John Sanders, Greg Boyd & My little brother

So my little brother got a digital camera for Christmas (the sly devil). That's really all this post has to do with him, but I enjoyed the picture. It's time to enjoy family when there really is little else favorable going on.

So, Huntington College (my alma mater, may also fall into the sly devil category though with a different bent) has gone public with their shamelessness. They are kicking Sandy out on his ear. I'm talking about John Sanders, proponent of Open Theism, professor of theology and philosophy at Huntington, a man I feel blessed to know. A man who was also nearly canned by the ETS last year. But he wasn't. We thought that was the end of it, but it wasn't. I personally believe this is one of the worst steps the college could take. Those who are threatened by views other than their own are not living in the life and light that Christ has called us to, that Huntington College seeks to promote. The mantra of the college, even engraved on a little necklace with my graduation year, are the words of Jesus- "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." Those who are responsible for this move are proving themselves against academic and spiritual freedom, and choosing fear, which is alien to a life in Christ. I don't have that much more to say on the subject, just that I grieve with the hammering of one more nail into the coffin of the college I loved.

On a note with Greg Boyd, there always seems to be something familiar in the realm of the new. When I was working at a Starbucks downtown several weeks ago, I sat in the 4am cold with a girl named Jessi, who told me she was a Christian and had served in YWAM for several years. She then cautiously asked me if I knew who Gregory Boyd was. I laughed for a long, long time.

Unexpected goodness

Browsing around this afternoon online at C&T Zone, I enjoyed a few laughs of agreement and solidarity at the posts of some of my friends, Jonny Rice and those collectively known as Midwest Mindset. I won't try to steal their thunder, but definitely check out the latter for opinions on the latest James Dobson fracas.

I also found myself inadvertently and silently babysitting 3 little black kids, two boys and a girl all under 8, who were left with me and Jung, the guy who runs the coffeeshop. Their mother came in and then left them here alone for probably about a half an hour. They inched closer and closer to me, until we were all sitting around one small table. They kept talking to each other, but looked at me, and I would wink back at them. We never said anything to each other, but there was an identification that we were in this together, at least temporarily. Jung looked at stuff on ebay and I looked at blogs and pictures of Auschwitz.

Sometimes just being together with other people, being close and being stared at without anything intrusive, just interest, from the eyes of a child can be the most wonderful thing in the world. In what can seem like the darkest hour, when the opposition on every front seems almost greater than what can be born, there is a peace and a relaxation. And the song that you have been singing all day, in the shower even, comes over the radio and everything is all right.
Send me up to the Spirit in the Sky, that's where I'm gonna go when I die- when I die and they lay me to rest, I'm gonna go to the place that's the best. Fade out over tambourines and electric guitar solo into black.

Boycotts

Now, I’m not making love to anyone’s wishes
Only for the God I see
‘Cause when I’m dead and laid low in my grave
That’s going to be the only Thing that’s left for me

And if I make it to the waterside, will I even find me a boat, or no?
And if I make it to the waterside, I’ll be sure to write you a note or something…

Oh, I’m on my way, I know I am; somewhere not so far from here
All I know is all I feel right now, I feel the power growing in my hair.

-Cat Stevens, a.k.a. Yusuf Islam, currently denied entrance to the United States by the US Government under the Patriot Act for having ties to Muslim organizations suspected of aiding terrorism.

*******

So I decided tonight on my way home from C&T Zone, while staring at a Bush/Cheney 2004 sticker on the back of an Expedition, that I’m against boycotting things. [I know this doesn’t have anything to do with the Expedition, but stay with me here.] The problem I see with boycotts is this- nobody really cares, usually, unless you’re a mom & pop type of place with only about 20 patrons anyway, and they all turn against you for using Canadian beef or something. When you lose all of your money, then you care that Mad Cow Disease isn’t that popular as a side dish. Places like Wal-Mart or Starbucks, however, are simply too big to feel the effects. And it seems to me that if we boycott, say, Wal-Mart for being connected to the pornography industry because certain magazines it sells are owned by the same parent companies that produce pornographic magazines, we are pushing the envelope a bit.

