the price of a free gift

Miroslov Volf was a guest speaker at the Seminary last week. He spoke very eloquently on topics of forgiveness. It was all very impressive and sparked some very thoughtful conversations amongst my friends and associates. Thursday evening Volf talked about three categories or modes of existence. We can live in coercion, sales or gift. Living coercively involves using our charms and gifts to get those things we want from other people, whether they desire to give them to us or not. We exploit others and in that process we also exploit ourselves. Sales involves a this for that transaction. We know what that is all about. Everything is sales now-a-days. And gift—true gift—is very rare. One gives freely with no expectation of getting a return—ever! The later is what poets and idealists dream and write of. It is a risky grace. It shipwrecks a cost-benefit economy and also runs the risk of being shipwrecked by it in return. Yet it forces one to live in open-handed hope. Hope that a gift would be given freely in return and that the human community would be built up by pure gift. And that this community would begin with you and me. That this gift that the God of all being has given to us freely so that we can give a truly free gift in the agony filled hope that a free gift would be returned, so that the both of us would be enhanced in our being by the life-giving, mutual benefit of gift giving.

However, the pinnacle moment was when Volf mentioned in passing that these concepts are only articulated out of the shining examples of his saintly nanny and his father. Later, someone prompted him to tell us about the examples his father left him. And this was the most memorable of anything he said. He went on and on, telling us stories about his father. One of them was about when he was young and his five-year-old brother had died at the hands of a man, in an accident with a cart. His father, in response, spent an entire day traveling to find this man, to tell him that he did not hold him responsible.

This demonstration of forgiveness and love is a gift of more value than anything in the world that money can buy. Thus, whatever the price, whatever it costs to offer such a gift, one should take it, even if it takes a lifetime to find the person. Even if it costs a thousand dollars. Even if it costs a million dollars and all your energy and health. If you sacrifice everything: this is a true gift. The greater the offense…the greater the price…the greater the opportunity to give an EXPENSIVE gift for FREE.

But most of the time the gift won't cost us a million dollars. We wish it would. Instead it will cost us pride, fame, fortune. To give such a gift will humiliate us and correct us.

those churches where they roll around on the floor

Sometimes I tell personal stories and use jargon that make people respond to me as though they are kindly acknowledging my charismatic Pentecostal perspectives. That’s really funny to me because I’ve never been a part of a charismatic Pentecostal church service for more than a Sunday or two. I’m familiar with some of the “traditions” and expressions of that movement—about as familiar as I am with the African American church traditions.

What is interesting is how people often assume how their named traditions have informed my seeing the world. However, for me it has been different. I grew up in a buffered community where emotionalism was a misnomer for charismaticism. Generally nobody had any proof for what went on in “outsider churches”or traditions because no one ever went there. But there were always opinions about what happened in those churches when the rare topic emerged. It was experiences for which I had no words that drove me to begin looking for an expression for it. I’ve struggled to put language to the experience. I found some expression and language for these mystical experiences in the “charismatic dictionary” so to speak but not enough to snag me. I’ve heard about word of knowledge, prophetic utterance, speaking in tongues, casting out demons, holy laughter, slain in the spirit and holy rollers. After a bout of reading at a U of M library, I would begin talking about premonitions, extrasensory experience, centering, transcendental meditation, multiple personality disorder, shape shifting, projection.

As for the experiences.

At times it was as if a viewing window to the future opened and closed for me. Sometimes I would feel an emotion that was not my own but came from someone standing near me. Once I was with a friend when he spoke to me in voices other than his own voice. It was as though he was bleeping in and out of himself. Sometimes I could unexpectedly feel someone’s presence in a particular location of a campus of buildings and out of curiosity I would go to see and there he/she was.

Once after a period of time in a concerted search for language, two of my mentorees who had decided to leave the Mennonite church, approached me with a story they thought would shock me. They too were on a search of their own and had ended up in a church as they described—“Well, last night we randomly went to a church in town. And, you know those churches where they roll around on the floor. Well, we went up front at the end of the service and we were rolling on the floor too.”

the giver and taker of life: reflections on death and who done it

When we speak of God as the giver and taker of life, we speak of him as the Creator. If he had not created, then there would be no life but his own. There would then also be no death. In this we speak of God as the ultimate Cause-creation the effect. Conclusively, God is the giver and taker of life.

There then is no question that God gives life both eternal and human life. But there is a question of whether he is the taker of life. For if he is also the taker of life then he must be called a murderer. But how can God create such as he does then destroy that which he created in a murderous act. Such a being would not be God.

Perhaps we are making to large of a statement when we say, "God is the giver and the taker of life." To say such within the realm of infinity would be to make a correct statement. But to say so within the context of our human experience would result in making an incorrect statement or it would result in calling God a murderer. If God is God he could not be a murderer. For if God were a murderer, he would not be God. Thus, within the context of human finitude, God does not take life. Mankind takes his fellow's life. Man takes his own life. Woman conceives and gives life to another. Woman takes life. A child's life is snuffed our nearly as soon as it speaks. The child is not born. Is God responsible?

Has God taken this life? Is God a murderer? These are inappropriate questions for they force infinity into the confines of finitude. Yet to answer appropriately within the finite context we say, "No, God has not murdered, yet his angels have taken the soul to the Lord's bosom." Yet the body remains lifeless, dead, rotting in the soil. Who then has done THIS thing?

You and I have. Satan has. We have made Satan our god and we have rebelled against God and caused this dead, rotting in the soil thing.

So, whether we pull the trigger or whether we sin and someone dies or I die. We have done murder. Our decision to rebel has taken the life of another and takes our own life as well.

keeping short accounts

Everyone knows what it’s like to be wronged by someone else. Everyone knows what it’s like to realize suddenly that you have wronged, offended or hurt someone. Yet there is a world of difference between the response possibilities when in the middle of either scenario.

Recently, I “accidentally” put an end to 8 years of avoidance between two parties involved in an ancient love triangle. I invited a friend to a birthday dinner for another friend. The birthday girl invited her best friends; a couple that I had lost touch with over the years. So, the couple and the birthday girl and I were sitting in a restaurant waiting for my friend to show up. He came through the door. I watched as the couple recognized him and their eyes turned into saucers as they gripped the table with white knuckles and ashen faces. My friend sat down. Everyone maintained normalcy for the birthday dinner. However, the story came out over coffee after my friend left. Evidently, 8 years ago, the female part of the couple had been out on a date with my friend, who had joined us. Her roommate called her while she was on this date and it was conveyed to the roommate’s companion (the female’s present husband) what she was up to—to which he responded, “Oh, NO!” The female overheard this cry of distress over the phone, while on the date with my present friend. A short time later a “rescue party” (among them her present husband and then roommate) showed up to interrupt her date. Her husband recalls simply making a lame excuse, grabbing her by the arm and leading her away. In the end, evidently, she had liked her present husband all along, however, since he was sitting on his duff...er, wasn’t initiating, she had begun to accept other offers.

So, a few months after the interrupted date, the duff sitting man, now alter standing man and the woman got married, without their community’s blessing because of numerous other convoluted circumstances. But here’s the most bizarre part about the story. For the past 8 years, this couple has been avoiding this young man. If ever they happened to be at the same gathering, the couple would pick up and leave. Their feeling of guilt was apparent and the moment of culpability was just like it happened yesterday.

I have several reactions to this scenario. One, I in no way feel apologetic for any discomfort I caused anyone that evening, because of one uncomfortable evening around the table of celebration, the said Lord’s supper, 8 years of running away was put to an end. It was as if this was a foreshadowing of things to come in the kingdom of God for those who intend to sit down at God’s table with brothers--only to be made uncomfortable. Two, it never ceases to amaze me what folks sacrifice on the alter of Eros. This couple had sacrificed community, church and all their former friends. Three, it amazes me as to what gymnastics are performed to avoid the difficult moment in the process to resolution: a full encounter of wrongs committed and forgiveness given. Given this and other stories like it, I think someone should write a book series, the first should be entitled, “War: pacifism in a culture of violence.” And the second should be entitled, “Love: pacifism in a culture of addictive love.”

