tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30325863116465298712023-11-16T08:39:09.829-05:00pondering every morselI ponder every morsel of wisdom from you...
~Psalm 119Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.comBlogger235125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-25842986457858870042013-08-13T22:02:00.001-04:002013-08-13T22:02:42.621-04:00come visit me on Sunburst StreetI invited anyone who followed and enjoyed my ponderings to join me on my new blog, just getting started: <a href="http://sunburststreet.blogspot.com/">Sunburst Street.</a><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ueFTz3owufQ" width="420"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-66597602693296232612013-05-17T22:58:00.000-04:002013-05-17T23:14:40.236-04:00more walking, less ponderingI think this blog has breathed its last. Not that I won't write, but new words need a new canvas. <br />
<br />
The season of pondering has been rich for me; wrestling through issues and questions in writing, as I have - it never felt like a choice. I <i><b>had</b></i> to do it. When I failed to, it literally seemed as though I couldn't breathe. And so I pondered out loud., and some of you pondered with me. And I'm eternally grateful.<br />
<br />
Lately, gradually, there's been a shift. Questions that so needed challenging and issues that so demanded my voice, have begun to settle. I no longer need to argue those points, with others <i><b>or</b></i> with myself. Not because all the questions are answered. Some are. On some issues I can give an assured, "This is done." But most aren't ... (especially the big ones). <br />
<br />
What's changed isn't necessarily profound. If I'm completely honest, I'm just not that interested anymore. Maybe it's like your favorite song? You can't get enough of it ... until you <i><b>do</b></i>, and then one day you find yourself changing the channel when it comes on the radio. Is it like that? Or maybe I've just outgrown certain things, or - more specifically - certain ways? Sounds awfully arrogant when I say it out loud like that, but maybe that <i><b>is </b></i>a part of it. I really can't say.<br />
<br />
Some changes <i><b>are</b></i> obvious, though. After 13 years as a "stay at home mom", I went back to work full time this past fall. I support exceptional children (previously known as special ed) at our local public elementary school, and my first year is drawing to a close. This has been a major life transition. I enjoyed a window of time there where all four of our children were in school, and I was free - free to volunteer, visit, write, walk, even sleep. Free to blog and to read, to walk labyrinths and hike trails, free to sit by lakes and under trees and outside coffee shops and just ... think. And it was awesome! I don't regret taking any of that time. <br />
<br />
But things are different, now.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Bad</b></i> different? No. I mean, I'm tired - God knows I'm tired. But the truth is, I was getting kind of ... bored. I'm finding that some lessons are learned only in the walking, and -<i> this time</i> - I don't mean a labyrinth or an easy stroll around a pond. I mean hard work walking - exhausted, burden-carrying walking. That's been the path, lately, as I'm challenged - daily - to show patience, compassion, and wisdom for 8 hours straight to people (big and small) who test me in every way imaginable (as I'm sure I do, them). Don't get me wrong, I feel the best of me come alive when I'm teaching, I absolutely love it! But the days are tiring as hell, and I'm also committed to love my own family well, afterward.<br />
<br />
That part has actually been interesting. I worried that I'd be irritable and annoyed with my own four children, after spending all day with students. While I'm not going to lie and say that never happens, more often there's been something else - something I hadn't anticipated. I come away from work with an actual longing for my kids; not just happy to see them, but grateful in the core of my soul. Hard as it is sometimes, I actually know now that we're getting a lot of stuff right. And I confess: I'm enjoying that affirmation. Even on their roughest days (and oh, have there been some this year!) a solid, weighty center of peace has grown within me, that the direction we're taking as parents is good and right and difference-making. I'm so immensely grateful ...<br />
<br />
I've also been humbled this year; not figuratively, quite literally. I am an<i><b> assistant</b></i>. Not an administrator, not a team leader, not even a teacher - an assistant (at least, for now). If you know me at all, you know that this <b><i>alone</i></b>, is humbling. I've also faced specific situations that, despite all my dedication and diligence and determination, have been outside of my ability to fix. Rather than be shamed or defeated by this, I've had to <i><b>choose</b></i> to be humbled, which - I feel the need to point out - is a vastly different thing. <br />
<br />
So, what's to come? I'm not sure. I may blog under a new title on a new site, less about pondering and more about practice. About being. About humility and reality and how our addiction to the ideal can make us useless cynics rather than dirty-handed world changers. <br />
<br />
I may do that, I may not.<br />
<br />
I'm also working on a separate project that won't be shared until it's complete. I've never been much of a fiction writer, but stories are coming to me now - stories based loosely on actual experiences and characters, which (I suppose) begs the quote, "<i>Careful, or I'll put you in my novel</i>". <br />
<br />
I <i><b>will</b></i> do that.<br />
<br />
And if I forget ... if I start to doubt that I have anything at all to say ... I ask you not to nag me, but - instead - to remind me. Remind me of the words of <a href="http://frederickbuechner.com/content/open-vein">Frederick Buechner</a> and <a href="http://www.thewritersworkshop.net/wordpress/2013/05/02/great-advice-on-writing-from-anne-lamott/">Anne Lamott</a> and ... well ... <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/11/its-that-time-of-night-where-heat-has.html">Michelle McConnell</a>. <br />
<br />
Finally, thank you. In all seriousness and with heartfelt sincerity ...<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">thank you</span></b>.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-50253898417101785422013-03-17T16:44:00.000-04:002013-03-17T16:44:03.488-04:00pondering graceIt's been a long while since I posted here. To be honest, it's been a long while since I wrote anything at all... of any length, anyway. I guess sometimes you need a push - like your pastor asking you to share a little something about grace during one of the Lenten services. I've enjoyed hearing from different folks in our congregation over the past few weeks. This morning was my turn, and this is what I said:<br />
<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I was a little girl, I was told a story about grace.
It went something like this...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God made a perfect world, but we humans are sorry,
ungrateful creatures. We disobeyed God. In fact, we made such a
mess of things that we can't even be near Him. Then Jesus, His Son, said
"Look, how about I go down there and live a perfect life, then die for
their sins? That way, when you look at them you'll see me instead."
To which God huffed a resentful "Fine". So Jesus did just that, and if
we believe in Him, He'll save us from God’s wrath. The End.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Amazing Grace, how ... sweet? the sound... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Granted, over the years - as I was introduced to various
theological interpretations - my understanding of grace grew more
sophisticated, but one core truth always remained: God didn't like me
very much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no choice but to
love me, but if it weren't for that deal He made with Jesus, nothing would make
him happier than to drop me into a pit of burning flame (courtesy of Jonathan
Edwards). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There's a problem with this story. Well, there
are a <i><b>lot</b></i> of problems with this story, but the biggest one is this - it doesn't
work. When you really need saving, this grace is too small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In 2002 we moved a 3 year old, 2 year old, and 2 week old
from my home state of Virginia, to Charlotte. Just months before, our oldest
had been diagnosed with autism, so before I’d even had a chance figure out how
to get to the grocery store, I jumped into specialists' appointments and IEP
meetings. What we didn't know at the time was that I was also physically
sick. All I knew was that I felt completely inadequate. Overwhelmed.
Exhausted. And eventually, Hopeless ... Ashamed ... Depressed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I needed saving - not from hell after I die, or from some
theological abstraction we call "sin". I needed grace to get out of
the bed in the morning, to put food into my mouth and swallow it, to smile at
my husband, to not scream at my children ... to keep breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I needed saving in the worst way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What saved me wasn't the grace of a cosmic legal
transaction or a magic prayer of conversion. I was saved - I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am
being</i></b> saved - by a simple but profound truth. I am dearly loved.
Extravagantly, immensely loved. Freedom came in renouncing lies I'd agreed to
and rejecting ugly pictures of God painted for me by others, and instead daring
to embrace what I'd longed to believe all along: God is Love. And
God loves us. All. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is what is saving me today: recognizing that
Grace is Light, Love, Power from an ultimate source of Good that never runs
dry, available to me at every moment. Grace is the sun on my face, the
wind in the trees – grace is the air I’m breathing in right now, then back out again as I speak these
very words. Grace is a force that literally changes the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus LIVED grace, and invites me to do
the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is often harder to believe than the story I'd been
told as a child. As far-fetched as that one sometimes sounds, it’s neat - wrapped up
and clean. THIS grace? It's scandalous! And the more I grow
in it, the more confused I become about what I know for sure and what I don't. So
I try to stick to what I DO know:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pass what has been given me on to others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I do, I continue to be awed by the sweet sound ... of <b>amazing grace.</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-42335706805964284812012-12-28T11:07:00.000-05:002012-12-28T11:09:30.355-05:00pondering open hands with Henri NouwenMet with a friend over coffee. Just as so many times before, I found myself recommending <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Open-Hands-Henri-J-Nouwen/dp/1594710643">this book</a>.<br />
<br />
Not as <b><i>another</i></b> book (how cliche and lame to offer a hurting person a book?), but as a paradigm shift. As an invitation to a completely new path.<br />
<br />
Open hands - for the new year, for the next moment ... for life.<br />
<br />
A sample:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
To pray means to open your hands before God. It means slowly relaxing the tension which squeezes your hands together and accepting your existence with an increasing readiness, not as a possession to defend, but as a gift to receive. Above all, prayer is a way of life which allows you to find a stillness in the midst of the world where you open your hands to god's promises and find hope for yourself, your neighbor, and your world...<br />
Praying is not simply some necessary compartment in the daily schedule or a source of support in a time of need. Prayer is living. It is eating and drinking, action and rest, teaching and learning, playing and working. Praying pervades every aspect of our lives. It is the unceasing recognition that God is wherever we are, always inviting us to come closer and to celebrate the divine gift of being alive.<br />
In the end, a life of prayer is a life with open hands - a life where we are not ashamed of our weaknesses but realize that it is more perfect for us to be led by the Other than to try to hold everything in our clenched fists.</blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-28574249958761643532012-12-17T00:08:00.000-05:002012-12-17T00:08:22.851-05:00pondering sad news
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We have avoided talking to our children about the tragedy that occurred in Connecticut on Friday. Why not let them remain blissfully unaware as long as possible? But it can wait no longer. Tomorrow we all go back to school - I as a teacher, they as students. Conversations will take place that I'll have no control over. It must be done.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I pondered. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And then I wrote this... (meant for each, individually)</div>
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<blockquote>
Hey there,</blockquote>
<blockquote>
We had a great weekend, didn’t we? I loved it!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
While we’ve been having fun, though, some people who live in
Connecticut have been going through a really sad time. See, on Friday morning a
young man – 20 years old – walked into an elementary school with several loaded
guns. He shot and killed a few adults and lots of children that he didn’t even
know. It was horrible. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
You’re probably wondering why anyone would do something like
that. That is a very good question. That’s what everyone is wondering. As your
parents, we like to give answers for tough questions – or, even better, guide
you as you try to find them out for yourself. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
But here’s the thing ... no one knows the answer to that
question. Not your Dad. Not me. Not Pastor Nancy. Not even the President!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, he went to Connecticut to try and
cheer up the people who are sad, and he said the same thing I’m saying right
now:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> a horrible thing happened, and </span>we don’t know why. (<i>personally, I'm most suspicious of those who claim to</i>)</blockquote>
<blockquote>
We <b><i>do</i></b> know this, though. We know that we need to love one another - really hard and really well - because we ALWAYS get it right when we love each other. What happened is scary, but there is
<b><i>no fear</i></b> in love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Love is always right and good and true, so we need to make that our focus. </span>We can’t let the little
things that annoy us cause us to treat one another badly. We have to let that
stuff go, showing mercy and compassion to one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> We have to take the time to do and say those things that remind the people around us how much we care.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
The only thing that can overcome darkness is LIGHT and the only thing
that can overcome evil is LOVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You are <i style="font-weight: bold;">so loved. </i>I believe that love - along with every other perfect and beautiful gift - comes from God. Your life is full of God’s
grace!</blockquote>
