A Tattered Journal

Letter Dated Wednesday, December 30th

2009-12-30T03:36:00.001-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

On rare occasions the noise of the world floats high above me; I find myself alone and listening to the blood pounding my ears. I know the emptiness inside me. It is a portal into hell. Underneath my skin, under the bones and the layers of cold and silence I wrap around my heart, under the laughter and the occasional sting of love, under the layers of longing, and under my fear, there is a mirror. That mirror can show me no lies, and to look into it is hell.

I've always known how to turn a blind eye to my faults. I've always known how to make excuses for myself. I've always known how to defend myself. But how do I forgive myself? Is it possible to forgive anyone else if I don't fogive myself? If I condemn myself and do to others as I would have them do to me, what choice is there?

I am forgiven because of your sacrifice, your blood. But with each new evil, I must ask, "Is the blood strong enough for this?" With every glimpse of the mirror, my faith in you must grow. I must always look for love.

Your servant,

Letter Dated Wednesday, September 9th

2009-09-12T12:24:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I know I'm very small. The things I have and the group of people I know

are very small. Some days I like that. Most days, nothing seems to matter,

whether I get out of bed, whether or not I speak to someone, whether I show

up to work.

It's hard to see a purpose in all of this.

I had a beautiful dream last night. You were in it. I don't remember what

you looked like, or what we said. I just remember I was happy. When you

went to leave, I grabbed on to your robe.

The world makes very little sense. I move through it like a hypocrite.

Sometimes I wonder if I love at all, or I only lie to myself. It was

beautiful for one moment to know what my heart wanted.

Your servant,

Letter Dated Friday, July 10th

2009-07-10T18:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Enjoying the freedoms a young, healthy body gives, I am afraid of the day I'll lose that freedom. Sometimes it seems far away and sometimes it seems close. Someday I'll lay around and wait for death to find me.

My residents bear that suffering so well. They're my heroes. Thank you for the privilege of taking care of them.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, June 25th

2009-06-25T15:16:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

As I write this, I am sitting on a log with the waves of Lake Michigan washing my feet. I'm restless. I came to the beach and swam, read a book, then swam again. Then I hiked the woods and wanted to go home. But I knew at home I'd want to be at the beach again. I stood frozen, looking at the waves up and down the shore. Looking as the infinite sea kissed the infinite sky. "Just be here," it called to me. "If you can not simple be, in the presence of the God of nature, then what do you want to go to heaven for?"

The book I read is called Why Race Matters. It's a challenging book because I was kinda hoping it didn't. It forces me to view myself racially. It poses lots of questions. Questions I think have been asked a thousand times without getting any closer to an answer. I think I would do the right thing if only I knew what it was. I feel hopeless and restless as I read it.

"Just be," God calls to me. "When you need to know something, you'll know it."

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, June 11th

2009-06-11T15:35:00.002-04:00

My God and King,

I love to read the gospels from time to time. I love to read Jesus' words, think about them, understand new things. It makes my heart incredibly light. But I always seem to trail off at the end of chapter 25. He separates the sheep and the goats, and I think, "That is enough."

Rarely can I bring myself to read the crucifixion. And I've never rejoiced in the story or given a sincere thank you. All these years later, in my heart I'm like Peter, rebuking the Lord, "This should not have happened to you." In a small way I'm glad to find I genuinely care about the man Jesus. But I'm horrified to find I can't accept the very story my faith is founded on.

I love him as I love myself. Somewhere along the way, I promised myself I would not suffer. I call for twelve legions of angels, and when they fail to show up, I draw my sword. But it's not Peter I see in the mirror anymore; it's a Roman soldier, spitting on and brutalizing whatever threatens me. Amidst the darkness and the earthquakes, I realize what I've branded as evil and crucified surely was the Son of God.

So I'll find away to say thank you, in words and deeds.

Your Servant,

Letter Dated Thursday, May 28th

2009-05-28T04:28:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Last Friday I went out of town to visit some friends. I was supposed to come back Saturday with my sister, but she stayed home sick, so I stayed until Sunday. Then I discovered I had Monday off somewhat unexpectedly, so I stayed another day. I stayed Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, calling home to cancel appointments. I'm happy here.

Happiness is an enigma to us. It's a temporary glow we bathe in, a thing we can't control. We have no recipe or formula for it. But when we feel it, how much would we give to stay happy? Especially me, who suffers from depression.

But then I wonder, should I be happy? Were people in the Bible happy? There are some horrific accounts of suffering in there I can't relate to. Some of the language used is extreme. And here I am, happy. Should I be? Is the Bible for happy people or suffering people? But we can't help it if we're born into history in a happy place at a happy time.

I do know this: I didn't get this way by focusing on my own happiness. One thing about happiness - if you look it square in the eye, it disappears. Maybe happiness is a by-product - it comes when you're doing things right, but you can't manufacture it.

