Institutions or what?

I went back to a website I used to frequent written by a Christian musician (I stopped frequenting it because I was continually annoyed by what he said). Remembered why I don't go there so often.

Also I came to a conclusion about something that has bothered me for a long time. Something I always want to participate in discussions and arguments over, but can't ever think of the best way to say it. It's the whole stupid Acts 2 argument. That churches aren't doing it right. That we don't have real community and the solution is to stop going to institutionalized church and form your little community in a home church, so that you can really know everyone you worship with.

I suppose there's some validity to that conclusion. It especially works in areas where there is no solid church to attend. But I think that we deprive ourselves of significant growth opportunities by choosing to seclude ourselves because of our disillusionment with stereotypical churches.

And I don't think it has to be one way or the other. I think it should be BOTH. And I know that this isn't brain surgery and lots of people have said it, but I've leaned more toward the traditional church practice and away from "home churches" or "small groups" or "upper room" environments.

Both have something to offer, though. And both should be part of our daily lives. Because the people in Acts devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching AND to the breaking of bread. And they met in the temple courts AND they broke bread in their homes and ate together. (Acts 2:42-47). Most importantly, the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

And that's key, I think. The adding to their numbers. Not for the sake of numbers, but for the sake of GOd and His Name. I really don't think anyone should run away, neglecting the large bodies of churches without a better reason than "there's no community". Because ministry teams, Bible studies, small groups and whatever can and should exist within a church. But they alone cannot offer the same things that an established church with well-equipped staff. (I don't have time to elaborate on that idea, but I'm not just spouting off opinions there. I mean, it is an opinion, but I have some foundations for it as well.)

But maybe I'm just talking.

Technology, friend or foe?

I apologize for the cliche title.

My Space, xanga, Facebook, Blogger, Juno, Gmail, lycosmail. I have an account with each of these. And I still can't figure out how to manage most of them. My junk mail lycos account finally probably shut down. I only made it so my academic decathlon coach wouldn't know my real address, and then I kept using it for internet things that ask for your address.
I have no idea how to use facebook or myspace really. And I have no desire to learn. I do what I can when I have time, but I honestly don't care about them. It's just that all of my cousins have myspace accounts, as well as a couple of friends from high school.
And I actually kind of like xanga better than other things, even though it's behind. Even though it was kind of the first thing. I always seem to jump on board right away, and then everyone else goes in new directions just when I'm starting to like where I'm at.
I remember my first e-mail account. It was with AOL before 4 million people had aol accounts. Me and my high school friends would e-mail each other because we all ahd e-mail. But most people didn't until the next year.
I like being able to stay in touch with friends who move away. But I feel like all of these things leave me lacking. I can read what other people think, but in order to give a really good response, I feel like I'd need to be sitting across from them at a coffee house face-to-face. I can read stuff that my kids write online and be deeply offended and bothered by them, but they feel invincible online and if you call them out on it, they like to pretend like it's not the real world.
And I wonder if it is.
Not to hack to death an old subject, but I'm starting to feel like these online communities are worse for us than they are good. As an "adult", I've really appreciated how I can use them to stay in contact. But some of the people I knew in high school would probably rather not be found by me. And I wish I hadn't found some of them, too. Because then I could go on thinking that they just lost touch, not that they stopped wanting to be in touch (which is the case in some of my relationships, but not all).
BUt seriously. I really wonder if high schoolers have too much of their lives invested in these things. If maybe there wouldn't be as many misunderstandings and fights if they didn't exist. Or if they were used in proportion.

And another problem I have is that I really don't have time for even one blog, let alone two or three and all of the comments and ebullitions that go along with them. And uploading pictures and whatever. I just get tired of it, but I feel chained to them because if I stop using them, I'll lose contact with my friends. I don't feel like it should be that way. I feel like my friends should be willing to stay in contact without internet technology (email excluded). Phones still exsist. So do phone books. And I live in the same city I have all my life, so I don't know why it's so hard for people to find me. Blah. I'd better stop because I'm getting grumpy. ANd so is my baby.

Ten Years Ago

Ten years ago, I was in the middle of the worst year of my life. Not only was I losing the friends I'd always known, I was also doing very poorly in math, felt like a misfit everywhere I went, and was in the middle of a spiritual crisis. My family had just left the church I'd grown up in. We left on bad terms, due to differences in theology. We were asked to leave. but I still think we were the ones who were right. And now I'm glad we did leave, but then it didn't look so good.
Things were happening that didn't make any sense. I was hurt, and I had a lot of questions. Like how could a church be so mean? Why did Christians hurt us so much? If that was where I'd learned all about God, what if everything I knew is wrong? What was I supposed to do to stop my friends from following bad doctrine? How could I follow God when everything looked so hopeless?
I couldn't necessarily articulate everything I was feeling, but looking back, I see that I was crushed. Everything I'd found security in was shaken, including my family. We were like church refugees, and we all had different questions and concerns that we were wrestling with. I am so thankful for Brian, my internet friend, who was stable and supportive when I was so confused.

Ten years ago, I visited a new church with my family. When we came in the doors, a red-haired man greeted us with a friendly smile. He led us through the donut line and to one of the front rows of the sanctuary, which was a bunch of chairs lined up in an old elementary school gym. He talked to my dad and told him about his family. "Six boys. I could like that," I joked to my brother.
I didn't realize that I was going to like that. In fact, I was going to fall deeply in love with one of them only a few years later. And marry him.

I didn't realize a lot of things then, because I was lonely and hurt. My faith in God was weak, my family members were dealing with their own problems in their own ways (because that's what we're like), and my broken relationships left me fearful that even the ones I cherished the most were only temporary. I didn't realize that God was involved with every event of that time, and that He was working in my heart to teach me to love him and serve Him better. I didn't realize that healing would come. I didn't even realize then how bitterness was taking hold in my heart and would eat at me for years to follow.
What I did understand, though, was that day, I felt like I was in a place I could start to like. I met one of the sons of the guy who had introduced himself to us. He sat with me and my brother and talked about the youth group and life. At least two other people greeted us happily. I liked this church. And I remember feeling so relieved that there was a chance to fit in among God's people again.
In so many ways, God restored to me the years the locusts ate. I thought I fit in at my old youth group, but it was never anything like this new church. I met one of my closest friends on the first day there (although we didn't really become close friends for several more years), and built countless other deep solid friendships that sustained me through high school and college. I met my husband and his fantastic family. I got to know a youth pastor who changed my life by the things he said to me personally and to the youth group. I had a chance to lead worship and be involved in so many ways. I was accepted and included. It was so amazing.

Now when I look back at that time, I'm so happy it happened like it did. There are a lot of things I wish had happened differently. but I've been contemplative lately, and I've realized that sometimes in order for God to do big things, we have to let go of the things we're familiar with.
Sometimes we can do it on our own, but sometimes it has to be torn from us against our will. And then I guess, it's just my job to be open for new things and let God keep doing His work.

Concerns about New Age and the Church

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by the status of the Church? Or the world? I often do, but I try not to think about it so much and do what I can about the little things. But once in a while, there are things i can't push aside, things that shouldn't be ignored or blown off. And, little or big, I can't sit around and watch them without saying something.

Like yoga. I felt bad at my Bible study last week when I made a comment that I didn't think we should be doing yoga. My friends seemed to think I was going off the deep end. And I really did feel bad for offending them if I did, and for saying what I did. But at the same time, I believe it's truth, and I'm honestly afraid not to speak the truth about the New Age, because I see it seeping into the Church so often. And it worries me that many will be led astray like in 2 Timothy chapter 4.

Then I got to thinking about Yoga, and why Christians practice it. And it worries me that so many people are willing to just do whatever as long as it doesn't pose a direct threat or send up immediate red flags. I feel as if many Christians aren't taking time to actually think and research, pray and be taught about the practices they keep. Maybe they aren't all as godly as they sound. Maybe they aren't biblical.

