overheard

“i use these words pretty loosely...
there's so much more to life than words” ~OTR, latter days

“tell mr. man with impossible plans to just leave me alone
in the place where i make no mistakes
in the place where i have what it takes” ~elliott smith, waltz #2

"there are two kinds of people:
sinners who think they are saints
and saints who know they are sinners" ~pascal, pensees

a long overdue confession

dear readers, i must make a confession. i am a calculating, undercover agent of the customer (secret) service. to my co-workers i am simply a comrade in arms, a simple customer service representative who longs to fulfill lifeway's mission of salvation by softcover. however, to my controller, i am a confidant and source of information, a Christ-centered, corporate killer who can scarcely conceal his sinister ambition.

although evidence of my true identity abounds, the lemmings that languish in the cubicles next to me remain quite clueless. thus, they do not know when they are chastised by the controller for excessive chattiness, that i was her primary source of information. further, they are unaware that the reason i am unexpectedly released from monotonous projects is so that i can engage in phone center surveillance and counter-surveillance. finally, when apparently composing salvific spam, my "comrades" do not know that i am encoding messages (often utilizing keywords like pearl, penetrate and purpose) that will reveal their blatant inefficiencies and illegal access of company facilities to my controller.

i am a cube dweller with connections. i am the customer (secret) service. do not fuck with me.

you can't force comedy

somewhere past lost creek, but a bit short of nutter fort, a couple of friends traversed I-79. their caffeine fueled, kerouac infused journey felt less like a relocation than an epic, for somehow, in the midst of this dissonance, dreams that had died bled onto sheets of new desire. as a result, neither new birth nor death seemed remote.

as they passed nutter fort two roads diverged, two pills were offered, two doors stood open. i could clarify the options and speak of conclusions foregone and forgotten, but wonder whether it would matter. the roads diverged and the stories unraveled, producing some episodes that were manic and others that were morose. so the story went and so it goes.

my only hope, indeed my half-hearted prayer, is that the stories unravel to the beat of burroughs and the storyteller is indeed sympathetic.

somewhere between memory and mirage, half-submerged in the stream-of-consciousness

propelled by the current and the contents of our cans we moved forward, but made little progress. for the first half of the trip i had a secure place in the center of the canoe. chris manned the bow, steve manned the keel, i manned the cooler. the early summer heat and our indifferent attitude towards lunch made the day seem more like a mirage than a concrete experience. looking back i remember images, emotions and snippets of conversation, but i have little feel for where the real story ends and personal myth begins. yet, as muddled as it may be, i am compelled to tell the story.

so, as i said, we were moving forward, but making little progress. our stated purpose was not progress but diversion. and diversion we found a plenty. every quarter mile or so we scratched the hull on another makeshift island and crashed a party. though we knew each other as outcasts, we chose not to let the strangers in on such secrets. so when they invited us to share our beer, smoke their weed, sample the texture and taste of their bodies, we did so. some of us more than others. if memory serves, i was one of the former. i think it was for that reason that i lost my privileged place in the boat and was left alone with a life jacket, dependent upon the current to make my way. i was so thankful that my six was buoyant.

at some point near the end of our excursion our case of key vanished. fortunately a couple of beautiful bodies floated by and graciously endowed us with additional supplies. flush with our good fortune we set our sights on the cliffs. once we landed steve and i scrambled up the side with sufficient supplies. our stated plan was to empty our hands before plunging into the waters below. while steve shotgunned i sought an angle that would enable me to douche our dear friend in the canoe below.

somewhere between a piss and my second can, i heard something pull up behind us. expecting more good fortune, of which this day seemed to be full, i turned my head expectantly...and was immediately disappointed. immediately deducing our plan the ranger informed us of impending danger. he then began with the questions. when he asked if i was of age i answered the affirmative. when he asked for evidence i took a draught of courage, shook my head and laughed. the officer asked, indeed he assumed, that i had seen such circumstances before. when i validated his assumption he had to question, "why don't you stop drinking?" i shrugged my shoulders indifferently and countered "why don't they change the law?" he laughed heartily and handed over the ticket almost remorsefully, promising that if i paid the fine the punishment would not have to match the crime.