"So I commend the enjoyment of life because nothing is better for a man under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany him in his work all the days of the life God has given him under the sun.

No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning."

Your servant,

Letter Dated Tuesday, May19th

2009-05-19T23:19:00.002-04:00

Dear All-Powerful Love,

We can't say we didn't know you.

Every story we value and draw inspiration from tells us the same thing: Spend time with the people you love. Tell them you love them. Appreciate what you have.

And then we do. We have a "moment". We reach out and hope for love. Love is a moment. Then the moments fade and we return to our lists of tasks to do.

This is the state of the world I see and live.

But what we didn't realize is that love is a man. We didn't realize that these moments are him calling out to us. We didn't realize love's power goes far beyond our emotions.

We can't say we didn't know you, because we've all heard you calling to us.

Your servant,

Letter Dated Monday, May 4th

2009-05-06T21:18:00.004-04:00

Dear Incomprehensible Light,

For fifteen months I've worked in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, taking care of urine-soaked beds, fractured memories, and living corpses. Death is a constant wasting disease. I clean them up and dress them so they can face a new day where they are a little bit more nobody, and I am a little bit more nobody.

Maybe they wish they were somebody more, and they realize their time is short. They're trapped inside their bodies and our building, and we won't let them leave. No matter how hard I try, I cannot find a way to set them free, for I am no one too.

I could hide behind a life, a family, some memories, some things, try to be someone, but in the end and in truth, I am nobody, and I don't have the strength for illusions. "Give me your bed," I tell them, "so I can rest too."

If we have souls, they must be fragile and temporary, because there is nothing we can't lose. In the end, most of our self is gone, our family cannot deal with us, and we wander the world strange, as a nobody.

But there are ghostly reflections of light down the hall. We chase them down, our breath caught in our throats and hearts racing, seeking the source, afraid to death we'll be overwhelmed by the light, yet drawn to it still. Where does life come from and can we find it a second time? Will I last? And can the power of something beyond touch me now?

From behind the cold window glass, I want to join the dawn. I sing of what I see. I want to find resurrection, the glowing eternity, existing in the moment my maker says, "You make me proud. I'm glad that I created you."

Your servant,

Letter Dated Wednesday, April 15th

2009-04-15T18:52:00.002-04:00

Dear Was and Is and Is to Come,

Today was beautiful. Something about the weather and a happy heart that bring praises overflowing. I wonder if it's bittersweet feeling for you.

"Thank you so much for letting me see this beautiful day."

Are you saying, "You should have seen what it was supposed to be like. What it someday will be again."

That is a very good thought.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, January 15th

2009-01-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I was walking in a snow so heavy it dampered the moon. I was sideways on the coldest night of the year and felt naked. My iron-spiked "no" failed me and so I'm helping out a friend this weekend at an inconvenient time. I didn't get all my work done and I hate the incompleteness. So I came to this diner to be warm and full and write you a letter.

Today has been ok, but I think that home will not be like this.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, January 5th

2009-01-05T19:45:00.002-05:00

Dear Blurry Leader,

A recent and fairly insignificant event has underscored for me how fluid things really are, and how much confusion I am in. It's when the old world comes crashing into me again, to remind me I am still in it, that even though it is fading, it is still strong. I don't want to lose the progress I've gained, but I feel like I'll never escape the suburbs.

I live in between two worlds, one fading and one coming into focus. But it's still too blurry to navigate. I know what is there, what I'm supposed to see, but I can't quite make it out. So I'm squinting and stretching my arms out and I'm unable to keep pace with this new world and I stumble a lot.

Give me eyes.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, December 29th

2008-12-29T15:40:00.002-05:00

Dear God of the Wind,

I know the power of the dark night when the wind is ripping through the trees. I've walked those streets feeling small and praying to be safe and that no branches would fall on my head.

I know that creation reflects your nature, and that people are made in your image. So I look at this terrible and powerful night and think, "All of this is inside us somewhere."

When a strong wind catches me head on, I imagine it possible to be swept up into heaven, and how long ago for men, heaven was just above the sky. But we've been past the sky and found nothing.

I know this world is a shadow. I know it is a copy of the spiritual, so to look for heaven and find it hollow is no surprise. I know the day I sinned, my spirit died and too became a shadow. But I feel the wind ripping through me.

Jesus loves me, this I know.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Saturday, December 13th

2008-12-13T19:29:00.002-05:00

Dear God of Ice and Snow,

All of creation sings your glory, and I walk a bleak land of winter night. It tells me you are cold, remote, and silent. I could not survive long out here.

In the warm, I had doubts and complaints, and when I felt the cold knocking on my skin, they increased. But into my walk, my whining froze to death and I had marvelous thoughts.