So let me take a minute to educate my readers on Yoga. It's a part of the Hindu religion, a practice used to unite your soul with the Greater Soul of the universe, to allow you to meditate without the distraction of physical pain or constraints. The positions ("stretches") are each designed with a specific purpose to accomplish that goal. In this article, I read that Hindus are actually bothered by Christians practicing yoga and claiming they can use it as a Christian exersize. One Swami said that the idea of yoga as exersize is like calling Baptism underwater aerobics. It simply wasn't meant to be used that way--it was meant as a spiritual endeavor. If I were to ask everyone in my bible study to keel toward Mecca and pray to Allah, they would say I was insane. If I were to say "In the spirit of the Muslims who look toward Mecca and pray five times a day, I think that we should maybe try doing that this week. I think it would connect us with God", I think my friends would tell me I'm insane. But the same kind of attitude is used in practicing yoga. When I hear "I want to do a yoga class" I really hear, "Let's go do stretches that were designed to connect us with an ungodly spirit". With or without the actual meditation part, we are still emulating a religion that we claim to be seperate from.

I probably do sound like a fanatic. But I just get nervous when I see people taking part in New Age practices and claiming that it is part of their walk with God. I know that many people say that to them, yoga is just a form of exersize, but I take issue with that. Because no Hindu will tell you that their yoga is just exersize. And the yoga taught in America today is modeled right after the Hindu practice.

If we state that GOd is original, and Christianity is unique from hindu, Islam, Judeaism, etc, then why are we borrowing practices from those religions? Why would we want to take part in something that came from a stated foe of Christianity? We do not believe that "all paths lead to God" or that "Everything has some part of God in it". We do not believe that practices are what unite us with God, but rather that it is His grace alone, through Christ's sacrifice for us on the cross. While exersize in and of itself is beneficial, I wonder why we have such trouble handling our stress, when Jesus told us to come to Him with our burdens (Matthew 11:28), and to cast our anxiety on Him because He cares for us (2 Peter 5:7). That said, I'm not sure that we need yoga to relax ourselves. And I have dealt with my share of stress. I think that we're depriving oruselves of a chance to know God better and trust Him more wholly when we decide to use New Age methods to calm our anxiety instead of the old fashioned prayer and patience.

I don't like arguing with people, and I don't like having to defend myself when it's something, to me, that anyone should see as a problem. New Age practices have no place in the church. God is original. God speaks to us in these last days through His Son (Hebrews 1:2), and the God-breathed scripture (1 Timothy 3:16-17). He has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Christ (2 Peter 1:3), and we are complete, thoroghly equipped for every good work (1 Tim 3:17) through scripture and Christ.

If you've read this far, I want to encourage you to start looking into practices and teachings that don't align themselves with Scripture. And to familiarize yourself with heretical docterine so that you can be able to discern it. I'm not saying that as a fanatic, but as one who has taken to heart what Ephesians 5:15 and 16 say: See then that you walk carefully, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. I leave you with this, and hope that you are still my friends.

Colossians 2:8-10 NKJV
Beware lest anyone cheat you throuh philosphy and empty deciet, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ. For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and YOU ARE COMPLETE IN HIM, who is the head of all principality and power.

My 40th Post!

This feels like my forth, but apparently it's my forthieth... or blogger can't count. I didn't spend time looking back, but maybe I should.
Anyway, this is a poem about a certain teenager I know, but it applies to many I've met and talked with. And I don't really know if it's any good, but the one person who I know for sure reads my blog will at least be interested in it.

Something tells me you've spent most of your years
running from things no one should see
and, hiding from the monsters
you fear
to take off your mask and live without lies
It could mean everything you've ever known will vanish

And something tells me
your thoughts are riddled with
confusion and questions
and the pain of saying goodbye
to everything you've believed
and lived that caused you to die
threatens to unravel your new life.

Still you can see Someone moving,
changing your being--forming your heart
and you sense His call
More than just a passing pleasure or a flickering dream
forgotten like the dried leaves of fall
more than the best things you've craved
is His dream for your life and all
you've ever lived to believe in
So don't forget--and don't ever let go
because He's holding you
and it's better to believe in the whisper of hope
than to die in the shriveling thorns.

PDT Eye-Theatre and Generations

I've heard a lot of people lately saying things like, "I'm 25 and accomplished nothing" or "I'm almost thirty and have nothing to show for it". Got me thinking. When does a person need to have accomplished what they're supposed to have accomplished? Why are we so dissatisfied with the things we are accomplishing?

So many of us are saying that we feel like we're still kids, but at the same time we're saying we're getting old.

What is old? Is that when the kids you babysat start graduating from high school? Or the kids down the street talk about things and you have no idea what they're even saying? Or maybe it's when you stop being able to keep up with new developments in technology. I think that people in our grandparents' generation are completely overwhelmed right now because of the changes that happen so fast. They had technology when they were our age, but it didn't develop so quickly. I mean, think about how three years ago hardly anyone had LCD monitors. Now they're making Geordie LeForge goggles you can watch movies on! A forth grader was telling me about them today, and I seriously started wondering if he was trying to pull my leg. And then I thought to myself that maybe I'm old. Not only does the pdt eye theater sound completely useless and unnecessary, it's the kind of thing we imagined when we thought of a hundred years from now... and it's now. Ten years ago, the things we thought were thirty or fifty years in the future are starting to happen now.
I think about my grandparents and the lives they've lived. And now they aren't really able to keep up with technology and society (although my grandma really can hold her own with computers), but something tells me they weren't wondering what they'd accomplished when they were twenty-five. They'd already lived through the darkest period of American history (arguably, but don't argue), and would only live to see more hard times. But I think that their lives were richer then.
Which brings me back to the original question. Why is my generation so dissatisfied with what they are accomplishing? People who are headed up the ladder in their business offices, own their own businesses, have their master's degrees, etc. are wishing that they were married and "settled down". People who have families (and I am included in this often), see their lives and wish that they'd finished college or wonder why they aren't pursuing a career. People who aren't married think they're headed to the reject pile; people who are married think they need kids; and the cycle goes on and on until we're seventy-five and die?
I've never been a believer in that whole carpe diem idea. I believing in looking ahead and behind and being content to live in today expecting the consequences for whatever choices I make. I think that when we can see our current life as part of a lifetime, all of the experiences and relationships now contributing to our futures, it's easier to get a perspective and realize that what we do now is important, not only for ourselves, but for others.
The technology and developments are continually causing us to think forward, and pushing and pulling us toward our uncertain futures. But I think that we need to slow down a little more often and consider the value of whatever position we're in, and enjoy it while we're there.
But I'm just wondering out loud. What do you think?

The Price

Here's a depressing poem I wrote recently, thinking about how people get bored with me after a while, and about the risks it takes to make new friends. I left off the end because I didn't like the way it was written, but it leaves the rest of this sort of unresolved... oh well, I guess it's more poetic that way. Be assured, I'm not really that depressed. It was just one of those times when I was analyzing my life and relationships, and I write poems to figure things out (which I did at the end of the poem that I left off, so I guess you'll all just have to resolve it in your own way).

Somewhere in my memory is the phrase
"I don't want to be your friend anymore"
etched in unspoken forms
like the new group of girls who finally accepted her
or in the college far away
the call to move to central Asia
or marriage vows to a jealous wife
those things that say "I don't like you anymore"--
or worse "I'll always like you but you aren't worth
the time it takes while I pursue my life"
Make the fear that I'll never really fit in
that I'll always be a back-burner friend
a fear that stays and torments me
every time I try again

Every Little Baby

I think that we're supposed to learn things about God by having our own children. since He's our Father, and He treats us like his kids. My youth pastor said something to us like that on Sunday, so I've been thinking about how helpless babies are and how they can't really do anything for themselves.

Arlene needs me to provide for her needs. She might not know that I'm doing it always, and she can';t say thank you or even smile yet. I guess God looks at us that way, even though we don't always recognize that He's the one supplying things, and that without Him we'd be completely helpless. he still loves us and cares for us.

And right now I feel pretty helpless too. This song has been running through my head for the last three weeks every time I start thinking about this subject. It's always been one of my favorites; now it makes even more sense.

Hold On - Twila Paris

Every little baby comes into the world
Reaching for an anchor, fingers tightly curled
Grasping for a reason without knowing why
We will cling to anything 'til the day we die
We can hold on to sorrow, hold on to pain
We can hold on to anger when there is nothing to be gained
We can hold to a thread at the end of a rope
But if we hold on to Jesus we are holding on to hope
Hold on, hold on
This is human nature; this is what He planned
When He put our hearts inside, when He made these hands
We are here to reach for Him, never letting go
This is all we need to have, all we need to know
We can hold on to money, hold on to fame
We can hold on to glory and the honor of a name
We can hold to a thread at the end of a rope
But if we hold on to Jesus we are holding on to hope
Hold on, hold on
Go on hold on, hold on

p.s. that is not Daniel's hand in the picture with arlene; it's Nathan's. He wanted to take a picture of her perfect fist (she has good genes for fighting crime).