What are we trying to say with such boycotts? That we are going to financially punish these sinners until they finally cave? That at that point in time, they will run to us, bankruptcy notes in their hands, seeking salvation and looking to buy an overpriced Bible or Prayer of Jabez devotional book? What is the point of beating people into the ground with the knowledge of their own immorality? I remember Jesus saying something about sin and stones, and a bunch of overzealous hypocrites had to walk away on embarrassed legs. The thing is, we don’t boycott ordinary people. [Maybe we do- we create our own clubs and societies because we need to exclude ourselves from sinners… hmm…] What makes people in the pornography industry worse sinners than Billy Bones, living next door, in his respectable 9-5 job with his respectable family, that you have neighborhood barbeques with? They are more obvious with their sin. But aren’t these the very ones we are supposed to have neighborhood barbeques with? Jesus did. He ate with the sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes. Yep, the prostitutes. Eating back then was not as it is now- everyone Biggie sizes their double quarter McWhopper and sits around in the fluorescent-lit feedlot, much as their food did before them. Eating then was an intimate experience. This is why communion takes place with food- Jesus was sharing himself at the meal, he was the meal. Once again, American Evangelicals who do things like promote boycotts against certain companies fall into their own trap of ridiculousness.

So, I think for continuity’s sake, I’m going to just say no to boycotts. Which, I guess, means I’m boycotting them. If you don’t want to support pornography, don’t buy it. Which I’m guessing isn’t the case, as the last statistic I read claimed as much as 40% of pastors in America have problems with pornography, particularly on the internet. Let’s not be pharisaical here, is what I’m saying. As John 7:24 says, let’s stop judging on mere appearances, and make a right judgment. If you want to stop shopping at Wal-Mart or Starbucks because they crush the little man despite being among Fortune’s 100 Best Companies to Work For, then I’m right behind you. But put a little thought into what you do; everyone will be better off for it.

Now here's a good idea

Mega-churches: the thorn in my non-evangelical side. And who are these laughing people, anyway? I bet you 3 lattes from the "Bread of Life Cafe" in the south narthex that they don't even attend here. Hey, at least they're paid to be fake.


Thoughts of the day-
Perhaps I have been asking the wrong question. Who am I supposed to be? not What am I supposed to do?

This modern era of internet and sexual equality and mobility leads me to believe that with the large-scale tragedies we have faced recently, we may also be just getting to the cusp of what life is all about, who God created us to be. We may be able to discover new depths of spirituality, unencumbered by restrictions formerly imposed. But with great blessing may come great responsibility.

Today a man came into my Starbucks in the Springs and told me about his mega-church of 10,000 over on the North-East side of town. I almost visibly shuddered when he began mentioning numbers, and nearly laughed out loud when he (no joke) handed me a half-inch thick book, filled cover to cover with winter 2005 small groups. Yes, you just read that last sentence correctly- it's a small group directory. 1/2 inch. He then proceeded to tell me that they all homeschool their kids because it's unbiblical, and that public schools are a tool of the devil. I felt like calling Kent Hovind and yelling in the phone, Paco Michelson style, "BOOYAH, *censored*!"
He also told me that they segregate themselves from the world, because biblically, you are not supposed to interact with the world as a born again Christian. (!) He said the Holy Spirit leads you to talk with people, but otherwise, you aren't supposed to go preach on the street corner. Not that I am ever an advocate for the latter, but seriously. I almost choked. It turned out to be one more of those occasions in life when I feel myself despising evangelicals. Those are happening more and more frequently- I think I'm going to start filling out forms that my religion is "other" just so I don't have to associate with mindless WWJD bracelet wearers.

Lastly, and most importantly, today I signed the "We Stand for Peace and Justice" statement. Give it a check out, and consider signing.

Well, that's about it for now. If you haven't lately, give "Talkie Walkie" by Air a good listen. You'll be glad you did.

