I was recently moved by a book of poetry that was written and autographed for us by our dear friend Jenny Checchia. I have known Jenny since my NYC years and watched her grow as one of our FAT Kids. I had always felt that Jenny had a lot to offer the world through her brokeness and vulnerable inner beauty. In publishing this book, she surprised us and did just that! I encourage you to support this incredible woman and order your own copy of “The Bridge”.

All profits from the book will be donated to The Hunger Project, so I’ve been doing a lot of the shipping and handling myself to keep the costs down. While the book will still be for sale after the first print edition has sold through, the royalty share to The Hunger Project decreases by 47% when purchased through Amazon.com and 74% when purchased through bookstores.- www.JennyChecchia.com

]]> http://jeremiahcaleb.com/2011/12/13/check-out-the-bridge/feed/ http://jeremiahcaleb.com/2011/07/11/table-of-renewal/ http://jeremiahcaleb.com/2011/07/11/table-of-renewal/#comments Mon, 11 Jul 2011 16:24:58 +0000 Jeremiah http://jeremiahcaleb.com/?p=457

The winding path stretches out for miles before the pilgrims like glistening streams under the setting crimson sun, beyond the rolling hills and flowing valleys. Along the way, they are often met with other weary wanderers from the sub paths that join the main lane reaching out of sight where the tip of the mountain top kisses the skies. At this point of the journey, the travelers are spent in every way. Their tongues are parched, their stomachs groan with hunger, their feet are callused, and their spirits weary.

They make their way to the next look out spot and drop their loads by the foot of the great oak tree. They take in the view from the cliffs looking back on how far they have come. The sound of the still waters on the down stream can be heard. Drawn to the delicious clear water, they wash their faces and dip their feet in the deep coolness.

One by one, they continue to the pastures where a table has been magically spread before them as it was the day before further down the path. Only the spread seems bigger than before. When every last seat has been filled, the meal of celebration begins. The sunset on the horizon casts a warm glow as the wine flows and the warm dishes are passed around. Young and old, weak and strong alike break bread together.

As the food nourishes their bodies, the travelers share stories of their journeys. They speak of the thorny paths, the muddy swamps, the sea of wild multi-colored flowers and the beauty that is found in unexpected places. Some stories draw tears of deep emotion and other bring laughter that musically rings in the gentle breeze.

When the last drop of wine has been drunk, and the last song has been sung, they move from the magical table to find places of solitude beneath the trees to rest and gaze upon the glittering stars. Under the canopy of oak trees, they are sheltered from the storms and the dangers of the night. At the break of dawn, they are woken by the birds tweeting of promises to come. They clothe themselves with the clean garments laid out for them, pick up their bags of gifts they acquired along the way, and depart with the new friends they met along the journey.

The jovial company which was smaller the day before, journey up the path, through more thorny paths and valleys, feeling renewed energy in their numbers. They move closer to the mark one step at a time with every ounce of hope and strength. As the sun sets again, they make their way once more to the table of renewal set before them and those they met along the way. There are more stories to be told, and songs to be sung…

April 30, 2011- It was a day I will always remember. It had been a week mixed with business, old memories, reunions and delightful magic in New York City. After all the waiting, planning, and struggles, the day finally arrived. Holding my father’s bible close to my heart I walked down 8^th Avenue, the very street in which I had once wandered lost and hungry. Only now, I walked with the anticipation of a bridegroom. I was surrounded by my band of American brothers whom I had somehow been blessed to share my life with. Each represented the man I wanted to be and I felt surrounded by greatness. They had prayed over me, supported me with their strength and now they walked with me to the church where a new chapter of my life was about to begin.

St. Paul’s church stood majestically in the middle of 22^nd Street. Perhaps it was the fact that future king of England had just been married a few hours prior to this, or the fact that everyone had come to the church dressed in vintage clothing and head pieces that led me to feel like I had stepped back to my childhood in Wales. I felt a peace wash over me that day as I waited for my bride to arrive.

Voices of worship filled the looming ceiling of the church that afternoon as I took my place beside my bestmen at the altar. This was one of the rare moments in life when I felt the presence of my creator swirling around me affirming that I was in the palm of His mighty hand. The shofar sounded and the door opened to reveal my bride dressed in lace. She was bathed by the creamy sunlight that streamed through the stain glass and washed over her. Joy had arrived for us! There would be no more waiting.

She walked towards me slowly as joy bubbled within me. Our entire journey flashed in my mind as I fixed my eyes on her own radiant ones. I imagined my father smiling down at us. I watched my mother witness her answered prayers, and I held the precious hands of my beloved in my mine. Surrounded by those I love and in the presence of the author of our story, I gave myself to Angel at long last.

