Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...



Someone tried to kill Staggy...shameful!

posted by Bolo | 11:13 AM
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Morning hurts a lot more when the last thing you saw before you went to bed was a red glow that looked like this:


posted by Bolo | 9:53 AM
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Katie Vaughn's response to my wicked ways in online Scrabble? "*&$% #@$% *&%$, leave the *&%$ing e's alone."

posted by Bolo | 12:44 AM
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Seriously, Shawn, you're leaving? That Mexican is sitting there, staring at me...I think it'll be tasty. I feel like David Mead's How Much ought to mean more to me, but I'm just not much. Yes, yes, yes, I know I look like the dude on LOST...haven't you guys ever seen a slanty-eyed guy with a little bit of color in his skin? Lisa sent me a scrapbook of the little rugrats 'cause she figured I would carry it around and show it to people...she was right, I do. I'm not a rebel, Popples, I'm just what I've always been. We need clear Ubercart stickers...Lylie! When someone calls you a jerk with a grin on their face, it's generally a really good thing. Doublevee, Moon Pie, and Fizzgig will soon know what it's like to be woken up by the little rugrats. Getting back into the gym after months of being out of it is a pleasurable pain...emphasis on pain. 'Drew is alive! Timtams? What timtams? For the record, I love hymns. Katie, the act of watching implies that you take action to prevent him from rolling off the bed, not merely watch him roll off the bed. I think the log is up to four, probably five. This crack in my hand reminds me of that infection I had that I opened up with Im's scissors and disinfected with peroxide...after popping out that layer of green slime, of course. My room phone has been sitting there, off the hook, for close to a week now. Well, correction, it's been sitting there, off the hook, and close to a week ago I noticed that it was off the hook. Spring League! Which ones to print...hmmm. Michael Butterworth, you have much in common with Ryan Fullerton in that you'll both be getting your wish soon. Well, maybe. I may not be as cool or as smart or as handsome, but goshdarnit, I know that I've been to more than a Point of Grace concert in my lifetime. Amazing that 'Drew blogged without tech support. That Sidamo was delicious. Yes, Kavin, Uncle Johnny is going to sit on your head and lick your eyeball. Not at the same time, of course. Need to roast.

posted by Bolo | 10:43 PM
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Coffee Connivery

"I'm getting some across the street. Want me to take your mug?" That's Ben's way of telling me he wants me to go and make a press. What a stinker. He knows I can't abide him drinking bad coffee like that.

posted by Bolo | 8:56 AM
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Bounding Home

When I fly home in April (yes, Cimato, it's really April...but I will be in an airplane at some point on the 14th), I'll be seeing things I haven't seen for well over a year. Yup...

posted by Bolo | 10:59 PM
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Inquiring Mind

"Did you just say your mom's a hairy problem?!?!"

-Peter Sieg, asking Stephen Mobley an important question

posted by Bolo | 1:29 PM
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Homesick Headline

I had one of those homesick moments again today. I sat in Sunergos, sipping on a freshly-pressed cup of Costa Rican Peaberry, and while Aaron pulled some shots for a few customers, I grabbed a travel magazine perched on a nearby table. One word on the cover caught my eye: Hula.

Usually, hula is one of those things that is largely misunderstood. The way the masses perceive hula is a microcosm of the way culture in Hawai'i is perceived, both ancient and modern. Surprisingly enough, the haole author seemed to understand that, and this helped to break down my prejudices toward what he wrote.

Manu Boyd, Robert Cazimero, Edith Kanaka'ole, and King David Kalākaua, the Merrie Monarch himself, were mentioned in just as disarmingly and respectfully a manner as one might find in Honolulu magazine. Sure, he pluralized words by incorrectly adding an "s", but that was the only complaint I could find through the tears I tried to fight off.

I can't help it. He started out by talking about witnessesing a hālau practice in Mānoa Valley, continued by explaining his recently-acquired lesson on the suppression of the Hawaiian language and culture, told of his rare and special experience watching the Merrie Monarch Festival, and concluded by telling about Manu Boyd's hālau filling his pockets with pikake.

