wearing out the gospel glove

with sweat on his brow and calf-skin bible in hand, the free-will baptist preacher stoked the hell fire that was most assuredly awaitin' us. he needn't have bothered. i was already in the front pew, begging God's forgiveness.

after the youth minister contrasted the conquering King of Glory on the white horse with the dastardly one riding the pale horse, my feet stumbled down the risers and i waded into the sea of recommittals.

following a particularly penetrating sermon on our proclivity towards judgment, i fixed my eyes on the orange carpet and walked forward to confess. i had sinned against my brothers and sisters by what i had said and left unsaid. instead of awaiting the sifting of the white seat of judgment i had seared my community with my white hot sarcasm and condemnation. i hoped that my words laid the foundation for a long labor of love.

i once detested this apparent desire to participate in every experience of conversion ever created and questioned the authenticity of my catalytically converted heart. in the warmest tones, they had told me time and again that the initial immersion was more than enough. others whispered that once i was saved, my ticket was non-refundable. but their affirmations, well-intended though they were, have never squared with my experience of faith. i have always felt that conversion is not so much a punctiliar as it is a progressive experience. i constantly feel the need to "recommit" my life to Christ and if i dwelt in an altar call environment my ass would be quite familiar with the front pew. so strap on the gospel glove and encourage the accompanist to play her favorite conversion tune. this boy is comin' home.

musing

hello world. sorry that i've been on the lam for a bit. i've been listening to your voices and reading a good bit, but i haven't had time to transcribe my thoughts, fears and feelings. i don't have a ton of time today either, since it is 7:43 a.m. and i need to turn my attention to commodifying Christ. but here are a few of my recent thoughts about my reading and this reality that i find so hard to interpret.

i've found another literary mentor. his name is preacher will and he is a subversive southern baptist preacher from mississippi. in his heartrending biography, titled brother to a dragonfly, will recounts the story of his conversion, his calling to the ministry and the significant role that he played in the civil rights movement of the fifties and sixties. however, as significant as these experiences and events were, they pale in comparison to will's commitment to his brother joe. although will has a number of incredible stories to tell, one gets the feeling that these stories wouldn't be worth a damn if he had failed to be faithful to his brother joe. for some reason that fact tore me to pieces. i think there is far too much media focused upon star crossed lovers and not enough focused on strengthening and stretching the ties that bind. brother to a dragonfly is a notable exception. you can count on me is another.

i stumbled across a quote from vanier this morning. it unmasked my delusions of grandeur and called me to the gritty work of faith. i thought you might like to hear it: "a community is only being created when its members accept that they are not going to achieve great things, that they are not going to be heroes, but simply live each day with new hope, like children, in wonderment as the sun rises and thanksgiving as it sets...the beauty of people is in this fidelity to the wonder of each day" (Community and Growth, pg. 109).

i took mark to see ben folds and rufus wainwright in concert on friday night. it was a beautiful evening on the water and ben folds did not disappoint. however, much to my surprise, i found that i am not much of a rufus fan. like i said on jamie's blog i think he intones like randy travis and his diction is deplorable. all things equal, i'd rather see randy travis.

when i was in high school i told one of my history teachers, who turned out to be a dirty pedophile by the way, that "one day he would work for me." that might have been a little arrogant of me, especially since i am now quite interested in pursuing my teaching certification. i think i would like to teach high school english. in my mind, a successful high school english teacher needs to have a love of language, a desire walk with adolescents through the perilous process of identification and a studied disregard of authority and convention. assuming that this is true, i think i would make a decent teach. if all goes well, i will take my qualifying exams in the spring and start classes next summer.

in case you hadn't heard, on sunday david eckstein hit a walk-off grand slam in the ninth inning to propel the cardinals to victory. the last time that happened was on april 18, 1987, when my family decided to beat traffic by leaving the game a little bit early. that was a lesson learned.