Every word that was sung or spoken was meaningful. The FAT kids led the choir in glorious anthem. We exchanged rings and vows. There was so much love and joy in the room and it radiated like a burning flame. Time stood still as I kissed the lips of my new wife and our friends and family jumped up in thunderous applause and cheers.

I took a million mental snapshots that day. I remember the hugs that spoke volumes of love, the speeches that honored our lives, the laughter of my mother, the way the warm sun hit our face as we exited the church to a shower of bird seeds, the vision of my friends dancing all through the night in candlelight and moonlight, and not to mention the vision of my bride who sparkled like a jewel. But the thing that moved me most that day was grace.

It was grace that brought me this far. I saw grace in my friends who rallied around me, working tirelessly to make this the most magical day Angel and I could have dreamed of. I saw it from people who had traveled from all corners of the world to share this with us, and many who were unable to come but witnessed the live screening of the union. I felt grace in the promises and dreams that suddenly seemed possible. I felt loved beyond measure and my cup ran over with abundance.

Following a brief honeymoon in a cozy cottage in Connecticut, and a short period of rest in New York City, I returned to LA with my wife and carried her over the threshold to our life together. Our journey had begun…

April 30, 2011

3PM Eastern Standard Time

Just click on

http://www.ustream.tv/channel/jeremiah-wedding

Over the last few months change has hit me in waves of joy and reflection. It began upon the arrival of my bride in January and progressed with each milestone in the months that followed. On a cold weekend in February I traveled with my fiancé to my parents house in my small hometown in Gray, TN to pack up my childhood in boxes that might one day be passed on to my children. Every old yearbook, video recordings and photos told stories and reminded me of the dreams and hopes I harbored through my college years. Strangely, it hurt to pack up my memories. I mourned the loss and then sat by my father’s grave to bare my soul in solitude as I often did during my visits. When I took one last glimpse of my bare boyhood room and pulled out of the driveway to return to Los Angeles, I felt like I was leaving behind a part of me forever. For the first time since I left my parents house 13 years ago to go off to school, I realized that coming back home would never quite be the same again. Nevertheless, a new chapter was waiting…

A month later, I celebrated 30 years of my life. After my initial panic of the major life changes that were hitting me all at once and the realization that my years of singlehood and youth were rapidly vanishing, I stopped and reflected yet again. And as my lifesong sang my story, I realized that though my three decades on this earth I had been blessed to live a full life. Weather or not I am always successful I realized that I wake up each morning and live out my calling. It was with this new perspective that I woke up to welcome the sunrise of my thirtieth birthday, and what I believe was the happiest day of my entire existence.

I watched the golden sunrise with my bride on the beach, spent a meaningful afternoon with my roommate celebrating the sunshine on the mountainside, and then soaking in the crimson sunset over the ocean from the top of the Shangrilla hotel, surrounded by my friends who had dressed up in New York fashion in my honor to celebrate me. There were gifts and words that told stories of my new life. I was drunk from joy that night.

The weeks that followed seem like a dream fueled by my positive outlook and the new songs my life was singing. Following a glorious Easter celebration, I boarded the plane with my roommate and best man to my beloved New York City. Despite the high stress of wedding week and the challenges that have met me from every end, I have cherished the joy of an anticipating bridegroom. Every place of my past in this glorious but harsh city has reminded me of how far I have come.

“I once was lost, but now I’m found.

Once was blind but now I see,

I don’t know how but when He touched me,

I once was blind but now I see

And now my Lifesong sings to Him”

It’s quite simple… I was met by grace in the most profound way. No matter where my journey took me, my creator never took His hand away from me. So beneath all the life changes and rapid pressure, there is pure joy.

I write this at the wee hours of the morning while people gather in Times Square to witness the royal wedding in just an hour. It is the eve of my own wedding day. Tomorrow I will continue the legacy that was left for me and embrace the joy I waited so long for. Tomorrow, surrounded by those I love and standing in front of the woman I love, my lifesong will sing once more.

http://artsmagazine.info/articles.php?view=detail&id=2011041714563172036

“We sat side by side in the morning light and looked out at the future together.”
-Brian Andres

It was a morning of hope. There was a pool of emotions swirling inside me as I stood at the LAX holding a bouquet of deep red roses. My close friends stood beside me and I felt the warmth of their excitement and energy. I was wearing the same outfit I wore almost 4 years ago when I set eyes on Angel for the first time. I thought of the many times I had deplaned in India and come out of the airport to find her waiting for me. Only this time, it was I who stood on the receiving end waiting for over two hours for my destiny.