Keeping short accounts is essential to being Christian and more importantly to being a pacifist Christian. Wrongs committed would be made right quickly, so that the gospel of peace would not be defamed among Christ’s followers. The personal and social agony of unresolved tensions causes more discomfort and than the uncomfortable moments in the process to resolution. I would prefer almost anything to 8 years of running away. It seems that offenders could so quickly put an end to their own feelings of guilt by simply apologizing and asking for absolution. This is the story of the prodigal son. Or even if the “offender” is paralyzed by his offense to the other (be it however minor), could “the other” not emulate Christ to his brother by pursuing him relentlessly, proclaiming, “I forgive you!” This is the story of the Father who has pursued us while we were yet in our sins.

I think ultimately the root of the matter is: we don’t really believe in forgiveness. We fear that we are not forgiven.

All is fair in love and war—Christ rules only over my mediocrity.

wilderness retreat

I didn’t know people sponsored programs such as this one but my neighbor just referred me to the wilderness retreats that Fred does. He is Orthodox and the following sites are a part of his ministry and work.

http://www.antiochian.org/SOYO/wilderness

http://www.nrpe.org/profiles/profiles_vi_C_19_01.htm

I highly recommend the retreat of solitude. I tried it a few years ago. I didn’t have anything to go on other than this unquenchable need to be alone with God. So I ignored everything people were trying to say to me. I got into my junker truck and drove for 5 days straight, stopping only to sleep and eat a bit.

In the desert, as I was detoxing from my life, as the sun went down on the Mojave—a cascade of emotions washing over me: confusion, fear, exhaustion, dehydration, loneliness, effects of exploitation and fear of stranger.

I opened my Bible and began reading where I first put my finger…

The familiarity of the passage caught me by surprise. Its meaning was enriched as I recalled the exegetical paper I had done on this passage some time past.

Psalm 102

1 Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry for help come to you. 2 Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly. 3 For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. 4 My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. 5 Because of my loud groaning I am reduced to skin and bones. 6 I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. 7 I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. 8 All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. 9 For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears 10 because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. 11 My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass.

12 But you, O Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations. 13 You will arise and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to show favor to her; the appointed time has come.

I was strangely filled, as the stars popped out to hang over my shoulders.

when tempted—engage strategically

I’ve been contemplating strategies and spiritual disciplines when encountering temptation. I was at a stand still over two different approaches. One is on the opposite of the continuum from the other: you can either face temptation like an animal stalking its prey or run for your life. We hear of the nobility and honorableness of the later one quite often—or at least I have in the more fundamental circles. Joseph’s response to the temptation of Potiphar’s wife is their showcase story. Joseph is the hero. He resisted valiantly, leaving his coat behind in order to escape temptation and was falsely accused and thrown into jail. It was the best case scenario for the situation. Or is it?

I’ve noticed a different approach. And I think I prefer it. Two of my mentors have talked about in different ways. One says, “lean into your fear.” The other often said, “Don’t run from a temptation—look it square in the eyes and then walk toward it, purposefully.” Over come it—don’t run away.

It stands to reason. If one avoids tempting situations, one can spend their entire life walking around tempting situations. It seems a very encumbered existence to walk around things all the time. Wouldn’t it be better if that tempting thing no longer had a leash on you? How does that happen? Jesus gives us an example of how to overcome temptation, with his desert experience. He confronts it with authority and with truth (Scripture).

I’ve also read an Eldridge book recently. His advice concurs. When Satan brings a situation of temptation into our lives—that very moment is a possibility for victory. We are not to run from it, for it is our big chance, it is our possibility for victory over the temptation. It is a matter of perspective—Is the glass half full or is it half empty? Is this your opportunity to set a precedent for overcoming this temptation or is it the moment to again bow to the temptation’s power over you?

The question Eldridge answers is, how does temptation not become temptation anymore? How does that addiction dissipate? How can one suddenly give a decided, “no” to something that once held him/her over the barrel.

Healing.

It’s so simple but obscure and nonsensical to most. Healing is the answer. We are inexplicably drawn to/attached to the things that have hurt us deeply. Those incidents are written onto our souls. We grasp for salve that would heal us, but Satan stands there offering us salt for our wounds. We long for healing so much that we trick ourselves into believing that the bowl of salt is the salve. And we take it and apply it, only to come away with more pain in the same wound. The boy who broke up with me. And the boys who continue to break up with me. The friend who betrayed me. And the friends who continue to betray me. The church leader who humiliated me. And the authority figures who continue to humiliate me. If I am not healed, where healing is enabled by my forgiveness of the other, then this moment of my wounding will reoccur forever, presenting itself as a temptation to sin--forever.

Behind every temptation there is a wound. And behind every wound there is Jesus waiting to heal. Encountering the temptation involves an authentic encounter with the fears and terrors of one’s past woundings.

Therefore, lean into your fear. Grab your temptation by the horns and in the power and strength that God gives you—be an overcomer.

Gen 21:14 Early the next morning Abraham took some food and a skin of water and gave them to Hagar. He set them on her shoulders and then sent her off with the boy. She went on her way and wandered in the desert of Beersheba. 15 When the water in the skin was gone, she put the boy under one of the bushes. 16 Then she went off and sat down nearby, about a bowshot away, for she thought, "I cannot watch the boy die." And as she sat there nearby, she began to sob. 17 God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, "What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. 18 Lift the boy up and take him by the hand, for I will make him into a great nation." 19 Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink.

spiritual nutrition

Give yourself what you need to live well, so you don’t begin to lust after the counterfeits.

There is an understanding nutritionists often implement when dealing with “random” cravings people sometimes get for foods that aren’t good for them. People tend to believe their cravings are random or bad habits or something of that nature. Often that’s part of the deal. Yet, there is a reason behind every craving. The answer is found in satisfying that craving with the best available. For random potato chip and French fry cravings, often it is the essential oils that run missing from a daily diet and the body will make do with the other oils we feed it by demanding McDonalds too often. Sometimes we beat ourselves up over the helpless cravings which seem to randomly call our names and render us helpless. Yet I don’t think it is random. Things call our name for reasons. It is how we respond that makes all the difference about whether we will live well or die early.

I often carry a bag of apples in my car. Apples expand in your stomach and help you feel full. I found that too often I would be driving somewhere and suddenly I’d be hungry and everything along the road would look fabulously delicious.

Food addictions are somewhat the same as nutrition deficiencies, but more complex. Instead of nutritional deficiencies being to blame, psychological and emotional wounds feed these addictions.

I used to like water. It was like sunlight. You take it for granted until suddenly it’s dark. You see, it was sort of like one day it started getting darker. And every day it got progressively darker until...suddenly...I realized—it was dark.

The same thing happened with the water. It was a part of basic existence. Then, I started to drink those sweet drinks they offered me. I liked the taste. They were my treat. But some time later, I noticed I wasn’t drinking water anymore. I decided I would drink only water again but I forgot how.

Mom's Handiwork

About 33 years ago my mother began her career in raising 10 children. It was quite the adventure, as I recall. Never a dull moment. 33 years later my parents are going through the empty nester life stage, with only my youngest brother living at home. What do they do? Well, my father does what he always did, build stuff, fix stuff, plant, harvest, milk cows. And in the evening, he relaxes in his easy chair and reads. The house can fall down around his ears and he’ll still sit in that chair reading. But my mom—she does other things because she hasn’t convinced any of her children to come live at home again. Her latest interest has been to braid rugs, such as the one depicted above. Any time I come home she’s got several more rugs done. They are sturdy and beautiful. If anyone wants to buy a rug, let me know. I’m becoming my mom’s distributor and fair trade advocate.
Each rug is one of a kind. And my mom can even make one into the colors of your choice.

