description of the day: savage nation by michael savage

While foreign terrorists and freedom hating countries are working to destroy American from without, liberal politicians, with their wholehearted faith in pluralism and their insipid "political correctness," are threatening to destroy her from within. Fortunately, in these dire times, there are a few faithful men who are willing to take a stand. In Savage Nation you will learn how Michael Savage is subverting the liberal media by boldly proclaiming the good news of patriotism, family and traditional American values. This son of immigrants loves his freedom and is willing to launch "savage" attacks on any country, person or ideology that threatens it. This thought provoking, patriotic book is now available for such a low price that you can afford to buy a copy for yourself, your friends and anyone else who needs to be confronted with the truth!

“where do i begin? where do i venture in?”

a couple of days ago i mentioned that there are a few artists, such as frederick buechner, who I cannot critique and (generally) consider above reproach. these men have found the courage to open a vein, and the infusion of their blood has blessed me with life. for the record, you can add bill mallonee to that list.

on monday afternoon, after a morning of swimming, and damn near drowning, in details, the good doctor and i sped our way towards the hawthorne hotel. after a few moments of wandering around the lobby i found bill, flannel clad and sporting a dingy pair of shit-kickers, at the corner of the bar. although i found him first, i was hesitant to introduce myself. so i went and found the doc, who was just about to go look for him in the parking lot, and made him do the honors. twenty hours later, when bill followed us out of the parking lot, i wondered why i was hesitant to introduce myself. though admittedly introverted, i’m not a particularly shy person. i’ve conversed quite easily with politicians, celebrity pastors and hall of famers in the past. so why was i so hesitant to talk to this little five foot eight fella who was chatting amicably with others at the bar? perhaps a few snapshots of my experience will help answer the question.

within five minutes of meeting bill, we shot past the conversational morass of movies and music and headed straight for the heart. he spoke passionately about his love for his family as well as a pressing conflict back home and i let him peek into a couple of pieces of my internal baggage as well. of course i had already seen bill bleed on album after album, but i was shocked by how open and vulnerable he was in person. bill is not only a confessional songwriter, he is a confessional person who truly believes that “what is most personal, is most universal” and is willing to let other members of the body of Christ bind his wounds. a good friend has told me time and again that honesty is my greatest gift and my greatest weakness. perhaps he’s right. but if honesty is one of my greatest gifts, than i am one greedy bastard, for instead of entrusting my wife, my community and even strangers in hotel bars to hear my honest truth and bind my wounds, i quickly scrawl the truth on an internal memo that is filed in subconscious folder 13. although i will probably never find the strength to sew my heart onto my sleeve, i need to trust those i love to listen to and bind my wounds. i also need listen to and bind the wounds of others. paradoxically, i think that it is only after we take the time to listen to and bind the wounds of others that we find personal healing.

after the show we headed over to the yuppie-ish tavern on the green to have a few drinks and spin a few stories. after everyone migrated from the bar to our table bill and i started to talk about our interests. as mentioned before, buechner rends my heart like no other. as it turns out, the same is true of bill. bill also mentioned that he is in the process of becoming a third order franciscan. this intrigued me since i have long been intrigued by francis and have considered joining the order of ecumenical franciscans (the only order that would accept me) as well. from there our conversation branched out into other authors such as henri nouwen and thomas merton. after bill spoke glowingly of merton i confessed that while i traversed the seven story mountain to the top and loved conjectures of a guilty bystander i often find merton’s journals and other works too dense. instead of providing a hermeneutic for merton or suggesting less complicated titles that a bloke like me could understand, bill admitted that he found merton’s writings on saint john of the cross absolutely impenetrable. after spending so many years at bible college and seminary, where students and, at times, professors, speak passionately about what they have yet to comprehend, argue abstractions that they have yet to particularize and carefully hide any shred of their ignorance, i found such honesty refreshing. i realized that bill not only stretched my understanding, he also was more than willing to identify with and share my ignorance. it was a great comfort to connect with someone who is willing to tolerate and even identify my ignorance. i think it is important to connect with others not only on the basis of what is known, but what is unknown. Lord grant me the humility i needed to tolerate and identify with the ignorance of others. more importantly, give me the courage to bring my ignorance into the light of day.

