My neighbors. They are violent neighbors too.

Last night I awoke to the sound of a breaking window and a lot of yelling next door.  I looked out the window just in time to see a man in blue book it from the neighbor’s front porch into someone’s car before they sped off.  Cops came over soon after, and eventually everything was quiet again.  Later that night I heard one of the women from next door on the phone yelling, apparently to the man who broke the window and peaced out.  She was telling him how he scared her when he was that drunk, and how it reminded her of her ex-husband.  He kept hanging up from the sound of it, and she yelled at him again and again for being so drunk.  I’m honestly not a creeper and was certainly not eavesdropping, just their window is right outside mine, so I could not help but to hear every word.

 

I have been burdened about this all day.  Pray with me for my neighbors and their salvation.  They are such nice people when they’re not totally smashed.  I know that sounds ridiculous to say, but if college has taught me anything I care to remember, it’s that people aren’t “drunks” or “stoners” or “meth-heads”.  People like that are STILL the precious children of Almighty God.  I still love them, and there is no question as to how much God still loves them.  They are not their addictions.  I’m believing God for their salvation.

My neighbors. They are crazy neighbors.

So as you probably know, I live in a college town.  And I live in the middle of it.  Right by the school.  The house next door has two parts, an upstairs and a downstairs.  Downstairs lives a nice Mexican family with maybe five members.  They have a couple of riced-out Hondas behind the house in the alley, and a foosball table in the backyard next to a giant set of antlers someone somewhere scored with a 30.06 once.   They are pretty great and normal.  No yelling, not too much drinking, and very little communication with the kind folks in my house.

 

The people who live upstairs are different.  They are very loud and very friendly.  Today I was offered beer, a round of poker, and a tattoo when I kindly returned an empty pack of cigarettes one of them threw in my yard during the course of the day.  I had talked with them before, and they all knew me by name.  I figured I could bring it to em and toss out a nonchalant “Not cool guys” and get away with it.  I got away with it alright, but I had to turn down a beer, a tattoo, and a game of schwasted poker before I could leave to play frisbee with the boys.

 

I’m praying for them.  They’re really nice people.  I think there’s like three guys and three girls living there.  The only name I remember from the lot of them is Cassie.  So toss up a prayer for them team.

I Never Change My Mind (Journal Entry 10/12/07)

God, 

You make me so sad, because I want you so much. You hide yourself, but there is nobody else.

I miss those days.  I miss not questioning you.  Our romance summer is gone, a season of testing is here.

But I’m not scared, and I won’t be scared.  I’m not changing my mind, because I never change my mind.

Are we asking too much?  Because we’re asking for miracles.  You haven’t changed your mind, and you’ve never changed your mind.

We’re the ones missing something.  Help us know what?

In the Cities, on our Knees…

I’m so excited for the drought to come

I’m gonna open my window and smell the forest fires from my room.

 

Like burning pine and smoldering leaves,

I want to see my self decomposed before you,

Then in a year or two everything will be green and new.

 

I want to see these buildings razed.

Let’s let all of this crumble to pieces.

Dust should discolor the sun.

 

So our pride should be destroyed,

and our foolish, self-preserving, pleasure-whoring hearts can be rebuilt from the ground.

A new start, a beautiful commandeering of destiny.

 

I want this economy to crash.

Let our fortunes be utterly laid waste.

We have so much of what we don’t need and we have nothing of what really matters.

 

So like beggars, let us humbly lift our hands to the God who is mighty to save

and quick to compassion. 

With selfless faith like we always sing about let us run that great race marked out for us

in all humility.

 

I want to see these beautiful homes in our sunny suburbs abandoned and empty,

Possessions left behind,

Landscaped courtyards overgrown.

 

Because we’re busy,

In the cities on our knees,

We’ve been there for years,

asking every minute for another day, cause judgment’s a scary thing.

 

We are soldiers with guns and tanks.

(guitars and vans)

We are painters with acrylic and oil.

(words and actions)

We are models with glamor and poise

(righteousness and confidence!)

 

We are who we are 

singing over and over, again and again,

We won’t give up this one thing,

Revival’s due our generation, and that’s been said, but we are so sincere.