i never claimed to be a promise keeper
unfortunately i have yet to write the review of doug pagitt's preaching re-imagined that i promised. however, i found a fairly interesting interview with doug that was posted at christianbook.com. please note: neither i, the management of musings, nor lifeway endorse the consumer-driven, subtly liberal, crypto-communist website that this interview was posted on. peruse this site at your own risk.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Thursday, August 18, 2005
undone
yesterday, in the midst of categorizing a stack of books, i stumbled across the reprint edition of the faces of Jesus by frederick buechner. after reading the copy on the front jacket flap i flipped the pages en masse so that i could see if there was an author photo featured on the back.
fortunately there was a photo. upon seeing it i was almost undone. buechner has always been incredibly photogenic, as the covers of his little autobiographies attest, but this photo pierced me so deeply that i almost wept. in this photograph, buechner looks old and bemused. his h-frame mouth is open just enough to offer a sympathetic smile and his eyes bear witness to a lifetime full of tightly clinched, discerning squints that were occasionally overwhelmed by wide-eyed wonder. as i scrutinized uncle freddy’s liver spots and last wisps of hair, i realized how grateful i am that my life has overlapped with this liberal, literary prophet and how utterly afraid i am of the day that he finally departs.
so many of uncle freddy’s words have opened my heart to the Word and his constant reminders to “listen to your life” have helped me salvage a few remnants of sense from this shipwrecked, chaotic world. as odd as it sounds, i hold him as close as i hold family and, as pagan as it sounds, i pray that when he passes God will grant me a portion of his spirit.
is there an author that simultaneously helps hold you together and enables you to hold out hope for the future? if so, i’d love to hear about it.
yesterday, in the midst of categorizing a stack of books, i stumbled across the reprint edition of the faces of Jesus by frederick buechner. after reading the copy on the front jacket flap i flipped the pages en masse so that i could see if there was an author photo featured on the back.
fortunately there was a photo. upon seeing it i was almost undone. buechner has always been incredibly photogenic, as the covers of his little autobiographies attest, but this photo pierced me so deeply that i almost wept. in this photograph, buechner looks old and bemused. his h-frame mouth is open just enough to offer a sympathetic smile and his eyes bear witness to a lifetime full of tightly clinched, discerning squints that were occasionally overwhelmed by wide-eyed wonder. as i scrutinized uncle freddy’s liver spots and last wisps of hair, i realized how grateful i am that my life has overlapped with this liberal, literary prophet and how utterly afraid i am of the day that he finally departs.
so many of uncle freddy’s words have opened my heart to the Word and his constant reminders to “listen to your life” have helped me salvage a few remnants of sense from this shipwrecked, chaotic world. as odd as it sounds, i hold him as close as i hold family and, as pagan as it sounds, i pray that when he passes God will grant me a portion of his spirit.
is there an author that simultaneously helps hold you together and enables you to hold out hope for the future? if so, i’d love to hear about it.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
“look kids! It’s a…it’s a…it’s a rocket ship!”
i haven’t been there yet, but i would still be willing to bet that hell is a lot like bolivar, missouri. it was there, on the unsuspecting stage of baptist bible college, that i revealed my adolescent indulgences to three hundred, hormone-driven teens.
we had been doing hand motions for three days, i was ready to kill one of the other sponsors and was dying for a cigarette. so to say i was sick of c.i.y. was an understatement. on wednesday afternoon, killing time before the alternative alleluia band was supposed to play kevin greer decided to stage a mid-afternoon timewaster. as he began to hand-select the objects of his ridicule from the crowd, i began to feel sick. he was going to pick me. i knew he was going to pick me and all of my self-determined denials wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. i was right.
