My friend Hunter

First bit of information: My friend Hunter arrived here at Calvin Crest almost two weeks ago.
Second bit of information: On Mondays (most) all of the staff get together for "Bible study"; these last few weeks we have been discussing each beatitude from Matthew 5. Last week was "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

And somehow we ended up talking about the genocide in Rwanda, and the genocide occuring in the Darfur region of Sudan over the last year and a half. Hunter expressed that he was not content simply to use other people's suffering as an example.

So here is a chance not to use other people's suffering, but to perhaps do something about it.

I wear a white wristband

that says ONE on it. It's one of the rubber-band ones, that Lance has made so popular. THis wristband reminds me of people less fortunate than myself, nations less fortunate than this place I just happened to be born in. Sometimes it pisses me off, because I cannot figure out what good my life is for people who are needy, people who live on a different continent, but are not less worthy than me. There is so very much wrong in the world, death and injustice, decay and despair, and my feeling of impotence makes me want to take the wristband off.

A few months ago I read an article in Time Magazine by an economist named Jeffrey Sachs. He is now in charge of the UN Millenium Project, and the goal is to half the world's extreme poverty by 2015. An estimated 1.1 billion people live on less than $1 a day, and they cannot live like this. 8 million people will die this year because of their lack or resources. My wrist band is to remind me and help others learn about the ONE campaign, which put's public pressure on politicians to hold the U.S. accountable to fulfill its commitment of 0.7% of the the U.S GNP to the UN Millenium Project. This money will be used for education, AIDS relief, environmental, agricultural, economic aid, and debt relief for fellow humans being crippled by their circumstances.

I cannot do anything. I cannot help. I am not a lawyer, an economist, a doctor, a politician. I have no connections, no influence, no political capital, no wealth. I wear this wristband and languish in America. I want to tear this wristband off, but I cannot.

"We must never be satisfied with mere protest or complaint about the things we believe are wrong. Rather we must do the harder, more creative, and ultimately more prophetic work of finding and offering alternatives. "

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord"

Sunday Afternoon

I'm sorry, I just haven't had much drive to post about anything lately. Except that my parents are celebrating their 40th anniversary this June. This amazes me, because I am starting to feel like I have been married for a while, and it hasn't been much more than a year and a half. I am thankful for my parents, and thankful to them for this gift to us, their children. They are going to Prague in September to listen to music and then into Germany to see all the places that J.S. Bach used to live. They deserve it. (This is a very Cory Pina-esque post)

jc

the way that deal goes down

One of my favorite bands is a band called Waterdeep. Actually, they are pretty much my favorite [animal]. They love Jesus, they love singing, they love rocking, they love writing. They=Don and Lori Chaffer, who play lead and rhythm guitar respectively, and they sing and write all the songs. They have a keyboardist, a bass player, and a drummer. They are fantastic, artful, graceful with words and meldies that should not flow, would not flow for anyone else. I am learning to play electric guitar from them. It is really fun. They know about living - which I am barely able to do, most days.

A few days ago my friend asked a question about living. He lives in Westminster, Colorado, and works in Boulder. He asks if he is willing to be poor by local standards to do the thing he wants to do. And I say, before I put myself in his shoes, of course he should be willing, this making a living thing is about being generous and thankful. And now, I feel sheepish (what does that mean) - I feel naive. I don't want to be naive, but I sure cannot afford to be cynical. Cynicism steals my life. Once more, the way of living is narrow.

There is much to report...

...but little to say. So I will put this in a wonderfully organized and concise format, once this [ironic] verbosity is done with.

1. My Uncle Philip sent me (and several other people) a single-spaced six page email documenting he and Carmena's last several weeks. They are in their seventies, and still traveling to South Africa upon request. They are my favorites.

2. I went to see U2 on Sunday night in San Jose. It was in intricate experience tha I am still picturing in my mind when everything else slows down. They were great.

3. Did I just put a banner on my blog that has Brad Pitt's picture on it? Wierd.

4. Anne and I are moving to Denver in less than two months.

5. I really am thinking about getting a master's degree in architecture.

6. Jesus' blood, it is Jesus' blood that covers our sins, and his life that invades our bodies day and night, all there if I ask.

7. My wife is beautiful.

I wrote this poem a while ago...but it seems appropriate now

january sunday morning in fresno

colors I cannot name fly at me

in particle-stream-photon-waves

striking the rods of my eye at a magnificent rate

passing over and

under the pelican’s patient wings

I am anxious to know if his wing tips are

wet – they are only

one inch from the swells

poems are a great stock pot

boiling down to the sticky bottom

the tastes of all my senses

which is why at your wedding I watched everything so closely

and yet,

now the mottle on the Mesolithic bird’s back

is the same color as Nina Simone’s voice

crashing the mountains into the heart of the sea

over sunday morning tea

over heard talk about money

and nothing;

the silence of watching

is the same color as the line of sea melting

rain sometimes the naming of colors

is similar to the naming of children

colors name days and remain unnamed

casting shadows over all our conversations

how we choose our words

whether we avert our eyes

and often days are gray,

when they should be grey sea days

of my longing and aching – speaking

with rhythm

salt on my lip which

the wind dries

sea days remind me of the

Welsh grey blue green changing of the seasons

eyes of my wife

which call me to a heritage that is not my own,

eyes that speak terribly of love

divine neither of us can sound,

though the mountains should tremble at our surging

there are days when I run headlong into new words

and they break me open

tearing my heart fourteen times

cold grey rain at Laguna Beach at your

wedding slips of the seals’ oily skin

I am soaked -

by mud of colors I have named

speak to me in the language of moment

phrases that twist my tongue which I cannot learn

‘less I am taught one by one

starting with salt stinging my eyes

battering my rods with a brilliant array and speed and size

giving me five, eight, ten more senses until I

can pronounce the joy color of wind making my

skin leather and my heart

no longer just moving blood in my veins

but beating in a solid world of light

It is raining...

Hi. I am Jonathan Capp. Have we met?

Actually, I am about to post a post. Here I am, posting a post. I am the lone member of the Accommo team working today (and yesterday for that matter), and I decided to clean Cedar Lodge. Check that one off the list. My next task: begin to think about how to help someone else do my job. Yep. Anne and I are moving back to the homeland in June. Anne is going to attend the University of Colorado at Denver to get a teaching certificate, and I am going to work.

So I have spent enough time thinking about what our life is going to be like in Denver, and I have come up with very little. I do know that God knows where we are going to live, where we are going to work, who our new friends will be, and what part of what [lower-case] body we will be. If I am just supposed to trust about my future, then it is time to help out somebody else's future.

I can't decide what rule number one is. It is either "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today" or "Never serve yourself first, ever." Sometimes they are the same rule, I suppose; most times I prefer the first to the second, and I, much too often, I follow neither. The other first rule might be "the Lord delights in my honest offerings" followed quickly by "with God all things are possible."

I suppose these rules might work for anyone, as long as you are willing to live whole-heartedly. I'm trying. Jesus loves me.

until then