Are You Chasing Egypt?

How do you respond when following God isn’t what you expected?

 

Then the whole community began weeping aloud, and they cried all night. Their voices rose in a great chorus of protest against Moses and Aaron. “If only we had died in Egypt, or even here in the wilderness!” they complained. “Why is the Lord taking us to this country only to have us die in battle? Our wives and our little ones will be carried off as plunder! Wouldn’t it be better for us to return to Egypt?” Then they plotted among themselves, “Let’s choose a new leader and go back to Egypt!”

Numbers 14:1-4 NLT

This scripture talks about the Israelites after God had brought them out of Egypt. After wandering in the wilderness for a couple of years, they had finally arrived at the threshold of the Promised Land. The land flowing with milk and honey.

Keep in mind that this promise was what kept them going through some pretty harsh circumstances. Their answer to everything, I imagine, was “Just wait till we get to the Promised Land!”

It is therefore inevitable that they would have built up a mental picture of what the Promised Land would look like. After being in the desert so long, they probably pictured green rolling hills, bubbling streams, and trees rising to the sky.

Instead, they got a land inhabited by giants. The only things rising to the sky were the walls fortifying the cities. (Numbers 13:25-33)

And the people began to complain.

Continue reading “Are You Chasing Egypt?”

Seeing God in the Randomness

Find hope in your darkest moments. God is writing a better story.

I don’t know about you, but I often feel like my life is going nowhere.

Sometimes I have wonderful, meaningful days. Days that fill me with hope and a sense of purpose. Days that make me happy to be alive.

And then, sometimes—more often than I’d like or would care to admit—I have days that feel empty and lifeless. Days that make me question myself and—let’s be honest here—make me question God.

Every time I climb out of one of these ruts, I hope it’ll be the last time. I look forward to living a content, happy, meaningful life all my days.

But then, a few weeks later, I find myself in the pits again.

Continue reading “Seeing God in the Randomness”

What You’re Seeking Can Only Be Found in God

It’s time to stop looking in all the wrong places.

I remember the exact moment I realized money wasn’t making me happy.

It was a year ago. I was working a job I had started out loving, but as the months passed and the stress piled I fell out of love with it. Still, I stayed because the pay was good and I was afraid of being broke.

I was walking to work one morning when I got a notification on my phone that my month’s salary had been deposited in my account. With the addition of that particular deposit, I had more money than I had ever had at any point in my life.

And I thought: But I’m miserable. I have all this money but I’m miserable. Is this all there is to it?

I quit a couple of weeks later.

Continue reading “What You’re Seeking Can Only Be Found in God”

Write, For These Words Are True

I’m bringing this blog back to life.

At the same time, I’m changing it from what it once was.

For a blog I created to house my heart’s stories, this blog has been very impersonal. I’ve never really put anything here that gives any insight into who I am. Or, alternatively, who I’m becoming.

That’s going to change.

My life took an interesting turn recently. The person I am now is drastically different from who I was a year ago. My priorities are different. My passions are different. My faith is different—and that’s what this place is going to be about. Faith.

I am turning this site into a Christian blog.

Continue reading “Write, For These Words Are True”

The Old Man with The Third Hand

Ocean_beach_at_low_tide_against_the_sun

 

The old man with the third hand sat on the beach and watched the waves wash over the sand.

Hi guys.

That up there is the opening line of a story I recently did for the good people at The Manchester Review. For obvious reasons (*cough* they paid me not to) I can’t post the whole story on this site, but you can read it by clicking on that link up there.

This is a story I love and thoroughly enjoyed writing, and I’m glad it’s finally out there. I hope you’ll read it and, if you like it, please share it with someone. (If you don’t, well, you can always send me anonymous hate in the comments. Go to town. It’s the internet; nobody will ever catch you.)

Once again, here’s the link.

 

Until later,

Nyameye.

