The Light Seeker

Darkness rolled over the mountains like fog,

            like a blanket of the deepest night.

The hues of black intermingled with grey,

            without a trace or a glimpse of light.

Peak after peak the darkness oppressed,

            not ceding a twig to its foe.

It was a place of doom, of haunted regret,

            a wild where not many would go.

There were trees of menace, lagoons so grim,

            and beasts of the frightening kind.

There were crags so sharp, summits so high,

            but between them a trail would wind.

Traces were scarce and footprints unseen,

            it was a trail untraveled for sure.

And then in an instant, what might have been light,

            passed by in a blink, in a blur.

There was a rustle in the leaves, a flutter, a scurry,

            so quick it was almost unheard.

It was quicker than a bullet, flashed like lightning,

            but softer than the whisper of a word.

It cut through the darkness in zigs and zags,

            darting up the trail toward the peak.

It bolted and blazed, unfazed by the black,

            determined to move, and to seek.

Not only to seek but also to find,

            it sought with a purpose, with a heart.

It tore through the mountains with all resolve

            and confronted the beast called the dark.

It rose with a fervor, moved with a grace,

            and struck like a bolt in the sky.

It fought not by sword but by light and truth,

            a truth that grants wings to fly.

The light reached the summit and tore off the cliff,

            but rather than fall it soared.

And the smallest of lights lit up like the sun,

            and just like a lion it roared.

And so the candle that was held by the man

            that rumbled over the ground,

Lit up the sky with light that he sought,

            the light that he sought and found.


2013′s Journey

            As 2013 comes to a close I’ve decided to take a moment to look back on it. While most people focus mainly on setting resolutions and new goals, I believe it greatly beneficial to reflect back and see what’s been learned along the previous year’s journey. When one looks at others it is often easier to spot change. We see them less often, certain things stand out, and changes are more apparent, more obvious. When we look at ourselves, however, we see a constant reflection. And as change is gradual (most change anyway), we sometimes struggle to notice it, whether it be in habit, in personality, or even in size. But, there are many ways that we grow and evolve over the course of a year. We learn in various arenas, and that’s what I’ve tried to hone in on, if at all possible. One area we learn about is the grand arena called life. We learn about the world, the way it works, how to maneuver ourselves through it. We take things away from our experiences and we draw from the people that cross our paths. As a Christian, I’ve also tried to determine what else I’ve learned about God this year. Our infinite Creator is boundless and unknowable, but He does reveal Himself to us. While it’s impossible to comprehend Him completely, we get glimpses, and those glimpses are priceless. Lastly, I’ve tried as best as I could to see what I’ve learned about myself this year. Like the people and places around us, we also change. To know oneself better is a powerful tool, and if we can spot our own weaknesses, it allows us to improve in those areas, or at least to attempt to. This is why reflection is so necessary.

            I think that overall this was a huge learning year for me. I stepped out of my comfort zone and that allowed me to grow and learn in a lot more ways than had I stayed in my box. I encourage all of you to do just that: step outside of your box. For those of you who don’t know, I left comfy Southern California last March and headed to the Southern Hemisphere to teach English in Chile. What awaited me there was a whole new environment: different language, different climate, different culture, different everything. Right there you have a recipe for change. At first, it took me a while to open up, to relax. I was almost always uptight; about teaching, about missing stuff back home, you name it. But as the weeks passed I began to realize that I wasn’t going to learn anything that way. I was subconsciously clutching to my old ways, and anyone who clutches to old ways will not grow because they aren’t allowing themselves to be stretched or challenged. Once I let my walls down a little bit, I began to grow. I met new people, witnessed new wonders, and lived new things, and I think that should always be a goal, no matter who you are or where you live. If you do the same thing every day or have the same routine every week, you’re not really living. You’re repeating. Even if your circumstances require you to be in the same places at the same times, try to shake it up. Meet new people, see new sights, wonder new things, read new books, whatever it may be. You’ll learn things you never knew before.

            One huge thing that I learned this year is to be content with whatever I have, be it much or little. Like Paul wrote about to the Philippians, we should learn to be content with what we have. Many people know and cite the verse, “I can do all things through him who gives me strength,” but they often forget what comes right before it. “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” That’s Philippians 4:11-13. It wasn’t that I was “in need” while in Chile, but compared to the fortunate and cushy life I live in the States, I had less. One of my favorite bands, Downhere, sings the lyric, “Little is much, when God’s in it,” and that couldn’t be more true. When we learn to trust God wherever we’re at in life, we’re in a good spot. Whether wealthy or poor, monetarily speaking, true riches lie in knowing Christ. And if we entrust our lives to Him, He will take care of us. All things are possible with Him.

