Good News

Last night after church I was sitting with two of the men from the Open Door Mission. It was really great to talk with them. We were talking about the love of God, how that is the message of the Bible. Then one of them started talking about Jonah. It was really amazing to witness them preaching the Gospel to each other. I really think that we should share the Good News with each other more. Yes, we know it, but I think it would be good to be reminded of it too; let it come to the surface to breathe.

Just a thought.

Nice View

I like this guy: 10 years ago Alec Holden placed a bet with his bookie that he would make it to 100. They gave him 250:1 odds (how rude!), but he prevailed a picked up a check for 50,000 pounds (he's a brit). My favorite quote from him on how he has live so long: "I keep breathing. If you stop breathing, you're in real trouble."


You can read the full article here.

Death and Taxes

No need to reiterate it, you all know.

Taxes Suck :(

It Has Been a Good Easter

I woke, drove to my parents house and ate home baked kolaches. We then went to TBC to celebrate Easter. The service started with a skit showing the joy of God as it is proclaimed in the Gospel. There were three players, a man as the voice of God, and two women who, at the start were frustrated with life. Of course, by the end (after finding the joy of God), they were ecstatic with praise and thanksgiving. While I will not deny that God gives this kind of joy, I have never really seen it with my own eyes. I find that for me, joy is much less ecstatic, and tends to come in glimpses. While this may seem less, to me it is much more. They are moments, random at best, when I truly see and feel the grace of God. They are not moments of overwhelming emotion, but are the times when God allows me to see, for only a moment, his Gospel in the flesh, it begins and ends with God.(Surprised by Joy by CS Lewis is a good read on this subject)

It has been a good Easter.

While my cynical tendencies still abound when I contemplate the current state of the church, I am learning that, even though I have problems with some aspects of some churches, that they do truly bring others closer to God. I still struggle with my cynicism, but that is something I just have to deal with.

It has been a good Easter.

After church, we met at my parents house for a family gathering. It was wonderful to see aunts, uncles, and cousins whom I had not seen in a while. Susanne and Brad were in from California, and though we did not have a chance to really catch up, it was great to see them. After a wonderful meal, the women played Hand and Foot in the kitchen, while the guys watch the Masters and played poker.

It has been a good Easter.

I packed up the leftovers from the dinner (a ridiculous amount, it was a sickening reminder of the abundance with which we have access), and headed to church. Aaron preached a great sermon about the resurrection. While I know it is a, if not the, tenet of our faith, I realize how little a reality it is to me. I cannot seem to grasp it, not out of awe, but I seem to have a problem of completing the movement from head to heart. Don't get me wrong, I don't minimize the resurrection, but feel as if I have not been able to digest it act in it's graspable fullness. God help me.

It has been a good Easter.

After church a group of people gathered at my house (as is usual) and we watched several episodes of Arrested Development. It was great. After (almost) everyone left, I picked up Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne. It is an amazing book.

For the last little while, I have struggled with the tension of my understanding of the Gospel and placing that belief into action. My problem is that I love generally, but love is never general; the Gospel is never general: it operates in the realm of specifics; you, me, that person. My frustration is that I have this grand vision of what it is to live the Gospel. I was reading. Shane talks of when he was working with Mother Teresa in Calcutta, and how he was struck by her view of action. "We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it." I am going to make this a motto. I will try to be okay with doing small things for God, instead of dreaming of the grand. I will take comfort in the fact that with the smallest act of love, I reflect the one Lover.

It has been a good Easter.

Soft Landing, Warm Dinner

Yesterday we made the drive from Corpus Christi back to Tomball; my dad in the passengers seat with his arm propped up on three pillows.

Thanks to all who prayed and to our God who heard our cries. We set down in a lush field of green to the open arms of friends and family. While no major bruises, there remain lingering thoughts of what may have been, and three rather nasty incisions in my dad's left wrist and forearm. The wounds will have to close up on their own, which should take about three weeks. That is, if we can convince him to go to the wound care clinic, and let if be dressed and cleaned by professionals. Driving home he set up his first appointment, but upon learning the price of the service, was determined to do it on his own. With a little persuasion we were able to convince him to go every other day, while changing the gauze himself (well, with moms help) during the intermediary day.

For me, as soon as we pulled up to my parents house, I threw my stuff in my truck along with two bags of range cubes, fed said cubes to the cows, and then trucked it to the store to purchase the ingredients for dinner with the people in my book study (aka. the drinking club).

This was what I needed. While I was not alone in Corpus, I was disconnected from a large part of my community. I have never been one to get homesick, but I missed engaging with friends.