The Piano

Somewhere around fifty years ago, my grandparents bought a piano from a family down the road in a little white house with red shutters. They moved it from the wall where it had sat for most of its life, and hauled it four miles home to their tiny farm house so their kids could take piano lessons.

That piano sat in that farm house for forty-some years, probably. Long enough for five kids to take lessons, grow up, have children of their own, and move out of the state. It was played--sometimes well, sometimes poorly. Sometimes it sat for a month without being touched. Other times it was pounded upon by inexpereinced fingers who just wanted to make noise. On occasion, an apt cousin of mine would sit and plunk out "Heart and Soul" or "Chopsticks" some other lame piano lesson song that everyone manages to learn in their lifetime. And once in a while--on specal occasions--someone with a little more musical aptitutude would sit for a moment and play a hymn or two using the old music collection from the piano bench.

Five years ago, my grandparents moved out of their farm house, four miles up the road to "town". Ironically, the house they moved into was the little white house with red shutters--the piano's original home. And in the move, while furniture was all squeezed into new places, the piano found its way back to the same place it had sat fifty years ago. Against the same wall. Same keys, same legs, just a little more worn now. And that tired old piano sits there, while new fingers find their way to its keys and play. Sometimes poorly, sometimes well.

I feel like that piano lately. Like I've spent most of my life being played and learned from, got familiar with that life, and then suddenly, I'm back right where I started more tired and worn than I was to begin with. Backed up against a wall, easily overlooked and used as a shelf instead of what my purpose really is. Seemingly nothing to show for all of the pain and trials, all of the pushing and plunking and playing. BUt maybe, like the piano, there are still new things in store. Sure, there will always be the annoying people who have to sit down and play "Heart and Soul", always litle kids who want to make noise. But maybe there are others waiting to play--others who weren't around when I was first in that starting place.

Two years ago in the middle of a snow storm, a visitor stopped over at the little white house with red shutters. He had just moved into one of the onyl other houses in the town and wanted to come say hi. He'd liked the loook of the open Montana prairie, the quietness of few neighbors. He'd found a little school house for sale in Four Buttes with a trailer beside it. And the school house had its own piano. Turns out, this visitor was a professional musician from Idaho, and he had wanted to find a place to work on his music without being interrupted. Our excited relatives urged him to play for us, so he sat down at the tired piano and plunked out some fantastic ragtime tunes--ones he'd written himself, and other composed ones. songs that no one in our family had the talent to play. Songs that that old piano had probably never heard before. songs that could make the old keys jump and dance. I think if that piano were alive, it would have jiggled across the floor in such excitement, thinking "I've waited my whole life for this!"

So maybe that's why I'm back up against this same wall I started at long ago. Maybe I'll go other places before I make it back here again. But some day, the experience and wear from being played through the years will pay off, and I can be used by a master Musician and dance in glee, singing, "I've waited my whole life for this! This is what I was made for."

The Teflon Conspiracy

Many of you may remember my original rant on conspiracies. I've discovered a new one. Teflon. You've heard the old addage "if nothing sticks to teflon, how does teflon stick to the pan?" The true answers is, actually, it doesn't stick to the pan. If comes off in cancer-causing flakes after a few uses. Even if you're careful to only use nylon spatulas and wash it with the nifty little pampered chef scraper, you'll find that eventually, the resilliant material does not adhere.

The conspiracy? I think that they knew about this when they invnented the first teflon pan. But they decided to do it anyway. They even let the FDA or whoever it was discover the carsinigans present in the chemicals. That way, people who carefully guard their healthy lifestyles and watch for chipping materials will throw out their teflon pans and replace them. At least for a few years. More money for the Teflon-using companies. More money for doctors and drug companies. Everyone's happy.

Until I expose their evil exploits and everyone starts buying stainless steel and using steel wool to clean. It's really not that difficult. And think of all the benefits. You can worry about other, less obvious health risks instead of thinking about cancer every time you want a pan of stir-fry.

Critisms v. Christianity

I'm going to take a few minutes to vent my raw thoughts on some things I've been reading lately. Forgive me if they'[re incoherant or disagreeable (I expect they might be disagreed with). Here's what I've been noticing in blogs and conversations from people in the gen-x and whatever generation I am in: We're bored with church so we feel the need to critisize it.

I've heard a lot of cynical remarks about the American church and how materialistic, self-centered, unfocused, etc it is. These arguments range from blaming "relevance" and "emergent" to embracing the postmodern mindset and everything in between. I especially get annoyed when I hear people picking at the American church in general... as if it can be distinguished as worse than the African churches that preach the prosperity gospel, or the sparse European churches filled with folks who go out of obligation. Or Soviet churches that still apply communistic principles (corruption) to the way their church operates. Or the Asian churches that are so isolated that the pastors have to come up with their own theology which may or may not be heretical. Sheesh. What are you complaining abbout? At least in America you can find another church... or turn on the radio and listen to a credible preacher.

While it's necessary to evaluate our standing and operations, I'm not certain critisizing it will do much to help. And comparing it to other countries? That's the stupidest thing I've heard. I get sooooo angry when I read or listen to people whining about how pathetic the American church is when nearly every other country in the world is filled with pagan religions, persecution, political corruption, and misguided docterine.

Don't sit around analyzing society and how it's affecting the Church and whining about how no one understands. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Start serving Jesus. I think that when we stop thinking about everything that's wrong and trying to fix it in our philisophical discussions, and start worshipping Christ and working out His principles, there is a shift in perspective that would do everyone good. But maybe I'm naieve. I do have a really good church. And I did do the whole Christian college thing, where everyone is so satisfied and comfortable with their faith that they actually become dissatisfied (I know it's paradoxal, but it's true). And I'm probably pretty conservative... But people really should try visiting a Russian or African church before complaining about the American ones.

Sheep's Clothing ~ A Parable that I didn't cut and paste from another website or copy from a book

Larry dressed in a suit coat, wore glasses, and had neatly combed hair. He was not like other wolves that had tried to enter the flock, who shouted obscene things, talked like they knew more than the sheep, and always got caught by Shepherd. Larry was flashy and neat, and said all the right things. He was such a sneaky, well-disguised wolf that none of the sheep were alarmed when, instead of awakening to the shepherd’s call, they heard the smooth, soothing voice of the wolf. “Shepherd’s sent me to take care of you while he’s away.”

“Where did he go?” Ben asked. “He didn’t say he was going anywhere.” Ben was a smart sheep, and the oldest of the flock. He knew his Shepherd well. “Something came up at the last minute.” Larry smiled convincingly, but Ben wasn’t sure about Larry. He dressed fancy, and looked a little like a shepherd, but there was something else familiar about him. Something dangerous.

None of the sheep recognized Larry as a wolf. They went on grazing and flocking, and being generally content. Larry was a lot like the Shepherd. He listened to the sheep’s needs. He gave them advice on what to eat. He made promises about leading them to better meadows with fresher water and greener grass. And he always had an answer for any of their questions.

After a few weeks, the flock trusted Larry so much, that they followed him away from their pen to a new meadow. “We shouldn’t leave. The Shepherd will be back soon,” Ben warned. But no one listened to him, so he followed them to the new stream. The water didn’t look as clear as the other places the flock had used, but they trusted Larry, so they carefully climbed the rocks to drink the murky water.

Ben only took one drink of the water. It tasted terrible, and dried his mouth out. It was not the kind of water Shepherd took them to. While Ben watched the other sheep, he caught a reflection in the water that troubled him deeply. It was Larry’s, but in the water, without the clothes and glasses, Larry looked a lot like a wolf.

That night, after Larry had gone to bed, Ben shared his concerns. “He said the shepherd sent him, but he doesn’t talk like the shepherd. And he led us to bad water that left us thirstier.”

“Larry said it’s better,” Deacon insisted.

“What about Shepherd!”

“Larry said if he cared about us, he would have found us by now.”

“He’ll be looking for us until he finds us. Larry is a wolf. He’ll eat us in the night if we don’t find Shepherd!”

“Why should we listen to you?” one sheep asked defiantly.

“Yeah. We want to stay with Larry,” the other sheep agreed.