For the first time, I truly had the chance to reflect on how the airport was site to the most joyful and heartwarming reunions. A little girl ran up to her young father with her excited little voice, “Daddy! Daddy!” covering him with kisses. Moments later, another little girl ran to greet her father in a similar fashion. With her hands up in the air she cried “Happy! Happy!” because she could not find the words to express her joy. Joy was evidently the theme of the morning…

During the waiting, my mind found cause to reflect. It was never in my plan or nature to wait, and yet that is exactly what I was called to do. I recalled the first letter that started this whole journey, word for word. I never would have dreamed that the chain of letters that followed would have led to this. There were many times I tried to run from it only to find that the deep desire of my heart lay at my point of surrender.

I thought back to the twists and turns along the way, the questions that challenged me, the tears that broke me, and the decisions that changed me. The postponed wedding dates, the cultural differences, the obstacles had all extended the waiting and now quite suddenly, it seemed the waiting had come to an end, and joy waited at the end of the path. I realized that it was in the waiting that I grew the most. It was the waiting that prepared me to stand confidently for the moment at hand. I was a combination of a Man who fought for this moment, and a boy dreaming.

Then, there she was. She emerged quite naturally from the gate as if she was merely coming home to a place that was always familiar to her. One glimpse of her was all it took for my doubts and questions to dissolve. My hopes rose with the beating of my heart as she made her way towards me. Time stood still as she buried herself in my embrace.

I watched her being greeted by my friends- her new family. She fit in like the last piece of a puzzle as the reality of her arrival slowly began to sink it. There were no words to describe the moment. We drove out of the airport to be greeted by the warm California sun. Our morning had finally come and Hope was rising once again…

As I get older, I find myself rediscovering my boyhood wonder of Christmas which I had lost sight of in my twenties. This year everything about the season seemed to send tingles of joy through me. The smell of the pine tree in my LA apartment, the warmth of hot apple cider, family photo greeting cards from friends I have not seen in months, the music, and even the cold weather. But I suppose the real sense of wonder is due to the miracle of God’s gifts that I have suddenly opened my eyes to. In reflecting on the miraculous birth of our savor, I have also begun to take notice of the daily miracles that have unfolded around over the last few months.

When I packed my bags and departed from New York City in the spring of 2009, I never dreamed that I would one day actually call Los Angeles my home. But then again, such is life. When you least expect it, you come to a bend in the road that changes your life forever! This has been a year of both challenges and surprises. For every tear I shed, I have found joy waiting for me at the end. Since my ordination in the summer, our ministry has multiplied and forced me to step up. There were months I felt the weight of the plight of my orphan siblings in India, or the struggles of some of my friends in Westwood. After more postponing of my wedding date due to immigration issues, I felt the rug pulled under me one too many times.

But then came December- the month that began with a miracle and began the motion of other miracles. On the first day of this month, I played a part in baptizing a dear friend who over the last few months had risen above some dark times, and accepted Jesus into her heart after 42 years of Islamic faith. It was surreal to stand with her in the Pacific Ocean with Dustin and Nichole and say those words that had moved me to tears at my own baptism almost 18 years ago, “I now baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…” I decided that there is nothing more profound than I can ever do with my life.

Following our friend, Dove’s baptism, I boarded the plane to the east coast. Not even the invasive pat down at the check point could rob me of my joy. I spent the next two weeks in a humbling position meeting people close to me in New York, and the South, telling them of my call to ministry and asking them to join me in this adventurous journey. As I shared my story over and over again I felt the renewed sense of call join God in the renewal of all things through my life.

It was a Christmas gift in itself to eat my mother’s home cooking, and have full conversations with my wonderful toddler God-daughters, Anna and Raney, the joys of my life. One of the highlights of my trip was a reunion in New Bern NC, with a college teacher after 8 years and experienced a unique soul connection and friendship. The best miracle of all came in the form of a phone call from my fiancée Angel at 2AM one morning. With emotional excitement, she gave me the news that her visa had finally been granted. Almost four years later, the waiting has come to an end… At the early hours of the morning in my parents’ house, I viewed the idea of Hope in new light.