What a reintroduction to my community: the art of dinner! I love to cook so I made four cheese tortellini and sauteed spinach. The meal was delicious, as was the conversation. Then after dinner we retired to the patio to go through the book.

We are going through Eugene Peterson's "Leap Over a Wall" and we ended up talking about change. How we now view change as a disregard for the past and an all-out embrace of the new. Peterson, and we agreed, thinks that we need to recapture an earlier definition of change. Instead of erasing our wrinkles, we should embrace them. Change is good, but change is built upon the foundation of our pasts. It is not mere change, but growth (and because Matt pointed out that I tend to use the word a lot, I will say organic growth). We can and should use the dirt and crap of our pasts to fuel a new growth in Christ (not to say we should be adding dirt and crap, but let Christ redeem that which is already there). If we simply "move on" without looking back or stopping to contemplate, we will be like a tumbleweed; always moving with the wind, and hollow on the inside.

All this to say that it is nice to be back.

josh

In Case of Snake Bite, Pull Cord

There is nothing more scary than receiving two voicemail messages, one from a cousin saying "Josh, call me" in a serious voice, and one from my brother saying "Josh, call me; something happened to dad." I immediatley called Justin to learn that my dad had been bit in the hand by a rattlesnake at our ranch in Freer.

Freefall...

Go home...

Drive to Chorpus Christi...

Pull Cord.

I never realized how big of a support network my father and family has. My mother found out about the incident while having dinner at her pastors house. I had been at a crawfish boil with Anna, who is a co-worker of Ellie's, whose parents were also having dinner at their pastors house. As soon as I got off the phone with my brother I told Anna what had happened and that we needed to go. Ellie and Jeremiah were across the table, so I informed them as well. She called her dad, he was sitting across the table from my mom and told her (of course, her cell phone was at the house, where it belongs).

We all converged at my parents house, then loaded up in the car, with my uncle behind the wheel. The cell phones had already been working behind the scenes, but the first hour on the road we all scrolled through our phonebooks calling everyone we knew. Everyone we knew called everyone they knew. I would not be the least surprised to find out that we had well over a thousand people praying for him and us.

Community is a strange, beautiful thing. I am now starting to see with new eyes why it is so critical for living out a healthy Christianity. We need each other. Sure, we can do a lot on our own, but when we do, it takes away from us, makes us less. With community we can deal with situations in a way that builds, that adds to our lives, making us stronger, not wearing us down.

We still don't know what pasture we will land in; thankfully, with the prayers that have been prayed for us and the grace of a wonderous God, we are hovering over the greener one. One thing that I know, though, is that even if we find ourselves in the other one, we will have a soft landing; not without scrapes and bruises, but soft.

Thank you all for your prayers.

Josh

Good, Not so Good and Bad

I have been thinking of sin lately, mainly because I am steeped in it, but, hey, thats me. Specifically, I have been thinking of the areas in which I am most tempted, and which many are similarly are tempted.

I have always loved the concept of God expressing his being to us through the good, the true, and the beautiful. I delight in art which makes me reflect on the beauty of creation; poetry with fills we with awe at the thought of Gods depth. And, unfortunately, this if usually where my temptations begin.

I believe that the most powerful and potentially destructive sins begin in the true, good, and beautiful. Sin begins as a slight perversion of these. Then, the more removed they become from God and remain as separate concepts the more they begin to fester with corruption.

One example of this can be seen in art. To preface: this is a gross generalization about art, so don't be too pissed at me. I have always appreciated the visual arts, I am very visual by nature and so they have always been able to communicate rather strongly to me. At the beginning, I loved art because it spoke of God's creation, and the inherent beauty therein. But it seems the trend has moved away from expression of the universal, to the expression of the individual. Within this trend, art has become more "dark" (something which I am not entirely opposed to: I hate kitsch). But it has become dark in a way that is not informing, but merely destructive.

On a more personal note, I have always been a lover of photography. And through this love, I came to an appreciation of the female form, for it has long been a popular subject of photography. The body in general is an amazing thing. It's form; such graceful lines and intricate connections. It is a true thing of beauty. However, this healthy appreciation led to pornography. While female form is something that should be appreciated, it can only be truly appreciated in the correct context. For me pornography gets its appeal from its depiction of this beauty, but it becomes destructive because it has perverted the beautiful into a consumable, something that is used for our own ends instead of initiating worship of God.

Spirit & Soul

The other night Aaron spoke on the nature of worship. During the course of sermon he read a passage (? address) from the message that said something along the lines of worship is our spirit/soul interacting with God in honesty. This sparked memories of past thoughts for me. I have often wondered what exactly our spirit is. This honesty of soul may be a good starting point for understanding this concept.