She also makes quilts. Last time I was at home she told us how she went dumpster diving outside the second-hand store for rags to put into her rug. My friends Josh and Mark have a story about dumpster diving for second hand food (read their story here)... but rescuing the twice thrown away...I struggle between two polar reactions: junior high embarrassment or perhaps awe, because it's one level more...something.

sleep deprived humor

Okay, so, it’s crunch time at work as we are gearing up for the next quarter. Since, I generally get really goofy when I am sleep deprived and everything is funny, I thought I’d share something I found really funny. This would be great YouTube material. Someone who is unemployed would have to be the actor though...cause otherwise it would be great getting fired material too.

Reasons to give when caught sleeping at work.

1. They told me at the blood bank this might happen.

2. This is just a 15 minute power-nap like they raved about in that time management course you sent me to.

3. Whew! Guess I left the top off the Wite-Out. You probably got here just in time!

4. I wasn’t sleeping! I was meditating on the mission statement and envisioning a new paradigm.

5. I was testing my keyboard for drool resistance.

6. I was doing a highly specific Yoga exercise to relieve work – related stess. Do you discriminate toward people who practice Yoga?

7. Dang! Why did you interrupt me? I had almost figured out a solution to our biggest problem. Did you know that the dude who invented the sewing machine, fell asleep from exhaustion when trying to figure out where to put the hole in the needle. He had a dream and in it he encountered the solution.

8. The coffee machine is broken…

9. Someone must have put decaf in the wrong pot…

10. …in Jesus’ name, Amen.

got personality!!??

I found this fun little personality test online. Thought I’d recommend it and show my results.

I try not to take these too seriously but am open to what God might be showing me through them. As sometimes it’s good to look into the mirror and pray about what is seen there.

Advocacy makes sense. I do a lot of that. Inventor. My grandparents and my fathers side of the family they are all inventors. I thought the masculinity/femininity measure was kinda funny—especially when a woman scores higher in the masculine than in the feminine. But I’m not surprised. And I suppose the good ol Mennonite value of functionality is a trusty pillar but, thank God, it does not banish me to the land of boredom because I’ve been blessed with an imagination.

A scripture came to me in response to my lowest score:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5, 6

If you find this fun, and take the quiz, let me know how you score.

My Personal Dna Report

uncivil discourse

So, I went to this talk at the Walker Art Center, entitled, Uncivil Discourse. It was a classy event with all the suits in the city, with appetizers and linens and an informational speech. The socializing proved profitable and a bit surprising as I met the mayor’s communications director and some infiltrators affiliated with emergent, who knew my sister. Wow! It’s a small world after all.

The talk was about the outrage industry and how they exploit the common citizen. The outrage industry is simply any public figure or organization who entices their audience into a particular perspective or action via manipulative speech or propaganda that taps into fear and anger. Those in the advertising industry know—yes, this is how it actually is supposed to work. But for those who enjoy a higher level response and interchange, realize the intellectual bankruptcy of such a response audience—indicative also of comparable low-level emotional commitment and by-in.

In the public arena issues are set up with no middle ground or trajectory for resolution. Issues are set up in a polarity that gains a figurehead or a platform political advantage. Collaboration and collective problem solving between the positions that have been framed in a polarized structure would be bad for politics. It would be bad for the outrage industry. It would be bad for me because I would have to think constructively. I would maybe have to do something more than rant and rave and beg the question. And quite frankly, I like ranting and raving. I get a high off the head trip where I eloquently tear apart someone else’s and establish how mature and intelligent I am with my alternative argument.

...okay,...back to the presentation. Those of us who are most vulnerable to being drawn by the voice that tempts our adrenaline levels. A transient existence gives us little or no context to tie us into the world of flesh and bone. Our highly mobile culture uproots us. Generally, for security we naturally choose to embrace the things that feel familiar to us. We settle into homogenous communities. We self-select our own news and information sources which feed into and affirm our set of beliefs. Ignorance, prejudice and intolerance percolate in these communities of sameness, whether they are virtual or our own special urban tribe. All we need is someone to begin yelling, “Revolution!” “Kill the non conformists” and you’ve got yourself a Darfur. (Okay that's a bit of a fast, long stretch...but you get my point)

Worst case scenario? Yes! Scare tactic used? Right again!

The speaker made some insightful observations. He gave some great back-up on historical trends which bring us to this place in time. He also gave a solution—a plug to join the organization which hosted the event. Okay so maybe he had to do that. But a few things rang true. Collaboration and working toward a solution in peace and harmony doesn’t attract attention and it doesn’t give me that rush of adrenaline. It doesn’t give me that winner’s elation once I proclaim a win over my opponent. There is something pacifistically Anabaptist about that.

Our new edition to the family. He was born to my brother and sister-in-law on March 8.

water

Peacefullady is doing musical Mondays on her site. The songs are sung in traditional four-part harmony. Everyone who’s grown up in the Mennonite community contributes to the sound, participates in the singing. Perhaps it is simply tradition. Perhaps it is simply singing. But, when all those in the community of God...sing--it becomes the unified prophetic voice of that community, into the space they occupy and beyond. It not only proclaims the Lord’s exploits to those with physical ears but demonstrates harmony of life in manner of expression, weaving beauty into the outer thresholds of being and beyond. Or... perhaps it speaks that which is not into that which is.

The second verse of I heard the Voice especially resonates with me. Go listen to it quickly, for she will be changing the song on Monday.

I Heard the Voice of Jesus say...

I begged for water for my parched lips. The heat of the day wore on. My lips scorched like a desert, bled red, as did the wounds in his hands and feet. I asked for water again. They gave me vinegar. But I drank. I drank and drank till I did not know what water was. The sun went down and rose again. They gave me water but I could not drink it.

Cuando se hablo lo escrito se pierde lo dicho.
de La Fonda Azul

lunar eclipse

Hope you all caught the lunar eclipse last Saturday, just after sundown. This was the view from my kitchen window.

pacifist does not mean passive

A while back a friend was ribbing me about not being a pacifist as I claim. He sited my not so passive manner of being as evidence.
Passive is what is expected. To a certain extent we have lived up to the label the mainstream has given us—we are passive. We are not the upsetters of the culture of violence. I ran across an article written by Albert Einstein on Pacifism. In it he calls himself a militant pacifist. And he calls others to initiate an aggressive campaign against violence.
The full article is here.

grace of being

It was a moment of crystal clear consciousness, an awareness of beauty, an engagement of total being—as I recall. I emerged as though out of a drowning bottomless eddy—numb, confused, breathing but not living.

My heart was with her, in her grave, under the headstone I had crafted. Her body was barely cold in the ground. My mind determined that I must continue to live with brute effort. To signify my resolution, I’d enrolled in a language class at the University. I would speak. I would speak even in other languages, an effort to remind myself I was still alive. I would continue to learn—to pursue my goals. I would woo my heart out of that grave, down there with her.

I was walking across the bridge toward campus, the skyline to my right, on a backdrop of the most outstanding wash of periwinkle. The air—crisp. Then it happened. Unsolicited. Unannounced. It was as though I’d walked into a pocket of pure oxygen. It was a moment of pure awareness, encounter of being...seemingly random...certainly, pure grace. I stopped in surprise. I reveled in the moment. I felt a moment of pure God.

the big snow

So, we finally got dumped on. And the city got their plows out to deal with the residential streets for the first time this season. One of my friends called me up and said, “Wow, isn’t this terrible! We’re all snowed in.”
“Actually, I love it!” I responded. Everyone in the neighborhood emerges from their hibernation at the same time to shovel snow. It’s fantastic! It’s like a big party. Neighbors who you’ve never seen suddenly appear—all of them. The Hispanic lady, the redneck who beats his girlfriend, the Italian, the gay couple and the Hmong family with 10 children and I—we all emerge and nod knowingly at each other as we lean on our shovels to relieve our aching backs.

all the way to Calgary

So I’ve been out of the country for a stint. I went on a spiritual retreat in Calgary, Alberta. And I drove. Mapquest said it would take 23 hours. I left at 9 pm one evening and got there at 9 pm the next evening. And I took a 2 hour nap in North Dakota and another longer nap before crossing the Minnesota border.

