mourn, oh starlett one?
Why do you gaze towards the horizon?
Why do you weep, oh weary one,
With your eyes toward the sea?

Why do you sigh
Like a mother never see her son again?
Why do you moan, stoop shouldered
With your eyes toward the sea?

Did you give your life and heart
To someone who would fail you?
Or did you simply learn the name
Of the One who found me?

(10-06-98)

Interesting thing about this poem: There are two lines at the bottom of it, in my note book, which are crossed out. They read, “I see it now/ I was destitute, I was dying.” I guess I just couldn’t think of anywhere to go with that idea in this particular poem. Now, it’s been a long time since I looked in this particular notebook, so I didn’t remember those extra lines at all. But I thought, well gee, that line looks familiar. So I did a little search and found this one. Apparently those two lines sat in my craw like a bit of sand in an oyster until finally… So I thought that was interesting. And I’m kicking myself now, because I have no idea when I wrote the other poem. I should have put the dates up when I was posting them. It never occurred to me that I would deliberately delete all my stuff on my computer. Continue reading “Why do you mourn”

Watching and Waiting

I would like to rest here for a while
If I could only keep my heart from rising up
But I can see the mountaintops
And eagles on the breeze
And I can hardly keep myself
From yearning…
Oh me! Oh my rising heart! But down!

Sometimes it is difficult
To constantly have to remind myself
That now is not the time
I want to stretch my wounded wings
And fly.

This poem perhaps requires some explanation. I’m trying to think of the best way to go about it, and it seems to me that the best way is the long way around.

I wrote this poem while visiting one of my favorite churches. It appears that right now, once again, I am looking for a new church. It’s difficult and time consuming to explain exactly why I’m leaving one church and looking for another, but: I’m looking for a new church, and I have fond memories of this church. I went to ministry school here. Ministry school was probably the most unpleasant experience of my whole life. I can’t really explain why things were unpleasant, except that “things fall apart/ the center cannot hold.” Sometimes everything just works out badly. Suffice it to say that three or so years ago I realized that I was working in the children’s church every service, not because I like children (which I do), but because I didn’t want to go to the main service. It actually hurt to go. It was painful to watch people doing the very things that I knew I was good at, but that I also knew that if I put my hand to them, they would fall apart. Everything that I did that might be recognized was a flop. Everything that I did in private was an amazing success. It was as if the hand of God was against me. Imagine trying out for the school basketball team and being a complete klutz. You can’t run; you travel; you can’t shoot, and when they throw the ball at you, you instinctively duck. Then when you’ve completely failed your chance for the team, you stand in the court after everyone has left, and make three-point shot after three-point shot. Three kids from another school show up and challenge you to a scrimmage, you against all three. You play them and you totally walk. They can’t even hold a candle to you. So you show up for tryouts the next day and you forget how to tie your shoes. You get on the court and you fumble; you trip; you travel. You don’t make a single shot. You run off the court in complete embarrassment before the tryouts are even over. And the next day you come back, when nobody’s there. You pile up the balls beside you, and just stand there in the evening heat, sweating, making three-point shot after three-point shot. That’s about what it felt like.

So now I’m visiting this church again, thinking, “gee, wouldn’t it be nice if I could end up here.” It really is an amazing church. There’s a certain kind of raw edged freedom there. Their stated goal (and they’re slowly achieving it) is to get every member to find their niche in active ministry. Creativity seems to just come flooding into you during the services. It was while I was going to school there that I got into my mind a solid plan for what I want to do with my life. I have this idea, see. I want to own a Christian bookstore. But not some cute little boutique. I want a religious version of something like Border’s, only better. I am firmly convinced that, if the Christian God is real, then Christians should be the most creative people on earth. In my mind, the only things that could be getting in the way are religious structures that don’t encourage creativity, and economics. I can’t really do much about the religious structures, but I can work with economics. So I want to create a business that searches out Christian art, literature, and music and gives financial backing to it. (This is the part where I go off the deep end and get really excited about it, and foam at the mouth and stuff.) But I’ve got everything on this long-term plan. I’m going to college for an English degree. Then I’m going to work in the business world for a while, both to pay off debts and to get some hands-on experience in planning and running a relatively large business. Somewhere in there, I plan to get married and have kids. (The I’m dating right now plans to become a doctor—this could take a while.) So sometime in the next 30 years or so, I plan to achieve this dream.

I have a point for that last little bit about my goals for my life. There’s a I knew at this ministry school I went to. She herself doesn’t draw, but she started an art in worship workshop as part of a ministry project her second year there. Similar my second year project was a poetry workshop. It was a flop. I had one person attend from another church, who never came back. Her project didn’t flop. It was a smashing success. This year she’s expanded to poetry and dance. I was there when she told the workshop people her goals. She wants to have these huge conferences for Christian artists and poets and musicians and stuff. They are planning on incorporating aspects of her little workshop into everything that the church does. I could feel the bile rising up in the back of my throat. She’s doing now what I hope to start (at the earliest) maybe in ten years.

Every time I go to that church, it’s so wonderful. I really love it there. I feel so much at home. But it always comes back to mind that other people are there doing the very things that I plan to do, only their doing it bigger, faster, better and they’re doing it now. It’s probably good for my pride, and maybe I’ll eventually get on that basketball team, but it’s still so hard to consider whether I want to go back there, because I’ll constantly have to remind myself that now is not the time.

Scientists and Poets

There is so little guise between
The poets, prophets and scientific men,
That instruments have rarely been
Available to measure there
When mortal souls met man to man
With gods.

Those great creatures, higher-ups,
Never seem to have any truck
With men who want to analyse
And take their measurements,
And quiz them on their sentiment
Of things that sometimes seem
Irrelevant.

The spiritualists and poets can’t be blamed;
They can’t control these sorts of things.
A man can only testify of what he knows:
That only moments or hours ago
There were astounding creatures
Flying everywhere.

“Yes, I know they’re not here now.
No, I can’t explain it. It’s just amazing how
Some things can always find a way to leave.
My cousin also came by today,
Or maybe it was just a plague
Upon my mind. I have been breathing
Lightly lately.”

Those pernicious gods are always
Making fools of mortal men.
And how they should be pitied, those
Who are gifted with the second sense
Of ear as well as eye:

Always hearing echoes in another realm,
The sounds of mocking laughter
Flowing steadily up and down.
Unless their hearing was acute,
There could be some misdirection.

Who is mocking whom?