<blockquote>
We are sad for the people in Connecticut today – that is
right and normal. But we will not let it take away our peace or our joy. We
will be heroes today. <b><i>You</i></b> can be a <b><i>hero</i></b> - TODAY – did you know that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By taking the grace that’s been given
to you, and giving it away to someone else, you can turn that person's entire day
around. In fact, you did that yesterday in church! You made SO MANY
people happy with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ColcBi6i3RI">your play and songs</a>. Some of those people were sad just like
the people in Connecticut, but <b><i>you</i></b> made them happy. That's hero stuff.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Will you do that today, too? Show love to someone who needs
it. Give a smile or a compliment or an offer of help - and don’t worry if they don’t notice or thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t matter if they love you back, because
you know you’ll get more than you could possibly need back here at home.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
God is always with you. <b><i>Always</i></b>. And so is my love.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>See
you this afternoon,<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
Love,<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mom</blockquote>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-41431046153166889392012-12-10T19:54:00.000-05:002012-12-10T19:54:46.712-05:00a cyber-greeting as 2012 draws to a close<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OhnC2A-DLIU?rel=0" width="640"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-90931283130083063842012-11-20T11:27:00.000-05:002013-05-17T23:20:50.156-04:00pondering gratitude in a not-right worldIt's that time of night, where the heat has finally caught up to the chill. I wake to pull off my long-sleeved pajama top, which has become unnecessary, and glance at the clock as I lay back down: 2 AM.<br />
<br />
Sleep eludes me. I crawl out of bed, stumble in the dark to dress, and step outside. Here in Gordonsville, Va, where we are enjoying a mini-vacation, the stars shine with brilliance against the truly dark sky of the countryside. I gaze as long as I can stand the cold, then head back in to the warmth of the cabin.<br />
<br />
That's when I remember, with a pang, what my son had said earlier in the day: <b><i>"It isn't right".</i></b><br />
<br />
We were in the historical district of downtown Charlottesville. I'd watched him hand a man a large hot coffee with cream and sugar, pet his dog for a moment, smile and say, "I think he really loves you!", then walk back toward me. We took a few silent steps together, then he heaved a loud, heavy sigh and exclaimed,<br />
<br />
"It isn't right. It isn't right for him to be out here like that. People shouldn't live outdoors in the cold. People should have homes that are warm, where people love them." <br />
<br />
I stopped walking. My other son, his younger brother - who had been watching and listening, too - stopped, as well. I looked them both in the eye. <br />
<br />
"You're right. Listen to me: YOU. ARE. RIGHT. What you just saw is wrong. It shouldn't be. It has to stop, and it's up to YOU (looking at both of them) to stop it."<br />
<br />
They both gaped a bit, but I continued,<br />
<br />
"Your generation has to fix this. You have to make them care enough to make it right. My generation has a few who care, but most are content so long as it's not them sitting with their back against a cold brick wall. In fact, if more people sitting out in the cold means they get more stuff, all the better. It's wrong. Look at me: MAKE IT RIGHT!"<br />
<br />
Out of the corner of my eye I could see my husband talking to our girls, as well. The boys' little sisters were getting the same message.<br />
<br />
I then comforted my son with information I could only hope was true, that the man would sleep inside tonight. That people from a shelter or a church would care for him, as our family has done multiple times through Room at the Inn. But inside I wondered... he didn't look like he'd had a chance to clean up in quite a while. I doubted he was willing to leave his dog behind, or that shelters allowed him to bring it along. As I looked back, his dog was licking his face; I felt sick at the thought of such a choice.<br />
<br />
Back in my warm cabin, I think about the man and the coffee and the dog and my son. I go to the restroom to look in the mirror. 3 AM looks rough on anybody. I have bags under my eyes, my unwashed hair is matted to my head ... how long would it take for entropy to take over, leaving me indistinguishable from those on the street?<br />
<br />
Weeks?<br />
<br />
<i>Days? </i><br />
<br />
Someone once told me my problem is that I feel guilty for what I have, that I am ashamed of my success and status in the world. Was he right? I don't know, maybe. Is it wrong to feel that way? I'm not convinced of that, either. I'd like to think that I'm grateful, but what does that even mean? Often, when people express gratitude, it sounds a lot like they are saying, "I'm glad someone else is suffering instead of me". Is it so wrong to feel that <i>none</i> should suffer? To <i>not</i> be satisfied? Is that ingratitude? I hope not. I don't know...<br />
<br />
I think, again, about my son. It wasn't a question for him. It wasn't something he was pondering. He'd made a decisive statement,<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>"It's not right!"</i></b><br />
<br />
Turning my thoughts back to him brings a hopeful reminder. I recall how, a couple of years ago, I'd attended the Global Leadership Summit. What I'd found most inspiring about all the speakers was a central thread each one had in common. From <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/search?q=cory+booker">Cory Booker</a> to <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/search?q=mama+maggie">Mama Maggie</a>, they'd all expressed some version of the same story:<br />
<br />
"My parents worked hard and made sure we had everything we needed. But with that, they instilled in us a calling, a challenge, a holy duty - that to whom much is given, much is required. You are blessed, to bless - we have given to you, so that you will go make the world better for others."<br />
<br />
And they'd done it. <br />
<br />
<br />
I crawl back into bed, grateful ... Yes, that I'm not leaning against a cold brick wall. Yes, that I have a bed to crawl into and someone to share it with. Yes, that my children are healthy and safe and warm and fed... but also immensely grateful that the challenge is taking root in their souls, and for the <b><i>hope</i></b> it brings, that - because of them - the future will be more "right" than the present.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-32675069048974259242012-09-30T06:38:00.000-04:002012-09-30T06:38:04.670-04:00pondering my wordsThe last words posted here were my most "successful" yet.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Brian McLaren linked the post.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was widely shared.<br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And ... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>I haven't written since.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A month and a half.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No words.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Why?</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I could say that I'm busy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That would be true.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I could say that I was wounded.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That is also true.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But maybe </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm actually</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
just afraid.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And so maybe the words I need to say most</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Are simply those.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Out loud.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>Sometimes</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I am still afraid.</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have more to say</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
More to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ks6Kiw_PuyI">sing</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So much more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGKfrgqWcv0">waiting</a> ...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pondering</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Till the words return.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-37567747409013364782012-08-10T10:25:00.001-04:002012-08-10T17:38:42.312-04:00pondering our evening at the Sikh Gurdwara<br />
From <u>Dare We Hope That All Men be Saved</u> by Hans Urs von Balthasar: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
In cases where love prevails, extending directly to one's neighbor and valuing him as one's own self, "one can wish and hope the same thing for another that one desires and hopes for oneself. And as it is the same virtue of love through which one loves God, oneself and one's neighbor, so, too, it is the same virtue of hope through which one hopes for oneself and for the other." (Aquinas) The question that hovers in the background, and remains unstated, is how far this love extends.... </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Hans-Jurgen Verweyen, in an essay entitled "Das Leben alley als ausserster Horizont der Christologie" (The Life of all as the outermost horizon of Christology"), has at least posed this question. He puts forth this thesis: </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"<i><b>Whoever reckons with the possibility of even only one person's being eternally lost besides himself is unable to love unreservedly</b></i>." And he stresses here, above all, "The effect of this idea on my practical actions.<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b> It seems to me that just the slightest nagging thought of a final hell for others brings on moments in which human togetherness becomes especially difficult."</b></i></span></blockquote>
I think Verweyen nails the practical implication of the western church's hell doctrine. Human togetherness, a brotherhood of man? Nonexistent. But oh! When I followed that tug in my soul, laid my finger upon the invisible thread determined to see where it led... I found myself on the outside of such 'truth', looking back upon it as one who has wiped her eyes from a bleary sleep. And I can tell you, the light is brighter out here - the air is clearer - and Love is richer. I can Love my fellow man with no reserve. I can stand in solidarity with any sufferer, in the Spirit of Jesus Himself who laid down His life "while we were yet sinners". This is sweet fruit.<br />
<br />
I recently experienced a practical manifestation of this change in thinking - indeed, in living. My friend <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/missionalshift/">Steve Knight</a> made me aware that our local Sikh community would be holding a vigil and that all were welcome. All are welcome to any of their services, but this particular evening we were invited to stand with them in solidarity and remembrance of the victims in Wisconsin.<br />
<br />
I decided to bring Aaron and Sarah along, while Eric talked to Luke and Mary about it from home. The time is coming when they will come to things like this with us as well, but their unique challenges require us to take things at a different pace. Aaron and Sarah were both surprisingly eager - I think it was more curiosity, than anything else. Sarah's eyes did light up when I told her she'd need a scarf that could be worn as a head covering, "They'll have to help me wrap it right - I want to look like them because I think that will make them feel good."<br />
<br />
We enetered the Gurdwara, clearly not knowing what to do, but it was obvious we were not the only visitors. The gentlemen shooed Aaron off to the men's area where they removed his shoes and assisted him in applying a bandana type of head covering (I hadn't thought about a boy needing one). As Sarah and I removed our shoes she spoke up, asking an older lady to please help make her scarf look right. The lady kindly explained that it was called a "choony" and that there was no wrong way, as long as it stays on, while arranging it for her in an attractive way. We followed her in, and noticed that the men sat on one side and the women on the other- all on the floor. Aaron bravely took a spot on his own, as Sarah and I took ours. Before long a lady kindly told us that it is disrespectful to sit with your feet facing the front, that is why they either sit cross-legged or with legs folded to one side. Sarah thought that was interesting. She continued by saying that even in their homes, they never point their feet toward an elder, out of respect. Sarah looked at me with large eyes - I too, was surprised. It would take me quite some time to learn to pay attention to which direction my feet were pointing. But I loved the concept of respect.<br />
<br />
As the service began there was a lot of singing, accompanied by two instruments - one a bit like a large accordion, and a drum. Best we could tell, it was actually one long hymn. They sang in the Punjabi language, but the English translations were provided on screens via powperpoint. I wish I could remember all of them, so many were beautiful - but this one stuck in my mind, because Sarah pointed it out: <b><i> </i></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i> "The clay is the same, but the Fashioner has fashioned it in various ways."</i></b></span></div>
<br />
After the singing, a man gave a powerpoint presentation explaining the history of the Sikh faith. It was both interesting and educational; I found it especially helpful to think about the Sikh faith rising up in India about the same time the Renaissance was taking place in Europe. It was unheard of in India that a people would live in true equality, but they did - it was daring and new and required a great deal of conviction to live out these "new" values. They have suffered persecution in many ways, often as a result of standing up for others; one guru was tortured to death for demanding the rights of Hindus be protected.<br />
<br />
When he finished his presentation, a woman explained that, in conclusion, we would be served the rashad (?) which I can only compare to our communion, but instead of bread and wine, they use pudding. Yes, pudding! (I'd love to know why) Aaron received his before we did - he shot me a worried look but I nodded him on to try it. He took a bite and his face did not show whether he liked it or not, so I was proud. By the time some was brought to Sarah and I (we were further back than him) I could already see that the "pudding' was more of a warm, wet dough. As they placed a ball of it in our hands, we smelled it and thought it smelled a bit like sugar cookie dough, but it tasted much less sweet than you'd expect. Sarah has massive sensory issues so I was proud she tried it, and that she (too) didn't let her face register whether or not she thought it was particularly good. <br />
<br />
After they shared the rashad (sp?), their sacred book was carried out - on a man's head! Now, that's not something we've ever seen Pastor Nancy do! All very interesting.<br />
<br />
