under the rocks. just around the bend.

"eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. the river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. on some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. i am haunted by waters."

so ends norman maclean's classic, a river runs through it. over the past twenty-four hours i have been haunted not by waters, but by words which lie partially submerged in my consciousness and just around the bend of my heart. last night i was so desperate to uncover a few of these words that, ignoring traffic and the curious sounds emitted by a dog in a seatbelt, i read aloud while kellie drove. this morning, sitting alone in my ratty brown chair, more of these words surfaced. if you don't mind, i would like to share a few of these words with you.

"we like to make a distinction between our private and public lives and say, 'whatever i do in my private life is nobody else's business.' but anyone trying to live a spiritual life will soon discover that the most personal is the most universal, the most hidden is the most public, and the most solitary is the most communal." ~henri nouwen, bread for the journey, february 23.

"if i were called upon to state in a few words the essence of everything i was trying to say both as a novelist and as a preacher, it would be something like this: listen to your life. see it for the fathomless mystery that it is. in the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are
key moments, and life itself is grace." ~frederick buechner, now and then

"religions start, as frost said poems do, with a lump in the throat...to put it mildly...or with a bush going up in flames, a rain of flowers, a dove coming down out of the sky. 'i have seen things,' aquinas told a friend, 'that make all my writings seem like straw.' most people have seen such things. through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of their lives, most of them have caught glimmers at least of what the saints were blinded by. only then, unlike the saints, they tend to go on as though nothing has happened." ~frederick buechner, "mysticism" in wishful thinking

"we must pray that God will teach us to love those we do not like and then to like those he is teaching us to love." ~jean vanier, community and growth, pg. 40

"now, here is my secret:
i tell it to you with the openness of heart that i doubt i shall ever achieve again, so i pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. my secret is that i need God--that i am sick and can no longer make it alone. i need God to help me give, because i no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as i no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as i seem beyond being able to love." ~douglas coupland, life after god, pg. 273

thank you for walking with me.

what I'm...

reading: kevin rains' blog. in his most recent post kevin briefly speaks about the disturbing results of a survey conducted by Fuller Seminary's department of psychology. my immediate response to this survey was to thank God that I have yet to become a statistic and to pray for my friends and colleagues who are in danger of becoming one. the post also made me wonder whether a survey of simple/relational/home church leaders would produce similar results.

i am trying to get my hands on the complete findings of the survey. if/when i find them, i'll make them available.

wondering: when is "anonymous" krista going to start a blog?

moving beyond name, class and major

On Monday morning at 8 a.m. we gathered for the first time. After the professor made an inane joke about our ability to locate the classroom and provided a brief synopsis of the course, we began the ritual introductions. “my name is bobby” the smiling Korean-American student sitting two seats to the right announced. “last year I completed my MDIV at Gordon-Conwell and am now close to completing my Th. M in preaching. My beautiful wife Claire is a third-grade teacher and our heart’s desire is to do church planting in Japan. As soon as we raise three-quarters of our funds, which we hope to do by next September, we should be on our way!” After bobby stopped speaking, the professor accentuated the student’s curriculum vitae by telling us that bobby was also a bar-certified lawyer in the state of California.

“My name is john,” the student on my right admitted. “I am a third year MDIV student who, Lord-willing, will graduate this May. My wife Wendy and I live in New Hampshire and we serve as youth pastors for a small church in North Union, Maine.” After another ill-fated attempt at humor the professor asked john what his life’s passion was. “My wife and I would eventually like to develop a residential community in which foster children and troubled youths from the ages of 18-22 could make a more effective transition into adulthood.” My ears perked up at the mention of incarnational ministry and I made a personal note to connect with John during the break. His desire to pursue this type of ministry suggested that he could be a useful ally throughout this spring campaign.

After the professor made a remark about the “fascinating” group that had gathered for this class, he glanced in my direction. At that moment, I had a decision to make. Was I going to provide the class with my less than impressive curriculum vitae or was I going to split the curtain and give them a brief glimpse of my heart. 99 times out of 100, when faced with this conundrum, I choose the former option. For some reason, last Monday, I chose the latter.

“My name is Jeff Gentry,” I began. “I am beginning my third, third year of seminary, I lead a home church in Beverly that is known as the Sinners and Saints Christian Community and I make a living mass-marketing The Purpose-Driven Life. Although I sell hundreds of copies of the Purpose-Driven Life a week, I deplore the work.” At this point I knew it was time to lay the cards on the table. “In all honesty, I think that coming to Seminary was a mistake. During the summer between my graduation from Bible college and my matriculation at Gordon-Conwell, I worked with the L’Arche Daybreak Community in Toronto, Canada. You may have heard about this community because Henri Nouwen was pastor there for a number of years. However, I never met him since he died four years prior to my arrival. At L’Arche I was learned more about loving people, the vitality of faith and beauty of community than I could have learned in a hundred years of either Bible college or seminary. However, in the midst of practicing the spirituality of cleaning toilets and assisting the poor I was offered a fifty-percent scholarship to Gordon-Conwell. Since I realized that I would probably never be able to attend Seminary without this scholarship I made the move from L’Arche. Although this move was clearly a mistake, God has redeemed the time by enabling me to take root in this community and attempt to fuse my passions for proclamation and compassion. Recently I have been offered a part-time job with Beverly Bootstraps, which is the leading social service organization in Beverly. I hope that this part-time job blossoms into a full-time position, so that I can have an occupation that lines up with my vocation and put the Purpose-Driven job behind me. I also hope to remain faithful to the little community that God has enabled me to be a part of.” With that, I shut my mouth.

When I began this post, I wanted to tell you a little about the significance of my L’Arche experience. However, I don’t think I am ready to reduce that experience to words or, quite honestly, share that with you. That being said, I think that recounting my introduction is a good first step.

happy haiku friday

relentless traffic

a dog refuses to shit

better than the cube

Breaking News from the Christian Booksellers Association Expo!

Tino Wallenda got Expo visitors to lift their sights literally and figuratively when he performed a highwire walk under the roof of the Opryland Convention Center. Some 70 feet above the hotel's food-court island, he crossed without a safety net, stopping on the traverse to kneel, complete a headstand and share his faith in Christ with the crowd below.

Speaking by lapel microphone as he held his balancing bar, the veteran member of the famous Flying Wallendas spoke about his dangerous act, which he said reminded people "how fragile life is." Pausing on the wire before stepping to safety on the far side, Wallenda invited watchers to "make a new step into eternity, simply by acknowledging we have all missed the mark," inviting them to pray to receive Christ there and then.

Back down to earth, Wallenda appeared at the Bridge-Logos booth in the Expo hall to promote his new book, Walking the Straight and Narrow: Lessons in Faith from the Highwire.


talk about extreme evangelism! our good friend bill will be so proud!

odd encounter of the week

on monday i shuffled up to the short urinal, dropped the fly and prepared to go about my business. i casually noticed that the office extrovert was standing in the slot next to me, but didn't pay him much attention. i realize that some people cannot help but communicate while relieving themselves or dropping a deuce, but i'm not one of them. from my perspective, those moments are slivers of solitude which are not to be interrupted.

of course, the extrovert thought differently. instead of respecting my solitude by keeping his eyes front and center or slightly pointed towards the ceiling, he interrupted my moment with manic eyes and said, "i can't believe that in five weeks i'm going to be a daddy!" though i mumbled some consonant of affirmation, in my mind i was thinking, "what do you want me to do fella? shake your hand?"

walking with Habbakuk

how long, O Lord, will you ignore our cries for justice?

the wicked openly prey upon the weak.

the victims have surrendered all hope

and identify more readily with the victimizers than with you.

the protectors are eager to punish but loathe to prevent all kinds of evil.

how long, O Lord, will you ignore such wickedness?

will the work of the righteous be for naught?

are you unable to respond?

keep on, keepin' on

at the genesis we were flush with idealism. finally free from impersonal programs, happy-go-lucky worship and cliché riddled sermons. we were excited to set a different course. our conversations were liberally sprinkled with adjectives like relational and missional, we promised ourselves that we would be as committed to compassion as we were to proclamation and, let's face it, we thought that thursday night worship and emancipation from program would place fewer demands on both our time and our lives.

i am glad to report that our ideals haven't changed, but they are no longer mere abstractions. relational ministry no longer means a freedom from depersonalizing programs, rather, it means a panic stricken knock on your door at 10 pm on a school night, a lifelong drunk attempting to make you responsible for her welfare and dutifully shouldering the cynicism of a friend. moreover, missional not only means working for compassion in our neighborhood but also inviting those who need compassion into our living room where they unload their crises and offend our bourgeoisie sensibilities. likewise, Christ's mission has required us to realize that just because someone can teach, play three cords or write encouraging letters doesn't mean that they need to use these gifts to meet the needs of the institution. rather, it often requires us to release those we love to do ministry in megachurches (of all places), university science labs and the scores of coffee shops in seattle. learning to incarnate our ideals has been messy, but we have persevered.

i know the proverbial shit has hit the fan, ye sinners and saints, but we have persevered. we are doing the work of the church. we are incarnating Christ's compassion and are faithfully proclaiming his promised reconciliation. we are learning to love the least, our enemies and, as difficult as it often is, one another. i have confidence that, by God's grace, we will continue upon this road. we will not be among those who shrink back and so are destroyed, but will be among those who stand firm and so are saved.