The smell of pikake alone right now could make me sad for a week. But you know what? I think that haole guy would understand.

posted by Bolo | 10:47 PM
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The love of God in Christ can drive a man to his knees, turn stone into flesh, make rivers appear out of deserts, and cause the deliberate execution of an innocent Man a joy to behold.

posted by Bolo | 7:56 AM
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Sitting and Stuff

Chair! New chair! New office chair! And it's like I am...

...brown :)

posted by Bolo | 11:32 AM
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Woopsy Daisy

Ok. So just now I remembered that I did have Steph's just wasn't other words, entered into my current cell phone. And so what if I'm glossing over the fact that I could have called any one of our siblings or parents to obtain that series of numbers so significant to Steph? I mean, I can still call her today, right? Me being late for something isn't a happening that she isn't already used to, right? It's not tooooo terrible that I'm a day late in wishing her a happy birthday, right?


posted by Bolo | 8:40 AM
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Jesus, Thou Joy of loving hearts,
Thou Fount of life, Thou Light of men,
From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to Thee again.

Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood;
Thou savest those that on Thee call;
To them that seek Thee Thou art good,
To them that find Thee all in all.

We taste Thee, O Thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon Thee still;
We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead,
And thirst our souls from Thee to fill.

Our restless spirits yearn for Thee,
Wherever our changeful lot is cast;
Glad when Thy gracious smile we see,
Blessed when our faith can hold Thee fast.

O Jesus, ever with us stay,
Make all our moments calm and bright;
Chase the dark night of sin away,
Shed over the world Thy holy light.

This 12th-century hymn, written by Bernard of Clairvaux, reminds me of many simple truths my soul longs for and must cling to. As I looked up the history behind these wonderful verses, I was struck by something so simple and obvious, yet profound: this hymn is old. If I'd heard of Barnard of Clairvaux before this past week, I can't say that he made much of an impression, as I don't recall hearing his name at all. He's been gone from this earth for some centuries now; when he lived, I doubt he envisioned that some human of varied ethnic descent, living in a country that did not yet exist on a continent that was, in his day, unknown to him and his contemporaries, would research the words to his hymn by means of a mechanism called a "computer" that, in turn, made use of a thing called the "internet." Why do I point out my doubt about Bernard's lack of foresight with a long and complicated run-on sentence?

Simply put, his words tell my story...our story.

I would urge you to read those verses again. Do you feel, as I often do, unfilled and empty, worn to nothing by the wiles of this world? Do you seek Him, and in seeking Him, find that you fail, yet in failure, are shown by His gracious hand that He is making Himself known as your all in all? Have you tasted of the Bread and Fountain, yet hunger and thirst for more of Him still? Is your spirit restless and yearning, wanting naught but to see His smile so as to know that He still smiles when you cannot in the midst of life's ever-changing course? Do you know what it is like to be blinded by sin, to walk in darkness, and want nothing more than to walk in the light of Christ's presence, with Him near, never ever leaving you? If you do, then I would say that you have far more in common with Bernard of Clairvaux than you would have first thought... have Christ.

posted by Bolo | 3:28 PM
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Sliced? Diced? No, Iced

While I'm certain that I will never, ever, ever look forward to or enjoy an ice storm, I'm at least somewhat glad that they provide me with something to shoot.

posted by Bolo | 11:45 PM
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Geez, Jeesh!

The ice storm made the stairs at the back of the apartment just a weeee bit slick. Unfortunately, Jeesh didn't quite remember this. Fortunately, he got off relatively pain-free, but not evidence-free ;)

posted by Bolo | 12:06 PM
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Double Veed

I find it amusing that someone on campus just Googled "Richard Doublevee Hardison". That's hilarious.

posted by Bolo | 8:46 AM
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Icky Ice

February continues on its fickle way, as the 'Ville was hit with a slight ice storm today. Definitely not the sight and sound a tropically-inclined individual naturally takes to, is it?

posted by Bolo | 1:57 AM
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Yes, Ryan Szrama, I can believe that flights are unavailable from Providence to providence. I think I need to get back that copy of X&Y that Butterworth borrowed from me. Seriously, an electronic cigarette? No, Benjamin J. Hedrick, you may not watch the cow ski on the ice. Nobody actually sings Secret Agent Man in our, they feel the need to sing Secret Asian Man. Maybe the same person who took my copy of X&Y also has JVizzle's Boyce College name tag. The ice is crunchy today, no doubt about it. Daniel Crowther is undoubtedly a Mexican Harry Potter. LUFA, and soon.

posted by Bolo | 5:36 PM
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Cup of the Morning

It's an Ethiopia Organic Yirgacheffe. Roasted on the lighter side, just a couple of minutes past the first crack, this one seems to be exactly what I was expecting -- floral hints, fruit in the background, and mostly citrus at that, carried along by a nice, full body.