I spent a meaningful Christmas back in Los Angles with a band of brothers with a heart so full of thanks and anticipation for the year ahead. Tomorrow morning, I will enjoy another miracle. After months of taxing my body, I will finally detach from my phone and my work for a couple of days and take a much needed rest as I load up my jeep for a road trip with my roommate. Rejuvenation awaits…

Today was supposed to have been my wedding day. According to my initial plans, I was supposed to have been getting ready for the church at this hour with my groomsmen. Instead, I am sitting here on this rainy day in Los Angeles writing this blog. Since Angel and I were engaged at the beginning of last year our wedding date has been postponed three times already due to the delay in immigration papers. I hope that this would be the last postponement because I wonder if our hearts can endure another…

Instead of wallowing in this place of unknowing, I chose to spend this morning reflecting on the waiting… It is mind boggling to see how my life drastically shifted course over the last year and a half. What if things had gone exactly the way I dreamed on the day I proposed to Angel? I might never have ever ventured out of New York City, I might not have made a home among the Angelinos, I might have not become ordained, I might not have attempted the things I always wanted to achieve before my 30s and never quite had the time or courage to do so. I might not had the chance for a deeper preparation for my role as a husband. The list goes on…

Somewhere between the place where my dreams become a reality, I have come to discover the surprises that lay in store for me along the way. I find myself thanking God for the waiting. The journey has been beyond my wildest imagination. Sometime during the waiting I stopped living in the past and in the future, but rather in the present.

Today, my heart continues to long for my bride’s arrival into the United States of America. The wedding day is still a special dream. While there remains this unsettling feeling, I continue to fight the urge to fall into despair and flee. Instead I choose to be still and wait for God to find me and meet me in the waiting…

“All things splendid have been achieved by those who dared believe that something inside them was superior to circumstance…”

-Bruce Barton

On my 21^st birthday I made a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish before my 30^th birthday. I’m sure many of you have made such a list. This is the list of wistful ambitions and dreams we make before the conflicts of life tire us and mar our focus of making these dreams a reality. While I certainly had my share of lofty ambitions some of my goals were simple. These were the things I never learned from my father as a child.

Don’t get me wrong. My father was absolutely WONDERFUL! I loved him dearly and he was indeed my hero. However unlike the other boys I grew up with, there were a lot of lessons I never learned. Maybe it was due to the fact that my father was always on the mission field caring for the hearts of the people or perhaps it was due to the almost 50 year gap in our age… Whatever the reason may have been I ended up learning lessons about things such as male responsibilities, sex, adventures and survival all on my own. While my Dad had been a diver and an athlete in his day, I never learned to swim, throw a ball, or even ride a bike.

Naturally I never broadcasted my inabilities because of a secret fear that society might deem me as less of a man. For the most part this did not matter anyway because the things that I grew to value were art, music and books. However recently, as I wrap up the decade of my twenties and prepare for marriage to an athletic nature lover, the desire to know these things surfaced. While I once vowed to be a conformed bachelor, I now entertain the thought of fatherhood in the near future and dream of the legacy I wish to pass on to my son.

Since I moved to LA away from the crazy deadlines and mindless rushing of city life, I have discovered new pleasures and risks. Last week, another opportunity for yet another boyhood lesson presented itself when my roommate proposed that our friend Nichole and myself join him for a day of biking at the beach. My first inclination was to decline or make up an excuse of how I would much rather run at the beach. Of course they saw right through me and it was decided that I would ride a bike that day for the first time in my life!

I felt my heart racing as we drove to Santa Monica beach and parked. With the encouragement of my friends, I got on the bicycle and of course wobbled dangerously. To my embarrassment, I felt the eyes of strangers on me as I failed to stay upright on the bike. Nichole cheered me on like a loyal cheerleader as my roommate strapped on his roller skates and steadied the bike with his firm grip on my seat. Ironically, Dustin was also the same friend who sat beside me on my first roller coaster ride a year ago, took my hand as I ventured into the ocean for the first time in years, taught me how to stay afloat in the water, and how to throw and catch a baseball. He is a little bit younger than me, and yet now I found myself like a vulnerable child as this all American man coached me patiently with the utmost care.

Just 30 minutes after I began my lesson, I found victory. I cannot describe the thrill I felt the first time I took off on my own after Dustin released his grip on my seat. It took a second to realize that I was actually doing this on my own. Nichole cheered excitedly and Dustin yelled excitedly as if he had just thought his child to walk. I felt less like a challenged 29yr old and more like a 9yr old who had just been given a new gift of freedom. I rode fast feeling the sea breeze on my face. All of a sudden, my dreams of riding along the beach with my new bride was a definite possibility. In fact the possibilities seemed endless.

I continued to feel triumph long after we tied up the bike and charged into the cold ocean under the golden sun. Who says that boyhood lessons can only be learned at an early age? At the end of my 20s, I have only just begun to discover some of the most glorious pleasures of being alive on this wonderful earth…