description of the day: the gospel according to tony soprano by chris seay

For some The Sopranos is just another forbidden fruit of cable television. However, others have tasted the sweetness of the gospel story within The Sopranos and have pronounced it good. In this delectable little book pastor and certifiable 'wiseguy' Chris Seay clearly explains how even a dark story such as The Sopranos can help us to understand the consequences of our sin, embrace the promise of redemption and, eventually, pledge allegiance to our real "God-Father."

happy haiku friday!

gull circles above

brown squirrel darts up a tree

how i loathe snow

back by popular demand: name that title

first our women cut their hair, then children were allowed unfettered access to the TV and now ministers of God throughout the land are regularly filling their sermons with clips from secular movies. my friends, immoral decisions such as these have led us down the slippery, slippery slope to a sex-obsessed, lewd form of christianity.

the clearest evidence of the pitiful state we are in, which i like to refer to as sex-vangelicalism, is the way our own publishing houses are using nudity to sell christian books. please take a look at this list of sex-vangelical titles that have been published in the last year. to show you how difficult it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, i, along with the board of deacons have inserted three titles that have yet to be published. see if you can separate the unpublished wheat from the sex-vangelical chaff!

don't date naked
naked fruit: getting honest about the fruit of the spirit
buck naked faith: a brutally honest look at stunted spirituality
naked and not ashamed
adventures in naked faith
naked worship: dancing before the Lord like King David
generation sex: exposing the full frontal assault on american innocence
praying naked
naked parish priest
get naked: honest and authentic worship
naked christian: taking off religion to find true relationship
naked date: 10 evenings that will fan the flame of your marriage

please have your answers in before tomorrow night's tent revival. people who use google, christianconsumer.com or amazon'thewhoreofbabylon'.com to find answers will be considered both communists and liberals.

"hey kellie, check this out: dizzy is boning me again!"

dizzy is unique and special (just like everybody else). one of her more peculiar traits is her tendency to place her rawhide, bone or chew-toy against my body before thoroughly gnashing it. she usually places the object against my leg, which is acceptable, if a little odd (in the moment, i often find myself thinking, "so this is what it would feel like to have a ravenous dog chew on a paralyzed leg"). there are other areas, such as my crotch and my ass, that i refuse to let her place her bone. of course, that hasn't stopped her from trying.

another character added to the drama

kellie and i adopted a dog on saturday, right before our region was scheduled to be pounded by 24-36 inches of snow. how's that for rationality?

the dog's name is dizzy dean. you can read more about her previous life here. when we met her at the shelter, they told us her name was despy which different members of the shelter's courteous and professional staff pronounced 'depsy,' 'despi' and 'de, de, how do you say her name again?' this led us to believe a name change was in order. after toying around with the name 'dispy,' which would be both short for dispensationalist and a creative way of ridiculing fundamentalists, we settled on her current name.

since dizzy hails from a workin' breed (cattle dogs are unaccustomed to the 'g' in 'ing' participles being pronounced) she has a reservoir of energy that needs to be drained on regular occasion. knowing this, i took her out this morning for a walk, which will heretofore be known as the walk from hell.

would you like to hear about the walk from hell? i thought you might...

since beverly received at least 30 inches of snow over the weekend, our routes were rather restricted. we could either walk up to cabot street and contend with a steady stream of cars or we could walk down the steepest hill in town, which also doubles as our street. since dizzy desires to herd anything that moves, she voted for the former. since i do not desire either dizzy or myself to be hit by a car or snowplow, i chose the latter. since i'm the alpha dog at 4 judson, my vote ruled the day. i made a bad decision.

as soon as we headed down the hill dizzy did her best imitation of an iditarod champion. as a result she forced me to ski down judson street. although dr. james would have enjoyed the experience, i found it quite harrowing.

once we made it to the bottom of the hill, a ninety-pound bullmastiff peeked out from behind a stalled car. the dog seemed friendly, wagging her tail and slobbering her way towards us. however, since kate, my other dog whom i am now cheating on with dizzy, pulls this same trick right before she pummels other dogs, i made sure we kept our distance. so there i was, dragging my cattle dog away from the possum playing mastiff and using my best t.j. mackey impersonation ("phil, I will drop kick those fuckin' dogs if they come near me") to keep the mastiff at bay. then, after the mastiff found another patsy to work his magic on, i dragged dizzy up the hill she had just forced me to ski down.

after we made it up the hill, i conceded to dizzy's wisdom and attempted to walk her down cabot street. another bad idea. we made it as far as the hess station before i realized that there was nowhere to walk except in the street. moreover, the drivers (and i do use that term loosely) on the aforementioned street were acting like snow was a performance enhancer for their automobiles. thus, dizzy and i made our way back to the condo. as we were walking down the street i saw a red f-150 with a snowplow ramming snow deeper and deeper into the american legion parking slot. as he pulled back to make another viscous run he waved to let me know that he was aware of us and then throttled back into the slot. confident that the plowman knew that we were on the street, i allowed dizzy to drag me towards home. then, as suddenly as he had rammed into the slot the plowman came barreling out. i raised my leash free hand to remind him that we were there, but he kept coming. and kept coming. and, you get the picture, the next thing i knew, the gate of the truck bumped into me, i slammed my fist into the gate and hit the ground. fortunately, the rear wheel finally came to a stop.

while valiantly suppressing the filth-flarn-filth that i wanted to say, i got up out of the snow, brushed myself off and began to walk towards the condo. at this point the plowman finally saw me and asked if i was ok. i told him i was fine and made some conciliatory comment about the tight quarters on our street. at that point he noticed the American Airlines patch on the flight line jacket i swiped from my dad several years back. "hey, do you work for american airlines," he asked (and in so doing became the 1,000,000 stranger to ask that question). no, i muttered, my dad does. "do you think they're open today?" he asked. "i dunno," i muttered. "the airport says that only one runway is operating. things are probably messy." with that, i edged around the truck and headed towards the condo.

thus ended the walk from hell.

happy haiku friday!

climb every mountain

forge every stream and follow

people magazine

no rhyme or reason

dr. dobson, let's focus on this fact: only heteros use the the sponge.

and, tat for tit, it's also idiotic that another segment of the populace assumes that spongebob is gay simply because he regularly holds hands with patrick. based on that logic, nearly every woman i laid eyes on in europe is a lesbian.

description of the day: inauguration edition

Persecution by David Limbaugh

Under the guise of the first amendment the liberal left is removing prayer from schools, the mere mention of Christ from elementary school "holiday" pageants and the very foundation of our law from the Alabama Supreme Court House. In "Persecution" David Limbaugh shines the light on the darkness that is the liberal left and commands Christians to reclaim their first Amendment rights. If Christians fail to return this country to her godly foundations and the faith of her fathers, the sham of political correctness will pale in comparison to the "Persecution" that will follow.

for Nita on her eightieth birthday

last night i dreamed of hominy
fake redwood porches
cement statuary and satellite t.v.

last night i dreamed of hominy
the bright lights of cleveland
the city pool and and the pull of wal-mart

last night i dreamed of hominy
asphalt drives resulting in broken hips
a pearl-handled .357 and a cowgirl

last night i dreamed of hominy
reflected on a life well-lived
a reservoir of grace, hospitality and industry

last night i dreamed of hominy
but my heart was set on Juanita
a woman that i love

a tale of two deliveries

everyone loves mail. whether you’re an eight year old waiting for a hot (birthday) check from grandma or you're compulsively stalking the campus mail room to see if your criterion edition of the royal tennenbaums has finally arrived from amazon, you've got to love the sight of a full mailbox, the request to sign for a delivery and the inexplicable joy of bubble wrap.

i only mention this because earlier today a member of our mail team interrupted my work to have me sign for a package. over the past couple of days i have seen rhys sign for packages that held scintillating titles like jonathan edwards: a life, God's politics and calvinism in the las vegas airport, so i as my eager fingers ripped open the manilla envelope i was awash with expectation.

the eagerly awaited result: a pre-publication copy of christian wisdom of the jedi masters. although i know that according to the code a jedi is not to show emotion, I was pissed.

today we're offering guidance divine, for the deeply discounted price of $9.99!

Why am I here? That's a good question pastor Rick! Thank you for delivering me from a life punctuated with questions and frustrations by providing the answer for $1.49!

What is my purpose? I thought that my sole purpose is to love both God and my neighbor sacrificially. But maybe I've misunderstood. Thanks to pastor Rick, for just $9.99 and forty days of my life I can fill in the gaps.

What's God's plan? Apparently his plan is for our church to buy the forty days of purpose program. Then we can: hang those cool banners in the Wilcox's living room, exchange the tedious task of studying the text of Habbakuk for a handful of pre-fabricated sermon outlines and craig, art and james can trade in their guitars for an accompaniment track full of awesome songs!

In all seriousness, what is my purpose? I don't know. But my hunch is that it's not to mass-market Christian programs in order to sustain my ministry with sinners and saints. I can't continue to proclaim a holistic gospel while living this compartmentalized life.

question one of the heidelberg catechism

"what is your only comfort in life and in death?"