finally, bill's willingness to face his own darkness, which in the end is the darkness we all share, and speak hope into despair, is beautiful and a bit overwhelming. somewhere in the new testament paul talks about carrying the death of Christ around in his body everywhere he goes. i think bill has chosen the same road. he has allowed the truth of Christ's gospel to penetrate his darkness, is being transformed by God's beautiful truth and is inviting others to join him on the journey. through his music and ministry bill is pleading with us to "go where you will under the sign of the cross." though he cannot walk our personal via delorosa for us, the intent of his music and ministry is to give us strength for the journey.

in the end, i was hesitant to introduce myself to bill because something within me identified him as a holy man. encounters with holy men and women are always a bit unpredictable and are bound to point you towards change. and so it was.

listening to life and letting you in on a few secrets

just a few moments ago, while reading andy crouch's unexpectedly engaging article about jerry b. jenkins, the christian writer's guild and the calvin festival of faith and writing, a lump arose in my throat and tears filled my eyes. in moments like these, uncle buechner often intones, you are very near to either the truth or something like it. thus, in honor of my physical reaction to this piece of non-fiction, i would like to enter the booth and offer confession. please take a moment to listen.

i confess:

that there are a few authors i cannot critique. indeed, i hold the life and work of these authors so close to my heart that they have gradually become gatekeepers. senior among these are henri nouwen and frederick buechner. i know it would be more pious to give Luke, Paul or the preacher of Ecclesiastes pride of place, but i might as well be honest. years ago, when someone critiqued nouwen's exegetical approach in professor windham's senior seminar class, i almost broke into tears. nouwen was the only one who dared to speak into my loneliness. he was also the pastor who taught me that upon the narrow road, the way up is down. finally, uncle henri lead me to L'arche, where, for a moment, my life became a fusion of faith and action. L'Arche was the context wherein i was able to be the Christ-follower i had always wanted to be, and want to be still. Buechner, well, he rends me in ways i cannot describe. in fact, crouch's mere description of how buechner came "onstage looking like a bemused hound dog" is what brought me to this place. over the past three years i have not had a more trusted guide than uncle freddy. well, that's not exactly true. there is another. but some cards are meant to be played close to the chest.

on friday i have an interview with the good folks at the beverly bootstraps food pantry. i know, i know, the name sucks, but they are the most influential social service organization in beverly. i have been volunteering with 'straps for the past two and a half years and have recently been working part-time with them in hopes that that they will be misguided enough to hire me. i am well aware, as my wife has often reminded me, that not everyone has the opportunity to line up their occupation with their vocation. but when that opportunity arises, i think you have to take the chance.

speaking of my vocation, i once expected more clarity in that area. when they taught us in leadership class that we could boil down our life mission to a short sentence or simple paragraph, i took them at their word. but i do so no longer. i am beginning to realize that my vocation is not only more complex than i originally imagined, it is also evolving as i move from age to age. if someone unexpectedly violated my personal space (read: my cube. yes, rhys, i am fulfilling your uncanny foreshadowing) and inquired about my vocation, this is how i might respond (in a stream of consciousness style). "i feel called to: love God and listen carefully to what he says; incarnate Christ's compassion among the poor; help Christ's body grow up into its head; sacrificially love my wife; share my story through writing; educate the young; be a trusted companion of the old; follow my Pa Pa's lead; seek out wisdom and invest it wisely; watch the cardinals win their tenth world series; learn how to listen to and relate with those i love more than others, and those i love less; let my story unfold within the boundaries of beverly; run a marathon; proclaim the promise of reconciliation; read a library full of books; and die well." i think that's a good place to start.