Things get rolling

So last night was my first class session of many in my massage therapy training. While not particularly nervous entering the evening, as some admitted to being, I was interested to see what would come out of the woodwork. And a great many things did.

One of the more delightful aspects of the evening was a tall, skinny girl that I sat next to, named Shelly. I knew it was a good idea when I saw she was wearing Earth shoes, and drinking out of a Nalgene bottle that proudly proclaimed “Free Tibet” from a well-worn sticker. She turned out to be a nearly-graduated social work student from Walla Walla, Washington, with a quick wit and sharp intellect. Needless to say, as much as I enjoyed sitting next to her, we may quickly prove to be disruptive after a few more sessions.

The majority of people in the class have had deaths in the family or major accidents in the last five years. While this initially surprised me, it made sense; many of these people had been helped through recovery with a team that included physical therapists, doctors, and massage therapists. Those whose parents had died decided they wanted to do something meaningful with their lives. Probably two-thirds of the class is within 5 years of my age in one direction or another, with the rest being in middle age of some variety. Several confessed love of Jesus during the opening arguments where we all got to introduce ourselves. I immediately had everyone say my last name, and then rambled on incoherently about wanting to set up some sort of a co-op. At least everyone knows I’m a little different.

One of the other gems of the evening was a somewhat perky, somewhat frazzled spirit sitting behind and to my right- Jacey. Now she’s a caution, as my old piano teacher Lil would say. She’s been in the Springs almost a year and doesn’t work, doesn’t have any roommates in her 3 bedroom apartment, and doesn’t have any friends. She has a dog, and she’s from Sandusky. [Side note- I always have a special place in my heart who call the land of Cedar Point home. For further information, feel free to contact me for arduously long explanations.] She was a special education teacher for two years, each during which she had a mental breakdown. And I think it made her night that I introduced myself and told her I wanted to be friends. The girl is hilarious. I think in the same way that she might drive 95% percent of the world (and our class) nuts, I find myself amused, in a sort of benevolent way. She seems like someone put her brain in a microwave and then forgot to take it out- just a little over the edge all the way down the line. But she told me at the end of the night that she couldn’t wait to go email her mom and tell her she met me- a compliment I am not often paid. Now that I think of it, I don’t think this has ever been the case. It promises to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Well, my people, I am going to rest my little head in my little bed. Lattes at six, and five comes too early. Life is good, though. Peace on, my brothers and sisters.

****
Sidenote- As I sat posting this in C&T Zone, I was reminded by the oldies station how incredibly powerful the song "The Boxer" is, by Simon & Garfunkel. If you haven't listened to this recently, do it soon, and feel all your cells jump around in a frenzy.

Posting nonsense

Much to my dismay, upon finally being able to get here with rather unreliable wireless internet, I had posted my previous post about 614 times. It seems all of those times when I was continually trying to post before, when I was told "page unable to load," it was actually posting. How cyberspacially embarrasing.

The good news of the day is that Coffee & Tea Zone on N. Tejon has wireless internet that works much better than another unnamed location. And cheaper italian sodas, and plays a radio station that belongs in my dad's car (the Beach Boys, Elvis, the Monkees, back to back). Home in sound and space; the kicker is that they even have boba (otherwise known as bubble) tea, a Taiwanese invention that has cropped up in the US recently. It is made with any sort of tea or milky chai, and includes large, round balls of brown tapioca. Mmmm.

Two nights ago I went to see "House of Flying Daggers," a beautiful Chinese film produced and acted by the same team that put together "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and "Hero." I can't get over how incredibly gorgeous it was, and how chubby, inflexible and European it made me feel. My favorite part was how the daggers themselves were almost boomerang in effect at times, like a precursor to the actual wooden V of down under. I'm glad all the people in charge were women. Though I lack their martial arts expertise or quality of aim with deadly weapons, we at least had that in common. And the fact that we're humans. I recommend everyone seeing this film. Even if just for the Echo game.

