...Blooming Most Recklessly...

2010-05-23T15:04:00.002-05:00

Dating, schmating...

2009-02-02T23:41:00.004-06:00

Yeah, well.

I have a long-standing love/hate relationship with the whole issue of dating. Historically, it's been: if I'm dating, I (mostly) love it; if I'm not, I (pretty much) hate it. Not so much anymore. Life has a way of changing the way you look at things.

I read the book "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" for the first time a very long time ago. Hated it. LOATHED it. Thought Joshua Harris was totally full of...THAT stuff. But I was married at the time. Married and full of that "I have someone now, so I feel bad that other people are struggling with this, but...good luck with it!" arrogance that married people seem to assimilate when they cross that no-longer-single threshold. Granted, Joshua Harris was very young and didn't know much about "real" relationships when he wrote the book, but...I was still arrogant. I disagreed with the concept of courtship and I laughed at people who thought it was THE answer.

Fast-forward a few years. I was divorced. My best guy friend, Chad, was also divorced and pursuing a relationship with someone. He read the book. Told me that I needed to read it again with new eyes and, since I usually listen to him when he tells me something's important, I bought a copy and followed his advice. Amazingly enough, it made a whole lot of sense to me...in a way it never did when I was married, because I was where I thought I would never again be: "back on the market". (It makes me cringe to even type those words.)

Now, mind you, I don't buy into the whole "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" philosophy, but I DO agree that the American version of dating is a pretty crappy way of doing business, especially for those of us who are coming at the process from the standpoint of a follower of Jesus. And that's especially true for those of us who are single-again. And don't even get me started on those "singles ministry" things that are nothing but meat markets for the so-called pious. Seriously. Don't get me started.

God really did a number on me last summer when he brought me to the place where I realized that my hope for a relationship had not been in HIM, but in hope itself. I said I believed in God's provision, but when he told me, clearly and distinctly, that I had to put "hope" on an altar and sacrifice it, I was devastated. I cried for days, because if I didn't have this hope, what did I have? MY answer to that question was "nothing". My dreams for the future were built around the strong hope that I had for God to provide my "soulmate" (or at least something close). My dreams weren't built around God. And he summarily knocked them all down with one fell swoop. My new directive: Be content, no matter what my situation (ie, relationship status).

All this to say: I hate the process. I hate the "let's get dressed up and pretend we're wildly funny and intelligent and amazing and fascinating" junk. That's not life. It's stupid and not what we're created for. There's nothing wrong with getting dressed up and having fun, but when it's nothing but a performance, it's just wrong. And we end up marrying someone we don't even know, because we think he/she is really the persona we're dating. It's a game. And I don't do games. Which is probably why I've not had a date in...well, a very long time. ;-)

I love those sweet, epiphanal moments when they happen. I had one recently. I was talking to a friend about how tough it is, no matter on which side of a relationship you find yourself, because neither place is the nirvana we all (on the other side) think it will be. My friend told me that she and her husband are best friends (he says the same thing--isn't that cool?) And I realized that's what I want. My heart's desire is a relationship where I wake up one morning and realize that I've fallen in love with my best friend...and not really know when it happened. No games, no show, no pretenses...no masks.

I'm no longer willing to settle for anything less. Which means I'm probably STILL not going to have a date in a very long time...and that's just fine.

25 Ties that Bind...

2009-01-31T11:07:00.003-06:00

It all started right here on the internet. On that marvelous little social networking site called Facebook. Someone (I don’t even remember which friend it was now) posted a note entitled “25 Random Things About Me” with instructions to write your own list of 25 random things about yourself and “tag” other friends, who in turn will make their own lists and pass it on to THEIR friends…and so on.

It started a firestorm. Every time I checked my new messages, someone else had written a list. And I would learn something I never knew about someone I may have known for YEARS (some of these people I’ve known since kindergarten--a really long time!!) I have friends who’ve done some pretty amazing things in their lives--gone on huge adventures, raised beautiful children, served as foreign missionaries, pastored churches, or battled life-threatening diseases and won the battle. I have friends whose lives have been more placid and less “exciting” but who’ve had strong influence for good in the lives of their children and the people around them. I’m really blessed with some incredible and diverse friends…all over the world.

I have some pretty incredible friends in my church family, too. As I read one friend’s list, though, I realized that I’d just learned more about him in 30 seconds of reading than I had learned in the past couple of years of “knowing” him from church. That’s sad. That's my family. God calls us a “body”. And if He calls us that, I know He expects us to act like one. To really know each other…and that means more than just knowing names and faces. Saying “good morning” as we pass each other on the way to our pew or shaking hands and hugging during “pass the peace” time isn’t all there is to it.

A body is…well, a BODY. Connected. Intertwined. The veins that carry oxygen through the bloodstream to feed cells in my fingertip are the same veins that carry the same oxygen down to my big toe. When someone steps on my foot, my nerve network alerts my entire body…and my entire body reacts to jerk my foot away from the pain. As a living representation of the body of Christ, as the hands and feet and voice of Jesus to this world and to each other, we carry that same responsibility to be connected and intertwined and inseparable from the people in that little “body” of believers we call our church family. When someone is hurting, our “nerve network” should be so attuned to that hurt that we instantly do what is required to alleviate the pain, just as we would instantly do what’s required to alleviate pain in our physical bodies.

I don’t necessarily need to know 25 random things about everyone in my local gathering of Christ-followers (although I wouldn‘t mind!), but I DO want to know my family better. And with that knowledge, I’ll know God better, too.

My encouragement for the day...

2009-01-13T12:41:00.001-06:00

...and any other day I'm feeling blah/purposeless/crabby/useless:

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion -- to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
- Isaiah 61:1-3

Happy 2009!!

2009-01-03T11:13:00.005-06:00

New Year's Eve at the Snyder home. It's always a crazy costume party. Theme for this year was: Christmas movie characters.

Christmas 2008

2009-01-03T10:01:00.009-06:00

Random stuff...

"The goodness of the Lord in the land of the living..."

2008-12-25T21:33:00.004-06:00

I'll spare you the gory details of my most recent pity party, which took place about 2 hours ago, but I WILL tell you what started it--and what ended it.

I came home from my family's Christmas celebration tonight, unloaded my bag of "goodies" and crashed on the couch. Alone. Just the cat and me, staring at my beautifully decorated, but now giftless tree, thinking about the day and what it means/doesn't mean (well, the cat was probably thinking about hacking up a furball or something, but *I* was, of course, thinking holy thoughts about the baby Jesus in his golden diaper. Or something similar.) ;-)

I've talked to so many people this Christmas season (including 4 yesterday) who are sad, depressed, disheartened, lonely, discouraged. It's tough, no matter what the reason, if you're alone on Christmas. It's tough for me. I mean, honestly, I would much rather come home and curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and someone I love than be sitting here by myself, fighting back those nasty, self-pitying tears. I'm human. I'm created for community and for relationship. I may be mostly "ok" with this ongoing, sometimes seemingly endless, season of singleness, but today, I DON'T like it one bit.

And then I got a phone call from a dear friend with whom I'd not spoken since...last April, I think. She was one of the long-term volunteers at God's Katrina Kitchen. An unlikely friend, because we have almost nothing in common except for the fact that we love God and were given the amazing privilege of serving the "marginalized" people along the post-Katrina Mississippi Gulf Coast. She and her husband have most recently been working with Hurricane Ike clean-up in the Galveston area.

The whole time we were talking, I was simultaneously mentally kicking myself for my big pity party and thanking God for providing a friend who felt prompted to call at the exact moment I really needed her. As we caught up on where our lives have taken us in the past 8 months, she shared a story about a time in her life when she felt the same way I'm feeling right now...she didn't blithely offer any of the stupid platitudes that make me want to slap people when the inane words come out of their mouths, nor did she jump in and wallow with me--she just told me that she understood how I felt and she knew that God would use this time for good, even though it might not seem good at the moment.

I know I'll see it someday. And that knowing makes being curled up on my couch alone tonight much more bearable.

Lesson learned...

2008-12-17T22:30:00.002-06:00

...again.

Life really does go on. And you can choose to sit, molding and petrifying on the sidelines, wrapped in the tattered shawl of the past, watching all those beautiful brave people out on the dance floor, enjoying themselves while you rot away in your misery...or you can leap right into the scary-as-hell fray and grab a little of the good stuff for yourself.

Case in point (not really what I'm talking about, but it's a good enough example): I fell on the ice today. I slipped on the second step on my front porch and bounced (really, I did) down the remaining three. I could've crawled right back into my house and stayed there until all the ice melted and the world was safe again, but I got up, laughed it off, brushed the ice off my butt, limped to my car and went back to work. I'm really sore. I'll be worse tomorrow. But the ice didn't win.

*I* am going to win this. I'm done with the sidelined, feeling-sorry-for-myself crap. Fear of the unknown is a lot better than living an empty life. Fear of the unknown is, actually, kind of exciting.

Game on.

Hiatus not of my choosing...

2008-12-11T23:19:00.002-06:00

Aside from the usual flurry of pre-Christmas activity, I've been plagued with a horrible cold that sidelined me for several days last week and has now turned into bronchitis. Per doctor's orders, I've been lying on the couch, doing NOTHING but resting, taking my meds and drinking gallons of water, addressing Christmas cards, and watching Season 2 of The Office.

I'm going to be out of town this weekend and I'm having a party at my house Monday night. Oh, well. I normally do a big thing for the Girls' Game Night Christmas party. Not this year. I'm thinking pizza. Or something else I can order from somewhere. The cooking thing is just not happening. This is a challenge for me--I've been spouting off about Christmas being more about spending time with our loved ones and less time/money on the insanity...now I get to put that into practice for real and all the little "Martha Stewart" cells in me are screaming in horror. Serves me right, eh? ;-)

Back to The Office. What a strange show. I can't honestly say I "like" it, but I'm drawn with a weirdly morbid fascination to each episode--I can't quit watching it. And I've even laughed out loud (well, as "out loud" as someone with bronchitis and laryngitis CAN laugh, that is!) a few times tonight. At the strangest things. Probably because it's a strange show and I'm...well, a little eccentric myself. I'm glad I finally gave into the pressure of my peers.

I'm working on a couple of posts that I hope to finish in the not-too-distant future. A man I deeply admired died last week and his death and funeral and the gaping crater he's left in the lives of many have affected me profoundly. God is challenging me to (even though I could never fill his shoes) step up to the plate and be what I profess to be. Not sure what that's going to look like right now.

The Griswold Family Christmas Tree in my living room (well, it's actually just a little Fraser Fir) either has the infamous squirrel hiding in it or an ornament is slipping off its branch--I hear strange noises emerging from it and the cat is sleeping peacefully on the back of the couch. Yep. The ornament just crashed to the floor. Good thing nothing is breakable on my tree.

And that's pretty much the scope of my wisdom for tonight. Too much "stuff" in my head for much deep thought.

When worlds collide...

2008-11-28T12:18:00.002-06:00

On most days, I thank God I don't have cable/dish/rabbit ears for my TV. I get along quite well, thank you, with watching a couple of shows online every week and keeping up with the major world events through Yahoo. And this time of year, most definitely, I'm especially grateful. I've been exposed to enough "Get up EARLY and don't miss the bargains!!" Black Friday commercials while at friends' homes the past couple of days to reassure me that I could live quite contentedly for the rest of my life without bringing any of that back into my peacefully oblivious existence.

I chose to participate in "Buy Nothing Day" today...a grassroots movement of sorts to attempt to take back this day from the mainline, media-driven, blindly-accepted, consumer insanity. While people are dying in the name of Black Friday bargains (yes, DYING--a WalMart employee was trampled to death early this morning in a 5:00 AM stampede) and getting injured, I stayed home, slept in, ate some Thanksgiving leftovers and started working through the backlog of snail mail/email/blog updates that have been piling up on me during the busy last couple of weeks.

And here's what I learned:

While people are mindlessly stampeding others for the sake of a $200 Xbox or an $800 50" plasma TV or an $88 Barbie Jeep or a $20 Hannah Montana beanbag chair, my C4C Disaster Relief (formerly God's Katrina Kitchen) friends Vickie, Vance and Ryan Weesner, Steve and Lezlie Anderson, and Mary Edna Thompson are serving those in Galveston who remain homeless after the devastation of Hurricane Ike (the mostly forgotten because politics were more important, but third most costly disaster in the US at $21 BILLION in losses). And Beverly Hayden, an amazingly talented lawyer-turned-photographer-turned-world-adventurer, is trampling through the garbage dump in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, handing out bread, apples, oranges, hugs, and love to the more than 300 hungry, sometimes naked and shoeless, beautiful children who live there in the midst of the stench and toxic waste.

A vast chasm between worlds, eh? One that leaves me feeling helpless and hopeless and broken and paralyzed...and wondering how the hell we got here. And if there's really a way to get out...or if it's too late to even have the smallest shred of hope that things can ever change.

Thanks, Alanis...

2008-11-18T18:57:00.003-06:00

She's certainly been my "soul sister" in the angry days--there's nothing better than cranking up SFIJ or Jagged Little Pill and singing out the rage. But. Alanis has a sweeter sound these days. Kinda grown up and content and peaceful...even when life hurts. Kinda blissful. That's where I am right now. And, even though I'm not in Cali, this song pretty much fits my mood right now...

"Giggling Again for No Reason"--Alanis Morissette

I am driving in my car up highway one
I left LA without telling anyone
There were people who needed something from me
But I am sure they’ll get along fine on their own

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

I am dancing with my friends in elation
We’ve taken adventures to new levels of fun
I can feel the bones are smiling in my body
I can see the meltings of inhibition

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

I’m reeling jubilation
Triumphant in delight
I am at home in this high five
And I’m smiling for no reason

I am sitting at the set of cali sun
We’ve gotten quiet for its’ last precious seconds
I can feel the salt of the sea on my skin
And we still hear the echoes of abandon

Oh this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I’m giggling again for no reason

Random gratefulness...