"that i am not my own, but belong, body and soul, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ."

while i readily assent to this answer it is only rarely evident in my life. i long to incarnate this answer more faithfully in the coming year.

so when...

i have a mind for leisure, but there is ministry left to do, i will find comfort in the service of others.

there is opportunity to expose my brother or sister's offense, i will take comfort in Christ's atonement and find the strength to forgive seventy times seven.

my pessimism and/or hypochondria encourages a fear of death i will take comfort in the promised resurrection.

the church succeeds i will credit Christ. when we fail i will take comfort in Christ's promise that the gates of hell will not prevail.

i am tempted to mindlessly insert my opinion i will take comfort in being quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.

simply stated, my prayer is that my assensus will flower forth into fidelitas.

description of the day

The most recent bowl of Chicken Soup has been specially prepared for the Nascar Soul. In Chicken Soup for the Nascar Soul, superstar drivers such as Jeff Gordon and Bobby Labonte will inspire you with stories about the teamwork, dedication and courage that it takes to win both the Nextel Cup and the race of life. You've been amazed by the blazing speed and intense competition of Nascar. Now, let the men of Nascar amaze you with their heart-warming stories.

happy haiku friday!

friends, let us eschew

individualism

for the smell of church

survey says...

david and bubble-bathsheba and john the baptist: wet and wild were the two titles that were actually published. these books were a part of a series that was intended to help children move beyond legalism by identifying how elements of the sacred are woven into even the most secular pursuits (i.e., adultery, murder and porn). although these titles are currently out-of-print you might be able to locate copies in the amazon market place or by attending one of the warehouse sales our large consumer-driven christian company holds on a quarterly basis.

congratulations to mr. brian simkins for providing the correct answer. as a reward he will be receiving a brand-new copy of flaming dog-poo and the human response sometime within the next 4-6 weeks.

name that title!

in my work at the large consumer-driven christian company i sometimes come across christian books with titles that are often odd and sometimes scandalous. today i have compiled a list of eight of these titles. your job, dear reader, is to distinguish the titles that were actually published from the titles that were produced by my original-sin stained mind. two of these titles were actually published. which ones were they?

without further adieu, the titles:

learning to love like lot's daughters
david and bubblebath-sheba
solomon speaks out on monogamy
from pimp to promise-keeper: the life of Abraham
jeremiah eats it
john the baptist: wet and wild
fatty fall down: the life and times of eli the high priest
from whore to holy: the adventures of mary magdalene

please note: the winner of this contest will not receive a cash prize, copies of the actual titles or even "brownie points." however, upon request, the winner can, upon request, receive a flaming bag that will be delivered directly to his or her porch. please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. employees of the large consumer-christian company may not enter this contest. void where prohibited.

description of the day

marriage under fire by dr. james dobson

Homosexual activists, rogue judges and liberal politicians are on the verge of destroying the institution of marriage. When are Christians going to take a stand? In Marriage Under Fire Dr. James Dobson exposes the elaborate schemes of the homosexual activists and provides unassailable arguments against homosexual marriage. Furthermore, Dr. Dobson provides a clear battle plan for Christians who are ready to fight for the preservation of our families and nation. Do not miss this opportunity to take a stand!

listening to vanier

last night i began, yet again, to read jean vanier's community and growth. halfway through the introduction i found myself tottering on the precipice of tears and wondering why i have set this book aside so many times. since i am planning to write either a series of reflections or a serious review of the book in the future, i thought i might whet your appetite by sharing a few salient quotes and one remarkably beautiful metaphor.

"the destruction of intimate community has been at our own hands. it corresponds to our own hierarchy of values...as much as we yearn for community, we yearn even more for the social and economic prizes mobility can bring." vanier, community and growth, pg. 2.

"community means more than the comfort of souls. it means, and always has meant, the survival of the species." vanier quoting parker palmer, ibid., pg. 3.

"we expect a theophany of which we know nothing but the place, and that place is called community." vanier quoting martin buber, ibid., pg. 8.

young people must be led to "true community where they can become men and women of prayer and compassion, open to others and to the world, particularly the poor, the oppressed, the lost, and the vulnerable, and thus become artisans of peace." vanier, ibid., pg. 5.

artisans of peace. that just killed me.

product description of the day

captivating by john and stasi eldredge

Confused by your femininity? Then pre-order Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge! In Wild At Heart John Eldredge challenged millions of men to exchange their apathy for a life filled with passion. Now, in Captivating, John and his beautiful bride Stasi challenge women to rediscover their heart, unveil their beauty and embark on the great adventure of their lives. Expect Captivating to send shockwaves of spiritual renewal throughout the American church!

book review of the week

Early in the morning, often before the break of dawn, my cat Buddy saunters over to my bedroom door and softly meows until I let him in. In his own simple, beautiful way Buddy longs to be intimate with his master. Over the years Buddy's example has reminded me of the importance of rising early in the morning to spend time with my Master. As silly as it sounds, Buddy has taught me how to pray. In Cat Psalms you will delight in dozens of stories about how God's creatures, especially cats, can encourage us to enter into a more fulfilling relationship with our Creator.

Also Available:

Dog Psalms

Pet Psalms, 2 Volume Pack

reader/response

Prov. 1:22-23

“how long, o simple ones, will you love being simple?
how long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge?
If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my Spirit to you;
I will make my words known to you.”

God help me, but I have been scoffing at your salvation. I have considered myself too sophisticated and urbane to point people to your cross and speak of the salvation found in Jesus. Instead of proclaiming salvation I have simply promoted nurturing human relationships that are sprinkled with a little spirituality and occasionally interrupted by prayer.

God help me! Pour out your Spirit upon me so that I might develop a deeper understanding of your salvation and reckon once again with the One who saves us from our sins. I openly confess that in regard to salvation I am one of the simple ones. I think that salvation is so much more than the individualistic pardon and season pass to heaven that others spoke of in my youth, yet it is also surely more than the vague promise of wholeness and the eventual realization of justice that the progressives proclaim. Although seminary trained, in regards to salvation I a simpleton who knows next to nothing. I have little conception of the transcendent wonder and beauty of the place which lies at the end of this narrow path. But, on account of your grace, I once again believe that the place is enchanted. As a result, I recommit myself to looking for, understanding, dreaming about and anticipating the salvation you have provided for your children.

I repent of both my ignorant assumption of sophistication and scoffing tongue. So pour out your Spirit. Make your words known. Reveal your salvation known to this scoffer and simpleton.

a revelatory cliché

the devil is in the details. that's what they say and i don't feel a pressing need to refute them.

however, i am beginning to believe that the opposite is also true: the gospel is also in the details. this assertion seems pretty clear in Jesus' teaching, where he warns that denouncing a person as a fool can lead you down the highway to hell and extending a cup of water to the thirsty is a way of lavishing love upon Christ.

but while this assertion is clear in Jesus' ministry, i confess that it has not been clear in my life. over the past two years i have let many of the details of gospel ministry slip through the cracks. i have written few encouraging notes, followed up on few former members and visitors and have rejected far more calls than i have accepted--leaving many stories untold, sins unconfessed and a congregation which has been deprived of the love of listening.

i repent of my indifference to the details. for it seems to me that it is in the details that the gospel lives, moves and has its being.

boomer what?

so the sooners got their heads handed to them last night. what a shame.

around ten on a tuesday morning

Lord, i don't want to be here right now. i hate being confined in a cubicle. i hate commodifying the gospel for mass-consumption. i hate the blatant hypocrisy that this job requires.

yet i realize that every task has something to teach and, in my better moments, i am convinced that this task is trying to teach me something about perseverance. and perseverence, unless i am mistaken, is a key to the holy and hidden heart of it all.

so Father, guide me through another never-ending eight-hour day. Jesus, teach me to be your incarnation in this place. Spirit, remind my heart of the mysterious connection between perseverance and salvation.

my heart's desire is to work out my salvation with fear and trembling. even within the confines of this damn cubicle.

yet another narcissistic note

when i was young i was terrified to be away from home. time and again i tried to leave 12505 E. 37th place for a night, and time and again i realized that i could not bear to be away. late in the evening, after my friend and i were played out, but before my parents went to sleep, the tears trapped in my eyes would start to flow and i would phone my parents in order to request a speedy return. after a time, things changed.

when i turned twelve my father went to work for american airlines. as a result, I was granted flight privileges and almost immediately became a standby vagabond. after my first trip, to spectacular, sophisticated cincinnati, i was hooked. i loved to visit other cities in order to see how they did life. after carefully observing the little distinctions that identified each city, such as the type-a professionalism of d.c., the suburban indulgence of dallas, the multiculturalism of toronto and the religious rhythms of assisi, i longed to incarnate these distinctions in my life. as a result of this longing, i found myself constantly on the go. charleston, south carolina, nice, france, vienna, austria were not merely destinations. rather, they were tutors that shaped the way i thought about both the world and my place in it. but, after a time, things changed.

after returning from our extended vacation i have realized that my vagabond instincts have vanished much like my beloved standby status. i now find it difficult to be away from beverly for more than six days and when my plane touches down at logan or manchester i feel a palpable sense of relief. after nine years of wandering i have found my way home. i believe that beverly, massachusetts is the place where my physical geography and spiritual geography intersect. i can no longer look without, to the cities and other ports of call for hints about who i am or who i need to be. Rather, it is here in Beverly that i will be who i already am. it is on this canvas that my life will be expressed. i pray that my beloved city is better for it.

ten things i've learned during christmas vacation

1. comair sucks. when they delayed our flights the day before christmas eve and so forced us to fly into the wal-mart airport instead of tulsa, i found myself saying, "comair, i have a feeling your whole family is going down."