I've started reading literature of world religions this week. I began with the Bhagavad Gita, and moved on to the Tao te Ching afterwards- it's amazing the accuracy and newness which with they strike at certain fragments of truth. In the latter, I found myself substituting "Christ" every time it read "the Tao," and found beauty and worship unrivaled only by the Bible itself. I find it hard to believe that God cannot be honored in some way by these beautiful texts. If anyone out there has experience in these books, please leave a comment or email me; I would love to learn more and I find, for the first time in my life, I am teacherless except for my own curiosity.

Take care, all. Remember, naked we came into this world, and naked we will go- everything we have is always a gift, and always temporary.

Something New

Because I have rather limited internet access here in Colorado Springs (known locally simply as “the Springs”), I’m planning on typing up my blog in Word and pasting it in & uploading it later. The interesting thing about this is that the word “blog” is not recognized as a word, and is underlined in red by the internal Microsoft dictionary. A sign of the times, my friends.

I feel that I should give some update to all of the people clamoring to know about my current situation. I stayed in Denver until Sunday the ninth, driving down that morning to attend Fresh Wind Community Church, a plant by the Free Methodist Church that is about the size of TOFMC, my hometown church in Three Oaks, MI. (Which means about 60 regular attenders). The pastor tossed me a set of keys after the service which belonged to my totally swank studio apartment. Imagine a bright but dark green, and you will envision my carpet color- totally complimented by a somewhat stained bone-colored leather couch and chair ensemble. Other pluses about the apt. include the décor, which is inclusive of but not limited to a huge painting of cacti over the couch, a glass coffee table with fake ivy underneath it, and a big painted ceramic baby shoe filled with plastic flowers. I’ve hit the jackpot here, people. Not to mention that the elevators smell intermittently like rancid Doritos or chlorine, given the day, and my closet/dressing area/bathroom section of the apartment smells like a combination of cat pee and cigarettes. I’ve bought several vanilla candles which I keep burning whenever I am home.

There are some really great things about the place, however- like the fact that it’s totally free to me. It has a big balcony where my collapsible camping chair and Trek 4300 reside. And the best of all is that the apartment faces the west- the entire west wall is made of glass and sliding glass doors, and I have an incredible view of the mountains during the day and city lights at night. Well, not really city lights. Pseudo-city lights.

I am working at Starbucks, as I posted before- it is only a couple of minutes from my school, which is great. I’d love to get a place on the west side of town, or even in Manitou Springs, so that I could ride my bike to work/school in nice weather. The store is on the extreme west side of town, really nestled right into the foothills. Every time I lean out of the drive through window to hand someone a fattening, expensive drink, I get a breathtaking view of Pike’s Peak.

I wonder sometimes why I get to do this, and other people don’t- or if there is no real reason, other than other people just don’t.

Everything feels right- it feels right to be here, and I’m looking forward to the next year like I have not looked forward to anything in a while. I don’t feel lonely yet- just little twinges like when I talk to Jeff & Emily back home, and we out ourselves on missing each other. I don’t feel any regret for time spent in Indy; I feel totally blessed by the time spent with family and WEMO family. It is simply the right time for something new.

1500 miles away from what you don't even know

So I pulled into town a couple of days ago, and let me say it's good to be out west. I've been staying in Denver with my best friend, sleeping in late, eating a tray of gummies, and spending time at the local mom & pop coffeeshop, Common Grounds on west 32nd. We're over here tonight at an open mic, listening to a girl named Quinn cover Waterdeep, Ben Folds, and Counting Crows (in that order).

I drove down to the Springs today to get a few things set with my transfer from my old Starbucks in Indy to a new location. (See logo above.) Looks like I'll fit in quite handily at 31st & Colorado, which has a drive-through unlike my old store. It's also a bit bigger than my old store, as well as busier. Only time will tell if I can keep up to the increased demand of mochas.
I think I'm falling in love with the town, however- even just driving through today felt right. Back to the thought of drive-throughs for a second, I really hate the idea. Especially in coffeeshops. These establishments exist for the purpose of providing a place to create peace and pause in the day. A drive-through nullifies this purpose. There is no moment created, except the one where you roll down the window to order, pay, and grab your double tall breve latte. A drive through is an antithesis of a coffeeshop. If you can't take enough time to even walk into the establishment and buy your drink and then walk out again, something is wrong with your lifestyle. Anyway, enough of that tirade for now.