2008-11-16T23:07:00.002-06:00

...or maybe "gratefulness for random things". In my best Erin-esque form (meaning bulleted, because I love it when she does that). :-)

I spent the weekend at a church retreat. Not what I expected. Not really, even what I hoped for. But better than both. We talked a lot about what it means to be a "church" and a "family" and a "body". It would have been wonderful if more of our church family could have participated--many didn't, for a variety of reasons. But the ones who were there were changed...in small ways or big ways, but all in at least one good way, simply by virtue of the fact that we were acting like family. It was good.
At the retreat, I got to hang out a lot with one of my oldest, dearest friends in my church family. He's the one who invited us to the church to begin with. He's the one who got me involved in Godstock. He's the one who wouldn't let me disassociate myself from Godstock when I was in the middle of my divorce. He's the one who listened to me rant and rave, let me cry, cried with me, prayed with me...and mostly just listened and stuck right by my side when things were horrible and sad. Our lives have taken different paths and we rarely see each other outside of Sunday mornings anymore. But we sat and talked a lot this weekend and I loved it. He's a godly man who's full of wisdom, but his voice is quiet and his demeanor is unassuming...and people don't listen to him nearly as much as they should. I'm so glad I got the chance to sit down and listen (again) to his heart.
I'm cooking next weekend for a bunch of high school/college people. Which means I get to hang out with them. Which makes me feel young and hopeful. I love convo...and I especially love when it's at our church--it always helps me "see with eyes anew" to quote from my favorite Chad song.
I spent last weekend in Texas with Chad. I needed the time away. I needed the time with my friend who likes to think he's my big brother. Actually, *I* like to think that, too. I'm grateful for our long, LONG friendship...never picture-perfect (hey, it's us--how could it be?!), but precious and affirming (almost) always.
My job lately has been overwhelming and stressful and sometimes horrible, but I'm blessed to have a friend who understands and speaks peace and encouragement and integrity and desperately-needed laughter into my life and just diffuses all that stress and horribleness and makes it seem like nothing. Words can't express how grateful I am...I won't even try. It's beyond measure.
I'm warm tonight. I bought an old handmade quilt at an auction years ago, because I wanted something pretty to hang on the quilt rack my granddad made for me. I needed something warm to take to the retreat this weekend and couldn't find my blanket, so I grabbed this quilt instead. It kept me warm all weekend and I realized how silly it was for me to keep something "for show" when I could snuggle up in it and feel warm and comfy and happy. So, I'm all wrapped up in my "new" old quilt and I'm so happy and comfy, I may start purring any moment.

Reading between the poles...

2008-11-13T21:18:00.003-06:00

I've taken a little hiatus lately, because...well, because I really haven't had much to say, which is quite unusual. I took a small, much-needed vacation (really just a long weekend), have spent some time catching up on reading, and I've been working on "perfecting" my knitting skills (which will take a LONG time, since I'm still laboring over the first stitch I learned!)

When I got home Tuesday night, I had well over 100 unread emails in my inbox. I've been weeding through them, reading them a few at a time, and I'm finally caught up...that's a good feeling! As I was scrolling through the last of them today, something happened that made me stop in my tracks and really think.

I'm on an email list from Sojourners--a daily message containing a Bible verse pertaining to social justice and a thought-provoking quote from someone on poverty, justice, peace, etc. The email also contains ads for various Sojo publications, mostly small studies designed for home groups on a variety of socially just subjects. Today's email had an ad for a study on Christians and nonviolence (a subject near and dear to my heart right now, as I explore what it means to be a pacifist in the gun-toting, blow-'em-all-to-hell atmosphere in which our country seems to have found itself lately) and a study called "A Vision for Overcoming Poverty", also a subject I tackle every day--both in my workplace and out in the "real world".

Those subjects inspire me. To think less of myself and more of others. To do more than think. To give up that new movie/pair of earrings/book/coat and act more like the woman I say I am...that one who understands what being a "community" or "body" means, the one whose heart breaks at the thought of people going hungry or not having warm clothing for winter and shares what I have with someone else instead of thinking of my own selfish "wants". I stopped to remember how incredibly blessed I am here in my beautiful little warm house with plenty of food to eat and warm clothing to keep me toasty on cold days. I'm not "wealthy" by the standards of this country, but I'm blessed with more than enough.

And then I clicked to the next email. From MarthaStewart.com. An article, complete with beautiful photos of beautiful food, telling me how to have the most lavish Thanksgiving dinner yet. And decorate my whole house for the occasion with candles and gorgeous (expensive) fabrics and turkey-patterned china and all that good stuff.

Wow. What a contrast. Polar opposites.

My pastor is the former executive director at a not-too-distant rescue mission/homeless shelter. I read "Under the Overpasses" daily. The best thing I've ever done in my life is cook and serve meals to hurting people at God's Katrina Kitchen. For a moment, I pictured the two worlds colliding...perfectly coiffed and polished Martha serving turkey and all the fabulous trimmings on her beautiful china to the men and women at the Mission. Or under the big tent in Gulfport. One of those pendulum swing things...where do we find the balance? I refuse to stop believing that, as Shane says, "another world is possible". It's all around us. But unless we take at least ONE step in that direction, we will never make it.

But the poles are magnets. And somewhere, right in the middle, isn't there a spot where the two magnetic forces, working against each other, will hold a piece of metal in delicate, tenuous balance? That's what I want to see. I want to hang in that balance. Anyone else?

Don't feed the trolls...

2008-11-01T10:34:00.004-05:00

...ahh, but it's SO tempting!!

In the past couple of weeks, someone with whom I'm (MOST unfortunately) acquainted but have never (thankfully--and let's keep it that way!) met face-to-face has been posting anonymous ugly, hateful, vengeful, rude comments on the blogs of people whom I love. I was also the victim of Madame Troll's vitriolic spite awhile back.

I guess I shouldn't be amazed that someone who claims to be a believer and spouts scripture to "back up" her crazy-ass rants ("crazy" being the key word here) would waste so much time (even as she accuses other people of wasting time online) attacking people who are "bad" solely by virtue of association.

My natural reaction is to go on the defensive and fight back. I guarantee if it's a battle of words, I'll win, because I know a lot of them...and I can use them well. But is that productive? And does that not put me right in the same category in which I've put her? And maybe worse, because she is, without doubt, suffering from some sort of mental illness--no one in their right mind behaves in such an atrocious manner.

I've never been a fan of the whole "WWJD" thing, because I'm never a fan of mass-produced crap, especially not crap that's supposed to "spread the gospel". Whatev. But in this situation, I have to stop and think about it. How would Jesus, if he had a blog, react in the face of such undeserved hatred? It's not in me to love this woman. It's not really even in me to have the slightest bit of compassion for the obviously wretched life circumstances in which she's found herself (self-created or not).

But God surely has some compassion and love reserved just for her...maybe someday she'll find the person in whom it's been placed. And maybe I can take a miniscule step (not even really a step--maybe just a VERY slight leaning) in that direction by not following the basic instinct I have to invite her to fully engage in battle with me.

This is NOT what I want to do, mind you. But, for the moment, I'm choosing to take the higher ground and give her that "grace of free will" that my beautiful and oh-so-wise girl wrote about here. It's tough, sometimes, to be a lover of God.

Oprah and I...

2008-10-25T10:08:00.003-05:00

...have something in common. :-)

I've recently discovered Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, an amazing line of "aromatherapeutic" cleaning products--mostly natural ingredients (no ammonia or chlorine--yay!), biodegradable/environmentally friendly, no nasty anti-bacterial chemicals, and fragranced by essential oils.

I bought some of the basil-scented laundry detergent and all I can say is, I'm in love.

I've always thought it was silly for people to sit around discussing the finer points of cleaning products, so I'll just tell you that this detergent makes my whole house smell good--having a load of laundry on the drying rack is like burning a basil candle. And my clothes smell great!

When I told my mom about it, she informed me that Oprah uses this product line and talks about it on her show "all the time" (I find it funny to think that Oprah is one of "those" people who sits around discussing the finer points of cleaning products...).

It's good to know that Oprah has such good taste... ;-)

I'm a student!

2008-10-20T22:56:00.003-05:00

I'm taking a photography class...and I'm pretty excited about it.

Tonight was the first class of an 8-week mini-semester. Dr. Scott talked mostly about terms that will be important to know as we discuss how cameras function. Tonight was a lot of technical stuff, which is exactly what I need to know. I have this amazing camera that I know can do some pretty amazing stuff in the right hands (its former owner was a wedding photographer) and I need some outside influence to get me disciplined enough to learn the "techy" stuff so I can make the artistic images I want to do.

I even have homework. I haven't had homework for 20 years. And, as some self-imposed "extra credit", I also have a really cool book on using light that Peck gave me to read. I AM going to learn this. And, after I learn this, I'm going to learn how to use PhotoShop--I have CS3 and haven't taken time to read ANY of the tutorials yet, so when I open it, it's like trying to read Swahili.

I know I can only rely on my artistic/creative nature so far--at some point, I've got to learn the technology so I can take full advantage of my creativity. I "see" shots all the time--I'm constantly framing things in my head, but when I don't know how to change my settings to take full advantage of lighting, etc., I'm doing a huge disservice to myself. So, I'm going to learn it.

"Andrew Peterson is my friend"...

2008-10-19T13:47:00.004-05:00

I have one of those shirts. One of those OLD shirts from back in the day. Back when Andy looked like he was about 15 years old but was singing "old soul" songs--the words coming out of his mouth never looked like they matched with the boyish face.

He's still singing the songs of an old soul. And though he doesn't look "old", he does finally look grown up, so the lyrics aren't quite so incongruous with the face anymore.

Andy and I aren't really "friends" in the way I define friendship, even though I have a shirt that says he's my friend. I could count on one hand the times we've had "real" conversation. But he knows my name and, obviously, I know his. Our paths don't cross much--every couple of years or so at a show and we chitchat a bit. I baked him my famous chocolate cake once. And I think I made a lemon tart for him several years ago. (I know how artists are normally fed by their venues when they're out on the road.) And I'm pretty certain that if he and Jamie and their children lived in this town, we would be "real" friends--I know they would fit in perfectly with my little gang of ragamuffinish friends.

I'm holding a copy of his new CD in my hot little hands right now. (Well, not while I'm typing, but you get the idea.) I listened to it all day Friday. And I'm convinced all over again that Andrew Peterson is a genius. And by "genius", I mean "he writes songs that I understand". Songs that tear my heart out. Songs that remind me that, when no one else does, God understands.

Here's the song that I've played over and over and over the past couple of days. This is SO where I'm at right now. It always seems that when I think I'm finally getting myself back together, God shows me just how NOT together I am. The past year has been much harder on me than I've been thinking it was. But that's another blog post for another day...for now, I'll let Andy tell the world how I've been feeling. I'm glad he's my "friend". :-)

"I've Got News"--Andrew Peterson

So you think I'm something special, like I know a thing or two?
Like my eyes don't ever wander, like my aim is always true?
So you think I'm not a dirty rotten scoundrel through and through?
Lady, I've got news for you.

So you think that you're the only one to cry yourself to sleep?
That you're the only one who's scared they all forget you when you leave?
So you think that you're the only one whose heart is black and blue?
Listen, I've got news for you.
I might as well just tell you that it's true: listen, I've got news for you.

So you think you don't need anyone to love you?
So you think you don't need anyone to love? But you do.

So you say there is no hope. Maybe God is dead and gone.
So you think that he can't break a heart that's harder than a stone?
So you feel so wrecked and dirty, he could never make you new?
Man, have I got news for you.
I'm so compelled to tell you that it's true, so true: listen, I've got news for you.

I've got good news for you.

My love/hate relationship with FaceBook...

2008-10-14T00:24:00.003-05:00

Unless you're my blog's RSS Feed Reader on FaceBook, this is a pointless post. I moved the RSS Feed box from the Boxes page to the Wall page and now it won't display until the application updates itself. So...I'm posting something to get it to do just that.

Technology just irritates me sometimes.

When the boss is away...

2008-10-13T14:29:00.002-05:00

...the sluggards will play. No...make that SLUGS.

Before I left for the weekend, I got all the laundry washed and hung up on the drying rack in my laundry room.

When I went to collect said laundry for folding today, I noticed something shiny on the first shirt I picked up. And then saw that same shiny stuff on every piece of clothing hanging on the rack.

Every shirt was covered with the snot-trail of a nasty, slimy slug. That is about the single-most disgusting thing I've ever encountered. If you know me, you know that I LOATHE slugs...the thought of one of them in my house sends me into near-hysteria. It's really almost worse, I think, than the time I found the snakeskin on the closet shelf right after we moved into my previous house.

And the worst thing is, I've re-washed all the laundry, swept, vacuumed and mopped the laundry area of the room, but I STILL can't find the icky, slimy slug. I hope it crawled under the washing machine and died. Or maybe the cat ate it. I've moved the drying rack to the kitchen and am praying that I don't find more trails when I get home tonight.

Y.U.C.K.

Oh, people...please!!

2008-10-13T13:49:00.002-05:00

I'm not posting the video OR a link to this because I flatly refuse to perpetuate the spread of utter nonsense, but if you really want to see it, do a search.

Someone sent me a link to a video on GodTube--it's a 2 minute clip of a microphone-clutching toddler, stomping about the stage at a church, waving his arms and shouting angry-sounding baby-talk gibberish.

People in the "audience" are clapping and cheering and shouting and (it may be the wielder of the video camera), you can hear a woman saying "thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus" over and over, as if this little knee-biter is actually preaching the Word.

There are about 70 pages of comments attached to the GodTube page. Some people think it's really cute and hilarious (I found nothing amusing about it at all and I love kids). Some found the video "disturbing" because the kid: 1) sounds angry or 2) is "entertaining" a crowd and disrupting a church service. And a lot of people (like me) found the whole thing disturbing not because of the child, but because of the crazy reactions of people who were posting responses to the video.

Aside from the semi-normal people who said it was better for the kid to be mimicking a preacher than a foul-mouthed rap singer (the anger level seems to be about the same as some of those "bad" rap singers I've heard, though), many people took it a step further and quoted scriptures and said this was fulfillment of prophecies about children leading in the last days. And then there were those "out there" people who swear the kid is speaking in tongues.

Out of a somewhat morbid fascination, I read about half of the pages before I got fed up and quit. It WAS quite interesting, though, to read the "people, if you really believed in God and were filled with the holy spirit, it would be blatantly OBVIOUS to you that this baby is saying: blah, blah, blah..." I think I read about 5 of those posts. And each one translated the "obvious" as something com-plete-ly different.

