The Supreme-ly confusing Court

OK, so I'm a little confused.  Actually very confused.  Yesterday, the Supreme court handed down 2 rulings, one on the Defense of Marriage Act, and one on California's Prop 8.  Having been one of the 53% of California voters who cast a ballot in favor of Prop 8 when it passed, I was interested in reading the decisions in more detail.

I'm now of the opinion that the Supreme court contradicted itself with these 2 rulings.

First, in the DOMA decision, the court ruled 5-4 that the ultimate and final authority should be given to the states regarding the definition of marriage.

Logically, that would mean Prop 8 would be upheld because 53% of California voters voted for their state to define marriage as being between one man and one woman.

Yet, mind boggingly, in the Prop 8 decision, the court then ruled 5-4 that California's citizens neither have the right to define marriage as they choose in their own state, nor to defend their own definition in a federal court.

To rewind, Prop 8 was proposed on the 2008 ballot after 5 judges on the California State Supreme Court arbitrarily decided that same-sex "marriage" should be legal. The California Marriage Protection Act (Proposition 8) was then petitioned for and placed on the ballot, and was passed by 53% of the vote (the 3rd time CA had voted for a similar bill, BTW - winning with 63% in 1998 and 58% in 2002).  And, as has been the case every time a state's citizens have voted on the definition of marriage, voters chose to define marriage as between 1 man and 1 woman (unwittingly or wittingly upholding the Biblical definition of marriage which, as a Christian, is the most important factor to me).

However, a district court judge (and admitted homosexual) then struck down the proposition and overruled the will of millions of citizens because, in his opinion, a state's citizens amending their own state constitution, is unconstitutional.  Madness.  At least 37 states still have not fallen prey to state legislators and judges hijacking their laws and overruling their will in favor of a radical political agenda.  It would seem I moved out of Sodom er, I mean California and into the land of Canaan, er..I mean North Carolina, just in time.

Anyway, years later, here we are.  Obviously the words "We the people" in the Constitution mean nothing anymore, it is now "We the elite few".

Without question, I believe these judges who handed down 2 contradictory rulings should be impeached.  The constitution allows for impeachment of federal, state, and local judges and it has happened before.  However, I'm afraid this America has gotten so far away from the Constitution and from it's Judeo-Christian heritage that no one cares anymore or, if they do, they don't think anything can be done.

"Corrupt judges accept secret bribes, and then justice is not done."(Proverbs 17:23)

Thanksgiving Poem

Happy New Year, there's a hole in my ceiling.
3 weeks to fix, three weeks of pipes, themselves revealing.

Pop laid up with a broken hip
I'm trying to hold things together like a tie clip.
So when they found cancer on the bone and like that he was gone, man I know I'm grown, but I still groaned.
And felt so alone, like the One on the throne had got up and flown.

Felt so much pressure on my shoulders,
Fundraising, studying, and getting older.
It was gettin real heavy tryin to carry all these Boulders.

The year was looking bleak at the start,
The whole picture strange and confusing like abstract art.
Everything falling apart, and on top of this cake, spread the icing of a broken heart.

She was beautiful to me,
But the secret depths I couldn't see.
Saying she care for you,
Hiding a stinger like a bee.

Said there was something I'm missing
Then took it back to cover the dissing.
I really ain't mad, just reminiscing.
Said nice things, I just don't think she beleived 'em.
Because I tried to give it wings, but she wouldn't receive 'em.

Fancied herself out of reaach for me,
At least that's how it seemed to be, but only secretly.
Hidden pride and vanity,
Saying it's unfortunate for me.

Got stupid twisted up over her,
Had me feeling like a last resort,
Like that's all I was good for,
I ain't holdin a grudge, just stating where I was before.

All this messing with my mentality,
No idea how I could be,
Undesirable in totality,
Was it my personality?
Maybe my sexuality, or informality,
Or maybe it was just a technicality.
Whatever it was, I had in mind my own mortality.

But then I saw a miracle,
Actually many.
Flew around this blue-green spherical,
Yahweh providing the pennies.

Living and working in a foreign land,
Movin through oceans and jungles, and pretty beach sand.
Bathing in rivers, and being delivered
From pain and despair,
God showing again that He really does care,
And will always hold me close, even when there's no one else here.