Something that has always struck me in the old testament is the use of names. Names were not just symbolic placeholders for individual identification, but spoke to who the person was, it was more than a name, as we understand the word. I wonder if this could inform the biblical beginnings of our new testament concept of the personal/individual spirit.

For a long time, I always viewed spirit, my spirit, as something "other" than myself. Now I wonder if there may be more to it. I wonder if my spirit is really myself at my core. If it is the culminations of my longings, my thoughts, and my habits. Day to day, I am separated from this spirit by my deviations of my core self, yet it informs everything I do. Given this view of spirit, it will change and develop over time as I change through my experiences and as my world view forms.

For me, this idea leads to another thought, the idea of Christ's redemption as played out in my own life. As I grow into relationship with God, this, if real, will begin to inform my behaviors and over time, change who I am at my core. On the other hand, if I delve into my own devices, my core will crumble.

Just some random thoughts.

Midlake and St. Vincent @ Walters on Washington

Last night I went to the Midlake concert at Walters on Washington. My brother introduced me to them a couple of weeks ago and we found out they would be in town.

The show was opened by St. Vincent. The band is made up of only one person, and unassuming woman with huge glasses and a voice that leaves you wondering how it came from her. She rocked out on the guitar playing a bluesy rock, with an occasional kick of the drum (yes, she would literally kick it). While she lacked the usual stage antics, the performance was great. I bought her three track LP which is good, however, I don't feel it competes with her live show.

After another opener (not really worth mentioning), Midlake took the stage. During setup they placed a paper-mache panther head in front of the keyboard and set a projector to display video behind them during the performance. Before they even started playing I knew I would like their performance, and I was not disappointed. The lead singer seemed almost pensive during the show, the seriousness of an artist delivering his wares. I appreciated the fact that they would switch instruments, they seem to really know music and use this knowledge to create a very mature style. The video clips in the background created an asthetic element to the concert which was almost meditative.

I would definitely suggest a listen to The Trial of Van Occupanther.

Back Again

Well, being that my sister has started her blog up again, and it has been almost a year since my last post, I figure I might as well try to start it up again, though no guarantees.

Just a brief catch-up on me. I have lived in the Montrose area of Houston for the last year and a half, but have recently bought a house in Tomball. The reason for the move back to Tomball is that I have been going to church at Sondays. One of my best friends, Matt Davis, plays the music and finally got me to check it out after about a year of bugging me. I have been going ever since. It is a group of about 50-60 people and we meet at a coffee shop Sunday nights. One of the things that attracts me to this church the most is that it is diverse and oriented towards social justice. A lot to most of the people who come either are or have been addicted to drugs or alcohol. There is a group from the Open Door Mission who come every week. Everyone welcomes one another, they talk about what is actually going on in their lives, it is a real community. I love it.

Anyway, I will be posting somewhat regularly (hopefully) and will continue to fill you in.

jp

David Gray w. Aqualung

Last night I finally got to take a few friends up on a late birthday present. The giving was not late, but the present was, and worth the wait. They had bought some David Gray concert tickets for his concert on Nov 2, which happens to be my birthday. Unfortunately, the concert was cancelled last minute because of some throat problems.

Fast forward to yesterday. It had been a busy day, and for some reason, it just seemed terribly random to be going to a concert. I was rather tired, but once we stepped inside verizon wireless theater and heard aqualung, I was ready. I was really excited to see aqualung, have listened to him for a while and have wanted to check him out in concert (originally, he was not on the bill). We walked into the middle of "Strange and Beautiful", one of my favorite songs. Unfortunately it was well over by the time we found our seats ("Yes sir, these are right down there in the middle.", we were on the opposite aisle and had the adventurous task of weaving through a jungle of seated torsos [and there is always the fight club dilemma, do you pass with the crotch or the ass?).


aqualung

The second song they played I had never heard, but at the end they deconstructed into a sort of radiohead-like beautiful sound garden. We showed up late, so only caught four or five songs, but it was a great show.

After the set change, the lights dimmed and the crowd rumbled, the band flew out, with the drummer going nuts trying to hype the crowd even more. David then came out and sat at the piano. He started playing, and when he started to sing, I was impressed with the quality of his voice, it is even better live than on the cd's. Then his cellist started in, the timbre of the strings mixed with his vocals was prodigious.

I have always admired the percussive precision displayed in his records, and have just assumed it was due to the use of a drum machine. To my bewilderment, his drummer is just that good. He did not miss a beat the entire concert, his hands were a steady blur, with a stick twirl into a dramatic pose at the end of each song.

