I'm Not Icharus

Moving to WordPress

2010-02-14T16:45:00.003-07:00

Hello readers, fans, and family,

This will be the last post of theloweshow. For various reasons, I have moved my blog to WordPress at the following address:

http://thedanloweshow.wordpress.com

So, come with me and follow the changes! I'm looking forward to seeing you there.

Peace.
Dan Lowe

Running Down Rabbit Trails

2010-01-16T16:28:00.006-07:00

I feel distracted as of late; although, from what, I am not entirely sure. Lately, I have been distracting myself with fantasies and dreams that are empty promises and vanity. Maybe "distracted" isn't the right word, as much as I feel as though I have something to confront, yet I'm not confronting it.
It is not as though I am fleeing it like the plague; instead, I'm dancing around it, poking sticks at it each time I muster the courage to look at it head on. The fantasies and the vanity are ways to numb the reminder, probably the ever poking, though ever loving, guiding-into-all-truth, finger of God's Spirit. Then there are the mental rabbit trails I take in order to walk (run) away from the confrontation, yet, in their own furry, little, twiggy piercing, ironic way, they all lead back to this thing I keep being reminded to confront.
Is it sin? Yes, partially so; though I think it does me (and God?) a dishonor to take the reductionist approach. Is it a control issue? Again, partially, as I just found out I'm being laid off and only have one week of work left. Worry? Fear? Misconstrued identity issues? I'm not 100% sure, but I sure am coming up with a long list of dancing partners that I'd rather leave in the bleachers or as observing wall flowers, too timid to approach me. Instead, it's as though they lead in the dance, and I follow.
Someone once wrote, "Search me and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." It's a prayer from the Psalms in the Hebrew scriptures, most often attributed to David. He knew who he was dancing with, who was leading him on the gym-turned-dance floor. And, as do I, he knew that our dance partner had the ability to see right into the depths of who he was.
I believe that the Spirit of God is my dance partner; although, what I am learning is that 99% of the time, he is actually carrying the entire dance, and it's not limited to a high-school gym floor or the four step box move. I know that he's dancing me toward this confrontation, and I know that it is his Spirit that disallows the rabbit trails to go too far, like a divine chaperon who won't let me stray too far away.
Yet, when I have the courage to look at the mosaic that is this as-of-yet unnamed thing, my courage fizzles away like steam when, on the opposite side, whatever direction I am facing, I see the image, not of a loving dance partner but of a vengeful, judgmental god, ready and willing to condemn, at the least, whatever is "sinful" in my life.
I know, in my head and the deepest parts of my heart, that this image is the reflection of a god whose trust and love I used to believe, as a teenager, I had to earn in order to keep my ass out of the fiery flames of his wrath.** Yet, adolescent ghosts aren't so easily exorcised, even when the truth of a God who desires love and life for all he has created has oftentimes flooded one's entire being. I feel like the woman who cleaned her house of demons, made sure to put God back into God's proper place, but when they returned, they still lurked in the shadows of her front and back yard, hiding behind trees and dancing with the plethora of other demons they brought back with them from the abyss. No longer harmful but casting a long shadow in the moon light. Like bogey men who hide in the closets of the minds and imaginations of children.
And so I find that I lack the courage to stand there in front of this thing that could be something that exposes me. However, I'm not so fearful as to think that whatever it is might be all negative, hurtful, sinful, etc. But, until I find the courage, or until I run out of the energy to keep taking rabbit trails or numbing the feelings, I won't know the goodness that I hope for yet cannot see.
So, "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the dance everlasting." Amen.

** Much thanks to the ill-informed, though good hearted and well intentioned folks who brought me up in a fairly traditional/legalistic with a twist of fundamental Christianity. Your whispers still haunt my dreams.

Some Initial Thoughts

2010-01-09T20:50:00.005-07:00

Below are some initial thoughts that I hope will eventually become a full blog post. They come in response to this article on the emergent church. Jeanine, her sister, and I have all posted there. Here are some of my initial thoughts and responses:

1) The emergent church (Emergent Village, various authors who I will for now leave unnamed, etc) seems to be a response to the institutional church in many regards; however, the main proponents, authors, and leaders are Western, middle to upper middle class men and women. For me, this is a bit frustrating. Where are the other voices and how are these other voices influencing the conversation regarding change in the Church?

2) Phyllis Tickle has remarked that Emergence Christianity of the 20th and 21st centuries is similar to the Protestant Reformation in that there are various manifestations. In her own words, " Emergent Christianity is one-but only one- portion or presentation of Emergence Christianity. Emerging is another, so is Missional Church, so is new-monasticism, so is Fresh Expressions etc., etc. Protestantism was never limited to a Baptist pov or a Lutheran one or a Presbyterian one etc., etc. Nor did all those component parts within Protestantism follow the same precise maturation patterns. Neither will the components of Emergence Christianity." I am concerned that, just as those within the Protestant Reformation, in most if not all ways, failed to speak out against the atrocities of colonialism in all its respects, so Emergence Christianity will fail to speak out, in any significant way, in regard to the atrocities that continue in regard to neo-colonialism, imperialism, and the Western approach for domination in all areas of the world. The reason for this? It would appear that those in emergent simply navel gaze and fail to see beyond the own purview of their own worldview or their own conversations regarding what they and their fellow emergent(ers) are doing and are involved in. Again, if we are seeking change in the church, why do the majority of the conversations seem to happen between those who share the same worldview? Where are the voices of those who do not share that worldview?

3) How can one hope to remodel the structure of the church if they are simply moving the proverbial furniture from one room to another? To quote Audre Lorde, "The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house." If the emergent folk (along with missional, new monastic, etc.) hope to bring lasting transformation, then they must look beyond their own Western, philosophical worldview. The best way to do so is to both offer room at the table for those with a differing worldview as well as offer concrete recognition to the worth of what they have to offer.

In Lux Lucis

2010-01-03T13:04:00.007-07:00

Holy One of God, in darkness and in light
may I be found wholly dwelling in thee.
When sin I find knocking at my door,
stand guard, for there is much weakness in me.
Though my mind be foggy from past mistakes,
and my thoughts bent toward breaking your good law,
may it be your Spirit by which I decide
to submit to you and from this withdraw.
Since I find this battle raging all 'round
may I be found wholly dwelling in thee,
not by my power nor by my own might,
but only in you dwelling eternally.

In your light alone do I find my life,
free from these frustrations and all this strife.

Plastic Guardians

2010-01-02T11:34:00.003-07:00

When will the time come when you cease to feel
as though you stand at the door, hand on the knob,
as keeper of endless possibility?
You won't even turn the deadbolt for me.
I have waited and watched you for some time -
a hired hand whose wages have run out.
Won't you relinquish your throne to us now
and let your dead legacy simply die?
Let them see you turn power upside down
and tip the balance to an even scale;
it is in your grasp to turn this thing 'round,
one last hurrah for the defeated crown.

Your revolution cracked the door a hair;
though you never moved, never learned how to share.

You Can't Put this Underneath the Tree

2009-12-25T16:35:00.007-07:00

Well, the time for reading the story of Jesus' coming and birth has come and gone. We were entertained last night at a small country church with old hymns and some amazing talent (I only dozed off about five times). The time for presents has come and gone, yet something lingers. As it has for the past two years, I cannot shake the ghosts of Christmases past.

For the last two years, I have not been in Florida for Christmas. I have spent Christmas with Jeanine and her family, participating in her family's traditions, borrowing from and inheriting some of them. I'm not sure that we've borrowed from any of my family's Christmas traditions; although, I wonder to a certain degree if we could actually call to mind any definitive traditions. I remember opening one Christmas present before bedtime on Christmas Eve, following the church service we'd attended. I think we would eat around noon, usually as a family, and I think that there was a Christmas movie, at the theater, thrown in there somewhere. Apparently, even though I struggled to see it, spending time together on Christmas day seems to have been an unspoken tradition for my family.

My reflections for the past few days have been directed toward the regret I feel toward my behavior as a teenager during the Christmas season. In looking back, I can see images of being concerned with what I was getting, with getting exactly what I wanted, and the behavior that ensued as a result of that goal or the result of not attaining that goal. My behavior during the Christmas season was very much material oriented rather than Christ, or other, oriented. Presently, I still do not know how to react when given a gift by someone, whether I enjoy the gift or not. Sure, I can say "thank you so much," but I don't have a poker face to save my life. I deeply struggled with this when my grandparents on my dad's side would purchase gifts for me and my sister. Their hearts were deeply rooted in the right place, but their gifts were always two or thee years behind the ages we actually were at the given time. And again, I can remember some of my responses, and they pain me today.

If I'm not careful, and sometimes I'm not, this reminiscing can quickly cast a dark shade over the entire Christmas experience. I find myself becoming cynical about the entire thing, reminding myself that Jesus of Nazareth was more than likely actually born in April, that Christmas was a contextualized pagan holiday, and that the wise men weren't about to march through the desert in the middle of December.

Yet, in the midst of all of this struggle, I am deeply deeply grateful for my wife and the magic that she spreads during the Christmas season. For her, Christmas is about the entire year; she is constantly looking for this or that little knick knack for her family, squirreling it away until it's time to wrap it for Christmas. And when December comes, she gets this twinkle in her eye that isn't even effected by my darkest anti-Christmas sentiments. She decorates the tree three weeks early; she puts up the Christmas candles, ornaments on the tree, and her cooking fills the house with all sorts of Christmas wonders. She is overcome with such a joy that not even her roughest day at work can overshadow it; she just deeply loves Christmas and everything for which this season stands. I love the innocence with which she loves this season, and I look forward with growing excitement to the time when she can pass on that innocent giddiness and deep joy to our children, helping them to know that Christmas is about much more than what comes under the tree, wrapped in shiny paper, and taped with a gift receipt just in case.

I am grateful for everything that my parents gave me in regard to Christmas - the traditions, the gifts, the cookies and fudge. I struggle with what to do with the regretful memories, but I am more and more grateful for my wife's ability to help me create new memories that will one day overshadow old memories with the light of love that twinkles so brightly in her eyes during the last month of each year.

I love you, Jeanine.
Merry Christmas!!

Wintry Wondering Home

2009-12-15T14:13:00.007-07:00

Brakes to the floor send me sliding,
careening toward the snow packed median.
No matter. The gas gauge reads almost empty,
though I'm not walking away; that would be too far.
Stuck in the middle, stuck in the snow and cold,
heated by the last gas dregs, I shiver as I imagine
what it might mean to move my legs
and walk back toward the place from whence I've come.
The lights are there, but the city seems so far.
The gas gauge reflects my heart; not fully but nearly empty.
There is warmth there and food; there is nothing in this median
but an empty memory of a rapid slipping and sliding,
moving further and faster away from the place whence I've come.
Before I realized I had moved my legs,
I was driving faster than I could imagine.
Now here I am, headed home, on a road without exits, in the cold.

Wintry Wondering Away

2009-12-12T10:18:00.007-07:00

I’m driving east headed away from you.
Snowblind drives push me away from the center
and the car is slipping on this icy road.
I’m bent toward the wrong direction,
headed for the shoulder that is disconnected
from any hand holding me in this storm.
My white knuckles match what’s covering this road,
and I am insistently pressing for the center,
gripping the steering wheel that’s my last connection to you.
And, unless there is intervention or an eye in the storm,
I'm going to keep headed for disconnected.
I'm screaming for exit but seeing none headed in this direction.

Questions and Reflections

2009-12-10T23:01:00.004-07:00

For the past few weeks, Jeanine and I have been throwing around the idea of changing Sunday congregational gatherings; however, we don't want to be "consumeristic" Christians, hopping from congregation to congregation simply because "our needs aren't being met." However, we're struggling with finding "place" in the Sunday congregation we currently find ourselves a part of. There are, or so it seems to us, some pretty hard pressing issues regarding the congregation and our various interactions with persons in the congregation, primarily regarding a latent anti-intellectualism; yet, we're not sure what to do about it. So, after having thought about this, and praying in regards to it, for a few weeks, I've compiled a list of reflection questions that you'll find below. Please feel free to comment.

In regard to the Sunday congregational gathering that we attend:

1) What does it mean to be faithful, or to practice faithfulness, in a congregational setting when that setting:

A) does not act as a primary source for Christian community?
B) does not seem to, generally speaking, honor our gifts and talents?

Yet

A) provides space for congregational worship (primarily through music)?
B) provides opportunity to see friends we do not often see?

2) Why does making a decision regarding where to attend a Sunday congregational gathering bother me so much?
3) Are we asking too much of the church we attend when we ask to be stimulated intellectually?
4) Are we asking too much when we ask church leadership to be faithful to the biblical text in relation to their own cultural bias when interpreting that text?
5) Are we expecting too much, or assuming too much, when we hope that the congregation is not playing into the sheep/shepherd mentality* in regards to their pastors?
6) When does one choose to leave, realizing that every body of Christian believers has difficulties, and how does one leave well?

*The mentality that one blindly follows leadership because of charismatic personalities, pastoral gifts, etc. without attempting to study Scripture for themselves, question the teaching and authority of leadership, etc.

Feels Like Saturday

2009-11-25T22:31:00.004-07:00

Lately, it would seem as though I have not had much time for any type of reflection. My life has been sans Scripture reading, sans meditation, very little prayer, and, to be honest, I feel like I'm living in a perpetual Saturday-after-the-crucifixion. My liturgical life consists of a short breath prayer every morning right before work, specifically for safety for our crew and for shared workmanship while at the job site. Trust me, after falling ten feet onto a concrete slab a couple of weeks ago, prayers for safety are no joke.

Tonight, I caught about fifteen minutes to just reflect on my life as it currently stands. I have felt lately as though my creative juices are drying up like a river in a hot desert, so I tried my damnedest just to imagine something. I don't know how you feel about visions, and I'm not entirely sure it was a vision, as much as I was so desperate to imagine myself in the story of Scripture that my mind created the image I'm about to describe. I suppose it doesn't really matter; the significance is in the meaning, not necessarily in the source of the mental movie. What I saw was me, walking through what would have been a first century village, walking near places like the pool of Siloam or what could have been the well where Jesus talked to the Samaritan woman. I felt very much alone, weeping as I remembered, as though I were one of his disciples, the amazing times we had had following Jesus, hearing his stories, watching him heal people, and even eating dinner with some of the lowest of society. Those were the good ol' times. But today is Saturday and he's dead and I'm alone, fairly certain that the authorities have stopped looking for us, and I'm just wandering these streets and back alleys, remembering the past two or three years of my life, wondering how I'm going to fill my empty stomach. With Jesus around, there never was a lack for fish and bread. But today, no one is around. Some of the other followers just returned to their work, but I was just a wandering beggar before I fell in with Jesus and the other rabble that followed him. He healed me of a blindness I'd had since birth; he also healed me of my inability to see others beyond my own nose. He healed me of a lot of things to be honest; his love and tender care were sometimes more powerful than that first instance of being able to see light and colors and people; although, the people were kind of fuzzy at first. I had never been loved like that. But now he's dead; his tomb is just around the corner there. The authorities crucified him yesterday. He's just there, or somewhere I suppose; I never really picked up on his messages of the afterlife; I think I was probably too busy noticing everything for the first time in my life. He's dead, but I can still see. He's there in that tomb, of which I can see the stone rolled in front of; although, I'm not sure why there are guards there. Stupid authorities, always suspicious of the next would-be-messiah and his followers. Oh well, love your enemies. It was easier to ignore them when I couldn't see them, but, one thing Jesus did do when he was alive was to show an example of what it really meant to love. I tried my hardest to pick up on that one. Oh well, everyone has to be suspicious of one thing or another, I suppose. Me, I'm a little suspicious and curious regarding the mysterious mumbo-jumbo Jesus kept talking about like resurrection and coming back to life. I might have new eyes, but I'm not entirely sure I'll see that one in my life time. But, it would be great to see him again. To hear his voice, to feel his hand on my eyes, to smell the salt air in his hair after he'd been down by the sea for the night. Maybe we would go over to Levi's house and grab a bite to eat. Either way, I don't have to have eyes to see that my stomach is empty. I'll come back to the tomb tomorrow to pay my respects; I think some of the women are planning on coming with some perfumes and whatnot for the body. Peter said something about possibly stopping by but only under cover of darkness. That guy is super scared to get caught by the authorities; he should be, with that great big mouth of his. Oh well, if they come by, I'll just join them. For now, I'm going to find something to eat.