“I know the shepherd, and he wouldn’t lead us to bad water. He wouldn’t take us so far away from the safe places! We need to find him!”

“Baaa,” the sheep said, and plugged their ears.

Ben kept trying to argue, but no one would listen. Pretty soon, the sheep got tired of hearing him. They demanded that he leave the flock. Ben knew there was no way to make them listen except to find Shepherd, so he left them.

After days of looking, Ben found Shepherd at the murky stream. None of the other sheep were with him. Shepherd was sitting alone on a rock, crying. When Ben came near, Shepherd grabbed him and held him tightly. “I tried to warn them,” Ben said weakly.

Shepherd nodded his head. “If only they had known me as well as you do. Then they could have been saved.”

Adding to The Beauty

"Sit with me and tell me once again/of the story that's been told us/of the power that will hold us/of the beauty/of the beauty. Why it matters.

Sit with me until I understand/why our thinking/and creating/and our efforts of mirrating/of the beauty, of th ebeauty/ why it matters."

~ sara Groves "Why it Matters" 2005




The first time I heard this song (which you should all download if you enjoy good music with a fabulous message), I was captured by it. Musically, it drew me in. Lyrically, I was intrigued. I listened to it six times. I pulled out the liner notes and read the lyrics carfully. It's a song about art, and why, out of all the things we do in life, it matters.

I'm not a fantastic artist, nor will I ever claim to be. but I love art. I love the beauty it creates, the beauty it reveals, and the power that draws you in, calling you closer and closer to the Creator. I love being able to use the finite abilities I have to create. Obviously for those of you who know me, I spend most of my creative energy creating stories and elaborate worlds in which my characters exsist. BUt, as I've said before in previous ways, I'm discovering that being an artist is more than enjoying art, or being able to create it. A Christian artist has a call--to emphasize and add to the beauty of God. I'm understanding that in new ways as I listen to artists I respect elaborate on their theories about it, and as God begins to show me that creativity is inborn and useful, because He uses it in a way that no spoken word or piece of theology can be used. As my writing curriculum states: "[It] create[s] a world filled with light and life. a world that mirros and interprets for our readers God's creation, that explains and organizes meaning, insight, and emotion--that points the way." It speaks to a part of our soul that is unreachable by intellect and rationale and logic. It moves beyond the tendancy to analyze and disect, and pulls out the parts of us that are daily shoved aside and forced to hide, the parts of us that were created in God's image.

In orther words, it matters.

Ministry Wear

I'm wondering today, in the wake of a weekend retreat with eight teens, what elements are necessary in a person of ministry to be effective. Does one need to have a completely wholesome attitude at all times? Do you have to want to do it all the time, or is there a place for duty and commitment to play its part? I ask this becuase, lately I haven't really felt like doing much of anything. I'm involved in two ministries right now. Younglife and childcare at church. To be honest, neither one of them is something I spend the week looking forward to. Childcare is OK, but I spend a lot of time with kids, and something about church kids kind of annoys me (that's another subject all together). Young Life has been good up until now, but lately I've been wondering what my position there should be. I am not an attractive personality. I'm easily annoyed, especially when it invovles respect or lack thereof. I hate the music they listen to, and on top of that I don't think that my "work" is effective or useful. I wonder if I'm not trying hard enough or doing enough, but the idea of doing more exhausts me.
And then there's the whole question of my motives. It's so easy, when working with "at risk" teens, to want to solve their social, economic and spiritual problems, but really they just need to know Christ. But once they know HIm, I feel like they get left hanging. And that's where they want to be. I haven't seen a thirst for knowing Him better in any of the girls. I haven't noticed a desire to change their lives. It's like they see the leaders' lives, and they want them, but they can't conclude that if they don't make some changes, their life is headed the same way their parents' was... they're used to things. And breaking a cycle or changing a lifestyle is not something anyone wants to do because of the work involved. And it seems like no matter what I say, they aren't realizing that. (I've come to this revelation after the retreat).
I don't know where the answers are. People can sit around and analyze their ministries and reorganize and try new spins, but I haven't seen that doing a lto of good. And this emerging church stuff seems to only encourage the lifestyle that is the very barrier we're trying to break down. I guess I'm just frustrated. That the work and prayer and planning doesn't amount to anything at the end of the day. Probably tomorrow I'll feel beter about it. I'm sure some prayer and Bible-searching will take care of it all.

Family to Be

There's a commercial on the radio for Northwestern College distance ed. It's this guy who says something to this effect: "So you wanna go to college? I know what you're thinking. You can't go to college! Live in teh dorms! Eat six-day-old pizza from a box. Wear your hat backwards, upsideodwn and inside-out. but the desire is still there." I've been feeling like that tone of voice lately. "You can't be a mom. Raise a family. Walk around with a stroller and a baby on board sign. Wake up every three hours in the middle of the night."

BUt maybe there is a desire there still anyway. I've had time to get past a lot of the initial fears. And I don't doubt God's ability to make me into a parent. In fact, I definately have a head start over a lot of people because I had fantastic parents (and I've been exposed to hundreds of terrible parents at daycare). BUt there are little parts of me that still think this is the most ridiculuos thing that's ever happened, and I'm definately the last person who should be doing this. Really, the hardest part for me to deal with is the whole baby phase. I like toddler and preschool. I've had a lot of exposure to that age. Babies aren't as fun to me. BUt it's OK.

Anyway, I wrote all of that so I could share a poem that someone left in our church mailbox. It was left anonymously, but I inadvertadly found out who had put it there because the youth adults pastor had seen it and asked me if I was actually pregnant. But that's a side note. And I don't know whether or not this particular person wrote the poem or if he just found it somewhere. It's pithy. It's trite. It's sappy. But it's true, and it was special at the same time. (And we all know that I'm the least sappy person alive).

New Baby

The love between a man and wife

is a mystery so sweet

But it seems without a child to love

'tis somehow incomplete

So God looked down from heaven,

to choose whom he could trust

with His special little bundle

Created from the dust.

He knew He could trust you;

He chose you and you alone,

to raise this lovely baby

in your happy, loving home.

--Author Unknown

Frail

A lot of you have already heard that Daniel's youngest brother, ELliot was in a car accident a few weeks ago. There were a lot of ways he could have died, but fortunately, he made it out with seven broken bones and a punctured skull. I think it's ironic that Elliot, who home-schools, lives in Iowa, and is only twelve years old, is the one who just had a life-scraping experience when Wyatt is a medic in Iraq and is daily exposed to the dangers of war.

My younger brother is also getting fired at, but he's in basic training so it's a little more controlled. Ironically, still, though, it was my older brother who nearly died a couple of months ago when he slipped and fell down a waterfall, hitting his body against some jagged rocks. He works on a cruise ship and gets to do vacationy things all the time.

I think it makes an interesting point, though. If you had to choose who was more prone to death: a soldier in Iraq or a twelve-year-old homeschooler; a training private at Fort Benning or a light technician for Carnival cruises, who would you choose? I'd more than likely go with both of the former choices (I actually heard of two people who died at Benning a couple of years ago when one of my friends was there).

My point is that we are all frail. And we don't know when our life will end. Nearly everything we do is a risk. So I guess we should take more chances.

Life kicking me in the butt

I don't really have anything significant to write right now, but I felt like I should say something. I hate that feeling.

The Integrity of Words

Apparently I can no longer edit my posts. They say there are no posts found. Funny. They're still sitting there on my blog. Whatever. I have more important things to talk about. The integrity of words, namingly.

My college roommate posted her thoughts on this article,which I thought were interesting. It got me to thinking about the way our culture has watered things down to easy, thoughtless statements and sentiments. I've been getting frustrated with my inability to use words like I want to. When I read classic literature-- Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Tennison, Longfellow and so forth-- I discover how richly worded everything is. That is in part to the author's ability and talent. It is also in part to the wealth of vocabulary that exsisted in even the uneducated.

We were talking about family dinners the other night, and my friend Karen said that tey had a small table and never had to ask to have things passed because they could reach everything. Erin said, "that's called boarding room reach," and everyone noded their heads. I hadn't ever heard that phrase used before. And I got annoyed with myself. But it's not totally my fault that I don't hear these things. They arne't used anymore. Granted, if I bothered to look up more words and phrases, I would be more prolific, but there is still a leanness of words. And of their meaning.