I took an audio book along and was reminded of why I don’t read fiction—Not many fictional stories impress me or have ever impressed me. Other than that, I sang along to my CDs, prayed and talked to myself to pass the time and on the way home I prepared a speech, practiced it and drove directly to the meeting I was to give it at, upon entering town.

The retreat was amazing! The most holistic approach to personal transformation I have ever encountered. The teaching was quality stuff, presented by ordinary folks. Time was provided for personal reflection and then also “counseling” which was a mixture of the deepest prayer I’ve ever experienced in addition to dialoguing with two other counselors who had been assigned to me.

The Canadian Rockies.

The barren plain between Portal, ND and Calgary.

Yes. I drove for hours and hours on end.

a redemptive story

Losing Teagan: A story of tragedy, forgiveness and hope. http://www.bethel.edu/alumni/Focus/Spring/03/teagan.html

the fall of the Beachy

Once I apologized to a friend for being too tired to catch his “laugh here” cues. He looked at me kind of odd like and said, “Why don’t you just laugh about the things you find funny.” I told him because then I would never laugh and that would be a tragedy because I love to laugh. But there is a new post of the Beachy Satire site entitled The Fall of Man—Beachy Style that is gutt-wrenchingly funny--to me of course. Here it is http://beachycomplex.blogspot.com/

kingdom action renovare

The sermon I would have given...

Over the years, our neighborhoods and churches have become less and less cohesive. Activity, affiliations, media and progress have usurped tangible community. We have become isolated. We don’t know our literal neighbors much less our spiritual neighbors.

This is not in keeping with the first and greatest commandment—to love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and to love your neighbor as yourself.

We need to know our neighbors. We need to love them every day. They are in the check-out lines and behind the desk at the businesses we frequent. We need to know what they like, what they eat, what they drink. We need to know if they are remodeling their bathroom or kitchen—then we need to go and help them, with the expectation of becoming their family to them (not a boyfriend or a girlfriend—cummon, giggle with me, those of you who know the inside joke). We need to know if they have addictions and then we need to love them anyway. We need to know if they are sex offenders or prostitutes and then we need to love them and be their brother or sister in Christ anyway. We need to know if their children need mentoring or some odd jobs to do.

And the best way to find out about these things in the lives of your neighbors—those who God has entrusted to you—is to have a cup of tea with them. You need to know how to be friendly and how to care about people. This is basic and very simple.

Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get to the point where you can include your neighbor into your family. Sometimes it takes years. And meetings and prayer walks are only a small but vital piece in what it takes mobilize the kingdom of God in a neighborhood.

The church would like to help you organize whatever it is you need for your particular neighborhood. But these two things we are starting with is (1) To love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind and then (2) to love your neighbor as yourself. And if you are already have a grasp on these two items in your life and if your friends and neighborhood is being transformed around you—You are a leader in the kingdom of God and need to be taking us to the next level of kingdom building infiltration in the world.

neighborhood action renovare: i.e. my first sermon

I’ve lived in my neighborhood for about 5 years now—just a little nitch on the East side. And as I started meeting my neighbors, I’ve learned how our neighborhoods have become less and less cohesive. Crime has gone up as population density increases and neighborhoods have become more transient. Those of you who have been here a long time have seen some of that fluctuation.
Yet we as a community of people need to combat those negative forces out there. We need to know our neighbors. We need to smile and say hi every day. We need to know who owns the property next door. We need to know if they are refinishing their kitchen or their bathroom.
And the best way to find that out is to have a cup of tea with them.

It’s basic and very simple. But this is how you find out if there’s somebody in the neighborhood that shouldn’t be there. It’s so that you know whether or not the truck that just pulled up next door—with the guys walking in and out with copper pipe—whether they are doing repairs or stripping the house for copper scrap. It’s how you report delinquent behavior of youth and children to their parents. It’s how you find support in your own time of need. It’s how you find out about the unpublicized sex offenders. It’s how I found out about the unpublicized sex offender who lived next door—through an open window. Later, his face was on the front page of the newspaper.

Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get to the point where you can call your neighbor your friend. Sometimes it takes years. And block clubs and walking groups are only a small but vital piece in what it takes to be a unified community. We need to be in a block club before a problem happens but sometimes the problem becomes the catalyst.

NAC would like to help you organize whatever it is you need for your particular neighborhood. But the two things we are starting with is: (1) Registering block clubs and helping residents who don’t have block clubs form them. (2) learning how to put pressure on the city inspectors who enforce code violations for the nuisance property next door or the police calls it gets. And if you are already up to speed with both these items in your neighborhood—You are a community leader and need to be taking us to the next level of community building, networking and crime prevention.

neighborhood action

There’s been a series of violent crimes in my neighborhood which have stirred up the people. In response, our district council has held public meetings for concerned neighbors, phone-banks and other organized response outreaches. Since I chair the standing committee on neighborhood action, I’ve had to wrestle with how to respond the fear, channeling its energy into a positive force for change. A few weeks ago I leveled a challenge to the common citizen along with a fellow chair of the other standing committee on my board. There he is pictured, mildly scolding folks for not being involved in community building functions. He’s our resident lawyer, which makes taking an opposing position into a battle of the wits and the words—I love it! You should come see the show. Then we all go out afterward and the losers cry into their beers. I’ll post the religiously neutral sermon that I gave to the concerned citizen, from the pulpit of a church, with pipe organ accompaniment.

For those of you who like talk radio, and live in the TC area, this guy is on Sunday afternoons, on 1500 AM.

choosing redemptive resistance

It is difficult to be a pacifist. I used to give talks on non-violent resistance in my friend’s ethics class. It was his particular perspective as well, however, I could be more expressive as the guest speaker than he could be as the professor in a Baptist Seminary. I prefer to call pacifism redemptive resistance which is dubbed passive by the culture of violence. Yet it is everything but passive. One thing I always brought up is that non-violence or redemptive resistance is a lifestyle, not just a stance on war.

It applies to every situation I encounter. For me, choosing redemptive resistance is difficult, because I am a fighter. I do like to assert myself and win. And I can and have “won,” in a worldly sense. There have been a handful of times when I have been "violent". In the worst of those incidents, I aggressively confronted the stranger who stole money from my overly generous and helpful sisters. I got what I demanded from him but only after we bounced off each others’ chests and exchanged some very aggressive verbage. It was likely a stupid thing for a short girl to do. Neither of us got all we wanted and nothing was ever redemptive. I have one enemy in the world because of that incident, which is one too many. I felt the power of this worldly sort of “winning,” as I saw the beads of sweat explode from the dude’s brow. But I didn’t win.

Winning is instead, knowing one has all the power to conquer the other in a situation of conflict of interest yet laying that aside—choosing instead the path of redemptive self-sacrifice and brotherhood. It is a silent power. One takes all the energy of emotion from the sense of wrong and injustice inflicted by the other and turns it inward toward the carnal self that wants to win—crucifying it alongside the image of Christ who had all the power in the world to climb off the cross and bring justice to his persecutors—yet Christ and I wait for ultimate justice and redemption, which will come later, after the body of flesh is sacrificed. Ultimate power resurrects on the third day. Ultimate justice emerges from a source outside of one’s self. Both this justice and this power redeem the perpetrator and its victim in the loving embrace of vibrant life. They again join hands and walk down the road together.