Don't get me wrong--I'm pretty sure God can do anything he wants. But. I think we as believers spend way too damned much time looking for demons lurking under every rock or "prophetic words" or gold dust or whatever, instead of setting ourselves to the task ALWAYS at hand, which is to just simply love God and let him love people through us. Certainly not glamorous, usually not very exciting, but it's WAY cooler in the end than listening to a toddler act like an angry, hate-spewing pastor.

A moment of pure, unadulterated clarity...

2008-10-10T18:11:00.002-05:00

...in the midst of the murkiness of my life.

See, I've been (mentally/emotionally) chasing this thing. This thing that I've been telling myself would make me happy. Not solve all my problems, and, in fact, would add a "whole 'nother" layer of...well, issues, at least, if not all-out problems, to my life. But I've had myself convinced that this is what I wanted. Needed, even.

It's really a beautiful, good thing. The idea of it makes me smile. Makes me almost giddy at times. But would it make me happy? I've told myself and others that it would. I've chased it for so long, I feel like King Pellinore on his endless search for the Questing Beast. It's been a delightful hunt, what? (Read "The Once and Future King" if you want to chase down that obscure reference.)

So. Moment of clarity. Curtains pulled back. Daylight pouring in. Dispersing shadows. This thing is NOT for me. It absolutely will not bring me happiness. And now, with all this light pouring in, I'm taking a good look at my heart...and I'm realizing that, somewhere deep inside, I knew it all along. And you know what? This isn't another one of those "kill your hope on the altar" kinds of things like I went through a month or so ago. This is just another step toward authenticity. It doesn't hurt. In fact, I laughed out loud when I saw how clear it was.

Maybe when you let go of things that aren't really yours to claim, it opens the door to what really COULD be. Guess we'll see.

Not sure it fits, but I've had Andrew Peterson's "The Chasing Song" on my mind since my little epiphany, so I'm sharing it.

The Chasing Song
Words and music by Andrew Peterson

Now and then these feet just take to wandering
Now and then I prop them up at home
Sometimes I think about the consequences
Sometimes I don't
Well, I realize that falling down ain't graceful
But I thank the Lord that falling's full of grace
Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus
And you know that's all it takes

Well I wish that I could say
that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving

'Cause Job, he chased an answer
The wise men chased the Child
Jacob chased her 14 years and he
Captured Rachel's smile
Moses chased the Promised Land
Joseph chased a dream
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

Well, they say a race can only have one winner
And you know you've got to pull out front to win
God knows the only time I'm winning
Is when I'm chasing Him

Well I wish that I could say
that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving

'Cause Samson chased a woman
and he chased the Philistines
I'm not quite sure what Jonah chased
But I know he caught the sea
Cain, he chased the harvest
While Abel chased the beasts
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

And Jesus chased the moneymen
And he chased his Father's will
He chased my sin to Calvary
And he caught it on that hill
Saul, he chased the Christians
Till his blindness made him see
David, he chased God's own heart
All I ever seem to chase is me

Tending to my knitting...

2008-10-10T00:45:00.002-05:00

...because I'm not really up to tending to anything else right now.

I did some "real" knitting tonight. Several rows, as a matter of fact. It took me quite awhile, but I was actually starting to feel somewhat comfortable with it. I'm quite proud of my accomplishment, small though it is.

Knit one, purl two...

2008-10-08T00:21:00.002-05:00

...or something like that.

I am mastering the art of casting on. I really want to learn to knit. I made a half-hearted attempt last winter, but never really got further than having 3 people show me how to cast on and making a few knotty, messy attempts. So I gave up.

But I still want to learn. So, I found a website tonight and got out the lovely fuschia knitting needles and tried again. It actually doesn't look too bad, considering it's my real first attempt.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try the purl thing.

And someday...someday, I'll have my very own hand-knitted blanket.

No more politics...

2008-10-06T23:37:00.002-05:00

...after this. ;-)

Disclaimer--I did NOT compose this...

2008-10-03T18:33:00.003-05:00

...nor do I (completely) agree with everything the author (Matt Taibbi, published in Rolling Stone) says. But. It makes me think. And that's what we should ALL be doing, instead of allowing ourselves to be blindly led to-and-fro by media frenzy. If you've talked to me at all, you're probably well aware that I am NOT a Palin-for-VP fan. She may be just lovely as a person, as a soccer mom, as a smalltown mayor, and maybe even as a governor, but she is NOT vice-presidential material. What I saw of the debate last night pretty much sealed that for me.

Let's not be swayed by emotion, people. I'm hoarse from yelling correct pronunciations at the poor woman. And I'm not a professional speaker, but when I DO speak in public, I do my best to lay off the droppin'-my-Gs-at-the-end-of-my-words so I don't sound like a complete dumb-ass hick. Of course, that might have been just the population she was gunnin' for last night. ;-)

Anyway...here are the excerpts from the piece by Taibbi:

"Here's the thing about Americans. You can send their kids off by the thousands to get their balls blown off in foreign lands for no reason at all, saddle them with billions in debt year after congressional year while they spend their winters cheerfully watching game shows and football, pull the rug out from under their mortgages, and leave them living off their credit cards and their Wal-Mart salaries while you move their jobs to China and Bangalore.

And none of it matters, so long as you remember a few months before Election Day to offer them a two-bit caricature culled from some cutting-room-floor episode of Roseanne as part of your presidential ticket. And if she's a good enough likeness of a loudmouthed Middle American archetype, as Sarah Palin is, John Q. Public will drop his giant sized bag of Doritos in gratitude, wipe the sizzlin' picante dust from his lips and rush to the booth to vote for her. Not because it makes sense, or because it has a chance of improving his life or anyone else's, but simply because it appeals to the low-humming narcissism that substitutes for his personality, because that image on TV reminds him of the mean brainless slob he sees in the mirror every morning.

Sarah Palin is a symbol of everything that is wrong with the modern United States. As a representative of our political system, she's a new low in reptilian villainy, the ultimate cynical masterwork of puppeteers like Karl Rove. But more than that, she is a horrifying symbol of how little we ask for in return for the total surrender of our political power. Not only is Sarah Palin a fraud, she's the tawdriest, most half-assed fraud imaginable, 20 floors below the lowest common denominator, a character too dumb even for daytime TV – and this country is going to eat her up, cheering every step of the way."

Worth quoting...

2008-09-28T00:30:00.001-05:00

...from Under the Overpasses, one of my favorite blogs right now:

"I was married to fundamentalism until I cheated. I had an affair with God and everything changed."

The stuff that matters...

2008-09-25T23:35:00.004-05:00

Okay, so I'm excited about the prospect of the Cubs winning a World Series Championship for the first time in 100 years. BUT. It's. only. baseball.

I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.

Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.

"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.

All together now...sing with me!! :-)

2008-09-25T23:22:00.001-05:00

If you've not heard the news...

2008-09-22T21:21:00.002-05:00

...the Cubs clinched the division title Saturday!! :-)

Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.

This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.

Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!

I. AM. EXCITED.

Order...

2008-09-20T23:43:00.002-05:00

...what a beautiful thing.

I spent a large part of today entirely gutting my closet and dresser drawers. I always dread the task, but once it's done, I'm supremely glad I've done it.

I instituted a new "life rule" earlier this year--I decided that if I hadn't worn something for a year, unless I had a really good reason, it was going O-U-T. The 14 Rubbermaid RoughTotes on my porch, filled with clothes I'll never wear again but held onto for years, are testament to the reason for the rule.

So. I was tough. I have tees in every shade of the rainbow (thanks to Kohl's) and they look really nice in my closet when they're all in rainbow order like they should be. But. I think I wore maybe 3 of them this summer. Onto the "toss" pile they went. All but 4 of them. (#4 fell into that "good reason" category.) :-)

I threw out shoes I haven't worn in years...and now I have room for the ones I do wear. I kept the snowboots...probably just wishful thinking! Those cute little orange sequined flip-flops...come on. They were cheap, they ARE cute, but they hurt like hell every time I wear them (which has been maybe twice). All that foot surgery didn't do anything to make wearing cheap shoes feel any better. Oh well.

And then I moved on to the dresser. Out went socks and underwear. And more t-shirts. And everything went back into the drawers in my feel-good rainbow order.

My laundry is all done. My sheets are clean. Everything is in order. NOT the way I really like spending my Saturdays (really, I need a housekeeper, if I could just afford it, because I want to play on my day off), but I feel good. Satisfied. Organized. In order (rainbow, that is). Ready to face a chaotic world again.

Maybe I'll tackle the bookshelves tomorrow...

Montana, Take 2...

2008-09-14T23:05:00.006-05:00

Here are some shots from my recent little adventure to Montana/Canada with my mom and my aunt. I'm still mulling over some things, trying to put the words together in some semblance of coherency, but it's just not really happening. So, I'll do the photo thing for now.

He says my name...

2008-09-13T14:44:00.005-05:00

I have a friend who, in the course of every conversation we have, never fails to call me by my name--at least once, usually several times.

We've been friends a long time. We've walked through a lot of tough stuff and heartache together. He knows me...more than just the good stuff, more than just the "surface me"--he knows my shortcomings and stumblings.

And I feel the full weight of that knowledge--and his acceptance of and care for me, even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly--in the kindness of his tone and in the strength of my name as it rolls off his tongue. He says my name. He knows my heart.

He encourages me, because he's full of character and integrity and honor and God--he exemplifies all those good, godly characteristics...and rarely does he waver.

And when he says my name, it resonates with the strength of those traits and always reminds me that God knows my name and my heart and my shortcomings...and yet He never wavers in his love for me--even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly.

My friend speaks my name with kindness and caring and knowledge...and that one word echoes back to me the deeper, stronger voice of God.

He says my name. He knows my heart. He loves me.

A brief hiatus...

2008-09-12T00:31:00.002-05:00

I just got home from a whirlwind trip to Montana on the train--I took my mom and my aunt to Glacier. Two days out on the train (3o+ hours), 3 days there (one in Canada), and 2 days home. I'm tired. Exhausted really. But feeling inspired.

I wrote a blog post on the back of an envelope while I was on the train. As soon as I can get it sorted out and typed, I'll post it.

I just finished reading "Jesus for President". It's lit a fire under me again. Not sure why I always have to be the weirdo who gets inspired by the "out there" stuff (which is not really all that "out there" when held up to the light/life of Jesus, but...).

I have some cool "social justice" project ideas for my church. Can't wait to share them with our pastor...he came straight from a homeless ministry to be our pastor, so he and I are pretty close to being on the same page on a lot of issues. I like that.

I just realized that every paragraph starts with "I"...and I wanted to add one more. ;-)

Stupid baseball...

2008-09-03T00:11:00.004-05:00

(BIG sigh)

The BEST team in Major League Baseball has now lost 4 games in a row. Fortunately, Milwaukee and St Louis are on the same losing trend. My Cubbies are still in first place, have still won more games than any other MLB team and are still 10 games ahead of their arch-rivals (ha!), the Cardinals, but...

I'm ready for a WIN!! Or, quite a few, actually. This is no way for the future 2008 World Series champs to be acting right now.

Just had to vent... ;-)

Grateful...

2008-09-02T00:05:00.002-05:00

...that Gustav is history.

...that Gulfport wasn't hit as hard as was initially predicted.

...that the levees in New Orleans have held so far.

...that people I know were making plans to head to the coast to help if needed.

...that people I DON'T know were doing the same.

...that I saw some very familiar places along Highway 90 on The Weather Channel.

...that I was able to feel "connected" all day, thanks to the wonders of technology.

Hurricane Gustav update...

2008-08-30T23:13:00.002-05:00

New Orleans is now under a mandatory evacuation order. Hotels in the city are being closed; the airport closes at 6 PM tomorrow.

Gustav went from being a tropical storm to a Category 4 hurricane in less than 24 hours. It's expected to become a Category 5, possibly by tomorrow evening. That means winds over 155 miles per hour.

I read a comment from someone who believes this could be worse than Katrina. Not sure what there is to back that up besides fear, but...if it's true, well, I just don't even want to think about it.

Because I still remember miles and miles of this:

Not-so-happy anniversary...

2008-08-29T23:35:00.005-05:00

Today is the third anniversary of the day Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on the Gulf Coast.

And what are we doing? We're watching Hurricane Gustav bearing down on a shoreline just starting to wear some semblance of "normal".

My dear friend John is taking a group of 30 people back to the Gulfport area in October...to continue the rebuilding process. After three years...

And now, of course, I'm wondering if we're just going to be starting it all over again.

If you're a praying person, this might be a good time to practice.

It's PAC-MAN!!!!

2008-08-28T18:27:00.001-05:00

Look at the pie. Seriously. I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how much I'm loving this.

Fiery destruction and regrowth...

2008-08-23T10:35:00.003-05:00

I know I've been mostly silent since I returned home from Montana...I've been thinking. A lot. This trip changed me. I know every moment we live is a change from what the last moment was, but...this is something else. Or maybe I just have more of an awareness of the change now. No. I'm different. I know that.

Most of it goes beyond words...it's just a sense in my spirit that things will never be the same. If you asked me for details and I trusted you completely, I still wouldn't be able to vocalize some of it. And I've tried. The words somehow get stuck in one of those synaptic paths and never make it out my mouth.

But I DO have stories to tell. And some of them, like this one I'm "fixin" to tell, will eventually be told. I've learned that when I hear or read something more than once in a short span of time, it's usually something of which I should take note. This is something I heard twice in 3 days while I was at Glacier...with some of my own perspective thrown in, of course.

Forest fires destroy thousands of acres of trees each year. Over 5000 acres burned in the Skyland Fire, right outside of Glacier Park, last summer. There are an average of ten fires per year, usually small and quickly contained, inside the park. If a forest fire starts by natural means (lightning strike), the National Park Service policy is to allow it to burn itself out. If they determine it was started by human error/intention/etc., they will take steps to put it out.

Lodgepole pine trees grow in abundance in Montana. They are tall and beautiful...and if you look carefully, they are often towering above burned stumps remaining from old forest fires. And that is because...

The pinecones of the lodgepole pine tree are coated in a dense resin. So dense that the seeds don't release unless the resin is melted away so the cone can open. Melted by high heat. From a forest fire. When the fire burns the existing trees, the resin melts, the pinecones open, the seeds release and...the "circle of life" begins again.

Hmm. So, God has a plan. And even when that original plan is thwarted, there's a perfect "back-up" plan already in place. Kind of echoes the creation/fall/redemption story, doesn't it?

