Touch

I helped feed homeless people today. I have done it every Sunday, and it is so nice just being able to share with people who have nothing. I think, more than the food though, they appreciate the Love that we give them. I've learned that there are plenty of ways that they can get food, but what they do not traditionally have is touch-genuine, human touch. Homeless people have stigmas of being nasty, dirty, unlovable and consequently they are deprived of human touch in such a way that would make most people go absolutely nuts. What these people are really deprived of, beyond food and shelter and provision, is Love. One of the most basic necessities of humanity is gone from these people, and frankly, I do not know how they manage. One of the easiest ways to exhibit Love is by touch. A hug, a kiss, a handshake, these are rarely felt by homeless people and when I hugged Steve today I got a feeling that is unlike that like when I hug other people. We take hugs for granted. Steve does not.
It got me thinking about touch in general. I once heard a sermon on the importance of touch and to be honest it sticks with me and it has really changed the way that I think about and act towards people. Touch can definitely hurt and be destructive in a relationship, no doubt, especially if handled incorrectly, but the absence of touch can be equally if not more so destructive. A simple thing like a hug, a back rub, a simple pat can be such an indicator of Love, as my Homeless friend Steve wordlessly taught me today. Hugs can make or break a friendship depending on the frequency, I've seen it go both ways, and in Santa Monica, especially on SMSP it seems like the importance of something so simple is not understood very well. Human touch is so fundamental to feeling Loved and sometimes I ask God why I do not feel more Loved. And He gently points me to Steve and the other homeless people that I see on Sundays and hoe astronomically unLoved they most undoubtedly feel.
Good Luck and Good Eats
~Cody

God Thinks You're Wonderful

I read a book earlier this week called God thinks you're wonderful, by Max Lucado. It was given to me by a friend, and it was not a complicated book, rather it was a simple book, easy enough for a small child, complete with pictures and simple words. The book itself and the layout was super simple, but the message was profound: God thinks that I (and you) am wonderful. It's something that I already know, in fact God reconfirms it constantly within me, but to read such words and to see it put so plainly yet subtly elegant made it stick with me. I think I never fully understood until now exactly how deeply God feels about me; I still do not. The fact is that God made me and Psalms says that he knit me together inside my mother's womb. He could live anywhere in the universe and yet he chooses my heart. These things stick with me, and I hope they continue to do so because the message is strangely simple yet undeniably profound: God thinks we're wonderful. We've messed up and hurt Him time and again, and yet we are His handiwork, His creation, His beloved children. How absurdly comforting and self-confidence invoking.
Something else: I got a job, at Banana Republic of all places. It seems like every time that I am freaked out about something or have literally no control over something, like job-searching or finals or support raising, God provides and provides and provides. One day I will be longing for closeness and He will be close, but He will also bring by people to be close with. He knows me so well that He knows what I need at all times. I have never really taken a step back to think about how the Creator thinks of me and acts towards me when He is not at all obligated to, but now that I have there is only one sentence that reverberates in my mind: God thinks I'm Wonderful. Also, Santa Monica Summer Project is super fun and growth-spurring and I am having a blast here.
Good Luck and Good Eats
~Cody