I wonder when I get home, really home, if there will be snowy places with night, where I can look at you far away and vast, and learn from the cold.

You Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, December 11th

2008-12-11T11:56:00.002-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

As I laid awake last night, I tried to imagine dying. It's something I do a lot. Not so much dying, as being in your presence. Then I try to imagine nothingness. I can't really imagine either. I tried not to feel fear. I tried not to imagine something safe. I tried to just feel it, as real as it is inside of me. I let some spirit take me to another place in my mind. I just tried to feel, to let myself be overwhelmed. It's like the wind rushing past my face so fast that I struggle to get a breath in. I try not to let myself react emotionally, just let it be.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Friday, December 5th

2008-12-05T02:38:00.003-05:00

Dear God of the Plan and the Way,

"If you fail to plan, then you plan to fail." - Harvey MacKay

I had a plan once, but it didn't really work out. I think I stopped believing in plans. There are too many ugly things with plans, disappointments, failures, and ends justify the means. They're billigerent and willful creations, rigid to hold themselves up.

"I say there's trouble when everything is fine. The need to destroy things creeps up on me everytime." - Jenny Lewis

But without a plan, I feel like the destroyer. I can't decide whether to be present and disbelieve other people's plans, or crawl into a hole and let others follow their plans unaffected by me. I wonder, if you're preparing me for glory, why am I this way? Or am I being prepared for destruction?

"I got a way? Is that better than a plan?" - Malcolm Reynolds

I can believe in a way, though. A set of ethics to live by and see where it takes me - an unknown destination. But not really. You always knew my way led to you. God, you have always had a plan and you have always had a way. You didn't teach me your plan; you taught me your way. So as I live, may I love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and mind; may I love my neighbor as myself; may I only be mildly surprised at where that way leads.

Your servant,
BJ

"Every society has its fringe dwellers, and every society fears its fringe dwellers. Usually because they are the example of what happens when you fail in that society. But they are seldom dangerous in reality." - Dr. Temperance Brennan

Letter Dated Monday, December 1st

2008-12-01T08:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

It was beautifully silent when the snow fell tonight. I went back inside from brushing off the car to say to my family, "It's snowing very peacefully," just in case I died on my way to work. I wanted to have profound last words.

It was such a beautiful scene that I was filled up with meaning. Death is the only meaning I know, hence my logical mind assumed a meaningful scene meant I was going to die. At least, that's how I would write it, if I was writing my life as a story. The pressure and finality of death give life meaning. Eternal life takes the pressure off. It's the cheesy happy ending.

But I'm wrong in my assessment. I didn't die on the way to work, and yet I saw something meaningful. It's life and not death that is meaningful. In a life that has no end, my actions never cease to have meaning. Death is the senseless and unnecessary end that silences everything I do.

Lord, give me hope in the knowledge that everything is meaningful.

Your servant,
BJ

Later Dated Saturday, November 29th

2008-11-29T07:50:00.002-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I am a parenthetical heretic. When life gets too stressful, when pressure is too much, when I have emotions to numb, I open a parenthesis. I pick a predictable sin and plan out my rebellion. I announce with a slap in the face I'm opening my parenthesis. God and I are on a break. Anything I do after the parenthesis is open doesn't count. And I get my money's worth.

When I feel the ache of the broken relationship, I close the parenthesis by asking for forgiveness, and the whole episode is shipped infinitely east. No harm, no foul.

But there is harm. I'm becoming the hypocrite, the pharisee profiting off the loopholes I've created. I'm disingenuine, poisoned, and sad.

You are the fearless leader, but I follow with fear. I'll only go so far, and I trust my parentheses above all else. But you are the God of each moment, and my life is a continuous whole. Time can't be stopped or divided. You live in every part of my life, the good and the bad. I wish you didn't. It would be easier if you ran and hid from my evil, because then I'd know I wasn't hurting you. But if you hid from my evil, I couldn't be saved.

Because you love me, you are everywhere. No parentheses can keep you out.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Tuesday, November 18th

2008-11-18T04:06:00.002-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

You are the God who lives inside of me. Now I know why I so often lie to myself: an honest thought would be a confession. How far will I go to hide from you? I would cut my soul in half to quarentine your spirit. The gentle spirit who patiently knocks, knowing that living divided is an unsustainable life. My disfunctions are real; I am running from you. But I can't lie to myself forever. I must live whole. I must live one with you. Every thought is a prayer because you are in my mind. Everything I feel, you paint for me. These things from you are reality. I will not hallucinate and I will not lie.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Wednesday, October 22nd

2008-10-22T02:58:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I'm either delusional or I'm starting to have a little faith. I had a moment today, with a mound of dirt. It was cupped in my hand; I looked at it for a second. Then I smeared it on some scratches and smiled.

