Sunshine

Wesley got up bright and early. Not so the sky, however, for it was still dark outside. He was lucky to have gotten an early morning job delivering fruit and salad to customers. It was a start-up company that made sales only online. His friend told Wesley about it, and Wesley was now about 3 months into the job. He was able to finish the deliveries in about two hours, starting at 4 AM. 

It was not the typical life young adults dream about, but Wesley needed all the money he could make. That was why he started at 4 AM, moving onto construction work during the day. After 6 PM, he would make it as fast as he could to the local pizza parlor. People in the neighborhood tipped well, though it was pretty dangerous driving so late and tired. 

The day started like any other day for Wesley. It was supposed to be a cloudy day, however, with a high chance of rain. As soon as the alarm started blaring, Wesley shut it off in an orderly fashion. With a big yawn, he got up out of the bed, into the bathroom. After a quick teeth brushing and a splash of water to his face, Wesley was already out. He was always the first one to the company. The trucks were already making their drops of fresh fruit and vegetables. Wesley would be the one to ride the newest of the bicycles. He wished he could make the deliveries by at least a scooter, but the company being a small start-up with a market slogan of environmental friendliness, a bicycle was the best they provided. 

A couple of new customers had signed up a few days ago. Wesley had planned new routes and they seemed to work out pretty well. As the sun rose minutes later with the seasons, it was darker than usual, especially with the clouds. Perhaps if Wesley had been a minute late, he could have seen the metal chains closing off the parking lot, where Wesley had made the turns to reach the last delivery point. 

With a loud clunk, Wesley flew out from the bicycle. FHe flew quite nicely, landing on all fours. His hands were bruised slightly, with a little scrapes. He was lucky not have broken any bones.  It was the bicycle that needed more attention, as the front wheel complete came off. He looked around for the bolt holding the wheels in place, but it was simply too dark and too small to find. 

He gathered as much of the bicycle as he could and ran to make the final stop. He was a a bit worried that the customer might find the products jumbled around from the crash, but he did not have time to worry about that at the moment.

The deliver company manager told him that he will think about what to do with the bill for repairing the bicycle. Wesley wished he could talk the manager out of having to pay for the bills, but he needed to move on to his next workplace. 

Wesley munched on a stale apple for breakfast. He was hoping the the holes in the apple were simply his imagination. Perhaps the apple was a bit rotten. Perhaps a worm could have taken a bite as well. He knew what he was buying though, nothing really surprised him. Older fruit were to be cheaper. 

The bus ride was never short, and though it could have been boring times, it was one of the few times when he could take a nap. This was possible because the bus driver would gently honk the horns when it was time for Wesley to get off. Wesley greeted the bus driver as usual while getting on the bus, and the driver responded with a simple nod. Eager to sit down and rest his head, he headed further into the bus. Today, however, the seats were all occupied, unreasonable for this time of day. 

Wesley was 5 minutes late, and as soon as the manager saw Wesley, he began to yell at Wesley. It was obvious the manager did not like Wesley. No one really knew why. Nonetheless, Wesley kept apologizing and rushed to his work site, hard hat and all. 

The extra minutes of sleep was quite necessary for Wesley to get going on his construction work. He would push barrows of cement. He would carry multiple iron bars. Sometimes, he simply carried himself. The work was now in its closing phase, deeming more work upstairs in the building. As he was climbing up the scaffold, a brief lightheadedness resulted in him dozing off. Within seconds, Wesley quickly fell off, falling straight downstairs, into a pile of construction waste and sand. 

Today just may have been a bad day. This time, Wesley was thankful simply to be alive. Yet, no arms got twisted. No legs broken. He was allowed to rest a few minutes, orders given by the manager himself. All the co-workers did not mind doing a bit extra work for Wesley, for he was well liked among the crowd. 

Wesley had no way to pack a lunch. He also did not want to burden others for his lack of money onto his co-workers. So, Wesley would slowly disappear during lunch time, filling his stomach with lots of water. 

Wesley managed to work the afternoon hours. Before leaving the site, the manager lined up the works of site 2, and gave each employee an envelope of pay. It was a little less than expected, but it was more than necessary to carry on another day for Wesley. 