And, of course, I bring this all down to a personal level as well. I've had several "firestorms" in my life. I've set some of those fires myself. Others, I guess, you could say were "natural"...or at least not of my own making--I was just in the path of the blaze...the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time. Some of them burned their way through my life and extinguished themselves when there was nothing left to be burned. Others were put out by people who care, people who put themselves in the fire's path to help me.

But no matter the cause, the fires burned. Burned away things/people/ideas/attitudes I held dear...or at least held onto. And I was left semi-standing--a burned-out, smoking stump...a barely-recognizable remnant of what I once was. Dead. In the middle of a charred field. A blackened field full of...newly-released-from-melted-resin seeds ("forged in the fires of Mt. Doom" for you LOTR people--don't you love my randomosity?!). Fresh starts. Unexpected potential. The blessing of a clean slate and a new day.

And once again, I'm reminded that change, even that change forged by fire, is a gift. Part of the plan. A page in my redemption story.

Such a little word...

2008-08-19T00:16:00.007-05:00

...to be causing such a struggle for me.

TRUST–noun
1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.
2. confident expectation of something; hope.

I read this definition and it makes perfect, logical sense. And then I turn around to see how this fits into where I am right now and it all falls apart.

I wrote a few weeks ago about having faith in a God that I can't see...and now I'm struggling with trusting that same God. If I really have the faith I say I have, why doesn't trust automatically follow?

I can pick this definition apart and fully agree that I can rely on the integrity, strength and ability of God. And I DO, indeed, have confident expectation and hope of...well, something. I guess it comes down to the fact that I trust what *I* think is best for me more than I trust the great unknown of what's behind door number one in the mystery of whatever God's thinking.

I know this sounds crazy, but I have to sacrifice my hope. I'm seeing, with some clarity, that my trust, my "confident expectation of something" has been in myself. My hope hasn't been in God...it's been hope that God will give me what I want. It's WAY too similar to some of that "your best life now, name it and claim it" prosperity BS. I've always found a way to justify it because my dreams aren't for financial riches--my dearest dreams are, for the most part, cloaked in really good, unselfish intentions. But now I'm seeing that, if I'm really going to trust God, it requires laying those things (and one especially) down...tying them up on an altar, actually, and taking the knife to them. Sounds pretty morbid, doesn't it?

So...I'm honestly not sure where I go from here. On the surface, it's an easy answer. An obvious one. But when it's the thing you hold most dear--the most treasured, precious, beautiful hope you currently possess--and you see that God may choose to NOT provide another lamb for the sacrifce and hand your dream back to you, well...I'm not there yet.

The song I'm loving right now...

2008-08-18T13:14:00.002-05:00

You're Beautiful--
James Blunt

My life is brilliant.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face
that I was flying high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.

There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.

On a reading binge...

2008-08-17T00:53:00.002-05:00

I've finished The Shack.

I'm still thinking about it. Trying to process it all. If I've talked to you lately, you probably know that this book, combined with some other things that have been going on in my world, has brought to the point of near-meltdown. I don't think the book itself would've had that much effect on me, since much of it lines up with the direction in which my thoughts have been heading for the past couple of years, but combined with the other "stuff"...well, let's just say I've spent the last week either in tears, near tears, or in complete emotional shutdown to avoid the possibility of tears.

I need to chew on it all some more. And maybe I can come back with something readable. Well, something I'm comfortable with posting here, anyway.

And now, I'm reading Rob Bell's Sex God again. In a weird way, the two completely fit together--it makes perfect sense for me to be reading them back-to-back. I think I'll be able to glean more from the re-read now.

It's kind of strange...I have so much that I'd like to write about, but I sit here and look at the screen and NOTHING comes out. Someday, though...

Correspondence with the cat...

2008-08-17T00:40:00.003-05:00

Dear Pissy:

I've just spent 2 hours vacuuming my niture. Take note of the fact that there is no fur. Frankly, I would like to keep it that way.

Love,
Me

Dear keeper of the cathouse:

Fat chance of that. And who is this Frank Lee person? Please don't discuss our personal issues with strangers.

Paws and kisses,
Lady Pissy of Hairball Castle

Women of hope, women of change...

2008-08-16T10:41:00.001-05:00

...if you're feeling helpless, help someone.

GOOD counsel.

Beautiful messy truth...

2008-08-13T23:23:00.003-05:00

...from a guy who runs a homeless shelter and blogs here:

The real world keeps on spinning and our lives continue to unfold. Life is not like a television drama or a novel with tidy resolutions that pull everything together at the end. We do not have the luxury of living happily ever after or being damned for good at the final page. Each day is another page in the story. There is failure, relapse, redemption and hope lurking on the horizon. That is bad news. That is good news. It means I cannot tidy up a person’s story and give it the permanent, Christian fairy tale ending. It also means I cannot write anyone off as beyond hope. Once I do either of those things, it will be time to turn the page and be surprised again. It is both a blessing and a curse to have the longevity in this business that I have. Most people do not get to stick around long enough to see redemption take place. Most people do not stick around long enough to see the sure thing unravel. Real people live real lives of not so real permanence.

Shacking up...

2008-08-06T23:53:00.002-05:00

Ok, for those of you who keep asking...I FINALLY bought "The Shack" today and I'm heading to bed right now to start reading. :-)

Tears and laughter...

2008-08-02T20:34:00.002-05:00

The music is loud and the crowd at the bar tonight is raucous. I'm a stranger here...and that's ok--it's easier for me to just sit back and watch people than try to shout over the top of loud music.

He's a friend of a friend...and he's enjoying himself. His face is careworn and grizzled, but his eyes snap with mischief and he laughs loudly--it's contagious. He greets the women with hugs and kisses and dance offers and the men with an invitation to a game of pool.

Our eyes meet across the room and he dances my way, waving the pool cue to clear a path and bows deeply when he finally stands in front of me. He offers to buy me a beer and asks me why I'm so serious. I smile and he tells me I need to laugh more. He begs for, and gets, a kiss on the cheek for luck in his next pool game and tells me he'll buy me a drink if my kiss brings him victory in the game.

He wins. And buys himself another drink to celebrate. He plays another game and loses. And buys himself another drink to help him forget the list of losses stacked against him.

His eyes find mine again. I smile. He doesn't buy it. No dancing across the room this time--he makes a direct line for me and plants himself solidly in front of me. "Why are you so sad?" I tell him I'm not sad and he edges closer. He asks me again, more intently and insistently this time, "why are you sad?" and I look into his eyes and know I could drown in the depths of heartache and knowledge and understanding I see swimming there.

How do I answer that? How do I tell him that, without him uttering a word of it, I know his story...a life of disappointment and lost love and abandonment and despair? How do I tell him that life is bigger and hope always remains? How do I tell him that I'll go home tonight and weep the tears for him that I'm fighting to hold back right now? How do I tell him that I'm full of anger and overwhelmed with despair when I look at history and see how our government has played a part in the "something" insidious and ugly and hopeless and evil that brought us to the point where we're standing at that very moment? And how do I tell him that my heart has somehow found kinship and comfort and, in some odd way, "home" in a veritable stranger?

I don't tell him any of that. I tell him that people disappoint me and I'm tired of being hurt. He steps nose-to-nose with me, eyes still inviting me to dive into the haven he's offering, and lets me know without saying a word that he knows I'm giving him the "easy out" answer.

Sometimes that's all I can manage.

No words could describe this...

2008-07-30T23:35:00.002-05:00

"...And I saw the mountains waking with the innocence of children
And my soul is still there with them wrapped in the songs they brought
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America..."

Not really about baseball...

2008-07-07T20:08:00.003-05:00

...it's just the platform from which to tell the story.

I've been to 4 Cubs vs. Cardinals games, spread over several years, at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. No matter if they're having a winning season or not (and yes, it's been "not" more often than I care to acknowledge), the Cubs have a track record of beating the Cardinals the majority of the time on the Cards' home turf. It's an indisputable, statistical fact that even Cardinal fans have to admit.

And just to prove my bad luck, the Cubs lost the last 3 games I saw. But I went Saturday fully expecting a victory. The Cubs have held the #1 position in their division for most of the season and they've statistically outranked every other team in MLB for nearly all of that time. And, until the very bottom of the 9th inning (actually, the last 10 seconds of the game), I was confident I was about to break my "losing streak" and witness a victory. But the Cubs lost. I watched it all happen and still can't believe my eyes.

And this really ISN'T about baseball.

The Cubs and Cardinals played a 3-game series--Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The Cubs won Friday and Sunday. I didn't see those games. I didn't see them win, but I know they did. I didn't see them win, but I know they're a winning team. I've never seen them beat the Cardinals, but I know they do...almost all of the time.

And crazy as it may seem, this reminded me of the verse in Hebrews that talks about faith...when we have faith, we KNOW when something's real, even if we don't witness it with our own eyes. I've had a lot of challenges to my faith lately...and not just my faith in God, but essentially, it all points right back at God.

I never lost faith that I had a kick-ass printer (see the previous post), even though I had trouble getting it configured to work with my computer. I still have faith that there are decent, "dateable" men out there somewhere, even though I've encountered several that make me want to join a convent. I've not lost faith that marriage can be an amazing thing, even though...well, never mind--TMI alert going off there. ;-) And I've not lost faith in other believers, even though some need to have "Christ-follower" tattooed on their foreheads so I can recognize them for what they claim to be.

And if I can still have faith in fallible things like printers and men and Christians and the Chicago Cubs, even when they break and lie and cheat and lose because there's some small evidence (and a LOT of hope) that they will work and speak truth and be faithful and win, then I know I can have faith in a God who, unseen though he may be, just keeps inundating me with evidence that he's real.

My very own Clark Griswold moment...

2008-07-06T17:11:00.003-05:00

This is one of my favorite moments from National Lampoon's "Christmas Vacation"...after the kicking-the-Santa-and-punching-the-reindeer temper tantrum, Clark tries ONE LAST TIME to light the thousands of lights he's stapled to his roof. He slams the plug into the outlet with every ounce of strength he has...and the lights come on.

I don't have thousands of lights on my roof (I'm a Griswold in name only, thank you very much!), but I DO have a new, supposedly top-of-the-line HP photo printer that has caused me so much frustration by not printing even 1/10 as well as my 8 year-old cheapy DeskJet. Even set on "best quality print", the printer would print a photo in about 1.5 seconds...horrible quality, horrible color, huge banding--all my prints looked like bad cartoons. I've done every "fix" possible...and nothing's worked, not even the fixes other people have used on the same printer model with the same non-compatibility with XP drivers issues. GRRRR. I was pretty much ready to list it on eBay and go back to my junky little antique.

But I tried one last combo of "fixes" today and, with every expectation that the results would be the same, hit the button to print a test page. And I immediately heard the difference. S-L-O-W feed of the paper through the printer. Steady, even, concentrated dispersal of ink. And the finished product? Absolutely breath-takingly perfect. Exactly what I knew this printer could do.

You can call me Clark Griswold today and I won't even mind.

Technology...the wonder-drug

2008-07-01T21:58:00.007-05:00

So, if you haven't heard, I broke my phone. Completely in half.

This is the best phone I've ever owned. When I bought it, I asked the salesman if they had one made of titanium, since I'm known to be hard on phones (that might be an understatement). This one wasn't titanium, but it withstood a lot of drops, several onto concrete. The last drop (actually, more of a flight) from the van to the parking lot started its demise--I didn't mind the 2 big cracks (my last phone was held together with black electrical tape, so cracks are nothing), but when I lost the front screen and the inside screen started turning strange yellowish colors, I knew the end was near.

Something prompted me to upload the photos onto Facebook Saturday morning...the inside screen started turning yellow Saturday afternoon and was completely gone by Saturday night (which meant I lost my text-messaging capabilities--NOT a good thing for me). And the phone completely popped in half later that night.

I have a new phone now. It's purple. Plum, actually. And it's a pretty cool phone--I think I'm going to like it. Not as well as the old one...and I don't think it's as durable, but I still haven't found that titanium one, so I'll settle for a cool color. And I've learned how to make my own ringtones, so I'm not too heartbroken over all of the ringtones I lost from the old phone.

But. I lost things. I'm a keeper of memories. My text message storage was over 80% full of messages that I just couldn't bring myself to delete. Some were funny...probably only to me, probably because you just had to be there in the moment. Some were sad, like the message telling me the tent at God's Katrina Kitchen was down. Some were good advice, like the one from Chad reminding me that I was bought with a price and there wasn't an "unsigning clause" on the day I was ready to give up and walk away. And some of them...well, they were sweet at one time, but painful to read now. Reminders of how life turns on a dime and leaves you looking at your empty hands and wondering what the hell just happened. Deleting them acquiesced to defeat and I wasn't ready to give that ground yet. I wasn't ready to let go.

Technology, though, had other plans. For a clean slate and a new start. Doesn't matter if I like it or not. Doesn't matter if I was ready to turn the page. Maybe it's a good thing that I now have a new plum phone with an empty inbox. Maybe I can see tomorrow (or even today) better if I'm not turning to glance back at yesterday. Maybe it's a good thing that decision didn't rest in my hands. I feel kind of robbed and naked right now, but in the end, I might just be grateful that I was dragged into a new day.

This is one of the ringtones I lost. Not sure yet if I'll use it again, even though it remains one of my favorite songs. Who would ever have guessed how appropriate it would be right now?

"Into the Day"--Bebo Norman

You could turn a hundred years and never empty all your fears
They’re pouring out like broken words and broken bones
They could fill a thousand pages, be the cry for all the ages
And the song for every soul who stands alone

The ache of life is more than you are able

Hold on love, don’t give up
Don’t close your eyes
The light is breaking through the night

Step out into the day, all the clouds and all the rain are gone
It’s over now
Step out into the sun, for you have only begun to know
What it’s all about
As the hungering dark gives way to the dawn, my love
It’s over now

Time will let the story told grow and grow ‘til it unfolds
In a way that even you cannot ignore
You can say the seasons change but never if you just remain
In a place where the freeze is at your door

What you don’t know is the signs are right for the turning tide

Hold on, hold on

It won’t be long
So hold on

Ahh...glorious (?) summertime

2008-06-29T16:15:00.002-05:00

I have all my windows open this afternoon because the weather is SO beautiful...breezy, semi-cool--a perfect summer day. Time to enjoy all the sights and sounds of summer:

The neighbor kids setting off pack after pack of firecrackers.
The neighbor dogs howling loudly because they don't like firecrackers less than *I* like firecrackers.
The neighbor kids playing with a dirt bike...revving the engine over and over and over and...
The neighbor adults drinking heavily, which leads to...
The neighbor adults fighting, which leads to...
The neighbor adults screaming vulgar obscenitites at each other, which leads to...
The neighbor kids screaming at them to stop, and...
The neighbor dogs howling at all the screaming, which sometimes all leads to...
The neighbor ME calling the police and someone (sometimes it's Mom, sometimes Dad) getting hauled away for domestic violence.

