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On Human Experience (Part I)

“Nobody tells you when you get born here how much you’ll come to love it but how you’ll never belong here.”–Rich Mullins

Because I’m a part of the human experiment, I play songs in the fall and pretend that my life is important enough to warrant a sound track. I think that it’s typical for some. For me, sometimes it’s Land of My Sojourn, sometimes it’s Jesus Christ.*

The other day I was with a friend, a good man, starched shirt and all. He was driving our afternoon coffee break and as we talked about nothing in particular I noticed his head swerving left to right. He shrugged it off as nothing until I asked, “you’ve picked out some bug guts on the windshield and you’re pretending to dodge them in and out of the broken lines on the road, huh?” He sputtered before fessing up, trying to retain some modicum of thirty-five year dignity. Suffer the children and all; it’s what we do.

I don’t do reciprocity well unless, of course, it’s eye-for-eye. God made rules about justice because I am manifestly un-so. Grace is as hard to return as it is to bestow, so He told me to leave the gleanings of our fields for the poor. If songs about the gleanings sell well for sub-cultural-gen-y-er record executives, they don’t make for very good personal sound tracks. I need a more self-absorbed score.

Three or four children will contract some form of cancer every year in our community. Our nature demands that we heave relief upon relief when the doctor informs us it’s not our child. And then I forgot to breathe “kingdom comes” over the parents who will not be so lucky. Instead, I sprung for Jude’s ice-cream, a reward for being called clean.

It is an awkward place in which my God has chosen to walk with us, with me. But prone to wander, I am grateful.

*If you want to listen to the songs, follow this link to “play all.”

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The Creative Battle to End the Long Night…

This is not a political statement. 

Yesterday I struggled with this piece, with the meaning behind the poetry in the oration.  If you love mercy, seek to act justly, if you wish to walk humbly, may this move you today.

It will take 12 minutes and 30 seconds. I hope you take the time.


I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of thermonuclear destruction. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today’s mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow. I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men. I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits. I believe that what self-centered men have torn down men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and nonviolent redemptive good will proclaim the rule of the land. “And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid.” I still believe that We Shall overcome! — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Is there something you’ve read or heard lately that moved you?

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“It is a truly wise man who does not play leap-frog with a unicorn. ”
Ben Franklin

I am married to a writer. A good one with note-worthy perspective and a penchant for a nice turn of phrase.  She stores up metaphors like… well, I’m not really sure, but she’s a darned good writer, nonetheless.  Once, when we were dating, she wrote me a letter that was punctuated with the complimentary closing “Ciao” (used curtly in the Italian form for “good-bye,” not “hello,” as was made abundantly clear by the context of the correspondence).  Good writers, I mean the really good ones, can convey such finality with the proper word usage.
We are friends with a rodential type known who actually answers to “Hamster.”  He has a red and blue target tattoo that represents some significant symbol from the Second World War.  I’m not sure what it means, but if he wrote about it you’d say, “WOW! That’s inspiring!”  He reviews horror films with such beauty that you might actually be inspired to take a date–not the blind kind but the kind that you’d really want to take home to Mama–to a Sunday matinée of Saw 13.  Right after late service at your local church no less.  Though these films are not my particular cup of tea, his art stirs up desire.  Not a lot of people do that.
There are a few others that I like to read in this blog-world–the preacher-man in Colorado, the quiet mother in Canada, the Hoosier foodie (among others).  They are real writers, with real books that you can really purchase (and should). I’m sure I’ll introduce some of them from time to time, along with other friends who make photo-booth art, paint enormous pictures of Jesus, or play in the mud
I’m keeping this space small for a while.  I’ll write things here I’m not ready to broadcast or publish, and it’d be frog’s folly to try.  This site will not be connected to search engines, and I will not blog-hop all over the good green earth leaving comments so that other’s can stumble across this space.  It’s not really the intent.

I would like to keep this space in the spirit of share-and-share-alike.  Certainly I’ll write here, but I also want to know what you are reading, writing, and learning.  Show me your art.  Let me hear your music, read your books.  Leave me a taste of what God is doing in you.

I hope this can be a place where we can vet those things that God is doing in us, whether through Scripture, prayer, writings, readings, musings, sculptings, or paintings.  I hope this can be a place where we discuss the handiworks.
I would love your input because, really, I’m just trying to figure this whole thing out before I land high-centered, impaled on the horn of a mythical creature.


For those of you who may know the back story, this may run a little like the common guild did from time to time… that is to say, very, very, loosely.  If you have something you want to share (music, art, writings, etc.) email me at seth.m.haines @ gmail. Grace and Peace.

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