Perhaps I’ll share a story or two later, if anyone is interested.

how I got tangled up in loving the unlovable

Moving into a neighborhood for the sole purpose of transforming it through altruistic love is a habit wired into me from my Mennonite upbringing. For me, nothing is an obstacle if relentless love is a part of the equation. In my district work, I run into folks who vie for change through lawmaking, policing and education. This method improves some things. However, it often persists as dirt pushing—pushing problems around instead of resolving them or transforming the problem into an asset or redemptive act.

Hence, the following is a bit of a synopsis of the beauty, the adventure and the struggle of altruistic investment into whatever and whomever decided to become my neighbor—transforming the neat rows of dwellings into a dynamic, supportive community. After all it takes a tribe to raise the children that run through the streets of Railroad Island, unsupervised. Whoever, imagined it was a nuclear family that did it—or a single mother for that matter.

I had heard mutterings of a church with a charismatic leader, who had called his congregants to move into the inner city (the Phillips Neighborhood) and bring the love of Jesus with to transform their neighborhood. I don't know if their goal was their particular goal to convert the druggies, car-burners and sex offenders into stable members of society or if it was simply to push them out and in so doing transform the neighborhood. Anyhow, I thought transformation was an excellent idea and prayed the second would not be unintended consequence. I personally was not interested in simply gentrifying my neighborhood but being a catalyst for change, so that the druggie next door could say that they are no longer a druggie rather than pushing him out into another neighborhood so he can sell drugs to someone else's kids.

So, with this thought in mind, I pulled together some like-minded people, who seemed agreeable to the outrageous plan. We started off by getting to know our neighbors. We did kids night for them and for the other Hmong in the neighborhood. We had kids crawling into every crevice of our existence, in the three houses our atheist neighbor dubbed “Revival Row”. I would often come home from a full day of work in the summer only to start over as kids would see me pull up to my house and come running, screaming my name from all corners of the four block area.

There was, in particular interest to us (because of the numerous police calls), a large house which was always rented out to a large black family. Every family that lived there generally had the same story. Yet the last family was the most challenging of all. They had moved from Chicago to avoid getting shot there. I remember I was the first to meet them and got invited over to the house for a birthday party, by the ten year old who had been wandering the neighborhood, tehn became my shadow for the day. The moment I entered the house through the kitchen, I got yelled at by the toothless grandmother as she sized me up and down while waving her spatula. Her accent was so Chicago I had no idea what she was saying other than “white” this and “black” that. I decided another room in the house was my better option. So, I sat in the dining room with the mother of the child and some other adults and was offered some stuff. I turned it down. I went to the next room to watch TV with the ten year old, which was also the front room of the house. There, four uncles took their turns bringing me plates of food, entertaining me and attempting to bribe my little shadow into leaving. The auntie came by to see what was up and commented, "Wha's yahl's problem? Neva seen a white girl ba’for?" People, all kept coming in, looking through a drawer, while my ten year old and whatever uncle yelled, “It ain’ in there. The stuff ain’ in there.” They also kept checking out the front window every time a car pulled up—likely to figure out if they should be busting out the back. Meanwhile, my little shadow snuggled into me, shuttering in terror at the scary parts of whatever movie was on.

That was how I got tangled into the daily life of my “problem” neighbors.

Eventually Uncle Phil came along. He too like the rest of the family was in and out of our house and lives. We became aware of the possibility that he was a danger to the children and called child protection for this and for a number of other reasons. I had a heated argument over the phone with the lady on the other side who insisted I was reading into the situation. Then one of the guys in our community started getting thick with the family and smoking pot with them and more secrets came out. (Actually, their secrets were generally pretty loud.) Uncle Phil's dangerous!—do not be found alone with him if you are a woman, we were told. That's about the time when one of my roommates confessed to having a crush on him. She invited him into the house. She went out with him. She watched TV with him in his house on his bed. It was his mug shot on the front pages of the paper that explained to her how lucky she had been. She was horrified, ill and left work early that day! Thank God it was a lesson well learned.

There were other close calls of such sort. We were sleeping with the enemy and it was beginning to be difficult to see if our neighbors were converting us to their vices or whether we were converting them. For the most part the later was true. This particular family is now drug and alcohol free. Several uncles and aunts have gone to rehab and they have calm evenings in the house together.

quote

"the very fact that we are human creatures means that 'we cannot but behold, as in a mirror, our own face in those who are poor and despised, who have come to an end of their own power to help themselves, and who groan under their burden, even though they are utter strangers to us.'" Ronald S. Wallace

when you are in a desperate wreck

There was once a man who survived a plane crash into the ocean. He held onto the wreckage of the aircraft waiting for help to come by. He knew he only had a few hours before he would sink. So he began to pray and ask God to save him. During the first hour a woman in a motor boat came along and asked if he needed help. The man said no he was waiting for God to come along and help him. So the woman said okay, suit yourself and continued on her way. He continued to wait and ask God to save him, praying for a miracle. Soon a helicopter came along and dropped down a rope, which the man could touch with his hand. But he refused the help offered and continued to ask God to intervene. Soon a barge came along and stopped to ask if he needed help. The man accepted this offer and climbed onto the barge. As the barge headed to port, they came across the wreckage of a helicopter and a motor boat. The man recognized both to be the same ones that had come to his rescue earlier.

There is a version of this parable out there circulating. This is my rebuttal parable.

killed by a lion

Some of my favorite bible stories are the ones that shock and baffle me. Like the story told in 1 Kings 13 about someone who is simply referred to as a man of God. This man of God from Judah was urged by God to travel to Bethel where King Jeroboam was making an offering. Evidently, God told him where to go at a time when the king was present. And there it was his duty to prophecy against the alter, giving a sign that the alter would split apart and pour out its ashes. The king—angrily—stabs an accusative finger at him, intending to do away with him when the accusative arm suddenly shrivels up and the alter falls apart, pouring out its ashes!

Yet, the interesting part of the story is next. The man of God has been instructed to not eat till he returns home and that he must return a different way than he came. Rather random instructions—no? But the nameless man does his duty in addition to healing the king’s arm. His mission is nearly complete. He has yet to return home.

However, the son’s of a prophet from Bethel run home to tell their father. Their father, a prophet, comes after the man of God and persuades him to come and eat with them at their home, saying an angel had commanded him to invite him. The man of God eats and drinks, when suddenly the prophet receives a word from God against the man of God from Judah. Because he had disobeyed, he would die on foreign soil. The man saddles his donkey to return home when he is met by a lion which kills him on the road and then stands over his body, next to the man’s donkey, in the road until his host comes to get his body to bury him.

What does this mean? Talk about enacted symbolism of judgment. In Jeremiah 5:6 the attack of the lion is a picture of judgment—Therefore a lion from the forest will attack them, a wolf from the desert will ravage them, a leopard will lie in wait near their towns to tear to pieces any who venture out... Nature itself cries out against the rebellion of humankind.
Why did the man from Judah die for being deceived by a prophet from Bethel?

glassenheit

an Anabaptist word that means abandonment of one’s self that leads to peace and calm, the surrendering of one’s self to the kingdom of God and to the community of believers. It means a life now lived in on-going discipleship and living out the indwelling of Christ.
Perhaps we could say that one is not Christian unless he/she enters into glassenheit.
It is often translated as submission. I don't believe the simple word "submission" does justice to the more robust definition below. Submission paints a picture of a spinelessness. A beat and whimpering puppy, perhaps. The connotations simply don't work. Submission suggests cowardice and weakness. Glassenheit is a silent strength that thrusts its hand into the circle of believers, receiving in return the support of many hands.

lovin the YMCA

I don’t use my shower at home. I go to the YMCA. No hair to clean up. No soap scum. It’s great! If I’d live alone, I wouldn’t need to clean the bathroom at all.