And, so, for the time being, I find myself in a perpetual Saturday. Jesus is dead it feels like most days, but I am still healed and the memories of our times together are enough to carry me through until Sunday. Fortunately, hindsight is 20/20, and even an old, blind beggar like me can see that Saturday won't last forever.

Returning to Wonder Through the Eucharist

2009-10-18T21:33:00.005-06:00

"The inability to fully know God is not the source of eternal frustration; rather, the experience of eternal contemplation is fulfilling in itself. In [Thomas] Aquinas's words: 'Nothing can be wearisome that is wonderful to him that looks on it, because as long as we wonder at it, it still moves our desire. Now the created intellect always looks with wonder on the divine substance, since no created intellect can comprehend it. Therefore, the intellectual sub-stance cannot possibly become weary of that vision.' In Aquinas's description of the beatific vision, the human faculties remain active and find happiness in the unceasing activity of contemplating God. God's overabundant nature remains incomprehensible as it forever moves the intellect's desire to know it and satisfies the mind in the experience of wonder. Even in the eschaton—in "salvation" or "heaven"—humanity enjoys an everdeepening coming-to-know-God that is never exhausted. The human posture toward the incomprehensible mystery of God does not aim to control or reach exhaustive comprehension; rather, the goal is wonder itself. (Fletcher, Jeanine Hill. The Lion, the Wicked, and The Wonder of it All. 2007).

What does wonder do? What is the purpose?
We sometimes have experiences in life that are “mountain top,” in which we experience God in a very profound, powerful, moving way. However, most of life is made up of mundane, routine experiences in which we can easily get lost, forgetting or neglecting to see not only what is right in front of us but also what is to the left and right of us, behind us, above us, and below us. The business of life easily becomes the busy(ness) of life. To return to a sense of wonder is to welcome the Holy Spirit’s ability to intercept our vision in order to realign our sight to see everything around us. In so doing, the Spirit of God repositions us to experience the presence of God in everything created. As we reflect and meditate on God as we see him in Scripture, creation begins to reflect back to us what our minds are meditating upon as we read.

So what?
The original intent of God’s plan was that we would live with him and others in relationship, in creation, experiencing all of the glories that he had created. Obviously, we experienced a bit of a bump in the road and, now, both humanity and creation itself experience the effects of the fall. Fortunately, that speed bump will be leveled out in the culmination of all things, but for now, we still experience separation from God’s original intentions. However, taking the time to wonder at creation, to meditate upon what we see reflected in it, we can catch glimpses, though through a glass darkly, of what was the original intention.

Now what?
When we partake of the body and blood of Christ in communion, we should be encouraged to wonder at what is around us. What do you see to your left, to your right? What do you see out the window? What do you smell? What do you taste? What do you hear? Everything that our senses experience in creation was made through Jesus. In Colossians, Paul writes, “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (Colossians 1:19-20).

Therefore, as we partake in communion, let us remember that God has reconciled to himself all things through the broken body and poured out blood of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Musings on Recent Events

2009-10-08T17:58:00.003-06:00

Well, I'm tired after another day of work. That's right, I am, finally, able to work in Canada. After a year of moving through the immigration process, not being able to work, and watching God provide for me and Jeanine in truly amazing ways, I am now gainfully employed with a house framing company in Edmonton called Beam Craft Construction. A typical day begins at 5:45am when I wake up, take a shower, eat breakfast, read a chapter in Acts, and head off to whatever house we're working on. The work day begins at 7am and ends at 5:30pm, which ends up being a ten hour day. Five days a week. This is quite the difference from doing a whole lot of nothing for an entire year.

In the past week and a half that I have been working, I have been amazed by what God has truly provided in this new part of our journey. Beam Craft Construction is owned by Jason Beamish; he and two other of our crew members are followers of Jesus (John and Julius). This is truly amazing, as the construction industry rarely has companies that are owned and operated by Christians. The company that I worked for in Kentucky, Absher Building and Custom Contracting was also a Christian owned and operated company. It's awesome to be able to be at work and still discuss meaningful and real life issues even on the job site. Granted, we don't always agree on everything, but that makes it all the more fun! Not only is this a bonus, I have found that the work keeps me in a constant state of humility. On most days, I am the oldest person on site; other than the owner, Jason, and one other crew member, everyone else is under thirty. It hasn't been extremely difficult, though it has been odd taking orders from those younger than myself. However, I figure if I don't know something, it's safer for me to ask questions, especially on a construction job site. I thought about this today, as I realized that all leaders must learn how to be followers as well. This doesn't necessarily mean that they are following in the same area of their life that they are leading; there simply needs to be a place in their life where they are willing to adjust their leadership mentality to a follower mentality.

I am still working with My People International, part time. Jeanine and I have had wonderful opportunities in the past year to watch God move in incredible ways in the lives of various friends and family members in the global indigenous community. I suppose that, were I into putting labels on my life, I would say that I am currently in the business of tent making. Paul, on his missionary journeys, would sometimes make tents in order to provide for the work he was doing for God's kingdom in various cities, thus the term "tentmaker."

Jeanine and I are extremely grateful for this new part of the journey; we now move from a one income family to a two income family. Although it has been a blessed year, it has also had many moments of trying situations where our faith was bent, stretched, and shredded in many different ways. We are deeply grateful that the God we serve is extremely patient and understanding as regards growth pains, times of doubt, and struggle in the lives of his children. If God has gray hair, I'm sure that we added a few to his glorious head.

There is much more to blog about, but as I am tired, I will end here. It's just been quite a while since I have blogged, and I wanted to update on the good things that Jeanine and I are experiencing lately.

Reflections on My Own Limitations

2009-09-24T23:07:00.005-06:00

I cannot love you any more today;
your investments have all dried up, and now
my last exchange with you is to say goodbye
and watch you walk away with Narcissus.
I bid you farewell and wish you no harm,
only that which breaks you against a stone
and shatters the vain image of yourself
that you purchased for the price of your soul.
Should you request my help, no offer stands.
This heart and these hands have reached their limit,
and lest a power greater than mine
should change that, I bid you farewell dear friend.

If there is no cycle of give and take,
then the bond proves to be weak, if not fake.

Reflections on the Fragmentation of Society: Car Alarms

2009-09-22T10:18:00.006-06:00

"Distance negates responsibility" - Guy Davenport

For the past two evenings, as Jeanine and I lie in bed reading, a car alarm has gone off somewhere in our neighborhood. This is no surprise, as Edmonton usually has a rash of car break ins once or twice a month. I don't know if it has been the same car each time, but it has, both times, taken the owner nearly ten minutes to silence the loud, obnoxious noise coming from the vehicle.

For the past two evenings, following the cacophony of noise ripping through the evening air, I have wondered quite a bit about car alarms. About the why of them, the inferred side effects, and the results of their loud, obnoxious sirens. That people have to have car alarms due to the greed, violence, and other vices rampant in our world today, is disturbing.

I suppose the why is fairly obvious - so other people won't break in and steal possessions. Or the car for that matter. Yet, when I lie in bed and consider the why of the car alarm, I am disheartened. Sure, in a world of greed and theft, it is probably important to guard one's possessions from thieves. But, that little red or blue light in the dashboard doesn't only say "stay away" to the bad guys. It's like a big blinking sign that says "HANDS OFF!!" or "Get the hell away from me and my things!" to everyone within walking distance. I wonder if it also acts as a passive means by which persons can keep other people at arms length, so that they have to admire the shiny car with the blue blinking light from far away.

Thus, the inferred side effects of the car alarm begin to spread with each blink of that little blue light. People stay further away; when the key clicker makes its bling bling sound, sure, people look, but sometimes they also steer clear. And, instead of waving to one's neighbors and announcing that the car alarm has, once again, done its job (or not, as is the case in my neighborhood), folks climb into their cars and drive away. I sometimes wonder if the term "Neighborhood Watch" didn't become a catch phrase for thieves looking for the weakest neighborhoods, those wherein neighbors didn't watch out for other neighbors' belongings. Have car alarms done away with the responsibility of one's neighbor to watch out for the benefit of their fellow human being?

And, as I lie here in bed, I wonder if the alarm siren is the requiem of a connected society. And as I roll over to go to sleep, I wonder whether or not someone, who seems to isolate themselves behind alarms, has had their car broken in to, or if someone else simply walked to close to the car. Tonight, I will fall asleep to the sound of an obnoxious siren that draws both attention and people to a little blinking light that continues to flash, "Get away!"

A Readable, Informative, and Educational Blog

2009-09-12T12:00:00.005-06:00

Allen Benjamin Johnson III

For anyone who might be interested, a friend of mine in Washington, D.C. writes an academic blog on religion, culture, and the Middle East over at wordpress.com. Though academic, Allen's blog is quite readable and informative. Covering both history and the present and helping to interpret both in light of current events, even sometimes whispering of what might happen in the near future, Allen's understanding of religion, culture, and the Middle East opens a window for those who may not understand the relationship between the West and the Middle East. His writing is accessible, educational, and helpful. Should his novel read the same way, I doubt not it's value and popularity in an America mostly ignorant of the reasons behind the issues at hand. To read Allen's blog, go here:

http://nottheology.wordpress.com/

Prayer and Reorientation

2009-09-10T18:16:00.002-06:00

To be honest, I don't entirely understand how prayer works. I am actually probably less understanding of this than I allow others to see. Yet, I do know and believe that there is power in prayer. God responds to it, as is clearly evident in Scripture; though, as some seem to think, I do not believe that prayer somehow controls God nor do I think that a lack thereof hinders God. Moreover, I believe and think that prayer changes and transforms the person praying, especially when praying from a place of deep despair. Praying reorients the heart and mind in such a way that the person praying finds him/herself in a place where he/she admits that he/she is incapable of doing anything about that for which they are praying. It is our confession that we need God to move in, take control of, hold onto, etc. whatever circumstance for which we are in prayer. I wonder, therefore, if prayer isn't the ultimate act of humility toward God?
To "seek God with all of my heart" while praying means that, with all of my heart, I admit that I am helpless in that given situation. If this is the case, and I hope, for me, that it is, then this reorients the person praying. It flips one's perspective of being in control of, or being able to cause some outcome to happen, on its head, as it places the person in a humble position of inability and God in the place of absolute capability.
Interestingly enough though, the person praying does not remain in a place of humiliating servitude. Maybe it is God's grace or God's desire that we work alongside God, but in the act of praying, we become, when rightly situated, workers with God in the situations for which we are praying. Moreover, there are times when we find God using us in ways beyond our praying, as we literally walk with those for whom we pray or in those circumstances for which we pray.
Is this the reason why church history has coupled the disciplines or prayer and Scripture reading/study? For, as we pray and walk with God in the working out of his will in the lives of people and circumstances in this world/creation, we are in need of rightly conducting our lives, whatever "rightly" might mean. Therefore, unless we know that Scripture instructs us to be generous, how will we know to be, in our own lives, generous with the impoverished? Or, if I am praying for Jeanine and am unaware, due to a lack of Scripture study/reading, that she is to be honored, adored, and cared for in ways beyond what is obvious, how then will I know to do so?
I have always known, since becoming a follower of Jesus, that prayer and Scripture reading/study were necessary. I think, though, that I often forget that they go like hand in glove in order that we may, when rightly situated, work with God to participate in the transformation of not only peoples' lives but of the world.

Leave Me Here to Live

2009-09-10T10:27:00.003-06:00

Sometimes maybe escaping wouldn't be so bad,
just rip off this shell and shed these clothes
it wouldn't be such a drag to fly around the morning sky.

I already feel like so many eyes see right through me,
I'm simply a walking shade with a bleeding heart,
dreaming that love might really be able to change the world.

Don't forget the middle button or to tighten the knot
when you dress me up with your preconceived notions
and leave me in the suit that fits your fancy,

but don't be surprised when my blood and guts explode
and your carpet is ruined in one felled swoop
on the day I miss the rapture I'm not really deeply hoping for.

Hidden Inhibitions

2009-08-18T08:42:00.004-06:00

Darkness cradles the unborn of Thought,
and secrets hide where light surely cannot dwell.
In places where memory ought to but does not
there lies a deep and dry and empty well.
There is a place where we dare not turn our heads
for what we fear to see may be exposed.
It is safer to fall asleep in our beds,
rather than to have those whispers disclosed.
Instead, we modify our position,
the slightest turn of a shaded red cheek,
so as to deny our position
and lay it off onto some other freak.
Inhibition hides the darkest shadows
'til it is shattered when the truth flows.

2009-08-17T13:19:00.005-06:00

To borrow from Augustine, my least favorite of the Church Fathers, I'd like to make this my prayer. Remembering that all my life is in the hands of God, that no matter what happens this Wednesday morning, the morning of my immigration interview, God is still God and I am still his servant. My days, my breath, my life is in his hands; therefore, with what little faith I have in this regard, I cast off this worry, doubt, and fear into those trustworthy hands.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

It is now my joy to put away what I formerly feared to lose. Cast this away from me, O true and highest Sweetness. Cast this away and, in its place, enter in thyself - sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mystery; more exalted than all honor, though not to them that are exalted in their own eyes. Now, free my soul from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, of wallowing in the mire and scratching the itch of lust. You are my Lord, my God - my light, my riches, and my salvation.

Amen.

More from Vanier's "Community and Growth"

2009-08-13T21:20:00.003-06:00

Community is the place where our limitations, our fears and our egoism are revealed to us. We discover our poverty and our weaknesses, our inability to get on with some people, our mental and emotional blocks, our affective or sexual disturbances, our seemingly insatiable desires, our frustrations and jealousies, our hatred and our wish to destroy. While we are alone, we could believe we loved everyone. Now that we are with others...we realise how incapable we are of loving, how much we deny to others, how closed in on ourselves we are. And if we are incapable of loving, what is left? There is nothing but despair, anguish, and the need to destroy. Love then appears to be an illusion. We are condemned to inner isolation and death.
So community life brings a painful revelation of our limitations, weaknesses and darkness; the unexpected discovery of the monsters within us is hard to accept. The immediate reaction is to try to destroy the monsters, or to hide them away again, pretending that they don't exist. Or else we try to flee from community life and relationships with others, or to assume that the monsters are theirs, not ours. It is the others who are guilty, not us.

One Heart, One Soul, One Spirit - Quote from Jean Vanier

2009-08-05T10:30:00.003-06:00

"Our universe is filled with so many species of animals, birds, fish, flowers, fruits and plants; each one is the work of God's hands. It is the same with families, tribes, clans and communities of people. Each one is the work of his love. There is no one family that has all the truth. They are all called to live together in harmony, to share their beautiful gifts and to receive the gifts of others; to discover the height and the depth, the width and the breadth of the wisdom, the beauty and the love of our God.
So often, alas, groupings do not work together for the glory of God. They close themselves off one from another, each one certain that they are the chosen people, the beloved of God, the special community that will renew the face of the earth; that they are the best and they alone have the truth. They do not realize that everyone is special; everyone is called to manifest a particle of the glory of God - in communion with others. When they do not work together, groups create apartheid. Walls are built up between them, rivalry and competition set in. This leads to jealousy, which in turn, leads to hatred and warfare. Thus what began so beautifully ends up so horribly. Religious and political groupings (just as clubs and other groups) become filled with the desire 'to win,' to beat others, to prove they are right through powerful means. They become blinded by their own concerns and desire for power (or fear of death); they are unable to see and appreciate the beauty of others.
Communities are truly communities when they are open to others, when they remain vulnerable and humble; when the members are growing in love, in compassion and in humility. Communities cease to be such when members close in upon themselves with the certitude that they alone have wisdom and truth and expect everyone to be like them and learn from them.
The fundamental attitudes of true community, where there is true belonging, are openness, welcome, and listening to God...to each other, and to other communities. Community life is inspired by the universal and is open to the universal. It is based on forgiveness and openness to those who are different, to the poor and the weak. Sects put up walls and barriers out of fear, out of a need to prove themselves and to create a false security. Community is the breaking down of barriers to welcome difference" (p19-20, Community and Growth, Jean Vanier).