Yup...tastes like coffee ;)

posted by Bolo | 9:05 AM
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Luke 7:36 - 50
Now one of the Pharisees was requesting Him to dine with him, and He entered the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. And there was a woman in the city who was a sinner; and when she learned that He was reclining at the table in the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster vial of perfume, and standing behind Him at His feet, weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears, and kept wiping them with the hair of her head, and kissing His feet and anointing them with the perfume. Now when the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner." And Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." And he replied, "Say it, Teacher." "A moneylender had two debtors: one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they were unable to repay, he graciously forgave them both. So which of them will love him more?" Simon answered and said, "I suppose the one whom he forgave more." And He said to him, "You have judged correctly." Turning toward the woman, He said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave Me no kiss; but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss My feet. You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little." Then He said to her, "Your sins have been forgiven." Those who were reclining at the table with Him began to say to themselves, "Who is this man who even forgives sins?" And He said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

posted by Bolo | 9:35 PM
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Varied Viewing

posted by Bolo | 11:44 PM
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Since I've not gotten out to shoot anything recently, I decided to dig into the archives and pull a few shots out from a day back in November of '06.

posted by Bolo | 1:25 AM
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There surely must be a law against having the first sip of coffee at only 10:59 AM.

posted by Bolo | 10:59 AM
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Six minutes between first and second an air-popper...oh yeah! That was a long day of church. No matter what the rest of the college football world says, I'm a Charlie Weis fan, and will be until he makes me believe he can't right this errant ship. "The Eternal Maybe"...came up with that one all by myself, I did. Ok, Katie Mohler helped fertilize. While the volleyball video was long-awaited by the other volleyball junkies, I daresay my return to the court is highly-anticipated, too. Man, April is going to be one busy month. I want to shoot things, really really badly. Liliha Bakery, Gina's, Young's, Rainbow's, Richie's, Boots & Kimo's, Makino Chaya...will bless my dreams from now until April. Douglas and I discussed discus tonight, and I must admit, I want to play now. Second post in a row at 1:36 AM.

posted by Bolo | 1:36 AM
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V-Ballin' It

Here it is, boys, the long-awaited footage of that day up in Levering Gym. Note two things. First, it's Robby's fault. Second, John-Michael's big head got in the way.

posted by Bolo | 1:36 AM
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"Why do you wind up in circumstances that you feel are going to kill you? Why do you wind up in circumstances that you feel are way beyond what you can handle? Why do you wind up in circumstances that feel tailor-made to crush you right at the weaknesses? Why does God orchestrate the world so that it actually seems like He's kicking us while we're down? This is all done so that you will learn not to rely on yourself, but on One who has ample power: God, who raises the dead. It's all about knowing this power that's at work in the Christian, and God gives it to the Christian the minute they're born again, then literally, He places them in a world that is like a mortar that crushes them until they're weak, until they've learned that His power is made perfect in weakness. That's what He does throughout the Christian life -- He brings trials, He brings tribulations, He brings difficulties. Life is hard, and if your life is not hard, you may not be His son."

-Ryan Fullerton, 5.13.07

posted by Bolo | 7:27 PM
3 speakage


Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.


Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.

O, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea!
O, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Belovèd,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings:
Thine is love indeed!

Ever lift Thy face upon me
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.

-Jean Sophia Pigott

posted by Bolo | 2:15 AM
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"How amusing that you refer to your coffee beans as though they were a harem of some sort."

-Tamara Hedrick

posted by Bolo | 10:08 AM
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Cup of the Morning

'Tis a single-origin African in the mug, namely, an organic Sidamo. Ben just got sent to the back to make another press, since the first press is pretty much gone. I'm thinking the next batch is going to be some sort of mystery blend, since he just came out and handed me about ten empty valve bags. never knows.

posted by Bolo | 10:49 AM
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posted by Bolo | 1:16 AM
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Six bucks for music, five for a book...go now.

