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This past week, I turned 30.  Thirrrrrty.  No longer do I find myself attached to the huge number of ministries and books geared towards the “20-somethings” (although being honest, I haven’t found most of them speaking to my life for a while).  The funny “expected” zings and jokes about age aside, I’m actually doing fine.  I’ve accomplished quite a bit with these 30 years.  I’m actually afraid I’ve set the bar a bit to high for my next 30 years, but remain confident they will still surpass the past. 🙂  But as old as I’m getting, I still have a problem:

I. Don’t. Like. Vegetables.

It’s not that I can’t eat them.  It used to be even the slightest hint of broccoli in the air could make me gag like a 5 year old with the dentists’ hand in his mouth.  But I’m proud to say I’ve grown the capacity to put just about anything in my mouth, and chew, and swallow.  Especially as a parent now, I know my kids need to eat them, and want to set a good example.  But I have yet to develop any sort of desire to voluntarily scoop anything grown from the ground on my plate, given the choice.

I remember growing up, going to a buffet once in a while.  They give you a giant plate, and you look over at the yards and yards of food ready for the taking.  It’s pretty dang heavenly.  I have no struggles finding things to fill my plate, usually for several trips.  But what always confused me, were people who would use up space on their plates with cole slaw, beans, cauliflower, beans, peas, beans, and other various plants.  I can understand being polite when your mom (or wife) has cooked an incredible meal, you grab a bit of everything (usually, unless no one is watching), and eat it.  But when you’re at a buffet?  That means these people must actually ENJOY the flavor/texture of these plants!!

I know at this point, some of you are probably thinking: “Oh, he hasn’t had good vegetables.” or “He hasn’t had fresh, organic, or raw enough vegetables.”  Or possibly even, “He should try my dish, ________”.  Feel free to share recipes.  But I’m pretty sure I’ve tasted incredible, fresh, organic, and raw vegetables.  But even the most delicious vegetable experience I can think of (a couple do actually come to mind), if I were to choose between that and another slice of pizza – give me the pizza.

So the question I have is: Do you have a hankering for the green stuff?  Or do you eat it simply because you know your body needs it?  Is it an acquired taste, like coffee?  I wonder if I dared myself to become a vegetarian for a period of time, that might increase my appreciation/taste for plants.  But there’s also the chance I could come back a raging carnivore…

 

In the final chapter of my book, I talk about God making us in His image – as creative beings. Along those lines, a poem that came from a combination of reading a great book on the history of Heaven, and some time in prayer:

I was captured late one evening, watching Leno with my wife.
Feeling fine, and looking forward to his guest.
I remember getting lost in admiration as she yawned,
and I knew my wife was needing to get some rest.

I would never again tell her, that I was filled with love,
For her presence, for her comfort, and her heart.
As I was captured somewhere else, no moments to look back-
No telling her that I was to depart.

But sadness wasn’t pressing in on me, no mourning tears in my eyes.
The rush of “other-ness” was close at hand.
In all my years of praying, reading scripture, and imagining,
Nothing prepared me for how I left this land.

From dreaming into consciousness – I was born again, again.
Like going underwater, or emerging from a tent.
From darkness into light, and from parched land into flooded-
I didn’t so much as “go” as I was “sent”.

The atmosphere was buzzing like I had never seen,
My eyes struggled to bring images into sight.
Slowly from the haze, clouded warmth, and all the “other”,
There began to make some sense of overwhelming light.

I was being led by someone, who knew my name quite well.
I tried to look, but they moved like rushing wind.
In an instant, I felt assured of forgiveness-
Granted release and pardon for my sins.

We arrived somewhere I’d never seen in all my years of thinking,
Of dreaming and of wondering what comes next-
Surrounded by what I somehow knew were 72 virgins,
In the midst of a giant gardening complex.

He saw my confused and surprised facial expression, as I took in my surroundings
I was forced to change position into sitting.
I saw a grin sneak up upon his face,
He pulled my hand with a wink, and said, “I’m only kidding!”

In an instant we were surrounded by a giant grassy field,
Guitar was strumming somewhere distantly.
I was guided to top of the largest mountain around,
And at the top, a simple Bodhi Tree.

But once again, he saw my face had not expected this
He asked me to describe what I was thinking.
I found myself at a loss for words, I looked back and saw Him smile,
As the tree and the mountains started shrinking.

The physical world I was used to began to disappear from sight,
And I wondered what might still remain in store.
When suddenly we were reclined sipping Arnold Palmers
As the ocean waves crashed upon the shore.

“Is this Heaven?” I asked him. First, He took a sip,
And looked over his sunglasses silently.
He gestured up the beach at my ancestors lounging
As a sailboat passed us by He said, “You tell me.”

“I guess I didn’t know what to expect exactly”
I said to him not knowing what to say.
“I just figured as long as I was in your presence
Whatever that was like, I’d want to stay.”