Immediately following the service, we were invited downstairs for a meal. I dismissed the kids to play on the grounds, where we'd seen a trampoline and an impressive play area complete with rope swings that I'd have tried myself if I hadn't been wearing a dress. The food was delicious, but I was disappointed when we (the most obvious guests, aka "white") were directed to sit at tables in the courtyard, while the regular members sat on the floor inside. I wanted to sit where they were, but Steve reminded me that we were being given the honored position and we should accept that with humble gratitude. So, reluctantly, I did.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljKjesy2Q8_uxp7XsTMiyn_hnmCM_dG_HGFZaWg-jwLazE0z_fgVnd0n7aSERDgRhL1dfXiRjIQbLUpkmlfBHqPL49hCVB3YKjqcW7EbDna6lNIk48LsxF-9fMPCPgajHIny78BFFLdM/s1600/sikh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljKjesy2Q8_uxp7XsTMiyn_hnmCM_dG_HGFZaWg-jwLazE0z_fgVnd0n7aSERDgRhL1dfXiRjIQbLUpkmlfBHqPL49hCVB3YKjqcW7EbDna6lNIk48LsxF-9fMPCPgajHIny78BFFLdM/s320/sikh.jpg" width="320" /></a>Following the meal, everyone gathered in front of the temple for the candlelight vigil. Five girls from their community read aloud a letter written by a 10 year old Sikh girl - "touching" doesn't do it justice. Then various faith leaders shared words of condolence and comfort - <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/steve-knight/what-i-said-to-the-sikh-community-in-charlotte-north-carolina_b_1758467.html">including our own Steve Knight</a>. He said that as a Christian, his sacred text instructs him to rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn. I couldn't think of anything better to say. He also spoke of the common hopes and dreams we share, for ourselves and for our children; as he choked up over the words, I found myself doing the same.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There are some who would say - no, who <b><i>do</i></b> say - that Steve is <b><i>less</i></b> christian because of the inter-faith work he does. I stood there listening, watching - as his children and my children did the same ... and I knew better. I observed these beautiful people - girls smiling and laughing under their colorful "choonies", toddler-aged boys being chased by men in turbans who were struggling to keep them still and quiet, older women patting my children on the shoulder with sad smiles. I loved these people. I'd just met them, and I loved them. <br />
<br />
<i><b>I had no reason not to. </b></i><br />
<br />
I no longer have the nagging whisper inside me, "But the Sikhs who were gunned down in Wisconsin are all in hell right now. Forever." As long as that whisper lies beneath, it informs all our attitudes and actions. Only the most heartless dare speak it, but its power still permeates. Ponder that with me: the power of unspoken fear.<br />
<br />
I haven't been sure, lately, what kind of Christianity I'm bringing my kids up in, or whether I can still call it Christianity at all. At times the question has kept me up at night. And while faith should not require sight, mine sometimes does. So, I'm grateful - grateful that Steve <b><i>showed</i></b> us Wednesday night. <b><i> </i></b><br />
<br />
Showed <i><b>me</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Showed everyone.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Christianity.</i></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-25398106614114147222012-08-03T08:18:00.002-04:002012-08-03T08:24:55.570-04:00pondering Amos with Eugene PetersonI read the minor prophets when I'm pissed; they affirm my righteous anger and validate my longing for justice, while - at the same time - knocking me flat off my own personal high horse. <br />
<blockquote>
Introduction to Amos, from <u>The Message</u> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<br />
<i>More people are exploited and abused in the cause of religion than in
any other way. Sex, money, and power all take a back seat to religion
as a source of evil. Religion is the most dangerous energy source known
to humankind. The moment a person (or government or religion or
organization) is convinced that God is either ordering or sanctioning a
cause or project, anything goes. The history, worldwide, of
religion-fueled hate, killing, and oppression is staggering. The
biblical prophets are in the front line of those doing something about
it.</i><br />
<i>The biblical prophets continue to be the most powerful and effective
voices ever heard on this earth for keeping religion honest, humble, and
compassionate. Prophets sniff out injustice, especially injustice that
is dressed up in religious garb. They sniff it out a mile away. Prophets
see through hypocrisy, especially hypocrisy that assumes a religious
pose. Prophets are not impressed by position or power or authority. They
aren’t taken in by numbers, size, or appearances of success.</i><br />
<i>They pay little attention to what men and women say about God or do
for God. They listen to God and rigorously test all human language and
action against what they hear. Among these prophets, Amos towers as
defender of the downtrodden poor and accuser of the powerful rich who
use God’s name to legitimize their sin.</i><br />
<i>None of us can be trusted in this business. If we pray and worship
God and associate with others who likewise pray and worship God, we
absolutely must keep company with these biblical prophets. We are
required to submit all our words and acts to their passionate scrutiny
to prevent the perversion of our religion into something self-serving. A
spiritual life that doesn’t give a large place to the
prophet-articulated justice will end up making us worse instead of
better, separating us from God’s ways instead of drawing us into them.</i></blockquote>
<br />
excerpts from chapters 5 & 6: <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-9540">7-9</sup> Woe to you who turn justice to vinegar <br />
and stomp righteousness into the mud.<br />
You bully right-living people, <br />
taking bribes right and left and kicking the poor when they're down.<br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-9542">13</sup>Justice is a lost cause. Evil is epidemic. <br />
Decent people throw up their hands.<br />
Protest and rebuke are useless, <br />
a waste of breath. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-9543">14</sup>Seek good and not evil— <br />
and live!<br />
You talk about God, the God-of-the-Angel-Armies, <br />
being your best friend.<br />
Well, live like it, <br />
and maybe it will happen. <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-9547">21-24</sup>"I can't stand your religious meetings. <br />
I'm fed up with your conferences and conventions.<br />
I want nothing to do with your religion projects, <br />
your pretentious slogans and goals.<br />
I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes, <br />
your public relations and image making.<br />
I've had all I can take of your noisy ego-music. <br />
When was the last time you sang to me?<br />
<b>Do you know what I want? <br /> I want justice—oceans of it.<br />I want fairness—rivers of it. <br /> That's what I want. That's all I want. </b><br />
Woe to you who think you live on easy street in ____, <br />
You assume you're at the top of the heap, <br />
voted the number-one best place to live.<br />
Well, wake up and look around. Get off your pedestal.<br />
The God-of-the-Angel-Armies speaks: "I hate the arrogance of _______."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-34615737129345520762012-07-16T00:08:00.000-04:002012-07-16T00:08:42.253-04:00pondering wild goose: a storm, and justin lee rescues the gospelI found Aaron and Sarah just as the wind was really picking up. We made our way to the campsite and got dinner made before the rain rolled in. Then we relaxed in the tent together, just listening to it fall ... I could have taken a seriously sweet nap, but the kids got bored. Finally, I decided, "This is dumb - who cares if we get wet?" So off we went - we found our friends wandering around in the rain, too, so we all enjoyed the relief from the heat. <a href="http://gcnjustin.tumblr.com/about">Justin Lee</a> was set to speak at 8:00, and by then the storm had passed over, so I left the kids playing badminton and throwing frisbees as I made my way to his session.<br />
<br />
I hadn't met Justin in person, but it felt like I'd known him for months. It was over a year ago when I first came across his <a href="http://gaychristian.net/">Gay Christian Network</a> and ordered a copy of <a href="http://www.throughmyeyesdvd.com/">Through My Eyes</a> (which I highly recommend - if you can't order one of your own, borrow mine!) Justin and his ministry are right here in NC, so I'd hoped to meet him someday and was especially excited to see that I'd get the chance at Wild Goose.<br />
<br />
I'd actually chatted with Justin earlier in the weekend, when I recognized him near the coffee barn. He'd directed me to the Jericho Books table, where he said I could help myself to an advance copy of his new book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Torn-Rescuing-Gospel-Gays-vs-Christians-Debate/dp/1455514314/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0">Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gay vs. Christian Debate</a>. I'd practically skipped over, excited to get my hands on what I was otherwise going to be waiting months for. I knew from the tone of his blog that his book would be one I'd both learn from and enjoy, and hoped to share with others. By the time his session began Friday night, I'd already started reading it. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
First though, my raw notes from that evening:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiLdxLDNjFPUiaeCSS8xCdpkofTUZ4_4TJnCvyVdBhwpusu_1RH4k3SIbu6PCrJxAGmUTsa6yZXrtGvVUSF3vfGT2aPcgDZYkiRFaM-DysuvNRutKEz-Yo6GLU5jEpHjCr9nDyKf8vtk/s1600/justinlee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiLdxLDNjFPUiaeCSS8xCdpkofTUZ4_4TJnCvyVdBhwpusu_1RH4k3SIbu6PCrJxAGmUTsa6yZXrtGvVUSF3vfGT2aPcgDZYkiRFaM-DysuvNRutKEz-Yo6GLU5jEpHjCr9nDyKf8vtk/s320/justinlee.jpg" width="320" /></a>Barna group survey (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unchristian-Generation-Really-Christianity-Matters/dp/1596445777"><u>Unchristian</u></a>) #1 term to describe Christians is “anti-gay” </blockquote>
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- 91% of unchurched, 80% of young Christians </blockquote>
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young people leaving church in droves - don’t want to be
known for that <br />
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Matthew23 (Jesus: woe to you)</blockquote>
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educate yourself: know LGBT people, learn language, educate others </blockquote>
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if we don’t talk about it we let people who are talking
about it run the conversation </blockquote>
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Tony Campolo - love the sinner, hate your own sin </blockquote>
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**our stories are so much more powerful than our arguments**</div>
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(extended question/answer) </blockquote>
<br />
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Justin spoke with the same tone he's known for in his writing (<a href="http://gcnjustin.tumblr.com/post/22710725963/a-challenge-to-both-sides-of-the-amendment-one-debate">this particular blog post went viral during the NC Amendment One battle this past spring</a>). Not at all militant, but not
apologetic either – a true peacemaker, which is a hard balance to strike. Only a person who is both gay and
a Christian could pull it off. Not that he is <i>pulling anything off</i> - he's being who he is, <b>exactly </b>who he is. In that way, he makes me think of Esther,"for such a time as this": not a beauty queen (wink), but gifted,
bright, articulate, likeable, Christian, brave, and (yes) gay. It's no surprise to learn that this "calling" is often a burden, however. In <a href="http://gcnjustin.tumblr.com/post/22777381795/30-confessions">one of his more vulnerable posts</a>, Justin wrote, "I hate being the 'gay Christian' guy. It’s exhausting."<br />
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I didn't leave Justin's session surprised - he was exactly what I'd expected, and that was a good thing. I can say the exact same about his book (which I've finished, by the way). I do see it as a potential game-changer because it's both/and. Yes, it's his story, and that in and of itself is powerful. But, because Justin is who he is, Christian faith and the Bible are woven completely <i>throughout</i> that story. He spends most of the book not convinced, himself, of how to reconcile his sexuality with scripture, so when he finally does gain clarity on that, his explanation doesn't feel as though he is trying to win you over to his interpretation. <br />
<br />
I don't want to spoil the book by sharing too much, but I will lift a few quotes to whet your appetites, here.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-oCWJBAutj6BoZtyMT8zPsSAUapPr_a9CMhe3ACpSyNlyPIeTa_OqxewJruM_aIvfsx0S5lQ34iDY8yGOo_xIKhyphenhyphenIWMWpnVrR4I8aNmyz6wg-jdmkADMhL779lwvSWtKkeVeUtu7X2k/s1600/justinbooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-oCWJBAutj6BoZtyMT8zPsSAUapPr_a9CMhe3ACpSyNlyPIeTa_OqxewJruM_aIvfsx0S5lQ34iDY8yGOo_xIKhyphenhyphenIWMWpnVrR4I8aNmyz6wg-jdmkADMhL779lwvSWtKkeVeUtu7X2k/s320/justinbooks.jpg" width="320" /></a>"We might just be raising the most anti-Christian generation America has ever seen, a generation that believes they have to choose between being loving and being Christian."<br />
<br />
"What kind of ministry takes a person who thinks he has a wonderful relationship with his father and convinces him that he actually has a bad one? This was feeling less and less like the work of God to me....As it was, I was losing my faith. Not in God, but in ex-gays."<br />
<br />
"As the yeast of misinformation has spread throughout the church, it has turned the church not only into the perceived enemy of gays, but into its own worst enemy as well... Better education is the anecdote. One of the most powerful ways of educating people is by sharing our stories."<br />
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<br /></div>
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When people like Justin tell us their stories, they make us <u><b>all</b></u> better. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The question is, <b><i> </i></b></div>
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<b><i>are we listening</i></b>?</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-49581192278695255972012-07-11T19:35:00.001-04:002012-07-11T21:57:00.526-04:00pondering wild goose: interfaith relationships<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>*if you're following my Wild Goose series, as of this post I'm only to 4:00 Friday afternoon (the festival lasted till late Sunday night) and I have <b>27 pages</b> of pencil-scribbled notes left. </i></div>
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<i>the point is, stay tuned - I'm nowhere near done. </i></div>
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Tim Challies said, "He hates God. Period." Let Us Reason Ministires said, "He has no qualms about using fabrication, exaggeration,
disinformation, misrepresentation, vilification, prevarication and even
falsification to achieve a complete brainwash in his followers". Way of Life Literature said, "</span><span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">A
good test is to ask Christian leaders what they think of this man...if they refuse to come right out and mark him as a dangerous heretic, they are
