The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly...

Well, I made it to france without any problems, except that I don't know the language here. But that will come with a lot of hard work, time and prayer. Just the other day I decided to go out and try to speak the few things that Valerie had begun to teach me. Sentences like, "Hello, my name is Mike. What's your name? I am American, but I live here in France. I live in the white castle. I learn French from my fiancée Valerie." Armed with my books and freshly learned phrases, I headed outside into the cold just to find myself wandering the streets and being stared at, mostly. I was looking for a place of encounters. A place where people might be relaxing and talking, letting down their guard just enough to let a practically mute American try to practice his french with them. As it turns out, people don't really go out when it's cold outside, which is pretty much year round here in Thumeries. This leads to a few logical conclusions. First, as valerie has pointed out, people around here have a lot of children. I guess if you can't do anything outside because of the rain and cold, then there is only so much you can do inside before you get bored and fall back on one of the few things that humans have always been good at--making babies. Second, when you try to stop and talk with people on the street when it's cold out, they usually aren't too interested in you. And who can blame them with what they're going home to. Third, if you want to talk to people in a cold place, it's best to go somewhere that is not just public, but public and warm.

So, I decided to try my luck in an authentic French Café. I know what you are envisioning...waiters wearing funny hats, every man with a thin little handlebar mustache, beautiful women, couples reading poetry together, someone peeing on the wall outside...but forgot all of that, because that's not at all what it was like. Maybe in Paris, but not here in the village. This is a working man's area, for real men. Entering the café, I sidled up at the bar next to a sharp looking blond guy, clearly on his break from some kind of construction job. Everyone was staring at the foreigner (me), waiting for his next move. It was like a spaghetti western. I was the stranger who had walked into a room full of suspicious and distrustful eyes, and as the camera zoomed in tight on my squinting eyes and those of the bartender, I said "One coffee" in the perfect french that only my fiancée could teach. The tension immediately broke as the bartender said, "Ha! Listen to his accent he's English!" It was obvious that they were talking about me for awhile, and I imagine more obvious that I was a little uncomfortable about it, since I choked and forgot how to say everything else except 'hello', 'thank you', and 'one coffee', so the blond guy smiled and stuck out his hand to shake mine.

I felt so uncomfortable that I decided to retreat back to the castle. Chugging my shot of espresso and stuffing the little complimentary chocolate that came with it, I exited the café, vowing to come back and conquer it another day. It is amazing how much of our well being, or at least our sense of well being, rests in the ability to communicate. Sure, I feel a little uncomfortable in any public place, even in my hometown, but what really made me uncomfortable was not being able to speak. Now I know why babies cry so much--they can't say anything. I'm sure I'll cry a few times these next years while I'm learning to speak too.

I Feel Cool...

...and a little nervous. As the assistant pastor at my church put it yesterday, "a weird mix of excitement and fear, that sounds about right." Yes, I'm in the airport right now waiting for the plane that will move me to France (pun intended). So right now I feel pretty hip, cool, and technology savvy, because I'm one of the guys who is blogging while in the airport. But I'm kind of nervous because I'm MOVING to France. Wow. Moving. With plans of staying for a long time. Scary as it is, especially for closet Francophobes, I'm really excited about this next phase of my life. Starting a family. Learning a language. Learning a culture. Growing up...a little.

And joining the cool guy group that blogs from the airport. See you in France.

Today, I'm thankful for tomorrow.

Re-entry observations

I like to watch people. It's been a habit of mine since I started to feel like everyone was always watching me. People are interesting. They do the weirdest things. They wear the weirdest clothes. They each react differently to the same situation. They're fun to watch.

I carried this people watching habit with me to Spain 18 months ago, and at first I was amazed at all the differences from America. Not too long after, Spanish practices began to feel and look normal, and I started to notice that people in Spain are just as weird as in America. But I never thought that America would ever be unfamiliar to me.

So, here are some things that I've had to begin readjusting to while I'm back, even though I'm leaving again in ten days.