it was in that moment, between my encounter with the half-hearted ranger and the adrenaline deficient plunge, that something within me clicked. a transition took place and i knew i would never be the same.

so i burned my bridges, abandoned those i had called friends and eventually repented while shanking shots at the driving range. i honestly think that i chose to follow Jesus not so much because of conviction or belief, but simply because the road was different. i figured that the narrow road could not be more meaningless than the broad, so i set out upon it.

that was almost nine years ago. since that time, i've moved forward, but made little progress. my eyes are still open to diversion and that anti-authoritarian son of a bitch that told off the trooper still emerges from time to time. nevertheless i am so thankful that something within me clicked. for as meaningless and random as the journey sometime seems, i think it is more substantial than the one that preceded it. every once in a while, the present moment definitely excluded, life seems less like a mirage and more like a concrete experience. for this i am thankful.

i have a sneaking suspicion that...

somewhere along the road i sacrificed excellence on the altar of mediocrity

there is such a thing as godly ambition, but cooperation still trumps competition

there are some wounds that do not heal

npr is going to drive me fund-drive crazy with non-stop reporting on john roberts. the morning nyt email featured a quote from robert's eighth grade teacher. i only wish i was kidding

bush will spin the rove affair more effectively than clinton spun the blow job

i am being sustained not only by Christ, but by His body

i am going to work at lifeway for longer than i initially intended. so i might as well make the best of it

the pre-publication galley copy of doug pagitt's preaching re-imagined is going to arrive today

that the (very) few of you that are interested in preaching are going to be treated to an interview and short review that will be posted on this site

it is time to open the indulgence box and go to work

memorandum from captain random

here are a few ideas, opinions and impressions that have been ricocheting through my small skull. although i would like to shoot a single, well aimed bullet, today i must rely on the buckshot approach.

when i entered my cube this morning a book was sitting next to my keyboard. the title was conquering insecurity. is some passive aggressive little shit trying to tell me something?

recently devoured: nick hornby's a long way down and j.k. rowling's harry potter and the half-blood prince. one of my goals for this site is to provide 50-100 reviews for every word i read. unfortunately, i don't have time to provide those right now, so i'll have to satisfy for a couple of quick hits. first, i read hornby because he has a deep, abiding interest in the humanity of his characters and he describes the movement from independence to interdependence better than any fiction writer i have read. i am happy to say that in this new novel he does not disappoint. moreover, i read rowling because i enjoy her masterful characterizations, her ability to provoke a sense of wonder and her unexpected plot twists. her latest effort is an excellent illustration of her skill. as a side note, i really enjoyed the conversation i had with art about the new novel. in the midst of our conversation he revealed his rather impressive interpretive skill. thanks brutha! now...the rest of you need to finish the novel so that we can discuss it (via email of course...we wouldn't want to ruin the reading of others).

wendy williams from newton presbyterian called me on monday to connect. wendy is deeply intrigued by the emerging church conversation and is interested in entering into our ongoing conversation. welcome to the conversation wendy! i hope that you feel at home in our little virtual community and will look forward to your thoughts/reflections/opinions. a side note here as well...i have been truly blessed by those i have connected with (including jamie, erik, becky, leanne, wendy, etc.) on account of this blog. i never knew that a medium such as this could be so generative.

one of the things i like best about serving with sinners and saints is that it is an exercise not only in leading, but in being led. currently inquiring minds such as dr. james, craig and fletch are leading me towards a deeper immersion in the discipline of theological discourse. i am glad that my theological inquiry is being compelled by the ongoing development of God's community instead of the demands of academia. this renewed interest has encouraged me to delve into stanley grenz's theology of the community of God, which i hope will ground me in Trinitarian theology and (if warranted) help me move beyond a foundationalist approach and mark noll's the rise of evangelicalism, which i hope will help me understand the way that leaders like edwards and wesley pursued holistic ministry in their particular contexts.

