the second time around.

Dear Readers,

I have decided to write a book in blog form. The topic will be on the Second Coming of Christ. Don't ask how I think it's possible for me to write a book this way. I just feel inspired to write my thoughts down and see what happens. The title of the book will be called 
"THE SECOND TIME AROUND."    

Here I go!!!!   

Chapter 1    

Hello World

What would happen if Christ came down to modern day earth for a short, fly by the seat of His holy pants visit?  Maybe He would say something like, "Hello World. You need to get ready because I am coming back soon!" How would the world respond? Let's just pretend He came down to check on things and to make one last alter call before the big day.

no words

jump a bump

~backwards, the great divide i cross

detour to dark, a hole in chains

half of a heart, words are lost

fading dreams i shout to swear

storms hit the sea, do i drown?

a wall there, my quiet wail, pray i dare?

downward, steps then spiral, faith far from up

trip in terror, web of lies no end?

signs, life, tunnel, light- jump

 BUMPS OF LIFE

A dead man can't jump. But if your alive, you have a shot at squeezing everything you can out of your life. For the past seven months, my life has looked like this....

Starring as....

 Once again the entire world has seen a talented star exit center stage. Another delicate star that was dimmed too early. The curtain has been closed on Phillip Seymour Hoffman's brilliant but dramatically painful life. Here is a man who achieved monumental success despite suffering  from a very public drug addiction. PSH did a masterful job playing such complex characters, yet always managed to hide the pain behind his silver screen smile. How do we deal with one more artist who has taken another deadly turn down the well traveled road of self destruction? PSH was an artist who offered us so many powerful works of portrayal. Years ago I asked myself why so many artists seem to be destined to a life of tragic consequences. Sadly, yet again, one of the great artist of our day had one last heroin haze and took his final bow. His three children were only a few blocks away from his apartment waiting to see him. His last role was starring as a desperate man on the run from an adversary called himself. 


 Who cares? family~friends~fans~media~industry~dealers

 Do you care? prove it. We can all join together and help.     

 singdancewritepaintplaycoachactdirectproduce az 

                                                               
What is az?

artist/zion~ az we sing and dance to Zion.

(It sounds silly but stranger things have been done in the name of art.)

(This will be done in the name of Christ. )

                         
  ~az is a united community of artists that are sacredly devoted to following the ways of Christ (Zion.) We support those who walk a difficult creative journey through life.

We ask real questions that lead to an empty and open path of simplicity.(and yes we do use zen to trigger enlightenment.)

* az an artist will you vow to fight for the fallen?

* az an artist will you bear witness of the light?

*az an artist do you confess that your creative gift is born of divine breath?

 *az an artist if you rise taller than the trees will you stay rooted?

Before and after every film i see the actor's name and character they are portraying. 
It always makes me think. If God has given me a role to play, then who am i starring as?

Note:
We will have the first gathering for az on Sunday, Feb. 9 @ 5pm
It will be at our house.To take part you can reach out to me for the address.

Christ in my Crisis.

       

YOUR WORLD IN CRISIS.

Do you ever try to talk your way out of trouble? We have all had that conversation with ourselves about a particular crisis in our lives. We may say, “All is right in my world?” But it feels silly to say that right? No burdensome and worldly weight could ever bog me down. Wait, that’s a lie that turns the corners of my mouth upward with a have hearted cynical smile. With aggravation I proclaim to my creator with a confused chatter. To the top of my lungs I yell,"A world without crisis is not the real world I live in.” Okay, I know this. So why would I say such a ridiculous thing? I think it’s because my sometimes fragile emotional life seems to wind up broken and at the bottom of a dark and lonely barrel. I experienced this feeling just after my last post about four months ago.