While riding from the Philadelphia airport to a friend's house where I stayed my first few days back, I was astonished at the number of Evangelical churches on every block. Coming from a place where not being catholic is equivalent to being in a cult (join us, its bliisss...), it looked like picking a church in america was like deciding which ice cream to buy, or which restaurant to eat in. "Last time we went to the Starbucks on 34th street, but they didn't give me enough foam in my latte, let's try the one across the street today." To say it again, it was really odd to pass 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th Baptist Church of Philadelphia all on the same block. And they are probably all related to one another. As my pastor here in Laramie says, "There are no such thing as Baptist church splits, only church plants."

When I met new people after arriving, they all stood really far away. I felt like my voice hurt from shouting. I knew that they wouldn't be able to decipher the words, but if they could just hear the distant murmur of my voice and understand that I was at least trying to communicate with them across the chasm that separated us, it would be a productive conversation. And meeting a girl was even more shocking. Please, keep in mind that when I went to Spain, I hated people touching me, and wanted them to stand as far away from me as possible. So, upon reentering America, I was completely shocked the first time I was introduced to a new girl and she extended her hand, indicating that she wanted a handshake, and not a kiss on each cheek. It was the most unattractive and manly thing I could imagine a girl doing, outside of giving me a high five or admitting that girls also go number two.

Last, I'll share with you about line etiquette. In Spain, you're lucky if the person working in a store actually helps you when you walk in. You know that God is with you when they just keep talking on the phone with their boyfriend while helping you. But most of the time you wait a few minutes until they semi-shout, "what do you want?" It's sort of like the episode of Seinfeld with the soup Nazi. You're scared to death and after they manhandle you for a few minutes, you exit apologetically with whatever it is you bought. But not so here in America, and especially in Wyoming. I was in Coal Creek Coffee, standing in a good sized line, when the guy behind me started talking to me. What is he doing? Why is he talking to me? I don't even know him. Then I get to the cash register to order, and the girl working starts to chit chat with me. "Please stop! Treat me bad! Swear at me, just don't be nice to me! I only wanted a coffee!!"

Anyway, a little view into the world of someone readjusting to life in a very polite culture after living in Spain. America is awesome and so is Spain, and I'm sure every other culture once you begin to understand where they are coming from.

Today I'm thankful for the ten days that separate me from Valerie. I guess I'm not so much thankful for the days themselves as I am that yesterday there were eleven and tomorrow there will only be nine.

Blessings.

Luv is a Verb

It's raining. In a place where they are living in a time of drought, that is usually a good thing. But not here, not now. Why? Because I'm selfish and I want to go home and go to bed, but I can't. It's raining and I don't have an umbrella with me. So, I might as well update the old blog and let the world know what has been going through my head. Prepare to have your mind blown.

If you remember, I've been thinking a lot about God's love since arriving here in Spain a little over a year ago (see this post). And little by little, He has been revealing how much He really does love me. This has caused me to change not only how I interact with people, but also how I interact with God Himself. The result--healing in relationships that needed it, deeper intimacy in my fellowship with God, and realizing that even while I'm trying to love people I often have wrong motives. This has made me ask myself what is so special or different about God's love?

I'm beginning to think that the answer is in its simplicity. God loves us. Period. There is no "God loves me because...", or, "God loves me so that I...". He just loves us. Now, I know that it is a little more complicated than this, but bear with me. I'm trying to make a point, not make it look like we are more important and the center of God's universe. God is the center of God's universe, and rightly so--He is the only one of His kind (obviously), and the only one worthy of receiving all of the glory, honor, and praise. He has saved us for "...the praise of HIS glorious grace" (Eph 1:6), and we are just a part of His plan to "...unite all things in HIM, things in heaven and things on earth." (Eph 1:10)

So, back to the subject at hand, the simplicity of God's love. What do I mean by simplicity? I mean that God's love is not tainted by any other motivation than love itself. As I have been learning about God's love, I have necessarily been moved to try and grow in my love toward others. But recently I've noticed that almost all of the time I have some reason why I'm loving whoever it is that I'm trying to love. If it is someone who bugs me, I say to myself, "Self, God wants you to love this person even though they are doing X that bothers you. So, the best way to get this person to change and modify their behavior to make me happy is to love them." I "love" them, and curiously, much of the time they don't change. Is this how God loves me? Is He only interested in manipulating me into obedience?

I think not. Enter Psalm 103.