that when i'm in a public place, and see someone i know before they see me, i will most likely leave before stopping to say hello or calling attention to my presence.

that you can "take the boy out of the country, but can't take the country out of the boy." a couple of times a week, i can still hear oklahoma in my voice.

that i still kind of miss monological, expository, stand behind the pulpit and pound-on-the-wood-for-emphasis preaching.

that i will always love katy more than dizzy (especially since the latter just interrupted me by pissing on the floor). i do love the latter dog, but have never felt compelled to love all friends, family members and animals equally.

that the farther removed i am from my time at soybean bible college, the more i appreciate it.

that i haven't read a serious theological book in over a year and am completely unrepentant.

that i was once a rabid republican.

that i once had a confederate flag bumper sticker on my car.

that's enough for now. may you experience Christ's peace, and receive a good dose of r & r this weekend.

happy haiku friday!

beautiful and lythe

the snake glides through the short grass

coming to kill you

somehow

last night a group of rain-soaked pilgrims gathered. with hushed tones and downcast eyes we discussed malignant sex and consequences intended and not. with brutal honesty we confessed that both as a band and as individuals we are fucked up. death has danced before our hastily averted eyes. intonations of malice have filled whispers that we chose not to hear. we have sinned by what we have said and, more often, by what we have left unsaid. everything about the gathering bespoke desperation.

then, unexpectedly, the faint scent of the gospel drifted into our midst, minor keys of hope began to be played and rumors of healing were whispered. it was only then that we began to realize that in this context of desperation, wherein sin seems so vivacious, seductive and liberating, we need to stake our lives upon identifying this faint scent, moving in rhythm to these minor keys and, somehow, believing the rumors to be true.

memorandum from captain random

concerning bill

"she told her friends i'd come to her on some noble steed, ah but it wasn't anything like that. maybe empty handed and full of need, but at least i'm good for a laugh." ~bill mallonee, sweetness and light

if you read this blog, or if i comment on yours, you know that i have a deep appreciation for people who are willing to "open a vein" or share their lifeblood with others. bill's willingness to open a vein has forced me to reckon with the falleness of my being and listen to the God who calls me his beloved. i have little doubt that his music will provoke you as well. if you live in the area, please take the time to come listen to this musical provocateur.

bill mallonee will be playing "the cave" (located in the museum place mall) on february 21 in salem, massachusetts. the show starts at 6:30 pm and the cover is only 3 bucks.

As of now two opening acts are scheduled for 6:30pm Asher Melodic and Elijah Wyman. Bill will begin at 8pm.

A map and driving directions are included below. Hope to see you there!

For Driving Directions to the Museum Place Mall (where "The Cave" is located) click Here

if you have questions about the show, feel free to comment or shoot me an email at jeffkelliegentry@yahoo.com.

culled from the wreckage of christianitytoday.com
lately i've been working on a project that has required me to spend an inordinate amount of time researching the archives of christianitytoday.com. although i've run across a lot of schlock about christians having sex in the kitchen and have seen far too many pieces that are little more than thinly veiled propaganda for the republican party, once in a while i have run across something worth reading. this classic interview with henri nouwen and richard foster is definitely worth a read.

lenten resources
just in case you were confused, the people that were wearing ashes on their forhead last wednesday weren't trying to make a fashion statement, but were celebrating the beginning of lent. lent is not only a season in which christians not only forego coffee, alcohol and watermelon, it is also a season in which we commit ourselves to diligently reading, reflecting and meditating upon God's Word. if you find the scriptures difficult to read or are a visual learner, you might find the BrickTestament to be a helpful resource. furthermore, if, due to inordinate amounts of alcohol or midnight movies, you find it difficult to attend the church of your choice, feel free to worship online at the Abston Church of Christ.

in case you were wondering, with the final post I do not intend to be either snide or sacrilegious. rather, the simple intent is to compel laughter.

not quite what saint valentine had in mind

"i'm a dog and you're a cat," she said. what she said was true, on so many levels.