A Selfish, Lying, Jealous, Murderous, Adulterous, Gluttonous, Thief

It has been a week and half in Santa Monica, and the biggest thing that I have learned is that I am a selfish, lying, jealous, murderous, adulterous, gluttonous, thief. God has shown me so many sins that have been lurking in my life that I did not know existed. I have seen the patches of beautiful flowers that Sin, corruption, and my own treacherous nature have turned into bubbling swamps. The craziest thing about it is that it does not matter. It has no relevance anymore. I may see my sin sometimes, sometimes I see it more than I see what is truly inside of me, Jesus. That is all that matters, the Jesus that is inside of me, transforming the swamps back into gardens. I have been forgiven, even though so often I forget it, and my sins are erased, gone, eliminated, nailed to a cross, crucified, forgotten. All that remains is righteousness. It seems so obvious, so fundamental to everything that I live and believe in, and yet I forget it. It's like Santa Claus forgetting how to drive his sleigh, I utterly forget that my sins have been obliterated by a perfect man being pierced for me. That is the biggest lesson that I have learned: FORGIVENESS. I need to understand it more, I need to feel it more, I need to realize the completeness of the forgiveness and the grace that has been freely given me, wrapped in the blood of an completely innocent man.
Thankfully that is just the beginning, of this journey that I have embarked on. The first, necessarily fundamental first step of my journey, completely understanding that I am totally and unconditionally forgiven of everything. No matter what I have done, all the mistakes made and yet to be made, I am free from the chains that bind me to that. I am constantly bogged down by that sense that I screwed up, constantly confusing conviction with guilt, confusing the righteousness that is inside me, trading it for lentils. Friggin lentils.
Good Luck and Good Eats
~Cody

Frustration and Peeps

I used to think that IV was unique. Then I came to Santa Monica and saw all the different groups virtually vying for control. You have the street performers, trying to make a habit by displaying impressive if sometimes unusual talents, the foreigners, flying in from all over the world to the city of LA, the homeless people, just trying to find a place to lay their heads, the rich, unhappy with all of the aforementioned groups, and then there's us, trying to minister to them all. There are just so so many unique people that contextualizing both ministry and business becomes extremely important. What's more, there are so many different world views and conflicting opinions, it makes for an atmosphere of excitement and diversity, whether it be a man who makes money by putting on a puppet show with a little skeleton puppet, a man from Ireland on his way out, or my next door neighbor.
The frustration comes in that I have once again injured my ankle, but once again seen the kindness of people in reacting to it. They only want to help me, keep me off of it, make sure it heals quickly and expediently. The frustration itself it then two-fold: feeling like I am not able to properly reciprocate that Love back to them, and being temporarily hobbled. I have felt so much Love for these people, and feeling like I am not able to properly or completely give that Love back to them is, admittedly, frustrating. As well, having to stay off of my ankle and simply rest it instead of being able to continue my job search or even go downstairs much is exceptionally frustrating, especially in such a wonderful place as Santa Monica.
The only solace I have in all of this is God: His perfect Love for me is casting all of the fear out of my heart and sanctifying me and I know that He would not have brought me here, to this place, without having a plan for me, and if that plan involves a sore ankle, I am all for it.
Good Luck and Good Eats everyone.
~Cody

Wednesday post-Death of a Son

They killed my son; they hung him on a cross. It happened three days ago, on Friday. They released a killer so they could kill an innocent man. My tears fell through the holes in his feet as the blood from the steaks dripped onto my face. I did not know why they did it, why they let Him die. He did no harm, He healed, He taught, He Loved, and He died. I was there, next to Mary, John, and my dying Son. I remember when He got sick when He was little and I would wipe his nose with my cloak. Now I just wipe his blood with my hair. His body they broke, but His spirit was His to do what He wanted with; He surrendered it freely. I heard Him say, "Father," He said, "To you I commend my spirit." Those were the last precious few words my Son ever said. After all of the teachings, all of the broken lives healed, all of the demon possessed and the sick standing around Him, all that He did in His remarkable life that started when God put Him in my belly, all of it culminated in that one last, lingering sentence. And then Darkness filled the land for the rest of the night.
It feels like it is still here though, the darkness. Just from His passing, a gloom has come over me. It feels like I was crucified with Him, like all of my pain and despair was nailed into the cross with my Son. I feel free, even though it hurts so much. I am now going to visit His grave with Mary, my dear friend who has comforted me so much this intense weekend of mourning. So many have come to my house, telling me it will be better, comforting me in my sharp, striking pain. But none of it helps, none of it eases the pain of His death. I feel so bad; I knew He had to die, for my sins, and I feel selfish for wanting Him back with me, wanting to cook him soup again, and cradle Him when He stubs His toes. Rather than watch as His toes are pierced.
I reach the grave to see the stone rolled away. Mary and I rush in; if they took Him...
He is not here, this is awful. Suddenly, a figure in white appears, sitting on the stone. "Why do you look for the living among the dead? Did you not hear? He is risen!" This changes everything. My sins have been killed, but my Son is alive again. I must run and tell everyone. I must find someone and tell someone, you must tell someone.