He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

God doesn't treat us the way we deserve. In fact, if we are covered by Christ's righteousness, He forgets our sins, He removes them from us. He doesn't look at us the way we actually are, but the way we should be. I try to do this as well, but in my human mind it usually is a matter of potential. I look at someone's sin and say, "I'm not going to treat you according to your sin. I see your potential for good and am willing to do whatever it takes, even hurt you, to help you grow." It sounds noble and good, right? But I don't think it is. God doesn't look at us like a public service project. He isn't a social worker. Yes, He sees our sin, and yes, He wants it to go away, but that doesn't change how He loves us. "As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him."

We are His children and He knows we are weak and fail often. But he still loves us. "He remembers that we are dust." I'm trying to learn to not view people as projects, even as I look at my own life. Especially as I look at my own life. If by some miracle I am becoming more holy, even though God is just loving me as I am, maybe I should be able to trust Him to do the same with others. I don't need to fix them--just love them. God can do the fixing His way. I'm just trying to learn to imitate Him.

Now for the hard part: putting the theory into practice.

God help me, please.

New News

I have a girlfriend. Her name is Valerie.

He is speaking to us, we should be listening

Here is recent journal entry. As you will be able to tell, I have been thinking a lot about creation, and how God is not just telling us that He exists, but that He is a person and wants to be in a relationship with us. Sounds cliché, and probably is, but it is what I have been learning. Here it goes:

God is constantly talking to us. "The heavens declare the glory of God..." psalm 19; "His glory covers all the earth..." some other psalm; "All creation groans..." Romans 8; "If they do not praise me, then the rocks themselves would cry out..." Jesus in the triumphal entry.

The noise of the city is suffocating me. I long to be in Gods )I dont know how to make an apostrophe on this keyboard...or both parentheses) creation, just to hear what He is saying through it. The people here are too caught up in development to listen to it. They are still too young and immature in the process of modernization to have learned that having whatever you want doesnt make you happy. But someday they will.

...When we feel the suns rays beaming down on us, it is gods love that warms us, not the suns heat. When we wake up to a world freshly covered in the white and purity of a snow that only a winters night produces, it is not the cold that sends us a sharp chill, but the recognition of Gods holiness and our sin. The vast expanse of stars and moon remind us of our seeming insignificance, yet their light cuts through the darkness to say, "you are uniquely made, and important." The thunder and lightning of Gods justice and wrath make way for the tears of mercy He sheds, as the rain calls us back to Him and the new life that He offers.

Yes, all creation is proclaiming His praise and inviting us to join in. How I long to feel the touch of the garments with which He clothes the lilies, and sing the praise of His provision along with the sparrows, but for now I will have to settle for the small patch of green that lies in front of this café. The cars and buildings and pollution are screaming with all their might, but the rays of His love warm me amidst the noise. And they will suffice until I can take up a handful of the dark, moist earth in my hand, and, like Thomas, feel and believe.

Sorry for the two month hiatus. Today I am thankful for...eveything.

TestaMints and Soul Surgery

Sorry for the gaps between posts, but things have been crazy here. But as they say, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." I don't know who "they" are, but I'm hoping that they are right, or else I'm writing this for myself, which still wouldn't be all that bad.

What's new here in Spain? So glad you asked. God is doing a pretty good job at showing me my sin and all its subtleties in deception. It is exactly what I have been praying for, and even though it hurts a lot, I'm thankful for it. As John Hutch preached at my church before I came to Spain, when we see ourselves as small, we necesarily see God as big. Unfortunately, I tend toward the opposite view, seeing myself as big and God as small. When I am the lord of my life, all my problems and frustrations overwhelm me because I can't fix them, and I see God as powerless, trapped in His ivory tower in heaven, unable to come to my help. But when I make a conscious effort to view myself, my life, my problems, etc...in the way that God sees them, He becomes my all powerful Savior, who is with me at all times and working for my good in all things. With this mindset, God is REAL. The way He tells us He is in His word, not the way my sinful flesh tells me He is.