it was the fall of 2000. i had just moved to massachusetts and was, admittedly, on the rebound. over the past two months i had fallen in love with the L'Arche Daybreak Community in Toronto. at L'Arche i learned the spirituality of cleaning toilets, the beauty of clothing the body of Christ and the overwhelming importance of being an incarnation of Christ. while my time at Soybean Bible taught me about my faith, it was my time at L'Arche that empowered me to embody such faith. spending my free time eating borscht and lounging at the beach with a beautiful ukranian woman wasn't half-bad either.

about a month after i arrived in massachusetts, while i was readjusting to the abstractions of seminary and realizing that long-distance relationships with foreign women weren't all that plausible, i met another girl. on the surface, she intrigued me. her father was an english professor at a well-known college, she was an aspiring children's author and she had found a beautiful way to integrate the Jewish faith of her youth with the confessing life that she had embraced as a young adult. as we talked about books, listened to jazz and savored micro-brews at seaside pubs she began to grow on me. in fact, i enjoyed spending time with her so much that i thought it would be interesting to see how she interacted with my family. so, against the advice of a close friend and the limitations of my checking account, i bought her a ticket to tulsa so she could join us for thanksgiving.

by late october i was beginning to suspect that these plans were a mistake, but did not know how to disinvite her. since breaking off the relationship after the trip seemed to be the path of least resistance, it was the one that i chose. so when thanksgiving arrived, we boarded a plane for tulsa, i subtly flirted with the boston university student sitting behind us the whole way there and then cringed when we encountered my family at the arrivals gate. as we made our way home, my prayer was that the weekend would at least be bearable. as it turned out, it was far from.

the first day we were in tulsa, she sat on my father's lap. now let it be said that my father is not a shy man, he is the type that wears a flashing red rudolph nose into candle-light christmas eve services, moreover, as a long-time elementary school santa claus, he is not unfamiliar with strange people sitting on his lap. however, when a strange yankee that he just met hopped on his lap and called him "daddy jim" you should have seen him squirm. that was strike one.

the second day, while we half-heartedly watched the macy's parade and prepared for the noon meal, she tried to win over the other woman in my life, my dog Katy, by French kissing her. needless to say, that was a shiver-inducing strike two.

then, on the third day, at my great aunt and uncle's fiftieth anniversary party no-less, she had not one, nor two but three glasses of champagne. now i have been known to have a drink or two myself, so i had no problem with the drinks. however, after she sat down on my eighteen year old cousin's lap and tried to answer his unease by saying, "don't worry, jealous is not a jeff kind of guy," we had to ban her from the bar from the rest of the evening. steeeeriiiiike three. she was out. i knew it, my family knew it, hell, even kate, the unwitting object of same-sex attraction, knew it. the night before we left, while she was sleeping in the next room, my dad looked at me and said, "the girl?" and i responded immediately. "oh yeah, she's yesterday's news."

to get back to boston we had to connect through o'hare. since we had a little time to kill before our flight, we stopped at the starbucks that is nestled between the k and j terminals and i overpaid for a couple of cups of coffee. as we were sitting around a little two-top and looking out the window at a couple of large men who were fueling a 737 and doing their best to damage passenger's luggage, i had a stunning realization: airports are a perfect metaphor for transition. this, coupled with the fact that this cat did not want to be leashed to that dog when my feet touched massachusetts soil, led me break it off right there at the starbucks between gates k and j.

as i look back on that relationship i am ashamed that i dated her and abhor the fact that my family and friends incessantly tease me about her to this day. however, i can attest that even this relationship bore good fruit, for it left me with one hell of a story to tell.

happy valentine's day!

concerning the integrity of Christian retail

Go Daddy.com chief: From Bibles to Breasts

props to ted olsen of christianitytoday.com for pointing this one out.

lyrically speaking

as rob taught us, "the making of a good compilation tape post is a very subtle art." Unfortunately, subtlety is not my spiritual gift.