I'm starting to see the poetic side of suffering, and I'm smiling because I feel like I belong.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Saturday, October 11th

2008-10-12T13:55:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

When it comes down to the quiet of you and me, I never know what to say to you. I don't know how to think about you. Which is strange because you are infinite and created everything. There should be no shortage of ways to relate to you. But I look around and I see nothing. I guess I'm caught looking for transcendence.

There are these moments of poetry when I can see, but I can't sustain them. I'm not the one in control. Mostly I live in the frustration of knowing there's something more than watching your fallen image glide around the TV screen.

I don't know how to think of heaven either. I know some of its characteristics, but that's not good enough for me. I want to crawl around the heaven in my head. Show me heaven.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Friday, June 13th

2008-06-13T01:24:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I haven't really had much to say lately. And I'm ok with that. I don't think I have anything to say that especially needs to be heard. I like it when people listen to what I say, but is what I say creating anything? Am I building anything for the good?

When you spoke, you created a beautiful world out of nothing. When you speak again, you'll make that world what it once was.

When I speak, I make a bunch of useless noise. Should I ever speak again?

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, May 1st

2008-05-02T18:40:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

"Every heart is a revolutionary cell", but a heart has no memory. It is easily captured. And our head despairs that anything will ever hold our hearts, as it watches the endless conquest. But it's the head that's a coward. It won't do its job as guardian of the heart. It refuses to be in charge and decide what passion to follow. It is tired of hearing desires screaming in its ear, and it only wants peace.

When will my head join the revolution?

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Wednesday, April 16th

2008-04-16T18:09:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Slowing down is such a hard thing to do, but an illness has forced me to do just that this past week. There's been this panic over all the things I should be doing, that are getting further and further away from me. it seems like, sitting on my couch watching TV, I have no purpose. But today is so warm and serene, I wonder if any of it matters. I'm horrible at making value judgments. Slowing down is a great time to re-evaluate things. Get rid of the clutter, even the good clutter, and reconnect with the reasons for doing what stays on the list.

Thanks for the slow down.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Friday, March 14th

2008-03-14T02:02:00.002-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I dreamt last night that I was really happy. I had a great job, a beautiful girlfriend, and this church I loved going to. But for some reason, for two weeks in a row, I crashed airplanes into the churchs. First was a small bi-plane, the second was a jet. My girlfriend told me that everyone knew it was me who crashed the planes, and that soon, the police would figure it out too.

When I woke up, I decided not to crash any more airplanes.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Saturday, February 16th

2008-02-21T04:39:00.002-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I do not have enough hate. It occurs to me in the balance of all things I've become confused. Light and dark, good and evil, it's all a blur. Can you love something passionately without hating its enemies? In a world where understanding is the rule, is there any room for hate? Are there any shadows left to fear? Or do we foolishly want to know them all intimately?

Sharpen my love for you by teaching me to hate what you hate.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, February 4th

2008-02-04T01:39:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Today, I fear I've become the enemy. I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize I was doing something wrong. I didn't feel good or bad about it at the time. I was just trying to learn the job. I was doing what I was told. I wanted to be competent and good at what I did.

But that desire has confused the ethics I was taught in class. It's all become so gray. I feel horrible now, and I can't make it sit right inside me.

Now I carry the guilty secret, afraid someone will find out. I became, in that moment, what I'd vowed to fight. But I confess to you, and throw myself at your mercy. I vow, never again.

But I'm so afraid. All the hope I'd scraped together in this job may soon disappear. Then what will I do? How will I survive?

And what about when I next meet the person I wronged in the hallways? Will he remember who I am? Will he remember what I did? Or will it just blend into the background of his daily existence, because this is what his life is?

I see myself in him: Someone who won't fit into the institution.

Disgraced,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, January 28th

2008-01-28T23:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

In my work, it is so easy to get caught up in what I can and cannot do. But what are you going to do through me? I'm so busy at work, will I have time to stop and look for your presence? With so much to be done, what can I do to show these people I care?

My job is both glorious and horrifying. I wonder if I'm meant to be doing this. I wonder if I'll drown in the stress of it all and ache with the strain of always treading water. Or will I rise above to serve my God, my beautiful Jesus, and his suffering children?

But I'm learning. I'm learning how to do the job and learning how to follow Jesus. So I'll cut myself a break and smell some fucking roses. I'll have faith that the "wonder what I'm supposed to do" will change to wonder at what God has done.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, January 24th

2008-01-24T02:24:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I spend most of my time trying to explain things I don't understand. I get frustrated over the words; I can never make them fit what makes sense in my head. I fumble over them, drop ideas, leave confused.

Even worse is that it seems the less I understand something, the more other people agree with what I'm saying. I wonder now if the world is the exact opposite of what I think it is. Maybe I'll go around claiming the sky is green.