Plus 9 gorgeous girls, surrounding me for 6 weeks,
Confirming and affirming why I should be ignoring when the self-hatred begins to sneak.
And this one in particular had some kissable cheeks.
Curly hair, long legs, and a smile that makes you weak.

Plus these pretty blue-brown eyes,
They piercin right through me, so why wear a disguise?

And we could dance up a storm,
She moved perfectly w/my frame, this girl was not the norm.

Smart, fun, and real pretty,
Those eyes like 2 doves, and that humor so witty.

So I had to take me a chance,
After under the stars, we did the Rumba and Swing dance.

Plus a 2-step and Fox Trot,
Didn't know what I felt, but man she was hot.

Then watched the sunrise together,
Held her hand and felt skin soft as a feather.
Started feeling myself breaking free from that tether.

A bath in warm mud, then rinsing off skin,
What was happening here? Saw God's protection from sin.

Then the airport coffee date, and the kiss to beat.
Short Swing dance, "I love you," and a heart that just leaped.

Know Pop is at peace,
Know time is God's keeps,
Know that He is so strong,
And I am so so weak.

Know God has a plan,
Know I don't need to understand,
Know that through everything, He's made me a man.

Know to be pursuing His Will,
Know I need help still,
Know He's in control morning noon and night,
Probably don't know much else, but the future is bright!

I thank the LORD this Thanksgiving,
For above all else, the fact I'm still living.
And for teaching me not to be angry when others give hurt, I need my own forgiving.
For showing me a new standard of living,
That's not measured by black and red, but by loving, caring, giving.

And for what He plans for the future,
Whatever it may be.
For His healing suture,
Because after so long, I can see.

Your Bathroom Floor

With a head full of pressure, Feelin it's too much. Got a date with Divinity, But she'll never let me touch. Everything looks gray and hazy, Aint nothin I can change. So now I feel the rush, As I open up my veins. It goes one for the cannabis, two for insanities. Three for the reasons, four for those who don't get it. Five for your love, six for the stress, And seven for the day I climed into this mess. Ask dad to keep cool, I don't blame him anymore. And I'll see him again, Here on God's bathroom floor. So unify the eulogy, Autopsy reads clear suicide, Nothin they could do for me, Just take the ride. But go the extra mile, And promise me you'll smile. Don't let this mess your style, Because look at the floor - God's got nice tile. Fix the problems with a blade, Don't think I'll be missed, Blood flows, turns my eyes from blue to gray, Well the landlord might be pissed. No one's fault but my own, Just can't take no more, I wanna go home. God please forgive me, Don't know another way. If there is one I can't see Past the pain of today. I'm not gonna make it, I don't have the patience, To wait for You to bring me through, So I found a way to come to You. Please don't close the door, When I wake up on Your bathroom floor. O God please, don't close the door, When I wake up on Your bathroom floor.

Learning How to Cope

Since I set out on my own 8 years ago, I can't recall any year which has begun with so many personal challenges as 2012.  Learning how to cope with everything I've been going through and still maintain my faith and trust in God through it all has been difficult, especially since I have very few close friends I feel I can talk through things with.  So what I find myself doing quite often is writing - writing my prayers, thoughts, feelings, and so forth is a very effective way for me to see how I'm feeling about everything I'm going through.  It may only make sense to me, but the following is a poem I jotted down a few weeks ago which is along those lines.  If you happen to be interested or curious to learn more, feel free to contact me in any way, as I wouldn't mind having some one to talk to.  And until next time - thank you for reading, don't drink and drive, don't text and drive, and God bless America, it's a beautiful country.

Dialed up his homie once on the telephone,

Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong.

Brain freezin’ up, he don’t know what to do,

But the people that know him know that it ain’t nothin’ new.

Catch 6 rings, then the answering machine,

Hung up on the beep, stared up towards the ceiling.

Stood up to remember that he slept fully dressed,

So he grabbed his keys and put a hat on his rat’s nest.

Stepped up to that big outside,

Somebody once said today’s a good day to die.

But he never really was a big fan of their work,

So he starts out his walk by kicking sand in the dirt.

A friend to the stranger, a stranger to friends,

He’d like a coffee and a sausage McMuffin when you have a minute.