The drive out wasn't that bad- the traffic beyond Kansas City was scarce to say the least. There was actually a span of 50 miles once I got into Colorado when I didn't see another single car traveling westbound. The weather was somewhat icy/blizzardy, which was probably most of the reason I was so isolated. Blinking orange digital signs, which read "icy road" were spread along the way, which was a huge help- otherwise, I would have assumed that despite the swirling snow and caustic winds, the roads were in pristine condition. I actually love driving in winter weather; I got my driver's liscence in December during my Junior year of high school, when I lived in Michigan. I am in my most native element with snow on the roads.

To finish up with my playlist from the trip, the second day on the road found the following in Al's player:

Kitchen Radio- Peter Mulvey (a finish-up from Monday)
The (almost) Best of Kris Delmhorst- a Brad Etter compilation
Lost & Found- Griffin House
Films For Radio- Over the Rhine
Busted Stuff- Dave Matthews Band
Live from Luther College, disc 1- Dave Matthews/Tim Reynolds
The Green CD- John Mayer
Fall Mix Fix- compilation by my best friend, circa September 2004

The most important item on my agenda in the last few days has nothing to do with my trip, or music in my car, or least of all Starbucks. My mom called me the night that I got in to Denver, as I was driving along Speer Avenue, to tell me that my 18 year old cousin Katie had attempted suicide the day before. After fights with both parents in a 24 hour period (who have been long divorced), a classmate found her in the bathroom at high school with slit wrists, banging her head against the wall. At moments like this in life, when it seems that an eternity hangs in the balance, it does. I have realized in the last several days that I'm quite sure that my cousin has never known peace, rolling like a river over everything that slowly gnaws at her. She has never felt the balm that heals all wounds, the grace that covers over everything she hates about herself and everyone else, making everything whole and beautiful. She has never felt the comfort of being loved in spite of ugliness, the joy of being treasured despite meanness of spirit, or the eternal rest found only in eternal arms. She is not a child of God, a sister of Christ, a receiver of the inheritance which has already been paid for. The fact that she is my cousin has just made me think more about her in particular, but I have been thinking about everyone. There is nothing more important- just when I get caught up in my life, in my trips or my CDs, something comes along and grounds me. I need a harsh grounding occasionally, and this certainly served the purpose well. There is nothing more important. Nothing will matter more in my life- my accomplishments, my failures, my friends, lovers or children. There is nothing more important than finding myself in Christ. For it is there that I will find myself. This is what will give everything else meaning, not the other way around. I can have no greater purpose in life than to know Christ and to make Him known; in this I will never have any regrets, no matter what my profession or location. There is nothing more important.

I'm a huge fatty pan

There she blows, the flippin' St. Louis Arch.

I got to see it for the first time today, in my arduous trek westward. I left Indianapolis late this morning with a fully loaded Al, and headed west. [Sidenote for my virtual friends: Al is my '93 silver trashy Ford Escort station wagon.] Though I have driven to Colorado before, we went the 80/90 route to the north, and I had not yet been to St. Louis. Let me just say, folks, I was not disappointed. I saw the arch. And then I left.

Being in the car for long stretches makes you get creative- lest you lose your mind. I made up games. They were called the see if you can drive with your left foot game, and the see if the bike can stay on the back of the car even though the carrier is slightly bent game. I won both of them. You also begin to think about funny moments in life, or just memories in general, and laugh at random times. One of my favorite reminisces today involved a scenario when I was trying to convey my deep appreciation for Patty Griffin after recently attending a live show in Cincinatti. I came up with the phrase used as the subject for this post- say it out loud and I'm sure you can put two and two together.