i am kicking around the idea of starting an emergent cohort in our area. the purpose of this group would be to discuss the ways that God is calling us to incarnate His gospel and Christ's compassion in our particular contexts. we would read and discuss pieces by intriguing theologians and practitioners that would help us incarnate the gospel in our area and would fight to move our conversations beyond the level of abstraction. sound interesting? if so, shoot me an email at jeffkelliegentry@yahoo.com. you can find more information about emergent cohorts here. if a number of you are interested we could either join an existing group in boston (which appears inactive) or start a new one.

not that it matters to you

first it was rob neyer, whose columns i read religiously. then it was buster olney, who had me at last night of the yankee dynasty. now espn.com has made peter gammons, the commissioner!, an insider columnist. well fuck this fucking game!

happy haiku friday!

in the warm waters

a tempest begins to spin

the fool ventures in

musing...

last weekend, in an aside unrelated to an ongoing conversation, i told kellie that i had failed a friend.

this friend was a key component of the twenty-something small group i led for several years. she is a beautiful, free-thinking woman who did not hesitate to introduce wiccans to our small community of Christians and taught me, as well as the small circle that reads the boston globe, how to put a human face on homelessness. she has been homeless and has studied at harvard, she has written for spare change (a local newspaper written by the homeless) and spoken at universities throughout the country. she is truly a remarkable woman.

of course, she is also a magnet for trouble and tragedy. after enduring three car wrecks in a sixteen month period, none of which she was liable for, she was diagnosed with brain injury. this degenerative condition rendered her susceptible to seizures and spinal meningitis and made it impossible for her to work. since her home state has very few social services, she found herself living on the streets of boston and constantly navigating the swamps and switchbacks of mass health. did i mention that her family rejected her when she decided b.j.u. (that's bob jones university. stop laughing) wasn't the ideal environment for her education? did i mention that people from her fundamentalist youth constantly call to berate her and draw direct parallels between her refusal to wave the flag of the five fundamentals and her constantly declining health? did i mention that i, one of her last connections to the faith, failed her by scrupulously maintaining my distance lest she inhibit the forward motion of my ministry?

so i guess it is confession time. i failed her because i was afraid. i didn't know how to solve her problems. i couldn't help her navigate a social health system that she knows better than me, i couldn't treat a single one of her ever-increasing number of maladies, i couldn't be bothered by a phone call a day. so i let our connection unravel. and i've felt like shit about it ever since.

after admitting my failure to kellie, i promised myself that i would call her this week. i knew she had been in the hospital for some time and i wanted to check on her health and maybe plan a visit.

she beat me to the punch. yesterday afternoon, i was shaken out of a well-studied stupor by a phone call from my friend. i took the call and was immediately greeted by a twinge of anxiety in her voice. people had been calling her cell phone and asking for me. we didn't know why this was happening, unless....unless it had to do with the t-mobile contract that i co-signed with her almost two years ago. by the way that she recounted the situation, it sounded like the calls were from a collection agency. and so they were.

after calling the agency, and dealing with some customer servant pissant who thought he could push me around, my first thought was, "this figures. if you stand my a magnet like her, the shit is going to hit you as well." fortunately, in that moment, i was reminded of my master's words to not be anxious. furthermore, i began to suspect that walking with my friend through shit like this, instead of keeping my distance lest the smell taint my "ministry," is what following Jesus is all about.

so i've made plans to see her this weekend in order to look through the details of that contract and simply connect. i have this sneaking suspicion that there is a direct, causal correlation between my love for her and my love for God. if i want to move deeper into the latter, i need to walk forward with the former.

post scriptum: friend, if you're reading this, please know that i love you. keep on keepin' on.

overheard…

“jesus was a lover. He had a fire in his eyes that could burn away excuses, cremate your alibis. He had a gaze that would expose to you all the subtle lies, that you soul permits your heart to tell concerning all that it denies…”
~don chaffer, against the windowpane

“those who believe they believe in God but without passion in the heart, without anguish of the mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.”
~madeleine l’engle as quoted in matthew paul turner’s provocative faith