as i made my way backstage, barely bottling my rage, the stage manager directed me to a sound-proof green room where i received my assignment. “when you get on stage,” the pimple popping ozark intern told me, “make-believe that you are taking off in a rocket ship.” “is that all you have to tell me,” i asked. “oh yeah, one more thing,” he said, “there’ll be a black chair on stage that you can use however you want.” so there i sat, cursing my fate and awaiting my fifteen seconds. although i couldn’t hear kevin from the green room, i could hear the crowd roaring. in that moment, i knew i was being set up. i was right.
when my moment came, i swept the curtain aside as inconspicuously as possible, tried not to look at the six hundred eager eyes that were staring at me and made my way to the chair. i immediately tipped the chair so that its back was resting on the stage, sat down in the chair so that my back and legs were parallel with the stage, clasped my hands together and put them right below my crotch. then, at the word “go” i trembled violently, made thundering rocket ship noises and rapidly adjusted the imaginary yoke between my legs.
after fifteen seconds of my antics, i was overwhelmed by the roar of the crowd. when i stood up, straightened my shirt and looked in kevin’s eyes, i could see that they were filled with tears. when i looked out at the crowd, i saw my youth minister on his knees laughing. i immediately began to panic.
after i made my way off the stage, flush red in the face, i asked my youth minister what the set up was. he told me in a rushed, hyper-ventilating voice that i was mimicking “what i did in the bathroom.”
that was the last time i waxed my rocket ship in a public setting. and that, my friends, is yet another reason that i am not a youth minister.
i haven’t been there yet, but i would still be willing to bet that hell is a lot like bolivar, missouri. it was there, on the unsuspecting stage of baptist bible college, that i revealed my adolescent indulgences to three hundred, hormone-driven teens.
we had been doing hand motions for three days, i was ready to kill one of the other sponsors and was dying for a cigarette. so to say i was sick of c.i.y. was an understatement. on wednesday afternoon, killing time before the alternative alleluia band was supposed to play kevin greer decided to stage a mid-afternoon timewaster. as he began to hand-select the objects of his ridicule from the crowd, i began to feel sick. he was going to pick me. i knew he was going to pick me and all of my self-determined denials wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. i was right.
as i made my way backstage, barely bottling my rage, the stage manager directed me to a sound-proof green room where i received my assignment. “when you get on stage,” the pimple popping ozark intern told me, “make-believe that you are taking off in a rocket ship.” “is that all you have to tell me,” i asked. “oh yeah, one more thing,” he said, “there’ll be a black chair on stage that you can use however you want.” so there i sat, cursing my fate and awaiting my fifteen seconds. although i couldn’t hear kevin from the green room, i could hear the crowd roaring. in that moment, i knew i was being set up. i was right.
when my moment came, i swept the curtain aside as inconspicuously as possible, tried not to look at the six hundred eager eyes that were staring at me and made my way to the chair. i immediately tipped the chair so that its back was resting on the stage, sat down in the chair so that my back and legs were parallel with the stage, clasped my hands together and put them right below my crotch. then, at the word “go” i trembled violently, made thundering rocket ship noises and rapidly adjusted the imaginary yoke between my legs.
after fifteen seconds of my antics, i was overwhelmed by the roar of the crowd. when i stood up, straightened my shirt and looked in kevin’s eyes, i could see that they were filled with tears. when i looked out at the crowd, i saw my youth minister on his knees laughing. i immediately began to panic.
after i made my way off the stage, flush red in the face, i asked my youth minister what the set up was. he told me in a rushed, hyper-ventilating voice that i was mimicking “what i did in the bathroom.”
that was the last time i waxed my rocket ship in a public setting. and that, my friends, is yet another reason that i am not a youth minister.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
amidst the atmospheric “pop”
after diagnosing spiritual schizophrenia
he said
why do i feel so fragmented
if i was created to be whole?
amidst the firing synapses
is there room enough for soul?
perhaps this is the result
of exchanging absolutes for ambiguity
or rather an expression of humility
of contemplation outstripping capability
after diagnosing spiritual schizophrenia
he said
- prayer is the prescription
the community provides counseling
why do i feel so fragmented
if i was created to be whole?
amidst the firing synapses
is there room enough for soul?
perhaps this is the result
of exchanging absolutes for ambiguity
- and getting a quarter on the dollar
or rather an expression of humility
of contemplation outstripping capability
- let us pray for the latter
Sunday, August 14, 2005
memorandum from captain random
it's 9:37p.m. i'm drinking my second cup of reheated coffee, seriously considering a glass of wine and committed to defraging my spirit for the next sixty minutes. i thought for some odd reason you might enjoy seeing my blue screen incrementally overtaken by the little white boxes of underdeveloped thoughts.