Handle it.  Paid up.  The change you keep it,

Always been a sucker for the morning smile and summer cleavage.

And if you knew him better, he’d ask for some time,

Because he’s looking for a reservoir to empty his mind.

And there’s only so much he can write before it’s too long,

Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong.

And this house has gotta lotta walls,

But only very few mean anything to you.

Through the sights of blacktop, pavement, and the street,

Sees that life is priceless and talk is cheap.

And as he sits in his 4-cornered room,

Listening to tunes, and books he consumes.

Carefully learning and analyzing what he can use,

Finally realizing that humility is a bruise.

Scared love don’t make none,

If these walls could speak, they would peep about the fake ones.

Watching this man trying to build up a plan,

Underachieving just so he can understand.

And as he sits, he starts to contemplate,

Ain’t been high in a long time, maybe he should reintegrate.

Nah, if he still had that glass pipe, he would smash it and use it to slash his wrists,

But someone already beat him to it.

He would finger-paint a picture with his blood,

A self-portrait, dramatic and morbid.

Taps his foot to the rhythym of original sin,

Throws his balls to the wind, trying to knock down these pins.

Keeps on swingin’ from the hair growin out his chin,

Tryin to find his soul in the 50-cent bin.

But he’s still surrounded by the fire and the water,

Still got a restraining order against Satan’s daughter,

Still answering the questions you’re afraid to ask,

Still believing that God’s gonna save his ass.

Where in the World Have you Been?

OK, so it would appear that I broke the cardinal rule of blogging - I have not posted anything in almost 8 weeks.  Allow me to be the first to apologize for leaving you hanging for nearly 2 months, my friend.

And, to answer your question - no, I was not abducted by aliens, nor kidnapped by villanous pirates, nor anything else exciting.  Where I have been is actually very un-exciting.  As you may already know from reading previous blog entries, 2012 has been a difficult year for me thus far.  Through the loss of a loved one, various stresses and setbacks, and just the stress of life in general, I've needed a little of time to get my head clear.  Much of my attention has been focused upon preparing to go overseas, which will be the subject of this post.

This summer I have an amazing opportunity of going to the Solomon Islands with Discovery, a short-term missions program of Wycliffe Bible Translators.  Discovery will give me an opportunity to learn more about another culture, to see first-hand what’s involved in cross-cultural ministry, to learn about Bible translation and it’s support roles, to observe the use of media in overseas ministry, to see where I might fit in, and to figure out whether what’s been placed on my heart is something I could do long term.

This trip is scheduled for June 17 – July 31, during the Festival of Pacific Arts (FOPA).  Once in the Solomon Islands, I’ll spend my initial time in orientation, cross-cultural training, and some language learning.

The team will have a twofold focus.  Half of the members will be focusing on language work, and the other half will be focused on the use of ethno arts in worship.  My specific focus will be on using the “art” of radio broadcasting to spread and promote God’s Word.  We will be partnered with a radio station in the Solomon Islands, and I will be helping to record and produce interviews with locals, promotions of the FOPA, brief devotionals/testimonials, short Bible studies, and Scripture readings.  All of these will be done either in English or Solomon Islands Pijin, which is the lingua franca.  The team will also record and produce a DVD of the festival.  The final week, we’ll be traveling to Fiji where we’ll meet again as a team for debriefing and then travel home.

Before this trip can take place, I need to trust God to provide a team of financial partners who will stand with me.  The cost of the trip is $4675, which includes my room, board and international travel. I am expected to have half of the money by April 30 and the balance by June 3.  I will list the information for contributions below.

However, even though finances are very important, what I’ll need most are prayer partners.  One of my goals for this trip is to raise 26 prayer partners - one for each of the countries we'll be working with during the FOPA - to pray for a specific country.  If you would like to join my prayer support team, please contact me.

But also, I would like to ask for you to pray for me right now, before you even finish this letter. Please pray for God’s provision, for a safe trip, for my health, for me to go with a servant’s heart and have humility while in another culture, for the rest of the team, for the work we are planning to have an impact on the people of the Pacific, for peace of mind, and for discernment about whether this is something I’m being led to long term.

Thank you for praying for me. If you’d like more details about the trip, or if you would like to know more about how you can be involved with me in this opportunity, either through prayer or finances, please let me know.  And thanks in advance for the time and consideration that you’ve given to this request.