A Crowd is Not Community

2009-08-03T11:25:00.005-06:00

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep" - Romans 12:15

I would love to be able to say that this is not one of my own struggles, that I don't ever fail in this injunction from Scripture regarding the way in which love is made manifest. Yet, I am most clearly reminded that it is my issue when others fail me in it. It is then that I am forced to ask the question, before I respond to their failure, "Where do I fail in this?"

In both Romans 12:15 and 1 Corinthians 12:26, Paul writes about suffering and rejoicing. In Romans 12:15, he offers an injunction; 1 Corinthians 12:26 is more of a descriptive passage about a community walking well together. 1 Corinthians 12:26 is pretty straight forward; the Romans 12 piece is less so, with a loose structure and consisting of many verbs. The Romans 12 passage is what I'd like to highlight here, primarily because 1) it's a straight forward injunction that 2)leaves room for a helluva lot of creativity but 3)doesn't leave much room for shirking the responsibilities of loving others. The verbs include "bless," "rejoice," "weep," "live," "associate," etc. Answering the "how" question is, thankfully, not so obvious. This is where the creativity comes in; "how" will we seek to be obedient to this injunction?

Now, as we ponder that question in community, how do we take the "how" question to others? This past week, I was out of town for a kids culture camp. I sent an email to various friends of ours who are in "community" with us to let them know. I simply asked each of them to give Jeanine a phone call because she gets lonely when I'm away for more than two days. Did she receive a phone call? No. So, as she and I ruminate on how we fail others in this endeavor, how do we take this to our community? How do tell them, "Hey, you, who claim to be in community with us, failed us utterly in this simple request."? Granted, folks are busy, but is a simple phone call really that difficult? Jeanine was weeping...alone. It didn't have to be that way; it should not have been that way. How could have folks been creative with the request? Is my assumption that I could rely on them for this well placed? Where do Jeanine and I drop the ball in this area of our lives? What are we to do with this, and how can the injunctions of Romans 12:9-21 help us to do it well?

Douglas Moo, in his commentary on Romans, sums it up like this -
"Love that is genuine will not respond to a fellow believer's joy with envy or bitterness, but will enter wholeheartedly into that same joy. Similarly, love that is genuine will bring us to identify so intimately with our brothers and sisters in Christ that their sorrows will become ours."

Gardening Towards the Two Greatest Commandments

2009-07-06T10:29:00.003-06:00

"The getting dirty of our hands is a mutual action between us and Christ, for as we respond to the invitation to dig ourselves deep into the soil of his love, he also responds to our invitation to dig his hands deep into the smelly, dirty spaces of the soil of our own hearts. And as he models for us, in our lives, the turning over of the soil of our hearts, then we, too, learn how to respond to the invitations of others when they need folk to help them till the soil of their heart. It is in the mutual digging in the dirt between us and Jesus and others that we start (hopefully) to understand what it means to love God with everything that we are and to love our neighbors as ourself."

80% Angel, 10% Demon, and the Rest is Hard to Explain

2009-06-24T00:07:00.005-06:00

Let me put this right out there; I am no big fan of total depravity. To be honest, I think it's crap; although, that's not a strong enough word. Yet, depravity isn't something I often think about either. Sin? You guessed it; it registers at about a 2 on my thought scale. Yet, for the past few weeks, I have been grossly confronted with the reality of the broken mess that is this world and that is my life in the midst of that broken world. And my reaction to that brokenness? Prayer...worship...at first, yes, but when the smoke settled and the stress reared its ugly head, I found myself to be severely lacking in any kind of decent response. If part of this relationship with God thing is call and response, I heard the call and shouted out a great big "Fuck you" in response. Was I angry? Yeah, that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. Granted, it's not God's fault; we live in a severely broken world, and our lives are beautiful, fucked up messes. That's the reality I seem to live in; that's the reality I seem to see all around me living in downtown Edmonton. It is a beautiful city; on my best day, I can totally see the hand of God all over the place; on my worst days, I find myself whispering just to feel his breath on my neck in the winds that pass through the streets.

When I pause, when I take that deep breath, I find myself wanting to just be human. Fully human, granted, but I'm not too hyped up on the "spiritual" stuff. Does God speak to me? I don't know, really. If so, it's not some ethereal voice in the back of my head. It's usually in the smile of some kid running down the street or in the voice of my wife when I pick her up from work; maybe in the Facebook wall post from Maria telling me about the Wunchie in Kentucky, or that email from Rudy and David detailing God's faithfulness in their lives, or in the tears of a trusted friend pouring his heart out about his own deep brokenness. I don't see angels, at least not that I'm aware of; I see evil, but that's as obvious as the nose on my face. It's written all over the streets and thrown up in the gutters of our cities; it's the waste of our fucked up greed as human beings trying to consume each other as fast as is possible. We are a greedy, cannibalistic creature. And desperately in need of Jesus.

I have been reminded these past few weeks of just how desperately I still need to be saved. I refused a guy a couple of bucks today and felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest; I felt like I'd just given the finger to Jesus. I screamed at a friend over the phone this afternoon; I was so deeply angry and just reacted. I have been reminded of the depths of my own brokenness.

I see my brokenness in my rear view mirror; I see brokenness in the eyes of friends; and I remember a song that says, "The last time I saw Jesus, I was drinking bloody marys." That's the Jesus I want because that's who I see in the gospels; that's the Jesus I want to reflect in my rearview mirror and see in the tears of friends and in the shit and filth of our cities, towns, and rural centers. Give me an earthy Jesus, drinking bloody marys and smoking Camels on 95th ave. I want an orientation that looks down and sees myself in the face of the homeless; I want to be reminded that I, too, am still deeply in need of the grace of the cross to enter this beautiful fucked up mess of my life. You can keep your pie in the sky. I just want to answer the call to come and die.

Inhale...
"Hey, Jesus! pass the celery."
"Yeah, Dan, here you go. Love you bro."
"Yeah, Jesus, I love you too."
...exhale.

Grasping for God

2009-06-14T16:58:00.004-06:00

During the past few months that Jeanine and I have been living in Canada, we have seen the hand of God at work time and time and time again. Not every work has been the same; neither has every work been of the same magnitude, yet, we continue to watch as the providing and redeeming work of God is made manifest in our lives.

I hate cliches, deeply do I hate them, yet I must admit that sometimes they get a point across that, otherwise, would not be communicated. So, to use a cliche that I spoke to a friend today. I, honestly, do not understand how people suffer through the difficulties of life apart from Christ. I get it on the other side, definitely. The grace of God covers all people in all of creation and, whether they are aware or not, God carries them through because of the depths of his love for them. To be aware of this, however, most often times brings me to a place of speechlessness.

As Jeanine and I continue to walk with Jesus through our life, as we watch the Father's love poured into our lives through friends and as we continue to be empowered by the Holy Spirit to try and do the same for others, I am deeply and utterly coming to the conclusion that the words that I know are vastly insufficient to describe the great mystery Who is the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I do not know what to do with this, except maybe to simply sit in the realization of it. It totally messes with my intellectual side, which I am coming to accept more and more as the Lord intertwining my heart and my mind. It is leading me to the place of humility where I am free to utter quietly, "I do not know." And, you know what? That's okay.

I continue to yearn for the intertwining of my enormous, beautiful heart and my mind, so that the thoughts that I think are ones that have been renewed, are ones that burst with the brilliance of the Spirit's creativity from deep within the wells of my heart, and ones that help others to grasp, with me, for the amazing goodness of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The Importance of Ritual

2009-05-22T07:27:00.002-06:00

"I've discovered, in my life as a tribal person, that rituals ground you. They don't need to be elaborate in their solemnity or deeply devotional in their application to affect you that way. No matter how slight or insignificant, rituals connect you to the people you share your home and your planet with. They allow you the freedom to breathe...When you gather with others for the sublime purpose of being together, the strength of that ritual binds you, shapes you, maybe even saves you. I learned that as a foster home kid, and rituals still hold that charm and power. We're tribal people, the whole magnificent lot of us, and we shine brightest when we honour the rituals that join us." From "One Native Life" by Richard Wagamese

Insight from Bonhoeffer

2009-05-04T23:11:00.002-06:00

I read this today and sent it off to some friends as encouragement. This little ditty really helps me to see that my struggles with reading Scripture, or not reading Scripture as the case may be, is not really something to get all bent out of shape over.

"I am going through another spell of finding it difficult to read the Bible. I never know quite what to make of it. I don't feel guilty at all about it and I know it won't be long before I return to it again with renewed zest. Is it just a psychological process? I am almost inclined to think so...True, there is always a danger of indolence (avoidance, laziness), but it would be wrong to get fussed about it. Far better to trust that after wobbling a bit the compass will come to rest in the right direction." - Letters from Prison

Where Nothing is Hidden

2009-04-30T23:53:00.005-06:00

The section of my brain that creates my words,
without leaving a note, left for the day.
I am left with mediocre phrases
to describe the slow rate of my decay.
I cannot spiral down into deep sleep;
so I slip into this melancholy
where love, joy, and happiness are suppressed
and I am eye to eye with my follies.
I am blue; I am Somber; I am wretched.
I am empty, out of order, yet vain,
I primp so that I might prostitute me
to the bidder with the lowest restraint.
I am desperate and alone and revealed,
for in light like this, nothing is concealed.

Pledging Allegiance Mindlessly

2009-04-29T23:21:00.005-06:00

You know, I feel sorry for some words in the English vocabulary. They get used, abused, trashed, recycled, whored out, sold, bought, put on the shelf; they evolve, devolve, change, expand, decrease; I think, sometimes that, if I were a word, I would simply want someone to erase me.

This is, lately, how I feel about the word "community." EVERYONE is using it, and it would appear that no one really knows what the hell they're talking about. And most of the people who don't talk about it are actually the exemplars of what the word might just be getting at. Granted, I'm going to go ahead and abuse the word by placing my own adjective on it, by admitting that I'm talking about "christian" community. And I do so, simply because this is the context in which I exist. [See, I just did it. Poor, poor word.]

It is so hip these days to call small gatherings of human beings "community." Yet, it's like we take the word, absolutely empty it of meaning, and attach it to situations where we have absolutely no commitment to one another. Least of all, commitment to try and work with those in that small group to organize something meaningful. It's as though the Christian world has mindlessly pledged allegiance to a word raped of any meaning in order to be culturally relevant; it's like mindlessly pledging allegiance to a flag.

I sound like the vocabulary police. That's not my intention; I just want people to put their feet, their money, and their commitments where their loose tongues are.

Admittedly, I really want something because I have experienced something real. I want meaningful, committed, intimate relationships with other human beings. My need is to be around other people who take seriously what it means to be engaged in Scripture in such a way that the very story of our lives becomes defined by the story of God at work in salvation history. I deeply need to be around people who challenge me to perceive God in a different way, yet in a way that they can articulate through Scripture, and not some mamby-pamby pretty philosophical idea of an all-tolerant God who sits back and speaks daisies into existence all day long. I am absolutely, 100%, fucking tired of people who are okay to be biblically illiterate and allow others to do their theological thinking for them. Shit, I might as well go be a pastor at a mega-church where I can make $60K a year doing other peoples' thinking for them.

Somedays, I just want to throw my hands up, say "Fuck it all," and go back to Lexington with Jeanine. Part of that is feeling sorry for myself because no one seems to want to listen to our experiences with community, but other parts of it have to do with the deeply unmet needs I feel to jump in the car and head over to Akers drive or the High Street House. Who the hell really asks, "Should we use Scripture while we're thinking about this Christian community thing?" REALLY!?!?! Fucking really!?!?! Is that really a question people ask? It's Scripture, for God's sake! The story of God's salvation history in and through humanity! Are Christians coming up with these questions by themselves?! Or have they had such bad experiences with other "bible studies" that they want their "experiences" with Jesus to be the balancing rod of their lives? I pray that there will come a day when I won't be surprised at things like this, but I am surprised at how little the groups Jeanine and I run in, and many of them are "Christian," have very little, if any, interaction with Scripture. Even the small group from church we attend. I'm tired, and it may be cowardly, but today, I want to go back home. I miss our Communality family, very very deeply.

Restoration through Charity (Love)

2009-04-23T07:34:00.003-06:00

It is obvious, if I am not mistaken, that just as human pride, by departing from the supreme good not by a footstep but by the mind's attachment and becoming decrepit in itself, disfigured God's image in itself; so human humility, by approaching God by the spirit's attachment, is restored to the image of the Creator. Hence the apostle says: "Be renewed in the spirt of your mind and put on the new man, who was created according to God." But how will this renewal come about except by the new precept of charity of which the Savior says "I give you a new commandment." Then, if the mind puts on this charity perfectly, charity will straightway reform the other two, namely, memory and knowledge, which we said were equally disfigured. A summary of this one precept, then, is presented to us in a very salutary way; it contains the divesting of the old man, the renewal of his mind and the reforming of the divine image. - Aelred of Rievaulx, "The Way of Friendship"

Surfing Through Disappointment

2009-04-19T14:22:00.004-06:00

Disappointment is a strange emotion for me. Primarily because I rarely admit that I actually get disappointed. I like to take pride in the fact that I'm pretty laid back, that change, whether slow or quick, doesn't particularly jostle the day to day flow that my life takes. As long as I have my morning coffee, some breakfast, clothes to put on, and a house to walk out of, I'm typically pretty good to go.
So, why the all-of-a-sudden waterfall of disappointment? Probably because it's not that I fail to admit it; it's because I flat out ignore it. I don't really know how to deal with disappointment. And the core disappointment that I seem to have is this deep disappointment with God that I have regarding the fact that he has taken me as far away from any opportunity to surf as I ever imagined he would. Granted, at each point of movement, I said, "Okay." Sometimes I argued or complained but never knew how to deal with disappointment in regard to obeying God or thinking that obedience was what I was doing. Each step that took me farther and farther away from the coast seemed to take me further and further away from that one place where I connect with the Trinity and with creation in the deepest way for me.
Jesus once told a rich young man that if he wanted to inherit eternal life, he'd have to sell all he had, give it away, then follow him. Later, this conversation occurs: Peter said to him, "We have left everything to follow you." "I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age - homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and fields, and with them persecutions- and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first" (Mark 10:28-31).
I am hoping that, sooner than later, I will be able to experience, once again, the clean faces of waves rolling under me in warm water on a sunny day. That some time soon I will be able to stand again, driven by the very power of the earth on a 9ft piece of fiberglass on deep blue salt water. That one day soon, in this lifetime, I will experience surfing again as it is returned to me - my center, the place where I find the holy of holies, that place where I am always renewed and where I always find Jesus.

Reflections on Memory

2009-04-13T10:40:00.001-06:00

Bones long laid to rest stir in catacombs,
cold in the mud of memory where they lay.
Once warm with flesh and tissue and breath and life,
they won’t be resurrecting this day.
Their ghosts wander ‘round my darkened rooms,
specters of people with faces forgotten,
moving in measures of hallelujahs.
Only they know from whence they were begotten.
For my mind buried them ages ago,
when departures and goodbyes were finalized.
Only the wind and song bring them back now;
though tears no longer fall. These eyes are dry.

On many winds Death travels round the world,
billowing forth on seas with all sails unfurled.