The worst is trying to explain you. The cliche answers I've been taught are frustrating beyond belief as I try to explain them to someone. They are so shallow and one-dimensional; like trying to simulate knowing someone by looking at a cardboard cut-out.

I realized something today as I was trying to explain about you. Better to show one real piece of you that doesn't make sense, then a cardboard cutout of all of you that is inanimate. The words to describe you are going to be weird and it's never going to make sense, because I don't understand you. But if my descriptions can just be true...

Truth, after all, can set a person free.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, January 14th

2008-01-14T16:20:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I stand in awe of you.

When Jacob was preparing to meet Esau, he put his family and possessions on one side of a river and spent the night alone. It was then he wrestled with God.

What is it about wrestling God that must be done alone?

I've looked over my old poems recently, written from the brink of suicide. Bad poems filled with too much emotion, both crying out for you and hating you.

Jacob wrestling.

But why did I leave my family and possessions to be alone?

I stand in awe of the mess we've been through, and of the beauty that is emerging.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, January 7th

2008-01-07T18:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I felt like I needed to walk at Hoffmaster today because it's so warm.

Pavillion: I can hear the waves from here. Some morning dawn brighter than others. Some years warm faster. Yet it's a Salem, Massachusetts kind of day. Somewhere between playful and gray and foreboding. The wind tossled my hair in the car and I thought it was you, and I smiled. It's finally warm enough to drive with the windows down! I'll stay off the paths today.

Bench: After climbing straight up one dune I'm swallowing copoius amounts of oxygen to put out the fire in my chest.

Beach: There's no more ice and the water is almost to the lower dunes. An artistic fog obscures the horizon, and I expect ghost ships to emerge, not in a frightening way, for the fog isn't that thick, but in a mysterious and profound way. I marvel that my imagination is bound by aesthetics. The air is chilled to the lowest possible degree of pleasant, to make the evening crisp, to sharpen my awareness while the fog obscures my vision.

Cold does that in relationships too. You can't see the other person, but you're aware they aren't there anymore.

The wind over the dunegrass is too much for words. I'm connected to everything, because I'm connected to you. I want to sing and shout, "I know the creator and owner of all this!" The sun behind the clouds makes rays of heaven.

When will you burst through the clouds and take me home? I'm ready now.

This good day reminds me of other good memories. You connect my past, my present, and my future.

The fog moves at jet speeds.

Lord, help me understand the things I've written.

Your servant,
BJ, who sits on the edge of the storm

Letter Dated Saturday, December 29th

2008-01-02T12:39:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I see stories all around me. The barista and the customers chatting their small town lives. The silent coffee-drinkers absorbed in their zeros and ones. The mountains of books pressing down on me, drowning me in plot.

But when I close my eyes, I hear only one story. Your story.

I open my eyes again. Suddenly every book is reduced to a chapter in your story. A story of every genre and every style. These chapters are so self-absorbed. They begin and end in themselves. They are only concerned with their own twists and turns. And they've left out a major character.

You've been written out of your own story.

I never get so much advice as when I tell people I'm a writer. Don't use metphors. Don't use adverbs. Don't write in first person. Don't try.

Don't forget whose story you're telling. No one ever told me that.

They say third person limited omniscient is the voice of today's writing. I think of what that says about us. We favor experiences over truth. We want detachment from characters. We aren't the heros of our own lives.

We're like our books: self-absorbed in our own details, beginning and ending with ourselves, unable to comprehend anyone's emotions but our own.

We've lost the plot of your story. And yet we can't shut up.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Friday, December 21st

2007-12-21T14:37:00.001-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I love you.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Wednesday, December 19th

2007-12-19T11:07:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I was so happy today that I wrote you this poem:

The winter came and lasted

Year

Drip off my calendar

I, too, exist traditionally and capitally

Slip on the ice

Fallen; they tread over me in a race to the top of a hill

Where there's a dollar and what's best for themselves

Time, my enemy

Until love became my ally

Love became my brother and defended me

Erasing my capital enemy from existence

Peace worth sleeping over and singing are now mine

Love is my economic system

I can buy happiness

Thank you for all my friends and family who love and defend me.

Your poetic badger,

Letter Dated Tuesday, December 18th

2007-12-18T17:36:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I was so happy today because of what you did for me. I went to the Psalms to find words to praise you, but I couldn't find my story there. I know because I go to church I should consider myself righteous, but I don't. You did not swoop down to defend a righteous man.

I find my story with the wicked people of Ninevah, on whom you decided to show mercy and compassion. That is how great you are: even evil men get a second chance.

Your servant,
BJ

"The Lord won't always reject us! He causes a lot of suffering, but he also has pity because of his great love. The Lord doesn't enjoy sending grief or pain."

Letter Dated Monday, December 17th

2007-12-17T10:13:00.001-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

There is this between us: I go where you will not follow.

