London, part three: mind the gap between America and Britain

There is a woman who comes over the PA while waiting for public transportation in London. She says, "Mind the gap between the train and the platform." While there isn't a huge gap, I kinda wish I would've had that woman tell me about the gap between america and the uk before I went.

Here is a pictoral representation of some things I experienced:



We have been trained to look left, THEN right when crossing the street. It is natural. It is the way the rest of the non-formarly Bristish occupied countries in the world work. The huge signs on the street helped, but it is almost impossible to not look left also. I tried. I would try only looking right when crossing a one-way street and it was like there was a gigantic magnet hovering over my left shoulder and a equally huge piece of metal attached to my forehead. My head was compelled to look left even though the traffic was only coming from the right. Every time I crossed the street and didn't look left also, I felt as if I was going to get drilled by a car.



As we travelled around London on the Tube we found that the Brits are ultra-creative in the naming of their stops. We were compelled to go to this one. I mean, come on, who doesn't long to see elephants? We sure did. And when we thought that we could throw in one free castle as well...we were sold. So we travelled all the way to the end of the Brown line to this stop.

The stop should be called "Light Balls and Fruit Stands, because this is all we found:





I love sports...I have played or watched sports my whole life and feel like I have an excellent knowledge of all that is going on out there. But the UK has some crazy sports. Cricket and Rugby being two of them. When I saw this sign I thought, "Is there cheating going on there, because if there is, I have no idea what it is. Can Red Guy not put the ball on the ground? Can Blue Guy not grab his mate's (yeah, British English) shorts. I know grabbing your friends shorts is inappropriate, but is it cheating? Really, who is cheating here? I have no idea!



Finally, the bathrooms. Come on...girl in a dress, boy in pants...it should be easy...oh, wait, I make that mistake here...uh...never mind.

London, part two: indie rock concert

the girls and i went to an indie rock concert on friday night.

it was awesome.

basically, before we left, i looked on the web for the best venues in london, then i searched their websites for the concerts for friday night.

i found this concert. NME is some british rock magazine and every year they host an indie concert for up and coming bands. previous bands include coldplay and kaiser chiefs...i figured we couldn't lose and i was right.

these for bands played:

the automatic
the view
the horrors
mumm ra (kudos to mumm ra for not falling prey to the Definite Article Craze sweeping Great Britain)

the venue was awesome!

Here are some pics:


mumm ra (opening act and maybe my favorite of the four)




my face after the horrors played (definitely NOT my favorite band!)


my concert mates (yeah, i'm speaking british english now)


the automatic

London, part one: getting here

This is the first in a three part series on my recent couple days in London.

Our trip to London was one of the longest, most challenging journeys. We arrived at Gatwick airport at about 10:30 PM on Wednesday evening...about a half hour earlier than expected. That was the only travel mercy we had.

After passing through customs successfully (not a given with the way I look in recent days), we bought our train tickets to London Bridge, where we were supposed to switch trains and head to Grove Park...from there it should be a 15 minute walk to the place we are staying...

(11:30) As we got to the platform, Leah noticed that there was a special note saying that London Bridge was closed and we were to switch at a different spot.

(12:45) We got off at that stop, rather cluelessly, and started looking around for a connecting train to Grove Park...nothing. No trains. Barely any people. So, we walk around for a bit and run into Samantha (our first "angel"). She, too, is heading to Grove Park and missed the final connecting train, because an Underground worker told her the wrong information. That same guy sees us standing with her, realizes he gave her the wrong information and orders us a cab to make up for his error.

(1:15) The cabbie takes us to London Bridge station, but all trains are finished for the night and we've just missed the bus...the next bus is coming at 1:45.

(1:45) The bus comes, we get on, with Sam (yeah, we're calling her Sam by now) and head on our way. As we go Sam tries to explain where to get off (she is getting off before us). We don't really understand her, but nod our heads anyways.

(1:56) I fall asleep.

(1:58) I wake up.

(2:15) Sam, feeling bad, calls us a cab and tells us to get off with her.

(2:25) We get off with Sam, say bye and thanks. Get into cab.

(2:29) Find out that our cabbie is not Cabbie Robinson, but Pastor Robinson (enter second "angel"). He is Kenyan.

(2:44) Robinson pulls over because he doesn't know where he's going. He pulls out a map.