The middle/end of the concert became a little slow. It may be because of the two beers, but it seemed that his choice of several mellow tunes in a row put me into a state of sweet sleep. I finally stirred, and tapped my foot to the beat to try to keep myself attentive. He brought the tempo of the songs back up and I was fine.

He started his encore with babylon, and followed with three more tunes to end the concert.

One of my favorite aspects of the concert was the lighting during David Gray. The had a large screen behind the band, and had spotlights to silhouette the individual members as they played. It was a virtual dreamscape, perfectly blending visual beauty to the sound of piano, cello, and drums. My favorite show was when a giant fuzzy edged david gray was projected in the center, with the crisp shadow of the cellist looming low in the corner, the outline of her body flowing into that of her instrument.

By the end of the concert, I was ready for bed, but that had to do with physical exhaustion, the concert was great.

jp

Just Opened

Vineyard: Lindemans
Type: Cabernet Sauvignon (Bin 45)
Country: Australia
Region:South Eastern (?,that's all I got)
Year: 2005
Price: $6.45 (yep, I'm cheap)
My Rating: 78

I must preface this by saying that I love wine, but have never written about it before, hence I have no idea why I am starting now, it just struck me as a good idea. So, it will be interesting, it will be fun, and you may even take something away (read: hangover).

Overall, not a bad wine by any stretch, but not a great one either. I started off by judging the feel of the bottle. It has a nice weight, but the balance was off, it just seemed to list to the left. And come on Henry, this is a bottle of wine, not a bottle of grape juice... get creative with the label! You are selling it for less than $7, Donald Trump will never get within 5 feet of this wine, I am your target market; young, fun, and cheap.

Uncorked...

Now to the fun part, opening the bottle and draining the contents (never in one sitting, of course). Mr. Lindeman has found the worlds thickest foil. I had to cut twice (and with these guns, that's saying something). Then to the cork, or lack thereof; another sell-out to the man-made crap. I will admit that is came out effortlessly (once again, may be the guns), but it seemed too easy...

Another note on my testing methods; how can you taste the wine if you only have a few drops in your glass, I do the full pour right away (its more fun). Being a cab, the color was; well, red. After the requisite connoisseur swirling; the deep inhale, the cough, and a less deep inhale. There is slightly overwhelming smell of alcohol, but it is wine. Flowers emerge (as a guy, I don't know what kind), bright flowers. From the smell, it is obvious that the flavors will be tight. They are, not quite as opened and flowing as you would hope, but it is a 2005 and has not had much time to mellow. It has a fruity flavor, distinctly cherry.

For an everyday wine, it is good, and at under $7 it is a bargain. Don't expect too much, but it is on par with the $10-12 bottles.

Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

jp

New Holga Pics

Last Sunday I holed up at my parents again and scanned some more Holga pics. Here is a sneak peak, the rest can be viewed at my Flicker page:

These are from last years July 4th party, graciously hosted by the Pfieffers.

Ahh, fun in the sand.

Where's the bathroom?

The men observing and reminicsing.

I kind of messed up the frame overlap, but I still like it.

Matt, Brenden, and I on our last minute roadtrip to Lake Charles for some poker fun:

My foiled attempt at flashing Matt the bird.

Matt in his "I don't give a damn" pose.

Brended waiting for our table at Cracker Barrel. Mmm... hashbrown casserole.

Hope you enjoy,

jp

Gaps in History : My Muddy Name

To fill you in on the backbeat; during high-school I recieved the nickname Mudboy due to my immaculate cleanliness.

Yeah right, the real story... My group of friends and I would congregate at least three times a week at my place to play poker (...addicted much?). Well, one day I was helping my dad in the front pasture, feeding cows, mending fence or something. With this my series of unfortunate events began.

First, it started to rain. For most, this means time to head in and clean up; not my dad, and therefore not me. We toiled and toiled, he worked me raw, water in the boots and mud in the hair (dont ask, I have no idea how that happened). Then, to add to my agony, a line of cars started up our driveway, apparently an emergency poker game had been called to ease the oncoming withdrawals. Watching them in their dry comfy cars, lit a fire under my ass. Five minutes later I was sitting at the poker table changing chips. Then it happened.

"Geez Josh, your like a mudboy or something."

Immediately "Josh" was a distant memory, hello Mudboy. I hated it, but after a few years it started to grow on me. Now it is a part of me, and fitting; not in the dirt and grime way, but in the way I have come to see the interconnectedness of the world and its events.

jp

Photoshop Phun

As you may have noticed, I have veered away from the default header and added my own twist. First, thanks to Jason Gaylor for the wonderful floral brushes. Also, the picture is from SXC, an excelent resource for stock photography.