Then there is the steam room. It is heaven in a box. After a long swim, it feels like wet summer. I love to sit there and sweat like a waterfall. It helps me keep my body temperature above the shiver of the climate in my house. It also keeps my face clear. There’s no need to buy all those expensive pore cleaners and reducers. My face just needs a sauna.

And all of this for only $22 a month. If you are on a Health Partners plan, you log at least 12 visits a month and if you have a house mate on the same plan with you.

lead us out of temptation

Recently, my mind has been turned to consider the art of encouraging others to do as they are compelled, not as they desire. In this particular instance it is a delicate matter, concerning the proper relationship between a married man and a woman (single or married). The more mature talk about it and choose to do what is right. I will never forget the married woman who told me that she had had a conversation with a married male co-worker about their attraction toward each other. They acknowledged it and resolved to direct it in a way that would enhance their work together and also their commitments to their own spouses. I since then have striven for that kind of bold honesty. There’s something about it that takes the temptation to relate falsely to others right out of the equation.

In my work environment (and I have several of them), I have encountered a very married man who I’ve sensed doesn’t really want to act like he is married at times. Although I have seen nothing inappropriate, I’ve gone with my gut on this one and have decidedly been encouraging toward a comfortable, engaging and open relationship with him. I have been aware of the fact that he finds me intriguing. Many people do—men and women. However, I wish to use that intrigue that they have for me and the intrigue I have for them toward God’s intention. And it’s not that I don’t find him attractive. But more importantly I believe friendship to be a very honest and high ideal in my book, a higher goal than romance I think, given the bent of society.

A few times I’ve had to meet with this married man one-on-one. Given my sense about him, I ran a mental list of how I would contribute to the interaction. I allowed myself only one touch on the shoulder—if I needed to make a strong point. I had to watch for and avoid (like the plague) the true accidental knee bumping. I would not lean forward too much or appear too comfortable in my posture. If things were getting too cozy I was going to clip my words, straighten my back and be more brusque. I was not going to dawdle at length over chit chat conversation.

An insignificant amount of time ago my suspicions were confirmed. I happened to see him (the married man) out with a young single woman, who I also knew. They were chatting, leaning towards each other, gazing into each others eyes, her feet resting inside the circle of his legs, touching at the calves.

Thanks, Lord, for the sight.

I write this because it is a real daily occurrence for many people. Yet we need to be real about it.

P.S. Do not assume this story happened outside of my Christian environment.

sexual abuse amongst the Amish and conservative Mennonites

I began researching things early in my life. Whenever I didn’t understand something, I researched it to death and thought it to death until I did understand it. One of the topics I researched while I was a teen was sexual abuse. I had a suspicion that a peer and a friend from my conservative church, showed signs of being sexually abused. Since she was coming to me for “counseling” about a million other issues, I decided I should figure out what was at the root of all this trouble. So, I prayed and I researched. It was quite amazing that I even came to the conclusion I did about her root issue, since nobody talked about such things, counselors were unheard of and psychology was a bad word. I agonized in prayer over her pain and sensed that God was reassuring me that he would bring the secret out and she would be helped. Soon thereafter she attended a bible school and it was there that a pastor with some training in counseling, prayed and counseled with her and some of her friends. She came home a changed person and began telling everyone the story of her liberation, boldly. Interestingly, it was the catalyst that pulled a few other things out from under the carpet. Two other girls confessed to being molested and the reaction of two other women gave them away. Then, there were the male “perpetrators.” Most people weren’t quite as happy about her liberation as she was.

My brother also, once dated a girl who had been molested by her older brother. Other accounts get circulated. While I was at SMBI, quite a few years ago, I ran into a teacher and his wife who both who actually had a degree in counseling and psychology and had worked to integrate it into their conservative faith. They had done a good job of it. One of the issues he and his wife deal with is sexual abuse. He gauged, based on what he had encountered, that within the Amish-Mennonite communities, the prevalence of sexual abuse was as high if not higher than in mainstream culture. Some communities are riddled with incest.

A few years ago, when stories of Mary Byler came out everyone was shocked. She was the young woman who decided to take legal action against her brother in the state of Wisconsin, for molesting her. The media monster enjoyed the sensational news. But some people I know outright refused to believe the report.

Now, I don’t just write about this to add to the sensation. I write about this because these conservative communities are in quite a bind. They refuse to acknowledge the legal system and generally refuse to respect the psychological profession. When these stories come to light, the leaders of the communities truly try to use the tools they have—forgiveness and confession—which seem worthless to those who look in from the outside. They too need kinsmen redeemers who bring them new tools, integrating them with the important tenants of their life as a community.

quote of the day

from the lady who lives in a shoe...

No Sir, we don't have a TV, and you're not gonna tempt these hardcore Mennonites by saying it's free!"
Emily (her daughter), to a telemarketer

passing on problems

On the east side we’ve had numerous discussions about problem properties and vacant buildings. The terms are almost a mantra that runs through my brain every time I’m at a community meeting. The discussion is usually framed in terms of undesirable property and housing. It’s really about people.

There’s new legislation coming down in the city of St. Paul that is of interest to all “landlords.” Since the quality of human life has been threatened by numerous transient folks who generally live in rental properties, the city has decided to crack down on the landlords in an attempt to hold the noses of the absentee landlords to the grindstone. With the new legislation, rental properties (now, including duplexes and single family homes) will be subject to inspection and licensure by the city. If the tenants living in another’s property are of the unruly kind and the neighbors call the police on them and a nuisance violation gets filed the property becomes subject to more frequent city inspection. So, the bottom line is—if you are a landlord, you don’t want to rent to “delinquents” or basically, those with issues.

The city, now, also, is inspecting homes for fire code occupancy violations, now duplexes and single family homes are also subject to routine inspection. There was an incident last summer with the home of an ethnic family that had caught fire. There was a fatality or two. Investigators then found that the number of occupants exceeded the occupancy code. This is not new news to those who know the living situations of new Americans.

So my neighborhood is potentially becoming more hostile to the poor, the large family, the alien and the unruly. "Problems" aren’t being solved. We’ll just push them along.

City Hall has already gotten an earful about it. Read about it here. http://www.startribune.com/462/story/943451.html I was drafted to join the line of people speaking to this issue along with this woman, but as usual, my district got the date and time confused. I suppose I can just prepare myself for a verbal jousting with the lawyer on my board, come Tuesday night, just for fun. On my board of directors, all but I voted in initial favor of this legislation. The legislation will pass and people will look for new loopholes.

I think I am sufficiently reassured that laws and legislation have its part in shifting the landscape. However, no matter how much one pushes dirt around, there is still just as much dirt in the end as when one began. Personally, I would rather be involved in the transformation of my unruly neighbor than in the force that moves them along. What one calls a problem is a matter of perspective. It could be a challenge—a challenge which calls one to rise to the occasion of loving one’s neighbor. Everyone needs redemption. Everyone needs a kinsman redeemer.

issue with getting started

For over a year now my car has had this problem where it occasionally won’t start for me. I go out in the morning. It gives me one Rrrrrrhhh and that’s it. I did have it in once but they couldn’t figure out what it was. It started just fine for them. The problem is so intermittent it’s very difficult to judge when it will happen again. It happens when it is really cold but not always. It happens in the mornings. And it never happens in the summer. But usually I can persuade it to start eventually, if I wait a minute or two to crank again. Sometimes it takes 15 minutes of persuasion.

One of my friends suggested I just get rid of my car and my truck for that matter and go buy something that runs. I’m pretty reluctant to do that, though. Because I have been with my car for a long time and now I know how to work with its little problem. It has taught me patience and persistence. There are no better promises with anything new. If I trade it in to a dealer, I’ll loose money and the dealer likely won’t fix it—rather, they might just sell it in the summer leaving someone else with the problem. My father taught me that it is unethical to do such a thing even to a stranger. Same with my truck. It is nearly dead and I can’t sell the deathtrap to anyone. I also have fond memories of it. Once, the alternator died. But it took a few discussions with my mechanic brother and father to figure that out. Meanwhile, I parked it on a hill near my house and did the "pop the clutch" thing to get it started every morning for work and to go home I rolled it down the slight incline of the faculty parking lot at work. Despite all the trouble, I couldn’t possibly be angry because the image of what I look like—in my skirt (and sandals) pushing the rusty junker down a hill—is just too funny.