heretics themselves." And Apprising Ministiries has a post on their site titled (literally): "BRIAN MCLAREN: SPEAKING FOR SATAN" (capitalization emphasis <b><i>not</i></b> mine). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I don't remember when I first heard of Brian, or from whom. But I <b><i>do</i></b> remember reading <u>A New Kind of Christian</u> covertly, tucked inside a Beth Moore book jacket, after tiring of others' "concern". I liked that book very much, but I didn't become a 'Brian McLaren junky' by any stretch - the hype surrounding him (both positive and negative) turned me off. I'm not a band-wagoner. Now, though, at least in <i><b>my</b></i> "circles", the hype is fading - and so, suddenly I find him interesting again. Which obviously says a lot more about me than it does about him. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQat0mTDUkJ_ClYW5F-qJodMECMO28i1VBqY1jIAaPPZWMYRSJWv9vjcykWEMK9HQS0HagsB2lp5lm580q7RBrbIvc8HWrH1EmNyh9rb02ZJwfXv7AYfuvYVWYDxJa2UT3r-NAXoSER_c/s1600/brianmclaren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQat0mTDUkJ_ClYW5F-qJodMECMO28i1VBqY1jIAaPPZWMYRSJWv9vjcykWEMK9HQS0HagsB2lp5lm580q7RBrbIvc8HWrH1EmNyh9rb02ZJwfXv7AYfuvYVWYDxJa2UT3r-NAXoSER_c/s320/brianmclaren.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> I've already shared about how much I enjoyed Brian leading us daily in <a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/06/pondering-wild-goose-morning-prayer.html">morning prayer</a>. On Friday afternoon I made my way to the Exodus tent after enjoying <a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/07/pondering-wild-goslings-open-mic-at.html">Open Mic with the kids</a>. Not only was Brian set to lead a discussion on Interfaith Relationships that I very much wanted to be a part of, but more importantly, <a href="http://knightopia.com/blog/">Steve Knight</a> had arranged for us to publicly wish our friend Bill a happy birthday. If you know Bill, you also know there was no better time or place to sing him "happy birthday" than under a tent at the Wild Goose Festival, just before a Brian McLaren talk. But I'll write more about Bill and my other dear, goose-y friends later. For now, interfaith relationships.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Raw notes:</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">what keeps us apart isn't religious differences but similarities - all share a need for "other" to establish our identity</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">we do 2 things well: a strong religious identity that is hostile to others OR a weak religious identity that is tolerant of others (doesn't matter which identity) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">check out book <u>Who Speaks for Islam</u> (what a billion muslims really think)author thanked him for courage to speak up for peace and for the flack he's taken as a result, said to him, "you are a true Christian"</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">our greatest enemy is not the other, its one of our own upset at us because we are not hostile enough</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">why millions migrate out of religion into "spirituality" because looking for group where don't have to hate anybody</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">third alternative - Christian identity both strong AND benevolent to the other</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">is that truly in sync or would it be a betrayal of our faith?</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">why hasn't this manifested?</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">1. historical challenge</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;">reality: Jesus never killed anybody. said no when disciples wanted to, told them "you do not know what spirit you are of". Peter pulled out sword, Jesus said put it away. got in trouble for including "them". voice from heaven said "listen to HIM". </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">what happened? history hijacked.</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">conversion of Constantine - cross with spear in sky, "conquer"</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">*consequences*</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Americas (north & south) - religious genocide</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">all Muslims and Jews and Native American peoples know our violent history, we need honest reflection</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">2. doctrinal challenge</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">we become polite and suppress our beliefs and end up saying nothing. only emphasize similarities. weak. instead could we rediscover our doctrines in way that promotes benevolence? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Diane Butler Bass - doctrine from same word as doctor, healing teacher</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">3. liturgical challenge</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">when we exclude others from the table (closed communion) it's us vs. them</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">hymns often use language of "foe"</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">4. missional challenge</span><br />
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">facing problems no one else will face</span></blockquote>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I'll be honest - I got lax in my note taking once a storm rolled in, because I was worried about Aaron and Sarah. At the first crack of thunder/bolt of lightening/gust of wind, my attention was diverted to wondering where exactly they were. At the second, I excused myself in order to find out the answer to that question. So I missed most of point 3 due to lack of attention, and point 4 to an early exit.</span></div>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Still, I wanted to write about this issue of interfaith relationships; it's not only a central theme of the Wild Goose movement, it's also one I continue to be brought back to in my own life. It's not an easy conversation to have, though. Doctrinally, theologically - things get downright messy and uncomfortable. Or maybe it just seems that way because we've been conditioned to expect things to be so damned neat and clean. What if they just <b><i>aren't</i></b>, and were never meant to be?</span></div>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I don't know. </span></div>
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<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">What I do know is that I will continue to ponder this. I'll continue to explore books like Miroslav Volf's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Allah-A-Christian-Response-ebook/dp/B004HD61DG/ref=tmm_kin_title_0"><u>Allah: A Christian Response</u></a>, and Richard Beck's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Authenticity-Faith-Varieties-Experience/dp/0891123504/ref=la_B001KC9OWW_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1342044346&sr=1-2"><u>The Authenticity of Faith</u></a> (where he explores, among other things, the work of </span><span style="font-size: small;">Ernst Becker who noted "...the great tragedy of human existence [is that
the]...very things that give our lives meaning--our worldviews--are the
very sources of human evil"). I'll read McLaren's</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="btAsinTitle"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Moses-Buddha-Mohammed-ebook/dp/B007BGQ9OW"><u><span id="btAsinTitle">Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road?: Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World </span></u><span id="btAsinTitle"></span></a> when it comes out in September. I'll continue to have conversations with my atheist friends and my new Buddhist friend and my "secular Jewish" friends and any others willing to engage. I have much to learn from them, and who knows - maybe they have some things to learn from me, as well?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Most of all, I won't be scared off when critics critique and worriers forewarn. I can't. It's like <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/01/pondering-plan-and-purpose.html">my finger is on a thread they can't see</a>. I have to find out where it leads. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In closing, I'll share a comment I wrote late last night in response to this question from a self-identifying atheist I got to know when we stood as allies <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/03/pondering-peaceful-counter-presence.html">against Amendment One</a>: </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="font-size: small;">For my theist buddies out there: Isn't your religion tied to your
geological location/cultural influences? Each religion with their own
God(s), each adamantly devout that what they believe is the one true
religion of the world?"</span></blockquote>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="font-size: small;">A younger me would have had pat answers for this... and who knows what the older me will have to say about it. But last night, in the moment, I said this: </span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text" style="font-size: small;">I read Ghandi's autobiography
and closed it, then thought to myself, "Wow - this man was raised Hindu
because of where he lived. If I'd lived when/where he did, I'm sure I'd
have been a wonderful Hindu. And he remained a faithful Hindu, though he went
beyond that ... he spoke of "God's grace", same language I use as a
Christian. I'm convinced the same Spirit that leads me, led him - to a
life of nonviolence, justice, love, patience, and all the
beautiful things that I seek as well. And so I thought to myself, maybe
this is what Mother Teresa meant when she said, "“We never try to
convert those who receive [aid from Missionaries of Charity] to
Christianity but in our work we bear witness to the love of God’s
presence and if Catholics, Protestants, Buddhists, or agnostics become
for this better men — simply better — we will be satisfied." Of course
she is criticized for making such a statement and I am criticized for
quoting her on it, just as Ghandi was criticized ... and Jesus, for that
matter ... all criticized by those easily threatened. I don't know all
the theological ramifications of what I'm saying, I just know that I'm
more convinced than ever of a simple truth: "God is Love".</span> </blockquote>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I won't lie - it feels uncomfortable, leaving those words just hanging out there like that. Incomplete, imperfect, open to a variety of interpretations and misinterpretations. But I'll let them hang ...because, I'm thinking, that's what it means to<a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/2011/08/pondering-writing.html"> really write</a>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Finally, on a lighter note - and because some of you are dying to know - Brian does NOT have horns or a tail, and I never once saw him with a pitchfork, but we <b><i>were</i></b> on a farm so one never knows. In all seriousness, I found him to be disarmingly unassuming, surprisingly musical, unsurprisingly smart, </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">consistently considerate, </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">handsome (I have a thing for <a href="http://chewingonit.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-husband.html">bald guys with nice heads</a>) and (sorry, Brian) not especially funny. I enjoyed him very much, and I look forward to sharing, later, what I learned from the time he spent with us in the youth tent Saturday afternoon.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>*next up: a storm, and Justin Lee rescues the gospel :)</i></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-5979019683871028192012-07-10T11:58:00.000-04:002015-07-08T09:25:56.468-04:00pondering wild goslings: open mic at the youth tentAs Ian Cron was wrapping up his talk on<a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/07/pondering-wild-goose-ian-cron-and-post.html"> Post-cynical Christianity</a>, a volunteer took the mic to inform us that radar indicated a storm system was rolling in. By this point it was nearly 100 degrees and miserably muggy, so the threat of rain was more than welcome. But we'd left the rain fly off our tent for better circulation, so I ran off to take care of that while my friend Meredith made her way to the youth tent; our girls were participating in the Open Mic session, set to begin there any minute. I got the fly on and secured our things as quickly I could, desperate not to miss their big debut.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrP5kD28uENSvy_VVWngzTF1N5iP_w1lJKkpJUEx1E4taMC8mRY1qty_idKdlSFfsHyT8FRU8idWdp6aNNRolccWaAIb230LOmXDVT4BU0BbWwhI6Bn8JgprWqYiErC8F5a9nJp5WacQ/s1600/wildgooseopenmicyouth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrP5kD28uENSvy_VVWngzTF1N5iP_w1lJKkpJUEx1E4taMC8mRY1qty_idKdlSFfsHyT8FRU8idWdp6aNNRolccWaAIb230LOmXDVT4BU0BbWwhI6Bn8JgprWqYiErC8F5a9nJp5WacQ/s320/wildgooseopenmicyouth.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah as back-up dancer</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I made it just in time!<br />
<br />
I honestly can't even remember what they sang (I think it was Firework?) but I <i>do</i> remember how happy it made me, to see <b><i>all</i></b> the kids bravely taking the stage to share their passions/talents. They were celebrating themselves and one another, and that made me smile.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfnIc9cZMkHiOCdwIteiZpmp8dlHRiNLlMRQHpwgKVPjJtZhrhYjQBnMjY1XkZTFaKJii-TSTds7YIeICf9-HKiuKkahFMjd70JQNUPlHU020Kr2r8HaW4ATsSnpSl4q7zpVFi0dknHI/s1600/wildgooseopenmicyouth2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfnIc9cZMkHiOCdwIteiZpmp8dlHRiNLlMRQHpwgKVPjJtZhrhYjQBnMjY1XkZTFaKJii-TSTds7YIeICf9-HKiuKkahFMjd70JQNUPlHU020Kr2r8HaW4ATsSnpSl4q7zpVFi0dknHI/s320/wildgooseopenmicyouth2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
We'd given up a lot this past year, in some ways, when we <a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/02/pondering-church-change.html">made the choice to move on from a church we'd enjoyed for almost a decade</a>. Opportunities like this were numerous there - and while they aren't the most important thing, they <i><b>are</b></i> something. The church where we worship now is rich in many other ways, but there have been times when (whether it makes sense or not), I've felt sad. So, seeing these kids cut loose and perform for one another in the youth tent was like a little gift wrapped in a bow. If nothing else (and I do believe there <i><b>will</b></i> be "<i>something else's</i>") but,<b> IF </b>nothing else, once a year we will gather with other wild geese and goslings .... they will spend as much concentrated time with like-minded friends and mentors across the span of 4 days as many a Sunday-morning or Wednesday-night, combined... and it will mean something. A great deal of somethings, I'd venture.<br />
<br />