“solitude is the furnace of transformation.”
~uncle henri, the way of the heart

“i intend to go anywhere, sponsored by anybody, to preach the gospel of Christ, if there are no strings attached to my message. the one badge of christian discipleship is not orthodoxy but love. christians are not limited to any church. the only question is: are you committed to Christ?"
~billy graham, responding to the charges of fundamentalists who charged him with heresy for treating mainline protestant pastors as his brothers and sisters in Christ. i thought about this passage time and again, when i read articles like this
(http://worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=45083)* that condemned billy for treating bill and hillary clinton, at least one of whom is a confessing Christian, with respect. i never thought i would find the position of fundamentalists more acceptable than that of many evangelicals. at least the former drew their lines along doctrinal, instead of political, lines.

“y’all don’t know what it’s like, being male, middle-class and white.”
~ben folds, rockin’ the suburbs

*please excuse the lack of a link. blogger can suck my white ass!

a prayer for sinners and saints

becky tucker, a liturgical poet and alumnus of sinners and saints, penned this remarkable prayer for our little community. since it says things about s & s that i could not say and observes realities that i often cannot see, i thought i would post it for you.

"jeff, i pray immeasurable blessings for you and for the community at sinners and saints as you lead in a journey where the community - the transformation of individuals into a cohesive, interdependent, kingdom residing and kingdom seeking family - replaces self-change as focus.

this is where "recovering evangelical" seem so appropriate. for myself and my community, taking eyes off self and replacing the unspiritual discipline of navel gazing with the spiritual discipline of intentional community is a stretch so painful, i often feel unconfident that it will not break us-or atlest me.

God is active in the entity that sinners and saints has become and, though increasingly cynical about most things, i am hopefully confident that your growth and leadership will be a fruitful seed for a breath-taking work of communal art!!!!"

overheard...

“life isn’t happily ever after and golden sunsets and shit like that. it’s work. the person you love is rarely worthy of how big your love is. because no one is worthy of that and maybe no one deserves the burden of it, either. you’ll be let down. you’ll be disappointed and have your trust broken and have a lot of real sucky days. You lose more than you win. you hate the person you love as much as you love him. but, shit, you roll up your sleeves and work - at everything - because that’s what growing older is.”

~annabeth marcus in dennis lehayne’s mystic river

“we want to make good time, but for us now this is measured with emphasis on good, rather than time. and when you make that shift in emphasis, the whole approach changes.”

~robert pirsig, zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance

“she seems so depressed sometimes by the monotony and boredom of her city life, I thought that maybe in this endless grass and wind she would see a thing that sometimes comes when monotony and boredom are accepted. It’s here, but I have no names for it.”

~robert pirsig, ibid.

“it is infinitely easier to cultivate a congregation that will listen to the Word of God than to cultivate one that will worship God.”
~pastor jack hayford, quoted in christianity today

musing…

“every crutch you use is keeping you from a deeper dependence,” he said. i believe him.

i have a closet full of crutches that keep me from fully depending upon God and entrusting my broken body to the strong, sustaining arms of the other. these crutches promise to help me stand and so sustain my life. however, every time i fall flat on the pavement i realize that their promises are illusory.

so i’m throwing them out. i’m going to cast off my crutches like a paralytic at a tent-revival. i’m going to snap them in half and set them out with the garbage. i’m sure there are crutches hidden in long-forgotten places and i know that every trial i face will tempt me to buy another set, but i can’t allow those facts to distract me from this moment of decision. the hymn is playing friends, and i’m walking forward. damn those crutches to hell…i’m going to lean on the only one that can sustain me. i’m going to depend on the life, grace and mercy that he promises and his people dispense.

amen.

musing...

on sunday evening a friend said something funny. in the midst of a conversation concerning spiritual matters he said, "you sound healthier than i have ever heard you. what strikes me about our conversation is that you did not start by talking about your personal spiritual journey. rather, you started by talking about the health of the church. your heart has been set on fire for the church."

hmm...i wish that his observation was completely true. however, the mere fact that it is partially true, that i am as interested, intrigued and intense about the spiritual well being about our community as i am about my own life, encourages me.