9:42 p.m. - regardless of how this series unfolds, i am incredibly proud of the way the cardinals have played over the last six weeks. since the all-star break four of our regulars (molina, walker, rolen and sanders) have been injured and they have gone 16-10. i had hoped they could play .525 ball during this stretch, so obviously they have surpassed my expectations. if we can just treat water until mid-september, get molina/walker/sanders (rolen appears to be d-u-n) on track and perhaps get some bullpen smoke out of reyes, we might be able to make a strong run in october.
9:45 p.m. - life lessons i have learned from baseball:
9:54 p.m. - the cardinals are showing some life, mark prior does not appear to be the god i once thought he was and i would like to recommend a superb cardinals blog to you. it's called viva el birdos, which i think is spanish for the cardinals are the shiz-nite, and the author's attention to detail and analysis are excellent. even a summary perusal of the posts will show you why i am not a full-time baseball blogger (i.e., i have neither the time nor the statistical ability to develop such sophisticated proposals).
10:00 p.m. - if the cardinals had as much organizational talent as the cubs and did as little with it, i would be on psychotropics by now. over the past three years i have been constantly mystified by their inability to dominate the central.
10:04 p.m. - that is the nicest thing you will ever hear me say about the cubs. speaking of that glass of wine, i would like to thank alex for providing me with such a generous portion. i wish he was here to enjoy it with me.
10:06 p.m. - several years ago, i thought of myself as mr. social justice. i challenged apparent evangelical indifference towards the urban poor, parroted jim wallis and spent my vacations serving with the l'arche community in downtown toronto. now, although i am actively engaged in social concerns on the local level, i am remarkably ignorant about darfur, the developing famine in niger and a million additional concerns i am unaware of. the upside of my current situation is that i have a number of friends, especially dr. james, rick and craig that are constantly reminding me of these concerns. in this area i set out to be a leader, but am now being led. i think i'm ok with that.
10:16 p.m. - i have been reading moby dick over the past couple of days in an attempt to reintroduce myself to american classics and start preparing for the secondary ed. prep exam that i'll be taking next spring. anyway, i have found melville's sense of humor striking and his religious thought unexpectedly progressive. would you like to hear a few quotes? i thought you might...
10:32 p.m. - over the past week or so another new character has been given a reoccurring role on the gentry show. his name is ken and he's a twenty year old magician, student and all around nice guy. ken grew up in colorado springs, where he was turned off by megachurches, humored by evangelicals who would approach his mohawked brother in restaurants only to say things like "god is right there in your hands" and briefly employed by focus on the family as an extra in a movie who's plot he described as "non-christian teenage parties are bad, christian teenage parties are good." anyway, for reasons both obvious and unknown, ken is not committed to living in the way of Jesus. however, our conversations this weekend have touched on the church more often than not. why the rambling narrative, you ask, good question...here's the rub. ken is obviously interested in our church or at least continuing to be a part of our community, but i have yet to directly ask him to "come to church." early this afternoon he asked me what time we met (the fact that i spent all day sitting on my ass reading tipped him off to the fact that we didn't read on sunday) and when he stopped by for dinner this evening he asked what a regular service was like, but i still did not invite him.
i've invited him to join us before, but he seemed uninterested. now, i'm going to leave him to his own initiative. i hope this intuitive approach is wise.