(2:46) He asks Leah to find the street because his eyes aren't so good.

(2:47) Leah points and says, "It's this big yellow one."

(2:52) We find the street.

(2:54) Robinson drops us off at *26* Grove Park Rd.

(2:56) We realize that the house is really dark and there is no indication that this is the YWAM house that we are supposed to stay at.

(2:57) I look on the car in the driveway for any indication that this is a Christian house. I don't find anything. Where are the Christian fish when you need them?

(2:59) After deliberating, Leah rings the doorbell.

(3:00) No answer.

(3:04) Still no answer.

(3:05) Leah decides to call Shalina...Sarina...Sabrina...what's her name?

(3:06) Shanina answers the phone. Looks out the window. Doesn't see us. We're at the wrong house!

(3:15) We walk up and down the street, still not seeing the house or another *26*.

(3:16) Nate takes this picture.



(3:17) Leah calls Shanaynay again. She gives us better directions.

(3:30) We arrive at the YWAM house at 76, not 26, but 76 Grove Park Road. Shanina (her real name and our third "angel" whose been waiting up for us!) lets us in!

Total Travel time: 5 hours.

Total Means of Transportation: 5 (Train, Cab, Bus, Cab, Feet)

blogger stalkers

i always thought having a stalker (or two) would be cool. ya know, its not really scary for a guy, like it is for a girl, so i thought, "yeah, having a stalker would be flattering."

a couple months ago i found out that i did have stalkers...blogger stalkers. i'd heard of such things before. when the longbrake and i were in krakow, poland we ran into a random dude in the square who said, "Hey, you're thelongbrake, huh? I read your blog all the time." then he asked to get a picture. a little creepy, but also flattering.

so there are these two girls who live in prague. they found my blog through a mutual friend and started the blog stalking. my friends told me about them. one time sunny posted a comment (a little bold for a stalker if you ask me). so, i started reading her blog (re-stalking if you will...and you will). then from her blog i found jessica, sunny's co-stalker.

about two months ago i got the opportunity to meet jessica. it was fun. we hung out. we talked. good times were had. but as i left i wondered, "did i live up to my blog? i mean, this girl is one of my stalkers. i have a lot to live up to. am i as funny in real life as i am in my blog? man, i hope i wasn't a disappointment." maybe that is too introspective and self-consumed, but really, this girl only knows me from my blog and she loves it...its a real possibility that i wouldn't live up to it...

so, last night i finally got to hang out with both of them in what sunny affectionately called, "The 2007 Blog Stalkers Convention". it was fun...also awkward...i know them, but do i really know them? do i shake their hands? do i give them hugs? do i say, "nice to meet you", "good to see you again", or stutter and act like an idiot?

we caught up on old times, like the time sunny found the link to my blog on laura's blog or the time jessica commented on my "white." post, or the time sunny and her friend laughed for a long time about my "haduken" post...oh the fun we had reminiscing!

but sometimes as we talked, i'd start to share a story and i'd realize, "crap, i already blogged about that! can't share that one." it was terrible! i realized that most of my good 'material' is on my blog. so, i made up some stories...

eventually the night had to end. it was sad. we did hug goodbye. we even planned to spend another night hanging out. the relationship is progressing nicely.

bride

"For I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy; for I betrothed you to one husband, so that to Christ I might present you as a pure virgin." - 2 Cor 11:2 -

Being the bride of Christ has always been a tough metaphor for me to truly grasp. I mean, as a man, to be called a bride...its just always been kinda hard for me. I'm supposed to be the husband. I am supposed to be the MAN. I've never rejected being the bride, I've just always had a hard time grasping the truth of it and fully celebrating being the bride.

Maybe I'll never fully understand it, but I did get to experience a bit of it a few years ago when I was the best man in one of my best friends' wedding. It was the first time ever being best man and it was such a blessing. I'd been a groomsmen in a couple different weddings and it has its benefits*, but often times you are so far down the line that you don't get a great view of the ceremony. If the guy in front of you, lets call him Number 3, gets tired of leaning forward, he leans back, blocking your once good view and causing you to lean forward and therefore being blocked out by Number 2. Its a futile, but neccessary, battle that must be fought all ceremony.

So, in having this unobstructed view of Jeremy's wedding, I got to see something I'd never seen before. As the doors in the back of the sanctuary opened up and Karina walked down the aisle, I got the pleasure of watching Jeremy's face.

