Reflections in Proverbs

Proverbs 10:25 When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever.
This passage is interesting for several reasons. For one thing it makes a reference to the story of Noah. I think that the message of this verse is rather straight forward. In the story of Noah the wicked were literally swept away by the flood. However, I think that Solomon is speaking more metaphorically. When hard times and the trials of life come how we react depends on several things: our worldview, upbringing, past experiences, etc… The wicked man does not have a strong set of morals to lean on in these hard times. He is without the help of God who is the only way to make it through the hardest of times. The wicked man is a fool and does not have the knowledge to survive when the storms of life come. However, the righteous man knows to fall on God. He knows that the cross is his only hope and that he has no power alone.
It seems that every day I have to remind myself to be like the righteous man. I don’t know if it speaks ill on my relationship with God, but every single mourning I have to make the choice of how I am going to live my day. Being righteous doesn't come naturally. I have to make a conscious effort everyday to decide to be different, and honestly, I don’t decide to everyday. I play soccer at the public school twice a week. On these days, I wake up and the first thing in my mind is how I am going to represent Christianity. It is like my conscience is screaming "You are not speaking for yourself!" On these soccer days it is easy for me to get off on the right start, but this is only twice a week. Asking for forgiveness is a continuous part of my life. Most days I just look back and say "What am I doing." In my life the storms of life are the days that I decide to be the wicked man. They leave me drained and feeling swept away. On the days I choose to serve Christ to the utmost I feel like I could go to the moon and back. I still wonder why the storms come more often then the calm.

Here is a poem for my fellow fishermen

THE BAIT.
by John Donne

COME live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.

There will the river whisp'ring run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun ;
And there th' enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest ;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes.

For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait :
That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,
Alas ! is wiser far than I.

Friends Aren't Forever

Where would I be without my friends? They keep me honest, give advice, and urge me on to better things. That’s what true friends do.
Growing up at NCA has taught me many things. One thing I have gleaned from our little school is the importance of good relationships. Luckily I have never had to look far for good friends. They were virtually chosen for me. When you are surrounded by the same handful of people everyday for six or more years, you can’t help but form friendships.
When I look around, I don’t see friendships like ours in the adults that surround me. Do friends disappear at a certain age? It seems like all my superiors are with out the buddies that I have. Did they substitute them for a wife, family, and job? It certainly seems that way. It frightens me that the people I am so close to now will probably be gone some day. The chances are that we will grow apart and go our separate ways. Everyday I think about my friends. Everyday I think about their feelings and our relationships. It just seems daunting that one day we might have priorities that are above each other. So take a minute and think about good friends you have and good friends you have lost.

The Finer Things in Life

Beep Beep Beep. I wake up every mourning to the noise, let out a sigh, and rip myself out of bed. We make a lot of important choices in the first few moments of our day. I do not know about you, but this scares me because I am not in a good mood in the mourning. I am sure many people can attest to this. I do not like to get out of bed, and I do not like people who make me get out of bed. However, I do love fashion, and in the mourning is when many of us make the seemingly unimportant decisions of what to wear. "Dress for success." What does that mean? I take this proverb very seriously. Some call it vanity, but I call it playing the part. There is nothing wrong with caring about how you present yourself. As a student, I am thankful for our dress code. It has kept me from growing up in a t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans. I remember one Christmas very well, when my dad asked me what I wanted for Christmas I said 5 suits and a navy blue blazer. Even though I never got the suits I still think that dressing for success is a noble cause. Some guys my age want cars, girls, and gadgets. I prefer the finer things, the classic peacoat, the shirt with French cuffs, satin lined jackets, the things that are made to last as long as you will. Most mornings I mope into a pair of jeans and polo, but when my head is square on my shoulders I suit up in my power outfits and rise to conquer the day. It is strange the power that cloths can have on you. Any man will tell you that as soon as you put on a double breasted coat, you feel like you are ready to join the navy, make a million, and get the girl all in a days work. So I prefer the finer things in life, quality over convenience. The only obstacles are fiscal and dormitory.

A Rowdy Ride with Sweaty Smells

there are many unique experiences that come along with joining a high school sport. You learn what operating under a dictator is like (coach). You learn what it is like being part of a team. You feel the joys and pangs that come with winning and losing. There is one experience that stands apart in NCA athletics. This is the infamous bus-ride. Now, every soccer, basketball, and track member knows the joys of a two and a half hour bus ride. Boredom can strike at any moment. It is in times like these where things can get crazy. Girls screaming, men shouting, and the one guy in the back that is trying to sleep in the midst of a sound wave that could rival a Rolling Stones concert. In fact, sometimes it gets quite coral in the big yellow beast. Between bus chants and a mixture of rap and worship music, I don’t know how the driver can keep on the road let alone restrain from killing several of the players. After all, coach Murais came close a few times. In the midst of all this madness, there is something beautiful going on. The team is being formed. The bus is where friendships are made and cemented. It is a time of separation from schoolwork, parents, and the stresses of the coming game. It is you among friends.