10:45 p.m. - so i've broke the sixty minute mark. sue me. you're the one who is bored enough to read this shit. as the allusion in the previous snippet was intended to suggest, i've been reading nick hornby this weekend. if you enjoy his rapacious wit, have been charmed by his humorous, humane novels and/or prefer to read about reading literature rather than actually reading it yourself, you'll love polysyllabic spree.
10:55 p.m. - i think the crumbling discus thrower anti-steroid ads would be much more effective if they provided virile young men with an image of how steroids de-values the family jewels. i don't think that the demise of their calves is going to weigh on the future "physical education" and "recreation science" majors of america. but irreversible shrinkage? that'll keep a few of 'em up late at night.
11:00 p.m. - i just heard that tracy "tickner" monts, one of my favorite people in bible college, and her husband aaron are moving to boston next summer. from what i've heard so far, it appears that they are planning on staying and serving with a new church plant for a defined amount of time. however, i am already hoping that they decide to stay in the area of become a part of our community after their enlistment in the boston project is up. a boy can hope.
11:05 p.m. - this is the sound of me spell-checking. good night!
it's 9:37p.m. i'm drinking my second cup of reheated coffee, seriously considering a glass of wine and committed to defraging my spirit for the next sixty minutes. i thought for some odd reason you might enjoy seeing my blue screen incrementally overtaken by the little white boxes of underdeveloped thoughts.
9:42 p.m. - regardless of how this series unfolds, i am incredibly proud of the way the cardinals have played over the last six weeks. since the all-star break four of our regulars (molina, walker, rolen and sanders) have been injured and they have gone 16-10. i had hoped they could play .525 ball during this stretch, so obviously they have surpassed my expectations. if we can just treat water until mid-september, get molina/walker/sanders (rolen appears to be d-u-n) on track and perhaps get some bullpen smoke out of reyes, we might be able to make a strong run in october.
9:45 p.m. - life lessons i have learned from baseball:
- slow the game down
- play a hard nine
- replicate your mechanics
- candlesticks always make a nice gift
9:54 p.m. - the cardinals are showing some life, mark prior does not appear to be the god i once thought he was and i would like to recommend a superb cardinals blog to you. it's called viva el birdos, which i think is spanish for the cardinals are the shiz-nite, and the author's attention to detail and analysis are excellent. even a summary perusal of the posts will show you why i am not a full-time baseball blogger (i.e., i have neither the time nor the statistical ability to develop such sophisticated proposals).
10:00 p.m. - if the cardinals had as much organizational talent as the cubs and did as little with it, i would be on psychotropics by now. over the past three years i have been constantly mystified by their inability to dominate the central.
10:04 p.m. - that is the nicest thing you will ever hear me say about the cubs. speaking of that glass of wine, i would like to thank alex for providing me with such a generous portion. i wish he was here to enjoy it with me.
10:06 p.m. - several years ago, i thought of myself as mr. social justice. i challenged apparent evangelical indifference towards the urban poor, parroted jim wallis and spent my vacations serving with the l'arche community in downtown toronto. now, although i am actively engaged in social concerns on the local level, i am remarkably ignorant about darfur, the developing famine in niger and a million additional concerns i am unaware of. the upside of my current situation is that i have a number of friends, especially dr. james, rick and craig that are constantly reminding me of these concerns. in this area i set out to be a leader, but am now being led. i think i'm ok with that.
10:16 p.m. - i have been reading moby dick over the past couple of days in an attempt to reintroduce myself to american classics and start preparing for the secondary ed. prep exam that i'll be taking next spring. anyway, i have found melville's sense of humor striking and his religious thought unexpectedly progressive. would you like to hear a few quotes? i thought you might...
- "heaven have mercy on us all - presbyterians and pagans alike - for we are all somehow directly cracked about the head, and sadly need mending" (pg. 90).