His bride. Adorned in white. Beautiful. Walking towards him. To choose him. To spend the rest of their lives together.

I don't even think I watched Karina walk down the aisle that day. I was transfixed by the look of love on Jeremy's face. And then it hit me...



That is how Christ feels towards us.



He is filled with pure joy when His bride is adorned in white. When we, the church, are holy.
He is filled with so much love that He would lay down His life for His bride.
He is filled with pleasure when His bride chooses Him and submits herself to Him.

We bring joy to Christ!

I love the imagary of being the bride. No matter how many times I dress in a gown (uh, I mean, I've only done it once...for this, uh, picture...I promise), it is still hard to imagine myself as a bride. But being able to watch Jeremy's love for Karina helped me to have a better idea of what a beautiful metaphor it is and how much more Jesus truly loves us.

In 20 days I'll be the best man in another wedding. I look forward to getting a better grasp of what it means to be the bride of Christ as I stand beside Jared and watch him as Jordan walks down the aisle.


*In being the best man (and single), you get all the face time (for all the single ladies out there), but you have all the responsibility. I thought that being best man would be the best way to meet cute girls, but in fact, it is the worst. You have to make sure the wedding is going smoothly, make sure the car is decorated, make sure the honeymoon room is taken care of, collect all the tuxes, help pack up the presents, and the countless other details of a wedding. Basically, you do all the work, so there is no time for the ladies. The groomsman is a far superior role in the girl department. You get face time, but you have no responsibility after the ceremony. The reception is free for getting your mac on...

widowmaker 07

that was the unofficial name for our josiah venture men's ski retreat last week.

here are some pics:

happy birthday, kulia

today my friend kulia would've been 29. i say would've been because she died of cancer in the summer of '04.

that period of my life...and my friends lives for that matter, were some of the most challenging, growing, bonding and painful times of our lives. from that anxious time of waiting to hear test results back, to the day we found out the cancer was back, to the countless days spent with her at her apartment, to moving her back to her dad's house, to the hospital visits...it was a rough time...

i thought about her a lot today...probably the most that i have in a long time...so this is my way of processing...remembering...

i'm going to tell a story.

its a story that many have heard before.

its a story i shared at her funeral.

its a story that helps me remember.


one of the blessings of working at a church is that my job is to love people. my job is to care for them when they are hurting. my job is to be with people. so, during the winter/early spring of 04 when kulia started getting sick again i would take my school books to her apartment, stop at starbucks for her favorite, chai tea latte, and we'd hang out...

she didn't like being alone...i didn't like her being alone

so one of those days as i cozied up to The Hebrew & Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testiment and she curled up on the couch to read some Christian/Romance novel (really, i can't believe there are such things), she got a nose bleed. they always took her out of commission. she was really looking forward to reading her book and since i was NOT looking forward to mine, i agreed to read to her.

i moved over to the couch. she layed down. i covered her with a blanket, covered her nose with a towel and ice, and she rested her head on my leg.

i read.

the story was ok. seemed typical. some lonely woman who had been hurt in the past was building a relationship with some guy who had a sordid past. she wanted to be with him, but was it ok? would he hurt her again? blah, blah, blah.

i read some more.

then: the "love" scene.

now i'm not one to be uncomfortable with lovey things, but something about reading a woman's thoughts and emotions as her and some guy become intimate and share their first kiss doesn't sit well with me.

the worst part is that kulia's eyes are closed, her breathing has deepened, but i'm not quite sure if she is asleep or not.

do i stop reading?

what if she is awake? then she'd know that i felt uncomfortable reading and it would ruin the "mood" for her.

what if she is sleeping? i don't want to be reading this romance novel to myself!

so i read on.

and read.

finally, when things are starting to get too intimate and i'm certain kulia is sleeping, i close the book, gentley lay it down on the coffee table and...

her cell phone rings and wakes her up...

how long i'd read that love story with her sleeping i don't know, but i do know that we laughed about it...

i love remembering her laugh...sometimes the sound fades where i don't think i can remember it anymore...then i think back to this story...

or the time i helped jump start her car in the pouring rain and we got soaked and almost killed ourselves...

or sitting on her bed with our friends, just messing around...

its good to remember.

miss you and love you, kulia.