I have these sins I must repent from.

The sin of a Pharisee -

I expect others to try and do what I have failed at. I heap on them burdens I cannot bear.

The sin of a Sinner -

I run away from your presence because of my sins. You would be angry with me, so I hold onto my sins and stay far from you. I love my sin more than you.

The sin of an Animal -

I destroy what I love. My love is obsessive and ruinous.

Thank you for you son's blood which makes me clean. How is it that I kill a man, and his blood on me makes me innocent?

Your penitent servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Sunday, December 16th

2007-12-16T15:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I decided to set aside days to spend with you. I silenced the distractions, hoping it would bring us together. I'm discovering I love the idea of you. I don't know if I love you as a person. I don't know if I know you as a person. I know I don't know you well enough to spend all this time with you. I feel pressure to run back to my distractions.

But for now I'll stay and fight the awkward silence, and hope we break through and build something.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Saturday, December 15th

2007-12-15T13:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I every time I start to try, I get scared because I know myself. I'm a quitter and a failure; I've proved this enough times to be taken as scientific fact. But I don't know you. Not really. And I was surprised today how intensely interested you were in this life. How you cared about the small details I was overlooking.

My only hope is in you. Your blood has never failed me yet.

Your Humble Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Wednesday, December 12th

2007-12-12T00:22:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I'm thinking about you and the dark and the silence. I'm thinking about you and death and despair. I'm thinking about what should be done and what should be said. I'm thinking about faith and futility. I'm thinking about the out-0f-control directions. I'm thinking about love and how passive it is, and if there is anything to do at all.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, December 3rd

2007-12-03T22:44:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I read back over the letters I've written, letters with no address, I keep in this box. I looked from where I was to where I am. I remembered how pure my intentions were, starting this journal. I remember what it felt like.

I remember the long silences, when I ran into the world. I discovered the great human truth: that we are blinded by what we see. I asked to be apart of your kingdom, and you went to war against me. You are killing all who lay claim to the throne of my heart.

I long for this to end. I want to be whole inside. I want to make a difference outside. I want to dream of your kingdom again. Reawaken my heart; shut my eyes. I want the day to dawn again.

Your servant,
BJ

"God is not angry, blind, deaf, or dumb. He knows how far you've come." - The Wallflowers

Letter Dated Sunday, December 2nd

2007-12-02T03:55:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Is it strange to write a letter with song lyrics? It's just I don't know how to express what I'm feeling tonight, but I know that this song does...

I watch you grow away from me in photographs
And memories are like spies
The salt betrays my eyes again
I started losing sleep and gaining weight
And wishing I was ten again
I could be your friend again

These days we go to waste like wine
That's turned to turpentine
'Til it's 6 AM and I'm all messed up
I didn't mean to waste your time
So I'll fall back in line
But I'm warning you, we're growing up

I heard you found some pretty words to say
You found a little game to play
And there's no one allowed in
And just when we believe we could be great
Reality it permeates
And conquers from within again

These days we go to waste like wine
That's turned to turpentine
'Til it's 6 AM and I'm all messed up
I didn't mean to waste your time
So I'll fall back in line
But I'm warning you we're growing up

I know we're ok...
I know we're ok...
These days we go to waste like wine
That's turned to turpentine
'Til it's 6 AM and I'm all messed up
I didn't mean to waste your time
So I'll fall back in line
But I'm warning you we're growing up

I guess it's the feeling of growing and going nowhere at the same time. I feel like "there's nothing new under the sun. It's all been done before," and yet looking back and see how far I've come. So I set my face to where I'm going. I hope to leave these childish cycles behind.

Your struggling servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Wednesday, November 28th

2007-11-28T23:12:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

The world is complicated. The world hurts. And I don't know who is right and who is wrong and I really don't care. I don't want to be angry and I don't want to figure it out or understand it. I just want to leave.

I want a place with no outside to be pushed to. I want a place where love and relationship are the most important things, and acting on them is never questioned. I want a place without goodbyes. I want a simple place I can understand. I want a warm place.

Is there hope for such a place? How do I get there, and what do I do? Please, I'll do anything...

Lost,
BJ

Letters From the Front

2007-11-27T23:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Looking back, I see I've only written about once a month. I've been locked in fierce battle with myself, and the enemy has been intercepting my letters. But praise God, I have decided to surrender myself and am making the necessary preparations as best I know how. Other battles around me seem to be going poorly, so I hope the news of this small victory is some comfort. I'm very scared, but awaiting further instructions.

Your soldier,
BJ

Letter Dated Saturday, October 13th

2007-10-14T02:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I'm wondering tonight about waiting. Waiting for things to happen, waiting for things to be done. I wonder what Gideon felt, being filled with the Spirit of God to call for an army to free Israel, only to watch that army slowly return home. Did his reasons for believing and hoping turn and walk away as well.