MIGHTY MASTER

What have I learned these last few months? I have found out that learning can be a hard and pushy process. It gets hard when the one who is doing all the pushing is the “ALL MIGHTY MASTER.” Being a lifelong learning pupil who is placed or divinely pushed to the front row of the class is very hard to come to grips with. The lessons are always hard in a class called Crisis 101. And I didn't even sign up for this class. I remain in a continual battle with Christ over the seating chart in my classroom of one. I think to myself, "little old pitiful me." Am I that important to Christ? And why does He always insist that I sit on the very front row? I beat my pencil on my desk of discontent. “What are you trying to do to me God?” I have turned a terminal green from the growing pains that He has tried to plant inside of me. Christ at times has become the "Mr. Green Finger" of my grounded life. He keeps pointing me with his luminous lightening rod of correction to life’s lessons that I don’t want to learn. And guess what? Christ wants to be close to me while I am going through my growth spurt. Imagine this.“For the Love of Christ!” I scarcely shout from the back row. He stirs from behind His divine desk of reason. With a warm harmonious voice Christ says, “Yes Kyndl, you need to stand up and go to the front row." So with heavy foot and heart I move for “the Love of my Christ!” 

The love of Christ is boundless. So is His glorious red cape that adorns and covers us with compassion. He is my SUPERNATURAL CHRIST. The one who is able to leap in a single bound over any crisis that I am going through. I remember back in the day when I was in my early teens and a crisis hit our happy home. One day the family television stopped working. I fiddled and slapped on every button like some nervous train conductor trying to stop a runaway freight train. In this case, I was trying to stop the television from crashing. I had no luck reviving that old thing. I waited anxiously for daddy to return home. As he walked into the living room I sat motionless in the lazy boy chair. I told him that the television had died. “It’s a crisis”, I said. He laughed at me and shook His head. He told me that it would be okay. Only a true Father can say these words and make you believe it. Within a few days, a brand new Magnavox was sitting in our living room. The crisis was over. HMMM.

Is your life on the fritz? Maybe the vision of your life is not quite what you pictured it to be. Circumstances start to scramble your sanity. The grinding of your overcooked grits leads you to languish in a life crisis. Then there comes the one question that always scares me. I sat on the front row of the classroom with a disinterested, big eyed look of dismay. Christ with his kingly ruler in hand asks, “WHO AM I?” I hesitate with lips puckered tight like a lemonhead who lamented over the sour and salty correction of Christ.

I know one thing that is true about my time in a class called Crisis 101. I am ever learning from my own let downs in life and never satisfied with my feeble and pathetic human failures. It is during my ramped up, ritualistic self tormenting that I understand who He is. Christ remains evident and eternal. He is “the Christ in my Crisis.”

I press on to write about my Life in Christ. These highs and lows are mine and yours. We live in “the fehrenheights.

Betting on Black.

 

                        IF YOUR BETTING ON BLACK, LET LOVE WIN YOU OVER.

DON'T ROLL THE DICE OF DOOM!

I am not a gambler. When it comes to playing board games or even cards, my wife will tell you that I hate playing. Even the slot machines and all of it's flashing lights and jingling tones aren't enough to tempt me into turning the handle on this money gobbling monster. I remember talking to an avid gambler who told me that one of the first things he noticed when he started pulling the handle down on the slot machines was the build up of black powder on his hands. Thinking back on this conversation has led me to write about the months of build up over the Trayvon Martin case. I will pose one pointed question in my argument for his defense. Are you betting on black?

I WANNA GET LIT.

Happy 4th of July!!! 

i point my finger to the sky and look to His LIGHT.

Being high on life is the only alternative for me. Living in a intoxicated state with mind altering narcotics has never been my thing. I had family members who fought the battle against drunken demons and I know what the face of addiction looks like. It is a face that is dimly distorted from the inability to cope with life and its challenges. But drugs and alcohol are not the only things we use to cover up the pain. The faces of power, sex and food are other disfigured images that we encounter everyday in our mirror of life. Addiction is a cunning camellia that slithers on its belly like a snake as it sneaks around the chicken coop looking for an egg to steal.