I felt like Pumba when I took a gander.

He's learning to bend, most definitely.

You heard it here first: the Na SBTS discount applies again this year! Unless, of course, you heard it from me before this.

posted by Bolo | 3:38 PM
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IBC's Sandwiches & Shepherding as well as the prayer meeting are both canceled for tonight.

posted by Bolo | 10:03 AM
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Peter opened the blinds and exclaimed, "Dang, that's some fatty snow!"

posted by Bolo | 9:46 AM
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Mmm...I think the mornings melt into one another after a while.

posted by Bolo | 8:04 AM
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Two out of three of Lawhead's Pendragon Cycle have been completed, and I must say, I dig it. Does Kev wait until he has to shop to answer my calls? I've roasted up the, not Jeesh. Good grief, my chest still hurts from Saturday. I love how my brother presumes that surfing will be involved with my trip home...I mean, am I that transparent? I type in that I'm laughing, and Cimato can almost hear me. David Mead's Astronaut has to be considered perfect night-roadtrip music. Captain Cannonball it is! Despite his deepest, darkest fears, Mr. Mikami will be corrupted, no doubt about it. Listening to Michael Bublé makes a guy want to fasten on a pair of cuff links, tie up a Windsor, and slip on a pair of split-toe bluchers. I've concluded that I'm a strange, strange creature, and as such, I belong in no other IBC caregroup than that which places me together with the other strange, strange creatures of IBC.

posted by Bolo | 12:46 AM
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3 John 4
I have no greater joy than this, than to hear of my children walking in the truth.

I thought about this after talking to Boss the other night. I've known Brian for a while now, easily the better part of a decade. Sometimes, it seems like just yesterday we could be found in the brown comfy chairs at Ward, doing what we did best: being John and Brian. We didn't do that yesterday, though, or any other day in recent memory. In fact, I doubt that many, if any, tomorrows will look like that, either.

I remember the first time we met...I was Punk. Not a punk, mind you, but Punk. (Those of you who've seen that little video will understand.) Boss was merely Brian to me back then, and not yet the diminutive Filipino friend with whom I would go on to share so much: sessions at Kewalo's, meals at Gina's, and international phone calls spanning continents and oceans.

Through it all, I think I've come to realize what a profound influence he can have on my soul. When Boss is happy, I am happy. When Boss is sad, I am sad. This is more than just one of those "BFF" type of declarations; if anything, it's decidedly Christ-centered and selfless. You see, what I realized so long ago is that what makes Boss a guy I'm going to fight with my life for is that no matter what, I've consistently seen one thing in Him: a longing for Jesus.

When we conversed the other night, I told him as much. He's brutally honest, but that comes from wanting the truth so desperately. He hates the facades around him, and he longs to see through the things dim the Light. That's why hearing of him walking in the truth is such a joy: with Brian, beholding the truth and savoring it invariably becomes a shameless declaration of joy.

posted by Bolo | 6:20 PM
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posted by Bolo | 8:54 AM
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posted by Bolo | 11:04 PM
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It's snowing outside, and I'm more than willing to go on record as saying that I'm none too happy about that. Yup. Take that, snow.

posted by Bolo | 10:28 PM
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posted by Bolo | 12:00 PM
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High beyond imagination
Is the love of God to man;
Far too deep for human reason;
Fathom that it never can;
Love eternal
Richly dwells in Christ the Lamb.

Love like Jesus' none can measure,
Nor can its dimensions know;
'Tis a boundless, endless river,
And its waters freely flow.
O ye thirsty,
Come and taste its streams below.

Jesus loved, and loves for ever;
Zion on His heart does dwell;
He will never, never, never
Leave His church a prey to hell.
All is settled
And my soul approves it well.