I think a major part of the problem is our relativistic mindset. The it-means-what-I-want-it-to mindset. I was on a poetry site where we can comment on each others' poetry. I'd been noticing that one particular poet used the poetic word jaded in nearly every poem (ironically). So I mentioned that. I also quoted Wesley from the Princess Bride when he was talking to Vizzini: "You keep using that word. I'm not sure you know what it means." The poet responded saying, "I like the word. To me, it means darkness and tiredness." Well. Unfortunately Webster doesn't agree. It actually means worn-out, overused, or tired. (Kind of like his very use of the word in his multiple poems). He completely discredited himself (at least to me), by misusing the word. I no longer want to read his poetry. It's left uninterprateable if the words mean what he wants them to mean, even if it has nothing to do with their true definition. They don't mean whatever you want them to. That's all there is to it. (Some words can have connotations, I realize. I'm not arguing against the poetic use of words. but when they're used, they can include the connotation and still be true to their meaning).

Charlie Peacock is a really fantastic person. He recently wrote a book called "New Way to Be Human". In his introduction, he spoke of a college student who was tired and found that the things he ewas being taught were tired and seemed useless. He completed his complaining by saying, "Words just don't mean anything anymore." Charlie replied (regretfully) "In that case I have no idea what you just said." But then he expounded, and said that words are all we have. Words must mean something, or we have no hope of conveying truth. We have no other way to tell our stories. And if words begin to mean "whatever we want them to" then our stories lose their validity, for they are interpreted carelessly with with the listeners own experience and feelings attached. I, for one, don't want that to happen.

writing muse

I'm discovering that my writing is half way between discouragment and inspiration. I left the conference with some new ideas and good advice. But having talked with real published people, I also left feeling like everything I've written is inadaquet. The problem is I really love the things I've written. but now I feel like they need to be revamped (and they do in order for an editor to consider it), and I don't have the energy or knowledge to do it right. I can't make words work right now. And that frustrates me so much.

And I guess that's all I have to say right now.

Random Thoughts

I've decided that I don't like reading the blogs that are "devotional" style, where people type out a scripture and talk about what it means to them. Or what they've learned. I don't like the tone they take, mostly. And if I wanted a devotional, i'd read Guideposts. Some people make good application of scripture without taking on that annoying teacher tone. And I guess those are betr than nothing. But I don't like them, that's all.

My husband's grandpa died today. He's really upset about it, and that makes me upset. So far, no one I've known very well has passed away. So I haven't really struggled with the feelings that you have when that happens. It's hard to watch people suffer. And it's hard to see that they get heaven before we do. But I havve a hard time sympatising. I hate that i can't, though.

Uh... I hate how you go out and experience something great (likea writing conference), and then you come home and regular life seems worse than ever. Maybe it's just the contrast of great living, and normal living. But sometimes I think that bad things happen intentionally to make me grounded again. I don't know. But I wish I cou;d have stayed in Colorado a couple extra days and blocked reality from my mind for just a little longer. It's nice to be able to do that.

I don't have anything else to say.

Lifechanging Bill

In the forth grade, we had a Pioneer Girls sleepover. We watched all of the McGee and Me shows that exsisted. I stayed up "all night" with Rory and enjoyed the movies that taught us how to make good choices and how the Bible applied to life.

When I was in junior high, I read some books called "Journeys to Fayrah" (now the Imager Chronicles). It was a fantasy series about an awkward twelve-year-old girl who accidently gets taken to another dimention and a land called Fayrah, where she learns about someone named Imager who loves her and has a plan for her life, fights against the Illusionist, and then battles within the world to discover truth and understand the mysteries of Imager's ways.

In high school, after leaving a church whose ways were edging toward New Age, I read through a series of books called "Forbidden Doors" where two teenagers engage in Spiritual Warfare and learn that the powers of darkness are not as unreal and powerless as we thought. But at the same time, there is a greater Power that is able to defeat it.

All three of those media experiences changed my life, primarily by changing my perception of God or helping to expand it. They were comforting characters I related with on a deep level. All three of them, Bill Myers was responsible for. Out of the imagination of this hulking, six-foot-four man with a portruding chin and mischevious smile came McGee, Denise, Listro Q, Fayrah Wally McDoogle, and Forbidden Doors.

And I sat at his table and talked with him this weekend. It was probably the highlight of my writing life, certainly the highlight of the year for me. It was something that I'd wanted to do for a long time. I waited all weekend to elbow my way through the crowds of people who filled the lobby a half hour before dinner, hoping to stake a table with an editor or writer. I watched while others filled the spots of the table I wanted, laughed and chatted. It was me last night. I got that table. (and on top of sitting there with my favorite author, I also got to sit right next to Frank Peretti).

Some day, I want to be responsible for lifechange like that. For showing teenagers who are insecure and unsure of themselves and their faith that GOd is active, real and wonderful. And maybe, if I'm fortunate and blessed, someone will sit at my table at a writing conference and say what I got to say to Mr. Myers last night: "Your books changed my life."

Standing with Doubters

There are things in every religion that don't add up. i could start listing them, but I think I'd just depress myself. While everyone would like to think that their religion is ultimate truth and everything fits together, I'm not so sure that it does. I think that might be part of what makes it religion. It's founded on Supernatural. And because it usually involves some supreme being, there are things that we are not to understand about that being.

Enter God. Christianity. I'd like to tell everyone that my faith is perfect, that the set of values I've established are unshakable and perfect. That they all line up, and when you think hard enough they make sense. But I don't think they do. And I think I'm OK with that. It's strange. I've met a lot of people who doubt their faith, who question it frequently. and I think we all go through phases like that. IT's a scary place to be, when you start wondering if the foundation for your life is suddenly not as true as you once thought it was. You don't know who to turn to, and you don't know how to resolve it. Some people give up. some people change their thinking.

And some choose to believe despite it all. Despite doubts and trials and questions. I guess that's what makes it "faith" instead of "religion", really. Because I can reject religion easily. I don't like establishments. But faith, the relationship I have with God and the trust I put in Him and His word, is something that doesn't go away so easily.

So I stand among the doubters with my hands reached toward heaven, hoping that it's true. Believing that it's true despite my intellect and feelings. And I hope that those who doubt come to the same conclusion I have. Because in the end, it's harder to believe than not to. And I think it's better to take my chances with the claims of ultimate truth and absolutes.

My Limitless God

I just finished listening to the 2005 report from Gospel for Asia. It was amazing. Beyond amazing. More than anything I could even explain. It opened my eyes to the fantastic abilities of God. We don't see them here in the US. We've limited Him, and we've civilized Him. But He is on the move with or without our help. Especially in Asia. It's easy for me to say GFA is so awesome, but hearing the founder talk about God and His work through GFA leaves you only wanting to be a part of what God is doing.

I wish that I weren't so civilized in my Christian thinking. I want to revolt and be the barbarian Erwin Mcmanus describes in "The Barbarian Way". I want to stand with my limitless God and work in His unrefined, unexpected ways. I want to experience His power--the hope of the nations, the grace that accepts and loves and the mercy that saves. I want to be His barbarian and walk the unmarked territory.

Check out GFA on my provided link. It is well-worth your time and investment.

Purposes

I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.

But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?

I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?

I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. Assuming that my motive is the same as His, which isn't always the case.

I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes we understand the general purpose, but He has specific ones in mind. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.

Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.

What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it. I don't know what fruit they bear, and I don't need to, so long as I know God is working in them.


Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005

We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

The Gift to the World

I've been thinking about my poetry and how it seems, the ones I really love and feel speak the most of me, are the ones others don't appreciate as much. I'm the kind of personality that doesn't really care about that so much; I'd rather just enjoy writing and express myself.

But it got me thinking about art and music and other forms of expression. And that led to thoughts about motives in general. Why do we do what we do? And more importantly, are those reasons ones that benefit God? Do they even benefit us?

I oten wonder if what I write will help others. I'd like for it to be true. I'd like the things I put on paper to be meaningful, thought-provoking, and life-changing. I suppose all writers have that desire to some extent. But what would happen if that never happened? What if those who read my writing thought it was stupid, or mundane or found themselves indifferent? Would it matter? should it matter?

I think it does (and should) sometimes, but not for the reasons that we would typically site. More because if my work is unnoticed and unappreciated, then my calling would not be being fulfilled. I would not be writing as well as I should be if that is what God has called me to do. WHat I'm trying to say is that if He created me to be one thing and that is truly my desire, He should use it for what He has purposed. (Assuming that my motive is the same as His).