Not today, though. I'm escaping to the country with my camera and my blackberry (as in real berries, not the phone!) pail. More productive than napping, anyway.

Chemicals, schmemicals...

2008-06-29T13:15:00.004-05:00

I deep-cleaned my (in)famous bathroom floor yesterday.

I've been using a new hair product in a bottle with a crappy sprayer that never sprays where you want it to go and I've consequently accumulated a lot of sticky gunk on the floor. So, I spent a couple of hours de-gunking yesterday.

The problem is, the stuff that won't spray where I want it to spray and won't hold my hair where I want (if I DO manage to get some of it on the proper spot) somehow sets up like concrete when it hits vinyl flooring.

I try to use natural products whenever I have that choice. I've been using citrus-based cleaners for a few years now, simply because I believe as a society we are unwittingly toxifying ourselves with all the possibly lethal chemicals we use, on a daily basis, to make our lives "easier" without counting the potential down-the-road costs. (Another sermon for another day, maybe.)

I tried all the natural stuff on the hairspray gunk. Nothing budged it. So, I dug in the back of the cabinet and found a couple of old chemical cleaners. I tried some kind of spray stuff that SAID it was orange, but the only thing orange about it was the hideous color and artificial orange scent. It kind of worked. Then I tried the "scrubbing bubbles" stuff. That, or the combination of the two, worked. The floor is de-gunked. All pretty and white again.

I, however, am not. I was wearing shorts. My legs are now covered with an ugly, itchy poison ivy-ish rash. I am truly MIS-ER-A-BLE. And I've learned my lesson. Those chemical cleaners are in the trash. Along with the others I'd shoved to the back of the cabinet. And the cheap, gunky hairspray is going in there, too. If natural products won't clean it up, I won't be using it. Harsh chemicals and I are parting company...as much as we possibly can.

Sometimes I have to be reminded why I've made the decisions I've made in the past, especially when another way looks easier. Point taken...and the basic truth of that will be applied elsewhere as well.

Beautiful...

2008-06-23T13:48:00.001-05:00

I want to join the dance!!

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Broken...

2008-06-15T09:09:00.001-05:00

...courtesy of Heather at Deconstructed Christian:

"I’m a broken person. A collection of smashed pieces. I used to think God fixed the broken and made things perfect and whole. Now I’m not so sure.
I think it’s more like he holds a candle in such a way that it illuminates all those broken pieces, so the light shines through and makes them beautiful in their brokenness."

OUCH!!!

2008-06-11T22:13:00.001-05:00

Courtesy of Frederick Buechner, from "Wishful Thinking":

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.

Tomatoes and peppers and beans...oh, my!

2008-06-09T23:09:00.002-05:00

We started planting the garden tonight. Three of us worked until the tornado sirens went off (actually, we kept working after that, but don't tell my mom!) I was in the middle of planting a row of beans and I was NOT going to drop what I was doing just because the sky was turning pinkish-greenish-purplish-blackish...I just kept thinking "if it starts raining, I'll never be able to find the place I stopped", so I kept going.

We got about 20 tomato plants in the ground (I still have to buy Romas tomorrow), plus about a dozen bell pepper plants and 6 "garden salsa" peppers. Not sure what that is, but I'm going to buy some habaneros or jalapenos tomorrow, just to make sure we have the hot stuff. Wiles already had okra and watermelon planted by the time I got there.

Left to plant: Corn. More beans. More tomatoes. Squash. Cilantro. Dill. Maybe some lettuce if it's shady enough under the tree.

I'm so tired, but it's a good tired.

Community...one bite at a time

2008-06-09T00:23:00.002-05:00

We're planting a garden!!

I'm so excited--this is a LONG-time dream of mine and it's finally going to happen, on a small scale, this year. Some friends aren't using their garden space this year due to other demands on their time, so we decided, kind of collectively, tonight at our small group meeting to plant the garden for ourselves. One of the guys tilled it up tonight and I'm going tomorrow to buy tomato and pepper plants and squash, corn and bean seeds. With baseball games and swim team meets and other summer time demands, we may not get much planted this week, but that's the plan.

I was raised in a garden. Pretty much literally. One of my earliest memories is sitting in the garden with my grandparents, holding a handful of seeds in my chubby little hand and listening to my granddad tell me what each was as I dutifully laid the precious pea, bean, kernel of corn into the row he'd hoed for me. My grandparents always bought us this amazing package of seeds each year--a plethora of vegetable and flowers seeds, all mixed together. We planted, watered, weeded, watched...and harvested. I learned that cherry tomatoes taste best when you pop them in your mouth fresh (and warmly sun-kissed) from the vine.

There's nothing like the smell of freshly tilled earth--the first thing I did tonight was stick my feet into the soil and relive all those years of memories. I've had to be content with about 12 square feet of garden space in my tiny backyard for the past 4 summers, but this garden is HUGE. I feel like we've been handed a hundred acres!

There's nothing like community--we plant together, we weed and water together, we harvest together. Hmm. Kind of sounds like a church, doesn't it?

And, as a gardener and a cook, there's just something innately beautiful...sensual...satisfying...complete, I guess, about plucking a beautiful ripe tomato from your garden, preparing a meal using something you've grown with your own hands, and then blessing others with food that is the product of your labor from beginning to end.

This IS "a good thing".

Of cats and WalMart bags and God...

2008-06-02T23:58:00.003-05:00

God uses the funniest (as in strange/funny) things to speak truth to me sometimes. Maybe that says something about my character...

My cat, Pissy (yes, that's really her name), has been crazy tonight. Running circles around me, jumping in my lap, meowing loudly, doing her racetrack gallop--through the house, up the chair, down the chair and back around the circle in the opposite direction. And jumping onto the bench under the window and pawing at the window blinds, which she KNOWS is absolutely forbidden and irritates me more than anything else she does--she's ruined countless sets of mini-blinds with those antics.

Tonight, she would stick a paw into the blinds and pull them down, then turn around to see if I was watching, with (I swear it) a totally defiant look on her whiskery face. As soon as I would jump up to smack her, she would leap off the table and run. She was acting like she really wanted something and I should know exactly what she wanted (and then, of course, rush to do her bidding), but the door was wide open so she could go outside to enjoy her favorite perch on the front porch and I knew her food and water bowls were full. I thought maybe we were going to have another earthquake--I keep hearing that animals act strangely right before an earthquake.

I was doing some laundry tonight and when I went to throw the laundry in the dryer, she came galloping into the laundry room right behind me, ran to her food bowl and started meowing. I looked down. No food bowl in sight. A WalMart plastic bag had fallen off the shelf above her bowl and had drifted down and completely covered the bowl. It was there. But she couldn't see it. And she apparently couldn't figure out how to move the bag (I'm surprised at that, really) to get to the food she knew was there.

I picked the bag up and she dived into the food like she was starving. I stood there, looking down at her and the now-exposed food bowl, and God started nudging me.

How often are we like Pissy? How often do we run around like maniacs, looking for someone else to perform a "quick fix" that we are more than capable of performing ourselves? How often do we go to the source of our nourishment, then stand there like a dumb animal (sorry, Pissy), waiting for someone to open the book and read to us, waiting for a preacher to tell us what God is saying, waiting for someone to feed us? I've seen Pissy do some pretty amazing things--she can push open a heavy door, she's been known to claw a big chunk of carpet and padding up off a floor while trying to dig her way under a door into a room...she's a pretty smart and determined feline. And she couldn't move an empty WalMart sack off her food bowl? What is THAT about?!

Kind of like some people I know. Resourceful, skilled, crafty even...able to fix cars or unstop plugged drains or build beautiful things. But they stop dead in their tracks at the slightest little "thing" that stands between themselves and the amazing good things that God has for them...they stop and wait for someone else to come along and pick up the trifling piece of plastic bag that's covering up the place where God is dwelling. Why do we so often think we have to be "led" by someone else to what God is shouting specifically to us? And why do we allow ourselves to starve when God has given us a brain and the ability to move, go around, dig through, or blast to bits (insert mental picture of Pissy in Rambo gear, machine-gunning the WalMart bag...) the insignificant thing keeping us from the food he's given us?

Bodies in motion...

2008-05-25T23:52:00.005-05:00

My body:

So, I've made a commitment to get up off my butt and move. And now I'm dreading it. Even though I KNOW it's the right (really the ONLY) choice for me right now. I can eat as healthily as I want (which I do most of the time) and still not lose any weight, because I'm moving very little.
The torture started yesterday. ;-) Really, it wasn't that much of a problem, because my holiday plans included mopping the rest of my living room floor (the old-fashioned, on my hands and knees way) and boxing up my winter clothes (I'm believing we're finally done with this crappy spring/winter/spring/winter stuff that feels more like March than almost June). I didn't get everything accomplished that I'd hoped, but...I moved. And I moved everything out of my closet and other things back in, so I got my workout AND my closet looks good. (And yes, everything is organized in rainbow order--I start out REALLY well at the beginning of the seasons, but it soon looks like rainbow soup...oh, well.)

My "community" body:

Several of us went to Paris, IL this past weekend to help with a benefit dinner for an 18 year-old who's in the hospital, recovering from a ruptured aorta. I've never met him. I may never meet him, but I hope to someday. It didn't really matter, though...he's "family" in that really cool way that most people just don't get. We road-tripped Saturday, hung out with Chet's family (I love crashing other people's family reunions!), sat around the campfire, sang silly songs, listened to the kids playing, watched the stars...who could ask for more?

We started out EARLY Sunday (I'm not a morning person, but I didn't even mind)--we left the house a little after 7:00 AM, headed to the church in Paris and started cooking. And didn't really stop working until everything was cooked, everyone was served, and everything was cleaned up. It's so amazing to watch my little "community" join together with others to do something good and selfless--it gives me hope that, to quote Shane, "another world IS possible" when we take our eyes off ourselves.

My formal-organization-that-meets-on-Sunday-morning "body":

See the Shane quote above. I'm SO encouraged by what I've seen/heard/experienced lately--from our new pastor and from others. Peck has a GENUINE heart for the less-blessed and broken in this world. He doesn't just mouth the words because he thinks that's what I want to hear--he has a proven track record. And there are others who have shown me lately just how generous and loving they are.

And, God is proving faithful...as we look for new opportunities to really be the hands and feet of Jesus to people both inside and outside the walls of the building in which we gather, he's providing. I'm excited about some doors (one in particular) which may be opening for us that will allow us to serve more of the less-blessed in a really tangible way.

I've wanted to run away for so long...to get out in the world and REALLY do "something big" for God...maybe that big thing has been in my backyard all along and I just couldn't see it. Maybe big to God isn't (always) going to Darfur or Myanmar or even to the post-Katrina Gulf Coast--maybe "big" is sometimes just opening your eyes and looking at (and listening to) the person sitting in the pew next to you on Sunday morning...maybe it's stepping outside your back door and helping your neighbor weed her flower bed...maybe it's sacrificing a little sleep and helping a dad not worry so much about paying his bills while he's sitting by his son's hospital bed...maybe that "little is much when God's in it" song is truer than I thought...maybe he just wants us to get up off our butts and get MOVING.

Silly love songs...

2008-05-22T23:10:00.003-05:00

...gotta love 'em.

I was listening to the bluegrass station on Launchcast tonight while I was baking my famous "kick-ass chocolate cake" and stuffing a pork loin full of garlic/onion jam, Craisins, and pecans (surprise retirement dinner tomorrow for a co-worker). I forget how much I love bluegrass music until I start listening. There's something about a mandolin that just makes me HAPPY. And Alison Krauss--she's truly amazing. I'd love to be able to sing like she does. This is the song I heard tonight. Kinda silly/sappy, maybe. But it was really sweet. And it made me smile. Kinda wistfully, but it was a smile. That's a start, eh?

"I Will"--Alison Krauss

Who knows how long I've loved you?
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?
If you want me to, I will

For if I ever saw you
I didn't catch your name
But it never really mattered
I will always feel the same

Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we're together
Love you when we're apart

And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you to me
You know I will

I will

Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we're together
Love you when we're apart

And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you to me
Oh, you know I will

Losing my mind...

2008-05-16T13:43:00.002-05:00

I read this on Wrecked For the Ordinary today...THIS is who I want to be. Some would maybe say I've lost my mind in a very different way, of course, but this...this is my heart.

I tell you this morning that I have lost my mind. I have given it over to Christ, some time ago, and He does much better things with it than I ever would have. He has my mind, my heart, my spirit, my body, my life. All of it is His. This is no sacrifice - I simply acknowledge the truth that Is, Was, and Always Will Be...and choose to live joyously within it. In this place I find passion and purpose, and the wildest places in my heart are stirred to dance even as hard things are happening in every area of my life.

The days of our lives...

2008-05-14T21:47:00.003-05:00

A friend's dad died last week. My friend knows his dad is no longer in pain...and knows that he knew God. I watched my friend walk through the week with peace and grace--he encouraged ME when I went to be an encouragement to him and his mom. He comforted his children, smiled as friends reminisced, cared for his mom...and I never saw him falter.

And yet, there's enormous loss. The family is left with the task of rearranging their lives to compensate for what's gone...you don't just move the furniture around and hope to cover up the gaping husband/dad/grandfather hole. How do you move in the face of that reality? How do you listen to idle gossip and random chitchat? How, sometimes, do you even breathe?

"Like sands through the hourglass...so are the days of our lives." I grew up hearing that line from my mom's favorite soap opera. I've been hearing MacDonald Carey's voice echoing in my head all week. The days...they're just trickling away, hour by hour, grain of sand by grain of sand. And what do we do with those days? With those hours? With those minutes? With the relationships we're handed? How cognizant are we that life is truly just a vapor, a breath...and then it's gone? Do we really value relationships, especially those with our families, like we should?