- "i know what he is - a good man - not a pious good man, like bildad, but a swearing good man - something like me..." (88-89)
- "if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves, and it is in disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists" (48)
- "yes, the world's a ship on its passage out, and not a voyage complete; and the pulpit is its prow" (45. wonderful quote, eh? too bad i don't believe it)
- "better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken christian" (26. yeah, it's a bit reductionistic and derivative, but i like it)
- "what of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? what does that indignity amount to, weighed, i mean, in the scales of the new testament?...who ain't a slave? tell me that" (6)
10:32 p.m. - over the past week or so another new character has been given a reoccurring role on the gentry show. his name is ken and he's a twenty year old magician, student and all around nice guy. ken grew up in colorado springs, where he was turned off by megachurches, humored by evangelicals who would approach his mohawked brother in restaurants only to say things like "god is right there in your hands" and briefly employed by focus on the family as an extra in a movie who's plot he described as "non-christian teenage parties are bad, christian teenage parties are good." anyway, for reasons both obvious and unknown, ken is not committed to living in the way of Jesus. however, our conversations this weekend have touched on the church more often than not. why the rambling narrative, you ask, good question...here's the rub. ken is obviously interested in our church or at least continuing to be a part of our community, but i have yet to directly ask him to "come to church." early this afternoon he asked me what time we met (the fact that i spent all day sitting on my ass reading tipped him off to the fact that we didn't read on sunday) and when he stopped by for dinner this evening he asked what a regular service was like, but i still did not invite him.
i've invited him to join us before, but he seemed uninterested. now, i'm going to leave him to his own initiative. i hope this intuitive approach is wise.
10:45 p.m. - so i've broke the sixty minute mark. sue me. you're the one who is bored enough to read this shit. as the allusion in the previous snippet was intended to suggest, i've been reading nick hornby this weekend. if you enjoy his rapacious wit, have been charmed by his humorous, humane novels and/or prefer to read about reading literature rather than actually reading it yourself, you'll love polysyllabic spree.
10:55 p.m. - i think the crumbling discus thrower anti-steroid ads would be much more effective if they provided virile young men with an image of how steroids de-values the family jewels. i don't think that the demise of their calves is going to weigh on the future "physical education" and "recreation science" majors of america. but irreversible shrinkage? that'll keep a few of 'em up late at night.
11:00 p.m. - i just heard that tracy "tickner" monts, one of my favorite people in bible college, and her husband aaron are moving to boston next summer. from what i've heard so far, it appears that they are planning on staying and serving with a new church plant for a defined amount of time. however, i am already hoping that they decide to stay in the area of become a part of our community after their enlistment in the boston project is up. a boy can hope.
11:05 p.m. - this is the sound of me spell-checking. good night!
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
wearing out the gospel glove
with sweat on his brow and calf-skin bible in hand, the free-will baptist preacher stoked the hell fire that was most assuredly awaitin' us. he needn't have bothered. i was already in the front pew, begging God's forgiveness.
after the youth minister contrasted the conquering King of Glory on the white horse with the dastardly one riding the pale horse, my feet stumbled down the risers and i waded into the sea of recommittals.
following a particularly penetrating sermon on our proclivity towards judgment, i fixed my eyes on the orange carpet and walked forward to confess. i had sinned against my brothers and sisters by what i had said and left unsaid. instead of awaiting the sifting of the white seat of judgment i had seared my community with my white hot sarcasm and condemnation. i hoped that my words laid the foundation for a long labor of love.
i once detested this apparent desire to participate in every experience of conversion ever created and questioned the authenticity of my catalytically converted heart. in the warmest tones, they had told me time and again that the initial immersion was more than enough. others whispered that once i was saved, my ticket was non-refundable. but their affirmations, well-intended though they were, have never squared with my experience of faith. i have always felt that conversion is not so much a punctiliar as it is a progressive experience. i constantly feel the need to "recommit" my life to Christ and if i dwelt in an altar call environment my ass would be quite familiar with the front pew. so strap on the gospel glove and encourage the accompanist to play her favorite conversion tune. this boy is comin' home.