it encourages me. and yet, i cannot help but think about how much further i have to go. if my love for the church eventually outgrows my love for myself (and i desperately hope that it does), i think the consequences will be numerous. here are a few:

i will be more aware of how my words, my often abrasive, sarcastic, penetrating words have the potential to, or in fact do, wound others. case in point: i will not jokingly call james and rhys "fags" when one of my coworkers, who is most likely homosexual, is sitting five feet away.

i will complete those damned "not urgent but important tasks, like finalizing a leadership consulting team for the church and filing those 401c3 papers, that i would rather ignore.

i will do a better job of listening to my wife. the pixie is wise in so many ways (relational, practical, ecclesiological...) that i am not. she has so many wise things to say about the church that i will not hear unless i slow down and listen.

i will spend more time listening to God and would develop a deeper sensitivity to the Spirit. i think they have a few things to say about the church.

i will not judge my brothers and sisters.

i will stay in better touch with and develop personal relationships with the missionaries we support.

i will once again invest myself in theological reflection. i once rejected these labors because i correctly discerned that my motives were narcissistic. now, by God's grace, my motives will be communal.

i will retreat regularly for study, reflection and prayer. i will also create opportunities for others to do the same.

i will follow-up on visitors and find creative ways to encourage the members of our community.

i am sure there are other consequences. by God's grace, i will be surprised by the consequences of my love for the church becoming greater and my love for self becoming less.

if you ever have the time to pray for me, if there is one empty slot on your ever growing list, please pray that my love for the church and her Lord, will increase. may my narcissism decrease and my love for the church increase. perhaps one day my friend's assertion will be found completely true.

overheard…

“in many long hours of prayer in the caves, i realized anew that the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ supercedes all else, allowing us to experience a freedom that is not limited by the borders of a world that is itself in chains. at the same time i recognized that many of the burning theological issues in the church today are neither burning nor theological and that in an age characterized (in some quarters) by confusion, third-rate theatrics, and infidelity, it is not more rhetoric that Jesus demands but personal renewal, fidelity to the gospel and creative conduct. as emile cardinal leger said in his farewell to montreal, “the time for talking is over.”

~brennan manning, reflecting on his time with the “little brothers of Jesus” in the introduction to the importance of being foolish

meet me at "the G spot"

on saturday evening kellie and i, along with our friend erik kerr, made our way down to the emergence gathering on the south shore. as we encircled the city on I-95 we talked about our respective churches, our allusive vocations and other emerging churches we had visited.

during the latter part of our conversation erik mentioned that he had visited an emerging church that once met in warwick, rhode island. he said great things about the congregation and wondered whether their leaders had anything to do with the worship service we were planning to attend. erik said the only funny thing about the church was the name. when i inquired about the name his face broke out into a rather mischievous grin. "it was called the grace spot." "what's so odd about that," i countered. "nothing" he admitted, "except for the fact that their logo was a large circle in which was a upper case, bold font G with the word 'spot' scrawled underneath." at this point the three of us cracked up and kellie mentioned that "only conservative Christians could make such an oversight." to this, erik replied, "early on their attendance was remarkably high."

this morning, while dr. james, rhys and i laughed about the g spot we started rattling off the worst church names we have ever heard. of all of the ones i have run across, the g spot is the worst. the good dr. says that the worst he has ever heard of is the backside redemption church that meets in Maine.

ready to waste time? here is your assignment: let us in on the worst church names you have ever heard. by the end of the afternoon (5 p.m. e.s.t.) we are going to compile an all-time top five list. if anyone unseats the g spot, which is currently slotted at #1, they will receive the coveted "poo dollar."

"that's the way it was, and we liked it!"

two different people have told me this week that i am becoming an old man. since one of these illustrious individuals was my wife, i think there might be some truth to it.

so in honor of my prescient friends, and to blow of a little steam, i would like to share this little list. and to answer your question kid positive, i did shake my fist multiple times while typing this tirade. damn kids!

the world was a better place before:

• blogger mucked up my font size. their "updates" also converted my old school, unimaginative font type. i don't like it!