"I got things in this suitcase, I'm carryin'.
I got things, some of them you can see.
Yeah and the others, let's pretend they're of no consequence.
Yeah i've always had this black cloud o'er me."
~Bill Mallonee, Black Cloud O'er Me

"All these lies are only wishes. I know that I would die if I could come back new." ~Wilco, Ashes of American Flags

"In a coffee shop in a city
Which is every coffee shop in every city
On a day which is every day
I picked up a magazine
Which is every magazine
Read a story, and then forgot it right away"
~Ani DiFranco, Little Plastic Castle

"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 Cryin'

happy haiku friday!

underneath the flag

the dog squats and takes a shit

divided it falls

8:21 thursday morning

on a thursday that feels like a friday he settles into his cube and recalls the scent of death.

hours before he sat weeping as divine mystery, cloaked in word and ritual, enveloped him.

the word provoked repentance and promised death.

the ritual imposed a sign of death and dispensed a taste of salvation.

longing for the sacrament received, he ignores the sacrament set before him.

memorandum from captain random:

oooh! navy seals! earlier today our middle-aged courier walked right by rhys' today and brought a fed-x package to me. as i signed for the package, i cautioned myself not to get too excited since the book would probably be another copy of broken on the back pew by sandi patty or the christian spirituality of the smurfs. thus, you can imagine my surprise when i found a pre-publication copy of brian mclaren's the last word and the word after that inside. i guess even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.

wondering… what denomination dizzy will affiliate with. on two of our three daily walks we play a little game that i like to call shit on the church sidewalk. the point of the game is to determine which denomination dizzy will affiliate with. at this point we are well into our third week of competition and we have determined that dizzy is not a unitarian, since she shits in front of their church frequently, nor is she a catholic, since she loves to shit in front of saint mary star of the sea's elementary school (much to the delight of the children). thus, she has reduced her options to the following denominations: american baptist, presbyterian church u.s.a. or the conservative congregational conference. i'm betting on the baptists and am terribly excited to see her decide which parlor in heaven she will frequent.

listening… to patty griffin and ani difranco, whom have recently partnered with frances mcdormand to form the trinity of famous women to whom I am attracted. weird, huh?

there are always sirens

she invited me to join her at "the good life." needless to say, her invitation was attractive.

at the time i was drowning in the sea of abstraction and she offered the beautiful solace of particulars. while i spent my solitary days parsing greek, she spread her impressions across a canvas. by night i punched buttons and received lonely visions from God while she slung drinks and charmed sailors out of their change. she was the bathing beauty for whom a king abdicated responsibility. and she was singing me to shipwreck.

so when she offered me "the good life" i wanted to accept. but, after inquiring about the destination and plotting the course, had my mate secure me to the mast. though "the good life" promised respite from the sea of abstraction, i suspected that it would be my death.

after the night of our scheduled rendezvous passed, i spent the next day in the lower galley. instead of reveling in "the good life" of grog and good friends, i found myself sweeping up rat shit in the company of strangers. i cursed myself under my breath, knowing full well that the previous night i had sailed past solace only to find myself in this sickening circumstance. i suspected that this work in the hold would make me sick for weeks. as it turned out, i wasn't far from wrong.

when my arms tired of bailing and the stench of feces made it damn near impossible to breathe, i retreated to the deck, where i could get a draught of fresh air and perhaps roll a smoke. after i sat on the deck and rolled my cigarette, i glanced across the inlet...and couldn't believe my eyes. there, a mere 5 fathoms away, was "the good life." though her docks were closed and lights dim, she had not lost her allure. she promised a life lubricated by fine ale, focused on an exotic woman and mercifully free from abstraction. yet, in that moment, i realized that my life was not waiting across the inlet, but down in the galley. so it was to the galley that i returned.

though the work down here is hard and the galley still smells like shit, the company of strangers have become mates and, though at times i find it hard to believe, life in the galley is good.

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?