            That leads into the second big thing I learned this year. I guess I wouldn’t say it’s a new thing, but rather a relearning of sorts. At the beginning of my time in Chile I dealt with the whiplash, if you will, of being so swiftly removed from everything I knew. The lack of friends and family to lean on led to a new type of loneliness that I hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t a depressed kind of loneliness; it was just different. And in that time I realized that God is always there for me. He’s like the good friend that never abandons you. He’s always there when you need Him. And though it takes some time and practice, one really can learn to converse with God, even when He doesn’t audibly speak back. Pressing into Him is best thing we can do. He truly is a refuge and He really does make our paths straight. He comforts and guides, and there’s no need to freak out if you’re in uncharted waters. And that’s exactly what I learned this year. Take a step back, take a deep breath, and step back in again. You’re not drowning or dying, and you’re certainly not alone. Lean into God like you’ve never done before and find a peace that you’ve never known before.

            Thankfully, I learned something about myself this year that I didn’t like. I found an area to improve on. It was quite humbling, and I’m so glad it happened, even though it stung at first. I’m finding it a little difficult to explain in words, but I’ll give it a go… In having an argument with a friend I realized that I sometimes put my own pride first. I admit that I like to be right, like anyone does, but I’m also a soft-spoken guy. I won’t go into an argument unless I really believe I’m right. But when you argue about something trivial it’s not so important the issue but rather how you handle the argument. I was very humbled in realizing the size of my own pride. And as ironic as it sounds, I’ve always prided myself on being humble. I don’t like to boast or brag. I don’t like to be the center of attention. I like to be modest and gracious. But I realized a great defect of mine, and that is this: if I feel hurt or attacked in an argument, I subconsciously retaliate. If I feel wounded by words, I make sure my words hurt back. And this is not a good thing. Even if I’m in the wrong, I realized that I was trying to make the other person feel what I was feeling, be it humiliation, pain, or simple defeat. Arguing with the sole aim of winning the argument is not what arguing is about. If you do this, you argue wrong. The aim of arguing is supposed to be finding the right answer, or the truth. The goal isn’t winning, or hurting the other person. And though it never occurred to me before, I realized my own pride was preventing me from being a polite arguer. This was a deflating feeling, and very humbling as well. It’s changed the way I interact with others, and I’ve tried to allow it to change the way I speak in general. It’s reminded me of the verse James wrote, 1:19, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” I always try to remind myself to listen first. I also attempt to think carefully before speaking, and if I know I’m angry or even a little testy, to be extra slow to speak, because it’s then that the hurtful words come out. I’m so glad I learned this about myself, even though it stung to admit it at first, as it’s allowed me to change and to grow.

            There’s one more thing I learned about life and myself this year and it didn’t come full circle until I got home. The opportunity has arisen for me to go back to Chile for one more year. It’s a unique assignment; different from the one I took last year. I’ll be able to teach English and some elementary subjects at schoolhouses out in the Chilean farmland. On top of that, it’s a Christian organization. The pay is not great, but I’m not in it for the money. I’d love the opportunity to continue learning and strengthening my Spanish. It’s a great tool that would help me when I come back. I’d also like to do some more travelling and visit new places. In addition, I’m still young and I still have the freedom to make a choice like this. I’ve always been a thinker. My brain is always ticking, observing, analyzing, processing. Type A, I know. But I’m also a dreamer. Dreaming is fun as it allows us to imagine things that we might not normally do. But here’s the thing. Dreaming for the purpose of dreaming isn’t what I’m about. That’s like setting goals and not going after them. So here’s what I learned: I don’t want to be just a dreamer; I want to live my dreams. I don’t want to one day realize that I’m old and I never did what I wanted to do. I never want to ask myself the question, “What if I had done that?” That’s a preventable type of regret. Although these thoughts were floating in my head, some of them admittedly formed into words after going to see Ben Stiller’s movie, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (highly recommend it, by the way). So let me say this: don’t be just a dreamer. Go for it.

            All in all, I’ve learned a great deal this year. My 2013 journey has better prepared me for the 2014 one. I’ve learned to be content and joyful wherever I’m at in life. Why? Because I’ve got the Lord on my side. As long as I press into Him, and yield to Him those dreams that I dream, He’ll guide and protect me. I’m now reminding myself to be slower to speak and slower to anger, and ever quick to listen. There’s no need getting riled over trivial things. There’s no use blurting out hurtful words just so I’m not the only one who feels bad. Take a breath, keep your head up, and be humble. God first, others second, myself third. And lastly, don’t dream and die. Dream and do. The expression “dare to dream” exists for a reason. Don’t just dream the dreams; live them. These are some of the things I’ve learned this year. Maybe you learned something similar or maybe some completely different stuff. We can always learn from each other, so hopefully my words and lessons reached or helped you in some way. Feel free to share what you’ve learned below, and whatever you do, make 2014 even better than 2013. Happy New Year, and God Bless!!!