I wonder about ministry too. What if nothing comes of it? What if my purpose in ministry is salvation of others, but that never happens? I've been thinking about this, and have concluded that our purposes, although they may be pure, may not be the same purposes God has in calling us forth. I know people who would say that, if we aren't in it for the same purpose as God, we aren't following Him or listening to Him like we should be. But why would we have to understand His purpose, as long as we're doing it? That's my question. Maybe sometimes it isn't always clear. and maybe if it were, it would scare us and we wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Maybe in His soverignty, there's room for us to "mess up" what we thought we were doing, but hit God's purpose square on the head.

Like the prophet Jeremiah. I wonder if he ever wondered why things didn't go like they were supposed to. I wonder if he questioned his purposes and God's. I wonder if what he thought he was doing was different than what he actually was.

What it comes down to for me is showing God. Displaying His beauty to the world in whatever ways He created me to do that. Singing, poetry, ministry. They "add to the beauty" as Sara Groves puts it.


Add To the Beauty by Sara Groves 2005

We come with beautiful secrets
We come with purposes written on our hearts,
written on our souls
We come to every new morning
With possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

It comes in small inspirations
It brings redemption to life and work
To our lives and our work
It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
This is grace, an invitation

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out our best
And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside

The Overwhelming Hope of Tomorrow

Tonight I feel like things just aren't going well. MOnday was awesome. I had a great day. I felt good about everything. And it was a good dya, so I had no reason not to feel good. Today, there was something heavy nagging at me most of the day. I can't explain it. A spiritual battle, perhaps. Younglife tonight was fine for me. Everyone else thought it wasn't great, and feels like there are major problems with it.

But the problem with ministry and with working with people in general is that there really isn't a set formula that you can do once and it works forever. No. And especially with youth, there are changing needs, changing lives, and changing relationships. You can't set up a perfect system. I guess there are those who would disagree with me. But the real question is, what are the things that you must do in order for the ministry to be successful (in GOd's eyes)? The obvious answers are prayer and the Bible, and letting the SPiirt lead... but the lines of where that ends and human interaction begins are so hazy. It causes me to wonder if there is a "best" way to do something like ministry? OR if we have to rely on the trial-and-error method? Can we trust that God uses everything for HIs glory? Can we believe that even the things we thought were wrong, were good?
Only when we can know that the things we thought were wrong were still HIs will that we did. And I don't know that I'm at a place where I am seeking HIm enough to be able to say that for certain.

So tonight I'm hoping for tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I'm going to work. And it's going to be fulfilling. And I will walk away and feel like I've done something useful. Eternal, even.
And tomorrow in the figurative sense, I will be in heaven with Jesus and the questions of ministry and perfection and life will no longer be questions.

The Familiar Place

It's not an unusual place for me
when the lost is so familiar
and trying harder leaves me emptier.
But through the blackness
He beckons
calling like the sea
to bring in the tide
like a lover searching
for his bride.
And to be found is to know a splendor
only seen in the dark times
--of restoration and perserverence
to have a hand to hold across the miles
of wasted time and untended paths
to be brought from the familiar place
into the hope of glory
joy of the crown
and greater knowledge of grace.

And then things took a terrible plunge toward mundane...

I guess the title mostly speaks for itself. I think that I need to ask God to put life into my daily activities so it doesn't feel so... boring and routine yet overwhelming at the same time.

Breathe on me, breathe o breath of God
Breathe on me till my heart is new
Breathe on me, breath o breath of God
breath on me till I'm resting in you.

And the Joy...

Today I'm feeling discouraged. I don't even have a really good reason to. I think that a lot of it has to do with being a little disappointed. I know it doesn't matter, but today at work, I saw some of the teachers taking home boxes of gifts from their kids and parents, but I had four. It isn't important, but it makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong that the parents dont like me.
Daniel didn't have to work tomorrow, but now I think he's going to be driving up to Minnesota to fix Nathan's car. That wasn't exactly what I'd planned on having this week look like, and we were just there this weekend.
And besides that, there's something about a discouraged Nathan that bothers me. I'm used to it, actually. I spent a couple of years being his friend when he was sure no one liked him after his fiancee ditched him. But I don't like it when the stable people in my life need help.
I can't find gifts for some people who I really wanted to get something cool for. And it's stupid, but it makes me feel like a failure of a friend. I can't decide what to get for my best friend. We spend hours together every week, but I can't find a single thing she'd like. And I feel like what I decide to give to people is inferior to what everyone else gives.
... that might have to do with the fact that my older brother is planning to give everyone gifts that are more than a hundred dollars.
Today it just feels like a kind of joy I usually have has been drained from me. Maybe it's my fault for caring about things I don't need to. Or maybe Maybe I'm just tired out and don't want to handle life right now. That might be it. I'm excited for Christmas, but it feels like things aren't going to slow down long enough to enjoy it. I'm s ure they will, though. They always do.

A Hard Time we Had of It.

I've been reading a lot of poetry lately, and came across this about a month ago. It was just so cool that I want to share it. It being Christmas and all.

Journey of the Magi By TS Eliot

'A cold coming we had of it
just the worst time of year
For a journey and such a long journey
The ways deep and the weather sharp
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory
Lying down in the melting snow
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces
And the silken girls bringing sherbt.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women
And And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had for it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night, sleeping in snatches
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse gallopped away in the meadow
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver
And feet kicking the empty wine skins.
But there was no information, so we cotinued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place, it was (young men say) satisfactory

All this was a long time ago, I remember
And I would do it again but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death
But had thought they were different; this birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
WE returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Comment

Does it bother anyone else that it says "Comments" at the bottom of the page, even if there's one? Because that really bugs me.

Do Unto Others...

Thursday it snowed for about twelve straight hours. It was cool, and I was happy about it, but I was afraid to say so because everyone seemed so annoyed. I decided while driving to work that when I got off, I'd scrape the windows on everyone's car. I did mine first, and let it run while I went on to the next one. At that time, there were only two other people left at work. So I started scraping Kelly Jo's car. I like Kelly Jo. Everyone does. She's nice and kind and doesn't really gossip much. It was easy to scrape her car, too, because she had only been at work for three hours.
Melissa is the manager in the afternoon. While I was scraping Kelly Jo's car, she came out and said, "Kristin, do mine too." She tells people when she's trying to ask, that's how she is. So I said I'd planned to, and I went off to do hers. She'd been parked there all day, and there was a lot of ice on her car. But I did it anywya, because it was too late to turn around and not do it, especially after she'd seen me scraping Kelly Jo's.
But it got me to thinking about service, and how hard it can be to do onto others as you'd have them do onto you. especially when they're telling you to do it. And their life is such a bigger mess than everyone else's. And they aren't very gracious when you do finally do things to help them. I wish that some how, those people wouldn't count, and I could just help the nice people. After all, if I were being a jerk, I'd want someone to show me that I was being a jerk. That's doing onto others as I'd have them do onto me... but something tells me it doesn't work that way. It probably has more to do with Love your neighbor as yourself, and "Let this mind be in you that was also in christ Jesus who... became nothing, taking the form of a servant and humbling himself to the point of death." That's a lot more weighty than scraping people's cars off. And I think that it will be a long process for me to discover how fulfilling serving the jerks of the world can be.

The Bluffs

Along the river is a road
cut into the ground
And high up on those man-made bluffs
are houses buried behind
the mountain-like timber
oaks and poplar; clouds of bushes hide
the crouching dominions for half the year
and possessed by the joy of privacy
or perhaps a hidden fear
of one of the driversby
catching a glimpse
of their neglected front
the peeling paint or overgrown lawns
these houses stayed veiled
until comes autumn
with then growing winds and faded sun
cause the carefully constructed curtain of foliage to fall
and the bare trees are windows to these homes' bluffs
whose glory or grotesqueness are disguised.

Taking Lives

Why do there always have to be people in our lives who take more than we can give, who need more than they can express, and who drain us of all of our resources? It's not like I have much to give that anyone else would need, but for some reason, it seems like, since about the time I became uncool and unneeded, there have been people like that who jump into my life and take.