If you'd told me my son Aaron would also grace the Open Mic stage, I'd have responded with a chuckle and a "Yeah, right." There was a time when he would ham it up with the best of them, but the past couple of years he's become a genuine "tween", cautiously navigating that thin line between childlike and mature, carefree and cool. As much as I'd love for him to remain inhibition-free, I know this is a necessary process - one I'll be happy to see him reach the other side of. So, when he told me he'd signed up for the next day's Open Mic I stifled my surprise and excitement (for his benefit). I simply smiled and asked, "Can I watch?" He pursed his lips and nodded.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYE1zQKj5GRZWp2JJTyeqqX5zMpnPAbthzormAI4xqsCKXGNmDp90fhHsixFx1bNqRWJCbpNbFKGlu8dFCZRGv9H5uzqALQE1gsvgH12TYI3Sh4eOrlrtjfJ__c5mxo0vUnA_iajkBWI/s1600/wildgooseyouthaaron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYE1zQKj5GRZWp2JJTyeqqX5zMpnPAbthzormAI4xqsCKXGNmDp90fhHsixFx1bNqRWJCbpNbFKGlu8dFCZRGv9H5uzqALQE1gsvgH12TYI3Sh4eOrlrtjfJ__c5mxo0vUnA_iajkBWI/s320/wildgooseyouthaaron.jpg" width="320" /></a>The sign up sheet read, "Aaron McConnell - Funny stories". I'm not sure there is an anxiety to be compared with waiting for your almost-12-year-old son to try being funny in front of a bunch of kids who are older than he is. I thought I might be sick (but it could have been the heat). I smiled a confident smile as he situated himself on the stool, adjusted the mic, and began. I held my breath ... told myself that these were good kids, no matter what it would be okay ... but he was a hit! He picked stories he'd practiced on us before, that have gone over well (as any comedian-in-training knows, many don't!) He got lots of smiles, a modest applause, and one of the older teenage girls asked him if he planned to go into stand-up. He just smiled that crooked, shy smile that I find especially winsome. And with that, my <b><i>no-longer-a-gosling-not-quite-a-gander</i></b> added a few <a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/06/pondering-parenting-credits-in.html">credits to his confidence account</a>. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Later, I'll share about the time Brian McLaren spent talking with us in the youth tent. I learned a lot. Aaron fell asleep. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-20439962103986399632012-07-02T10:28:00.001-04:002012-07-02T11:03:05.420-04:00pondering wild goose: Ian Cron and post-cynical christianityIt couldn't have been a coincidence that "Wonder for Cynics" at 1:00 was immediately followed by "Post Cyncial Christianity" at 2:00. I wonder how many of us walked straight from The Exodus tent to The Shadow tent Friday afternoon?<br />
<br />
I can hear some of you who know me, wondering: "What's with all the focus on cynicism, Michelle? You don't come across that way. Is there something you're not telling us?"<br />
<br />
Well... yeah, I guess so. It turns out the natural tendency (temptation?) for someone who makes a major shift of any kind, spiritually or politically (or any other "ly") is cynicism. I have fought it both within (my own soul needs no help with this) and without (many speak as if it's their mother tongue). I fight to maintain an attitude of hope, to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, to walk my own journey with inward peace ... but that fight has left me weary, at times. And as everyone knows, temptations are far more tempting when we're tired.<br />
<br />
So yes, I confess - I've been tired lately. Which meant anytime I saw the word "cynic" on the schedule, I was there... because I knew I needed to be. And I wasn't disappointed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSty0eBlOZgNsfKUMJHb4mN1AD9t5wLwPZ2KAFUOnrUxlE1p5VZCQjzyk8MSnxU2Zj0V_wg_e-ZECOi_r7sGyVVb6eibXMCrbeDd3My0eqiJTQMANSa0fQ84v6Lc01waqiL62bC8z0vw/s1600/Book-Cover-Jesus-My-Father-The-CIA-and-Me-196x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSty0eBlOZgNsfKUMJHb4mN1AD9t5wLwPZ2KAFUOnrUxlE1p5VZCQjzyk8MSnxU2Zj0V_wg_e-ZECOi_r7sGyVVb6eibXMCrbeDd3My0eqiJTQMANSa0fQ84v6Lc01waqiL62bC8z0vw/s1600/Book-Cover-Jesus-My-Father-The-CIA-and-Me-196x300.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
I had to run the kids to their tent, first, where I ran into my friend Meredith. She agreed a talk with "post-cynical" in the title sounded like something she wanted to be a part of, too, so she came along. But she knew something I didn't: the speaker, Ian Cron (whose name I didn't <i>think</i> I recognized) is an author. She was describing his book, when I suddenly realized, "Wait - I read that book, too! I <b><i>lov</i></b>e that book! Oh!...." ( wave of realization). <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Father-The-CIA-ebook/dp/B0052FT38I/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2"><u>Jesus, My Father, The CIA and Me: A Memoir... of Sorts</u></a> is a great read. In fact, I remember reading it thinking, "I'd like to write a book like this one day" - smart, compelling, inspiring. Check it out.<br />
<br />
Here are my raw notes from the talk. You can actually listen to Ian recap his Wild Goose experience, and this topic, <a href="http://www.iancron.com/2012/06/29/wild-goose-festival-ians-thoughts-on-post-cynical-christians/">here</a> (recommended!)<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
grief and rage following painful church experience (Episcopalian priest)<br />
<br />
moved family to Nashville to reboot - thought would be safe - found it to be most religiously cynical place EVER "people are f*ing <b><i>pissed</i></b> in Nashville"<br />
<br />
same old narrative: "church sucks, but we love Jesus" - cynicism contagious - running negative editorial in mind<br />
<br />
it's in vogue to be self-loathing Christians situated on the fringe of established church <br />
<br />
Andrew Byers quote "the edgy spirituality of the jaded"<br />
<br />
the event that seeded our cynicism really hurt like hell - whether one event or 1,000 little robberies<br />
<br />
"we" reject the fear based spirit of anti-intellectualism, "they" protect their certainty with rage & anger<br />
<br />
on receiving end of that when perceived as a threat - it hurts!<br />
<br />
there's nothing like religious wounding<br />
<br />
realized some things about himself over time:<br />
1. I wasn't enlightened, I'd just become a jerk.<br />
2. Cynicism masks laziness. I didn't want to "be the change", I just wanted to bitch about it.<br />
3. Cynicism is freaking delicious. <br />
<br />
decided he must CHANGE - couldn't stand himself anymore - wanted to live as a resurrection person<br />
<br />
answer: <b><i>realistic hopefulness</i></b><br />
<br />
open-hearted vs a defended heart (pusila anime, "closed soul")<br />
<br />
in curvitas se - turned in on oneself, ugly<br />
<br />
to live with undefended heart is to live like Jesus, with potential for more joy AND more pain than ever known<br />
<br />
Dan Allender: "You cannot hope if you cannot grieve" (work through grief)<br />
<br />
you have more to offer the world than your smirk!<br />
<br />
Brown quote: "owning our stories and loving ourselves in the process is the bravest thing we'll ever do"<br />
<br />
read The Reluctant Saint (on Francis)<br />
<br />
need compassionate clear-eyed open heartedness to prophetically critique the situation of the church<br />
<br />
don't criticize,<b><i> just do it better</i></b>! (Francis of Assisi)<br />
<br />
let my <b><i>LIFE</i></b> ... <b><i>BE</i></b>... a prophetic critique</blockquote>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTCjH3KDxy2z6UFp_zRiawLDRKyx18-4iKkHGr-amNTlZWt6HKXk2WC8p28qtuOerO1yN4TYXVU0KFbk8fvAYbRtFTi2nDZCUGeV_ulvTTTiBZT9EMPkJUJPSMC-f5DCReutATMIdHAU/s1600/edmund+turkish+delight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTCjH3KDxy2z6UFp_zRiawLDRKyx18-4iKkHGr-amNTlZWt6HKXk2WC8p28qtuOerO1yN4TYXVU0KFbk8fvAYbRtFTi2nDZCUGeV_ulvTTTiBZT9EMPkJUJPSMC-f5DCReutATMIdHAU/s320/edmund+turkish+delight.jpg" width="320" /></a>I don't feel the need to elaborate much, here. I am grateful Ian shared his story, and that he confessed to us as he did. I've not experienced anything like the pain he experienced from "church" - if anything, I've been a "victim" of "1,000 little robberies" over the course of my life-of-faith. But I <i>have</i> tasted the succulent sweetness of cynicism. Ian reminded me (comparison mine) that it can be like Edmund's<i> Turkish Delight</i> - one bite and all you want is more (especially when it leaves you feeling smart and superior). But it's ugly, and it makes <b><i>me</i></b> ugly. It makes <b><i>us</i></b> ugly. "Justified" or not, there's a better way.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We <i><b>do</b></i> have more to offer the world than our smirk. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ghandi <b><i>was</i></b> right, "<i>Be the change</i>!" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Francis of Assisi <b><i>was</i></b> right, "<i>Just do it better!</i>"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And Ian <b><i>is</i></b> right, "Let<i><b> my life</b></i>... <i><b>BE</b></i>... a prophetic critique". </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Amen.</b></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-39536886338581960482012-07-01T17:43:00.000-04:002012-07-01T17:43:30.030-04:00pondering wild goose: frank schaefferFrancis Schaeffer is a name I’m well familiar with - not only from my years
growing up as a member of Thomas Road Baptist Church and a graduate of both Lynchburg (now Liberty) Christian
Academy and Liberty University (Jerry Falwell's, for those that don't know). His influence was even more prominent at
the Calvinist, Reformed Baptist church my husband and I attended for several years as a young
married couple. Frank is his son, and he's become famous (or infamous) in
his own right: to conservatives, he's considered a
traitor - to progressives, a bit of a hero. But it turns out, he's just a man - a husband, father, and grandather who writes for the
Huffington Post from time to time and has several books out (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Patience-God-People-Religion-Atheism/dp/030681854X">Patience
with God</a> was especially good). He is one of many post-evangelical,
post-religious-right, next-generation voices that I find (whether I agree with them or not) that I can relate to, given our
shared background. Jay Bakker is another. Frank's tone hasn't always been what
I’d call kind, but I must admit there's a certain appeal to someone who shoots
straight and doesn't leave you wondering what he really thinks.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8wR_XAovfD1mFbMOtZsXyifO-ghZeu5aSlAJ-NXP_eC5-50TemlvQK5i82Bih9YsaYpHuiwy_o2sIqJ-joVFHXhboumwYZokevSLPSBIDLfo9aLFalSQACP-5YBv7U2If3kFrKtibZI/s1600/2012-06-22_13-23-57_140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8wR_XAovfD1mFbMOtZsXyifO-ghZeu5aSlAJ-NXP_eC5-50TemlvQK5i82Bih9YsaYpHuiwy_o2sIqJ-joVFHXhboumwYZokevSLPSBIDLfo9aLFalSQACP-5YBv7U2If3kFrKtibZI/s320/2012-06-22_13-23-57_140.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank Schaeffer, Wonder for Cynics</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I’d only highlighted a few sessions in my copy of the Wild Goose schedule,
ones I intended to make <b><i>certain</i></b> not to miss: Friday afternoon's "Wonder For Cynics with Frank Schaeffer" at 1:00 was one of them. The
kids and I shared lunch at the campsite, then hurried back to catch his talk. The youth/kids activities didn't pick up again until 2, so I tried to play it off positive: "You can rest
in the shade with your hand-held fans while I listen". They were less
than enthused. Still, Frank's dynamic style held their interest, and his occasional use of four-letter-words kept
their ears perked. He even made them laugh out loud a few times!<br />
<br />
As we arrived , Frank was passionately recommending the movie <a href="http://www.hellboundthemovie.com/">Hellbound</a>, which many had seen in
a premiere screening the night before; unfortunately, I missed it (by the time
it started at 11, we were sound asleep). It comes out officially this
fall, and Frank seems to think it will be a “game changer”. I’d like to hope it
will help open honest conversation on the matter, but I admit I’m pretty jaded. <u>Love Wins</u> by Rob Bell had great
potential for opening up conversation, too. That’s not exactly what happened, though - most folks responded by
retreating further into their prospective corners. Maybe he’s right, though ... maybe this time it
will be different.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/38291653?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ff9933" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
For those who watched that preview and are still willing to read further :) I’ll share the raw version of my notes from Frank’s talk before elaborating further. He reviewed his background, then explained that he now worships at an Orthodox Church with his family, including grandaughter Lucy. Much of his talk had to do with her - so much so that, after praising President Obama for a bit, he joked, "Now, you may ask, what - is he God? No, of course not! He's not even Lucy!"<br />
<br />
Notes:<br />
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br />
exile, experience of leaving – get to other side –
but what’s next?<br />
<br />
what comes after cynicism?<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
true understanding of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>GRACE</u></i></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u></u></i></b><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u></u></i></b></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
talking to his granddaughter = talking to Jesus<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
“words that now have greatest spiritual impact on
my life are words of love from family”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
recalls weight of doubt - Christopher Hitchens
asked, “But why aren’t you an atheist?”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
book <u>Patience with God</u><br />
<u></u><br /><u></u></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
child looking on you with love is the face of God:
sees you as you wish you were, doesn’t know your history (or care to know)<br />
<br />
unconditional love<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
intersection between faith and doubt for burnt out
cynics is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>LOVE</u></i></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u></u></i></b><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u></u></i></b></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
for him now, comfort doesn’t come from a book, comes from love
every day right in front of me<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
seems oversimplified<br />
<br />
what’s left? pass on
compassion <br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
granddaughter Lucy “Are you upset with me?” “No, there’s nothing
I love more in the world than you”<br />
<br />
kind word to stranger could literally save their life<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
science tells us energy came before matter – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> energy is LOVE – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">energy
is GOD</i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i><br /><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
Lucy healed him to where he’ll now give a clear cut
answer after years of mistrust – she asked “who made the rock?” and without
blinking he said “God did”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
“someday I want her to come to a kind of faith like
this" – "let’s fight for the witness of the gospel”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: .5in;">
when in season of doubt, ideas will not save you, you’ll never figure it out
– love someone unconditionally, let them love you unconditionally, show compassion for all, treat someone with
decency and you will feel decent<br />
<br /></div>
As I copy the above words from pencil-scribble-in-a-notebook to official-looking-type,
I feel a familiar sensation. Anxiety whispers, “this is heresy”. But
here’s the thing about Frank – he’s not afraid of heresy anymore, he's too invested in what has real value. He has nothing left to lose, and nothing more to prove - not to himself or anyone else.