The most difficult part in all this is seeing how deep my sin actually runs. Especially my sin of self-sufficiency. The Lord has been constantly reminding me of how little I depend on His wisdom, guidance, presence, and grace to live my life. I'm so often unsatisfied because I seek satisfaction in God's gifts instead of in Him as the giver. Anyway, I am seeing that sin taints everything I do, and asking God to show me this fact has opened me up the way a medieval torture chamber would...except that God is good. He is doing it surgically, and although it hurts, it is the best thing for me. As Derek Webb puts it in a song of his, "When what is true looks more like a knife, it looks like You're killing me, but You're saving my life."

And so I continue to pray that God would take every ounce of self-love and self-suffieciency out of my life, so that I might love and worship Him above myself. It hurts to watch Him open me up and start taking so much out, but I trust Him to be the Master Surgeon, who is doing exactly what it takes to save my life. As Jesus said, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it."

Also, while I was in Marrakech this past weekend (very interesting place, more to come later) we were all joking about how Christians can put a Bible verse on anything and get other Christians to buy it. Take TestaMints, for example. Why should I buy a package of TestaMints when I can buy Certs for a lot less money? And I don't have to drive to the Bible Superstore to get them either. Anyway, my idea was to market Christian deodorant with the slogan--"Let the Gospel be offensive, not your odor!" Throw a verse on there about your life being a sweet smelling sacrifice unto the Lord and you could make millions.

But if you like TestaMints and stuff like that, please don't be offended. I'm glad your breath smells great, it's just that I feel there are better ways for you to spend your money.

I will leave you with a verse from Psalm 70 that I read this weekend.

"Yet I am poor and needy;
come quickly to me, O God.
You are my help and my deliverer;
O LORD, do not delay."
--Psalm 70:5

Amen. And He will come to our aid.

Worldview

So last week was the last of my Bible classes, and it was very interesting. We were told by our teacher, "Imagine a Martian asks you, 'What is a tree?', what is your definition?" Wondering where he was going with this, everybody scribbled down something along the lines of "a tree is type of plant that has roots, a trunk, branches and leaves." But I couldn't write anything. The same definition came to my mind, but I was prevented from writing anything by a question of my own, namely, "A Martian doesn't know what a tree is, so how is it possible to describe what roots, a trunk, branches, and leaves are?" You could define each of those individual traits, but then how do you define the traits of the traits, and so on until you pass out from thinking too much. Then, our teacher brought in a bunch of shrubs and stuff, and played Martian's Advocate--"Is this a tree? It has roots, a wooden trunk, branches and leaves." When someone in the class would say that it wasn't a tree, the teacher asked why it wasn't. And it's true, our definitions lacked something. They were difintions for people who already knew what trees were.

On top of that, almost everybody drew a picture of the same type of tree, your average apple tree. I've never even seen an apple tree, but that's what I drew. Mine even had apples in it. Of course, Molly drew a palm tree. But I'm sure if they had apple trees at the beach, that's what she would have drawn.

So, what was the point? I'll answer the way my teacher did: "What's the point? Well, you see, a tree is...(bell clanging) well, it's time for your break." Just kidding, there was a real point, but I'm going to connect it to the next section of the course. Each culture has it's own way of looking at the world. When I, being from the West (culturally, not geographically), try to tell someone from the East why I'm going to put my parents in a retirement home (just kidding Mom and Dad), it is like explaining a tree to a Martian. They have no idea what it looks like to not take care of your parents/grandparents yourself. They will never understand it. Unless...

...you can find a way to communicate it to them. The best ways to accomplish this, immerse yourself in their language, culture, etc., until you begin to understand life the way they do. Then you can explain to them why you would abandon your parents in terms they can understand.

Jesus did something like this when he would talk with the religious people of his day. They had their own definition of what sin was, but he didn't correct them by saying that their definition was wrong and give them another definition, he did it through stories and analogies that SHOWED them what sin was. For example, when the rich young ruler told him "I've kept all the commandments since my youth," Jesus said, "This one thing you lack, go and sell all your belongings and give them to the poor." He wasn't telling the rich young ruler to obey THIS law and he would be saved, he was telling the rich young ruler that he hadn't really kept the law in the way he had thought. It is not disobedience that is a sin, but sin causes disobedience. Of course, I've lost all ability to think and write clearly, so it isn't airtight, but you get the picture...Jesus used every means possible to communicate sin as a concept, not just a list of things you shouldn't do.