He quickly left the site and hurried off to the pizza parlor. For a brief moment, the clouds cleared. Sun was shining down ever so brightly, especially upon Wesley. 

A gentle smile formed upon his face. 

The skies darkened quickly thereafter, and raindrops started to fall. The forecast was pretty damn accurate today. As Wesley jogged down, he was hoping to make it there on time. He was hoping the roads would not be too slippery. He hoped. 

Love by by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Love by by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And in Life’s noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart’s Self-solace and soliloquy.
You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within ;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Thro’ all my Being, thro’ my pulse’s beat ;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.
And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.

Do Not Love the World

"Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in them. For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever." 1 John 2:15-17

"For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him." Colossians 1:16

Lust of the flesh. Lust of the eyes. Pride of life.

The writer says that these are not from God. Yet, in Colossians, the writer states that all things were created in God. It is a thin line to be crossing. All things are indeed created in God, by God, through God. Yet, the purpose of it all is to bring praise to Him. Amazing cuisines, beautiful people, being confident are all gifts from God. However, if all that is sought after in life are such the following, it becomes a sin. It is simply too easy to be flowing in and out of worldly desires to holy thankfulness. 

It is simply weird to throw away what God has given you, while it is also weird to start craving for what you do not have. Balance seems the most difficult in life. 

"Do not be overrighteous, neither be overwise—why destroy yourself?
17 Do not be overwicked, and do not be a fool—why die before your time?
18 It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. 

Whoever fears God will avoid all extremes." Ecclesiastes 7:16-18

In a world where everything passes away, the only solid ground seems to be God according to the Bible. 

Speaking in Tongues

"All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them." Acts 2:4

My first encounter with glossolalia, or, speaking in tongues, was back in grade school. It was during a Bible camp I had attended, in which the teachers gathered together during the last service to pray for the students. As I was still very young, the dark room full of gibberish was very frightening. It was as if the teachers were all in a trance, suddenly having become strangers. 

I had asked my parents what the teachers were saying after camp. They told me it was a form of praying. I soon got used to hearing such prayers. At times, I even wanted it for myself, as it seemed to me a marker for "good" spirituality.

After college, an opportunity came for me to receive the gift. A missionary had come to visit my parents. Before he left, the missionary came to my room and for reasons I do not quite remember, decided to ask God the gift of tongues for me. He told me to close my eyes and repeat after him. 

"La, la, la, la, la..." 

That was all that he had told me to say. I simply repeated after him. Soon, he complimented me on having good faith, and told me that I had now received the gift. I had not felt any different. I did not feel a burning in my soul. I did not fall into a trance. I felt rather stupid. 

Years went on, and I seldom chanted the magic words. I had hoped that something might change along the way, but I grew rather lukewarm to it. 

Recently, however, I had attended a retreat. I only made it for the last night's worship service, but I was bit expectant that night. I was truly hoping for a change in my life, but during prayer time, I had the hardest time concentrating. I closed my eyes and decided to chant the words yet again. 

"La, la, la, la, la..." 

All of a sudden, I felt dizzy, almost blinded by a light shining in front of me. I grew rather hot and my tongue seemed to be saying something, but I knew not what it was. I did not want to open my eyes. 

Prayer time seemed to end rather quickly, and the experience did not last long. However, I had realized something. Even prayer was a gift from God. It was something only possible through the Holy Spirit. Speaking in tongues was a confession to such beliefs. It was letting my soul worship God in ways that my physical body could not. 

I still am rather unsure of what the short experience really was, but I was glad to have realized that God indeed was in complete control. He was moving everything in perfect harmony, even my prayers. 

I'll Climb

I'll climb high until you see me.

I'll climb higher until you need me.

Spiritual Dementia

Awake, asleep. I live a dream. I dream a life
I open my eyes to see the world hazy.
I close them to see it ever clearly.
Everyday, confusion binds me,
for I know not what I knew seconds ago.
Grace has set me free,
but I turn around to see me shackled in.
I burn with anger and frustration,
only to see the light of God a minute later.
I'm suffering from spiritual dementia.
So dearest God, hold me until the very end.

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