Desperate Longings, Vulnerability, and Birthday Gifts

2009-04-03T08:45:00.004-06:00

I woke up this morning in a bit of a funk. And on my birthday of all occasions. I'm not really sure what that was all about; I'm feeling a little better now that I'm sitting in Mandolin coffee in the Highlands. I've come to hang out here for a number of reasons; one, it's my birthday; two, I need to get some transcription work done for the NAIITS symposium.

Jeanine and I were praying for our friend Drake this morning, that he would hear God's love, for eyes to see and ears to hear, and you know something? I was really struck in that Drake's transparency and authenticity really drove me to a humble place, remembering that I need to hear that, too. I didn't say this on the way home from kinship, and this is more of a confession than a fishing for help, but after teaching or preaching or something like Jeanine and I did at kinship, I feel so empty, questioning and wondering whether or not what I've done is beneficial to others, to God; whether or not it was "good" in God's eyes. I just felt really sorrowful this morning, yearning to really submit all of our dreams, our hopes, our sorrows, longings, and desperation to Jesus. And the whole time I was thinking, "Drake's right. I, too, need to hear that from you, God."

I don't know what it is with God's love, you know? I really stress in my own life to not separate love of God and love of neighbor, simply because I don't think the New Testament writers did so. So, I really soak up God's love through others, but sometimes, there's just that desperate need, that cry of the heart, to really hear the voice of God speaking like he did to Jesus after his baptism, "This is my son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased." For me, sometimes, serving an invisible God really sucks ass. His voice is hard to hear; I don't know what to do to put myself in a place to hear it; I understand it as gift, but wonder if the packaging of it is too thick to hear through.

We know that God is always moving, and the snapshots that we call miracles are our opportunity to see that movement, but sometimes, I wish/pray that God would simply pause, grab me 'round about the waist, and just violently embrace me in his love. Drake's longing is my longing, too. His transparency, honesty, and authenticity have created a safe space for me to also be honest and vulnerable with my desperate need to be loved by God, to be violently embraced in his love.

So, Drake, thank you, whether you realize it or not, for being a place for the Kingdom of God to come closer in my own life; you are an overlapping space where heaven and earth interlock, and, it seems to me, that these are truly the only places where it is safe to be vulnerable. Thank you for that. It's an amazing birthday gift.

2009-03-30T11:06:00.003-06:00

Hello friends and readers,

I wanted to let you know that the website for the North American Institute for Indigenous Theological Studies (NAIITS) is up and running. Come and check it out! God is continuing in his mighty work amongst indigenous peoples following Jesus all around the world. NAIITS is a part of that journey.

Peace.
Dan

http://www.naiits.com

Reflections on Jesus' Reflecting

2009-03-28T11:28:00.005-06:00

He betrayed me with his lips, not his eyes.
The spark there was a hint of days long past,
before the spread of the rumors and lies.
He was there at the meal that was my last,
dipping his bread in the wine like the rest.
I pondered at how quickly time had passed.
My weary eyes rested on them, my best
friends on this long journey of my short life,
and I wondered if each would pass their test.
Knowing full well they would fail amidst the strife -
this ragtag band of thieves, bandits, and crooks;
betrayal in this group was bound to be rife.
Though...I knew what existed beyond looks,
only these are worth putting in my book.

"Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people, 'I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him'" (Matthew 21:31b-32).

Deep Longings and Beautiful Doubts

2009-03-27T11:29:00.005-06:00

A few days ago, I sat with my friend Drake in his car for forty five minutes listening to him pour out his heart's longing to know that he is loved by God. We were driving through Edmonton and this conversation began at the intersection where the light was yellow and he wasn't slowing down. Obedience and disobedience was the topic du jour, and Drake was obviously wrestling with the fact that he wasn't perfect and that he was constantly in a state of disobedience. He seemed not to want to, but did by default, focus on the ways in which he's screwed up. His words, "I conquer one thing only to have it replaced by something else. I just want to know that, in it all, God is pleased with me."

Here's my question - where the hell has this thing we call the "church" come to when people like Drake have to ask the question, "is God pleased with me? I just want to hear him say it." Drake loves from a place of depth the likes that I haven't seen since leaving Kentucky. He works and offers himself as light in one of the darkest places of Edmonton. He's doing a damn good job of fulfilling the law and the prophets. And I'm just here to say that his doubts are beautiful; they are worthy to be asked and wonderful to hear...wonderfully heart breaking, not a pretty in pink kind of wonderful.

Does the church teach love? I mean really? Does the church really teach the ugly, fucked up, dirty, scandalous love of Jesus? I can't really wax philosophical on this, but I'd like to say that the church, generally speaking, does teach that love but, I think, only in theory. I'm not entirely sold on the idea that the church believes in the welcoming, cleansing, forgiving, and sending love of God in Jesus Christ. We get fed what I've come to call bullshit that says that we have to focus upon that for which we need to repent. Focus on how bad you are so that you realize how much you need Jesus. Granted, I need Jesus; what I don't need is the habit of beating myself up all the time because I think I'm a worthless worm. No thanks. A friend once said to me, "Dan, if God doesn't beat you up, what right do you think you have to beat yourself up?" Hmmm...this is me putting down the hammer and nails.

The doubt and longing that Drake is able to express broke my heart. Sitting there in that car with him, the only good response that I think I gave was my own tears. I've come to a conclusion of late - I don't know how to lead anyone to Jesus. What I do know how to do is to love. And I know how to love because someone took the time to first love me. God is love, and if God is love and Jesus is God the Son, then God the Son is love; to love, I know how to lead someone.

By no means am I a reductionist; I still believe that Christians are called to be distinct in this world but for the sake of the world, so that the kingdom can continue to come in its fullness. I still believe that the extravagant, all welcoming love of Jesus demands that we become more and more like him, that we do strive to be whole as the Father is whole - in other words, I believe Jesus demands that we get our shit straight, realize we sin, admit our need, and, together, grow more and more into maturity.

Drake's deep longings and beautiful doubts broke a piece of me; his welcome of me into his deep honesty honored me. Together, we rested in a place of God that was welcoming, healing, and loving; whether Drake knows that or not, I have no idea. Yet, it was in that very dark, very quiet, very holy place that I remembered that we are all beautiful, fucked up messes, loved by a crucified God, in (not in spite of) our beautiful, fucked up lives.

Will Drake hear God's words? I should hope so, since God is in the talking to his people business. Samuel, Jesus, Paul, Peter...all young guys who got to hear the voice of God. And will I hear God? I don't know as I want to so much as I simply want to be loved - that's my desire. And to love - I want to love people as though this God we serve were mute. Not in order to be his voice, just his arms.

Wantaqo ti ("Peace").

Outrageous!!!

2009-03-23T21:38:00.002-06:00

If you so feel the urge or impression to post this on your own blog, please feel free to do so. This is a ridiculous action on the part of this South Dakota electrical company. In my deepest of opinions, this is a social justice issue; if you do choose to place this on your blog, please pass it along to those who read your blog as well, asking them to post on their blog, too.

South Dakota-based Central Electric Cooperative has a policy in effect to provide electricity to its customers in the winter months regardless of their ability to pay. However, Crow Creek Reservation tribal members are getting their power turned off by the company in the midst of extreme blizzard conditions.

In numerous instances, Crow Creek residents have medical conditions that require the use of electricity, and many other residents have small children and/or elderly in the home.

In a place where tribal members remember promises from Central Electric to provide electrical power free of charge, tribal residents’ pay electricity rates one-third higher than the national average.

In 1955, Central Electric displaced an entire town of American Indians on the Crow Creek Reservation with the construction of the Big Bend Dam, built to provide a source of electricity. Read the entire article in Indian Country Today.

Truncated Joy

2009-03-19T21:28:00.008-06:00

I await the sudden burst of spring delight,
longingly looking toward the horizon for
warmest Chinook winds to blow away the cold
and wrap me in the warm scent of fresh dew.
The eyes of children dilate with wonder
just at the thought of something splendor filled;
so too do my eyes expand at the thought
that winter days are shortening to a few.
Yet my view is constricted when I rise
to the incessant dripping of melting snow
and chilling winds bearing down upon my legs
as I exit the house to start the car.

Winter digs her claws into this land
and pushes Spring backward in her advance.

2009-03-16T08:38:00.004-06:00

I woke up to a grey day this morning, with snow falling all round. Fortunately, the temperature has come up a few degrees as Spring begins to set in. With the entrance of Spring into the natural rhythmic cycle of the seasons, I am reminded of God's faithfulness to his people. In the midst of wondering how Jeanine and I are going to pay for duties and taxes on importing our car, remembering God's faithfulness is a really good thing. Though, to be honest, when the money figures are what they are, it's really tough to trust God to go out and sell one of his cattle. You know, the ones he owns on a thousand hills. Yet, it has to be my confession that God is at work behind the scenes in ways that I can't see; otherwise, I'd be a hopeless bag of flesh and bones, unable to really see any sense in the world. And a life of nihilism isn't worth living.
So, we're driving along and my thoughts begin to flow and Jeanine and I started talking about money. Obviously, right? We're possibly looking at paying $2000 for duties and taxes on my car, right? Yet, I began to think of others that we know of who are in similar predicaments, asking the question of God, "How are you going to come through for me/us?" And I began to think about what I spend money on and how, if I took a month or two to experiment with not spending money on things like grande and vinti starbucks drinks, much I could save. Yet, it wasn't simply for the purpose of saving the money. Jeanine said, "I don't want to be legalistic about it." To which I replied, "I think that when you add a face that you know to the equation, it ceases to be legalism." The reason I want to experiment with not drinking starbucks for a month or two or not grabbing fast food or whatever, is to note the times that I would like a starbucks, calculate the cravings throughout the month, add up what I would have spent, then send that to someone we know who is asking, "God, how are you going to come through for us this month?"
I mean, we know plenty of people who need help with their electric bill, heating bill, a/c bill, kids' supplies for school, etc. For some reason, Jesus said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." I suppose there are times in life when we just need to test the teacher on his cryptic phrases, eh?

Saving the Life of a Child

2009-03-11T09:49:00.002-06:00

This is an excerpt of a presentation by Peter Singer for his newest book tour, "The Life You Can Save." As I listened to this presentation in its fullest form and thought about the global recession, I was struck by the thought of whether or not those who trust in a higher power, be they followers of Jesus or not, would cling to their assets or be generous with their assets. How will the religious world respond to a global economic crisis? How will the church respond to a global economic crisis? Are the religious world and the church responding to the current recession in various countries around the world? And if so, how is that response effecting adherents to these religions?
I don't have the answers to any of these questions, but Singer presents this argument very well, while at the same time, not tugging on the heartstrings as do so many Christian organizations. His challenge made me wonder what it would be like to, for a week, live with only the necessities of life - food, water, shelter, and gas to and from Jeanine's work. No Starbucks, no extra clothes, no extra make-up (for Jeanine of course), etc. Just the basics. I have no idea, though I cannot make that decision on my own, it's well worth discussing with Jeanine.
For a short look at Singer's lecture, see below:

Falling Out of Reach

2009-03-10T20:26:00.002-06:00

I suppose that falling out of reach is one of my deepest fears. Granted, I got in touch with some of my deepest fears and needs this past weekend but that's a blog entry in and of itself. Either way, I found this video on youtube and thought that it was quite a profound commentary on aging, on the busy-ness of life, and upon the way that we so often fail to simply take a break, admit that we're tired as hell, and try to reconnect to our fellow human beings. I suppose that corporate North America spends billions of dollars a year trying to prevent us from doing this; otherwise, we would cease to be producers, which is why I think we see the aging gentleman in this video, front and center. In our culture and society, older people are useless because they cannot produce; yet, they can be useful if we would simply take a moment to pause, listen to their stories, and reflect that one day, one day soon, we will be the older generation.

A Word or Two on Prayer

2009-03-03T20:51:00.005-07:00

For the past few months, like flowers after a very cold winter, my eyes have begun to open to the light of God's love. I think that I'm finding myself in the early stages of really believing that God is always at work, not simply when I see the answers to my prayers break through the dullness of my daily existence. I typically think of prayer as me beginning a conversation with my Creator on a regular (or, to be honest, semi-regular) basis. So, I sit down, say a few words of thanksgiving and praise, lay out my laundry list of requests, and, depending on how I feel that day, sit for a bit in quiet, and then with a formulaic "in the name of Jesus" end the conversation. That is, more or less, how I was taught to pray. Though I've experimented with various other forms of prayer, this is typically my default.

Annie Dillard says that prayer is more like this, "When you pray, you are not starting the conversation from scratch, just remembering to plug back into a conversation that's always in progress." To my wife, I must give many props. This is how she lives her life; this is her understanding of what it means to walk with Creator and Creator's Son and Creator's Spirit. Her people have believed for centuries that to pray in a good way is to dance their prayers, so if you ever happen to stumble upon a traditional pow-wow, when you see folks dancing, know that that's a sacred moment between them and Creator. And, to be honest, with the beauty that this understanding entails, this makes me a little jealous of Jeanine's worldview because it creates a space for her to know and believe that every step that she takes on a daily basis is prayer to Creator. She's not perfect, granted, but I have a lot to learn from a woman who understands deeply what it means to be in a progressive conversation with God.

My re-awakening to prayer has been greatly influenced by my wife, her people, and other Native North American friends and family. Their view of the world is holistic; whereas, a Western worldview is dualistic (split between spirit and matter, where spirit is more important than matter; this is most evidential in Christian circles when folks are more concerned about getting their "souls" to heaven than anything else in life). That which we cannot see, which we call dreams or spirits are very real to a traditional Native North American worldview; the spiritual (or the "eye cannot see" space) is much more tangible to me as I begin to live in this way. My walk with the Trinity has been expanded in ways that are difficult to explain via a blog. I believe that the smudging ceremony** and prayer that Jeanine and I participate in together in the mornings and other various parts of the week has helped to open my closed eyes to the consistent movement of a very present God involved in his deeply loved creation.

So, here's to very much looking toward the Spring of my prayer life, when I have, finally, the type of eyes that Scripture so cryptically speaks of: "eyes to see (and, of course, ears to hear)."

Welalin (thank you in Mi'kmaq)

**Smudging is similar to blessing oneself with Holy Water in the Catholic faith. The smoke from burning sweet grass, cedar, or sage, is brushed toward one's body to cleanse the spirit. The smudging is usually done before a person involves herself/himself in a traditional ceremony.

CONDOMINIUM FOR SALE IN LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY

2009-03-01T22:02:00.004-07:00

Mike and Erica Robinson, friends of ours in Louisville, Kentucky, are selling their newly renovated condominium. If you know of anyone in the Kentucky area looking for a new home, or if you know of anyone looking to move to Kentucky, this might be that for which they are looking. If you're interested in seeing the condo, interior and exterior, you can see it here:

http://generationhomebuilders.blogspot.com/

After 8 Hours a Day of Boredom...

2009-03-01T18:19:00.000-07:00

...this is kind of what I feel like I'm becoming.

I Don't Want Miracles...

2009-02-23T22:06:00.003-07:00

The past few weeks have been, on average, pretty much the same as what we have been experiencing for the past six months. We are continuing to learn how to live into our new life as a married couple; Jeanine is still working, though she will start a new job soon; and, we are continuing to make friends and, hopefully by way of reciprocity, nurture new relationships. Our life, I would imagine, is pretty normal. We are continuing, though, to learn how to find God in the midst of that; we are learning how to cultivate, though I often am horrible at this, a way of seeing the world from one of abundant normality. I struggle with this concept because of the baggage I bring into life attempting to define "abundant." For me, "normal" brings a balance to that baggage because the baggage defines abundance as "more, extravagant, ecstatic, surprising." However, abundant can also mean plentiful and overflowing. Our life is full of plenty. Our life, I am hoping, is normal.