I wonder what that night felt like, waiting in the darkness with a trumpet and a torch with a jar on it. Did he feel stupid crouching there? Was he afraid of dying? Did all the waiting make him wonder? Yet you answered every sign he asked for.

I wish you'd do the same for me.

As I'm here waiting, I wish I was a better Christian. Somehow I think that if I'd sinned less, you'd be with me more. That I need to build up some repoire with you, that my soul must be clean before you'll give me your power.

But then I remember that nothing depends me. I'll never be righteous enough to impose my will, and never sinful enough to thwart yours. I just hope what I'm doing is real. I hope it's from you. If not, I'm going to look awful silly playing a trumpet with a torch in a jar.

Your disgraced servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Friday, September 14th

2007-09-14T23:34:00.000-04:00

Dear Patient Listener,

Nights are lost in the meaningless silence, and I did not start writing these letters to be silent. So much is left unsaid, and time not worth talking about cannot be well spent. I guess nowhere is a backwards sort of place to go. I've been going.

Perhaps I'm afraid of the deeper meanings of the path ahead. I've always been afraid of heights. So I'll take steps one at a time if you'll forgive the blinders that I wear. And if anyone tries to put perspective on my life, I'll just scowl them away. I don't care to see the view or be sized up.

I'll find a walk I can pace and talk it out.

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, June 21st

2007-06-21T22:09:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Things are getting brighter, and it frightens me. All I've known of life is that it gets darker and harder as time goes on. We get older; things fade away. At times, my life has been as dark as I can bear. Now, lights are going on all around me, and I complain it hurts my eyes. But I'll adjust. I'll learn to leave your terror and live in your love. I don't have much to say, just that I'm listening, and waiting, and learning a whole new way. I wanted to tell you that I'm happy. I have you to thank for that.

Your smiling servant,
BJ

"These all look to you to give them their food at the proper time. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are satisfied with good things. When you hide your face, they are terrified; when you take away their breath, they die and return to the dust." Psalm 104

Letter Dated Wednesday, March 23rd

2007-05-23T00:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I used to think I knew how the world would end. That I had flipped to the back of the book and read the end of the story. I had to know because knowledge gave me a measure of control; I could trust in my knowledge. I was certain of everything, and I thought that was faith.

I don't know anymore. I have been discovering, and have found I no longer know what I once did. It is not day; it is night. I cannot see far away things. I don't know what hides ahead. But I do know the moon is gentle, the crickets are soothing, and the breeze is kind. I know less about the world, but more about you. So I name this faith: that I let go of the things I cannot know, and cling more tightly to what I do. You love me.

Endings should be shocking. I don't want to know how life ends anymore. I want to live it. People who read the ending first want to know where the author is taking them. I'll go anywhere with you.

Your loyal servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday April 30th

2007-04-30T01:19:00.000-04:00

Dear Good Shepard,

I have not written in quite some time, but you and I have been far from out of touch. Revolutions are violent times, but I keep the lid locked down tight. In times of uncertainty within, I keep my face stone-set without. I trust no one.
When ways of living are upset, no one knows how they will be provided for. It is fear that robs me blind every time.
Yet revolutions are born out of hope. I dream of green pastures now. Help me to trust in your green pastures. I have seen revolutions go on too long. I have seen soldiers with no hope of spring.
I am slowly working my loyalties over to you. I pray you slaughter all challengers to the throne.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday February 1st

2007-02-01T03:54:00.000-05:00

Dear Strong Commander,

It is frightening when life begins to move forward after a long pause. Even more frightening is watching you manipulate events and situations to guide me. Your sheer power overwhelms me, and yet I must have this power to live.

I only know that I must learn to be confident in who I am, and who you are if I am ever to survive the moving forward. Teach me to fall; teach me to get back up; teach me to forget assigning blame, and instead to support and respect others, and even myself.

"If I fall along the way, pick me up and dust me off. And if I get too tired to make it, be my breath so I can walk."

Your Servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Sunday January 7th

2007-01-07T04:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

We have started a new year. The first cycle of days in this year has been completed, our first step in this circle of time. All the stars look the same because I've been here before. Are our lives ruled by the stars? They are in the same place every year. I might be saved the bother of living this year at all; I only need to read a journal of last year. Is one year the same as the next? I certainly don't have the strength to change anything.
But I'd change anything to make this year different. Nothing I've tried has made a bit of difference, but I'd change anything, if only I knew what.
With this letter, I've enclosed some tears. Maybe this year, you will finally make things different.

Your servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Sunday December 24th

2006-12-24T08:27:00.000-05:00

Dear Celebrated Victor,

It is at this time of the year that we celebrate the glorious day you first came into our world as a man, when God became one of us, to save us. We eagerly await your return, when this world will be purified.