• major league baseball in florida


• the nhl invaded the confederate states


• cell phones. yes, all of them. no exceptions


• mochachinos, frappachinos and iced blueberry lattes


• reality television. mr. knight, i'm with rick on this one. reality t.v. is irredeemable trash


• simon cowell


• jerry bruckheimer


• nascar in new england


• plastic surgery


• the proliferation of suburban prostitution. girls, put away the skanky eighties skirts, the locust glasses and the baby tees and learn to cover your anorexic little asses


• cowboy troy
• mlb on fox


• wal-mart


• everything was made to break. i should be able to use my space heater or tape player for 24 hours a day for the 12 months it is under warranty. everything (with the possible exception of prophylactics) should be made for continuous use
• gene michael was named g.m. of the yankees


• budweiser ultra
• southwest airlines


• the moral majority, ralph reed and the republican right. the government, my dear friends, won't save you


• the democrats became cowards


• the proliferation of alternate home and road jerseys in the mlb. white at home, grey away. i want the cubs to wear pin stripes at home, the red sox to leave their batting practice jerseys in fort myers and the cardinals baby blues to remain in static display or team photos at the hall of fame


• karl rove
• the wiggles


• s.u.v.s


• robert deniro masqueraded as a comedian. the king of comedy he is not


• lindsay lohan


• i posted this list

dear readers, thank you for wasting precious minutes of your precariously short lives here. i would ask you to refrain from refuting my opinions, but such an assertion would be pointless. that being said, do not expect me to change my opinions. that’s the way it was and i liked it!

"this stage is a confessional, you kneel and then begin. yeah, you cross yourself those three times, and step into this skin." ~bill mallonee, anyside of anywhere

i've been trying to blog less at work. as much as i piss and moan about lifeway, i really love this place. who would want to loose such a golden opportunity to exploit ashley smith, pimp the purpose-driven life and commodify christ?

unfortunately such noble intentions will not keep one from sleep. blogging oftentimes will. so please allow me to piss on my commitment, crack my knuckles and pound the keyboard for a few.

confessions are funny things aren't they? it reminds me of the first time that i entered the confessional at parochial school. after father dan called me by name, reminded me of God's love and asked if there was anything that was keeping me from a full experience of God's love, i responded with a simple question: "is it true that i confess anything, from smoking pot to committing murder, and you can't tell a soul?" when he responded in the affirmative, i immediately confessed: "i was the second gunman on the grassy knoll." this admission didn't please father dan. in fact, i think it might have pissed him off. as i reflect on this incident thirteen years later i am embarassed about my irreverence and comforted by the fact that he couldn't tell.

all cheek aside, i think confession is good for the soul. i don't think you have to enter a penitential phonebooth to confess your brokenness, but you better get it done somehow. confession not only opens the door for forgiveness, it also strengthens our bonds with one another. what is most personal is most universal...indeed.

that's a long introduction to a brief confession. but, anyway, before God, you and servers throughout this great land i would like to confess that:

• i am much more materialistic than i would like to admit. late last week i accidentally emptied our checking account by overpaying our credit card bill by $975. as a result we have been counting pennies like never before and i have been fantasizing about purchases i wouldn't care less about if we had the cash. "DMB has a new album out, you have to get it," my mind insists. but, in more sane moments, i realize that their last two albums have been sub-par and when monied i have ignored the opportunity to purchase. "it's been a long week, you deserve another bottle of castle rock pinot noir," my tongue ecstatically spews. but, in reality i realize that my current desire to drink well and be the second coming of paul giamatti is going to be short lived.
  