2. only an idiot offers to eat a stick of butter for $15. the wise man holds out for $35.

3. my michael jackson jokes are always a hit!

4. similarly, people love to hear about my father's inability to pronounce peanu(t)s.

5. if you are underage and trying to sneak a bud light at a family function, always use the ubiquitous red cup.

6. scrubbing the dishes atones for a score of sins.

7. always tie the chainsaw to the ladder.

8. morticians use less make-up on a corpse than most southern women use on themselves.

9. there is a providential correlation between one's growing love for family and the increasing complications one's family provides.

10. elmo is a fiery demon straight from the pits of hell. if any of you buy an elmo doll that sings his name to the tune of ymca or any other noise producing toy for my future brood, i will curse you for life...right after i return the annoying garbage to fortress wal-mart.

on a more serious note, if your heart has been rent by the tragic tsunami that has devastated the asian rim and sri lanka, consider making a contribution to serve life's relief fund. i think that providing financial assistance will be at the top of sinners and saints' agenda when we gather once again.

reader/response

Prov. 19:11--"a man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense."

my beautiful wife is a bit forgetful. put her in an office and she will quickly andd efficiently systematize the files, balance the books and even help you maintain a sustainable schedule. but her personal life is a bit more scattered. if you've ever tried to call her cell phone, you can bear witness to this truth. during the weekdays her cell phone often resides on our dresser and throughout the weekend its is safely locked in an office drawer.

usually i find her forgetfulness quite funny, especially since her cell phone disability has turned into an ongoing joke. however, occasionally her forgetfulness will frustrate me to the point that i say something snide. of course, these snide comments are best kept to myself, for i have found that my failure to overlook an offense usually comes back to bite me in the ass.

for instance: last july, after carrying a good deal of furniture and innumerable boxes down the labyrinthine stairs that lead to our basement, kellie and i, along with our friend mark, decided to call it quits for the evening. since we had worked quite hard and we wanted to thank mark for his work, we headed down to a thai restaurant on the corner for dinner. before we headed out the door i told kellie that i did not have my wallet on me and asked if she had her purse with her. she asserted that she did, so we shuffled our exhausted asses down to the thai joint.

after dinner our attentive waitress brought over our bill and kellie opened her wallet to get the debit card. unfortunately, the card wasn't there. she told me she had simply misplaced it. when i asked her where she might have left it she told me that she didn't know, but it could be in a target sack. needless to say, i found the idea of anyone from the cart boy to the waste disposal man having access to our account quite nauseating, so i muttered something snide and condescending before instructing kellie to stay at the restaurant while mark and i went back to our condo for my card. i couldn't believe that she misplaced that (*&^% card, i thought! anyone could have access to that card and we're going to need every penny to pay our first mortgage bill.

in a short time, mark and i returned to the restaurant and i paid the attentive waitress immediately. immediately thereafter we went back the condo, mark headed home and kellie and i collapsed due to both mutual exhaustion and frustration. the next afternoon, after shopping at a local furniture store, kellie and i went to subway for lunch. when we reached the cash register at the end of the bar i pulled out my wallet and reached for my debit card, only to find that it wasn't there. again, my heart raced with the irregular beat that financial quandries so readily produce and i panicked. where was the debit card? had i left it one the dresser? was in it in the front pockets of the dirty jeans that i threw into a corner? did i leave it on the kitchen table? after freaking out for a moment, i realized where the card resided: the thai restaurant on the corner. so, after using kellie's debit card to pay for the meal, we went straight to the restaurant, where the attentive waitress was only too happy to give me back my debit card. needless to say, my tail was between my legs.

on account of this experience i learned that it is not only man's glory, but also a reflection of his wisdom to overlook an offense. for if he fails to do so, especially in marriage, it will undoubtedly bite him in the ass.

i remembered this lesson the other day when, somewhere between the car and the dingy aisles of bell market, kellie lost her brand-new stocking cap. after retracing her steps and getting on my knees to stare under the snow covered belly of the car to look for the cap, i was quite angry and ready to fire a snide solvo in her direction. but, mindful of the reciprocity that accompanies such incidents, i kept my comments to myself.

the beverly blot of the week

friday, december 10

7:43 p.m.--police received a report from a bartlett street resident that a 'dog outside was barking in the rain.'

reader/response

“we declare to the world that what has been declared to be ‘real,’ or ‘the way things are,’ or ‘common sense,’ is in fact no such thing. Instead, the church declares that the kingdom of God is most ‘real,’ that ‘the way things are’ is another name for rebellion, and that the wisdom of God revealed in a crucified Christ is the new common sense. The scandal of the Christ’s incarnation remains in the body of Christ, the church” (lee camp, mere discipleship, pg. 108.

i do not regret my rebellion, but i do regret the way it has been expressed. up to this point, the intention of my rebellion has been to sarcastically eschew ‘common sense,’ identify the danger of being consumed by unchecked consumerism and point out the inherent pride that is always intertwined with personal or corporate power.

but, in all honesty, my rebellion against consumerism has not led me towards a life of simplicity, i continue to find it difficult to exchange the common sense of the world for the disturbing truth of revelation and i have not countered the prideful presumption of power by living a life of death. thus, my rebellion has been a construct of words instead of a reflection of my actions. of this i am ashamed.

Lord God, i know that you (re)created me in order to rebel against the powers and principalities of this world. through the power of your grace and the guidance of your Holy Spirit, enable me to join the rebellion that our Son initiated by shouldering my cross. amen.

brushback pitch

the cardinals finally found a top of the rotation starter. cue the hallelujah chorus!

fortunately unlike the red sox (clement) and the mets (who single-handedly inflated the pitching market with those ridiculous benson and martinez deals) they didn't have to break the bank to do so. i admit that mulder ain't hudson and he definitely isn't rj, but he's nothing to sneeze at either. kudos walt. kudos.

the lynnfield blotter

when my co-worker and copywriter Christine Kimball read the beverly blotter post, she told me that lynnfield blotter was even better. so she took it upon herself to send me a few of the best entries from the last two weeks.

is the lynnfield blotter a cut above the beverly blotter? you be the judge!

November 29

12:52 p.m. A Lynnfield resident called police to report being a victim of a scam. The scam occurred in Nigeria.


December 4

5:24 a.m. Assisted resident with squirrel in house, Orchard Lane.

7:03 p.m. Report of a past assault on Salem Street. Police investigated and found that male and female parties are accusing each other of assault and batter after a dispute over property lines, “black magic,” and the placement and use of mirrors intended to deflect that magic.


December 11

6:28 p.m. A North Hill Drive resident reported leaving for New Hampshire with two candles burning inside the house. Police extinguished the candles.


December 12

2:59 p.m. A Salem Street resident complained that his ex-wife was performing witchcraft. Police found the complaint was unfounded.

happy haiku friday: christmas edition!

frosty the snowman

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer

may they burn in hell

on ragamuffins and sacraments

i believe that the grace of God holds us togheter. and i believe that the sacraments are the conduits of grace. as a young catholic schoolie, i was taught that there were seven sacraments, the names of which i learned by rote. during my lincoln years the number was trimmed down to two, one soaked your shorts and the other was merely a symbol.

as the years have passed, i've begun to see and receive sacraments everywhere. a consoling embrace, a pa pa's love and the eyes of a child are just a few of the sacraments that have held me together. i am thankful for the diversity of God's sacraments and pray for the eyes to see and receive more.

all of that to say, that the music of rich mullins is a sacrament that helps hold me together. i never met rich, never heard him play live and never listened to him until he died just up the road from lincoln christian. but i can honestly say that without his songs, i would be a holy mess. here are a few of the lyrics that have sustained me throughout the years. if you've been sustained by his work, i'd love to hear from you as well.