 

The Traveller

I travelled the world and saw its wonders:

I walked the edge of the earth and looked down the Great Abyss,

Gaping, proud, endless, whispering words of comfort and invite, calling passers-by to stop, to come closer to the edge, to gaze therein.

But I did not stop to look.

I walked among the pillars of the sky, and I saw the giants who carved them, cared for them, kept the heavens from falling.

I felt their loneliness and their sorrow, and how all they wanted was someone to talk to.

But I did not stop to say hello.

I saw sacred inscriptions on the Pillars, Old words of High Magic that held ancient wisdom long lost to man.

But I did not stop to read them.

I journeyed the seas in infinite wonder, among the kraken and the Sea Witch which rode him, among the many souls of the restless dead which are claimed by the sea for all eternity;

And when my ship sank I walked the undersea halls with the Lord of the Sea.

I saw his treasures, more gold and silver than any man could count;

But I passed them by, and did not take any.

I walked the glass beaches and climbed the Black Mountains

And saw the Brothers at the top of the world, the great Worms that see all:

The Fire Dragon, whose breath causes summer, and the Ice Dragon, who slept because his season was not come yet,

And here I did say hello, because I did not want to be rude, not to a dragon;

But I did not stay for long.

I rode upon the backs of the Great Eagles

And did not once look down;

I walked the desert trail,

And saw it vanish behind me;

I faced the Sphinx;

I answered her riddles.

I sailed the wind; I rode the storms

I fought a Cyclops,

And outwitted the Serpent King,

And chased the moon across the sky,

And ran with the Night Hounds

And I traveled the world,

To come home.

To you.

But you were not there.

Not anymore.

All there was

Was a note

That said

You’d grown tired of waiting,

And you’d left.

The Sun, The Garden, The Wind.

The thing you notice first—if you care to notice at all, and not many do anymore—is the sun. You do not notice it because the day is hot, and you do not notice it by the absence of its effect, because the day is not cold either. No, you feel the sun on your brow, but the thing you notice is that although it is there the sun doesn’t seem to be shining with all its might. It is almost like he—if the sun can be called a he—didn’t wake up fully, almost like he spent too long shining somewhere—on a couple who would be parted forever once night fell, perhaps, and wished with all their hearts that the day might tarry a little longer—when he was supposed to be asleep, and showed up for work today only half awake.

The sun is the thing you notice first, if you care to notice anything at all.

There is a garden in front of you. It is wild and overgrown and bare in patches where the cold earth does not suffer life to take root. Perhaps the garden was tended for once; perhaps someone still comes by and waters it from time to time. Then again perhaps it has always been so: wild and resilient, teeming with life in some places and completely barren in others, just like our world itself.

Green leaves are interspersed with wilting brown. Some leaves carry both, hosting both life and death at once. It is a difficult ground, the garden, and it makes you admire the plants that have survived here in spite of everything. Makes you admire them right up to the point when you cut everything down to make way for a nice little rose garden that you’ll have to water every day, home to flowers that will bloom at dawn and perish by sunset.

A wind blows gently against your cheek, soothing and cool. It makes you wonder for a second where the wind comes from and where it is going, but it also makes you stop wondering, content to sit here and enjoy the breeze. If someone asked you, you would say it was quiet out here. But it’s not. To hear, you would have to stop moving, stop fidgeting, stop thinking, only listen.

And the first thing you would hear—if you cared to hear at all, and not many do anymore—is the voice of the wind, whispering secrets carried from far and wide into your ear as it went by, carrying secrets from here, too, to the unnamed corners of the world, carrying them to They That Were And Ever Will Be.

The wind is how the gods keep track of all that happens on Earth.

But you do not know this. All you know is that it feels good to sit here in the sun, beside the garden, here with the wind. All you know is that beyond the sound of the wind in your ears is the sound of a carpenter hammering on a block of wood; the chirp of a bird that is here now and will be gone when you look up; the creaking of the Earth as it spins around you; your own heartbeat.