with sweat on his brow and calf-skin bible in hand, the free-will baptist preacher stoked the hell fire that was most assuredly awaitin' us. he needn't have bothered. i was already in the front pew, begging God's forgiveness.
after the youth minister contrasted the conquering King of Glory on the white horse with the dastardly one riding the pale horse, my feet stumbled down the risers and i waded into the sea of recommittals.
following a particularly penetrating sermon on our proclivity towards judgment, i fixed my eyes on the orange carpet and walked forward to confess. i had sinned against my brothers and sisters by what i had said and left unsaid. instead of awaiting the sifting of the white seat of judgment i had seared my community with my white hot sarcasm and condemnation. i hoped that my words laid the foundation for a long labor of love.
i once detested this apparent desire to participate in every experience of conversion ever created and questioned the authenticity of my catalytically converted heart. in the warmest tones, they had told me time and again that the initial immersion was more than enough. others whispered that once i was saved, my ticket was non-refundable. but their affirmations, well-intended though they were, have never squared with my experience of faith. i have always felt that conversion is not so much a punctiliar as it is a progressive experience. i constantly feel the need to "recommit" my life to Christ and if i dwelt in an altar call environment my ass would be quite familiar with the front pew. so strap on the gospel glove and encourage the accompanist to play her favorite conversion tune. this boy is comin' home.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
musing
hello world. sorry that i've been on the lam for a bit. i've been listening to your voices and reading a good bit, but i haven't had time to transcribe my thoughts, fears and feelings. i don't have a ton of time today either, since it is 7:43 a.m. and i need to turn my attention to commodifying Christ. but here are a few of my recent thoughts about my reading and this reality that i find so hard to interpret.
i've found another literary mentor. his name is preacher will and he is a subversive southern baptist preacher from mississippi. in his heartrending biography, titled brother to a dragonfly, will recounts the story of his conversion, his calling to the ministry and the significant role that he played in the civil rights movement of the fifties and sixties. however, as significant as these experiences and events were, they pale in comparison to will's commitment to his brother joe. although will has a number of incredible stories to tell, one gets the feeling that these stories wouldn't be worth a damn if he had failed to be faithful to his brother joe. for some reason that fact tore me to pieces. i think there is far too much media focused upon star crossed lovers and not enough focused on strengthening and stretching the ties that bind. brother to a dragonfly is a notable exception. you can count on me is another.
i stumbled across a quote from vanier this morning. it unmasked my delusions of grandeur and called me to the gritty work of faith. i thought you might like to hear it: "a community is only being created when its members accept that they are not going to achieve great things, that they are not going to be heroes, but simply live each day with new hope, like children, in wonderment as the sun rises and thanksgiving as it sets...the beauty of people is in this fidelity to the wonder of each day" (Community and Growth, pg. 109).
i took mark to see ben folds and rufus wainwright in concert on friday night. it was a beautiful evening on the water and ben folds did not disappoint. however, much to my surprise, i found that i am not much of a rufus fan. like i said on jamie's blog i think he intones like randy travis and his diction is deplorable. all things equal, i'd rather see randy travis.
when i was in high school i told one of my history teachers, who turned out to be a dirty pedophile by the way, that "one day he would work for me." that might have been a little arrogant of me, especially since i am now quite interested in pursuing my teaching certification. i think i would like to teach high school english. in my mind, a successful high school english teacher needs to have a love of language, a desire walk with adolescents through the perilous process of identification and a studied disregard of authority and convention. assuming that this is true, i think i would make a decent teach. if all goes well, i will take my qualifying exams in the spring and start classes next summer.
in case you hadn't heard, on sunday david eckstein hit a walk-off grand slam in the ninth inning to propel the cardinals to victory. the last time that happened was on april 18, 1987, when my family decided to beat traffic by leaving the game a little bit early. that was a lesson learned.