I'm not really the kind of guy who goes looking for miracles. Actually, I'll probably be the first to try and figure out the logical problems with what someone would call a miracle. Part of this is because I don't want to stand out in the crowd; I'm not too keen on God working in my life in a way that will separate me from the masses; I'm not too sure Jesus was that kind of person either. Somehow, the incarnation and separation from the masses just doesn't mesh with me. So, for the past few weeks, I have seen God answer some prayers in some very unmistakable ways. I'm still not convinced, though, that I'd label these under the category of miracle. I think they'd belong under the category of "normal," except that it's normal for folks who are, to the best of their knowledge and ability, in a desperately unbalanced (read: "right") relationship with the Triune God, as well as in, to the best of their knowledge and ability, in right relationship with their neighbor. I think that I'm beginning to learn that it is in this junction that humanity can begin to see and hear with the mysterious eyes and ears that Jesus of Nazareth kept talking about, "those with 'eyes to see and ears to hear.'" The thing about being in right relationship with God and neighbor is being able to see prayers answered because answered prayer is a normal occurrence for folks obeying the two greatest commandments, the two that sum up the Law and the prophets.

Though strange, the prayers that I have seen answered are not out of this world. They are not somehow "super" natural or otherworldly. Jeanine and I have been praying for a new job for her. Jeanine and myself and some friends of ours have been praying that our artist friend, Mike, would be able to sell his work and be commissioned for more work. Jeanine has been hired by a pretty prestigious law firm in the city as a legal assistant; she now looks forward to getting up in the morning and going to work. Mike sold his painting and was commissioned for more work. The interesting aspect here is that the same man is the pivotal point of both answered prayers. Jeanine's new boss, S.E., is the same man who bought Mike's painting and commissioned him for another.

Now, don't get me wrong; I definitely believe in mystery and am not one to explain the fine details of how prayer works, though I believe it does. What I am saying is this. Answered prayer is normal; I think and believe that it happens all...the...time. Literally. I think, though, that we deem it miraculous because a majority of the time our eyes are closed and our ears are plugged. Having "eyes to see and ears to hear" is what I think Jesus was trying to get across as normal. The fact is that we only begin to experience the abundant normality when our eyes and ears begin to open. The difficulty is that we so often don't want to have to experience what is required to live into normality because it requires death to one way of seeing and hearing in order to experience resurrection and the seeing and hearing that Jesus hoped folks would have. The most difficult thing about following Jesus is the fact that in order to get to the joy we have to go through the cross; otherwise, we are simply complacent with what we have deemed as the miraculous.

BoredWhoredom

2009-02-19T21:49:00.007-07:00

Today, I am tired of being jobless.
I feel close to the edge of the madness
when I do that which I don't want to do
and then ruminate in my own sadness.
Boredom is the bitch born from the foes of
all things productive, contemplative, and pure.
She is the cheap whore distracting Beauty
with her seductive kisses and contours,
ensnaring Art in an impotent ooze
from which no creation will ever emerge.
Today I have been her willing client;
will tomorrow be the day that I purge?
And will the day ever come when I am
no longer bound to this awful ma'dam?

A Maori Framework of Understanding

2009-02-15T02:05:00.004-07:00

Know - who you are, in your identity, and be strong in that

Be - Authenticity and not a mask; our being is about our presence; this is about living out your faith by following Jesus and not a preprogrammed set of rules

Do - These are the actions that follow the knowing and being

I want to give a great big thank you to my Auntie Thelma for sharing this with me. Moreover, I want to give a great big thanks to the God who can use people on the other side of the globe, simply through email, Skype and IM technology, to love a broken, impatient, full of "piss and vinegar" young man like myself. I am honored to learn about whanau. And to be part of that family.

The Hope for Self-Determination...Or...It's About Damn Time (if this works out)

2009-02-12T00:12:00.004-07:00

Native folks have been working toward self-determination ever since the day that colonialism ripped it away from them, telling them that the great white father would take care of them and protect them. Which, obviously, turned out to be a crock of horse shit. It is my hope that, if this bill passes and is successful, it will be a precedent for other Native people in the United States to create their own governments for the purpose of self-determination. Since, as it stands, Native Americans were, in fact, several hundreds of separate nations. Read more...

Hawai‘i delegation supports reintroduced Akaka bill

WASHINGTON — The four members of Hawai‘i’s congressional delegation this week spoke out in support of The Native Hawaiian Government Reorganization Act of 2009, introduced by Sen. Daniel K. Akaka (D-Hawai‘i) on Wednesday, according to a press release.

Sen. Daniel K. Inouye (D-Hawai‘i) served as an original cosponsor, while Congressman Neil Abercrombie (D-Hawai‘i) introduced a companion bill in the U.S. House of Representatives with Congresswoman Mazie Hirono (D-Hawai‘i) cosponsoring.

The bill, identical to the bill passed by the House in 2000, would begin a process to form a Native Hawaiian government that could negotiate with the state and federal government on behalf of Hawai‘i’s indigenous people.

In his floor statement, Akaka said: “Building on the constitutionally sound and deliberate efforts of Congress and the State of Hawai‘i, it is necessary that Native Hawaiians be able to reorganize a government and enter into discussions with the federal and state governments. My bill would ensure there is a structured process by which Native Hawaiians and the people of Hawai‘i can come together, resolve such complicated issues, and move forward together as a state.”

Inouye said: “This is a good bill and it is long overdue. The Hawai‘i Congressional Delegation will do its utmost to successfully pass this measure.”

Congressman Abercrombie said: “The legislation we are introducing today is important, not only to Native Hawaiians, but to everyone in Hawai‘i. It provides a process to address long-standing issues facing Hawai‘i’s indigenous peoples and the State of Hawai‘i. In addressing these matters, we have begun a process of healing, a process of reconciliation not only between the United States and the Native people of Hawai‘i, but within the State.”

Congresswoman Hirono said: “It is a matter of decency — of human and civil rights — for the Congress to provide for a process of self-determination for an indigenous, native people. The House has twice voted to support federal recognition for Native Hawaiians, and I look forward to working with the Hawai‘i delegation on passing the bill again and having our Hawai‘i-born President Obama sign it into law.”

Commonly known as the “Akaka Bill,” the Native Hawaiian Government Reorganization Act enjoys bipartisan support. In Hawai‘i, the bill is strongly supported by Governor Linda Lingle, and the State legislature has passed three resolutions in support of federal recognition for Native Hawaiians. In 2007, Hawai‘i State Attorney General Mark Bennett testified in strong support of the legislation before the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.

“This process is important for all people of Hawai‘i, so we can finally resolve the long-standing issues resulting from the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawai‘i and move forward together to provide a better future for the children of Hawai‘i. We have an established record of the United States’ commitment to reconciliation with Native Hawaiians. This legislation is a necessary next step to build upon that foundation and honor that commitment,” Akaka added.

The Senate bill is now referred to the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, and the House bill to the House Committee on Natural Resources.

Goodbye Friend

2009-02-10T20:59:00.006-07:00

One of the saddest and most difficult aspects of life is the death of friends and loved ones. I received a phone call today and my friend who was on the other line said, "Dan, we have something to tell you." And then her husband got on the phone and said, "We'll talk next week." I imagine that Billy realized that he didn't have an hour or more to talk me through what he has to tell me. However, Jeanine had talked to Maria and Maria told her that Terry had died. When Jeanine told me, I didn't really know how to react because I'd only met Terry two or three times when he came to men's group in Lexington. However, Terry made a huge impact on my life the first time I met him, the first time he read Scripture, and the first time he shared his feelings about what we were talking about. I am continually amazed at the power of one person's vulnerability and the way that that vulnerability disempowers pride and guardedness.

Terry was a dear person and friend. He was the kind of guy who typically wouldn't have been heard but had so much to say; the primary reason being his mental illness and the degree to which he suffered from this. Moreover, last I heard, Terry was trying to get permission to see his daughter. I'm not sure how long it had been since he'd seen her last, but it had been quite some time. He had her picture, which he shared with us.

I mourn not only for the loss of my friend Terry but also mourn for my friend Billy, who is once again losing another person into whose life he has poured much of his own. Another death in the Communality community is a painful experience, and it's my hope that they can all walk through this time together, and somewhere in the end, whenever that time comes, that they can experience the power of resurrection.

So, to you my friend Terry, I say goodbye. I hope to see you in the resurrection, whenever that comes. And to Billy, Maria and Communality, over the miles, I offer my love, my tears, my heart, and my embraces.

Encouraged and Challenged By a Brother and Sister I've Never Met

2009-02-09T15:36:00.004-07:00

About a month ago, I came across a blog from a sister in Christ who lives in India. Her name is Amrita; I came across her blog because of another blogger with whom I have had the fortune of being in semi-regular contact. His name is Greg Millsaps and he is using his blog to host the voices of those who otherwise may not be heard in various parts of the world; I would never have known about Amrita if it had not been for Greg. Greg is a missionary and teacher in a bible school in Mexico, where he and his family currently live. In my opinion, as Westerners, it is deeply important for us to make room in any way that we can for those voices that 1) we may never hear and 2) that are oppressed. These two categories may not be the same; they may be the same. Either way, Greg is an amazing example of this kind of advocacy, and by his example, I am challenged in my own life to continue to advocate, in the midst of deaf generations, for those whose voices are the prophetic for our world.

Today, I read Amrita's post and was again challenged by another sibling in Christ. I will link to Amrita's site here, and I recommend anyone who reads here to check it out, but the most recent post is in regard to the bounty of her garden and the way in which she has used what God has blessed her with to bless others. She shared the produce of her garden with three widows that she knows; as I was reading it, whether this was Amrita's intention or not, I remembered the definition of true religion as spelled out in the book of James, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world" (James 1:27).

Thank you very much, both Greg and Amrita, for the ways in which you have encouraged and challenged me. And thank God for the way in which the internet might connect those who otherwise would never be connected so as to further his Kingdom until it finally comes in its fullness. Come Lord Jesus, come!

Greg's Blog is here http://suppliants.blogs.com/

and

Amrita's blog is here: http://yesugarden.blogspot.com/

Shout Out to David Wofford

2009-02-08T13:39:00.002-07:00

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine posted a video that reminded me of the videos I used to watch growing up. It was a video of the Muppets. So, here's a shout video to him and a great big thankful post on his behalf! Love you, Woff!!

The Unspoken, Unseen, Unbelievable Confession of a Man Observing His Own Culture

2009-02-05T23:28:00.006-07:00

You are waiting, that I can see. You are hearing and thinking, which is apparent to me, for your lips don't move because you think with your heart and the heart has no words.* You are moving without permission, moving closer to me and I am uncomfortable. I am afraid when you come too close; I am afraid because silence is the weapon that I have used for these many centuries and I know its effects well. Your mouths, they are silent; your eyes, your drums, your tears, your dances, and your blood, has no one learned yet how to silence these? I do not have to hear; I am not responsible; I cannot see what happens to you in your small existence. When you are out of my sight, you are out of my mind; you do not exist. I do not want to be told about the consequences of my indifference; the death of your young ones by suicide, drugs, alcohol, sexual, physical, and emotional abuse don't have anything to do with me. I am not guilty. I do not want to be guilty. You won't convince me of my guilt, my responsibility. I am not culpable for the actions of dead men nor responsible for the actions of suicided children.

I am not wounded; I am conqueror. I am not impoverished; I am inheritor of purchased land. I am beneficiary to the hard work of my settling ancestors and army forebears. You are now too close; your tears they scream into my very soul and speak a louder word than the screams of my worst nightmares. I will pray and you will go away; you...you ghost, dancing in my vision, before my sight; I will pray and you will go away.

Why can't you be just like me? Forget what happened then and let's move on; get over it; I have. Why can't you? You want to fight something? Let's fight something together. Don't treat me like them; I'm not like them. My next door neighbor is someone like you; I have friends that are like you. Leave the past in the past. We should fight against what effects us all. High taxes, corrupt governments, those kinds of things. You're no more special than anyone else. Everyone has a grief to claim. C'mon.

I see you weeping and I refuse to admit that what I see is my guilt, my culpability, my responsibility, reflected in the shine of the light from Creator's sun hitting your tears. I will not carry your burden and I will not weep.**

*Words of Chief Washakie of the Eastern Shoshone in response to receiving a silver saddle from the president of the United States when asked to reply to the gift but didn't offer any words. ("The White man thinks with his mind, and he has many words to describe his thoughts. The Indian thinks with his heart, and the heart has no words.")

** What I have written above are not voiced words; they are not what I believe to be the intentional reflections of well meaning Americans and Canadians (go ahead and throw in Western folk in the UK, NZ, and AU). Although, I'm sure there have been those persons who have vocalized these words. Ultimately, I would have to say that these have been my unspoken words in the past. I believe that these words are unspoken because I believe that we who are not the "unheard ones" cannot see how deeply ingrained in our consciousness, in our worldview, as well as in the behaviors of our governmental systems is this mentality (this isn't an excuse; I think it's more like that which is in the darkness that needs to be called into the light). Yet, as those of us who are followers of Jesus as well as beneficiaries of colonialism and neo-colonialism (stolen land, ripped off culture, choose your own word; I don't have any pretty ones anymore), we have a place to mourn with those who mourn (because what has happened and continues to happen deserves to be grieved), to weep with those who weep (though we may find that we are the ones being wept with), and to bear one another's burdens, and, when a time comes that the majority culture does not get to vote on, maybe then we will be able to allow ourselves to confess that we have had these thoughts; maybe that will be when we can also rejoice with those who rejoice. And dance with those who dance, and drum with those who drum.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, give us eyes to see what is deeply ingrained and hidden from us; give us the courage to call out of the darkness and into the light; and give us ears to hear the voices that speak clearly the words of our own salvation. Amen.

Colonialism Is Not a Ghost

2009-02-04T08:51:00.002-07:00

Australia: Protesters Storm High Court Over NT Intervention Ruling

About 50 protesters have invaded the High Court in Canberra to protest against its decision to reject a legal challenge to the Northern Territory Intervention.

The High Court has ruled against the group of Indigenous leaders from Maningrida in the Northern Territory who argued the takeover of their community was not constitutional.

Dozens of protesters angered by the decision have stormed the building, chanting slogans and waving banners.

About 12 of them scuffled with police and at least one protester has been arrested.

After about 20 minutes protesters left the building and staged another impromptu protest in the courtyard of the High Court.

They said the High Court has trampled on the rights of Indigenous people and many say they will not move until the decision is reversed.

Northern Territory Indigenous elder Barbara Shaw says the protesters are angry that the Court has helped the Government steal Aboriginal land. Read more about the Australian protests here....

2009 Movies to Watch Out For...

2009-02-02T22:54:00.005-07:00

Here are some EMERGING movies coming out this year. The MISSION of them is to simply entertain. I'm super stoked because I grew up on most of these! I love it when my comic books come alive!! Sorry, had to add some lovely humor to the tidal wave of serious posts. Enjoy.

Reminders, Renewal, and Two Worlds

2009-01-30T20:59:00.006-07:00

I had a pretty profound conversation with my brother in law today, which was coupled with me reflecting on life in Kentucky. I graduated from seminary in December; I took Church History for two years. Renewal movements come and go and come and go; typically, they end up simply being the genesis of new denominations. The Church of Christ, which is Jesus' bride, continues on. Whether it's Origen, Martin Luther, John Wesley, Dorothy Day or, in fifty to one hundred and fifty years when we're reflecting on the renewal movements of the 20th and 21st centuries, McLaren, Mother Theresa, Roxburgh, and Bell, there have been renewal movements throughout the life of this thing we call the Body of Christ. And there probably always will be. It's like we run and run and run, then when we need deep breaths, we stop, bend over, pull ourselves up again, stretch our backs, and take in extremely deep breaths of the Spirit of God. It's rhythmic; it's normal; and, it may very well, simply put, be expected.