Esta semana yo vi algo tan hermoso, y una fuerte analogía se encontró en mi mente. Se me ocurrió mientras me sentaba atrás en un pequeñito auto rojo cuando íbamos manejando en un camino de tierra, rodeados por el campo. Los neumáticos hicieron que las piedras se levantaran y constantemente chocaban con el fondo del vehículo. Lo sentía en mis pies. El auto no era bien equipado para manejar ese camino, pero nos transportó de todas maneras a salvo.

La belleza que nos rodeaba no fue algo a lo que estoy acostumbrado. Ese tipo de naturaleza no existe de donde soy. Los campos se extendieron más allá de lo que alcancé a ver con mis ojos. Fue una densidad de verde que no he visto mucho y hubo un contraste claro y lindo entre ese verde, el cielo azul, y sus nubes blancas. Había ríos y arroyos a cada rato, y troncos que brotaban como torres en medio del campo, a veces en parejas, a veces solitos. Viajamos por harto rato y no había nada aparte de la naturaleza. Fue pura tranquilidad.

Fue entonces que llegó ese momento en que apareció una imagen que aún se queda en mi mente. Desde el momento en que lo vi hasta el instante en que todo se había procesado en mi cerebro, pasaron menos de unos segundos. Para mi, fue algo pensativo y muy poderoso.

Allí íbamos por ese camino de tierra, como ya dije, y por mi ventana hubo una larga fila de arboles señalando el borde entre el camino y el campo. No eran arbolitos sino troncos tremendos y gruesos. Y en la distancia estaba la naturaleza, más bella que nunca: campo sin fin, cielos puros, remolinos de nubes, y varios colores mezclados entre todo. Cuando me enfoqué en la fila de arboles todo lo del fondo se quedó borroso. Cuando me fijé en lo del fondo, los arboles se pasaban borrosamente sin poder distinguirlos. Fue entonces que algo me llamó la atención.

Justo al otro lado de los arboles volaba un pajarito, delicado pero fuerte. Cuando me fijé en este pajarito me di cuenta de que él iba volando exactamente a la misma velocidad del auto. Ni avanzó adelante, ni quedó atrás. Fue constante e inquebrantable. Y cuando lo miré fijadamente, la fila de arboles y todo el paisaje del fondo se volvieron borrosos. Los arboles pasaban rápidamente y el campo un poco más lento, pero el pajarito estaba completamente quieto.

Ese pajarito representa a todas las personas en mi vida a quien amo, y que me aman a mí. Siempre están conmigo, resueltos e inquebrantables. Aún cuando miro hacía otro lado, o cuando me quedo distraído, están allí. Son leales y siempre confiables. Siempre estarán allí a mi lado, pase lo que pase.

Los arboles del primer plano son las personas y los lugares o aun las cosas que entran en mi vida por un tiempo breve. Pero muy pronto, sin embargo, se van. Son siempre borrosos. Los paisajes del fondo son esas personas, lugares, o cosas que se quedan por más tiempo. No desaparecen al tiro pero tampoco duran para siempre. Hasta pueden ser lindos por un tiempo, pero ellos también se van.

En la vida somos propensos a las distracciones. A veces nos fijamos tanto en estas distracciones que se nos olvida apreciar y amar a las personas más queridas en nuestras vidas. Lo bueno es que siempre estarán allí. No se marchan como los arboles que pasan borrosos. Tampoco son los paisajes que eventualmente quedan en el pasado. Las personas a quienes verdaderamente amamos, y que también nos aman, son como este pajarito: constante e inquebrantable.

Unwavering: An Analogy

Today I witnessed something beautiful, and a purposeful analogy found its way into my mind. It occurred to me as I sat in the backseat of a dinky, old, red car as we rumbled down a dirt road, surrounded by Chilean farmland. The spinning tires constantly flung up the rocks on the road and I could feel it in my feet as they thumped against the bottom of the car. The tiny vehicle was not well suited for the road we were on, but it transported us safely all the same.

The surrounding beauty was not something I’m used to. That kind of nature doesn’t exist where I come from. There were fields stretching farther than the eye could see. It was a density of green that I’m not too familiar with, and it was contrasted starkly yet gorgeously with the bright blue sky and its fluffy white clouds. There were rivers and streams every so often, and towering trunks that sprung up in the midst of the fields, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all alone. We drove for miles and there was nothing else but nature. It was pure tranquility.

Then came the moment that struck a chord deep within me. From the moment it caught my eye to the instant my brain had processed everything, less than a few seconds had passed. To me, it was reflective and powerful.