Sincerely His/yours,

Colin Schultz

Information for contributions:

If a donor wants to give by Mail, send donations to:

Wycliffe Bible Translators

Finance Coordinator

P.O. Box 628200

Orlando, FL 32862

Donor should include a note with their Name, Address and Phone number.  The note should also include my name, the phrase ‘Discovery – Solomon Islands’ and the Discovery account number of 990561.

Here is an example:

Donor Name: John Doe

Address: 742 Evergreen Terrace, Springfield, IL 12345

Phone: 123-456-7890

Donation for:  

Colin Schultz

Discovery - Solomon Islands     

Account Number: 990561

If a donor wants to give on-line, they must go to: www.wycliffe.org/supportteam

They should fill out the form like this:

            First Name:  Discovery

            Last name: Schultz

            Location: Discovery

            Account #: 990561

            Special Instructions: Colin Schultz + Discovery

All contributions by supporters are tax deductible.

A Goodbye for Pop

This blogpost is dedicated to one of the most loving men I have ever known - Sam Lanzarotta.

Pop with baby Carole



Actually, I didn't even know this man's real name until just a couple of years ago.  When I was growing up, he was known to me simply as "Pop."

I was not related to him in any way except for in spirit, yet I regarded him as an uncle or as a grandfather to me.

When my family lived in our first house, there was another family that moved in up the street from us named the Gedenbergs.  They were from New York, and when they moved to Boulder, our families became very close.

Debbie and Harry, the parents of the family, were my Godmother and Godfather who oversaw my baptism as a child.  They had 3 kids - Carol, Crissy, and Tommy.  Carol is 3 years older than I, Crissy is my same age, and Tommy is about 5 years younger.  My siblings and I became best friends with the kids in their family.  Crissy and my sister Caitlin would play real life "Mario Brothers," running up and down the street pretending to be jumping on goombas and eating "mushrooms" to grow in size; Carol and my sister Ashley would do...I don't know, whatever little girls do, and Tommy and I would run around the neighborhood causing mischeif, with my little sister Emily, who's around Tommy's same age, tagging along. 

I remember one time, Tommy and I got our hands on a whole large box of those snappers.  You know the kind, they're miniature novelty fireworks, and when you throw them at the cement ground or against a hard surface, they create a little explosion with a "pop" sound.  We spent some time throwing them at eachother's feet, and planting them behind car tires for people to think they had blown a flat tire when they backed out or their driveways, but after a while, we were searching for new and exciting things to do with them.  That was about the time that we noticed that the people across the street from the Gedenbergs had just had a brand new garage door installed with fresh white paint.  We decided it would be a good idea to dispose of the remainder of the snappers by hurling them against this new garage door.  After our arsenal was exhausted, the fresh white paint had been covered by hundreds of tiny little black marks.  Later that day, we were hanging out in the Gedenberg's kitchen when the lady from across the street came and rang the doorbell.  Debbie went and answered, and without any explanation of what we had done, the lady started screaming at her:
"YOUR SON IS BAD!  YOUR SON IS BAD!"
"I know!"  replied Debbie, who then had to spend some time calming this woman down before she could explain what we had done.  Let's just say throwing the snappers against that garage door turned out to be not such a good idea after all (but it was still great fun =))

Anyways, we spent a lot of time at the Gedenberg's house growing up.  Harry worked as a carpenter, and whenever he would work on a project at their house, he let us help out a little bit, a great way to learn some basics about construction.  He built a treehouse in their backyard where we spent a lot of time as well.  I also figured out that if you hung out at their house long enough, Debbie would decide you must be hungry and "force" you to eat some of her delicious cooking.  And, it was hanging out at their house where I first met Pop.

He was the kids' grandpa (Debbie's father), who lived in New York, and had come to visit.  The first time I met him, he had arrived with 2 suitcases - one with his clothes, toiletries, etc., and one filled with food from New York wrapped up in tin foil.  New York style pizza, hot dogs, lobster, k'nesh, and all sorts of other yummy treats came out of his "foodcase."