He doesn’t feel the need to make the words sound “correct” or
“safe”. <br />
<br />
Now, me - I could rewrite every
phrase above in “Christianese”, then support each one with proof texts. They’d say pretty much the same things, but
sound more acceptable - less risky. But I’m not going
to do that, and I’m glad Frank doesn’t. Because someone else refused to play that game. He spoke so plainly, with words so true but so shockingly human that the religious leaders
literally tore their clothes in response. We don’t talk about faith that way anymore, most of us.<br />
<br /><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Is Frank Jesus? Not hardly. But I liked the earthiness with which he
spoke. Thirty years away from
evangelicalism have clearly freed him from the need to filter every word phrase
through a mental doctrine-detector before uttering them. This realization, on my part, was probably the biggest take-away from
his session: I gained a fresh appreciation for courageous clarity, along with a determination to develop more of the same in my own words,
whether spoken or captured in print.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zpYLd5ERWg1TRaNOI0OZTt94B-CatqjkhOCc5OE4pEbSz16Q-3i0VAzydYvkQfbtGvio7_IwbUJ7bNCcX_E5bjwJxCRphXnZbbrO6qJ-0elAdql4trRwF5WebC9cp_QRxEG1QDiCZak/s1600/376407_3853950919310_699202845_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zpYLd5ERWg1TRaNOI0OZTt94B-CatqjkhOCc5OE4pEbSz16Q-3i0VAzydYvkQfbtGvio7_IwbUJ7bNCcX_E5bjwJxCRphXnZbbrO6qJ-0elAdql4trRwF5WebC9cp_QRxEG1QDiCZak/s400/376407_3853950919310_699202845_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank in the dunk tank</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Frank also said that last year’s Wild Goose sent him home a kinder, gentler man. This made me smile. I’d never met the young right wing evangelical
poster-boy Frank, or the cynical reactionary Frank who came later. But I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> met the “kinder, gentler”
Frank. We walked together for a bit, sharing a private conversation which I enjoyed
immensely. Tiny things, from his concern that I not be run off the road by a passing golf cart, to his genuine interest in each of my children, to his intense attention for the details of my own story, impressed upon me the beauty of a life lived (as <a href="http://experimentaltheology.blogspot.com/2011/08/slavery-of-death-part-7-in-this-world.html">Richard Beck</a> describes) <i>ex curvitas se, </i>outward toward others. And that's sweet fruit, if you ask me.<br />
<br />
I left touched by the (yes)
<i><b>miraculous</b></i>, <i>healing</i> power of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">experiencing
the gospel of grace</i> - <b>minus </b>its false baggage – amongst <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a <b>community</b>
of bravely honest people</i>. It's changing Frank. It’s changing many of us Wild Geese. And that is why we cannot shrink back when
others warn “heresy!” What's at stake is worth the risk. There exists a pearl of great price… a Kingdom not built with human hands, where Justice and Peace kiss and Love does indeed win. We’ve caught a
glimpse of it, and we’ll not be the same. <br />
<br />
The Spirit of Wonder still woos the most jaded of cynics.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-4525094817956044072012-06-28T10:46:00.000-04:002012-06-28T10:46:53.430-04:00pondering wild goose: sustainable communitiesThe Wild Goose <a href="http://www.wildgoosefestival.org/festival-info/schedule/friday">schedule</a> works like this - every hour there are up to 8 things going on at one time, at various venues throughout the property. Inevitably, there are time slots where nothing grabs you and others where you desperately want to be in two places at once.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsPC7hA-a92AowmzXgjqi28WwhFoAtfLeF22BmJSSFr5eQDWIehO6mh-GgsRpOs5bvBwDEzm30gFAPWWGv-WxfqO6QVUQaHbzUvpf9wsoidPO0TbSGyWSIS9XNr3rfvLZAYlXDY4fAsI/s1600/2012-06-22_11-49-51_799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsPC7hA-a92AowmzXgjqi28WwhFoAtfLeF22BmJSSFr5eQDWIehO6mh-GgsRpOs5bvBwDEzm30gFAPWWGv-WxfqO6QVUQaHbzUvpf9wsoidPO0TbSGyWSIS9XNr3rfvLZAYlXDY4fAsI/s320/2012-06-22_11-49-51_799.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Goose kids' tent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Friday, following <a href="http://www.chewingonit.blogspot.com/2012/06/pondering-wild-goose-morning-prayer.html">morning prayer</a>, I dropped Aaron & Sarah off at the kids' tent (which, by the way, was awesome!) then had a long conversation with a young woman who works with people who have autism. Her point of view gave me hope that faith communities are beginning to "get" the absolute necessity of embracing neurodiversity. Our talk meant that I walked into the session on Sustainable Communities a bit late.<br />
<br />
I was stand-off-ish about this session. I live in a big house in the suburbs; I'm not Shane Claibourne by any stretch of the imagination. But Tom Sine and Matt Pritchard weren't asking us to leave their tent and "sell all we have to the poor" (not immediately, anyway). They took turns describing various intentional communities in existence right now across the country, which I found interesting.<br />
<br />
My scattered notes:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
look up "peace church theology" (Mennonites)<br />
<br />
the future is changing - re-imagine an economy more festive & celebrated that costs less<br />
<br />
school loans & house in suburbs grossly high percentage income, keep us from doing good we long to do in world<br />
<br />
book <u>The New Conspirators </u><br />
<br />
nothing in scripture says work 40 hours a week</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<u> </u><br />
cohousing.org invented in Denmark 50 years ago - look up<br />
<br />
cross race, class, culture, intergenerational<br />
<br />
mustard seed village - look up<br />
<br />
you can live together without living off each other<br />
<br />
if you can't sell your house open it up to community, transitional people/families, etc<br />
<br />
series on NPR family matters - look up</blockquote>
<br />
So... what? Here's where I've come to, so far, as I reflect on what I learned.<br />
<br />
I do want to look up the various terms and books listed above. I feel ill informed on this topic and it overwhelms me, somewhat, like I'm in a class I missed the prerequisites for ... but I am genuinely interested. As a family of 6, it's not realistic for us to consider any major changes, but I do want us to be open to inviting others into our home. I believe that will happen more over the years, but frankly, right now, the one we <b><i>have</i></b> welcomed is still adjusting in many ways, so I feel no pressure to make any sudden changes, that way. The one point I do want to take action on is figuring out the garden thing - either planting fruit bushes in our own yard, or joining in a community garden at a separate, nearby site. This is something I know nothing about, but I have green-thumbed friends. It's time to learn.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdBzJ-BErHg41WwilQT8J3N_WIbdDEgMhJ26G0jWegg9V18jMkUmJFrTssk08takOTRt2XVaUPg4RRrPaUUmtt4-wX2pzMsKo41Ysq3HkKKu7PGaJDtVbmpJM_hpNg23Uw5snYsLm2lI/s1600/2012-06-22_11-54-01_181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdBzJ-BErHg41WwilQT8J3N_WIbdDEgMhJ26G0jWegg9V18jMkUmJFrTssk08takOTRt2XVaUPg4RRrPaUUmtt4-wX2pzMsKo41Ysq3HkKKu7PGaJDtVbmpJM_hpNg23Uw5snYsLm2lI/s400/2012-06-22_11-54-01_181.jpg" width="351" /></a>What I really took away from this session has more to do with how we advise the kids, as <b><i>they</i></b> are growing up and planning their futures. Right now they are 13, 11, 10, and 8 - middle school is here, high school right around the corner. What will their goals look like? Are school loans worth it? Is college the only option, or even the best option, for all kids? Will they follow their passions or accept a job that "pays well"? Must the two be mutually exclusive? As they enter adulthood, how can they make conscious choices that ensure they remain <b><i>free</i></b> - free to live lives that both make them happy, and do the most good in this world?<br />
<br />
I came away with a fresh sense that kids approaching college and adulthood have options, many of them radically counter-cultural. Some look at the future with doom and gloom because the unsustainable bubble of Western prosperity is bursting, but we need not view things that way. I am hopeful that the next generation can avoid the trappings and mistakes ours has made - that they can be<i><b> much, much</b></i> happier with<b><i> less</i></b>. If so, they will be better for it, and so will the world.<br />
<br />
I can't say what the future looks like for my kids and their families, but I'm excited for them.... <b><i>I really am</i></b>.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-49053998406236365742012-06-27T10:49:00.004-04:002013-08-13T22:21:03.296-04:00pondering the wild goose: morning prayer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8WGn9wo3X6lzu0cPDMF0fwxLcq8H0EowUsOxDxXbJVvXU_tfm-uCgZHMwE9vc5vsFvTyuFVWXu_NkIJuHKy1LoYIez_O6AUc1T3zgJV8nx6l4BpWDg7Vb9z7I-KbdSYExx_8a-rt0cE/s1600/2012-06-22_07-42-10_465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8WGn9wo3X6lzu0cPDMF0fwxLcq8H0EowUsOxDxXbJVvXU_tfm-uCgZHMwE9vc5vsFvTyuFVWXu_NkIJuHKy1LoYIez_O6AUc1T3zgJV8nx6l4BpWDg7Vb9z7I-KbdSYExx_8a-rt0cE/s320/2012-06-22_07-42-10_465.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKE826qht8rqJIHdOj68nZgLHi6_Euwd8vYqlP_2LYIlvPwww4yS-hoU1zt0qBEgxzcbDrnKfIr4SuHgCzFeFOB_7r5HzoegtEIldSWPmTfPI_7EKQj0eYnZl6RkW1JMnzZz8cy9OQS1I/s1600/2012-06-22_08-11-30_71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Mornings at the Wild Goose Festival were wonderful. As I'd open my eyes to the sun peeking through the trees, one or both of the children would be staring at me, silently - watching me sleep. Which I found touching, considering how many times I've done the same with them. One of the beauties of camping.<br />
<br />
One morning little Molly came over to visit during breakfast. Another, I chatted with tent-neighbors Margie and Allana, young 20-somethings who had driven down from New Jersey. And another, I was invited over to chat with tent-neighbors Jack and Carol, a delightful couple of my parents' generation who had come up from Georgia. But I always excused myself in time to make it to morning prayer.<br />
<br />
At 9 am Brian McLaren greeted those of us who staggered in, coffee in hand, not quite recovered from too-late talking or singing or dancing the night before. Each day it was the same; he began by having us sing this song, which we'd start in a low key, then inch it up and up until we were singing it high and loud. It really was beautiful.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/leaO91lUy20" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Then someone else would lead us in this prayer, in a read/response fashion:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Almighty God, to You all hearts are open, all desires known, and from
You no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the
inspiration of Your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love You, and
worthily magnify Your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.</i></blockquote>
<br />
Someone would then read to us about a martyr - I specifically remember Martin Bishop of Tours and Hildegard. Inspiring stories of service and sacrifice.<br />
<br />
Then Brian led us in singing the Lord's Prayer a new way. First, though, we were invited to be fully present. Remove your shoes. Feel the grass. Hear the birds. Pray with your eyes OPEN. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Then Pam Wilhelms led us in portions of the prayer from St. Patrick - each morning we added a bit more.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I arise today </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the belief in the threeness, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through confession of the oneness </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Of the Creator of Creation. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I arise today </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the strength of Christ's birth with his baptism, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I arise today </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through the strength of the love of Cherubim, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In obedience of angels, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In the service of archangels, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In hope of resurrection to meet with reward, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In prayers of patriarchs, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In predictions of prophets,</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In preaching of apostles, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In faith of confessors, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In innocence of holy virgins, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In deeds of righteous men.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ on my right, Christ on my left, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ in every eye that sees me, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Christ in every ear that hears me. </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I arise today </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through belief in the threeness, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Through confession of the oneness, </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Of the Creator of Creation.</span></i></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4n6qI7FHaXFkDvKzNOYrmfha8wUFoCPdPrw76XYSRXhnOpdA00Zjb4bc5QOrSko28gfcrFwGTbbk1TtkKdGT6SOqPfJ8TT9vMyvxTSXKcNR7tFOBCbz9HYiHzjub1RaGUaSm2-1CObI/s1600/2012-06-22_09-47-22_729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4n6qI7FHaXFkDvKzNOYrmfha8wUFoCPdPrw76XYSRXhnOpdA00Zjb4bc5QOrSko28gfcrFwGTbbk1TtkKdGT6SOqPfJ8TT9vMyvxTSXKcNR7tFOBCbz9HYiHzjub1RaGUaSm2-1CObI/s320/2012-06-22_09-47-22_729.jpg" width="320" /></a>At this point, we were asked to form groups of 6 or so. We were given a passage of scripture and instructed that one person should read it aloud, then we sit in silence. Someone else should read it aloud, then we sit in silence. Finally, someone else read it aloud, then sit in silence.<br />
<br />
Then we were invited to discuss the passage. It was very good for me to hear others' perspectives, especially since Brian had not given us easy passages to discuss (one morning our reading was Psalm 137).<br />
<br />
What really stuck with me though, was that each morning I met new people. I remember the 3 fresh-faced college boys who came together, the couple who run a farm outside of Danville, VA, the young woman who is writing her dissertation for seminary on The Theology of Autism, the young man who I could tell just needed a hug so I asked if I could give him one and tears filled his eyes as he said "yes, please" (later, I saw him laughing as he danced it up during the parade), and the couple who met in AA, were recently married, and have started a ministry of their own in Tennessee. I remember them - and they remember me.<br />
<br />
Following group time, we were invited to stand and recite the prayer of Francis (which I can't say without hearing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgdNrppahI4">The Brilliance</a> in my head)<br />
<dl><dd><i>Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is hatred, let me sow love.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is injury, pardon.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is doubt, faith.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is despair, hope.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is darkness, light.</i></dd><dd><i>Where there is sadness, joy.</i></dd></dl>