The Long Side of the Blanket

I apologize that I have not posted in so long, I have been knee-deep in job applications. Anyways, a side effect of being tall is that in bed I always have to make sure that the blanket is the right way. The short side is across my body, and the long side is down my body. Often I will take a few minutes at night to have to adjust to find the long side of the blanket to be more comfortable. I guess they just have not had the wherewithal to make large, square blankets.
That's what I have been trying to do my first half-week here in Santa Monica, trying to find the metaphorical long side of the blanket. Trying to take something that only kind of fits, and adjust it so that it fits well. I have met so many new people and experienced things for the first time, many things. There's one word that has become indicative of the type of adjusting I have been doing: glee. Glee has softened to the point that it is nothing more than a campy tv show in our society, but it evokes so much more: pure utter joy, exuberance. I have experienced so much joy in being here, even though there is a high degree of uncertainty and much more still to be left done, there is only one emotion that I can possibly say: Glee. I am just so giddy being in Santa Monica, being able to interact with the locals and those that I have met. It has been a crazy half-week so far, filled with lots of new faces, and interesting people. I look forward to the rest of the 7.5 weeks that I have left, and hope that the Glee continues.
Santa Monica Peep of the week: Wayyy to many to count. More to come on that next post.
Good Luck and Good Eats
~Cody

What's Next?

I was doing a little cleaning today and I saw something that someone sent me describing how they are going through a transition period in their lives, (it was a married couple) and it was titled, "What's Next?" I think that that is generally a good title of my life right now and of IV right now. There are a lot of people gone from IV already, SBCC kids, people w/o finals, etc. When the new tenants come rolling in this summer and next fall, who knows what the landscape of IV will be both physically because of the construction and socially. We know the staples will still stand: Free Birds, Woodstocks, DP, the beach; the things that make IV IV, will still be there. It is Isla Vista irrespective of the people who happen to inhabit it at any given time. But generally, there are a lot of things still up in the air, especially with lovely California's economy still in the toilet.
When I looked at the paper with the questioningly anxious title, the same words popped into my head: what's next? For IV, for this couple, for UCSB, for UCSB RL, for me? I've always disliked summer more than the year. I have more time, granted, but it also represents the unknown, the absolute necessity to trust in God in a time where I am grasping for straws, grasping for some relatable consistency. I do not know what is next for me. I know that as of Thursday I will be in Santa Monica, writing about Santa Monica Chocolate, looking for a job and reservedly meeting so many new, kind faces. But after that, it is all up in the air. I can only hold close to God, pray, and laugh as others freak out at the utter fright of the unknown. I'm thankful that God has given me a sense of humor about it all, otherwise I would be freaking out with them.
IV Peep of the week: Saw two guys dressed with the naked Borat green thing on friday night. Not a pleasant sight but one indicative of IV nonetheless.
Restaurant of the week: Woody's Bodacious BBQ. Ate there a couple of weeks ago and loved it. Forgot to write about it up until now. I mentioned something about it last week, but great bbq sauce in a world that seems to be losing its taste for the finer bbq sauces in life.
Treats of the week: Made a lot this week on account of a bake sale we were hosting. Made chocolate-covered bananas, cookies and cream rice krispie treats, dessert quesedillas, double-chocolate oreo cakester cookies, oatmeal chocolate-chip cookie muffins, homemade flatbread pizza, brownie pizza. That seems like a lot.
Good Luck and Good Eats
~Cody