"here in your room where nobody can see, the voices are loud but seldom clear. underneath the confusion that's running so deep, there is a promise you must hear. the love that seems so far away is standing so very near." ~the verge of a miracle

"jacob she loved rachel and rachel she loved him, and leah was just there for dramatic effect. well it's right there in the Bible, so it must not be a sin, but is sure does seem like an awful dirty trick." ~jacob and 2 women

"surrender don't come natural to me. i'd rather fight you for something i don't really want, than take what you give and i need. and i've beat my head against so many walls, now i'm falling down, falling down on my knees. and the salvation army band is playing this hymn. and your grace rings out so deep, it makes my resistance seem so thin." ~hold me jesus

"if you make me laugh, i know i could make you like me. 'cause when i laugh i can be a lot of fun. but when we can't do that i know that it is frightening. what i don't know is why we can't hold on. can't hold on..." ~we are not as strong as we think we are

"if i could make it work in life, like it works on paper. if the love that i describe, could be anything but words. if i could Then I would wipe my eyes, I'd dry this ink, I'd trade my pen in on a pair of wings. And I would, I would fly If I could only make it work in life" ~if i could make it work

"when my body lies in the ruins of the lies that nearly ruined me. will you pick up the pieces that were pure and true and breathe your life into them, and set them free? when you blast this cosmos to kingdom come. when those jagged edge mountains we love are gone. when the skies are filled with the tears of a thousand falling suns as they crash into the sea. can i be with you? can i be with you?" ~be with you

"Somewhere
Beyond these reasons and feelings
Somewhere
Beyond the passion and fatigue
I know You're there
And that Your Spirit is leading me
Somewhere
Beyond all this ~somewhere

unsolicited opinions, spiritual reflections and your daily serving of sarcasm: my last running diary of the season

2:07 p.m.--after arriving, admittedly a little late, for my last shift in customer service, my first call started like this:

"thank you for calling CBD this is Jeff. how can i help you?"

customer: "HELLO? hello. hello-o..."

"this is CBD, how can we help?"

customer: "beeeep." i think her cheek crunched the #4 on her receiver.

"this is jeff, how can i help you?"

customer: "HELLO."

"this is CBD."

customer: "oh...hi...i was...uh...wondering.

"if...you...could...uh...check one of my...uh...orders."

"sure. what is your order number?"

customer: "let...me...see. it is...uh....."

at that moment, i was reminded of the wisdom of sir randal. "i could do without the customers in the video store," he said. "which ones?" dante queried. "all of them."

2:27 p.m.--on friday night i found myself huddled under the doorway of city hall, furtively smoking a bummed cigarette. as a cold mist began to blot out the street light and seep into my government-subsidized shelter i felt a wave of melancholy coming on. hold fast, i exhorted myself, but i felt certain that a night of moping, and a page littered with bad, anguished poetry was inevitable.

it was at that point, just then, that i realized what a moody, internal, narcissistic little bastard i can be. fifty feet away was a coffeehouse in which sat my beautiful pixie of a wife, a master of unintentional comedy who is also a member of our church and a dozen other people that i desire to more fully know and love. yet, there i was, smoking a cut-rate cigarette and licking my wounds. i couldn't help but laugh.

2:31 p.m.--i pick up the phone only to hear a lady who is way too focused on her family. because of her love for her "beautiful boys" she decided to let them flip the pages of the catalog to the items she was interested in and pick out a few of their own while we were speaking. this led to some priceless statements like: "oh, jeff, you should see their eyes. it's like they are opening christmas presents already!" when i asked her about which shipping method she wanted to use, she replied, "hold on. i need to ask my beautiful boys."

go ahead, lady. shoot me in the head.

3:27 p.m.--the lady who played mike myers' mom in so i married an axe murderer just called. her accent was even deeper than it was in the movie. guess she wasn't focused on simplifying her speech for the movie-going audience.

in all seriousness, it took me five minutes and twenty-nine seconds to correctly record this lady's address. talk about painstaking. if she wasn't so sweet, she probably would have left me with a throbbing melon.

3:41 p.m.--a customer just called to let us know that we shipped incorrect items to him on an order he placed in june. he said he did not call sooner because he was in a coma. no kidding.

the funny thing is, i believed him. i replaced the incorrect items and even stepped up the shipping so that he could enjoy his Bible studies before Christmas.

of course, five minutes after i got off the phone with him, another rep walked over. coma man was on the line again. now he wanted to order another book from us, but he wanted us to comp the shipping. in short, he was looking for a coma-induced discount. no dice, my friend. no dice.

4:01 p.m.--just received third straight call from a customer who is trying to add an item onto a previous order. dear friend, if you ever order from l.l. bean, cbd, ikea or any other catalog company, save the customer service slaves some sanity by GIVING YOUR COMPLETE ORDER THE FIRST TIME YOU CALL.

4:05 p.m.--while listening to anne lamott's traveling mercies on cassette, stumbled across this gem:

"Families are definitely the training ground for forgiveness. At some point you pardon you family for being stuck together in all this weirdness. And when you do that you can learn to pardon anyone. Even yourself, eventually."

i think that's a good word from all of us, as we head home to visit those whom we love the most deeply and with whom we tend to fight the most fiercely.

4:15 p.m.--i am currently sitting in someone else's cubicle in the customer service department. i've always found cubicles to be interesting little habitats. sometimes, the clutter in the cube can tell you a little bit about the person it enslaves.

assuming the latter assumption is true, here is what this cube tells me about its occupant. the glut of personal pictures suggests that she might be as obsessed as i am with self. she seems particularly predisposed towards pictures of herself in brightly colored, strapless prom dresses. that would lead one to guess that she fancies herself a princess. sure enough, taped to the back of her cubes are pictures of the idealized, annoying, platonic ideas that preceded lady di: sleeping beauty and snow white (which reminds me...is there any way to truly distinguish those two stories? they are prime examples of one of my most deeply held assumptions: that all disney movies are basically the same. but that's another post, if not a doctoral thesis). the only remarkable difference between the ideas and the form in this instance is that the cube occupant doesn't wear shoulder pads that measure three feet in diameter. in fact, since her dresses are strapless, she has no such pads at all. finally, the books in her cube suggest the struggle between virtue and vanity that struggle within us all, for right below a book entitled how to be a lady is a prodigious stack of us weekly and star magazines. should this young lady be shaped by fundamentalist ideas about femininity or us weekly articles about j lo? that, my friends, is the question.

the cube...can one conceive of a more intriguing habitat for humanity?

4:40 p.m.--20 minutes until emancipation.

4:41 p.m.--repeat sermon about completing your order here...

4:51 p.m.--"Now here is my secret: I tell it to you with an openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again....My secret is that I talk loud. I talk loud and then the other customer service reps leave me alone. I need God to help me control my volume, because I no longer seem to be capable of speaking softly; to help me with intonation, as my voice is often off pitch; to help me listen, as I seem beyond being able to listen to those I loathe."

5:04 p.m.--i'm out like elton.

memorandum from captain random

this weekend we attending the wedding of angela ebersole and joe mcmanus. i have worked beside angela at beverly bootstraps for the past two years and joe was a member of sinners and saints 1.0, so it was one of the few weddings that i was eager to attend (for the record: in order for me to attend a wedding, the couple must meet at least two of the following three standards: (a) the bride and/or groom is a close friend at the time of their wedding (b) the wedding is going to be held in new england (c) there will be an open bar at the reception. if at least two of these standards are not met, best of luck to ya, but i won't be attending). anyway, as expected, the wedding was a delight. the service was personal, the home-cooked reception dinner was savory and the other guests at our table were either close friends or intriguing unknowns (including dr. robert coleman of the master plan of evangelism).

that being said, every wedding has its peculiarities. the most peculiar element of this wedding was the presiding pastor's verbal tic. the pastor is a passionate, charismatic man whose ministry i deeply respect, praise Jesus, who has planted a thriving church in salem, amen. much to everyone's surprise, and to God's glory, his services, which have the look, sound and feel of a pentecostal revival, have really connected with the people of salem, you follow? from the moment he began to speak i was tempted to tally his verbal tics, do you hear me?, but kellie stayed my hand, praise Jesus. don't get me wrong, i am really thankful for this man and the ministry he leads, praise Jesus, but can't help chuckling about and reproducing his tics myself, amen. i hope that he realizes that imitation is the supreme form of flattery, you follow?, and hope that my humor does not offend, amen.

fear not...

little children, for the dark hours have passed. the moon hath faded and the day is here.

ruminating

last night we heard the gospel of great reversal

one day...
the lame will walk
the poor will be rich
and justice will unseat oppression

last night we heard the gospel of great reversal

sweet Jesus i want to believe
help me in my unbelief

"just because we serve you, doesn't mean we like you." yet another running diary

11:21 a.m.--we are experiencing a deluge of down home customers who are scrambling out to their pickup trucks to get their credit cards, dialing 1.800.CRISTI (we just throw in the AN in our adds to sound more sacrosanct) with flaming fingers, asking us moronic questions and wanting their packages delivered yesterday. so i don't know how interesting this is going to be.

11:30 a.m.--i just had a caller from two trailers, arkansas. her locale reminded me of one of my favorite jokes.

What's the most seductive line you can utter in Arkansas?

Sis...you still awake?

11:33 a.m.--off to lunch. mmm, trader joe's burritos, of you i never tire!

11:57 a.m.--three minutes left until my entry into hell. by what slight of hand can i keep you entertained?

ok...got it. in our catalogs, all products are proceeded by two letter catalog prefix. these prefix's help us to figure out which catalog you are using, so that we can fill your mailbox with similar product offers in about a week's time. with that background, i would like to suggest that the worst two prefix's ever are...drumroll...KY and FU. the first doesn't help me to think about "whatever is pure, holy, praiseworthy, etc." and the second prefix expresses my attitude towards customers much too clearly.

the most ridiculous question a customer has ever asked me. "you sound sooo sweet? would you like to date my cousin?" my response: "um, probably not. i'm incredibly picky and probably wouldn't like her."