Number 582 in Gadsby's Hymns, I've been listening to Red Mountain Church's rendition of these verses for the past week or so. It's caused me to ponder anew the love of God, namely, the love of God given in Christ. Experientially, that love is so strange, so...paradoxical. How so, you ask? Well, think of this: God's love gives life, yet it kills our sinful flesh, even our very desires, whether they be good or bad; God's love often seems to crush us when He actually works to build and strengthen us, desert us when He works to draw us near; God's love, though overwhelmingly infinite in its scope and dimension, is nevertheless beheld and beloved through the lens of life and its minute meanderings.

I picture in my head a vast river, one that God bids me to bend and drink of. The command to bend and drink seems to imply that I am to drink the river...all of it. Is it impossible to do? Yes, but that does not mean that I will not still bend and drink. God's love is like that: it is infinite, impossible to swallow in its entirety, yet that does not mean that we are not to drink deeply, continually, unceasingly, for we are still meant to have all of it.

posted by Bolo | 10:00 PM
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Because I'm...

Late the other night, the residents of Fuller Hall gathered in the basement during the tornado warnings. JV was pretty out of it and was practically drooling in her sleep. I sent a text message to Katie telling her that I was about to take video footage of her sister drooling in her sleep. This was her reply:

Why? Because I'm John Letoto :)

posted by Bolo | 10:06 AM
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Never, ever, ever let Ben Hedrick do auto-detailing on your car. Maybe someone else's car, but never your own.


posted by Bolo | 11:18 AM
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Wonderings and Ponderings

If the gospel is better than fiction, why does fiction excite more than the truth? For that matter, why do we treat concrete reality like a quaint, fanciful memory? If the gospel is simple and clear, why is it constantly added-to?


posted by Bolo | 10:49 AM
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Homebound, baby, homebound!

posted by Bolo | 11:44 PM
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Uninformed on Uniforms

It's just wrong that any red-blooded, testosterone-driven, leg-and-chest-and-pit-and-facial-hair-growing American male should choose a Super Bowl favorite based upon their "outfits." They wear uniforms, Stephen, uniforms!

posted by Bolo | 12:19 PM
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Imaginative Imagery

I took two shots like this. The lens was fogged over a bit on this, the first one, but I didn't realize it until after I'd already captured the image. The fogging blurred it in spots just enough to make it look like it really was a cold, somewhat foggy day.

This image makes me feel like I ought to be able to say something profound, or at the very least, offer up some keen observation or poignant anecdote. Unfortunately, words fail me at the moment...

posted by Bolo | 11:43 PM
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I'd be willing to wager that quite a handful of my friends have been able to legitimately say the phrase "my roommate Rob" at some point in their lives. Fact: it's really hard to sleep if your body itches all over. No, National Signing Day has nothing to do with political sign-holding. I'm officially going on record as claiming the liquid hand-soap stalagmite and stalactite formations in the office bathroom are evidences of clean messiness. Oh yeah, I'm the brown friend! Spring would be nice. Patti Withers is now known as P-Wizzle. Dr. Chippy in the Honolulu Marathon? I'm working on it, folks.

posted by Bolo | 3:47 PM
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Cup of the Morning

Mystery blend...hmmm...I think. Definitely something Ethiopian in here, at the very least.

posted by Bolo | 8:43 AM
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"Now hope is a faculty of the soul to look out for mercy."

-Thomas Hooker, The Poor Doubting Christian Drawn to Christ

Mercy, by its very definition, is to receive or not receive that which we deserve. If this is so, and if Hooker's statement is true, then I find hope to be a most difficult endeavor. I say this because I find within my soul the principle to look toward the consequences of my actions, of my character. If I lie, steal, or lust, then it should follow that I should bear the penalty for such actions. In fact, it would be unseemly of me to act in such a manner and not expect some sort of just retribution to come down upon my wrongful soul.

Where, then, is hope?