Anyway, I hope all is well wherever you are.

Today I'm thankful for the renewal that comes from being out of the city for three weeks with a bunch of latinos and God. It was awesome.

Coffee...good. Keep...awake...long time.

Last week I attended the first of what will be three weeks of Bible classes, and it was awesome. Everything was in Spanish and learned a lot. For the first couple of days I understood about 90% of what was said, but that percentage, along with the hours I slept, dropped every day thereafter. Let's just say that I consumed more coffee in the last week than the previous 26 years. Did I mention that I learned a lot, too?

Oh yeah, and there was a pool.

And I played soccer for the second, third, and fourth times in my life.

This afternoon I had an interesting conversation with a very eccentric Jehovah's Witness. I had just told my friend JJ that I was disappointed because I still felt like I can't really communicate who I am in Spanish--you know heart stuff--when this guy approached us and started telling us these crazy "bible" stories. JJ has known him for quite awhile, but I just met him for the first time. It was fun to have a spirited conversation with him in Spanish and I hope to talk with him again sometime.

But I still feel like my spanish needs to improve a butt-load.

Well, it's time to call the Padres (my family, not the baseball team) so I better bid you all farewell.

Today I'm thankful that my Dad sent me his phone number so I can call him. I'm starting to forget some things that I never thougth were possible.

Fashion Faux Pais, Part III

Since my arrival in Spain, I have been compiling a series of observations regarding fashion which I am calling, "Fashion Faux Pais." The first two articles in the series can be found here and here. Interest has been expressed in publishing them as an editorial in Vogue Spain this fall, but I'm not sure if I want to prostitute my observations like that. Here is Part III.

About a month ago, while I was braving the mid-day heat, I saw what appeared to be a wrestling singlet walking down the street. At first, I had serious doubts as to whether or not my eyes were playing tricks on me. I mean, who in their right mind would dare to walk the streets in a singlet? it's just common sense. Strike One. Unfortunately, common sense wasn't the only natural law to be shattered in the moments that followed. On top of that, the person had long hair, and, upon further inspection, was proven to be of the female gender. Strike Two. And thirdly, the singlet was an animal print. Ouch!! Strike Three. Ladies, please refrain from wearing your tiger-striped wrestling singlet in public. You should know better...it's a lose-lose situation.

My second observation doesn't come from any specific event, but is broader in scope. It deals with sexism within street fashion. The heat in Andalucia can be unbearable, and anybody and everybody will do anything to escape it's clutches. Common measures taken by both men and women alike: Staying indoors during the hottest parts of the day, drinking plenty of fluids, walking through department stores that are climate controlled. These are great remedies, but the female has one tremendous advantage over a man. She can take off practically all her clothing without being stared at (in the "you're weird" way, at least), mocked, or judged. I'm certain that I can't say the same for myself. If I walked around Granada as they do, with only 3.7% of my body covered, I would most definitely garner unwanted attention (yes, in the "you're weird" way). And not a few people would be nauseated, if not blinded.

So, I'm calling out the women of Granada by way of protest. Either you start wearing more clothes, or we will start wearing less. Do not be mistaken. These aren't empty threats, and failure to comply will only result in your own personal suffering and that of many innocent tourists. Sometime in the future I will declare a M.A.S.S. (March Against Sexism in Style) manifestation for all men who have had their brows beaten by the merciless sun of inequality around which the fashion industry revolves.


Sweaty men of the world unite!!!

MoroccoMuseMath

Almost a month between posts. What this proves is that when you don't have as much access to the internet, you use it a lot less frequently. Who would have thought? Anyway, here are a few pictures from this summer.

This is a dead goldfish inside a fountain in the Alhambra.



Chef Chouen, Morocco. Everything is painted blue. Our guide said that it is to keep the flies away. "The blue, it confuses them," he told us. Through some independent research at his child's birthday party, singer-songwriter Shaun Groves agrees.




Chef Chouen, from a distance. We hiked the short distance to a mosque that the Spanish built. It was never used because it was built facing the wrong direction. This picture is taken from that trail.