<dl><dd><i>O Divine Master,</i></dd><dd><i>grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;</i></dd><dd><i>to be understood, as to understand;</i></dd><dd><i>to be loved, as to love.</i></dd><dd><i>For it is in giving that we receive.</i></dd><dd><i>It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,</i></dd><dd><i>and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.</i></dd></dl>
<dl><dd><i>Amen.</i></dd></dl>
<br />
And finally, in closing, we clasped hands and sang <a href="http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/chords-for-with-kindness.html">Brian's song</a>, from Teresa of Avila<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tC8lxryE7iY?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
I am grateful to Brian for sharing this time with us each day, and for inspiring me to use many of these tools here at home with our family and with other groups I may be given to lead. So simple, so worshipful, so inspiring...<br />
<br />
Morning prayer was like fresh wind blowing over the embers of my heart.<br />
<br />
(<i>next up, I reflect on my notes from the session on Sustainable Communities</i>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-19117938656257951542012-06-26T11:02:00.002-04:002012-06-26T11:02:43.428-04:00pondering the wild goose: thursday's reflectionsYesterday we returned from 4 days and nights at the <a href="http://www.wildgoosefestival.org/intro">Wild Goose Festival</a> at <a href="http://shakorihills.org/facility/">Shakori Hills</a> (right here in North Carolina). I chose not to bring the laptop along, opting instead to take vigorous notes (over 20 pages worth), which I look forward to sharing here in the form of multiple posts. Now home relaxing on the deck, the sounds and sights of our backyard woods call my mind and heart back to Shakori Hills.<br />
<br />
We arrived Thursday afternoon and set up camp in 95 degree heat and humidity. My middle two, Aaron (11) and Sarah (10) were real troopers, helping their Mama remember everything Daddy taught us during our practice run in the front yard. He couldn't come along, due to<a href="http://ericmcart.blogspot.com/2012/06/heroes-con-2012-wrap-up.html"> a big weekend event of his own back home</a>, so we asked grandparents and friends to help occupy the oldest (Luke) and youngest (Mary), for whom the festival would have been far more challenging. Once the tent was up and the car unloaded, I gave the two of them some money with instructions to find out whether the food vendors were open. Hot and exhausted, their choice of ice cream for dinner was <i><b>completely</b></i> fine by me! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjG-no9gIBCQuzdXJQBwAjqhXQs8FnS26hyBmqFPFAXtgBLlQ4W0bXdx9gvLjGKe_kcML43cdFvH9-yOeW64Dr-IAAMwc4csBDF8cBa4x5bePXuHZKbOKq7-GEKuj1_9gF8e6JZuJufo/s1600/wildgoosestage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjG-no9gIBCQuzdXJQBwAjqhXQs8FnS26hyBmqFPFAXtgBLlQ4W0bXdx9gvLjGKe_kcML43cdFvH9-yOeW64Dr-IAAMwc4csBDF8cBa4x5bePXuHZKbOKq7-GEKuj1_9gF8e6JZuJufo/s320/wildgoosestage.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
I missed the opening ceremony, and chose not to participate in the evening's scheduled talks. All I cared about that first night was chilling on a blanket and listening to music. I needed to get into the space, needed a buffer zone from the flurry of home.<br />
<br />
<br />
I was not disappointed. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSLwHOccIskpBAXOR_JmVGMzypntNuvlhEf7mgXkpKZeJ8PLUtZfQrsjuOTN83XCfdooRQaltzLan6jD7rCy-vQ6gvadNm3ntpyEGx6sG7nXNAdbigoPldCIRQt-WxQtoF4LjNquIglE/s1600/aradhna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSLwHOccIskpBAXOR_JmVGMzypntNuvlhEf7mgXkpKZeJ8PLUtZfQrsjuOTN83XCfdooRQaltzLan6jD7rCy-vQ6gvadNm3ntpyEGx6sG7nXNAdbigoPldCIRQt-WxQtoF4LjNquIglE/s320/aradhna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aradhna</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
That night the kids and I lounged under the stars as <a href="http://aradhnamusic.com/">Aradhna</a> taught us new songs and <a href="http://joshgarrels.com/">Josh Garrels</a> sang songs we knew by heart. Our friends sat nearby, stars shone above us, and the breeze finally blew cool comfort our way. I felt my breathing slow, my face relax, and my spirit awaken.<br />
<br />
I was ready - SO ready ... or so I thought at the time.<br />
<br />
But far more awaited me than I'd bargained for.<br />
<br />
<i>Stay tuned.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-37894427045203252142012-06-19T00:51:00.000-04:002012-06-19T10:45:17.659-04:00pondering memoriesI grow weary of people bemoaning technology. Longing for the old days. Here's the thing - everything is what you make of it. Everything.<br />
<br />
Photo albums can be wonderful, or photos can sit in a box and never be looked at. It's what you've made of them that matters. <br />
<br />
I wasn't much of a scrap-booker, myself, but my oldest were born in the BOOM of all things scrapbook, so I felt like I didn't have a choice. By the time our third came around I'd pretty much thrown in the towel on the whole thing, so she was five before she had a baby book! Thankfully Mary's was easier - by then technology had caught up to my way of doing things. We had her adoption blog printed into book form. Voila - done!<br />
<br />
But this, I can do - videos set to music. I love making them - the kids love watching them. And oh do they watch them! Again and again... which is, of course, the point. Sure, I love it when others (you!) enjoy what I've put together, but I'm fully aware that I'm no expert. These aren't of a quality to impress; they're made for the kids.<br />
<br />
I decided to link them all (or as many of them as I can recollect at the moment) in one place, here. Enjoy. Or don't. But <b><i>do</i></b> make some memories of your own, and capture them in a way that makes <i><b>you </b></i>happy and that <i><b>your</b></i> family will enjoy for years to come!<br />
<br />
2003<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IwfDHogz3PE?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2004<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U-lPebVW5uE?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2005<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5ErdgyOXK0E?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2006 (the year we brought teenager Megan along!)<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LiqSG--oKSc?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2007<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_CRZnRS1_Rw?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2008<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GLq8wTZ-DOs?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
2008 - Mary's adoption video!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/4934581" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
2009<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/4814273" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
2010<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pgU4RwpXh7s?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
January 2011 - Disney!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/19177727" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
Spring Break 2011 - Road Trip/Tour of the Southeast<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/22873718" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
2012 - Back to HHI<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mVwq4iQChTk?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-1155595377397310182012-06-18T17:17:00.001-04:002012-06-18T17:17:14.948-04:00pondering parenting: credits in confidence<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey sweetie, I could use some help. Would you empty these
water bottles, refill them, and put them in the garage fridge?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This task is more complicated for our youngest than it would be for most
kids her age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked several dozen
questions, which I most often answered with, “I don’t know, you decide” or “You
can figure that out on your own”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took her a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had to mop up the floor a few times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And we discovered later that one of the 6 water bottles leaked all over
the inside of the refrigerator because she didn't stand it upright and failed to
seal the lid well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of that would have happened if I’d stood over her.
Directed her. “Helped” her. But a lot more wouldn’t have happened, either.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
She wouldn’t have had to think for
herself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
She wouldn’t have learned that the
world keeps turning if you make a mistake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She wouldn't have learned that she is
capable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, one water bottle leaked, but 5
didn’t - and what did, she cleaned up on her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that, she has a few extra credits in her confidence account. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
Last week our older daughter’s
raft took her far from the shore of North Forest Beach, where we were
vacationing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve heard many accounts of
people being stranded a mile or more out to sea because of this very thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They panic - they don’t know what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure I’d have known what to do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
There was no authority figure
around to verify for her that she’d drifted too far from shore – it was a conclusion she had to arrive at on her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Based on
that assessment, she took a risk:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she
got out of the raft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one directed her
to, she made a decision and acted on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She tried to pull the raft in, but couldn’t - the water was
well above her head, and swimming was too difficult with it in tow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t waver - no time for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She left the raft behind and swam for shore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
Who told her she could do
that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>I'll tell you who. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nobody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 195.6pt;">
Big deal?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe not to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to a 10 year old (and her parents), it
was a very big deal indeed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She has <i><b>more</b></i> than a few extra credits in her confidence account now, too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so do I.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-5674363403716971552012-05-18T14:30:00.001-04:002012-05-18T14:39:18.393-04:00pondering my ponderingsA quick glimpse into how I tick...<br />
<br />
This morning Charlotte Talks played a re-air of an interview with <a href="http://tommytomlinson.com/">Tommy Tomlinson</a>. During it, he said something to the effect of "a writer goes through every part her day as if she's going to write about it". I chuckled at how true that is.<br />
<br />
Today, while cleaning out the car I was walking through (in my head) the entire Bible, trying to find a passage where we find evidence that compassion was ever a bad thing. I didn't arrive at any firm conclusions (at least not yet).<br />
<br />
While vacuuming I thought about whether or not people who say they will "go to their grave" thinking a certain way have the slightest idea what they sound like... or what that even means. I thought about how I can't know whether I'm right or I'm wrong but I pray to God I never turn into a pillar of salt.<br />
<br />
While wiping out the microwave I was thinking about autism, and about how I wish research went into studying the brains of people who actually have it - figuring out how they're wired - and tapping into that, rather than trying to prevent it.<br />
<br />
I thought about how I got to meet Temple Grandin at an Autism Conference last year. I thought about the young man (with autism) who was selling his cartoons there. I thought about how his mother wanted Temple to be impressed, and about how - instead - Temple said flatly, "These are great. Now get him the heck out of here. He shouldn't be traveling to Autism Conferences. He should be out selling his craft to the real world! (she addressed the crowd then) Hear me? Get these kids out of this autism awareness bubble and out into the world!"<br />
<br />
I thought about that a lot.<br />
<br />
I don't have time to write about everything I ponder. I don't even have time to write what I'm writing right now! Writing this is making me late to pick up my daughters. <br />
<br />
I hope I can prioritize my life well. That I can make an impact. That my ponderings aren't lost on the dustbunnies. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-64081275249741376742012-05-17T12:30:00.000-04:002012-05-17T14:08:08.210-04:00pondering finitude<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Brennan Manning says, "</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">.” </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So I won't...</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
I've been dog-sick this week. Let's start with that. Not as an excuse, but as an honest reference point. Yesterday was my first day back to normal routine, with nausea and fatigue still brewing just beneath the surface.<br />
<br />
It began as we left the boys' school following afternoon pickup. She stomped the floor of the car and, from two rows back, threw her headphones at me. Yes, while I was driving. She'd torn the felt from one of the ear coverings. <br />
<br />
"It was loose!" she screamed, before I could say a word.<br />
<br />
I kept my cool.<br />
<br />
"Did you ask someone to help you with it?"<br />
<br />
"No!" she growled back.<br />
<br />
"Okay... well, I'm driving right now, we'll see what we can do with this when we get home."<br />
<br />
And that's when Bruce Banner turned into the Hulk. With the first yell, stomp, and fist-into-the-car-wall I reminded her that by choosing to throw a fit she was forfeiting her freedom once we arrived home. I reminded her that she could choose right now to calm herself. I reminded her that I would help her if she'd let me.<br />
<br />
She didn't.<br />
<br />
I thought about pulling over, but we'd been through this before; getting out of the car only extends and exacerbates things. And the kids were starving. Better to pick the shortest route and get home. Stat.<br />
<br />
Things only escalated as the miles passed. The other three grew increasingly (and understandably) miserable. I tried to make light. We all rolled our windows down and stuck our heads out (well, except me) and sang. It didn't put a dent in the noise she was making. She was flailing her body into their seats. She was throwing things.<br />
<br />
Then ... it happened. Something I'd long feared.<br />
<br />
She hit her sister in the back of the neck. <br />
<br />
Hard.<br />
<br />
That's when I realized how finite I am. That I do, indeed, come to an end.<br />
<br />
I swore at her. With a growl and a volume level I didn't even know I was capable of. They were all wounded by it. <br />
<br />
I pulled over and weighed my options. Sitting her in the front beside me wasn't one - not without a straightjacket, anyway. Last thing we needed was her grabbing hold of the emergency brake or the gear shift. Besides, I didn't trust myself to touch her or even get near her. No - the third row was the best place for her.<br />