Hope does not turn a blind eye toward justice; if anything, it looks toward justice full in the face, seeking it out, not wavering from one moment to the next. Hope, however, sees that justice has already been paid in full, and having done so, expresses naught but mercy for those who would be otherwise condemned. Hope sees the failing, stumbling actions and character of the sinner as the sweet and savory fruit of the life of a saint united with Christ. Hope is the act whereby mercy is no longer merely theory, but where it is longed-for, where it is looked-for.

posted by Bolo | 8:44 PM
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From Friday evening until early yesterday afternoon, I had exactly zero cups of coffee. Yes, that's precisely how sick I was...*sigh*.

posted by Bolo | 12:28 PM
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I Used To

I used to think in Pidgin. I used to read on the bus. I used to tuck my jeans into my socks, wrap a shirt around my head, and pretend I was a ninja. I used to hate coffee. I used to sleep in Mrs. Taniguchi's chemistry class. I used to spike my hair. Yes, I used to have hair. I used to be afraid of the ocean. I used to hate shirts with collars. I used to have a tan through the entire year. I used to read in the rain...ok, still do. I used to be Stick Boy. I used to live on Skyline Drive, where glorious sunsets were a foregone conclusion, not a possibility. I used to call the surf report (808-596-SURF) every day, several times a day. I used to want JAMS really, really badly. I used to wish I could be away from my siblings, then I wished that I could be around them 'cause I missed them, but now I wish that I could be around them 'cause they miss me. I used to know the people who were recorded on the surf report. I used to really, really, really be afraid of, it's the living that I fear. I used to let my mom take me shopping. I used to plan my weekends around UH baseball games. I used to get sent to the back of the food line in Mr. Saiki's class, just like at home. I used to think life couldn't get better than surfing until sunset and dinner at Gina's...still kind of do, actually...kind of.

posted by Bolo | 6:22 PM
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Bleh Bleh Bleh

Yes, my dear readership, your favorite blog writer is still sick.

posted by Bolo | 7:30 PM
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There is no way any sane person would like the taste of Theraflu.

posted by Bolo | 9:05 PM
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posted by Bolo | 3:52 AM
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Jeremiah 2:11b - 13
"But my people have changed their glory for that which does not profit. Be appalled, O heavens, at this, and shudder, be very desolate," declares the LORD. "For My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, to hew for themselves cisterns, broken cisterns that can hold no water."

I have several reactions to this passage, all of which I've thought over for the past few days.

First, I am inclined to think of the context, both culturally and historically. The day and age of Jeremiah was such that none of his hearers could mistake the jealous claim the LORD was making through His prophet, for no person in his or her right mind would seek to establish a home away from a reliable source of fresh water. Through this analogy, God was making clear that He didn't merely provide the means to live, but that He Himself was (and is) the means to live. This, of course, was nothing new to Israel. In fact, it was precisely their continued willful, stubborn sinfulness that causes God to bring in the heavens to react, for God's chosen people were far too hardened and deadened to see the heinousness of their sin.

Second, I am brought to heel by the sheer weightiness of the danger of sin. Here, God is not merely whining like a jilted lover; no, He is making very clear that He has been wronged, and that in this wrong, His people are killing themselves. Sin does not make war upon God in such a fashion as to be able to actually harm or diminish Him in and of Himself. For, though He Himself does not diminish in glory, Man's perception of that glory is greatly impaired by the deadly effects of sin.

Third, I find it easy to despair of my own sin when I read this passage. In fact, I distinctly recall feeling downcast upon reading this passage, for it gave yet another reminder of the constant and consistent failure I've felt at trying to live up to honoring God, the very fountain of living waters. I see the cisterns of life all around me, and no matter how hard I try, I see the cracks, I see the breaks, and I know that even if those vessels would hold water, it would only grow stale and bitter before very long.

Fourth, I find a glorious glimmer of hope that the LORD speaks of His people forsaking Him, not Him forsaking His people! God often speaks of His anger toward those who forsake Him, yet His anger always purposes to turn wayward sinners back to Him. Even when warning sinners of eternal punishment, He does so with an eye toward repentance! In the midst of reading a passage like this, I can feel great shame over sin. I want to run, I want to hide, I want to cower. Yet, even here, God does not turn away from the sinner. Indeed, He exposes the sinner, shines brightly the gracious light of holiness upon their sin, proclaiming boldly the terrors of their ways. While this may cause the sinful heart to cringe in unwanted attention, is this not gracious? And is it not still more gracious to ponder anew that the One from whom God turned away, the One who became sin on the cross, is the very One whom God sees when He gazes into the heart of those who still struggle with sin, those saints who know what it is to be failing and often falling, yet still repenting and hating sin, hoping in and loving Him?

posted by Bolo | 12:28 AM
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