Emergent. Missional. New Monastic. They're nothing new. Not really. This isn't a mark against those seeking to take deep breaths; I think it's just an observation that I, for myself, have not taken seriously for the past few months. I think that when I get bored, I revert to what my friend Zach calls "defaulting." Essentially, we go back to what's normal for us, or what is comfortable. And for me, that becomes discussions regarding the missional church, the lack of marginalized voices, and what the heck we're going to do about it. Now, all that's not bad in and of itself; those things need to be asked, those questions raised, but it's the obsession of which I have to steer clear. Granted, the marginalized have been raising those questions since they were marginalized; that, too, is nothing new. I think I just have a very naive hope that maybe "such a time as this" is when those who haven't been listening to the voice of the colonized will really listen. That those of us who benefit from colonization (past and present) will be willing to respond differently by sitting in the uncomfortableness of the shame and guilt that comes with hearing those voices. I don't know. I really don't know. I think that the white Western church is arrogant and I think that the marginalized voices have a huge deal to offer; I also think that those two bodies come together in ways that I can't see, in ways beyond the "spokespersons" for the Western church.

So, what do I want? I want to walk in two worlds; I want to think from a different point of view. It's like Matt said, "Learn from those on our side who know what they're talking about. Learn the right stuff; give yourself to learning the indigenous ways so that when questions like you're asking are raised, you'll know how to answer them. For now, though, you have us. But we get to help you be balanced and not obsess. Sometimes we get to tell when enough is enough and where to park and where you can't park."

One thing that I've learned is that balance and harmony are values for indigenous peoples. Right now, I may not be as balanced as I need to be; that's not to say I'm tipping over like a 50 gallon drum at sea; I just need to be situated a little better. For me, that means taking seriously the reading of non-Western voices; it means being disciplined to listening to indigenous voices teach me, no matter how difficult the sitting in of the pain will be. I'm learning a lot; today, thanks to a profound conversation, memories, and a simple reality check, I was reminded once again not to fly so close to the sun.

I am landed between these two worlds here,
boarded on planks between these foreign shores,
head held screaming toward the merciful sky,
while rain washes away tears from my eyes.
One hand extends toward the opposite side
while the other clings to wooden railing strong;
weak knees give way to self-imposed pressure,
and I am afraid that I may not fly.
Yet, I must journey on before I return-
walking toward piles and piles of dirty plates,
traveling there with my face now toward here;
over the turbulent sea, beneath the silent sky.

One world says to stay, the other says come;
so to walk in both, for now I must leave home.

Indigenous Theologians Discuss Christianity from a Native Perspective

2009-01-29T08:54:00.002-07:00

Below is a video very much worth watching from a smattering of those who would be considered to be on the margins. I recently read an article by Al Roxburgh regarding the "cutting edge." To give Roxburgh credit, he does mention that he isn't a fan of trite phrases such as "cutting edge." (Go check out the article; it's worth reading). In my estimation, there's a parallel between the margins and the cutting edge, and I wonder to what degree Western Christian leaders are looking in the wrong places for this elusive "cutting edge." According to my Mac dictionary, a margin is "the edge or border of something." Now, if the margin is the edge of something and the cutting edge is moving or is elusive, then maybe some folks should step out to the margin-a-lized and, from a position of learner, ask what they're doing, where they're going, how they perceive everything we call "Christian."

In the West, we have a very future oriented perspective of time. Therefore, we are constantly looking "ahead" to what is coming or what is next. Although Roxburgh attributes the moving cutting edge to God's humor, I would credit it to the West's inability to see that far ahead. On the other hand, a traditional indigenous view of time is to walk with one's back toward the future, with the past in their face; therefore, I am of the firm opinion that those within indigenous Christian "movements" (I don't know that they'd call them that), can see the West coming up because they can see into the past. And it is here that a point for reconciliation can be made. Those who are on the margins, specifically in this case, indigenous folks from around the world (those whose ancestors were colonized, etc.), are offering an invitation to those leaders in the West who, whether intentionally or unintentionally, continue to press them further and further into the margins.

So, the invitation is out there. These guys on this video are a key example of some of those indigenous leaders who are willing to sit down and have conversations about issues, theology, and practice that are WAY WAY beyond this blogger's knowledge. So, Roxburgh, Hirsch, Jones, Taylor, Frost, van Gelder, and any other leaders in that vein (or any other curious folk for that matter), if you're out there, the invitation is there. Clear your calendars and be invited to the "cutting edge."

If We are Emerging, then How are We Emerging? If We are Missional, then How are We Hospitable?

2009-01-27T17:11:00.005-07:00

"The breakup of Christianity during the Reformation into national churches and the proliferation of denominations today would seem to indicate that a religious universality cannot be successfully maintained across racial and ethnic lines. The types of Christianity enjoying success in the southern United States today are hardly within the traditional experiences of two millennia of Christians. Rather they tend to reflect the cultural and political biases of the people of the region, indicating that instead of the message of universal salvation and/or fellowship, ethnicity will most always triumph. Until contemporary Christian denominations recognize the human reality of ethnicity, they will continue to blunder into and out of contemporary situations and emerge worse for the experience" (DeLoria, 1994:210).

"It is with respect to the attitude displayed toward strangers that a community's psychic identity can be determined. A community that is uncertain about itself must act in self-defense against any outsider to prevent any conceivable threat to its existence, whereas a community that has a stable identity accords to other communities the dignity of the distinct existence that it wishes to receive itself. The admonition of the early Hebrews to honor the stranger in their midst because they were once strangers in Egypt indicates the degree of community security enjoyed by the people. Their faith in the continuity of their nation precluded (prevented) the destruction of others simply because they had different customs and beliefs. Logan, the Mingo chief, appealed to the Virginians for justice at the peace council following the back-country war of 1774: 'I appeal to any white man to say if he ever entered Logan's cabin hungry and he gave him not meat; if he ever came cold and naked and he clothed him not.' Such hospitality characterized the tribal religious communities precisely because they were communities limited to specific groups, identifiable to the world in which they lived, and responsible for maintaining a minimum standard of hospitality and integrity" (DeLoria, 1994:211).

Whanau Means Family Means Transformation Means Hope

2009-01-24T17:58:00.008-07:00

This afternoon, I was feeding the horses and taking Pieces out for a bit of a jaunt. We were walking through knee deep snow when I had the sudden urge to just drop backwards into it. I felt like I was falling into pillows; there is quite a bit of snow out here on the farm this year. While Pieces was eating snow, horse poop, and expending his pent up energy on the snow that came up to his back, I lifted myself up to my knees and became keenly aware of my surroundings. The snow on my skidoo suit, the one lone star in the dusk sky, amidst an array of blues, oranges, purples, pinks, and a hint of grey. The biting chill on my face, which happened to be the only skin exposed to the minus thirty degree weather, the pup playing in the snow, and the saliva jumping to my mouth's rescue in the freezing dry air.

I was reminded of Genesis 1 and the seven times that God saw that his creation was good. And then I thought about Ruth 1:16-17,

"But Ruth replied, 'Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me."

Ruth, a woman of a different people who had a different god, stayed with Naomi and took upon herself (to what extent I have no idea) Ruth's God and Ruth's people. Naomi's worldview had to have been strikingly different from Ruth's, yet Ruth was willing to risk the way she viewed the world for the sake of this relationship.

I am now son-in-law to Terry and Bev LeBlanc, Mi'kmaq husband and wife from Restigouche; I am nephew to leaders from the Cherokee, Lakota Sioux, Cayuga, Cree, Maori, and Aboriginal peoples; brother to Mi'kmaq, Anishinabe, Maori, and Aboriginal brothers and sisters. I am still son of Martha and Jeff Lowe of Florida and brother of Allison, also in Florida. I am nephew, still, to William and Tommie Taylor of Alabama and Thomas Lowe of Florida. I am still great grandson to the 10th power of a Revolutionary War captain that sold American Indians and First Nations people into slavery. I am Dan, a man of a different people who have a very different understanding of God, and now I stay with Jeanine. I am learning what it might mean for me to take upon myself her people, though I am beginning to experience what it means to take on their understanding of Creator and creation.

And somewhere in the mix of all of that, though not with me directly, is the example of what it means to live and walk the way of Jesus together. There is no reason that any of those representatives from any of those marginalized people groups should now call me, an obvious representative of the majority culture, family, but it is because of who they are and the way that they see the world that I am welcomed. And not only am I welcomed, but so are the various other non-indigenous people in their families and circles of influence (as far, broad, and reaching as those are). I am humbled to the core of who I am when I sit in very very cold snow and realize the immensity of this fact.

This picture, this understanding of community and relationship, accountability and mutual growth, is the only antidote to the Constantinian hangover. It is through this sort of welcoming, friendship, family-making, intentional dialogue, room making, and re-sorting the seats at the table, that the Church will be transformed to the depths of the claims that the going Western voice is making. Creator has given us indigenous people because we in the West have forgotten how to see and how to hear; we no longer remember our ceremonies nor our dances, and very shortly it may be that we forget even our prayers. And we, the Western people, have been given to them in order to help them heal from the Constantinian colonialism that our ancestors forced upon their ancestors. And they invite us to do so.

When we pray that God's Spirit would give us ears to hear and eyes to see, how often do we consider that the answer to that prayer is the irrevocable transformation of our worldview? We are, in fact, asking God to help us to hear and see in a different way. It is my hope and prayer that those in current leadership in the church in the West would begin to see that God is giving us to each other so that our prayers for new ears and new eyes might very well be answered. And in there, in the mix somewhere, will be the transformation of Christ's body in our world.

Sitting on this Side For Now

2009-01-20T22:47:00.005-07:00

David Grey writes a song called, "The Other Side." I watched a live concert with him on television the other night with Jeanine, and he discussed his meaning behind it, much of which I don't remember.

This song, though, makes me think deeply about paradigm shifts, worldview changes, the questions we ask ourselves about faith, and the questions we want others to ask about their faith. The song is an invitation and a confession. It's a declaration of hope; it's a plea for understanding. I feel smack dab in the middle of this song. I imagine myself standing in a field, with a fence in front of me; the wooden kind, with 1x6 panels and the slits in-between the boards. It's got holes where the knots came out of the logs, and it's worn. And about two feet over my head. I can't see what's on the other side of the fence, but I can see what I'm leaving behind; I can smell it, taste it, hear it, feel it. It's tangible. Uninviting. And the other side? I don't hear anything, and when I peek through the knot holes, I see acres and acres and acres of nothing. No horizon, no darkness, no light, no nothing. It's like a blank canvas without border, without surface, just a vast amount of inviting nothingness. And I think about these lyrics from the song:

I know it would be outrageous/To come on all courageous/And offer you my hand/To pull you up on to dry land/When all I got is sinking sand/The trick aint worth the time it buys/Im sick of hearing my own lies/And loves a raven when it flies.

And I am struck with the deeply humbling realization that I have no fucking idea what the other side holds. And that courage has nothing to do with jumping the fence or tearing it down. Most days I don't really know what I'm inviting other people into. I've got nothing tangible for you to put your hands on except for wet tears, beating hearts, and smelly bodies. I'm learning more and more that the words I've learned don't really carry the vastly deep pains that people experience; they're like buckets with huge holes in them. So many words and ideas and experiments that smell like shit and taste like vomit and sound like the screams of a dying cat; that's what I can smell and taste and hear and it's what I want to leave behind.

So, I don't know when I cross the fence; I don't think it'll have so much to do with courage as it will with hands filled with tears, reaching down from atop the wood and inviting me over. So many hands with so many faces and so many different stories and tears and wounds and fears. Because the shift isn't the end; it's not the fullness; it's simply a shift - I'm just hoping that when Raven flies, he releases the sun that's in his beak and when the sun bounces off of the nothingness and into the sky that the stars are remade, and when the sun stops bouncing that it will find its place in the sky and reveal the potential for creative action in a world yearning for buckets without holes and words and ideas that finally have meaning and experiments that have integrity.

O Lord, please. Hear my prayer.

Living Into Hope...I Hope...

2009-01-18T23:02:00.004-07:00

I borrowed this from my friends (and family) at theashram (thanks Geoff). After a second, meditative read, I began to think of the work that various groups around the world are struggling to live into, various Kingdom experiments such as the emergent, missional, and indigenous conversations going on around the world. Granted, Dr. King was talking about the United States in this speech, but this part of the speech stands true on a global scale:

"We must all learn to live together as brothers [and sisters] or we will all perish together as fools."

So, Dr. King, thank you for your life, your sacrifice, and your words. They give me hope that there is plenty of room at the table for the voices of the other! And thank you, brothers and sisters around the globe who are moving into the invitation of God as the Kingdom continues to come in its fullness.

"Through our scientific and technological genius, we have made of this world a neighborhood and yet we have not had the ethical commitment to make of it a brotherhood. But somehow, and in some way, we have got to do this. We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured."
MLK Sermon Delivered at the National Cathedral, Washington, D.C., on 31 March 1968. Congressional Record, 9 April 1968.

Is the Missional Church's Attempt to "Save the West" a Reaction to Globalization?

2009-01-16T11:29:00.006-07:00

In his book, "God is Red: A Native View of Religion," Vine DeLoria makes this statement regarding churches and Christendom,

"The early Church centered itself in Italy in the city of Rome as surely did the Hebrews center themselves in Jerusalem after they had conquered Canaan. Where the Jewish religion was and is centered in the Holy Land as the specific land of the religion, one cannot help but conclude that Rome is and has become the center of Christendom. With the Reformation the growth of national churches simply meant that each interpretation of the Christian religion had to find a home for itself and the doctrines and devotional emphases followed ethnic preferences. The peculiarities of all European theology can be understood more easily by reference to countries than by comparison of abstract creedal statements and doctrines" (DeLoria, 145).

DeLoria goes on to describe the way that Christianity splintered on the shores of North America by way of the multiple sects that developed after Europeans colonized it. He is discussing both the relevance of land in regard to religion and the way in which the importance of land for Christianity was turned into nationalism and patriotism, as is obvious in my home country, the United States.

After reading this, I began to wonder whether or not this idea of "saving the West" by means of freeing itself from the chains of Christendom was a kind of attempt to re-galvanize the Western church for the purpose of continual influence in the West. The church in the West has obviously lost a great amount of its power and influence in culture. Moreover, it would appear as though Western influence is beginning to wane, if we take seriously the impact of the United States on the global scene and how much of the globe is currently quite unhappy with the U.S. The life we live on planet earth has begun and continues to move toward globalization. I'm not entirely sure that Western influence will wane as much as some would like; we may have to wait on that one.

So, what does DeLoria's quote and a missional way of church have to do with one another? In this day and age, we have developed the technology to take a splintered world and paste it back together (kind of). Though various sects (denominations) have differing theologies, it would seem as though living a missional lifestyle can further bring these splinters back together. However, is the Western church simply attempting to create its center in the West once again as a reaction to globalization, through the missional way of doing church? Such that whatever is "the West" becomes what Jerusalem was to Israel, what Rome was to early Christians, etc.? And if so, what might the implications of this be?

So, can the west be saved/converted? Probably. Can the West be saved by those inundated with a Western worldview, albeit influenced by the message of Jesus? I don't think so, not alone at least, especially since there is a continual disregard for the marginalized voices. Here's the kicker, and my big question, "Should the West be saved?" As we move further forward toward a global village, can we, as a myriad of voices, people groups, and expressions of Christ's body begin to ask the question, "how can the global village be saved?"

[These are loose thoughts on something I'd like to further nail down. I simply didn't want to lose these thoughts. I'd love to know yours though.]

Intro to Missional (plus, they're fun videos)

2009-01-14T22:23:00.002-07:00

There are four of these videos. They're cute, to the point, and have obviously ripped off Mac, but if you've ever wondered what the heck missional is, these might be helpful. They're only about two minutes long; I'll post the first two now.

I Need More than Just a Vowel; Can I Have a New Word?