Pop with Emily

The Gedenbergs were (and still are) the only family from my childhood that we have kept in close contact with as we have all grown up.  Perhaps because of their duties as my Godparents, Debbie and Harry were always very good to me through a lot of the difficulties I went through growing up.  When my mom took off, Debbie would act as the mother I was missing whenever I saw her, always asking how I was doing and if I needed anything.

I didn't get to see Pop as often as I would have liked, but whenever I did, he treated me like his own grandson as well.  Pop had an air about him that made everybody relaxed and comfortable.  He was easy going, had a great sense of humor, always wore a smile, could make you laugh just by saying a few words, and he truly loved everybody around him.  He was a retired Electrician, but was not your typical "uneducated" blue collar working man.  Pop was very smart, and he asked how I was doing in school whenever I saw him.  He was a positive male figure in my life in the years when I needed one the most.

His birthname was Salvatore (Sam) Lanzarotta, but to me his true name was Pop.  Born in 1928, Pop grew up in Canarsie, New York, but spent his final years living in West Babylon, NY. 

On January 1st of this year, I received news that Pop had been admitted to the hospital.  The doctors had discovered a tumor on his hipbone, and in his advanced age, and somewhat weakened condition, it was too much for him.  After fighting hard against his sickness for a little over a month, Pop passed away late in the evening of February 4, 2012.  He was 83 years old.

He was the beloved husband of Antoinette, devoted father of Debbie and Rob, cherished grandfather of Tracy, Donny, Matteo, Carole, Crissy, and Tommy.  He also loved many nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends like me who regarded him as family, all by whom Pop is survived.

I received news of his passing just after I got out of church this past Sunday, and I was really shaken up over it.  I was hoping for the best when I heard he was sick, but knew he was up in years and his chances were lower, yet when I found out he was actually gone I didn't know how to react, it made me feel sick.  I'm just grateful that I have a few wonderful friends who I was able to talk to about it, and by the Grace of God, I continue on, looking forward to the day I will see Pop again in heaven.

Pop's wake was held this past Wednesday, February 8 at Noce Funeral Home in West Babylon, the funeral service was yesterday, February 9 at Our Lady of Miraculous Medal in Wyandanch, NY.

In conclusion, I would like to share some of the things people have written on Pop's facebook wall since his passing.  Reading these has made me realize how many more people than myself regarded Pop as part of their second family, as the grandpa or uncle they never had.  I only hope Pop knew how significant he was to so many.

"Rest in peace Uncle Sam Lanzarotta" - Camille R.R.

"He was a wonderful man, and will be remembered always as the sweet thoughtful man he was.  It was our pleasure to have known him." - Norma D.

"Sam was a kind, friendly gentleman.  A sweet man always with a smile on his face.  He will be missed by everyone that knew him especially by me.  Rest with the angels, Sam, they must have needed you." - Beverly F.

"Love you so much Pop.  I'm so happy I got to see you this Christmas, definitely the best present by far.  I miss you already, I'll miss your wonderful cooking and maybe Matteo and me will get married just for you ;).  See you in heaven one day, Pop, you were truly a wonderful man and I'm sorry if you didn't know how much I loved you when you were down here.  Don't have too much fun up there :)  Love you Love!" - Bonnie R.

"Missing you, Sam Lanzarotta.  You were the grandfather I never had and I love you so much.  Have fun up there and I'm excited for the day that I get to see you again." - Bonnie R.

"Love you, Pop!  Rest in Peace." - C-lin S.

"I know you will be watching us like the angel you were on earth.  Love you always and you have made my time in Long Island fun and full of memories.  Miss you, RIP." - Anna F.

"Love and miss you, keep watching over us!!!" - Francine M. S.

Pop with Seymour

Pop, Debbie, and Crissy

Pop

 

Rest in Peace, Pop.  I'm sorry that I never told you how much I love you when I had the chance.

 

In loving memory of Salvatore (Sam) Lanzarotta, AKA "Pop"
July 15, 1928 - February 4, 2012

A Letter for Three

2012 has been off to sort of a rough start for me.  Even though we are only a little over one month into the year, there have been certain difficulties I've already encountered this year which have been making things somewhat hard for me to get through each day.  I really hope the rest of this year is a little bit better to me, but for the time being, all of the things I've been going through have made me very introspective.