hello world. sorry that i've been on the lam for a bit. i've been listening to your voices and reading a good bit, but i haven't had time to transcribe my thoughts, fears and feelings. i don't have a ton of time today either, since it is 7:43 a.m. and i need to turn my attention to commodifying Christ. but here are a few of my recent thoughts about my reading and this reality that i find so hard to interpret.
i've found another literary mentor. his name is preacher will and he is a subversive southern baptist preacher from mississippi. in his heartrending biography, titled brother to a dragonfly, will recounts the story of his conversion, his calling to the ministry and the significant role that he played in the civil rights movement of the fifties and sixties. however, as significant as these experiences and events were, they pale in comparison to will's commitment to his brother joe. although will has a number of incredible stories to tell, one gets the feeling that these stories wouldn't be worth a damn if he had failed to be faithful to his brother joe. for some reason that fact tore me to pieces. i think there is far too much media focused upon star crossed lovers and not enough focused on strengthening and stretching the ties that bind. brother to a dragonfly is a notable exception. you can count on me is another.
i stumbled across a quote from vanier this morning. it unmasked my delusions of grandeur and called me to the gritty work of faith. i thought you might like to hear it: "a community is only being created when its members accept that they are not going to achieve great things, that they are not going to be heroes, but simply live each day with new hope, like children, in wonderment as the sun rises and thanksgiving as it sets...the beauty of people is in this fidelity to the wonder of each day" (Community and Growth, pg. 109).
i took mark to see ben folds and rufus wainwright in concert on friday night. it was a beautiful evening on the water and ben folds did not disappoint. however, much to my surprise, i found that i am not much of a rufus fan. like i said on jamie's blog i think he intones like randy travis and his diction is deplorable. all things equal, i'd rather see randy travis.
when i was in high school i told one of my history teachers, who turned out to be a dirty pedophile by the way, that "one day he would work for me." that might have been a little arrogant of me, especially since i am now quite interested in pursuing my teaching certification. i think i would like to teach high school english. in my mind, a successful high school english teacher needs to have a love of language, a desire walk with adolescents through the perilous process of identification and a studied disregard of authority and convention. assuming that this is true, i think i would make a decent teach. if all goes well, i will take my qualifying exams in the spring and start classes next summer.
in case you hadn't heard, on sunday david eckstein hit a walk-off grand slam in the ninth inning to propel the cardinals to victory. the last time that happened was on april 18, 1987, when my family decided to beat traffic by leaving the game a little bit early. that was a lesson learned.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
stuff that has been making me laugh:
caption reads: "Does this mean you're not ready to accept Christ as your personal Savior?"
i also received a bulk email from a loyal citizen of ghana who wanted me to "plant small seed" in his country so that i could "reap large fruit." he told me that his mother, his country's prime minister and the wrongfully deposed king would be forever grateful if i worked with him on this initiative. the solicitor's name: johnson asore. i shit you not. he received my name from a local pastor though, so he must be trustworthy.
caption reads: "Does this mean you're not ready to accept Christ as your personal Savior?"
i also received a bulk email from a loyal citizen of ghana who wanted me to "plant small seed" in his country so that i could "reap large fruit." he told me that his mother, his country's prime minister and the wrongfully deposed king would be forever grateful if i worked with him on this initiative. the solicitor's name: johnson asore. i shit you not. he received my name from a local pastor though, so he must be trustworthy.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
musing
on wednesday night i had the privilege of attending a wake for leanne's grandmother. as we stood in the spectacularly clean, softly lit viewing room, i was amazed by how many friends and family members had come to pay their respects, say a prayer and speak a kind word to leanne's family. there were so many people there that the funeral directors had removed a divider to accommodate more people. apparently, even that did not provide enough space for the visitors for people were scattered throughout the entire building, laughing and sharing, embracing and consoling one another. i was incredibly moved by the experience, for it was a living illustration of the beauty of a large, loving, deeply committed extended family.
