in the kingdom...

There is no right or wrong. There is only obedience.

difficulties in disfunction

Family life is a difficult life because we...

a.)cannot choose our families
b.)have to love them
c.)have to put up with them
d.)feel connected even when they hurt us and we desire to feel disconnected.

all of this and we can't even run away.

Perhaps it is only difficult for those of us who come from broken families.

Nevertheless, we love our families, we carry on and we realize that everyone of us is a broken individual, unconditionally loved. So the next time love maternally falls short, rise to the challenge to love harder, to love stronger and to love unconditionally as our Lord first showed us.

And if all else fails, get married and have kids of your own, then make your own rules.

Merry Christmas Mom, I love you!

of hello and goodbye

It dawned on me the other day, as I was preparing to leave California behind for the next 10 months, that I am more content with leaving a place then I am with arriving. I reflected back to my arrival on campus this past fall and how discontent I was. I think of where I am going and I am satisfied once again.
And now I have arrived and I find myself without knowing where I will sleep tomorrow night, if I will eat, or what the next days adventures will bring me and I am content.
It is most difficult for me to leave behind my friends. Especially those who are dear to my heart (you know who you are). You are the church, my fellow believers, those who wrestle through the human condition with me and emerge only a little bit wiser than before. I have been saying goodbye to you for as long as I can remember, and now I must do it once more.
Many people ask me if traveling so often ever begins to wear on me. The answer is yes, and no. After a while, you begin to adapt to the solitude. It only becomes more difficult when attempting to make new friends realizing from the beginning, you are saying goodbye.

under the overpass

Under the Overpass

A relativly simple book, Under the Overpass does not disapoint.
A young student fom Westmont College hears a sermon that will change his life. After he contemplates all the lost and broken people he drove past on the way to hear that sermon, he decides to do something about it.
That something takes Mike to the streets with his friend Sam on an adventure that will chill you to the bone.
Five cities in five months; Denver, Washington D.C., Portland, San Fransico, Phoenix and San Diego. These courageous youth bring insight on what it means to be homeless, even more insightful is the response of the Church.
If you have ever looked down upon a homeless person, helped one or have been homeless yourself, this book will be both encouraging and convicting.

Under the Overpass
Mike Yankoski
Multnomah 2005
$11.99

the art of limping

After returning from Africa in the summer of 2005, I was asked by many people why I stopped blogging. Please accept this as one part explanation, one part apology and two parts introduction.

What is a blog but a creative way to vomit opinions to a listening audience, however small it may be? Perhaps to many, blogging is a way to escape the monotony of meaningless conversation, entering the ethereal consciousness of the literary monologue.

Sinner, Saint, Light and Paint was fun, but I quickly became frustrated because I could not communicate anything of significance. What I communicated only showed itself to be a poor reflection of popular culture, not a genuine voice.

I want something more, I want to write with meaning, to stand up for those whose verbal legs are broken. I want to share the stories of my travels, from small rustic villages in Uganda, to the slums of Cuba, to the lonely streets I walk in downtown Los Angeles

Why do I blog, and why have I created "to walk with a limp?” In my travels I have been fortunate enough to witness the misfortune of others. I believe that it is my responsibility to share the story of the broken, just as hearing their story has broken me. How else are we to have compassion for the hurting world around us if we do not share in their journey, see their faces or interact in some other small way? How are we to walk with the broken, if we ourselves cannot even walk with a limp?