Through a lot of reflection on my past, my present situation, and the future I hope for, I have realized that there are 3 men who have and will continue to influence the man I am today and the man I hope to become in the future more than any one else.  These 3 men are my dad, myself, and the Lord Jesus.  By using one of my new favorite outlets for expressing my emotions, I have written the following "letter" to these men, and if I somehow had an opportunity to sit down and talk with all 3, the following is what I would feel like saying to them at the present time, in quasi-poem form.

Dear Jesus,
      I won't take up too much of Your time,
I know everyone in this world needs You, so that's fine.
Just gimme a second to empty my brain,
Before I hit the road again feelin like I've gone insane.
I've been readin about You Man, I'm amazed by You man,
You're workin on makin me the best man that You possibly can.
I know you understand my heart, and why I'm feelin down.
I also know You know how cold I feel when I think You're not around.
Sometimes I wonder what it's like to know You'll die at 33,
Sometimes I'd rather have that because I'm terrified to live to 60 if it's just gonna be me.
The fear gives me this pain in my stomache's pit,
And I start to think maybe that's my punishment.
For those nights I got drunk and let go,
And came back empty after lookin for a pot of gold.
Or for all the times that the fallenness of this place
Made me make my own plans to just try and escape.
I need a lot more patience, and I don't understand Your plan,
All I know is I need You to help me stand.
It trips me out how You've changed up all my traits,
From the way that I talk to the moves that I make.
I wanna be just like You, but there's still so much that needs a broom,
To sweep away all this mess I've made.  Did You really cry at Lazarus' tomb?
It brings tears to my eyes to think the One who was and is and will be,
Cares about the lives of ordinary people just like me.
I see the way they paint You, man I know You're not that frail,
You were strong enough to make all the temple merchants bail.
I don't know much when it comes to women,
I've learned to drive safe and slow, but still know nothin bout the engine.
Just keep it up, You're doin good Lord, that's all I really meant.
I love You, can't make it through without You.  Thanks for listening.

Dear Brad,
       What up yo?  How it goes?
Oh me?  Well you know, same old same old.
Sorry that my phone calls aren't too routine,
I'm just livin on this globe tryin to do my thing.
Sometimes the weeks fly by a little too fast,
Sometimes I go to sleep feelin kinda trashed,
Sometimes I'm not sittin on enough cash,
And sometimes today feels too much like the past.
Those times at night when I would watch y'all fight,
A child wondering why his life just aint all right.
What's this violence about?  Why's it in my house?
Even the memories are turned up too loud.
Yea there's lots of issues in my head,
And I didn't start fixin them back when she left us.
I'm not tryin to get you down, I know you're different now,
But this little man just wants you to listen now.
I'm approachin 30, can't maintain relations,
Seems like women just wanna hurt me and I just don't have the patience.
I can't get close to most, and those I can ain't much help,
Because they start to push and pull the buttons and I'm not sure I trust myself.
What that mix of loneliness, alcohol, and hormones might do,
Plus I'm afraid of my fate, don't wanna turn out like you.
But I've never hit a woman, and I don't get drunk,
And for that alone I love you and I wanna thank you, old man.

Dear Colin,
      What's goin on?  Not much to say.
Just checkin in with you tryin to see what's wrong today.
I know there's always something givin you bruises,
How's the love?  How's the schoolin?  How's the self-abusiveness?
You've got a lot to lose, it weighs down your shoulders,
And so you let your paranoia place your bets for ya.
Too many cigarettes, they've messed up your voice.
Too many arguments, they've tested your poise.
The only women that love you are friends and family,
Mom still gives you question marks, and friends leave you randomly.
No heavy rotation in any location,
When are you gonna face that you have no steady vocation?
10 years out of high school, and you still have no degree,
You've disappointed yourself, and people see you in a way that you just can't see.
Plus you're getting old and you're gonna get exhausted.
Stop it!  You make me think that you've lost it.
You're preachin for these people that you don't know,
When you should be at home mindin your own.
And then you're on the telephone,
Fightin for a girl
Like it's you against the world.
Sometimes you're not impressed with the work you've done,
And love isn't love if it doesn't hurt some one.
You still say "hi dad," dad still says "what's up,"
And I hope some day I can say "I love you,"
But for now all I can really say is "good luck."