<br />
Still-crying-injured sister moved beside me. Brother (who had been beside me) moved in front of Hulk. I instructed that if she so much as laid a finger on him OR his seat, he was to turn around and punch her as hard as he could.<br />
<br />
Brother smiled and smacked his fist into his palm. Hulk screamed louder.<br />
<br />
What was I thinking?? I won't hit her myself, but I instruct him to?? The brother who has been itching for the chance to pummel her, but has never done so because <i><b>I</b></i> taught him that violence isn't the answer? Somewhere inside I knew I was screwing this up. BAD.<br />
<br />
The other three were trying hard to ignore her incessant noise, and not make <b><i>me</i></b> any madder. I could sense this, and I hated it for them. They didn't ask for this... they didn't deserve this. <br />
<br />
"Let's get ice cream!" I announced. "You deserve it for having to ride all the way home with THAT going on!"<br />
<br />
Hulk knew she wasn't getting any and exploded even more. Inside, I was torn between a sick satisfaction and a keen awareness that I was making things worse.<br />
<br />
Birkdale. Ritzy ditzy shopping center in the heart of ticky tacky suburbia. (<i>Seriously? Who brings Hulk to Birkdale?</i>) <br />
<br />
Three went inside to make their choices, while one put on quite the sidewalk show out front.<br />
<br />
"Sit here while I go in and pay." I directed her to a rocking chair in front of the store. I'd have given anything to have had cash on me in that moment. Store clerks don't take kindly to 11 year olds using their mother's debit card.<br />
<br />
She picked up the rocking chair and slammed it down onto the sidewalk. I wanted to do the same thing to her. I literally thought about calling the police to take her away. Or an ambulance to shoot her with a sedative. Somebody. Anybody who would MAKE. THIS. STOP. <br />
<br />
Somehow I managed to pay, then the two of us got back in the car while the other three sat outside enjoying their treats. Watching them, I broke down. I started to wonder things... regret things ... things I usually don't let myself wonder or regret. I tried to stop myself. I tried to picture the tiny helpless five year old who crawled into our lap that first day. Tried to imagine her wallowing away in an Eastern European institution. Starving to death. Unloved. <br />
<br />
But I couldn't. Not this time. I couldn't will away the bad feelings. I looked at the other three sitting peacefully on their bench, and wished with all that was in me that I was sitting next to them instead of stuck in the car ... with her.<br />
<br />
"I have to use the bathroom!" The first intelligible words she'd formed in forty-five minutes. <br />
<br />
"No. Wet your pants for all I care. You can clean the seat up after, too!" <br />
<br />
Yes. I said that. I hated myself now. Hated myself for such evil thoughts and evil words and evil deeds. Hated myself for not being a better mother to her the past three years. For not being able to prevent us getting to this point.<br />
<br />
Her yells turned to whimpers. She really needed to go.<br />
<br />
And so I softened. I sent her in to a bathroom, and she came out calmer. She'd either exhausted herself or the urgency of needing to pee triggered something in her brain - some awareness that she is in fact human after all.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry I hurt my sister," she muttered.<br />
<br />
I tried to make myself think of Bruce Banner. "<i>Did I hurt anybody</i>?" he'd asked, after 'coming to'. I tried to muster sympathy. "Love always forgives". I tried to remember.<br />
<br />
On the ride home, the others were glad to see she was calmer. They wanted us all to be happy again. They'd let it go. Just like I'd taught them. They'd recovered.<br />
<br />
But could I?<br />
<br />
I walked to the back deck with an insurance card and a phone. I got a list of doctors. People who can help. <br />
<br />
Because she needs help. Serious help.<br />
<br />
After dinner, I tucked her into bed early. I sang to her of the steadfast mercies of the Lord, that are new every morning. It didn't take her long to fall asleep. I wasn't surprised. How anyone could keep that up for that long is beyond my comprehension.<br />
<br />
I suggested Daddy join the rest of us for America's Funniest Home Videos, which turned out to be a huge hit. They all laughed. They needed to laugh.<br />
<br />
But I was glad the room was dark. I couldn't laugh.<br />
<br />
Because I need help, too. <br />
<br />
I'm finite. I come to an end.<br />
<br />
Anybody feel that?<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ISqVc4KNxpg?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-34711047988117003862012-05-06T08:18:00.001-04:002012-05-06T08:18:26.524-04:00pondering the why question, with a little help from Buechner"why do you bother?"<br />
<br />
"does it really change anyone's mind?"<br />
<br />
"what difference does it make?"<br />
<br />
I get asked these questions. Sometimes by well meaning friends, sometimes by enemies (physical and otherwise). <br />
<br />
Two summers ago, I read this. I return to it again and again. I'm still working out the hows, but the <b>why</b>? Clear as crystal. <br />
<br />
from <u>Listening to Your Life</u>:<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"...the words you read become in the very act of reading them part of who you are...if there is poison in the words, you are poisoned; if there is nourishment, you are nourished; if there is beauty, you are made a little more beautiful... a word doesn't merely say something, it does something. It brings something into being. It makes something happen...<br />
<br />
what Red Smith said was more or less this: "Writing is really quite simple, all you have to do is sit down at your typewriter and open a vein." ... I couldn't agree with Red Smith more. For my money, anyway, the only books worth reading are books written in blood.<br />
<br />
Write about what you really care about - write about what matters to you - not just things to catch the eye of the world but things to touch the quick of the world the way they have touched you to the quick, which is why you are writing about them.... Then, the things your books make happen will be things worth happening - things that make the people who read them a little more passionate themselves for their pains, by which I mean a little more alive, a little wiser, a little more beautiful, a little more open and understanding, in short <b><i>a little more human</i></b>. <br />
<br />
...looking at their lives in this world as candidly and searchingly and feelingly as they know how and then telling the rest of us what they have found there most worth finding - we need the eyes of writers like that to see through. We need the blood of writers like that in our veins."</blockquote>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-47650284560115250292012-05-03T11:45:00.000-04:002014-08-18T20:39:12.165-04:00pondering conversionIt's no secret I'm a fan of the <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/">Sarcastic Lutheran</a>. But what she writes <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/05/the-conversion-of-phillip-by-a-gender-transgressive-foreigner/">here about Phillip and the Ehtiopean Eunuch</a> is especially ponder-worthy.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is already one of my very favorite stories, but Nadia highlights something new - something I'd only really begun to think about.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who was converted that day? Philip? the Eunuch? both? (read it)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then I started thinking of other conversions in scripture... like Peter's in <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=acts%2010&version=NIV">Acts 10</a> ... </div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">Surely no one can stand in the way of their being baptized with water.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">They have received the Holy Spirit just as we have."</span></span></blockquote>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I started thinking about examples from movies and literature... like <a href="ttp://www.scribd.com/doc/92119054/Huckleberry-Finn">Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn</a> ... Huck chooses to help Jim, even though he believes doing so will condemn him to hell. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 25px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a
close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because
I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a
minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">"All
right, then, I'll GO to hell" -- and tore it up.</span></span><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was awful thoughts and
awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no
more about reforming. "</span></span></blockquote>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I started thinking about <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uH1AHgPw56Y">Robert the Bruce, in Braveheart</a> ... his father tells him that all men betray, all men lose heart. He passionately retorts, </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't want to lose heart!! I will never be on the wrong side again."</span></span></blockquote>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">These aren't </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"bow your head and close your eyes and raise your hand and repeat this prayer after me" </i>moments</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. These are moments of life change. Of repentance. Of refusal to turn back no matter how many entreat, warn, or accuse you.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">These are conversions.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I remember my own. It brings us full circle <a href="http://thehardestquestion.org/yearb/easter5nt-2/">to Nadia and to Stuart</a>. She explains, there, that Stuart had converted his friends "again and again", to his faith.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Well, Stuart converted me, too. I wrote this (below) nearly a year ago. I said, then, that I wouldn't turn back. I'm ashamed to admit I've been tempted to! But I haven't. And I won't. Because now I know so many more Stuarts, and they convert me... <i><b>again and again</b></i>.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">another post about the Wild Goose Festival..</span> </blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">While listening to <a href="http://www.phyllistickle.com/" style="color: #992211; text-decoration: none;">Phyllis Tickle</a> speak, I looked over my shoulder and saw <a href="http://www.sarcasticlutheran.typepad.com/" style="color: #992211; text-decoration: none;">The Sarcastic Lutheran</a> standing right near me. I knew it was her even though I had no idea what her real name was (it's Nadia). I introduced myself, and we talked a bit when she suddenly asked, "Would you like to serve communion at the bluegrass liturgy this evening?" Now, ponder <i><b>that</b></i> with me: The Sarcastic Lutheran is asking the Waffling Presbyterian to serve communion at the Bluegrass Liturgy. WILD goose indeed!</span> </blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Of course I agreed, though I wasn't convinced I was "allowed". </span> </blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">The service was ... well, it was heavenly! The music was familiar (bluegrass hymns!), the liturgy beautiful, and the sermon brilliant. Then it came time for communion. There were so many people that they set up several serving stations. I was assigned to a station along with Stuart, a member of Nadia's church. Someone quickly threw out, "You know Stuart, right? The tall, handsome gay guy with the mohawk!" I literally had no clue what I was doing, and wondered how I'd find this Stuart person in such a sea of people. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Turns out it wasn't hard. :)</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Stuart and I took our places - he served the bread, I served the wine. Each time someone walked up I watched him look deep into their eyes and say, "The body of Jesus, broken for you". Then I looked deep into their eyes and said, "The blood of Jesus, shed for you." Something washed over me as this process repeated over and over, over and over. I knew that I believed it, whole-heartedly. That whoever stood in front of me, <span style="font-style: italic;">no matter who they were or what they were or where they came from or where they were going</span>, these words I spoke were true: "The blood of Jesus, SHED FOR YOU." I'm not getting into eucharist arguments here, that's not my point. My point is that I participated with the Spirit in an unmistakeable way as I communicated that Truth to every person who stood before me, inviting them to participate in it. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Every person. Every one. "God bless us, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">every one<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">".</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Then, when our line had ended, Stuart laid a gluten free wafer on my tongue, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "The body of Christ, broken for you." I was weeping by this point, but I handed him the cup and said, "The blood of Christ, shed for you." And we hugged. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I knew then, that I'd never be able to go back. And that I didn't want to.</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Thank you, <a href="http://sarcasticlutheran.typepad.com/sarcastic_lutheran/" style="color: #992211; text-decoration: none;">Sarcastic Lutheran</a>. Thank you <a href="http://www.houseforall.org/" style="color: #992211; text-decoration: none;">House For All Sinners and Saints</a>. Thank you Stuart.</span></blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3032586311646529871.post-66139849135029822482012-05-03T10:55:00.002-04:002012-05-03T12:58:53.776-04:00pondering with the naked pastor and josh garrellsthe <a href="http://www.nakedpastor.com/2012/05/03/words-words-words/">sickness</a>:<br />
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the <a href="http://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/track/farther-along">cure</a>: </div>
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repeat as needed...<br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Still I get hard pressed on every side</span></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Between the rock and the compromise</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Like the truth and a pack of lies fightin’ for my soul</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">And I’ve got no place left go</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Cause I got changed by what I’ve been shown</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">More glory than the world has known</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Keeps me ramblin’ on</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> and</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Skipping like a calf loosed from its stall</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">I’m free to love once and for all</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">And even when I fall I’ll get back up</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">For the joy that overflows my cup</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Heaven filled me with more than enough</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Broke down my levee and my bluff</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Let the flood wash me</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> ...</span></span></i></b></blockquote>
</blockquote>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11953038703407913981noreply@blogger.com0