I sat next to a guy in church Sunday morning who had all 5 of his kids with him. On Mother's Day. He's an outstanding dad...I gave him one of the little potted plants that were handed out to all of the ladies of the church, because he's a great single dad who's tackling the dual-parenting role and is doing a wonderful job. But I still wonder about the kids...as they grow older, will they wonder where Mom was on Mother's Day? And why they weren't with her? His oldest daughter is at the age where she needs a mom to advise her and guide her as she transitions from little girl to young woman...how sad that Mom is missing out on the opportunity, for whatever reason. Will she regret those missed moments someday?

I know a woman whose dad turned his back on her a few years ago...for whatever reason, he made a choice: his life would no longer include her. She's beautiful and smart and funny and talented and has her heart set on God...she's everything a daddy would want his little girl to grow up to be. And he's missing it. Will he look back on this wasted time someday and see what he's lost?

I always think about them when I hear Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Cinderella":
She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sittin' here wearin' the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy, please!"
So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all to soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone.

Maybe it's just because I'm getting older and recognized myself in the face of my friend last week--someday I'll be in his place. I don't want to regret anything. I don't want to lose even one grain of sand--I'm sure I will, but I want to be constantly reminded of how precious each one is.

Listening to the voices...

2008-05-09T00:03:00.003-05:00

So, I had an epiphanal moment today. During a funeral. When my mind was wandering. And God met me on that meandering path and stopped me in my tracks.

I hear voices. A lot of them. A veritable cacophany, really.

Some of the voices tell me a lot of negative things--I'm too fat, my hair is too red, I'm untrustworthy, my house is dirty, I'm irresponsible, my friends don't really care about me, my beliefs are a load of crap, I waste my money on unimportant things, I'll never really amount to anything, etc. These are LOUD voices. I hear them a lot.

Other voices are different. They tell me I'm loved and beautiful and talented and cherished. They don't always speak so loudly. Sometimes they get drowned out with all that other shouting.

So, on this meandering path today, I was kind of contemplating what the minister was saying--that we'll all face the end of the journey someday and people will be mourning our loss--and kind of thinking about some of those voices (mostly negative) I've been hearing recently. And then I started thinking about the nature of the person to whom each voice belonged.

Integrity speaks quietly but with strength. As does honor. And character. And truth.

The people I most admire, the people with those qualities, are the people speaking in their quiet voices strong words of affirmation and encouragement to me.

I've never heard God speak audibly to me, but I can tell you that I heard his voice today. And his inaudible voice resounded more loudly in my ears and in my heart than all of that negative junk combined.

I choose character over noise. I'm listening to the quiet now.

This is NOT a political commentary...

2008-05-04T22:57:00.002-05:00

...just something I heard today that's making me ponder a lot of things.

If the leaders of Muslim countries have issues right now dealing with the US because we have a female Secretary of State and they have "issues" with females in leadership positions, what kind of predicament could we have on our hands if we have a female PRESIDENT?

Interesting, eh?

Beautiful words...

2008-05-03T22:58:00.000-05:00

...that I didn't write. Wish I had.

Time does not always heal, and peace does not always last. Home is not always where you are, but where you’ve been - no matter how short the stay. Your heart has been left behind, because it was captured by the paralyzing reality of grace, peace, beauty, and love. For me, home is where I met God most intimately - in His silence and stillness of peace - basking in the overwhelming complexity of His creation that was made for His glory and my joy. And that joy is what caused me to forget whether or not there was any other time in my life when I heard my Beloved’s voice any louder or felt more alive.

Doin' the chemistry...

2008-05-03T09:54:00.003-05:00

So, everyone around here seems to be quite cognizant of the fact that "cooking" meth and ingesting that finished product is pretty lethal to your body. And why wouldn't it be? Anhydrous ammonia (and some of the other ingredients as well) isn't really something I'd like to knowingly put into my body.

But.

Where do the "cookers" get their anhydrous? By stealing from local fertilizer plants or from nurse tanks the farmers leave out in their fields. Which means...anhydrous goes into our soil, along with seed that grows into corn that goes into feed that "nourishes" the cattle/hogs/chickens that yields the steaks/chops/wings that we put into our mouths without (for the most part) a second thought.

So, it appears I'm ingesting (maybe in a very minute amount, but ingesting nonetheless) anhydrous ammonia when I consume a delicious, grilled T-bone. Doesn't THAT sound yummy?

Run wild with the hope...

2008-05-01T22:40:00.002-05:00

"From the place where morning gathers
You can look sometimes forever 'til you see
What time may never know
What time may never know
How the Lord takes by its corners this old world
And shakes us forward and shakes us free
To run wild with the hope
To run wild with the hope..."

So, I mentioned a few days ago that I've been listening to Rich Mullins again...and feeling that old stirring that I used to know so well. I want to "run wild" with hope again.

This isn't just some sentimental, teary-eyed idolization of a long-dead man who didn't know me from a hole in the ground. Well, the last part is true--he DIDN'T know me from a hole in the ground. I met Rich once...and it's the only time I can recall that I was tongue-tied and stupid in the face of "celebrity". You don't just walk up to a total stranger, introduce yourself, tell him he's turned your world upside-down and do something stupid like propose to him (well, you might if you weren't already married at the time...or if it was a few years later and the person was Donald Miller and none of your friends believed you'd do it, but that's another story.) It was at the end of a show, I was at the end of the line...and Rich was exhausted and a bit crabby.

But the words...oh, my gosh. I can't listen to a song like "Calling Out Your Name" without feeling that long-buried wildness stirring. I remember the night in Wichita, gathered at the foot of the Keeper of the Plains with kindred spirits from the Lecacy Fest...honoring Rich's memory with our songs and with our silence.

And I'm ready to run.

In some ways, I feel like I'm only now "getting it"--the story Rich told with his life and with his music isn't new...wasn't even new at the time of his telling. It's ages old...ancient. He was all about community and being the hands and feet of Jesus before it was cool. He certainly got it. He didn't wear funky glasses or cool clothes like Rob Bell. He didn't go on world tours like Brian McLaren. He just went about his business, living at poverty level, teaching music to Indian kids on the rez, eating "freegan" food from the plates of strangers in restaurants...and setting pen to paper to create lyrics that resonated deeply with so many people.

Those lyrics, those ideas...they still stir me. Lately, I've found myself pushing those stirrings down deeper...down to a place where I haven't felt them so much. But how long can you push them down before they find their way back to the surface and explode out into the light? I've been quiet lately--I've been just skimming along the surface of life, trying to not really feel too much. But it's not working. I think WAAAAY too much for it to work.

When Katie and I listened to COYN the other night, I honestly thought I might explode right then. Sometimes God has to take by the corners our own personal little worlds and shake them hard...and sometimes that's a really good thing. Sometimes we need a good shaking out of our complacency. I know sometimes I won't move forward until I'm shoved there by circumstances beyond my control. I don't like being out of control, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. And maybe that shaking will set me free. Maybe it'll set free some of that stuff boiling up inside of me that's dying to EXPLODE.

I think I'm ready to run again.

Gulf Coast Memories...

2008-04-28T23:37:00.020-05:00

Some shots of my most recent trip to Mississippi and New Orleans:

A friend's beautiful home. It's progressing slowly...as funds and volunteers are available. A group from Altoona, PA, worked on the floor the week I was there. Once it's finished, my friend will generously open her home to give volunteers a place to stay while they work on other homes in the area. ...and a neighboring house. So much is done. So much more yet to do. And the media has forgotten the plight of the people of the Gulf Coast as they've moved on to today's "hot" news item.

Acres and acres of "Katrina Cottages", waiting to go to families in need of housing. Sitting in a big old field...all tied up in bureaucratic red tape (can't you see it?) People are slogging through layers and layers of governmental crap in order to get one of these cottages to live in for 2 years while they work on rebuilding their homes and lives. Trouble is, months can tick by on the 2-year time limit while people wait for their paperwork to get stamped, stapled, spindled, etc...and they could end up just getting settled in to one of these lovely little cottages right before the government comes to boot them out.

Lingering marks of Katrina and FEMA in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Many houses still bear the spray-painted markings which signified to rescue teams that a house had been checked.

But the sun was shining...and people were getting married...and the street vendors and artists were out in full force. Sometimes, you could almost forget that there are people living under the overpass in a "tent city" just a few blocks away. Or that a huge part of the Lower Ninth Ward is still boarded up and looks like it's been bombed.

Beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde.

Let's just say they didn't last long. And I felt miserable. But it was worth it.

The newly-rebuilt St. Peter's-by-the-Sea Episcopal Church. It's beautiful. We attended the church service there Sunday morning. I've come to this church nearly every trip to the Gulf Coast--it's been a huge source of encouragement to me to see this faith community rebuild on its original foundation. Because THIS is what it looked like after Katrina:

And this is my "Katrina angel"...

...she's always been my symbol of hope in the midst of deep despair. My original shot of her was in January 2006 (see below)...and the world around her has changed drastically as the "angels" in human form have come from around the world to help rebuild the lives of the people God loves on the Gulf Coast.

2008-04-26T09:16:00.003-05:00

From SimpleChurch Journal --I like this.

Church Membership:

Terms You Will Not See In the Bible:
• “This is my church.”
• “I go to church.”
• “I am a member of ‘such-and-such’ church.”
• “I belong to the ‘such-and-such’ church.”
• “I attend church.”
• “I was accepted into membership at church.”
• “My pastor.”
• “Come to my church.”
• “I changed churches.”

Terms You Do See In the Bible:
• “We are all one body…” (Eph. 4:4)
• “There is only one Lord, one faith, one baptism…” (Eph. 4:5)
• “Always keep yourselves united in the Holy Spirit…” (Eph. 4:3)
• “You are members of God's family.” (Eph. 2:19)
• “For as members of one body you are all called to live in peace…” (Col. 3:15)
• “…for we are all members of one body.” (Eph. 4:25)
• “the church in Jerusalem,” “the church in Antioch” (Acts 11:22; 13:1)
• “let us aim for harmony in the church…” (Rom. 14:19)
• “Christ and the church are one.” (Eph. 5:32)

Remembering Rich...

2008-04-26T00:26:00.002-05:00

Even after 10 years, I still get choked up when I listen to this song. Hearing it again tonight opened a door...but that's for another day.

"Calling Out Your Name"--Rich Mullins

Well the moon moved past Nebraska
And spilled laughter on them cold Dakota Hills
And angels danced on Jacob's stairs
Yeah, they danced on Jacob's stairs
There is this silence in the Badlands
And over Kansas the whole universe was stilled
By the whisper of a prayer
The whisper of a prayer

And the single hawk bursts into flight
And in the east the whole horizon is in flames
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I can feel the earth tremble
Beneath the rumbling of the buffalo hooves
And the fury in the pheasant's wings
And there's fury in a pheasant's wings
It tells me the Lord is in His temple
And there is still a faith that can make the mountains move
And a love that can make the heavens ring
And I've seen love make heaven ring

Where the sacred rivers meet
Beneath the shadow of the Keeper of the plains
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

From the place where morning gathers
You can look sometimes forever 'til you see
What time may never know
What time may never know
How the Lord takes by its corners this old world
And shakes us forward and shakes us free
To run wild with the hope
To run wild with the hope

The hope that this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
And I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

And I know this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And with the prairies I am calling out Your name

Gloating...because I can

2008-04-22T21:31:00.002-05:00

So...how 'bout those Cubbies? :-)

First place in the Central Division. 1.5 games ahead of the 2nd place Cardinals. Second best record in the National League at .700, not far behind Arizona at .737. A five-game winning streak--currently the best in the NL. Derrek Lee is in 2nd place for most HRs (7) so far this season.

What a sweet feeling. It's nice to be on top. Hoping it lasts. Now if I could only make it to Wrigley for a game this year...that would just be wonderful!

One for the "bucket list"...

2008-04-20T00:20:00.003-05:00

I rode in a Hummer tonight.

And not just ANY old Hummer. It was a loooong black Hummer limo. Complete with champagne.

Through the generosity of a dear lady whom I'm privileged to call "friend", I attended a fundraiser event tonight for an elite Catholic high school...the high school Bret Favre attended. It was pretty amazing. Food was provided by around 70 local restaurants (NOT the McD/Taco Bell type!) and it was all delicious--we wandered around for an hour, sampling some of the Gulf Coast's best food (Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, for example).

There was a really good band playing, several bars set up around the yard/pool, a huge silent auction and (we left too soon), a very large fireworks display--I wish we could have stayed for that!

Some serious money was spent tonight...and I'm sure some really serious money was pouring in. Makes porkburger sales look pretty pitiful.

Social Justice...Part 2

2008-04-13T23:19:00.002-05:00

This is the 2nd of 5 segments of an article by Rich Nathan. It's getting some interesting discussion over at sojo.net.

Is Social Justice a Distraction from the Gospel? (Part 2 of 5 by Rich Nathan)

Social justice is not a distraction from our commitment; it is part and parcel of the gospel of the kingdom. We read in Mark 1:15:

"The time has come," he said. "The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!"

What is the message of the kingdom? Certainly the center of the message is the proclamation that through one's faith in Jesus Christ (the King), a person can be eternally saved. Thus my church regularly calls people to put their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ in order to be born again and enter God's kingdom.

But that is not the circumference or totality of the message of the kingdom. The ultimate goal of the kingdom goes beyond the salvation of us as individuals (wonderful as that is) and involves the restoration and renovation of the entire universe. The message of the kingdom is a fulfillment of the prophet Isaiah's vision in Isaiah 65:17, 20-25:

"See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind. ...

"Never again will there be infants who live but a few days, or older people who do not live out their years; those who die at a hundred will be thought mere youths; those who fail to reach a hundred will be considered accursed. They will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit. No longer will they build houses and others live in them, or plant and others eat. For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people; my chosen ones will long enjoy the work of their hands. They will not labor in vain, nor will they bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the Lord, they and their descendants with them. Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, but dust will be the serpent's food. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain," says the Lord.

This message was echoed by all the prophets. So the prophet Micah says this in 4:1-4:

In the last days the mountain of the Lord's temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and peoples will stream to it. Many nations will come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths." The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between many peoples and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Everyone will sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid, for the Lord Almighty has spoken.

The apostle Paul speaks about the cosmic sweep of this message of the kingdom. He tells us that not only we, but the entire creation, will be freed from the curse of the fall (Romans 8:19-21). In Ephesians, the apostle Paul again enlarges the scope of the message beyond our individual salvation when he says in Ephesians 1:9-10:

[H]e made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times reach their fulfillment; to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ.