though a bastard, God blessed me with the same type of family. i have had the privilege of being raised not only by my parents, but by two sets of grandparents and three sets of aunts and uncles. moreover, i don't have eight cousins so much as i have eight friends who i grew up fighting with, loving and protecting. i have also been blessed with a number of close family friends who i would not hesitate to lay my life down for and have little doubt that they would do the same for me. have i mentioned that i have a brother who i love so much that it hurts? have i mentioned that i grew up in a church that was full of people that believed in me when i did not believe in myself, loved me when i was by all accounts unlovable and pointed me towards my vocation when i was totally ignorant of God's call?
so on wednesday night, while i stood in that clean room that was lit by the love and warmth of family that I was reminded of the sacrifice that i have made. because the God of blessing has called me to be an instrument of His blessing to all people, i have left the warm, centrifugal center of my family and have been flung out to this far corner of the country to shed God's grace and Christ's compassion upon these people and the world. i am glad that i have responded to God's call, but i am not unaware of the cost.
i am not unaware of the cost. because i have sacrificed so much to be in new england, i better make my life count. initially, this line of reflection led me to focus on the desire to make a name for myself and adorn myself with individual accomplishments. but that is not what God is calling me to. instead, he is calling me to make my life count by being a part of a redemptive community that is incarnating His love and extending his compassion to the people in this particular place. at the end of my life i do not want to be known for something i have accomplished, but i want to be known as a part of the redemptive community that God has created in this place. life does not consist in the abundance of riches, Jesus teaches us, and i don't think life consists of lists of individual accomplishments either. rather, i think life is characterized by the goodness, beauty and truth of God that has been planted within us and the beautiful harvest of the field in which we have been planted.
on wednesday night i had the privilege of attending a wake for leanne's grandmother. as we stood in the spectacularly clean, softly lit viewing room, i was amazed by how many friends and family members had come to pay their respects, say a prayer and speak a kind word to leanne's family. there were so many people there that the funeral directors had removed a divider to accommodate more people. apparently, even that did not provide enough space for the visitors for people were scattered throughout the entire building, laughing and sharing, embracing and consoling one another. i was incredibly moved by the experience, for it was a living illustration of the beauty of a large, loving, deeply committed extended family.
though a bastard, God blessed me with the same type of family. i have had the privilege of being raised not only by my parents, but by two sets of grandparents and three sets of aunts and uncles. moreover, i don't have eight cousins so much as i have eight friends who i grew up fighting with, loving and protecting. i have also been blessed with a number of close family friends who i would not hesitate to lay my life down for and have little doubt that they would do the same for me. have i mentioned that i have a brother who i love so much that it hurts? have i mentioned that i grew up in a church that was full of people that believed in me when i did not believe in myself, loved me when i was by all accounts unlovable and pointed me towards my vocation when i was totally ignorant of God's call?
so on wednesday night, while i stood in that clean room that was lit by the love and warmth of family that I was reminded of the sacrifice that i have made. because the God of blessing has called me to be an instrument of His blessing to all people, i have left the warm, centrifugal center of my family and have been flung out to this far corner of the country to shed God's grace and Christ's compassion upon these people and the world. i am glad that i have responded to God's call, but i am not unaware of the cost.
i am not unaware of the cost. because i have sacrificed so much to be in new england, i better make my life count. initially, this line of reflection led me to focus on the desire to make a name for myself and adorn myself with individual accomplishments. but that is not what God is calling me to. instead, he is calling me to make my life count by being a part of a redemptive community that is incarnating His love and extending his compassion to the people in this particular place. at the end of my life i do not want to be known for something i have accomplished, but i want to be known as a part of the redemptive community that God has created in this place. life does not consist in the abundance of riches, Jesus teaches us, and i don't think life consists of lists of individual accomplishments either. rather, i think life is characterized by the goodness, beauty and truth of God that has been planted within us and the beautiful harvest of the field in which we have been planted.
Friday, July 29, 2005
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
“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
Thursday, July 28, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
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 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.
Friday, July 22, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
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
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
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
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.
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.
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