He nodded his approval, like he’d heard it all before,
And grabbed my hand gently one more time-
We ascended and ascended until my head was spinning wildly,
And I didn’t think there was much more we could climb.

He sat me down upon a cloud, the curb of golden highways-
Angels strumming in the distant shining sky.
I looked to see a mansion with my nameplate on the mailbox,
He looked at me, as if expecting a reply.

I wept without preparing, I worshiped at his feet.
I sang every song that I had ever heard.
At several points I thought of telling him what I was thinking,
But every time I found myself absurd.

Finally when time had passed, he gently dried my tears,
And gave me time to rest my tired eyes.
Letting go of what I wanted to say, I found some words,
And waiting for me to speak, he helped me rise…

“I have a lot of things” I said, “That I think Heaven should be,
Most come from books, and pictures and stories told.
Still some are things that I want to experience, but now that I’m here,
I’m not sure that I’m buying what I’ve been sold.”

He flashed a loving smile at me, as a Father would his child
With a look that assured me I was up to the task.
As I looked at Him, all I could say was “What did you have planned?”
His smile growing large, he said, “I’m glad you asked…”

1 Corinthians 2:9 “However, as it is written: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him”

In the final chapter of my book, I talk about God making us in His image – as creative beings. Along those lines, a poem that came from a combination of reading a great book on the history of Heaven, and some time in prayer:

I was captured late one evening, watching Leno with my wife.
Feeling fine, and looking forward to his guest.
I remember getting lost in admiration as she yawned,
and I knew my wife was needing to get some rest.

I would never again tell her, that I was filled with love,
For her presence, for her comfort, and her heart.
As I was captured somewhere else, no moments to look back-
No telling her that I was to depart.

But sadness wasn’t pressing in on me, no mourning tears in my eyes.
The rush of “other-ness” was close at hand.
In all my years of praying, reading scripture, and imagining,
Nothing prepared me for how I left this land.

From dreaming into consciousness – I was born again, again.
Like going underwater, or emerging from a tent.
From darkness into light, and from parched land into flooded-
I didn’t so much as “go” as I was “sent”.

The atmosphere was buzzing like I had never seen,
My eyes struggled to bring images into sight.
Slowly from the haze, clouded warmth, and all the “other”,
There began to make some sense of overwhelming light.

I was being led by someone, who knew my name quite well.
I tried to look, but they moved like rushing wind.
In an instant, I felt assured of forgiveness-
Granted release and pardon for my sins.

We arrived somewhere I’d never seen in all my years of thinking,
Of dreaming and of wondering what comes next-
Surrounded by what I somehow knew were 72 virgins,
In the midst of a giant gardening complex.

He saw my confused and surprised facial expression, as I took in my surroundings
I was forced to change position into sitting.
I saw a grin sneak up upon his face,
He pulled my hand with a wink, and said, “I’m only kidding!”

In an instant we were surrounded by a giant grassy field,
Guitar was strumming somewhere distantly.
I was guided to top of the largest mountain around,
And at the top, a simple Bodhi Tree.

But once again, he saw my face had not expected this
He asked me to describe what I was thinking.
I found myself at a loss for words, I looked back and saw Him smile,
As the tree and the mountains started shrinking.

The physical world I was used to began to disappear from sight,
And I wondered what might still remain in store.
When suddenly we were reclined sipping Arnold Palmers
As the ocean waves crashed upon the shore.

“Is this Heaven?” I asked him. First, He took a sip,
And looked over his sunglasses silently.
He gestured up the beach at my ancestors lounging
As a sailboat passed us by He said, “You tell me.”

“I guess I didn’t know what to expect exactly”
I said to him not knowing what to say.
“I just figured as long as I was in your presence
Whatever that was like, I’d want to stay.”

He nodded his approval, like he’d heard it all before,
And grabbed my hand gently one more time-
We ascended and ascended until my head was spinning wildly,
And I didn’t think there was much more we could climb.

He sat me down upon a cloud, the curb of golden highways-
Angels strumming in the distant shining sky.
I looked to see a mansion with my nameplate on the mailbox,
He looked at me, as if expecting a reply.

I wept without preparing, I worshiped at his feet.
I sang every song that I had ever heard.
At several points I thought of telling him what I was thinking,
But every time I found myself absurd.

Finally when time had passed, he gently dried my tears,
And gave me time to rest my tired eyes.
Letting go of what I wanted to say, I found some words,
And waiting for me to speak, he helped me rise…

“I have a lot of things” I said, “That I think Heaven should be,
Most come from books, and pictures and stories told.
Still some are things that I want to experience, but now that I’m here,
I’m not sure that I’m buying what I’ve been sold.”

He flashed a loving smile at me, as a Father would his child
With a look that assured me I was up to the task.
As I looked at Him, all I could say was “What did you have planned?”
His smile growing large, he said, “I’m glad you asked…”

1 Corinthians 2:9 “However, as it is written: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him”