We have started a tradition at this time of year, of giving gifts to each other, to celebrate how much you have given, and are still giving to us. This year, you gave an aging widow two boys to carry wood into her house. You gave a lonely old lady someone to listen to her stories for hours on end.

I am proud to be a present you have given.

Your humble servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, November 16th

2006-11-16T02:38:00.000-05:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

In this world I live in, there is so much noise, so many good things fighting for my attention, that I fear at times I might drown in them. I often feel stretched beyond my limits as a person. I come to your letters, hurting, needing healing and direction. I notice you used some of your strongest words when people got in the way of your mission, bringing in your kingdom. Teach me to prioritize my life like this. Teach me to help bring your kingdom.

Your humble servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Tuesday, November 7th

2006-11-07T02:10:00.000-05:00

Dear Mysterious God,

I was imagining your kingdom today as I walked in the woods and on the beach.

I imagined I awoke in my house to the sight of a bird at my window. This bird fluttered off into the forest, and I had a strong desire to follow it; to seek out the magical depths of the wood and learn more of its mysterious God. I had no fear or hesitation in doing so, as I would on this earth. Here, I am afraid of getting lost. I would not want to spend the night alone in a forest on this earth, for there is cold and wild animals, there are cliffs I could fall off, or I could starve. But in your glorious kingdom, there are none of these concerns. I can run into the woods, unafraid, as a child would. I can chase this bird until I am exhausted, and then I can sleep peacefully wherever I choose to lay. I can explore for weeks on end, and no one will be worried for me, for there is no possibility of harm. Instead, they will wonder what adventures I have gotten myself into, as they set out for adventures of their own. My friends are building a raft, to discover what it was that Huckleberry Finn found.

The stories we'll have to tell.

Your humble dreamer,
BJ

Letter Dated Monday, October 30th

2006-10-30T23:12:00.000-05:00

Dear Awesome King,

A group of your servants have been studying your letter. I have been particularly troubled by the story you told, of evil people who had rented the king's vineyard, and how they refused to give the king his share of the grapes. You stated that anyone who refused to obey would be thrown out of the kingdom.

Bringing about your kingdom was your frantic aim, and your passion for it is fearsome. I see now that only those who help build your kingdom may share in it. The marks of your kingdom are love, mercy, peace, humility, and obedience. These are the seeds I must plant and water. I want to start rebuilding the walls behind my house, and to make disciples for your kingdom. I have been warned: there is work to be done.

Your humble servant,
BJ

Letter Dated Thursday, October 26th

2006-10-27T02:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

Tonight I watched a video which made me cry. It was about the child soldiers in Northern Uganda, a sad tale of innocence children, kidnapped and corrupted by Joseph Kony. In this far corner of the earth is the opposite of your kingdom; a country where terror reigns, where life means nothing, and children can no longer cry. These are the children I shed my tears for.

What if I could have five minutes with this evil man, Joseph Kony? What would I do? The human BJ would want to shoot him in the face, watch the small rivulets of blood trickling from his skull to the dirt, watch the final spasms of his body as I smiled and dug his grave. I've never killed anyone, so I don't know if I could, but I would want to. But BJ, your loyal follower, would be required to only tell him that he his your beloved child. That he has worth in your eyes, and is loved. That he has killed many people's sons, and one of them was God's son, who gave his life willingly for Joseph's sins. I've never been face to face with someone like Joseph, so I don't know if I could, but I would want to. I am glad to be free of this topic, and there is work to be done.

Your loyal subject,
BJ

Letter Dated October 24th, 2006

2006-10-24T09:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Fearless Leader,

I wasn't sure exactly to whom this letter should be addressed. In fact, the enormous impossibility of writing letters to a homeland I have never seen has weighed on my mind for several days now, but I am hopeful that I may form an accurate enough picture of my land from the whispers around me, and that any inaccuracies may be forgiven a youthful and fanciful writer.

I write now for fear that my loyalties have been misplaced, that I have been lost in the darkness I feel around me. I need constant reminders of the glories of our land (to think, of being a part of your land!), but in your wisdom, you have kept your full glory from being known. Sometimes even now, when I try to think of it, I feel as though the glory is pressing in on me, crushing my meager existance. It is then I hide in the dark, in the shadow of golden cows, for fear of you. In these times of cowering, I fear my loyalties to you are lost forever. But you are as gentle a leader as you are glorious, and you always coax me into the light again, I, the most cowardly of your lambs.

It is my fervent aim to separate, as best I can, the glimpses of your kingdom I see, which mark its coming, from the gaudy false lights that flash all around. I regret I cannot ramble on all day, but there is work to be done.

Your loyal subject,
BJ

(This is my Space Captain award for October 2006.)