Raven used to call me every night and talk for two hours on the phone about the guys she thought she loved, the way she was treated by them, her family, TV shows, and anything else that came to mind. One time she called me and told me she wanted to kill herself, and all I did, as a very unwise eighth grader, was listen to her talk and tell her that I'd pray for her.

Karen was the kind of girl who tricked herself to think she was friends with popular people and would get crushed every time they blew her off or she realized that they didn't like her at all. She'd sit by me in math class and ask for help all the time, and even though I always knew the answers, she scored better than me on all of my math tests. She'd always run to me when her feelings got hurt, but it was kind of hard to be supportive when she blew me off to try and be popular.

Kelli is lonely. She grew up in a family of six kids, but now she lives by herself and works a part-time job. She called me today just to talk. And I wanted to eat my peanut-butter sandwich and finish getting ready for work. I only had an hour at home, and she used up half of it. And she wants to hang out some time.

Then there are the scores of lonely, hurt, popularity-seeking teenagers who walk into my life and beg for attention. And the four-year-olds who can't stop asking for hugs and tapping my shoulder to interrupt my conversations with co-workers. And the fourteen other Kellis, Ravens, and Karents that will at some point be part of my life and want--need attention and care that I just might not be able to give.

But I seem to remember something about His power being made perfect in our weaknesses, and a promise to carry my burdens. Because He cares for me. And I guess, if caring for people reflects Him, I should still do it even when it wears me out and drives me crazy, and even when the people who take can't give back.

The Community

I just got home from church, and I feel really good. It was the first service in quite a while that was exactly what I wanted/needed. First thing that happened was I couldn't find a parking spot. It irritated me, but it made me glad too.
Then I was early (intentionally) so I bought a donut and sat in the gym at a table with this random girl. I didn't know who she was, but we got to talking. She's new to the church, so I sat wtih her at service. IT reminded me of how I like doing that, how my weakness in ability to make conversation is totally compensated for by Daniel, who can talk to any random person for an hour, and how grateful people are that I do it even when I don't have anything to talk about.

Service was awesome. I realized while the choir was singing that one thing I love about my church is that they are able to worship in so many different ways. They aren't stuck to bluehair on the organ, or five-piece band rocking out, or choir, or whatever. They do it differently every week, and every week, I watch people lift their hands and sing and shout and truly worship. It's still pretty reserved, but it's worship. Today was no different, except for the reserved part. They were singing a Brooklyn Tab song that was kind of soulful. First the black lady from the worship team stood at the front of the sanctuary, and before the end of the song, a good third of the people were satnding, swaying and singing. It was good times. By the time the congregation joined for singing, we were all ready to worship. It was just reallyl cool.

The other thing I realized that I like about my church is how grace-oriented, but evangelisticlly minded they are. It's an incredible blend that works so well. Mixed with the overlaying emphasis on servant leadership, they do an awesome job of discipling and equipping people from every place in their Christian walk. I know that sounds vague, but if I went into examples, I would talk forever.

I was getting kind of tired of the sermons and some other things at church, but today reminded me of how beautiful of a place it is. And then the sermon was about teaming up for evangelism, how we are part of the big Church of the world, and we rely on one another and on God to get the work done. He preached over a passage that has forever confused me (Luke 10, which is about the same as Matthew 10), and it started to make a little more sense.

Anyway, I just wanted to share my excitement. I know this was poorly written, but I was too happy to concern myself with that.

Disquieted

Disquieted

There’s a disquieted feeling
when I think about you that night
remember you walking away
uneasy smile and nonchalant goodbye
as if everything was OK
Something inside of you worried,
parts of your life that made you afraid
Things hidden under the eyeliner and set jawpain
bigger than the things we talk about
I wonder if you could tell I saw
or if I pretended too well, played along with your game
while you were crying out and hoping inside
and I was waiting until it was too late.
My mind fills with suggestions
when I think of you that night
remember you walking away
Your relieved expression
like a dog unlocked from its cage.
and me, wishing I could say more or do something to help
becuase I know everything was not OK
and you’re just as disquietedas my spirit was when we met

Confession of my secret love for the blogging community

Is it a guilty pleasure? To be ennamoured with the personal thoughts of people who normally don't have a chance to share their personal thoughts? To want to know what "celebs" think about every day life, love and godliness? To sit for an hour a day and read through the insights, feelings and thoughts they've decided to share with the world(wide web)?

I love blogging. I don't like writing them as much as I like reading them, and my favorite part about blogging is that you can leave comments. It's like an interactive magazine with all of your favorite people! It's wonderful. It makes me so happy.

Yesterday I was thinking about Shaun Groves' blog, and wishing that more of my favorite artists had one. Then I found Chris Rice's! Yay. I suppose it's a small pleasure, and it really doesn't matter to anyone else, but I'm finding a certain element of my personal growth in blogging, the intelligent discussion from the standpoint of respected (and disrespected) people. It's great. Everyone should have one, and everyone should say more than "I ate tacos for supper. Then I got sick. And Joey's going out with Becky and I'm soooo jealous." Or whatever. I guess there's a place for those kinds of entries too, but, like conversations, they really don't take you very far.

Tedious Living

Last night I was driving to work and I realized that writing is my primary method of handling stress. I started writing again this week, so it got me thinking, wondering if I was actually stressed right now, because it often doesn't feel like I am, even though I am. I don't know if that makes sense, but it takes me a while to figure out why I get symptoms of stress. So in that fifteen minute drive, I thought things through. I'm stressed. Not by anything big like job-loss or sickness, but the little things that are supposed to be in place in life, the things that cause a person to be secure, aren't all secure right now.

There are too many things to list, and I won't list, lest you lose interest (tribute to bad poetry).

Like I said, it isn't a lot of stuff that directly affects me. It's stuff like my mom having knee surgery and making me realize that our bodies are tired and weak, and you only get one chance to do it right. And my brother and sister-in-law getting accepted to be missionaries in Kazakstan and planning to leave within two years. And my husbands grandparents who are experiencing the final phases of their lives on earth. And my best friend probably won't be single forever and have lots of time to invest in friendship with me. And other inconsistancies that shake my sense of security.

I don't feel hopeless or lost. I guess I just feel kind of... tired. There's always good that can spring out of bad, and even if there isn't, there's hope and belief in the goodness of God to carry and sustain. But times like this make life feel tedious. And that's when I wonder what I'm doing wrong.

Disney Has Some Explaining to Do

I think as good, honest hard-working american citizens, we need to boycott Disney. Today. They are discriminatory biggots who give no regard to consistent thinking. Here's my reasoning:

Why should one dog get to be personified as a regular, doofy guy who tries hard but fails, and still ultimately ends up in a better situation, while one dog has to crawl around on the ground and be subserviant to of all things, a MOUSE, while yet another gruop of dogs are portrayed as good-natured criminals who cheat, lie and steal? Are not all dogs created equally? In real life, dogs are all like Pluto. They don't raise kids, rival with their neighbors over who has a better, bigger house, create elaborate schemes to steal money from talking ducks, or play sports (with the exception of frisbee).

So I am calling on all of you who live within the peramiters of reality to notify Disney of your decision to boycott their ridiculous portrayals of kid, loyal animals. Tell them to give equal rights to all dogs, beagle, terrior, hound, or whatever he may be. It's time for this foolishness to stop, and it begins with you.

If we don't do something before it's too late, Disney will be personifying their select versions of cats, birds, horses, even pidgeons, while leaving others of the same species to play menial roles, crawling on the ground, begging for food, and causing trouble. It isn't fair. It isn't right. Let's change this while we can.

Fire

I wanted to write an entry so I could use this picture I took at our fire last night. I decided not to write an entry, but just to allow everyone to enjoy the fire that I enjoyed. It was warm and big.

Life is good today. I got started on the next book in my "series" I'm writing. I wasn't in a hurry to write it, becausae my character Laurel is finally grduating from high school, and I feel about as ready as she is for her to leave for college. But it's OK now. I have my second wind with this story, and it's starting to fall into place, even though I'm only on page seven.

The Paradox of Humility

Humility is almost a paradoxal acheivement. Once you've reached that point, you can't even admit it to yourself or you risk arousing pride again. Ben Franklin put it nicely in his autobiography: "In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you will see it, poerhaps, often, in this history; for, even if I could conceive that I had completely overome it, I would probably be proud of my humility."