• now that i'm ten minutes into this, i don't feel the least bit guilty about typing this at work. the convention demands and receives far too much of my sweet ass time anyway.
• when my friend josh recently reminded me that another member of our seminary squad still disliked me, it didn't bother me one bit. my whole life i have pissed 5-10% of the people in any given community off. my father once told me that sometimes when i say hello to people it sounds like "fuck you" (sorry for the curse mom. dad said it, i merely spelled it). he said this was a "gift," but i am beginning to suspect that he was being sarcastic. anyway...i have finally learned to accept that, for some reason, i am a stench in the nostrils of some people. i am finally ok with that. i am not and never will be a people pleaser. i cannot make everyone happy. i will do my best to love, serve and listen to others, but i will not try to untangle or reshape their interpretations of me.
• i ate a brown bear burger the other day. from what I heard, the bear who graciously provided our lunch was little more than a cub that just happened to be an inch over the required height limit. he tasted good. the rabbit breast, on the other hand, was filthy. there’s nothing like picking hair out of your cut of meat.
• i want to run a marathon someday and maybe write a book. but that's a secret, so don't tell.
• once, while working at orange julius, i blended a live cockroach into a customer's beverage. he was a hard-up twenty-something who was trying to seduce teenage girls at the mall. i offered him the drink free of charge and do not regret what i did.
• i would rather be ecstatic or depressed than anesthetized. yet my current emotional state could easily be characterized as the latter.
• i am the most unimaginative internet surfer ever. i visit about fifteen blogs a couple of times a day, hit cnn.com and pour over the articles at espn.com. nothing less, nothing more. exotic
  

i am beginning to think that the commonality of our sins leads to rather banal confessions. ladies and gentlemen of the jury, “exhibit A."

mid-morning time waster: (re) name that book

yesterday, lifeway was excited to receive our first shipment of james rutz's (rhymes with klutz) new book. however, since, as dr. kuzmic so cleverly noted, "mega shift" sounds far too similar to mega shit we have decided to (re) name the book in order to make it a little more family friendly.

feel free to submit a new name for this exciting new volume! lifeway's distinguished panel of judges will select one new name by the end of the business day and will award the winner with a limited edition poo dollar.



please note: this feature is produced in accompaniment with dr. james enterprises. all rights reserved.

hello jed. i'm sorry that it's been a while since i touched base. the more comfortable i get with people, the quieter i become. so consider my silence the sign and seal of our friendship.

i have been reading a number of intriguing books lately, including d.a. carson's becoming conversant with the emerging church, harry potter and the sorcerer's stone (for your information, i have not paired such fantasy reading with pewter figurines and role playing games. smart ass) and walter wangerin's book of sorrows. however, most of my reading time has been devoted to jean vanier's community and growth. but you probably already knew this.

anyway, as i was sitting on the beverly common on monday afternoon i stumbled across the following passage...

"tiny children live by love and presence - the time of childhood is a time of trust. adolescents live by generosity, utopian ideals and hope. adults become realistic, commit themselves and assume responsibilities; this is the time of fidelity. finally, old people refind the time of confidence which is also wisdom."

this is the time of fidelity. jed, i'm going to be honest with you, i've been mourning the death of ideals and dreams as of late. some of my dreams, such as the quest for theological certainty and my desire to play varsity baseball, died years ago, but their reverberations continue to pulsate through my chest. others, such as my desire for a meaningful occupation, are shriveling with each additional keystroke. i often find myself sentimentalizing the past, applying my twenty-twenty hindsight to past failure, longing to relive certain parts of my ever expanding life once again.

but i can't. those days are dead now and every 6 a.m. resurrection pushes me out into the present. so as utopian dreams drift away like dear brigadoon i am left only with an unfinished master's degree, a tedious life in a cube, the small band of unbelieving believers who consider me one of their own, a wife that is constructed of things eternal, and the poems, prose and apocalypses that serve as a guide to reality.

jed, i could spend all day flagellating myself with questions concerning my attempted entry into the citadel, why i sacrificed the experience of redemptive community on the altar of theological abstractions or whether i could have learned to "slow down the game" and utilize this slingshot God gave me. but such questions disassociate me from the present and lead me out of the moment.

the moment in which i am called to be faithful to my wife, responsible for this small band of unbelieving believers and a competent commodifier of our lord and savior jesus christ. you went too early jed, but at least you got to take your ideals and dreams with you. keeping your feet moving once those have dissolved is a bitch.

anyway, john tetzel just shot me a nasty look, so i better get back to work. as he and the upper management of lifeway are always reminding me, "every time a coin in the coffer rings, the soul from southern baptist purgatory springs." the time of fidelity. glamorous.