12:15pm--i just completed the most annoying call of the season. the customer, who obviously had nothing better to do, asked me to perform the most generalized searches in the history of man. i have included a part of the transcript below.

customer: do you have any leather bibles under $20?
  gentry: i am sure that we do. is there a particular translation that you are interested in?
customer: somethin' that is readable. not the kjv.
  gentry: like the niv?
customer: yes. do you have a niv leather bible for under $20?
  gentry: i am sure that we do. let me search for you. while i'm waiting for the results of the search i would like to encourage you to search on christianbook.com. on our site you can search for any kind of bible you would be interested in and we have a special bargain center as well!
customer: i don't have time for that. what are you finding?
  gentry: we have an niv pocket bible in leather for $19.99.
customer: no, don't want no pocket bible.
  gentry: ok. unfortunately most leather bibles cost more than $20, but i'll continue to look.

*********call eclipses the five minute mark

  gentry: actually, we do have a niv collegiate bible for $12.99. these are designed for college students, so they are not available in traditional colors. for instance, we have orange, crimson red and purple.
customer: do you have black?
  gentry: no, unfortunately it only comes in college colors.
customer: that's all you have for under $20? for real?
  gentry: ma'am, most leather bibles are more expensive than $20.
customer: i guess if that's all you have, i'll take the first one.
  gentry: ok, the niv pocket bible is the one you're intersted in.
customer: no! i want the college bible. it's for a man. what colors do you have again?
  gentry: we have orange, crimson red and purple.
customer: i'll take purple.
customer: do you have any study bibles?
  gentry: yes, we have thousands. what kind of study bible did you have in mind?
customer: an niv one. for under $20...

*********call eclipses the ten minute mark

customer: so if i ordered those, when would i be charged?
  gentry: ma'am, you would be charged as soon as we could process your credit card and start packaging your order.
customer: can you hold the order till tomorrow?
  gentry: (in his head: quit using your freaking credit card up to the limit, lady!) no, unfortunately we cannot. orders are charged almost immediately.
customer: ok, then, ok. can i have an order number?
  gentry: ma'am, you can use the stock numbers that i provided you when you call to order tomorrow.
customer: you mean i have to call again to order?
  gentry: unfortunately, we cannot place an order without a form of payment. and without placing an order, i cannot provide you with an order number.
customer: i was just thinking that they could hold my order.
  gentry: unfortunately, ma'am, we cannot. our system was not designed to hold orders, but to get them out the door as soon as possible.

************call eclipses the fifteen minute mark.

customer: do y'all have any bookmarks?

12:49: a caller rings through and when i greet her she responds with obvious contempt. i can almost hear her thinking, "i can't believe i have to deal with people in order to place a friggin order!" i think about suggesting that she use the website for quicker service, but stop myself when i realize that they probably haven't run electricity to her mississippi town just yet. i ask her for her customer number and she rattles it off as quickly as possible. i ask for her credit card number, and she does the same thing, hoping that her speed will baffle me, proving, once and for all, what an incompentent, button-pushing monkey i really am.

but i type in the numbers as quick as she says them. "humph..." she replies. she then offers me her first stock number. it is a book simply entitled, Heaven. she is lucky that judgment belongs to the Lord, i muse. then my computer locks up, so i quickly put her on hold. as she listens to the first minute of a bad contemporary christian version of a christmas carol, i know that she burns. as the second minute of the carol begins, she realizes that she's been bested. the rest of the call proceeds without a glitch.

1:08 p.m.-1:48 p.m.--between call book reviews!

i am currently reading three books. i have provided capsule reviews below:

joe dimaggio: a hero's life by Richard Ben Cramer. in the introduction to the fourth chapter, cramer explained DiMag in the following way: "he had that quiet in the bottom of himself--like an absence more than anything they could name--that made him a zero, and a sure bet. they knew joe was going to take care of business because that's all joe did."

after reading that statement i was hooked. with such a solitude of heart, it is little wonder that people were drawn to joe. they weren't attracted by a nebulous characteristic such as mystique; rather, they were attracted to a man who knew himself and was able to act out of his center. i think we all want this solitude of heart and this ability to live out of the center. that's why we are all attracted to people like joe, jesus and the buddha.

i deeply desire such solitude of heart. unfortunately, the bottom of my heart isn't quiet. it is filled with loud, obnoxious, drunken monkeys.

girl meets God by lauren winner. i found a first edition copy of winner's book in the returns barrell yesterday morning. i cracked it open this morning and was immediately attracted to her prose. within three pages, she made me long for the spanish moss and unpretentious intellectualism of oxford, mississippi, thirst for a finger of maker's mark and want to recite an ode while standing before william faulkner's headstone. i doubt that the rest of the book will disappoint.

dark night of the soul by saint john of the cross. these are deep waters. too deep to speak of here.

1:52 p.m.--i am constantly amazed by the number of people who do not know their zip code. this baffles me almost as much as people's tendency to store their credit cards in their pickup trucks.

1:55 p.m.--i'm out like ellen!

the beverly blotter

on saturday night our karoke queen and condo-mate anita brought down the the beverly citizen. the citizen is a weekly paper that reads like it was written by twelve year olds. thus, it is a constant source of entertainment.

this week we found the police blotter particularly entertaining. thus, following in the tradition of my favorite doctor, i am providing my own top five.

Top Five Entries in the Beverly Blotter:

1. Monday, November 22. "2:36 a.m. Police received a report that a person was sitting in a vehicle for 30 minutes on Essex Street."

2. "8:30 p.m. Youths reported near a Brimbal Avenue fence."

3. Tuesday, November 23. "11:17 p.m. A Thompson Road resident reported that he thought someone was in his home."

4. Wednesday, November 24. "11:16 p.m. A juvenile was throwing furniture on Kernwood Avenue."

5. Thursday, November 25. "12:59 a.m. An unknown vehicle reportedly pulled into a driveway on Trask Street."

Honorable Mention:

Friday, November 26. "3:26 p.m. Police received a report that a man with a gun shot a rat on Park Street."

"8:43 p.m. A Littleton resident reported that she lost a black fanny pack."

an advent prayer

i want you more than a cigarette
      but can't toss this pack quite yet
i don't want to trade the physical
      for the ethereal

so come ye closer
      than the smoke that's in my lungs
calm my shaky fingers
      be the heat upon my tongue

i want to act justly, love mercy, walk in humility
      but abstractions just don't do it for me.

      please come closer.

monday morning inspiration

"man is born broken. he lives by mending. the grace of God is glue."

~Eugene O'Neill, as quoted by Anne Lamott in traveling mercies

happy haiku friday!

the child's eyes brighten

revealing innate wonder

his head hits the floor

dreaming of the day when we are all more optimistic than jaded

"But darling, I wish you well
On your way to the wishing well
Swinging off of those gates of hell
But I can tell how hard you're trying
Just have that secret hope
Sometimes all we do is cope
Somewhere on the steepest slope
There'll be an endless rope and nobody crying.
~Patty Griffin, Nobody Crying

"Well I wish that you could see me when I'm flying in my dreams
The way I laugh there way up high
The way I look when I fly
The way I live...
The way I fly..."
~Patty Griffin, Chief

"And you can't run away from the nagging dark. You carry it everywhere in your heart. It finishes everything that you start. You can't run away from the nagging dark.

How far can you see? Will you ever be free? Through the blackest night, aw you still hold on tight. Hope is your finest work. It's your finest work. Hope is your finest work of all."
~John Hiatt, The Nagging Dark

many thanks to patty and john for providing an unexpected serving of lectio devina. what are some of the sacred readings that drag you through dark days?

little black books

yesterday morning was a revelation. as alex and i winged our way over cape ann, our eyes focused upon the rhythmic surf and sharp, resolute shoreline of new england, i could not help but think of my father.

i was raised in a cradle of aviation. my father recovered airplanes in our two car garage, my brother and i treated the fuselages in the backyard like playground equipment and dad often strapped the my brother and i into one of the two small seats in our aeronica chief and took us buzzing about the oklahoma countryside.

a couple of summers ago, while digging around in my dad's closet for a long-lost first baseman's mitt, i found my dad's log book. on its small pages dad had recorded every hour he had flown and, occasionally, jotted a few notes about the flights. unsurprisingly, my brother and i were his passengers for a number of those flights. beside our names, in his carefully messy script, my dad had written things like "took the boys flying today and they loved it!" and "jeff took the stick today and did quite well." these simple notations pierced my heart. for some reason, reading the notes in my dad's log book made his love more tangible than ever. in that cluttered closet i realized that my father's heart was so full of love for his boys that it overflowed into every part of his life, including his little black log book.

in much the same way, i believe that God's love for us is scribbled, in his servant's carefully messy script, all over scripture. i just wish the pages of scripture pierced my heart like the pages of that logbook did.

a thanksgiving first

after our delicious dinner kellie and bonnie suggested that we watch a movie. the men in the house knew that this was a brazen ploy to distract our attention from halo 2, but we acquiesced anyway. after a bit of half-hearted deliberation, we decided to watch when harry met sally.

immediately following the infamous delicatessen scene, mikey, who is the king of non-sequiturs, looked directly at kellie and said, "kellie, have you ever faked an orgasm?"