The bigger white building in the foreground is the tomb of what is basically a Sufi saint. All the small white rectangles surrounding the tomb are the graves of people who are buried near the saint to gain God's favor. They are buried face up and facing East, so that they are ready for the resurrection.



The Laramie river. Not in Spain or Morocco. Wyoming.


Today I'm thankful for catching up on some email, meeting with Feli (one of my language exchanges), and listening to the Mute Math and Muse albums I downloaded yesterday. Music is awesome.

Love, Love, Love

Quite a while ago, I asked you all a question: How do you know that God loves you? The responses to this question were so underwhelmingly few that I have come to the conclusion that God doesn't love any of you. Just kidding. I received some great responses that were very encouraging. One friend, who is the Pastor of a small church in Hick, Indiana (not the real name), said that he knows of God's love because he has been commisioned to preach the Gospel. Another said that when she sees the moon she knows that God loves her. Someone even sent me a list of fifty, that's right, fifty reasons why she knows that God loves her.

But now you ask me, "Why, Mike Gorski, did you pose this question?" Well, since I know that you have all been losing sleep over it, and your relief is at my disposal, here is my response.

I often question that He does. Very often.

This all came up while I was reading Don Miller's book "Blue Like Jazz" a few months ago. In one of the sentences in one of the paragraphs in one of the chapters, he basically says that you can't love other people until you learn that God loves you. I won't go into all the reasons why I think this is true, but I think it is perfectly accurate. Anyway, I started to think, and ended up asking myself if I believe that God loves me. And the answer? Sort of.

In an abstract sense, I have no doubt that God loves me. For all the reasons people sent me, for the innumerable times it is mentioned in Scripture, I know it's true. But why do I struggle to BELIEVE these truths? Answer--I want to suffer for my sin. I know that I can't pay for my sin, only Christ's blood can do that. I'm not trying to do good works in order to be saved, it is impossible. For that very reason I want to suffer. God has done what no man could--He has taken His enemies, and, through His love, made them His children. But I feel guilty that He ever had to reconcile me to Himself.

Imagine a feast, prepared by a Father for his children. The food is of unmatched quality, but even more important, it is seasoned with a love that has no rival. They all gather to eat, but one of the children refuses to sit at the table with the others. He refuses to eat anything but the scraps that are going to be thrown away. He feels this way because he was adopted, rescued from the worst conditions imaginable, where he had no hope, no dreams, no possibilities. He was already dead, it's just that his body was catching up to the truth. Then, all of a sudden, he was adopted. It was his Father who saved him, and who tenderly summons him to the table at this very moment. The child still refuses to eat. In his eyes, the Father shouldn't have had to rescue him in the first place, and now he feels like a burden. But all of his siblings are adopted as well, and the Father continues to affectionately call him his son and invite him to join in the feast.

His name is Mike Gorski.

God still fervently pursues him.

And His love will never fail.

How Do You Know That God Loves You?

A question for YOU:

How do you know that God loves you?

Examples.

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written 'For your sake we are being killed all the day long, we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." --Romans 8:35-39

Or, "We have asked to see Your face and noticed nothing, but a well-timed, honest smile from a friend."--The Normals

I would love to hear from you all on this, either through comments or emails. Answers can come from anything.



Today I'm thankful for Shandy, which cools me down when it's 108 degrees out at 6pm.

I can't believe I drank the whole thing!

Actually, I can, because I love anything chocolate.

Before.


During.


After.


Enough said.

And today I'm thankful for the renewal that God brought me through the Granada Prayer Conference.

...These are a few of my favorite hymns...

Julie Andrews was once in a musical called "The Sound of Music." You may have heard of it. It is a story of love, and singing, and mountains, and nannying, and nuns, and Nazis--really, it contains every topic imaginable. Except monkeys on rollerskates, which definitely would have added another dimension to the story. Especially if these monkeys smoked and drank, and came from the wrong side of the tracks, but had a redemptive encounter with the famous singing Von Trapp family, who then recruited the monkeys to help keep the Nazis out of beautiful Austria. Supposedly, one chimpanzee has the strength of ten men, and on roller skates they could easily double their speed.

I digress.