We are all guilty of depricating ourselves in an effort to be, or at least appear, humble. I never used to think a lot of it, but recently I noticed that a spiritual leader who I respect a lot, who carries insight and wisdom beyond his years, is frequently downplaying his thoughts and making himself look less respectable. I don't know what his motives for that are. Maybe he really does have low self-esteem. Maybe it's just because that's what he considers an accurate perception of himself. Maybe it is. I don't know him well enough to judge that, but it got me to thinking about myself.

I've always thought that I didn't have a lot to offer the rest of the world. I find myself getting depressed over the way people think about me, and how I preform. In high school, I would share these frustrations with a good friend and he was constantly syaing to me, "Stop depricating yourself!" I didn't really even know what it meant, and I certainly didn't know why he was telling me not to say something that was, to me, true. Now that I'm older and have been in his position, I think I understand a little bit of where he was coming from. He was my friend. He liked me as I was, and it sort of made him sad when I would downplay the gifts I had, talk poorly about myself, and compair myself to others. In a way I was telling him that I wasn't worth it to him, but he knew that wasn't true. Sometimes now, when I hear people I like or respect saying stuff like, "I'm going to say this but it doesn't mean much because it's coming from me" or "This is reading for those of you who are bored enough to actually bother with me", I want to stop them and say "Who is it who decides that?" It isn't always the writer that determines how useful his writing is. When people say things like that, it discredits them and causes others to miss out on opportunities to learn and be encouraged. If they don't value their own opinion, how can anyone value it?

It's not that you have to run around with absolute certainty on every statement you make/everything you do. That tends to annoy people, especially when you aren't always right but insist that you are in your demeanor. But when I say that, I leave the reader at a standstill because either way, it seems, you fail. Either you say what you think and devalue it in an effort to not sound like a know-it-all, or you sound like a know-it-all when you aren't. But there's a happy medium. I think I'd call it confidence.

This is starting to sound a lot like something Joel Oelstien would write, which wasn't my intention. I guess the point I'm trying to boil these scattered thoughts into is that there is such a thing as true humility, but it really has little to do with the way men view you, or the way you view yourself compaired to others. When I said it isn't the writer who determines how useful their writing is, I could have said that "It isn't the beholder who determines how beautiful a thing is; it's the creator."

True humility comes in understanding where you stand with God. Not in an "I am a worm" mentality, nor in an "God saved me so what's wrong with you?" one. Understanding where we are in light of God's judgement and mercy makes it possible to be humble. When we realize that we are wretched people who need to be saved, and know that we are living under the same grace as any other, it is easier for us to reflect the attitude of Christ. Therefore it is not self-confidence that we need, but salvation-confidence. Not self-deprication, but self-understanding.

So, preacher who I respect a lot, stop putting yourself down just because you know that your opinion isn't worth the weight of the world. And I'll do my best to set an example for those who look up to me too.

Media Manipulatives

The last thing any of us need is another person to tell us what to do. Everywhere we go in life, there seem to be bushels of unsolicited advice coming from everywhere and everyone--from your mother to your car, to your hairstylist or mechanic and everyone in between. We can get annoyed with these people, and we can shut them out. But there is another major source of opinions that we do not always recognize. It comes in the form of newspapers and magazines and film. Sometimes it comes out of the box you've set as the centerpiece for your living room motif, and sometimes it shouts at you from the grocery line. What I'm wondering is if people realize how much they are manipulated by the overload of media in our society?

Some days I wish it would all go away. Like out of sight out of mind. News travels fast through phones and letters these days; we would eventually hear what we needed to hear, form our own opinions, and discuss it with each other as respectable adults. But alas, the days of ignorance are over. Now, any politician so much as sneezes the wrong way and we hear about it for three weeks! It's ridiculous the way we feel like it's our right to know every nuaunce of information that passes through the hands of our society.

I'm not trying say that we should eliminate all news and advertizing from our lives. but being aware of how we are affected by them would be the first step in fixing what I consider to be a problem in our society. Why should three guys sitting in an office at a computer be able to dictate what we think about a natural disaster? Why does one guy whose scripts are written for him, get the credit of being a great commentator?

Now I realize that you'd argue that you aren't affected by tehse people, and that you form your own opinions on things. But how are you to even know what opinion to form when the very presentation of the news is tainted with media bias? Please don't fool yourself. We are all maneuvered by words. We live in a wordy society where stories and words change lives and attitudes. If your wife saying, "I love you," affects you before you leave for work, then Ted Coppel and Connie Chung can sure as heck affect your thinking too.

I don't know. I just get annoyed with people who think their opinion should be valued more than anyone else's, when it's something that they are equally as ignorant about. An expect or someone with good credentials may be worth listening to more.

Tonight I'm just feeling like there's no way to really know exactly what has happened in our country, let alone the rest of the world, because people seem to have an agenda with everything they do. Maybe it's unavoidable. But maybe people should do what they can to get all of the information they can before forming such vehement conclusions. And maybe I'm being too idealistic.

Raking Inventions and other conspiracies

Thinking about conspiracies lately has gotten me into some strange thought patterns that I'd like to share. I am a friend of some conspiracy theorists, even related to many, and there is some kind of draw to that underground information in my brain and personality. It makes me want to believe it because it's counter to what the rest of the world is thyinking, and it challenges the status quo. Those are things I enjoy usually. But fret not. I have not jumped off the deep end yet.

I have decided that most of the things that happen in our lives that we don't agree with are the result of conspiracies. And conspiracies lead to more conspiracies. Let's take raking, for example. It's a conspiracy by s ome old people who wanted to hold off winter as long as possible. Their thinking is that if their yards still look like summer, then maybe everything else will follow suit. I don't think it worked, but look at all of the money gardening companies can make on poor saps who feel obligatedt o stand in their yard for three hours a week tediously piling up a carpet of leaves that were meant to fall and fertalize their grass. Now not only do they have to pay to go to a chiropractor, they also have to pay another company to come in and fertalize their lawns.
Someone took advantage of these folks' desire for warm weather. Maybe even more than one.

Here's another example (one I've been considering for quite some time): Flu vaccinations. We've gone for years having influenzia as a part of the winter season. Pepole get it, go to the doctor, get lots of sleep, vomit too many times to count, drink lots of fluids and it passes. All the sudden someone finds it necessary to invent a vaccination for the simple means of eliminating a small inconvinience. (I know, there's someone out there whose grandma died of influenzia, and I'm not downplaying that. There is a place for vaccinations.) But what I'm saying is that every Will, Joe and Harry don't need to go out and pay for a vaccination for a disease that they never had before and probably wouldn't have gotten anyway. It happened suddenly, covertly, and it's hard to get explanations out of people who should know more. That suggests conspiracy. Someone out there wanted to make money for a vaccination, so they some how convinced us that we need this drug shot into our veins. Five years ago, I don't remember anyone worrying about it. Am I crazy, or is there some kind of latent brainwashing happening disguised as "concern for health"?

And this strange and sudden influx of worry about the bird flu. What's up with that? I'm no MD, and I really don't have the first clue about these kinds of things, but have there been any cases of it yet, or is it just some kind of FDA-induced hysteria making people think they need the vaccination?

I didn't see a lot of credible information from either end. But I don't exactly trust the FDA or any of the other loonies that come up with these mass disease scares. Call me unwise, but I'm going to go and get a needless shot to prevent something that *might* happen, especially when they're cranking those things out like they do with such unproven tests and so little time to see if they're actually effective.

After reading a little from both ends of the discussion on whether or not to worry about the Avian flu, I've decided that it too is a giant conspiracy that even the crackpots on the internet haven't yet detected. I mean, what if the so-called vaccination is a couple of benign chemicals designed to do nothing but pull from our pocketbooks in order to fund the research and testing of other drugs? Or, worse yet, what if the "innoculation" has some other kind of checmical? One released only under certain circumstances? Some kind of mind-altering drug that, when combined with some airborne pathogen, causes people to act in a certian way favorable to the conspirators' plan. Maybe I just watch too many sci-fi, super hero movies. But it's something to wonder about, really. Is it possible for beurocrats to actually be concerned about our wellbeing?

You've gotta love these conspiracy theorists. It's too bad they're so far off the deep end. I wish one or two of them would look into finding out just exactly why the "government (fda)" is pushing for so many vaccinations, ignoring the potential side effects and strange results. I think that there's a great conspiracy in that alone, but what would I know. I'm just a kid at a computer with a big imagination.