As a sidenote and a brief moment of gloating: I got over 500 miles on just a tank and a half of gas, which would work out to about 18 gallons max; and this is with a fully loaded vehicle. SUVs, eat your hearts out. The only downer- being passed by trucks while ascending moderate-sized hills.

I've also decided to keep a running log of discs played on this trip, for anyone who cares:

(in chronological listening order)

Ohio, disc 2- Over The Rhine
Cathedral of Sound- Global DJ Experience
New Favorite- Alison Krauss and Union Station
Talkie Walkie- Air
November mix- compilation by yours truly that includes a bit of everything...
The Moonlight EP- Susan Enan
Rush of Blood to the Head- Coldplay
Autumn Copyright Demo- kate laurel smith
Kitchen Radio- Peter Mulvey

So that's that. On a slightly more sentimental note, Indianapolis was harder to leave than I thought (but not as hard as it could have been). Friends, family and church have been such blessings to me through my brief sojourn in this "Crossroads of America." As a parting note, I can say that Indianapolis was a good place for me to be, but an even better place for me to be from.

Stay tuned for part two of the journey....

to sum up a year in words

Summing it all up.... nobody has a better way with words than what I believe is the most talented musical group around today, Over The Rhine. This song is from their latest studio release, Ohio. Thanks for calling it like it is, Karin.

Remind Us
words and music: Karin Bergquist
recording: OHIO

I don't know where this is going
I'm taking a ride on a wing and a prayer
Follow me there
We'll both be surprised

If we forget anything
Hopefully nobody will remind us

Can't bear the news in the evening
We're going to bed and we're going to war
All of this for
Anyone's guess

If we forget anything
Heaven forbid someone would remind us

Sinners and saints, priests and kings
Are we just using God for our own gain
What's in a name
Open your eyes

If we forget everything
There will be no one left to remind us

I don't know where this is going
I'm taking a ride on a wing and a prayer
Follow me there
We'll both be surprised

The New Year

The past 24 hours have been spent in a wonderful bask of the familiar, turning the old year into the new. I have been in Three Oaks, Michigan- home of Prancer, home of my formative years. Though I actually lived in nearby Harbert, my church, high school and best friend were all located in Three Oaks, so I probably spent more time there. The New Year's Eve routine has continued on in my life despite many other differences, and it is a comforting tradition that promises to be a part of my life for a long time.

The evening is spent at Ben and Jan Ackerson's house, parents of my best friend from high school, Jericho. Her boyfriend Matt is a new addition this year, but everyone else has been around for years. Dave and Annette McCord come down from Ionia, with their son Joe, now a junior in high school. Dave brought (as always) guitars and a mandolin, and this year, Matt (a percussionist) brought drums. We all play games together until midnight, and then toast the year with sparkling white grape, peach, or raspberry. Then we play Grand Funk Railroad and Eagles covers until 1:30, when everyone falls asleep.

A few things have changed, though the evening remains the same. Jericho was injured in a horseback riding accident four years ago, leaving her partially paralyzed. She can walk, with the aid of two canes and leg braces. It hardly seems different- her laugh and quirky sense of humor remains the same. The differences are maneuvering with canes and stares from people- the worst is when well-meaning elderly ask her when she is going to get better. I have, on occasion, wanted to strangle the ignorant people that say stupid things to us when we are out, but her grace and ever-present good judgment have always swooped in at the nick of time, keeping both of us safe from my big mouth. Things can be fun, though, like when her boyfriend Matt (an ex-Marine) scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder and takes off running. I get to chase along behind, laughing and carrying canes and hoping she doesn't puke. Grace makes moments like those moments that I cherish forever; appreciating something so much because things are just a little different, or hard, or sad. Kind of like the new year.

So much has happened in the world in the last year. So much will happen this year. Grace sees us through this divine adventure. Looking forward to tomorrow, and living for today- both the agony and the delight of the calling which we have received. I'm so grateful for moments in life where everything becomes clear and time stops, because they are so unexpected. Running through a movie parkinglot in late December carrying canes may not sound like much of an epiphany, but it can be.

New Year, bring it on.