happy haiku friday!

the fallow fields

are re-enchanted by spring

drink equal exchange

the wonders of pixie dust and the prince of peace

when i walked out the front door of cbd last tuesday i was delighted to see my friend elijah stick his head out of a waiting car's window and offer me one of the sweetest smiles known to man. "mr. gentry! mr. gentry!" he repeated excitedly as i stuck my head in the window and asked for a kiss. after i greeted his mother elijah looked at me with instigating eyes and said, "is it time for wildboys?" then he started clapping and jumping up and down in the front seat until he cracked his forehead on the front windshield. i busted up immediately. due to his love for hockey, which results in multiple "body checks" every five minutes, and his irregular gait, which bears a striking resemblance to the sauntering of captain jack sparrow, elijah is well accustomed to sustaining such a hit. thus, he quickly laughed as well.

weekend before last, kevin and amy clark made their first visit to new england. i met k & a when i was a senior and college and kevin was a first year seminarian. after nine months together in lincoln geography tried its damnedest to divide us, but has constantly failed to succeed. thanks in large part to non-revenue tickets on AA and amy's parents' limitless hospitality our friendship has continued to deepen throughout the years. anyway, when k & a told me they were going to visit, i told them that they best bring new pictures of mayzie james, their one and a half year old daughter. otherwise, i threatened, their tour of new england might be limited to t.f. green airport. fortunately, they did better than that. they brought a video shot especially for us! on the video we got to watch our suddenly mop headed, precocious, pseudo-niece mimic the sound of animals. most of the animals were of the standard variety, but she also dealt us a wildcard. on kevin's cue, mayzie ran around the living room, flitting in and out of camera range, while hissing like a little snake.

all of this to say that i love children. for this reason, among others, i was awestruck by finding neverland. the ability of j.m. barrie to not only to recognize, but also accentuate the wild-eyed wonder of a child, reminded me of Jesus' amazing revelation that "unless you become like little children you will not see the Kingdom of God." thanks to barrie, i once again realize that i need Christ to whisper a new word into my life that reminds me that existence is both more beautiful and terrible as well as more whimsical and unexpectedly orderly than i ever imagined. i need him to widen the narrow focus and task orientation that i have defined as "maturity" and reveal to me yet again that the world is indeed enchanted. when Christ chooses to whisper, i think his word might sound something like this:

"here is your life. you might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. here is the world. beautiful and terrible things will happen. don't be afraid. I am with you. nothing can ever separate us. it's for you I created the universe. I love you." ~buechner, the alphabet of grace

to sum up: finding neverland. yeah, i kind of liked that movie.

the requisite sappy, sentimental thanksgiving post

even in this season of drought i have a number of reasons to be thankful. currently, i am thankful for:

1. my wife. i wish i could count the number of times that i catch myself staring at kellie and asking myself why a woman of such penetrating intellect, subversive beauty and enduring, earthy faith would choose to join her life with mine. my love for her knows few bounds. you heard it right, few...i will never love the learning channel or queer eye for the straight guy and no amount of stickiness or filth will ever compel me to clean the ceramic tiles in the kitchen with a toothbrush.

2. my family. my grandfather is not only a man above reproach, he is my best friend. i am not the only one who thinks so highly of him. in twenty-seven years the only negative thing i have ever heard about him concerns his driving, which is, admittedly, hurtling towards the danger zone. my practical genius father and sacrificial servant mother provided me with an ozzie and harriet environment to grow up in (too bad they were saddled with an R-rated eddie haskell for a son), provided every educational opportunity that i could ever need and continue to be my best advocates. my brother is a bastard. but then again, so am i. he is one of the most creative and endearingly quirky people i have ever met. i could go on about my grandmother who is the most gentle, accepting person i have ever met and my cousins that i love dearly (yes, including chris and my cousin-once-removed brian). i also love my dog kate. who stood proudly beside me, between kellie and i and on the couch during our first wedding (we had two since i feared the first "didn't take"). tomorrow will be my first thanksgiving away from my aunt beth's wassail, my uncle's smoked turkey and (thankfully) a smorgasbord of dallas cowboy's football.

3. let go by the "frou frou's." this song is a sacrament that is reminding me of the value and the beauty of carrying around in my body the death of Jesus (2 cor. 4:10). thanks to you, "frou frous" i am being reminded that the way up is down and there is indeed "beauty in the breakdown."

4. my strong, multi-faceted community. i once told a close friend that i often felt like a loose cannon. i had plenty of firepower and quite a bit of kick, but my shots were as unpredictable as they were dangerous. fortunately, over the past several years i have been bolted down by my beloved sinners and saints, my longsuffering sister regina, the comic troupe known as the clarks, my rufus lusting sidekick mark, my unparalleled spiritual director, blogging buddies all around the country and, though their threads should have been stripped by now, my loving wife and family. i thank God that i am no longer a loose cannon. now, if i could only get my barrel rebored...

5. my job. it isn't challenging, requires healthy doses of hypocrisy and often makes me want to curse, but it also pays for my bills, enables me to work among friends, provides remarkable scheduling and includes a boss that is willing to put up with my shit.

of course i have a number of additional reasons to be thankful, but this will do for now.

brushback pitches: hot-stove edition

now that i've burdened you with my spiritual struggles, let us turn to a discussion of my second religion: baseball (insert sound clip from the team america anthem here). these are just a few thoughts that are ricocheting through my mind right now.

• shame on major league baseball for naming the washington team "the nationals." they had the option to name the team after the washington "grays" of the negro league, thereby honoring a cherished past of baseball history and building the legend of josh gibson, but they chose instead to ride the wave of nationalistic frenzy that currently characterizes usamerica. hey, at least their colors aren't red, white and blue. wait a second... shame on you mlb, shame on you!


• speaking of mlb...one of the only upsides of a second bush term is that he won't have the opportunity to seek the commissioner's seat. here's a guy who by most accounts wasn't allowed to fiddle with the day to day operations of the texas rangers. and he wants to be commissioner of our national pastime? right. i'll continue to do my best to quench my criticism of bush's presidency, but if he ever attains the commissioner's seat, the gloves are coming off.


• i am glad that fans are finally realizing that sammy sosa is a childish whiner and all around mal-content. if a star player has problems with dusty baker, the prototypical player's manager, you know something is seriously wrong. i hope that he either rots in chicago's six hole or is shipped to flushing this winter. the new york post is probably one of the only organizations that is advocating the mets acquisition of sosa. think of the fodder.
  
• speaking of whiny dominicans, if the sox end up falling for this transparent steinbrenner/pedro ploy and guarantee him three years at 40 million, they're nuts. they would be much better served by spending the same money on pavano and a three man like radke/milton/lieber. count me among those who would be thrilled to see pedro go to the yankees. then we could unabashedly root for him to blow his cuff. (sidenote: if pedro includes the services of his dominican midget in his contract negotiations, my opinion might change).


• espn reports that the cardinals are not sure that they will be able to land rj so they are going hard after eric milton. i find this news more than mildly disturbing. if they can't get rj they should offer calero/haren/ankiel for hudson. assuming, of course, that they can get huddy to sign a contract extension before coming over. if our "big pickup" this off-season is milton, we are going to be left with a #2 guy, three #3 starters and a warm body in the #5 hole. that rotations will win a lot of games, but won't take the series.


• scott boras is one of the worst things to ever happen to baseball.


• if someone can get alou to sign a 2 year/12 million kind of deal or even a 2/16 they are going to get one hell of a bargain. expect him to go to the giants, where he could provide adequate protection for #25.

i am an unbeliever

i believe that you sent your Son among us, that he was born of a virgin, crucified for purposes both religious and political, and rose victorious three days later. i also believe that His death was the perfect sacrifice for our sin and a powerful invitation to enter the Kingdom that is now and not yet.

but i don't believe that you are calling me to a cross. i don't "always carry around in my body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus might be revealed in my body" (ii cor. 4:10). so, instead of responding to your call and picking up the cross i pour my energy into trivial pursuits and set aside the cross in order to enjoy yet another hour of leisure.

i realize that it is meaningless to confess Christ with my tongue if i refuse to incarnate that confession. and i realize that a life of incarnation demands that i carry the cross.