A few days ago I tried to do the same thing with my car (it is also a stick). I grunted and heaved it out of its parking spot and ran it down the parking lot incline. I was exhausted by the time I got it started but I decided. This is it! I’m brining it to the service station. When I explained the problem, the guy behind the desk got all talkative and detailed and engaged me (it’s a rarity, but it happens). He told me there were two possibilities. We eliminated the one and figured out that the other problem only the dealer can solve. Then, he let me go without charging me anything! So, now I’m waiting for another cold snap, so that I can bring it in to the dealer and he can do his thing. Meanwhile, on the colder nights I’ll park on the hill.

Funny, I remember my dad parking the 4010 on the hill a lot. In fact, I think that was the tractor's permanent parking spot. I don’t know what the deal was—why dad didn’t get it fixed. Likely, he was either out of money or far too busy to address it immediately.

Admittedly, I am VERY much my father’s daughter.

BTW--this could be a parable. or if you please, I'm just babbling about myself, my car and revealing to all what kind of hickish behavior I still harbor.

church life interpreted

The symbolic significance of the potatoes is hearty spiritual sustenance. The dreamer is afraid to do the work of harvesting for spiritual nourishment for her church because of the bears. The bears represent a particular evil—the sort of evil that will rob this body of believers of its spiritual sustenance. There is no one to protect or help the narrator as he/she harvests. Pastors are busy at the carnival carts serving the food. But serving food to babies carnival style is a bit awkward or simply non-functioning. According to situational leadership theory, the wrong method is being used for the situation. Essentially, the message is: there are many baby Christians in this church and they are being served spiritual nourishment in a manner unsuited for their maturity. Additionally, these baby Christians are stinking up the place. They are not being cared for and are being left to their own devices.

The theatre itself suggests teaching framed as entertainment. The teaching includes indoctrination that accustoms the congregants to the presence of evil (the bears) among them that will rob them of their spiritual sustenance. The interesting man is the very presence/vessel of this particular evil at times. He is telling folks to not be afraid of the very thing they should be afraid of—that which robs them of their spiritual sustenance.

How would you like someone to say these things about your church—assuming that you like your church.

church life

I was at a church picnic. To prepare for it, I had been assigned the work of gathering potatoes. These potatoes were to be cooked, mashed and served. The potatoes, which had been damaged by snow, were in a garden off a main highway. The highway department had created a detour by plowing out an area near the garden. At the garden I encountered bears, who were already there digging them up and eating them. I was afraid to harvest. So, I didn’t. I went back to the picnic to tell the man who had offered to cook them that I was afraid to go near the bears.

I looked around the picnicking grounds, which were in a wooded area in the middle of the city at Hamm’s Hill. There were babies everywhere. They were in the crawling stage. They were unattended and the feces they were losing from their diapers lay everywhere. The food was set up carnival style. Vendors sold it in booths like the state fair. Everything seemed to be backwards and chaotic. I wondered, “Why did a man cook and a woman gather in a dangerous place? Why wasn’t there anyone tending to the babies? Why was the food set up carnival style with people getting chicken from one booth, walking to another booth for mashed potatoes, another for gravy, etc?”

Later, I was sitting inside a building with others who were watching videos in a theatre area of the church. Children and babies were again playing everywhere. A very friendly, interesting man sat down next to me. We talked and watched the video. Bears appeared on the video screen. They were eating potatoes. The man told me not to be afraid of bears. When I looked at him to comment, he morphed into a bear (a superficially friendly bear) and then morphed back again.

This dream was had by a friend of mine and is dedicated to Michelle, who is brave enough to share a dream that “felt” significant. It’s risky to share dreams and attribute meaning to them. Previously, I’ve been ambiguous mostly—calling them parables. It gets close to intellectual suicide. But I suppose, if challenged, I would just argue my point in uber-intellectual cant.

As for these dreams, I find them much more aggressive in their critique of the church than, say, the Church Infiltrator Series below. This one is actually directly applicable to a specific church. Keep checking up on more infiltrators. I’m working on them.

Anyone got any children I could borrow for a day?

You see, I'm remodeling my bathroom and I could use a hand. And this little girl isn't available always...

Actually, I love doing what my parents and grandparents always did. There is this memory I have of my grandpa who came to visit for a week. Grandpa was a mechanic of farming machinery and this time he decided to over-haul my dad's 4010. My younger brother, Jon, was following him around, asking a million and one questions about everything grandpa did. Every once in a while grandpa would say, “Well, Jon, now you have to wait a little while before you ask the next question.” So, grandpa had the 4010 all torn apart and had run into a glitch. He pensively stalked over to sit on a stump, striking a pose like “the thinker”, with my brother 2 steps behind. My brother, confused, looks at grandpa, asks, "What are you doing grandpa.” “vel, Jon, wir mussen hoken fur eine weile un denke.” (Well, we have to sit and think a while.)

Surprisingly, that particular brother is the family mechanic.

Likewise, I have taken it upon myself to occupy the minds and hands of children that happen to be put to my charge. While I do occupy them with the usual crayon and marker projects, I also bring them along in every day life, like my parents did. One thing I like to do with them is construction, because it blows their mind—going from a process of tearing something apart and then putting it all back together again. Once, I stripped a room down to the studs. I handed the 12 year-old neighbor girl a heavy hammer and some goggles and she tore down the whole wall of plaster and lath. And she had fun doing it.

This little girl was my shadow last Saturday. We went to buy some lumber and cement board at Menards. And we ate some candy that made our tongues funny colors.

am I saved?

Here I've posted the story of my
(a) spiritual journey
(b) coming along in faith
(c) salvation
(d) moments of gone crazy
(e) corruption
(f) fall
Take your pick. It is one of the above.

friendship

In my book, Friendship: Interpreting Christian Love, which I have been reading recently with a hungry sort of ache in my heart, I’ve been taken through a historical survey of various Western philosophers’ and theologians’ metaphysic of love, friendship and especially caritas— which is broadly defined as Christian love.

All theologians create a basic category for the God-human friendship which is rightly central or primary to all other relationships. All other friendships flow from this source, whether with fellow humans or with angels. One contrast is between friendship that is a particular loyalty to a more universal gospel command to love one’s neighbor. What Thomas Aquinas has to say about the universal effect of caritas as friendship with God is significant. It effects eternity as God is enjoined to the other through our love for God and neighbor. Our love for the stranger, for our enemy, who are our particular neighbors are essential to the salvation of them and the creation. “Friendship-love is the moral determinant of the relationship to each and every other human being.” This friendship-love is impartial and given liberally to all by those who are friends of God, or who are at one with God, essentially, in the way that he loves. In this way, friendship love cannot be exclusive and each particular friendship must hold more and more an element of the all-embracing love of humankind. Thomas does expound on the particular friendship-love relationship. However, I found the contrast in Augustine’s experience and description of particular loyalties more pronounced. Augustine’s maturation environment and public life was filled with fierce loyalties and effected by influential friends—which is to say, the friendships forged were for personal merit and power. His particular preoccupation with the nature of human relationships is evident in his writings as he moved from particular loyalties and patronage to a new ideal of Christian friendship. He longed for the joy and mutuality in particular friendships “to love and be loved in return” but also encountered the destructive nature and pain of exclusive friendships. He notes that Jesus, chose fisherman as particular friends, not senators. This seems to suggest that status has much to do with how true a friend can be. While in Christ, God so loved the world, those who participate in the fellowship of God and the saints, thus, overflow in their love to all creation.