2009-01-12T21:59:00.004-07:00

I need a new word to describe what I'm looking for. Not new as in has never existed. Just new for me, like a used car is new to its most current owner. I don't want to be converted to someone's idea of what it is, especially not on my first encounter. I felt very deeply what a stranger being introduced to Jesus must feel when attacked with "the gospel" last night. This encounter reminded me that I'm looking for a new word.

I was in an acquaintance's house for the first time when she asked me to describe my community in Kentucky. She then tried to convert me to her church, which Jeanine and I have been visiting. She tried to tell me that it would replace my previous experience, that their small groups were exactly what we were looking for. She told me she knew exactly what I was talking about. I don't like being converted by strangers. So, she asked me what my opinion of the church was; I told her she probably didn't really want to hear my opinion. She told me I was wrong. When I told her what I felt, she rebuked me like we were old friends. I told her I was uncomfortable having this conversation. She reminded me why I've been looking for a new word. She reminded me why I left a church like hers. She reminded me why I don't have these conversations right off the bat. She reminded me of a lot of things.

Some days are better than others, as far as looking for this new word goes. It's a new word for Christianity; I just don't want to be a Christian anymore. I'm not trying to get on the popular bandwagon of bashing the Church; I just don't really want to be a part of it anymore. I feel torn and most days I just don't really feel safe. Maybe my expectations for safety are too high; it takes a long time to develop that space, I guess. I've found people looking for a new model; I've found people interested in the houses on the streets that square off their neighborhood; I've found people who want to talk deep for depth's sake; the only place I find solace is in the arms of my wife; and I find my pillow wet with tears because of the people I left behind. If heaven is on earth, it sits at places like 511 W. 3rd St, 622 Golfview Dr., and that beautiful office building on High Street. It looks like an office building in the basement of an old church building. And the expectations of its citizens are high, equal to its depth of grace when the inevitable failure occurs. I could use some of that grace because I feel like I'm failing miserably to overcome. I need a new word, one that describes the pleasurable feeling of failing to be just like all those Christians out there. But at the same time describes the painful experience of struggling to belong.

"Sometimes we're tired of the struggle..." Martyn Joseph

A Missional Camelot and the Emergent Knights of the Round Table

2009-01-07T14:14:00.003-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a story of a grand kingdom, ruled over by king Arthur and protected by his wonderful knights, all of whom gathered together for weekly meetings at their table round. Within this kingdom, the sun always shone brightly and the rain came only when the flowers, plants, and crops needed to be watered. Everyone got along splendidly, for the most part, and there were very few miseries that existed in this kingdom. The story goes way beyond this idyllic scene of harmony and peace, including evil witches, adultery, and other harmony destroying aspects, but that's not really what I'm getting at today.

What I am getting at is the current once upon a time. There is a recent conversation being had within Western Christianity regarding a paradigm shift, change of perspective, and a revamp of the Church, both internally and externally. The primary players in this conversation, though arguably it is two conversations that sometimes overlap, are the missional and emergent voices. The critiques, theses, ideas, and practices coming out of these conversations are, for the majority, good ones and worth taking the time to investigate. However, as much as there is a lot of good being offered, there are still some major problems that exist. Thus Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table.

The missional and emergent conversations have begun to dig some good ground in the way that the Church might need to transform. However, both groups appear to take the banner for whatever is the Western Church and claim to be the voice of renewal and/or transformation for that body. This wouldn't be so problematic if the emergent and missional conversations weren't, at least on the public face of things, so very white (and for the most part, male). This could easily turn into a gripe session, though it could just as easily be neglected because of the complexities that are involved in overcoming this problem; I would rather err on the side of complexities than a gripe session. My intention is not to gripe, but as a white male myself, to point out a very destructive oversight. There exist within the world today groups of Christ followers whose voices parallel these conversations; it may be fair to say that these voices have been speaking in this regard prior to the arrival of missional and emergent. Many of those voices are indigenous ones, men and women who are the host people of countries like Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United States. However, these voices and their mouths and faces do not appear at the table. No one seems to be willing to give up the limelight (read: power) in order to allow a marginalized person(s) to sit in their seat.

Emergent and missional cohorts, hubs, and groups continue to have conversations about what it means to be in community, what it means to see and love the "Other," what it means to move ahead, what it means to not be what a Constantinian church was. It would seem to these observing eyes that including people whose cultures inherently include community, people who have for hundreds of years been the "Other," and who, because of cultural expression, may be the least effected by the Constantinian system (except, of course, for the nature of colonialism and its atrocious effects, both past and present, on indigenous people, of which the Western Church was/is a large player) would truly begin to move the body of Christ out of its current state of malaise and ineffectiveness within the world.

Though a white male committed to living a missional lifestyle, as a person who-by-marriage now walks with indigenous uncles and aunties, and does not see their faces at the table, I cannot help but think that if the missional and emergent participants continue to move forward without these voices at the table, then they will not, when the rubber hits the road, be the effective agent of change that potentially exists for the Church. Moreover, I dare not speak for these folks; this is my observation. What I observe regarding indigenous voices and peoples is their faithfulness to God's kingdom and their continued faithfulness to include people who are different from them. A Canadian First Nations leader once told me, "Dan, there is not an instance in history when the majority approached us to reconcile. It was our people who first discussed treaty; it has been our people to first seek reconciliation; do not be surprised that it is we inviting them to our table." Maybe the Church won't mirror those majority powers; maybe they already have.

The Kingdom of God is not Camelot. Camelot was a pretty lily white kingdom. And the voices around the table of the wedding feast are not simply white male ones. That being the case, maybe soon and very soon is the time to begin to reflect that table rather than the current round table of white men and women that exists at the moment - good and necessary ideas and practices, though still very very lacking in flavor.

Halfway to Everywhere...

2009-01-05T10:28:00.003-07:00

This morning, I was listening to the Black Crowes; actually, I was watching old concerts on YouTube, and came across Halfway to Everywhere. What a great song! What a great metaphor for life, too. Sometimes, though I'm not sure this is where they were going with the song, I feel halfway to everywhere in a way that fries my brain and makes me exhausted. Halfway to reconciliation, halfway to missional, halfway to truth, halfway to Jesus, halfway to worldview, halfway to healthy living; you get the point. I've felt this way for a while, and to be honest, it's pretty damn frustrating. The question of what do I want or what do I want to do are questions not easily answered for me. I want to follow Jesus, love people, and help them follow Jesus is a pretty vague, boundary-less description of what I want to do. It's both freeing and frustrating. It doesn't exactly make a paycheck though it can be done while working. Maybe in describing that, I'm making more of an ontological statement than a behavioral one. Who I am will be who I am whether I am building houses, preaching sermons, or serving hamburgers; being, character, personhood transforms based upon experience, though if I can live with the loose definition above, hopefully it will be a transformation the likes of what living as a Christ follower can develop. It's just a question of whether or not I can live, sanely, halfway to everywhere.

Thoughts from Merton

2008-12-31T11:23:00.002-07:00

"The truth I love in loving my brother cannot be something merely philosophical and abstract. It must be at the same time supernatural and concrete, practical and alive. And I mean these words in no metaphorical sense. The truth I must love in my brother is God Himself, living in him. I must seek the life of the Spirit of God breathing in him. And I can only discern and follow that mysterious life by the action of the same Holy Spirit living and acting in the depths of my own heart."
Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island, Harcourt, 1983.

To Be or Not to Be...Normal

2008-12-29T08:31:00.005-07:00

Normality seems to be an idea lacking these days in circles of change, in places where people scheme and strive and struggle to bring about transformation and hope for our society and our cultures. No one seems to be looking to John and Jane Doe for advice on life; instead, it would seem as though we look to the next Mr or Mrs. Wow and Mr. or Mrs. Instant Change. This is a regular occurrence within human history; it is a rarity to seek to follow someone plain, someone simple. Someone normal.
Maybe a part of the problem is that history has erased the normality of those whom we call great; so, instead of seeing their normal lives, we see their lives of power, achievement, success, and transformation. And in seeing those aspects of their lives, we seek to emulate them in those ways. We seek to erase our own normality.
Yet, there seems to be a power to normality. To blending in with the crowd, to just being one of the guys (or girls). To relating to the masses as the masses instead of above, or in charge of, the masses. Granted, this is not always a blind following of the mob mindset though it is always an entering into the mob for the purpose of change and transformation.
I have been struggling with this for the past few months. I have been wrestling with what it means to simply be faithful. I think there is a relationship to this idea of normality and faithfulness. Most of the people that I know that are living lives of transformation and change are pretty normal, everyday John and Jane Does. Like the one they follow, they have no real desirable appearance. They're not wow people.
I'm not entirely convinced that Jesus was a wow person. I think that history has made him a wow person and erased his normality. Yet, Jesus of Nazareth was both normal and faithful. He was faithful to the Father's message of love, repentance, and kingdom living. And he suffered for it; obviously, he died for it. Yet, he didn't reap the fruit of joy until after he'd suffered - rejected by friends, whipped nearly to death, spat on, mocked, and, finally, crucified. On top of various attempts by authorities to stone him, throw him off of a cliff, etc.
I think that I'm just beginning to learn that there is hope in normality and faithfulness. To be honest, I'm getting a little sick of hearing the folks who want to be the next Mr. or Mrs. Wow. I want to meet the person(s) who are being faithful to kingdom values and love for neighbor in the simple doldrums of everyday life. I am finding that there is hope to fight the temptation to erase my own normality; there is still hope of escaping self-exaltation.
What if the very thing that we are searching for to transform the world is ingrained in our very nature? What if the simple fact of being neighbor, friend, brother, sister, oil change technician, water filtration system maintenance lady, or local librarian is that next big wow that we keep skipping over? What if the power of transformation is in the simple living of a faithful lifestyle of love for neighbor and kingdom of God living with the normal John and Jane Does next door?

Western Renewal?

2008-12-17T18:51:00.004-07:00

I must make a disclaimer here. The only context I have regarding Western culture is my own in the United States and, now, in the past four months living in Canada. For the past three or four years, I have been involved, partially, in what is becoming the "Missional" movement. This means that various peoples in North America are attempting to challenge the current manifestation of the Church to consider the idea that God has, first and foremost, called his people into mission, as God has been in mission from the get-go.

One of the major tenets of this movement is a renewal of the "Western" church. The Western church is that institution that exists in a Constantinian mold - hierarchical in structure with a "come-to-us" mentality. It is believed that by returning to, or moving forward into, this concept of being missional that the Western church can be given new life. The key players in this movement, currently, include Michael Frost, Alan Hirsch, Alan Roxburg, and others. There are other groups that are probably missional but do not necessarily fit into the categories that Frost, Hirsch, and Roxburgh have created or are continuing to create.

Now, unless one has their head in the sand, it is obvious that North America is taking quite a hit in regard to its economy, which obviously impacts the global economy. Moreover, the United States seems to be taking quite a hit in regard to its influence globally. As far as Canada is concerned, I cannot speak to this. So, Barack Obama is elected President in the U.S., and it is hoped that he will be a shining beacon of light for the U.S. in the global community. (I voted for him, so at some level, I figure I hope the same). Does Obama represent a hope for renewal of the United States?

Here is my question, and the whispered observation in the back of my mind: why renew the Western church? What causes these white, Western leaders to want to bring renewal to what is the church in North America and the West? And how does this renewal of the Western church parallel a sense of needed renewal in Western civilization in general? If the renewal in the Western church and the renewal in the West (generally) are parallels, then how is the Church acting any differently than she has for the past 1500 years? Anyone worth their salt can attest to the fact that the Church is usually a decade behind the culture. If this is the case, then is this idea of Missional Church really something "new?" Granted, the concept behind being missional is needed; in my opinion, it's probably the strongest argument, biblically, for a manifestation of what it means to be the Church in any time or place. But renewal for the Western church? Not a huge fan. Is Western culture going to die? Not any time soon, I don't imagine. Is it taking a back seat? I think only history and my great great grandkids will be able to answer that question. Do I think it ought to take a backseat? Yeah, admittedly, I think it ought to for a period of time, at least until other cultures are given a chance for equality in the space where Western civilization moves back. Is that going to happen? Doubtfully. Is it my prayer? Every day.

Listening...

2008-12-15T09:38:00.005-07:00

I'm finding it amazing how redemptive embarrassing moments can be. Last Thursday, I was embarrassed when a friend of mine pointed out to me that I was not listening to him share part of his life's story. We have since then, fortunately, had some very rich conversations regarding listening and becoming.

This morning, I pulled a book off of the shelf entitled "Lectio Divina." Divine Reading. I did so because, after having these conversations with my friend, I find myself deeply desiring to, once again, listen for the voices of the Trinity and what they are saying to me. I would like to think that I try and hear the voice of the Trinity in all of life; however, I sometimes feel as though I would be hokey if I tried to turn every experience into a hearing from God. So, it simply seems appropriate to relearn lectio divina.

One of the riches concepts regarding lectio is the idea that we, as beloved, enter this practice in order to hear from God, our Lover. For me this is (and has for a long time been) a difficult concept to grasp. I can easily conceive of God as savior, as lord (though my life may not always reflect this), judge, creator, but not so easily as lover. There are probably a variety of reasons for this, not the least being how I perceive of myself and whether or not I am even worthy to be called beloved. But, it's true. I am beloved by our Lover. Creature loved by Creator. Redeemed loved by Redeemer. Slave loved by Master. Friend loved by Friend.

So, as I experiment with lectio divina, it is my hope to hear the voices of the Trinity speaking to me when they speak, as they speak. In turn, I hope that experimenting with this also builds upon my ability to better listen to others, and in hearing them, discern where, how, (...or not...) God is speaking. I simply always want what I do in private with the Trinity to effectively interweave with who I am in community, with others, in those places where human eyes are ever watching.

Push Button for...Transition

2008-12-14T14:39:00.005-07:00

Isaac Asimov once said, "Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." For me, currently, "It's the transition that's a BITCH!" fits better.

Jeanine and I were driving home from the farm today discussing new relationships, how to form those relationships, how to nurture them, and how to simply have them. I've never thought that making friends was a difficult task; however, I haven't really had to make new friends for the past four years. And the friends I had then were, more or less, as interested in being authentic as was I. I feel like I'm walking through really thick mud these days, trying to figure out new friendships that Jeanine and I are developing. Moreover, forming friendships as a married couple is an entirely different thing for us both as well. This topic never came up in pre-marital counseling. Push button for transition!

I'm thinking that the new friends we have are interested in authenticity; it's just that they're new. And I've never thought of myself as one to try and impress folks, but after saying some embarrassing things on Thursday, I realized how untrue that is. Fortunately, the person in front of whom I embarrassed myself knew ahead of time the struggles with which I've been wrestling. He knows I'm working toward not being so damn serious all of the time. He knows I'm trying to learn how to translate all of the theology, intentionality, and overall new language I've learned these past four years. I guess my confession is just this - I'm hoping folks with whom I'm just coming into relationship are willing to work through the fuck ups that we make in the beginning of these relationships. Ugghh...

And then there's the entire non-abstract reality of transition. I think the process that I'm resisting is trying to figure out how to hold onto the friendships, relationships, memories, etc. that existed in the world I just left. I still, very much, remain in a liminal state in my life. I've moved from an old world and have not, as of yet, landed in the new one. So, in my confusion, loneliness, cabin fever, over all inability to interact with Canadian culture, I return to what is familiar to me. Unfortunately, what is familiar to me is apparently alienating to others. Yet, familiarity is also protective and safe. Trust me, I don't want the flesh pots of Egypt, but I'm beginning to realize just how much the Hebrew people must have missed what was familiar to them because I, too, miss what was familiar to me - front porches and beer, garages and coffee, backyards and fire pits, the High Street house, the Golfview house, 3rd Street Coffee, Jeanine's old apartment, 511 W. 3rd St., and other landmarks etched into the soft tissue of my brain.