This enormous plan, involving the renovation and restoration of the entire universe, is what we pray for when we pray the Lord's Prayer, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

So when we Christians feed the hungry in the name of Jesus, or heal a sick person in the power of Christ, or work for peace in this war-torn world, or help reconcile a marriage, or extend help to immigrants, or work for the responsible care of the environment, these actions are not a distraction from our commission to preach the gospel of the kingdom. Rather, we are living out our calling as kingdom people to partner with God in bringing about the healing of the entire universe.

Welcome, genius!

2008-04-12T23:55:00.002-05:00

So, I saw this "what's your blog's reading level?" thing posted on some guy's blog while I was blog-surfing tonight. Thought I'd test it out. It says things here are at "Genius" level. I have NO idea of the judging criteria--just thought it would be amusing to check it out.

For the record, the blog from which I lifted the link was "College, Post-Graduate" level.

I think I quote a lot of smart people... :-)

Quoting a guy who's quoting a guy...

2008-04-09T20:49:00.002-05:00

...and he says it so much better than I could. I'm looking forward to reading Parts 2 through 5.

What Doing Justice Means for My Church (Part 1 of 5 by Rich Nathan)
I've always wanted to be part of a church that seeks to be and to do everything the New Testament calls the church to be and to do. I've described this kind of church in the past as a holistic church, or a church that works on all eight cylinders. In other words, it is not enough if my church is known as a great worship center, or a great preaching church. The New Testament demands more.

New Testament scholar N.T. Wright gets us right to the heart of the matter when he says:

For generations the church has been polarized between those who see the main task being the saving of souls for heaven and the nurturing of those souls through the valley of this dark world, on the one hand, and on the other hand those who see the task of improving the lot of human beings and the world, rescuing the poor from their misery. The longer I've gone on as a New Testament scholar and wrestled with what the early Christians were originally talking about, the more it's borne in on me that distinction is one that we modern Westerners bring to the text rather than finding it in the text. Because the great emphasis in the New Testament is that the gospel is not how to escape the world; the gospel is that the crucified and risen Jesus is the Lord of the world. And that his death and Resurrection transformed the world, and that transformation can happen to you. You, in turn, can be part of the transforming work. That draws together what we traditionally call evangelism, bringing people to the point where they come to know God and Christ for themselves, with working for God's Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. That has always been at the heart of the Lord's Prayer, and how we've managed for years to say the Lord's Prayer without realizing that Jesus really meant it is very curious. Our Western culture since the 18th century has made a virtue of separating our religion from real life, or faith from politics. When I lecture about this, people will pop up and say, "Surely Jesus said my kingdom is not of this world." And the answer is no, what Jesus said in John 18 is, "My kingdom is not from this world." That's ek tou kosmoutoutou. It is quite clear in the text that Jesus' kingdom doesn't start with this world. It isn't a worldly kingdom, but it is for this world. It is from somewhere else, but it is for this world.

Social justice is simply a commitment on the part of Christians to improve the lot of human beings in this world, particularly the lot of the most marginalized to whom God shows particular concern. The God of the Bible is both a God of justification (declaring us right with God) and justice (putting the world to rights).

Social justice was the historic practice of the evangelical church before the 20th century. It would have been unthinkable for leaders like John Wesley or William Wilberforce to consider someone to be a good follower of Jesus Christ who was not actively involved in improving the social conditions of people in this world.

Doing justice is one of the major themes throughout scripture. God hates religion without an accompanying commitment to social justice:

I hate, I despise your religious festivals; I cannot stand your assemblies. Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them. Though you bring choice fellowship offerings, I will have no regard for them. Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! ( Amos 5:21-24)

I have several hopes for my church regarding social justice. I hope that we become a church that breaks out of the boxes that church tradition tries to impose upon the evangelical church -- namely, that evangelical churches are not supposed to be involved with improving the social conditions of people in this world. My hope is that members of Vineyard Columbus would seek to walk in the shoes of those whose perspectives are shaped by poverty, racial oppression, and personal suffering. My hope is that the tilt of the hearts of Vineyard Columbus members would be toward the poor (and not just the rich), toward the sick (and not just the well), and toward peacemaking. I have a hope that Vineyard Columbus would not exist for itself, but for Christ and for the world.

Thomas Blackaby on pastors and churches...

2008-04-08T07:57:00.002-05:00

"Instead of leading their people to find the heart and mind of God for their own congregations, some pastors seek to copy other “more successful” congregations that have blown past the norm, set new standards, and developed innovative approaches for reaching their communities. These churches have successfully marketed their strategies, and multiple thousands of other churches around the world have bought into their techniques and methodologies. We love to buy other people’s techniques because it means we don’t actually have to come up with our own. We don’t have to do the hard work of going before the Lord on bended knee or going without to fast and pray to seek the heart and mind of our Master. We can open a book or watch a DVD and, poof! There it is already prepared for us!"

Grown-up furniture...

2008-03-29T16:50:00.004-05:00

I'm so excited!! I have a new couch and chair!

For the first time in my life, my furniture feels...mature, I guess. Maybe it's just because my tastes have changed a lot since the last time I bought furniture, which was about 15 years ago, I think...maybe longer. I've hated my old couch for a long time, but it was still in pretty decent shape until recently when the springs started NOT springing--sitting on it has been like sinking into a pit from which you can't extract yourself without a crane. Well...almost. ;-)

I LOVE my new couch. The color doesn't really look "olive" in the picture, but that's what it is. And the chair--oh, my gosh, it's BEAUTIFUL. And totally me. And it's nice to have something that wasn't a hand-me-down from someone else or what I settled for because it was the one with the "clearance" tag on it.

And someone just picked up my old couch from the curb...she was glad to have it, un-springy springs and all, so I'm glad I could do a little paying forward.

The sounds of silence...

2008-03-27T23:46:00.004-05:00

It's quiet in my house tonight. Too quiet. The only sounds I hear right now are the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the cat giving herself a bath in the chair beside me.

It's lovely having company. It's lonely when company goes home. Back to the mundane laundry/dishes/housecleaning chores of "normal" life. Back to the business of sorting out my thoughts...although, it's not a bad business to be about (and pretty necessary).

Maybe silence is good for something. I have much to ponder. :-)

Thoughts and tears and tv shows...

2008-03-04T23:39:00.002-06:00

It's been a long time since a tv show (well, except for "The Big Give" which doesn't count) made me cry. Probably partially due to the fact that I don't watch much tv...and what I DO watch, I watch online, since I don't have cable.

So, I watch October Road. Faithfully. And I've become emotionally attached to the small-town atmosphere, the characters, the relationships...I want to go find that town and buy a house next door to Eddie and Phil and Nick and Pizza Girl. :-) Actually, I want to BE Pizza Girl, complete with pink and yellow and green and purple stripes in my hair--she called herself an "oddling" on one episode and I knew we were soul-sisters. ;-)

Tonight's episode was a little different--quite a bit of male/female relationship misunderstanding/conflict, interspersed with flashbacks to the boys at 10 years old, all of them in love with a girl who moved away...and was forgotten for 18 years until they learned she had just been killed in a car wreck.

Maybe it's partly because 2 horrible accidents here have left 3 people dead in the past week...and I have a heightened sense of the importance of making every moment count with the ones you love. Maybe it's partly because it's so refreshing to watch a show where the guys are portrayed, at least sometimes, as stopping to consider their actions AND share their thoughts/fears with the women they love. Whatever the reason, the final scenes of all the men leaving the funeral and going back to the women they love and making things right brought on the tears. I mean, I actually sat here and cried.

And it's not just about the tv show, of course. It's all tied in with community and relationship and love and respect and being transparent with one another, even when you're afraid. Another encouragement that I'm on the right track. Another challenge to keep running that race.

Fried Chicken...I KNOW him!!!

2008-03-04T12:40:00.004-06:00

OMG.

I may have to post the actual "news article" that was posted on our agency website today. After 18 years, I'm still in shock when I encounter people who are so stupid, they can't even manage to use correct grammar/spelling/punctuation/capitalization when they're writing something that will be sent to every employee in the agency and/or posted on the website.

I find it difficult to believe that so many people lack basic intelligence and simple grammatical skills--especially people who work in an agency in which most positions require a college degree. Maybe their degrees are in basketweaving...? Obviously nothing that required an English class. Or nothing that required staying away during an English class. (And I still haven't recovered from our agency director's interest being "peeked" awhile back.)

Until I have the actual article in front of me, here are the basics:

A Lady came to a local office for services. The Lady got sick while she was waiting for her son to pick her up, because she has Diabetes. The office administrator gave the Lady some Fried Chicken from a Potluck the staff was having that day.

PRINCESS BRIDE meets ELF:

"Hey, Lady, Fried Chicken is going to be here today."

"Fried Chicken?!! I KNOW him!!!"

Your tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen.

I feel like...

2008-03-02T23:00:00.002-06:00

...I'm hanging by the thinnest of threads tonight. Like one small gust of wind could detach me from my perch and fling me off into the night sky. It's not truth. The thread is strong and I know it. But I feel it and it scares me. My foundation just doesn't feel very firm right now.

I'm tired. I got my butt kicked by my dear friend John's sermon this morning. I love him. I hate him. No, I DO love him. And he loves me, which is why he speaks truth to me without sugarcoating it. He was preaching to me today (he mentioned me BY NAME twice--can't get much more direct than that!) His question was "what would you do for Jesus if you knew you couldn't fail?" If I really KNEW I couldn't fail, I might not feel like I'm swinging on a thread over a deep abyss. But maybe the answer to the question is "cut the thread". And maybe I don't want to think about that possibility right now.

Me...redefined

2008-03-01T20:04:00.002-06:00

Spring cleaning has come early this year. I feel suffocated, small, squashed by STUFF. Like the things around me are clamoring so loudly, they're telling me who I am...and I'm not sure that "who" fits me anymore.

I have to laugh sometimes--I'm surrounded by signs, big and small, that say "simplify". And how is surrounding myself with a bunch of signs simplifying anything? Umm. More to organize. More to dust. More to READ. And how, pray tell, is reading "simplify" every time I turn around benefitting me? I don't feel benefitted at all...

So I'm purging.

When I moved into this house, I already had a lot of things that I loved--things that expressed my personality in beautiful/weird ways (pretty fitting!)--and I continued to collect treasures here and there that reflected facets of who I am. Of course, family and friends have also gifted me with additional pieces over the years...and my "little collections" are all grown up now and breathing down my neck at every turn.

And I've been left wondering where things changed. I'm not my stuff. I am ME. I'm not the mixing bowls/coasters/cookbooks/baskets with which I've been gifted. I'm not even the hayhooks/cobalt glass/milk bottles/"simplify" signs I've bought myself. I'm not a house full of clutter. And I'm no longer going to let any of that control me and attempt to tell me who I am.

I need to breathe. I need to not have my senses bombarded at every turn by something to read/see/smell. I need space. I need to reclaim my home for myself. I need to reclaim ME.

I gutted my kitchen this evening. Tossed about half of my cookbooks in the rummage sale pile. Cleared everything but the toaster, coffeemaker and food processor off the countertop. Decluttered the top of the fridge and microwave. Truly simplified. It looks almost like it did when I first moved in, before I started adding things. I like it. I can breathe.

I already had about half the living room done and I'm finding I really like the clean lines and empty spaces. Not every tabletop/inch of shelf space has to be covered. Empty spaces leave room for possibility.

Casting Crowns - Who Am I

2008-02-20T00:15:00.001-06:00

This is quite amazing...

The other side of the world...

2008-02-18T09:17:00.003-06:00

Shakira sent $40 million to Peru to help earthquake victims. Must have gotten lost in the mail somewhere. This is a video which was sent to her to show her what her money is NOT doing. (Has FEMA taken up residence in Peru now? Seems like it.)

Shakira... from Kim on Vimeo.

Strange dreams...

2008-02-17T15:01:00.002-06:00

...of a dog that becomes a cat, a person who becomes someone else entirely right before my eyes, and of a man who, at first glance appeared perfectly normal, until I realized his head had 2 faces (nearly identical, so when I realized this, I didn't even know if I'd been talking to the same face during all of our conversation).

All is, so it seems, NOT what it seems. What appears to be reality may not be so. I forget that sometimes...maybe I just needed the reminder. And a vivid reminder it was.

It's VD!!!!

2008-02-14T00:30:00.004-06:00

Meg at vd.meish.org has captured my VD sentiments in a bunch of GREAT Anti-Valentine cards. I have to quote a bit from the FAQ section of her website--I couldn't have said it better myself.

I’m against anyone with a vested interest telling us how and when it’s appropriate to be affectionate - say it with roses, a diamond is forever, if you REALLY loved her, you’d take her to Paris.

I hate all those cutesy bears holding satin hearts saying “I wuv oo snugglebum!” - as if love can only be this childish, price-tagged, pukey thing. I hate the fact that flowers which are reasonably priced at any other time of the year suddenly rocket in price in February, only to plummet again afterwards. It’s like the coporations are saying “yeah, we’re clearly ripping you off, but you have no choice but to accept it.” And I hate the cards with saccharine, pre-written messages and poems. If you love someone as an individual, why would you give them a generic message of love - “I love you in exactly the way that the card company says I should”?

There’s nothing less romantic and/or sexy than a bunch of wilted, overpriced flowers, slutty lingerie made in a sweatshop, chocolates melted down from left-over advent calendars and reformed into hearts and a card pre-printed with someone else’s generic sentiment which you’re supposed to sign away to your sweetheart.

Amen, sista!!

Smiling Addiction

2008-02-12T13:03:00.001-06:00

Would you attend this gathering...?

2008-02-12T11:37:00.000-06:00

I would. And I think I would feel very comfortable there.

I LOVE the idea of having an art gallery as part of the sanctuary..."church" as we do it limits/excludes the creative expression/gifting of such a large part of the body--if you're not "called" to preach or can't sing or play an instrument, you're pretty much rendered ineffective and plopped down into a pew as part of the "audience" during that thing we like to call the "worship service". Issues...I have big ones on this subject. If we are the body...why aren't His hands painting/writing/shooting photos/recognized as having a purpose?

Apparently, I have things to say about this...I intended to just post this without comment.

There are churches with strange names. Like Threads.