Evil Influence #7

The Fallout from Marriage Delay. Age lessons and loss of innocence inclines singles to become more protective and less open to love. It also inflates expectations as one becomes a more fixed personality. One also ages, decreasing his/her chances in a youth obsessed culture.

Evil Influence #6

Celebrity Standard. Celebrities have multiple partners and disposable relationships, live single glamorous lifestyles, party till dawn etc. Living in the lap of luxury services and goods is the projected message and credit cards make it possible.

Church Infiltrator #5

When I was in college, there was a pastor/professor who sort of tried “converting” me. His words are etched in my brain forever. The faults of my community were very obvious to me and to him as well. So, one day we found ourselves in a conversation about the troubles of my community and the hardship it would bring to me in my life. My professor friend said to me, “Why put up with all that? You don’t need to deal with that kind of crap. Leave and take as many people with you as possible.” His advice troubled me. I didn’t take it and I am glad I didn’t. Yet this is the word of the day. “I need to take care of me.” And I shouldn’t have to suffer. If a relationship with a body of believers causes me to suffer, I am entitled to walk away for my own self preservation.

This is absolutely NOT the gospel. The gospel assumes suffering. Being with the fellowship of believers will cause great heartache and pain. We are not entitled to a life free of suffering and emotional pain.

Evil Influence #5

“Why Suffer?” Mentality. The lack of Suffering and the inclination and opportunity to leave a situation of discomfort and suffering is the entitlement of GenX. True GenXers truly believe they are entitled to fun and easy relationships without challenge and work.

Church Infiltrator #4

Traditional male-female roles in the church are becoming less and less defined or an arena of great tension as the sexes battle over the paradigm for relating. Bottom line is things aren’t categorically clear and confusion of expectations is the least of the issues. Since the door has become more open to women co-laboring in the kingdom alongside men—there are plenty of linked issues that crop up. Some men are visibly terrified of what a relationship with a female co-laborer in the church might come to—numerous sex-scandals in the church to blame. I sense a significantly less tense environment in my community work, likely because if worst case scenario occurred, people care less. The church is held to a much higher standard.

Some women try to make themselves into men, in order to share the “power”. I’ve seen women leaders within the church fight to maintain their status as rational creatures and intellectual equals able and willing to work alongside men. Some women have turned into E woman personalities (stands for the Everything woman—this is my pitfall). Others disassociate themselves from their gender. I saw one bad example of a married woman with children attempting to disassociate herself from the nursery and establish herself as a intellectual equal to men. She was introducing herself to the congregation from the pulpit with her husband and children beside her. “I love my children, but I don’t like babies,” were her exact words. Instead she liked books, ministry, theology etc. It was ugly.

In the church there is a lot of tension and confusion with respect to gender and gender roles, to say the least. This is unfortunate, since God created man and woman (and the relating of the two) in his own image.

Evil Influence #4

Inadvertent Effects of Feminism. Traditional roles in dating are eradicated resulting in confusion of expectations regarding roles and inflated expectations of marriage. There is a tendency for both genders to learn both traditional gender skills, leaving one without the “need”(hence the motivation) for a partner to function in day to day survival.

Church Infiltrator #3

What is a church Divorce? Excommunication—Amish style. I’ve experienced that. But most evangelicals have experience something comparable: membership and non-membership. Perhaps it is more rightly referred to as exclusion and inclusion. Every society and social group and church has it, whether or not it is as spelled out as the sensationalized ritual of excommunication. I’ve also been “excommunicated” from a mega-church. After some very intimate fellowship there came a time when they simply failed to acknowledge my existence. It was as though I had evaporated.

Membership is a formality. Loyalty is a misnomer. Churches don’t really deal with day-to-day resolution of interpersonal issues. Usually, the best people can do is ignore the issues and if they get bad enough, they walk away and have higher expectations of the next congregation they attempt to join.

There are however, two categories that have been shaking out for me. There are those who recognize the lack of relational faithfulness and struggle with changing it and then there are those who simply follow the broken relational model unreflectively out of an urge to self-protect. The later are like the unconverted. They have not yet seen the light.

All in all, comparatively, I would rather be excommunicated by the Amish Mennonites than to be “beamed out” by the mainline Protestants. There was no struggle to acknowledge, I suddenly failed to exist. Comparably, I was able to feel like I still existed within Beachy excommunication because there was yet communication. I watched my parents’ struggle for 20 some years in the church I grew up in. They didn’t abandon the struggle.

Divorce is simply unresolved conflict which has severed human growth in relationship. We don’t know how the resolve conflict on and interpersonal, familial, social network or a national level. The church is no different.

Evil Influence #3

The Divorce Effect. Products of divorce leads one to be skeptical of marriage and children. Children of divorce lack examples of differences that have been worked out in place of walked away from. It also increases the pressure for those looking to find the perfect one, when one could focus energy on becoming the right one.

Church Infiltrator #2

Multiple Choice Church. The choices of varieties and brands of churches are daunting. Their poster cover is the Sunday morning service. And then there are the varieties of programs available. You can go here for this small group and go there for that teaching. Information and healing and councelling and stuff here and stuff there. I just want a real, sincere relationship with brother and sister in Christ. But the lure of new and exciting experiences or teachings here and there tempt me to the hunt.

Evil Influence #2

Multiple Choice Culture. Potential choices in partners are expanded with technological advancement. Checklists become more detailed. Time for a true encounter becomes more veiled. Results leave us with a mode of operation resulting in commodification, impatience with a true potential mate. The promise of eternal options lure one out of solid commitments.

Church Infiltrator #1

This is the ultimate blasphemy, which turns church from worshiping God to worshiping the self. Church is supposed to be about filling my needs. I left that one church because it wasn’t filling my needs. It wasn’t servicing me in the way I needed to be serviced. Ah!! Yikes! When the self is the only driving reason, the point of the “fellowship of believers” and “the marriage supper of the lamb” is entirely missed. When the Sunday morning service gets likened to a gas station where I can get my spiritual tank filled, I get a little wigged out. Then there are the reasons for why we miss gathering together with the fellowship of believers—they simply demonstrates vividly what is important to us. I too like my self-centered Christian brothers and sisters am guilty as charged.

Evil Influence #1

The Cult of I. The focus ultimately rests on personal needs, wants, goals and feelings. Educational, financial, career goals are prioritized above marriage as well as relational goals and expectations. GenX has taken the heritage of self-orientation to an extreme new level.

UnHooked Generation: The truth about why we're still single.

I recently read a book that I found quite interesting and on target, which also demonstrates what I like about Western culture so much. As distinguished from every other culture, Western culture does a thorough analysis of whatever thing and then comes up with a concise report of findings. This is especially true in topics pertaining to self-analysis, which is very nice for me, because it gives an outsider like me all the insider “secrets” and because I like directness.

My roommate, also enjoyed this book, and she is exceedingly critical and hard to impress. Her comments ran along the lines of “...someone is saying (this) about our culture? Let’s give her a prize. She is brilliant.” I too think it an interesting read, just from the fact that the author is not Christian--at least she doesn't claim to be.

I thought I could share my notes on the book and add my furthermores. While this book is a self-help for singles, the same concepts and “Evil Influences” apply to other arenas of life, such as, another subtitle could be, The truth about why we are still unchurched. I thought my furthermores could include how each evil influence effects our relationship to the body of Christ.

if you think you are humble...

Try repenting of a wrong you have done to someone, who you believe has done you much more wrong, than you have done her.

Try acknowledging you have learned an important piece of wisdom from someone with low status amongst your peers.

Try to withhold yourself from blaming others for the problem and instead figure out how you could have been the solution to the issue that arose.

Try withholding from giving an extensive, defensive explanation about a misunderstanding someone had about you that has cast you in a negative light.

Try admitting you are hurt.

Try just saying sorry, even though it wasn’t technically your fault.