Lord God, i want to believe in the call of Jesus. help me in my unbelief. through the agency of your Spirit, enable me to incarnate the confession i often repeat by choosing to pick up the cross. teach me how to carry the death of Jesus in my body so that he might be truly revealed in my life and in the life of my community. Jesus died so that others might live. please lead me down a similar path.

an unexpected harvest

i am barren. the field of my heart, which once produced a sustainable, if not bountiful, crop now lies completely fallow.

due to the dearth of production i am tempted to despair. i regularly find myself standing on the edge of the field where i smoke camel lights, occasionally piss on the soil and try to discern what went wrong. has the acidity of disobedience tainted my soil for good? has the salt water of sin, which courses through my heart and steadily drips from my tongue rendered the field useless? or is the field merely awaiting the sharp blade of another plowman who can furrow deeper and plant more fertile seed?

answers are allusive. so, as my eyes well up with tears, i strike another match and light another camel. i realize that on the solitary fringe of my heart there is little solace to be found. yet, i am neither completely famished nor devoid of hope. for, during this barren period, i am able to subsist on the fruit of a larger field, of which i am merely a tenant. fortunately, the oddly misshapen and bruised fruit of that field has not failed to provide the sustenance that i need.

thank God for the misshapen, and wholly unexpected, produce of the larger field. after years of living solely off the fruit of my field, i am finally realizing that i am dependant upon other resources to survive.

happy haiku friday!

confined in a cube

a monkey pushes buttons

then throws shit at rhys


note to the easily offended: i didn't actually say shit. i merely spelled it.

link-a-matic

last night, after reading the sports guy's links page more carefully, i realized that gary wayne rodgers committed suicide about a week ago. it is one thing to laugh at the living, but another to desecrate the memory of the dead. thus, this link has been removed.

for more quirky links, visit the sports guy page.

to go, or not to go. that is the question

last week kevin and amy clark, two of my favorite people, came out to visit. between conversations that fluctuated from the absurd (including their tale of naughty middle schoolers who have been nicknamed "the fondeleros") to the significant (including discussions of how our sociological and ecclesiological place influences our interpretation of the gospel as well as the particular method that my Dr. used to assess the state of my prostate) amy mentioned that she had recently attended her ten year high school reunion. i condescendingly asked her if she was joking and she assured me that she was not. apparently, she even geared up for this shindig by visiting that snotty little republic and sharpening her, already formidable, claws in preparation for engagements with long-time adversaries. i punctuated her story by teasing her about attending such a meaningless affair until kevin rose to her defense. apparently he is going to attend his reunion as well.

in an attempt to both empathize with their decisions and to develop an appropriate response to the reunion invitation that i will undoubtedly receive this spring, i have decided to weigh the pros and cons of attending the ten-year reunion of Bishop Kelley's class of 1995.

first, since i am ever the optimist, i will consider the pros:

1. attending the reunion would provide an opportunity to key the h2s, lexus suvs and bmw3 series that the trust fund babies received from their parents.

2. after locating another marginalized, jaded soul we could play a game of plastic surgery "i spy." i can picture the joy of this competition in my head..."i spy a rhinoplasty." "i spy a britney job." "i spy a bo-tox injection!"

3. the freshman baseball team from 1992 could gather together and tell inappropriate jokes about our pedophilia stained baseball skipper and baptist deacon, coach webber. my first joke, due to unexpected pangs of conscience, has been edited.

4. i could finally discover whether paul finally came all the way out of the closet and wrote the script for "angels in america" under an assumed name.

5. i could drink alcohol with my classmates without receiving an m.i.p. (minor in possession) and smoke within 50 feet of school grounds without being fined $100. however, using the lingering incense in the school chapel to cloak the meeting of the 420 club would probably still be prohibited.

now, and you knew they were coming, the cons:

1. most of my friends in high school weren't in my class. in fact, most of them lived in canada...you wouldn't know them.

2. i could avoid conversations about my vocation without being interrupted by comments like "you became a pastor?" "what is it like? some kind of cult?" to which my response would be that (1) God has a sense of humor and (2) the boston church of christ congregation i lead is not a cult. just kidding...God doesn't have a sense of humor.

3. i don't have a pink oxford shirt of pair of navy blue dockers in my wardrobe. furthermore, while i thought cowboy boots with slacks were the "bomb" in 1995, i wouldn't be caught dead "duding up" now.

4. my failure to make the varsity baseball team is up near the top of my list of regrets. i can live without conversations about how i drilled fritz with 3 out of 5 batting practice pitches or about the time i got tossed out of edison field for using one of my favorite words.

5. i cannot endure another night of Bishop Kelley girls killing me softly with the blight on humanity that is known as karaoke. even if alcohol is involved...

at this point, i'm thinking that the cons outweigh the pros. but only time will tell how i will respond to that eagerly awaited invitation.

"There are two kinds of people in this world: Those that enter a room and turn the television set on, and those that enter a room and turn the television set off." ~Raymond Shaw in the original Manchurian Candidate

unfortunately, i am one of the latter. baseball tonight and back-to-back-to-back episodes of law and order are my kryptonite.

listening with a lump in my throat

as i settled into my cube this morning i instinctively reached for my pile of scratched cds. recently i have been relying on audiobooks to help wisk me through the day, but after a bad experience with 'sense and sensibility' (i know it's considered a classic, but my disdain for 20th century chick-lit apparently extends well into the 19th) i quickly returned to the tunes.

anyway, as i shuffled through the cds in a vain attempt to locate ben folds' rockin' the suburbs (i have been singing gone in my head all weekend), i ran across indelible grace, a cd that i lifted from a friends wallet sometime ago. indelible grace is a beautiful collection of reframed hymns (same lyrics with a new americana sound) that was crafted by the numerous musicians at Christ Community Church in jesusland, tennessee.

after the third track, entitled "i need thee every hour," brought tears to my eyes, i realized that, on this day, indelible grace was a sacrament i needed to receive. uncle buechner has always encouraged me to be aware of the times that i have a lump in my throat or a tear in my eye, for those are probably times that God is working. since the third track on the album inspired both a lump and the aforementioned tears, i listened to it again and again.

i thought you might find the lyrics of this old baptist hymn beneficial. then again, you might not.

i need thee every hour

I need Thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.

Refrain:
I need Thee, O I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
O bless me now, my Saviour,
I come to Thee.

I need Thee every hour,
Stay Thou near by;
Temptations lose their power
When Thou art nigh.

I need Thee every hour,
In joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.

I need Thee every hour;
Teach me Thy will;
And Thy rich promises
In me fulfill.

I need Thee every hour,
Most Holy One;
O make me Thine indeed,
Thou blessed Son!
~Annie Sherwood Hawks, 1835-1918

may God grant us the courage to repent of our independent streaks so that we can grow into a deeper dependence upon Him and a deeper interdependence with one another.

well slap my ass and call me sally

mrs. howland always said that we deserved it. between lectures on the phallic symbolism in candide and chastizing us for improper use of the thesaurus, she reasoned that if she had to settle in the stirrup chair at least once a year, then men should have to deal with the magic fingers as well.

we always laughed at her. she was always talking to us about such things, which perched on the edge of sexuality without actually taking the leap, and we loved her for it. she was nearing forty and had a five year old son as well as a bespectacled, c.p.a. husband, but to us she was lady godiva. we openly proposed that she leave her husband and shack up with us. she laughed at us before taunting us with yet another explication of the sexual tension in ibsen.

she wasn't kidding about the pain of the magic fingers though. we should have seen the lust for revenge in her eyes. today the doctor had me drop my shorts, lay on the examination table, pull my knees up to my chest and put a quarter in the magic fingers machine. the result wasn't pretty.

damn you mrs. howland! after all that talk all you put out was a cold dish of revenge.

"sir, it's mega-maid. she's gone from suck to blow!"

insert rant about your meaningless job here.

draw a parallel between your professional life and that of Joe (who eventually mustered the courage to take on the volcano).

finally, speak melodramatically about the way that your outdated, piece of shit terminal is sucking your will to live.

once you have completed template, hit "publish" four or five times (unsurprisingly, the damn server isn't working again).

and there you have it. your mid-week, vocational lament is complete.

opening a vein

i decided not to preach last weekend. the first sunday of every month you can find me at hill memorial baptist in allston, massachusetts. at hill memorial i preach a twenty-five minute sermon, preside over communion, drink a couple cups of colon-cleansing coffee, listen empathetically to a couple of stories and collect a $100 check (which is subsequently applied to my comcast bill). the congregation is filled with lonely middle aged and elderly women who seem to enjoy my company and have found a way to endure my idiosyncratic preaching. as far as supply preaching goes, hill memorial is easy pickin'.

i usually look forward to my two hours at hill memorial, but last week, i avoided its approach like the plague. after failing to frame a sermon out of wood that was long since hewn, i put out an anxious s.o.s. to the other prospective preachers at cbd. i carefully sculpted my e-mail to make the preaching slot sound like a wonderful opportunity. but, as one of my friends realized after lightly scratching my surface, i was absolutely desperate for relief.

being vulnerable in the pulpit is unquestionably valuable. but, as my old prof would be quick to remind me, bleeding all over the pulpit is another thing entirely. sunday would have been an exercise in the latter. right now, my heart is a cracked desert, my mind looks and sounds like a snowy television screen and my eyes are threatening to reach flood stage.

why am i telling you all this? i am asking myself the same question. i guess the most basic reason is to remind us both that even depression is a sacrament that we need to receive. as saint john of the cross, henri nouwen and others would remind us, depression is not a detour from the spiritual life, but a road that we must all endure. so, by God's grace, i pray that we begin to view depression not as an opportunity to retreat into the fetal position, but as an opportunity to deepen our faith. furthermore, i hope that the cliche that "the darkest hour is always before dawn" is indeed true. finally, instead of falling into the self-destruction of sin during these times or relying on our silly, external crutches (such as my cigarettes), i hope that these dark times lead us into a deeper dependence upon our Savior, who in the midst of the greatest depression found the strength to submit to God's will and a more tangible interdependence upon one another. friends, this is a road that we all walk. but there is no reason to walk it alone.