d i m e n s i o n s

[read slowly]
I forgot you get jealous when I'm in love with someone else

I forgot you have bigger and better plans for my life than I do

I forgot you’d rather me sing about you, than someone else

I forgot you gave me your word

I forgot you promised me happiness

I forgot the world revolves around you

I forgot your name matters

I forgot you are real



I forgot this isn’t a game

I forgot how much I need you

I forgot how much I love you

I forgot how much you love me

I forgot how you paid for me

I forgot I’m in debt to you

I forgot what you require of me

I forgot how hard it is



How forgetful am I. [conveniently.]



[you'd better read this...]
Have mercy on me, O God
According to your unfailing love
According to your great compassion
Blot out my transgressions
Against you, you only, have I sinned
And done what is evil in your sight
So that you are proved right when you speak
And justified when you judge
Let me hear joy and gladness
Let the bones you have crushed rejoice
Hide your face from my sins
And blot out all my iniquity
Create in me a pure heart, O God
And renew a steadfast spirit within me
Do not cast me from your presence
Or take your Holy Spirit from me
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
And grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me
Save me from bloodguilt, O God
The God who saves me
And my tongue will sing of your righteousness
O Lord, open my lips
And my mouth will declare your praise
You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it
You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit
A broken and contrite heart
O God, you will not despise
[Full version]


Jesus, I don’t want to forget about you

I’m not happy.

I don’t feel satisfied.

I don’t have purpose.

I feel like a hypocrite because I take the bread and wine every time I go to church, and disregard you for the rest of the week.

I’m tired of forgetting about you

Help me to remember you like you remember me






sincerely,
n.j.

..............bear with me

...............................i'm trying to get this

..............................stinkin.............blog to work

darkness, wind and fog
yet there is
light, stillness and clarity

despair, anguish and rejection
yet there is
joy, serenity and acceptance

how could such a terrible wrong
make mans soul right?

blood, nails and a cross
how can there be
hope, love and forgiveness?

is it true that
things must be
worse before
they can be
better?


ah, yes. That is the secret.


The sequel to pain is joy.

Dear Jesus...

Thank you that you never leave me

And thank you that you're hard on me

Thank you that you always forgive

And thank you that you never let me get away with anything

Thank you that you loved me first

And thank you that You heal wounds, and broken relationships alike

Jesus, thank you for your truth and your grace


Please forgive me for being such a selfish jerk.
You are dear to me.





n.j.

Today was cool. Because God is cool. And its not just because He’s something hott to wear, or something fun to do, but He just is, okay!? And today He gave me a whole bunch of neat stuff that made me happy. For once. So I was working at PGE Park. And it was sooo sunny. Oh so sunny, indeed! And I had my Oakley’s. And I was feelin it. And then I walked to Starbucks. I burned some fat. From my toes. Then bought a Frapp. And then I met this gloriously black dude. His skin was like the midnight sky. And his eyes like the stars therein. He said he was from Kenya. [said in an extremely rad African accent] His wife had their baby here, so He came to work. He choose Starbucks on 1972 W Burnside St, Portland, OR. And I happened upon him in this tiny universe of so-called “coffee aficionados.” After our short-lived conversation, I walked back to the park. I wished about having a nice camera. And wished about being able to interview him. And paint him as a portrait. Alas, I have no camera. And not a moment of time. After reluctantly returning to my toil a few more minutes, my ‘workspace’ was somewhat invaded by a peculiarly skinny little man. I noticed he was setting up a excessively expensive video camera in the Sky Box adjacent to me. After several moments of silence, I decided to announce my presence. “Hey dude! How’s it goin?” I read his thoughts. ‘Great… what do you want, punk?’ In spite of my fear, I managed a few simple exchanges I found out he’s an avid golfer and was in the newspaper once. A mis-print. We then return to our undeclared selves… Before leaving, however, I decided to find out who he REALLY was. I tactfully question the nature of his camera and his astonishing vantage point. He was the “pop-fly camera 2” for FOX Sports. Cool! I finished my work. It looked great. I drove home listening to various Feisty women. After talking to a friend on the phone, changing out of my sticky work uniform and smelly socks, I shuffle vigorously through the mail. Though, there was not much need for “shuffling” since a large, flat package was waiting for me on the table. I opened it at my desk. Then UPS came. Wouldn’t you know it!? Another package. Just for me. And my glorious day continues. Even now as my weary finger tips explore the lighted keys of my new mac. Whew…

God is cool.



n.j.

absence
 makes
  the heart
   grow
    fonder.

staring into time

a void of insularity

no guiding hope or rhyme

a voice without a melody


sing to me again

your love that once resounded

a harmony within

give to me again

your heart that once sounded

a symphony therein


just sing it to me now

and i'll sing it back to you








n.j.

Today I wore my Crocs to work. I thought it was weird. They are weird. But I like them. I like being a hippie sometimes. Jocelyn hates them. I shouldn’t wear them when she’s around. I’ll have to remember that. I also dropped my new phone. Good thing I got that screen cover when I did. It survived with dignity. Ooh. I love my piece of torn paper that says “You Are” on it. It’s so intriguing. I have no idea what it means. But a very special person gave it to me. So I like it all the more. And I’m tired. I need a nap. Naps are for wussy’s. But I don’t care. I’d rather get a good sleep and be called a wussy, then be tired and... and… whatever. I love my music.

I’ve so much to say

And still I don’t say it

I’ve so much to do

And still I don’t do it

I’ve so much to see

And still I don’t see it

I have so much I wish to feel

And I yet I have no feeling

Don’t strike my handle

Don’t break my spout

Don’t tip me over

And pour me out

I’ve written all I have to write

I’ve sung all I have to sing

I’ve given all I have to give

I have somewhere I need to go

I’m leaving now

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