Anyway, I basically wrote the song, "My Favorite Things." Oscar Hammerstein didn't know it at the time, but he was pre-plagiarizing all the lyrics from my pre-prenatal self. Think about it. "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens; Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens." And, "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes; Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes; Silver white winters that melt into springs; These are a few of my favorite things." I have seen a rose. I had a cat at home, and I even kind of miss her. Don't even get me started on mittens. And girls? Who doesn't like girls. I know I do.

But for whatever reason, the line, "These are a few of my favorite things", just reminded me of some of the greatest verses from my favorite hymns. I have a soft spot in my heart for hymns. While others may cringe at the somewhat archaic language, I embrace it. Hymns speak of the deepest truths of the Christian faith in the most beautiful and poetic ways, while many modern songs communicate through vulgar expressions that make it sound like God is your girlfriend and you're just saying a bunch of cliché 'I love yous' in the hopes of making out. Yes, I'm overexaggerating. Most modern worship songs aren't really that bad...maybe...probably...okay, you got me--I sing them when I'm in the shower or when nobody is around. But I really, really, really love hymns. Maybe not as much as girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, but I love them nonetheless. So here are a few of my favorite verses from my favorite hymns.

NOT WHAT MY HANDS HAVE DONE
"Not what my hands have done
Can save my guilty soul;
Not what my toiling flesh has borne
Can make my spirit whole.
Not what I feel or do
Can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers,
And sighs and tears
Can bear my awful load.

Thy grace alone, O God,
To me can pardon speak;
Thy power alone O Son of God,
Can this sore bondage break.
No other work, save Thine,
No other blood will do,
No strength save that,
Which is divine,
Can bear me safely through."

LET US LOVE AND SING AND WONDER
"Let us wonder grace and justice
Join and point to mercy’s store
When through grace in Christ our trust is
Justice smiles and asks no more
He Who washed us with His blood
He Who washed us with His blood
He Who washed us with His blood
Has secured our way to God."

I ASKED THE LORD
"1. I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face

2. Twas He who taught me thus to pray
And He I trust has answered prayer
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair

3. I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request
And by His love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest

4. Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part

5. Yea more with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Cast out my feelings, laid me low


6. Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
'Tis in this way' The Lord replied
'I answer prayer for grace and faith'

7. 'These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.'”

TO CHRIST THE LORD LET EVERY TONGUE
"He saw me plunged in deep distress
He fled to my relief
For me He bore the shameful cross
And carried all my grief
His hand a thousand blessings pours
Upon my guilty head
His presence gilds my darkest hours
And guards my sleeping bed

Since from His bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine
Had I a thousand hearts to give
Lord, they should all be Thine
A thousand men could not compose
A worthy song to bring
Yet Your love is a melody
Our hearts can’t help but sing!"

Amen. I don't even know if Jonathan Edwards could have said it better himself. And it should be obvious what I'm thankful for today--not only are these songs beautiful, but they are true!

Oh yeah, and, "Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels; Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles; Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings; These are a few of my favorite things."

I Comprendo'd

Today I had a breakthrough at church, though it may have been scaled down to just a semi-breakthrough after talking with a few other people. I understood the message. I could follow every point he made, and felt motivated by it! Of course, it was all in English, but at this point, what does that matter? Just kidding. It was in Spanish, and I really did understand it all. But after the service a few other people said that they like it when this guy preaches because they can understand him, so it probably has less to do with my Spanish improving than I originally thought. If the church cared about us Americans AT ALL, they would have this guy preach every Sunday. I'll give it a few weeks and if they don't budge, I'll have to see if I can get "The W" to come over the Atlantic and throw his weight around. I'm talking some serious economic sanctions here. Seriously.

And today I'm thankful that people only hear the words that come out of my mouth, not the ones in my head. That would be ugly.

Earthquake!

Have you ever been on the ride 'Earthquake!' at Universal Studios. Me neither, but as of this morning I have experienced the real deal. That's right, add 'been in an earthquake' to Mike Gorski's long list of firsts since arriving in Spain. I was writing a few emails this morning when my apartment building started moving. It was a very interesting feeling, short as it was.