I have been thinking what to do for a while. I wanted something organic. I have a beautiful shot of a spring meadow I took in New Mexico, but decided it wouldn't do.



That is when I ran upon Jason's brushes. I found his work at Screen Grab Confab, v.5 (hosted on Flickr), from a link at Stylegala. Check both sites out, they are great (stylegala is my digital crack).

A brief time in photoshop and waalla!

jp

Diamond in the Rough

This morning I was searching google for some insight into CS Lewis' thoughts on the redemption of the "unsaved". I ran across this site and have to share it, rather entertaining.

CS Lewis Exposed

I'm scared.

jp

Slap Me... Now

Matt and I have had the Olympics on the tube while lounging around. We were watching downhill, absolutely amazed at the speed and agility of the athletes. The problem is that they kept switching to figure skating (maybe agile, but who cares?). What the hell?

Anywho, after mocking for a while, and mimicing the announcers "Ohh, what a marvelous triple-toe-tappidy-tap-thingy" (anything that can be commented on with "ohh" is not a sport), I actually started commenting myself, in an unfortunately non-mocking manner. "She's right, he really did use up all his energy on stupid stuff." Luckily I caught myself.

"Matt, slap me."

Need Sleepy...

Man, I am becoming an unintentional work-aholic. This season of my life is acutely defined by that four letter word. While it has been rediculous hours, I cannot say it is all bad. I am actually really enjoying being busy, I have been very productive and feel that a sense of accomplishment at the success we are achieving.

It is a trade-off, though. Work, while great and enjoyable in its own way, has definitely cut into my usual social activities. For instance, right now it is 11:30 at night; I got home at 10:15 and had drawings to revise, so I actually was on my own time at about 11:00. And all of that is after getting 4.5 hours of sleep last night. And, yes, I am aware that I must be psycotic, why the hell am I not in bed? Well, I really wanted a glass of wine, so what else to do while I emerse myself in its ruby goodness?

I have been having fun on the side. Sunday I treked up to Tomball and bummed at the padres for a while. I used my dad's new scanner to scan in some of my medium format negatives. That was relaxing, and fun. It inspired me to knock the dust off my Holga and start shooting again. I figure that if I can learn to process my own negatives, I can just scan and print; later processing fees. Plus, this should open the door for all sorts of creativity. Enough talk, here are some of my favorite scans below;


This is a house on Montrose owned by some art foundation, unfortunately it is now demolished (even more so) and it looks like a commercial building is taking its stead.


A picture I took on the way home from Albuquerque.


This is not my Holga, it was taken with an old Minolta Autocord (twin lens). A long(ish) exposure of a stream in Colorado.


This was on a missions trip to Honduras through Living Water International. This was also the first drilling rig I was exposed to, who knew?


Ok, seriously, I have to go to bed, you've kept me up long enough.

American Headturners

Friday a man who does not even speak english helped me catch a glimpse of my core nature, it was rather ghastly. Arpicio is one of the field hands who has been working with me for the past few days. After a hard days work, I drive him and another back to their house (it is only a few minutes down the road from me), but friday the drive took an unexpected turn.

We were stopped at a red light when a homeless man started weaving through the jungle of chrome begging for money. When he arrived at my passenger-side window, I naturally turned to look through my drivers side window. Arpicio, however, began to dig in his pockets, extracting a dollar bill - he rolled down the window and gave it to the man on the street. I was taken aback, Arpicio cannot make much more than minimum wage, he shares a house with other migrant workers to save money, yet he gave without hesitation when the opportunity arose.

A few minutes later, while pondering the generosity shown, I actually caught myself stealing a glance at a BMW in a car lot. I have no desire for a luxury car, yet I was still there admiring its beauty. What is wrong with me? I turn my head from a homeless man and cast my gaze upon a car, a mere trinket?

Unfortunately I believe my reaction to the beggar was indicative of a broadly held perspective, ignore the ugly and think about what will make you "better".

jp

PS - I would be remiss not to note that the beggar looked quite strung out, and while the issue of supporting people in such situations is an issue to ponder, my reaction was still revolting.

The Trip

The rumor is that a picture is worth a thousand words so I feel that the best way to share my European experiences with you is through the lens. You can see several of our trip pictures on my flicker page here. I will try to post a few stories in the next few weeks, but in the mean time I hope this will do.

You may also find some posts on Jasies blog "The Jasie Journal" and Justins "News and Noise".

jp