We were barreling along the dirt road, as I said, and out my window was a long line of trees marking the boundary between the road and the field. They were not wimpy trees, but rather thick and bountiful trunks. In the distance, of course, was nature at its most beautiful: endless fields, pure skies, swirling clouds, and numerous colors mixed in between. When I focused my gaze on the tree line, the background grew quite fuzzy. When I set my eyes in the distance, the trees became a constant blur in the foreground. And then, something caught my eye.

Just the other side of the tree line flew a small bird, delicate but strong. When I fixed my eyes on this bird, I realized that he was flying at exactly the same speed as the car was driving. He neither rushed ahead nor fell behind. He was constant and unwavering. And when I locked my eyes on him, both the trees beside and the fields beyond were in constant motion, the trees passing rapidly and the fields more slowly, but the bird was perfectly still.

That bird represents everyone in my life whom I love, and that loves me back. They are always there with me, steady and unwavering. Even when I look away or am distracted, they are there. They are ever dependable and always trustworthy. They will always be there alongside me, come what may.

The trees in the foreground are people and places or even things that come into my life but for a short while. Soon thereafter, however, they are gone. They are like a blur. The fields in the background are those people, places, or things that last a little longer. They don’t disappear in an instant but neither do they stick around. They may even look beautiful for a while, but they too pass.

In life we are susceptible to distractions. We sometimes focus so much on these distractions that we forget to love and cherish the people most dear to us. The good thing, however, is that they are always there. They are not quick to bolt like the trees that blur by. Nor are they the fields that eventually fade into the past. The people whom we truly love, and who truly love us, are like this bird: constant and unwavering.

Questions to Ponder

If a tree falls in the forest, and there’s no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound when it falls?

If a wild berry goes unpicked, and there’s no one to tell of its flavor, does it still taste sweet to the tongue?

If a rushing river roars by, and no one stops to touch its waters, does it still feel refreshing to the skin?

If a garden of flowers goes unvisited, and there’s no one there to catch its scent, does it still tickle the nose with delight?

If the sun sets over the glistening sea, and there’s no one there to witness it, does it still make a beautiful sight?

If the Son of God steps into human flesh, and He dies in our place for all of our sins, do we still deserve His mercy?


When a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, of course it still makes a sound.

When a wild berry remains on the vine, and no one tastes of its sweetness, surely it still bursts with flavor.

When a swift river rushes by, and no one stops to swim in it, the water is most certainly still refreshing.

When a garden of flowers blooms, and no one is there to enjoy its aromas, it must still smell delightful.

When the setting sun descends over the ocean, and no one is there to behold, it most definitely still looks beautiful.

And when the Son of God stepped into our world, and when He died in our place on the cross, we most certainly did not deserve His mercy… but He lovingly gave it anyway.

El niño brincador / The Skipper Boy

Corre debajo de la luna,

y sonríe como ella.

Salta debajo de las estrellas,

y brilla más aún.

Brinca debajo de las farolas,

y lo hace sin resbalar.

Anda regocijándose,

y todo sin preocupar.


He runs beneath the moon,

and he smiles just like her.

He jumps below the stars,

and he shines even brighter.

He skips under the streetlights,

and he does so without slipping.

On he goes rejoicing,

and all without worrying.

Joy Bones

Silence your shrieking and still your skin

            to taste of the sweetness there within.

Hush your harking and hold your heart

            close to the source of singing’s start.

Rid your day of the rolling waves

            that heave their sickness upon your tray.

Nix the noise of the barking cold

            that wrestles rejoicing from your soul.

Breathe for a moment. Pause and rest,

            and count the blessings of your breast.

Rest for a moment. Pause and breathe,

            inhale the newness of the passing breeze.

Close your eyes and imagine the night

            where the moon is hidden like its light.

Imagine that night is the last of its kind

            for the dawn that breaks will break for all time.

The explosion of light awakens your bones,

            releasing the burden of cumbersome stones.

The unbearable load of the weight you bore

            has been set free to return no more.

A beating drum rumbles deep inside

            an infectious beat that blows your mind.

It breaks the rhythm of the doldrums rut

            and tickles your bones with anything but.

Riddles roll from the depths of your soul

            like the innocent hours of eras old.

They jump and bounce and rattle you so

            and return to your motionless life its flow.

So light and life are bursting from your seams

            in melodies and songs and joyful screams.

There’s a flight in your step, a tone in your voice,

            a liberation in your soul, a direction in your choice.

That silent soul, that hapless heart,

            those burdened bones will all depart.

Here is a harmony, and all can hear it,

            it echoes in your bones, resounds in your Spirit.

There’s a joy eternal, a joy beyond words,

            a joy indescribable, whose echo is heard.

It’s a joy unbridled, a joy so divine,

            a joy that rumbles in your bones, and mine.