After that I headed out to the market, but not before having an argument with someone over what you call a cordless drill. Apparently, it's only a drill if you use it to drill holes. I'm still calling it a cordless drill, NOT a screwdriver, even if you are using it to drive screws. I think that Black & Decker is just taking advantage of stay-at-home Moms who think they need two separate tools to do the job of one--the cordless drill.

The market went really well. I talked to quite a few people and gave out some quality Christian literature in all kinds of languages. Oh yeah, and I had a Granizado, which is basically a lemonade slurpee. It turned out to be ironic since the verse I put on the white board in front of our table read:

JESUS SAID--"I AM THE BREAD OF LIFE; WHOEVER COMES TO ME SHALL NOT HUNGER, AND WHOEVER BELIEVES IN ME SHALL NEVER THIRST." JOHN 6:35

I wonder what people were thinking as they walked by the table. I'm sure it went something like this: "What's this? That sure is a handsome young lad there at that white table. And it seems that something is written on the front of the table. I can't quite make out what it says, so I better get a closer look. I say, he is even more strapping the closer you get to him. Must come from good breeding stock. And what is it that the sign says? Never have thirst or hunger? And what is it that this adonis has in his hand? A Granizado? Oh, that looks swell. Then the sign must be speaking of a spiritual or figurative thirst, of course. He is quite the specimen though."

Yes, it would've made a great picture, me standing in front of this verse while drinking a refreshing Granizado.

Today I'm thankful for my time in the market, meeting new people and practicing Spanish. I really enjoyed it a lot. And, I used the previously mentioned cordless drill to put together some shelves afterward. And Wilco's album 'Being There' (Disc One) is rocking my world right now.

The kind of mexican food you made as a freshman in college...but worse.

Last night I ate in a mexican restaurant called Chile Grande, and it was bad. It all started that morning in class when I overheard my teacher mention meeting a group of people to eat at a mexican restaurant. Hmm. Mexican food beats a ham and cheese sandwich (though not shawarma), I thought to myself. And I love Mexican food and haven't eaten any since arriving in Spain. Okay, I'll go.

My first mistake was letting my Corona Village withdrawals take over and move me to go. When you haven't eaten anything that even comes close to resembling spicy for three months, you start to get cold sweats, nausea, and the shakes. Just like an ex-smoker misses holding a cigarette in hand, my fingers were desperate to hold a corn chip weighed down with a good salsa.

My second mistake was believing my teacher when she told me it would be good, authentic, mexican food. I don't think she's ever had real mexican food. But it's not her fault. She's from spain and mexico is quite a ways away from spain the last time I checked.

The first plate was chips and salsa. The second, a quesadilla made up of what tasted like a few pieces of melted american cheese between flour tortillas. Next came the "tacos," which, in spain, means mini burritos that your little brother made when he got home from school every day--in fourth grade. Seriously, I've made better "tacos", and I don't remember ever making tacos in my life.

This was not a real mexican restaurant. It was a house of lies.

On a more serious note, this week I read Don Miller's "Blue Like Jazz." Honestly, I thought I was going to hate it, but I couldn't put it down. It was a great book and I'm going to refrain from saying any more on the subject because it will make up my next post. Also, I got back from morocco a week from tomorrow. I'll get some better pictures from my friends, but I'll put one on here to keep you interested. I guess that will take up another post as well.

Today, I'm thankful for what God has been teaching me through the aforementioned book. He has given me some amazing insight from the place I least expected it--an emergent sympathizing best-selling Christian author. This may have been the first really popular Christian book I've ever read. If the author is still alive it means it's not worth reading, right? Just kidding.

Good night.

Fashion Faux Pas Part Deux

I just saw a girl wearing a denim mini-skirt and what appeared to be either wrestling shoes or the shoes you wear to race cars. Move over Hulk Hogan...or, um, Jeff Gordon.

Hyperactive Piano Drums

Close to two weeks between posts. Again. But as Steve Zissou said, "You know how I feel about apologies, so if it's all the same I'll just skip it...well, anyway I'm sorry." I will try to post more often as keeping up the blog really helps me keep up the introspection. In the meantime, here are two videos one of my teachers told me about. They're awesome.





Today I'm thankful for the time I will be studying for my Spanish test tomorrow. This is the first time in my life where I can literally walk out onto the street and apply what I've learned in class right away. Amazing!