Peter pushed the button once when he said, "Lord call me out." I feel a little like Peter must have felt right after that first quick intake of breath, step off of the boat, and plunking his foot down on water that shouldn't have held his weight. And there he was, standing in the in-between-place. In between the boat and Jesus. And the most dreadful place wasn't underneath him; it was the distance between him and Jesus. But he didn't reach back to the boat; he must have reached for something familiar because he started to sink - not that doubt was familiar, just that doubt was the byproduct of remembering that the familiar notion is that humans don't stand on water.

I don't want to sink, but I miss my friends, I miss my boys, I miss what was familiar. And I'm not really sure I'm ready to let go of that because I don't know what that fully looks like once my fingers have released their hold.

Quickie

2008-12-13T08:52:00.003-07:00

So, I've recently been reading the book of Matthew, just looking for Jesus' interactions with folks during a meal. It's been quite fascinating; I couldn't believe how many times he was interrupted during dinner, but he took it graciously (or so it would seem). So, the other day, I had to post a side note in my "Study Notes" notebook regarding making amends with folks. The side note looks like a math problem:

"if 'x' offends 'y,' then 'y' makes amends"

"if 'y' offends 'x,' then 'y' still makes amends"

I side-noted it and was just a bit bewildered. I had to ask the question, "what the hell was Jesus thinking?" If someone pisses me off, why am I responsible for making amends if they're the offender? But that's so typical of Jesus; turning our assumptions on their head. But a friend of mine told me, "It doesn't make sense in your culture, where people can just move if they piss each other off. In China, harmony is the most important value. It makes perfect sense when you realize we have ridiculous amounts of people crammed into relatively small areas of arable land. As long as harmony reigns on the surface, real issues can be taken care of via back channels and intermediaries. So as 'y,' I recognize that offense has taken place, and the first priority is to remove the offense, even at great personal cost. Once offense has been removed, then redress can be taken care of in a way that nobody loses face or gets offended anymore."

I love the way other culture helps me to see what Jesus may have been saying. The reason "y" has to make amends in all situations is for harmony. This is helpful to be aware of for me because I now realize that one of the blockades to reconciliation might very well be me - me and my pride. Reconciliation between various people groups is difficult enough; were a disagreement to occur that was simply a cultural misunderstanding, then things could get really hot really quickly. It would seem that what Jesus is saying here could go a really long way in reconciliation. Unfortunately, there aren't rewards to being the only one seeking to apologize or to make amends. But then again, if that's the case, then maybe someone simply needs to do some dusting off of the feet. But only after time and time again of attempting to make amends.

_____________________________________________________________________

Quote(s) of the Day:

"If the U.S. is the whore of Babylon, then the church has been her pimp."

"It's not that those whom you think are voiceless are so. They have voices; the problem is, you are deaf."

Haiku #1

2008-12-01T14:40:00.001-07:00

You are spoken words;

I am eternal speaker.

Go now and live well.

2008-11-30T13:21:00.005-07:00

Walk in an orchard at midnight

under a black and starless sky;

put one foot in front of the next

while the rest of your world sleeps by.

Unidentifiable trees,

whose leaves whip in the cool night air,

whisper a faint, rhymed melody

of melancholy and despair.

Grasp for fruit that you cannot see;

stumble blindly over the roots

and fall headlong into the peat

and wallow here - in the darkness.

A Challenge

2008-11-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

O sweet fool who finds his words freely come,
enter with me into the searing flames
where rushing roar will certainly strike dumb
the voices of your greatest vision and aim,
that with ease you will write a masterpiece
and grasp the treasure of your life – true fame.
Let the fire lick away your disease
burning away the sickness and the dross
and allow me to present you with these –
rhyming and meter and stanza and gloss
and trochee and dactyl and form and foot
so that you will not experience a loss
when the time comes for you to learn true form
and reach beyond what has become the norm.

Realism in the Spiritual Life

2008-11-23T21:04:00.002-07:00

The "new man" is totally transformed, and yet he remains the same person. He is spiritualized, indeed the [Church] Fathers would say he is "divinized" in Christ. This should warn us that it is useless to cherish "ideals" which, as we imagine, will help us to escape from a self with which we are dissatisfied or disgusted. the way of perfection is not a way of escape. We can only become saints by facing ourselves, by assuming full responsibility for our lives just as they are, with all their handicaps and limitations, and submitting ourselves to the purifying and transforming action of the Saviour. It is really tragic to observe the frustration and the ruin which overtake well-meaning but misguided young people who cannot grasp this elementary fact. For such, there is practically no question of a serious religious commitment. And yet they seem to be the ones who, in some way, are most hungry for perfection. The earnestness and intensity with which they seek to break out of the prison which they have become to themselves is so pathetic that it cannot help arousing compassion in all who try to help them. Sometimes, spiritual directors make the mistake of encouraging the illusory idealism hich is the source of all the trouble, instead of trying to bring these poor sufferers to face reality. [Life and Holiness by Thomas Merton, chapter entitled "Realism in the Spiritual Life"]

Mirror

2008-11-14T20:35:00.005-07:00

She will stand in front of you as you progress forward,

though she will not bar your way.

As you move into your future,

away from frustration and nagging remarks,

she will stand in front of you.

She will face you with clarity and truth,

holding out her empty hands

(though you will ignore her)

bent at the elbow so as to show,

no longer held out so as to beg.

She will stand in front of you

while you force your eyes to remain shut,

mirroring your atrocities and genocide,

and she will whisper the names of grandmothers,

grandfathers, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers.

She will whisper while your hands cling to your ears,

fingers thrust so deep that you can only hear your heart beat.

While you continue to ignore her she will mirror your rape,

your schools of learning how to be human, your priests

who would have rather spilled her blood than serve that of Christ.

She will mirror your past. She will

not move and you will not be free. Until you open your mouth

and confess your wrongs, she will walk backward

while you move straight ahead, but she will not move

and, one day you will see.

Visceral Streams of Thought

2008-11-10T12:08:00.004-07:00

I'm lonely. Lonely and struggling with it. I'm lonely in a way that has nothing to do with Jeanine. I know she'll always be there for me; I am hers and she is mine. Yet, if loneliness were the only emotion I was feeling, I think I could deal with it. But the emotions are more visceral than that, and I'm not sure how to deal with it, and am not sure I feel the safety with anyone other than Jeanine to talk about it, at least not in Edmonton. And phone conversations suck because I can't touch the person on the other line, and they can't embrace me and just let me cry it out, which I wish were that easy. If I could just open the pump in my soul and cry out all the pain and anger and bitterness and it would all be gone, that would be great, but emotions stick in places that tears can't get to, it seems. The dark places where only the light of Jesus gets into, but then it's like the Spirit pushes it up and I can only rely on the people around me to talk about it, and then it's like a cycle all over again. And repressing it never helps. Plus, I'm not entirely sure I could ever repress it; God didn't make me that way. He made me raw and loving and deep and sensitive. Sometimes I wish I had harder skin, though it's not the metaphorical shell that matters, is it? It's the soft inner piece that I can't afford to let get hard; it's the soft heart that was put there. I'm lonely and hurting and angry. You know, when I made the decision to come to Canada, I thought it would be different, I thought it would feel different, that leaving everything I knew behind me would change me in a way that I thought would have an easier process than this. I wanted some recognition, a pat on the back; I probably wanted a medal and a cookie, to be honest with you, with myself. Granted, I got the most beautiful person in the world and a loving addition to my family, but this is not about that. It's about loss, not gain. It's about death, not new life. And I miss what I feel like I've lost. I miss my friends in Lexington - people who accepted me for who I was, all my fuck ups included; I miss my boys - the small group of guys who loved me for who I was, who I am. I miss the depth of love and care and support. And here, I'm having to remake friendships, and there are one or two that are very promising, but it's the other interactions that grate against me, like a surgical knife lancing a wound. It's the conversations with people who don't get equality and self-sacrifice. But that's probably getting ahead of myself because then I misdirect my anger for the moment. I think I'm angry at God. Angry because things didn't turn out the way I'd day-dreamed they would. I feel like I don't belong except when I'm in Jeanine's arms or hanging out at the farm, but even then the loneliness seeps in and tries to steal any sense of joy and sanity that clings to my heart. And I'm tired of elevated, lofty ideas about ministry and the church and what all that's supposed to look like. I feel like saying fuck it to all of it. Just let those stupid assholes who can't see beyond their own noses get on with their grandiose ideas of renewal and revitalization and hope. And yet, to turn the other way, to go down the route of singularly focused ministry with the Native folk doesn't seem to fit either, because there's a voice inside my head reminding me that I'm not them, either. I feel so fucking in-between. I can't communicate to the people who look just like me that they're missing the point entirely, that they're not thinking straight - that trying to "Do" something different, something better is the wrong starting point. It's not about moving forward, God damnit!!! It's about looking back, not to some glorious Golden Age but to something deep and bitter and angry and dark and murderous and revelatory of self, of being so wrapped up in something other than the kingdom of God, that the imagery of dirty, sweaty, rotten, violent, adulterous sex is the only way to effectively describe it. And yet, trying to walk with the "other" seems like I'm going to be "that guy." I don't want to be Native. I just want to belong. And I'm so scared to try and work into relationship with older people who look like me because I don't want to regress in the way that I'm coming to see the world. And trying to search for the people who I thought would get it only ended up in disappointment, too. Like trying to have a conversation with C about the western church needing to begin from a stance of repentance and lived out reconciliation. And he didn't get it either, but it's like Jeanine says, "why would he?" Why would he? Why would any of them? It's like unless a person is native or fucking oppressed by the larger society that they don't get. But she's right, why would they? why should they? Should? Should? It's a fucking obvious answer! Should? Maybe because it's exactly what Jesus did. He became Jewish; he became oppressed; he became us, for God's sake. Granted, I can't become Native; even being adopted into the Mi'kmaq tribe wouldn't change that. I was born a white, full blooded American male, a descendant of Indian slave traders, African slave holders, and if you go far enough back, one side of my family (Irish) was suppressed by the other side (English). I know who I am, but I'm not ashamed of who I am, except sometimes I'm ashamed of the culture of which I am a part, though even then, I can't say that I'm ashamed of who I am. I'm different, right? And even there, I want recognition, and then the theological reminder gets going, and I'm remembering that Jesus didn't recognize equality with God as something to be held onto. It's not about recognition, which crucifies me. It's like no matter where I go, no matter what conversations I have, when I'm alone, the loneliness eeks in, like a heavy liquid substance trying to stick me to the ground and immobilize me. And "getting out" doesn't help; there's no less loneliness walking in a crowd of a hundred people than sitting in an apartment all by myself. And I don't want lectures; my mind hurts enough as it is. So, even though I know he gets it at such a deeper level than I ever will, it's hard to talk with T about it, but it's like the very thing I'm trying to talk about effects the whole fucking thing. Because T and B come back from a fund raiser and the very church in which they had a fundraiser is developing a $6 million dollar addition to their church because, in a western worldview, buildings are central to the effectiveness of success in a church's growth. And yet, little ministries around the country who are doing effective work, eek out a living trying to help people find healing, restoration, and life in Creator, Creator's Son, and Creator's Spirit. The Indian Trinity...hahaha....And then something else Jeanine said rips me back into reality, "We need each other." Except that only one side of the relationship seems to want to admit it, and it's the oppressed side. Why don't people preach about these sins? Why don't people talk about the sins of oppression of peoples by other peoples? About manipulation and abuse in relationships? About leaders who don't know how to lead and about ideas that seem good but are really just a redo of a model or of a way that has obviously never worked? Or it has worked but only for a select few. And the "everyone-elses" still get fucked in the end. Injustice. It's such a huge, intangible mess of ideas and projects and mental make-ups that it sometimes seems like not even God in his ultimate power and wisdom could over come it. Except that he already did, right? But you know what seems really fucked up to me, sometimes? And I don't often go here because it scares the shit out of me, but it seems really unfair that the bloody violent death of Jesus was effective for the redemption of the oppressed and the oppressor. I mean he died for the very people who put him on the fucking cross. For the Herods and the Pilates and the Caesars of the world. And everyone who would come after them and recreate the same oppression that they created in their time. He died for them yet died so that what they were doing to other people would be proven to be flaccid and impotent. And yet, when it infiltrates even the church, it doesn't seem very flaccid and impotent at all. It seems erect and fertile, potent, and strong. All in all, it just seems so very fucking unfair.

Meeting Martin

2008-11-07T15:03:00.004-07:00

The day is cold and gray and Martin rummages through the remains. He has ten minutes to collect all he can to fight back the wind that will rip through him when he walks out the door. He approaches me from behind, black hat pulled down over his wild, white hair; two teeth jut out from his otherwise toothless mouth as, with a thick French-Canadian accent, he loudly introduces himself and an onslaught of unintelligible jargon escapes. I look to Sean to help me escape this noisy, ancient remnant of a dying generation. I can’t help but shift back and forth on my feet because of my unease. I can hardly understand his sentences. I catch every second or seventh word. I move up and down one stair at a time. But his eyes, a shocking blue, pop because of the backdrop of his white hair; it’s as though they see right through me, which doesn’t help my discomfort. “Dark times!” I hear as I look into his eyes, followed by a rambling of various words and phrases. I interrupt him to introduce myself, realizing at this point that I don’t even know this crazy man standing directly in front of me. I extend my hand, which he takes. In that moment, I experience momentary translation as Martin introduces himself as Martin Carpenter, son of a Flemish-Jewish father and Scottish mother. A bit more rambling ensues until I hear, “haven’t slept in 45 years,” and I’m thinking, this guy is the antithesis of Rip van Winkle. Except that Martin gets about 30 minutes of sleep a night and roams the streets of Edmonton for the rest of the evening. My thoughts are interrupted again, “but God has given me a big heart and working hands; I worked with these hands all my life until the arthritis set in,” as he touches his shoulders and elbows. “Never been married, don’t have any kids, don’t sleep much” followed by another string I can’t understand. “Hey asshole!” I hear as Martin’s friend descends the stairs, “time to go.” And as they head out the doors, I stretch my head into the cold and gray and shout, “Martin, it was great to meet you,” though he just kept walking, which, unless it’s his thirty minute nap-time, is what he’s probably doing right now.

Untitled

2008-11-02T23:41:00.001-07:00

All she was doing was walking along,
held not so tightly was it in her hand.
When she tripped and fell she had to let go
and dropped it somewhere in the dark rich sand.
There is where she left it, where she lost it,
where by her choice to release and let go
in order to catch herself from falling,
that little seed she inadvertently sowed.
She neither fertilized nor watered it,
instead she went home and lay down to sleep
to recuperate from her stumbling.
When she awoke; she found fruit she could reap.

Untitled

2008-10-29T12:14:00.000-06:00

Knees bend and crack as calloused hands break sod;
sweat drops from pores older than this bought land,
seasoning the remains of carcasses
who once danced and ran and played on her ground.
Seed dies; shell cracks as life slowly collides
with the dust of the long since decayed dead,
a people whose spilled blood and given name
flowed from the hands and mouths of enemies.
And their blood still cries out from the good earth
wailing and mourning and singing their songs,
and while we pretend not to hear their voice
they gift us with fields of wildflowers.

A Love Poem...If I May

2007-09-11T17:43:00.000-06:00

This poem is a little bit of a turn from what I normally post here, but since it still my expression of worship, I figured I'd post it. Oh, when I say that it's my expression of worship, it's not necessarily a "love poem for jesus." Just a love poem. For someone.
______________________________________________________________

Lay me down beside you,
that I might arise in the morning light.
Morning after morning after morning after morning
until the twilight fades into sleep's long night.

Raise me up beside you
from wrinkled sheets and threads worn bare
in the moment the last dew drop
chases the wind into the air.

Lay be down beside you,
I fear to not see your face
so I'll take this moment of eternity
and wrap you up for days upon days upon days.

2007-06-02T08:55:00.000-06:00

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Take these burdens from my back.