People in church dress in shorts and blue jeans and have tattoos and piercings.

Rock bands play worship music, which sometimes includes tunes by Pink Floyd or The Who. Church music also includes Gregorian Chant and Native American flute compositions.

Sometimes you sit in silent meditation or practice Lectio Divina.

You break into small groups during the spiritual talk and discuss things with people you met just seconds ago.

Multisensory elements are part of the worship gathering and could include chair races, Let’s Make a Deal game shows, tying strings around each others’ wrists, journaling on a prayer wall, or having someone tattooed during the spiritual talk. An art gallery is part of the sanctuary.

Lee, the pastor, makes a point each week of welcoming visitors who might not believe in God but are just there to ask questions. Church is for asking questions.

Lee, the pastor, likes people to just call him Lee.

In church there are middle-class married professionals with families. In church there are ex-heroin addicts, former alcoholics, ex-porn addicts, former abusers, those formerly abused, and physically and mentally impaired people.

There are no programs, no men’s ministry, no women’s ministry, no youth services, no single’s groups. Your pastor believes in people saying no to doing too much so they don’t burn out in church ministry.

There are people who meet in community groups all thrown together regardless of age, gender or marital status. Not all the people leading groups or in groups are Christ followers. Some are skeptics with lots of questions. (Church and community groups are for asking questions.)

You don’t know who your pastor votes for because you don’t talk about politics in church. In church there are very conservative Republicans and very liberal Democrats.

You don’t use Christianese words because you exist for the unchurched and some words might make others feel excluded.

The pastor is humble and full of love for God and people, and with his words draws people into a deeper encounter with the love of Christ. The elders ask who would miss our church if it disappeared tomorrow, and that leads them to meet with the mayor to find out where we are needed in our community.

There are no church gatherings one Sunday so you can take busses to one of the rougher parts of town to do energy audits so people can receive new insulated windows through a grant.

No offerings are taken, there’s just a giving box at the back of church.

Church friends don’t think it’s odd if you have friends that are atheists, Buddhists or gay.

You learn that the heart of a church is serving others instead of coming to be served.

At Christmas you decide to “worship more, spend less, give more and love all” and raise enough money to build several wells for villages in Africa.

You find out church is not a building, but people with a deep love for God who want to live life in community with each other and love and serve others.

You discover (I discover) that this spiritual community is family, and you are home.

Dena quoting Longbrake quoting Jong...

2008-01-30T17:30:00.000-06:00

...worthy of a repeat performance:

On Love & Risk
Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything that it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.
-Erica Jong

Thinking very seriously on that last sentence. Sometimes I want to take the "no risk" path for my own self-protection, but I always seem to come back to the conclusion that, if I don't risk, I don't really live. Love is tough. LIFE is tough. I see people all around me who are hurt--to the point of devastation, even--by the end result of their choice to love someone who walked away/violated the trust/broke the promise/repeated the whispered confession/refused to respond. Fill in the blank with a million different things.

And then I see those "happy plastic people"--the ones who don't risk, who guard their heart behind a safe brick wall. They're unbruised and unscarred and unruffled--hair combed in place, pants neatly pressed and creased, collars starched and stiff. Smiles starched and stiff. Plastic. Their hearts playing house in the safety of a gated community. Plastic. Happy? Umm...

There's just too much to lose on that road. I don't want to risk missing life in the fullest...even if it means devastating sorrow at times. That kind of sorrow pushes me to look up, to reach up...to soar to the heights of happiness and giddiness and all the wonderful stuff that comes with loving people.

Me...

2008-01-19T10:58:00.000-06:00

...in a cartoon nutshell!

Invisible Writing...

2008-01-12T16:39:00.000-06:00

I took down my Christmas tree today. Usually a sad day for me, but for some reason, this year was different. It's nice to have at least a small sense of accomplishment--of packing up the old to make room for the new, of paring down and reordering. This year is starting out strangely for me...first, I made resolutions and now I'm glad the tree is down. Weird stuff in my house.

So...most of the ornaments on my tree are handmade, but there are a few exceptions. Like the series of Starbucks holiday ornaments I have. I've been collecting them since 2004.

Until this year, my 2004 ornament had a date written on it in black Sharpie--a commemoration of a "first date" with someone with whom I thought, at the time, there would be many more dates and many Christmases to celebrate. Not so. As I've unpacked the ornaments the past few years, I've looked at that date and "unpacked" a truckload of memories as well. This year, I unwrapped the 2004 ornament, armed myself with a rag and some rubbing alcohol and scrubbed the writing off. Gone. Kind of.

Thing is, I still "see" the now-invisible writing. It's a memory. And not only is it a memory, it's a shaper of my "today". Part of the pages of the yesterdays that make the story of my life what it is today. I can look at that ornament and still see with my mind's eye the writing that was there for 3 years, even though it's not visible to anyone else. But people can look at me and see the indelible ink of the past written all over me...whether or not they even recognize it as such. And isn't it so with everyone?

My friends Jon and Nate recently lost their father. I never met their dad--my only knowledge of him is through their eyes, but he must have been an amazing man to have left the impression that he did on his sons' lives. I'm grateful for the pages he helped to write of the chapters of their pasts, grateful for the integrity and strength and character and honesty he inked on the pages of their growing-up years.

Another friend recently went through an ugly divorce--from a cheating, lying, scheming, abusive man. His writing on her pages was ugly and harsh and cruel...and his pen slashed its way through those previous chapters and still bleeds ink onto her todays. Not so invisible. Not so easy to work around. Maybe someday she'll be able to turn to a fresh, clean, undamaged page and write something beautiful again.

And aren't we all like that? We're just books...of words and illustrations written on our collected yesterdays by people who might have loved us or hated us--people who left their marks, invisible or not, in various chapters of our stories. I see now (I haven't always) that my story is beautiful, even with the "ugly" pages scattered here and there--and, really, if it weren't for those messed-up, ink-splattered, icky pages, I wouldn't have nearly as much appreciation for the ones where all the words fit together in cohesive, amazingly-crafted, profound (sometimes!) sentences. I love my story.

So, it's ok that, when I look at a Starbucks ornament, I see invisible writing that no one else sees. It's ok that my life didn't go according to that plan. It's really ok that there's a better plan than the one I had in mind. And it's pretty cool to me that someone else might look at my little collection of ornaments (and at me) and see, instead of someone hanging onto yesterday, a woman who's (kind of) got her shit together, loves today, and can't wait to write on tomorrow's page.

...No Longer to Linger...

2008-01-08T19:54:00.000-06:00

In 2008, I am (semi) resolved to:

Continue the no fast food (year #2)/no soda (year #3) plan.
Remove (again) as much processed sugar as possible from my diet.
Start (for real, not just think about) exercising regularly (walking).
Take more photos and get serious about learning good technique, instead of just winging it.
Write more (and better quality) stuff--here and elsewhere.
Lose (ugh!!) 30 pounds...and keep it off for at least 6 weeks so I can win $100. :-)
Make a list of books I want to read.
And then read them.
REALLY learn some basic Spanish.
Visit Katie in Montana this summer.
Suck it up at my workplace and do the best job I can for the next 2 years so I can get out of there and do something I enjoy for the rest of my days.
Practice intentional community.
Focus on the "nows"...revel in the moments, soak up the experiences.
Allow God more access...and become more teachable...and more cognizant of his teachable moments.

That should keep me busy for awhile!

Cuteness...

2008-01-07T00:15:00.000-06:00

This is what happens when you tell someone she looks like a "frumpy old woman" in her beautiful new furry purple hat--you have to pose for a picture with the old frump, wearing said hat yourself! ;-)

All in all, I would say this was a wonderful Christmas season--I mean, we're both still smiling genuine smiles after spending 2 whole weeks together...that says a lot!

Takin' me some stock, turnin' me some pages...

2008-01-06T12:27:00.000-06:00

So. I'm not much on the whole "new year's resolutions" thing. January 1 is just another day...just another flip of a calendar page. It's no more momentous than...oh, say, April 21, or September 17 or December 11.

But. It is, upon occasion, perfectly acceptable (and advisable, even) to sit down, tear the past apart, view it with a critical eye, and give some thought to the days ahead, be they the wintry days of January, the Ides of March, the Summer Solstice...or just plain old next week.

If you need a reminder of what the last few months have been like for me, read a few posts down. 'Nuff said. And in the midst of the flurry of retrospection/introspection going on here, I've realized I've enjoyed the thick cape of anger and resentment in which I've wrapped myself since September. SO...I guess the word for this day, this week, this month--maybe even the entire year--is going to be "forgive". Not sure I really like the taste of that on my tongue. REALLY not sure I like the feeling of being stripped naked. I kind of liked that cape.

But. (Again.) I read this guy's blog today. And it nailed me. So, amidst the other "resolutions" I'm considering (stay tuned--I'm feeling the need to make myself accountable), forgiveness is going to be a biggie. I don't want to be weak and self-righteous. Or otherwise ugly. Here's part of what he had to say:

Forgive Those Who Have Wronged You
"Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." (Romans 12:19-21)

In the course of a year, it is possible to build up many offenses and personal grievances at others. Left unaddressed, these grievances fester and grow. They turn the heart black and the body weak. They foster a spirit of vengeance and misguided self-righteousness. The short of it is this: Unforgiveness leads to bitterness. Bitterness curdles the mind and the spirit.

Fresh starts and new years should begin with forgiveness for others. Having a genuine spirit of forgiveness towards those who have wronged us is a mark of biblical Christianity. It is an evidence that we have been redeemed, and that we are praying lawfully: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors” (Matthew 6:12).

Successful Christians are men and women who are free from bitterness. They have learned the principle modeled by our Lord Jesus Christ who, while suffering death at the hands of people he had never wronged, was able to say “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:24).

Bitterness comes from being unwilling to forgive. Bitter people are small people. They are unsuccessful people. They are people who cannot move forward. They are people who believe that the personal wrongs against them are so great that they — the offended — are entitled to do to their offenders what they pray the Lord Jesus Christ will never do to them: refuse to forgive.

OK Go - Here It Goes Again

2008-01-06T00:27:00.001-06:00

Still my favorite video. Because I needed a smile. Maybe you do, too.

Oh, yeah, baby...

2007-12-29T11:51:00.000-06:00

Check out the pie!!

It's a beautiful thing, really. I'm going in to the new year with over 25% of my outstanding debt paid off, still completely on track to be out of debt in a year (barring any unforeseen circumstances), very little Christmas debt on my credit card (nothing I won't pay this month--unlike previous years)...and feeling like I'm missing absolutely NOTHING. Because I'm not. My focus has been on people and relationships instead of STUFF this year and it's been wonderful. I'm blessed.

Mourning to dancing...

2007-12-20T23:41:00.000-06:00

The past few months have not been good ones for my church. In late October, our pastor resigned after confessing to "indiscretions with a female church member". At that point, I hadn't attended a Sunday morning service for a month, because I'd gotten tired of sobbing or fighting off panic attacks. Yes, it was that bad.

And it got worse after the resignation, as people who knew the story or thought they knew the story or didn't even pretend to know the story (but staunchly maintained that our former pastor was a horribly mistreated, great guy because he visited them when they were in the hospital and didn't deserve to be "fired" [wasn't] just because of a few [umm, yeah] text messages and emails and clandestine meetings) all decided to go to war with one another. Can you say "happy church family", boys and girls? Sure, you can. But you wouldn't be describing MY church.

But in the midst of the anger and hurt and deep heartache, there are strong remnants of the beautiful body...and they shine even in their time of mourning. I was part of one of those shining moments tonight.

A beautiful 13 week-old baby has been diagnosed with a digestive problem that may require immediate surgery. What did her parents do when they heard the news? They called the church and requested that people gather to pray for her tonight before she sees the surgeon tomorrow. And we did. Tonight, many of us gathered at the altar in the dimly lit sanctuary, anointed her with oil, encircled her and prayed for her healing.

And as we prayed, I felt another kind of healing taking place. This was the body, acting like a body. We weren't "in" the church, we weren't acting in whatever self-righteous way "good" church people act...we were BEING the church. And in "being", we were being healed. I stood and watched people laughing and talking and lingering long after we were done with the "business" we'd come for and sensed a spirit of joy and hopefulness that's been long-absent. It's a step, it's a beginning. It's a good beginning.

"Where Are You, Christmas?"

2007-12-16T13:15:00.000-06:00

I mentioned this song in the last post--I love the lyrics, so I thought I'd post them.

"Where Are You Christmas"

Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can't I hear music play
My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean
Christmas changes too

Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go

Christmas is here
Everywhere, oh
Christmas is here
If you care, oh
If there is love in your heart and your mind
You will feel like Christmas all the time

I feel you Christmas
I know I've found you
You never fade away
The joy of Christmas
Stays here inside us
Fills each and every heart with love

Where are you Christmas
Fill your heart with love

The Advent Conspiracy...

2007-12-12T07:43:00.000-06:00

Hmm. THIS is an interesting way of looking at the insanity that's become the "holiday shopping season". People sometimes look at me like I have little green men sprouting out of the top of my head when I talk about Christmas spun out of control--it's beyond my comprehension that people (like me) give such wildly extravagant gifts with reckless abandon in the guise of celebrating Jesus. Anyway...check out the website if you're interested in learning more.

ADVENT CONSPIRACY

When Christ was born the empire was threatened and as a result Herod, who was one of the more powerful kings of the day, ordered the killing of all the boys two years old and under who were in Bethlehem. The reason for this was that he hoped to take out the child-King that posed a threat to his kingdom.

While we are not living under Herod’s reign, there is another empire of consumerism and materialism that threatens our faithfulness to Jesus. Jesus brought with him such an extraordinary Kingdom that is counter-culture to the kingdoms of this world.

Part of saying “yes” to Jesus means that we say “no” to over-spending. We say “no” to overconsumption. We say “no” to these things so we can create space to say “yes” to Jesus and His reign in our lives. The National Retail Federation was forecasting that Americans would spend approximately $457.4 billion at Christmas in 2006. The American Research group estimated an average of $907.00 per family to be spent at Christmas in 2006. After the Holiday we work for months to get out of debt, only to find that the presents we bought in the name of Christ furthered a consumerist mentality in us and our children and took our focus off of the greatness of Jesus. As Christ-followers, the Advent Conspiracy starts with us resisting a culture that tells us what to buy, wear and spend with no regard to bringing glory to Jesus.