Stephen and I were in Escondido after I spoke at the leader's retreat and decided to stop at the mall. I was walking through the mall on my way to Pacific Sunwear because I was looking for a hat and passed a NOTW store. I had seen the logo around APU somewhere and thought that there might be some OneTruth clothing in there or Ezekiel or Jedediah hats or something that would be cool for a non-skater like me to get away with wearing. I turned into the store, which was empty except for three employees. I walked in and the thirtysomething employee at the corner yelled to me, "Hey man, what's going on?"
"Nothing much," I said.
"Cool. I'm Chad the Jesus Guy. Have you ever been in our store before?"
"Nope."
"Well our store is called C28. It's a verse in the book of Colossians that says we are not of this world. Colossians is in the Bible."
"Oh."
"Well just have a look around and let us know if we can help you. We have music over there, shirts, stickers, anything you can think of. And we have a clearance section in the back that has some great deals." (All the while he was saying this, he was taking my eyes on a tour around the room with rapid pointing. The tour was short because the room was only about as big as a garage. It wasn't like it was a Super WalMart or anything.)
A girl behind the counter spoke up. "What kind of music do you like?"
"Uhh, alternative, I guess."
"Cool. Have you ever heard of a group called Kutless?"
"Uhh, no."
"Well come here!" She probably would have grabbed my hand if I hadn't immediately started following her. I looked longingly over at the hats as we went past them. She took me to the back of the store next to a rack of CDs and underneath a half orb in front of a display with buttons and a screen on it. She punched in some buttons and from the orb came some music that was, indeed, alternative sounding, if there is a genre such as alternative that exists anymore. Just lots of guitars, basically.
"Do you like them?" she asked.
"I guess." I was kind of lying but didn't feel bad about it.
"We have all kinds of music here. If you can think of a secular band, we have a Christian band that's just like it. Like Eminem. We have a guy who raps and is white." And then she looked at me, kinda like I was supposed to be amazed.
I looked amazed and said, "Oh."
"Yeah. My name is Veronica and if you need anything, let me know!" Then she walked back towards the counter. I walked back that way to, but turned left toward the hats and finding none, turned to leave the store. Because the third employee (who I hadn't met) was counting inventory and blocking my immediate escape, I headed back towards the counter where Chad was messing with something and Veronica was standing ominously.
"Did you need help with anything?" Veronica asked.
"No, I'm cool."
"Oh. Well, we have Jedediah clothes too," she offered.
"Oh, yeah?" Which was kind of a lie because I had seen them earlier.
"Did you know it was started by Christians? The word comes from the Old Testament. And so does Ezekiel. That was started by Jews. The Jews follow the teaching in the Old Testament in the Bible. Do you have a Bible?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I haven't read it in awhile." Which was true.
"Oh, that's too bad. You should try to read it every morning. Even just 10 minutes in the morning makes such a big difference."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Do you go to church?"
"I haven't in a while." Which was also true. But I was kinda setting a trap. I just wanted to see what would happen next.
"That's too bad. Where do you live?"
"In Los Angeles."
"Oh, there are lots of good churches up there."
"Yeah, I know. I just haven't found a place that I feel like I fit."
"Well, be careful because there are a lot of bad churches too."
"Oh? How are they different?" This I knew was setting a trap but I was just too far into it now. I don't deliberately try to mislead people, but this Christian forced it out of me."
"Well, there are lots of churches that teach that any way to heaven is fine, but it's not. But there are some good ones, like Calvary Chapel . . ."
"Oh yeah?"
"Um-hmm. There is only one way to heaven. Jesus said that he was the way, the truth, and the life. And without him, you would go to hell. The Bible tells us a lot of different things, like about hell. Hell is just such a bad place. It's like eternal burning, like actual burning of flesh for all eternity! The other day I was tanning and I was like, 'It is getting so hot in here!' and then I realized that hell would be even hotter than that for all eternity! It is such a bad place I don't know why anyone would want to go there!"
"Yeah, that sounds pretty bad," I said. It really did. I haven't been in a tanning booth but I have been sunburnt and it's just hell trying to move when you are all crispy. "But what about people who don't have the chance to hear about Jesus, like there in another country or something."
"Well, let me find a verse. You said you had a Bible right?" she asked.
"Yeah. I have one."
"Okay. Umm, I don't remember where it is, I think Romans. But those people, like, people always ask questions, like, 'What is our purpose here?' and if you ask those questions you'll be responsible. Like, retarded people and babies won't be because they don't ask those questions, but everyone else asks those things and is responsible for their answer. So are you a Christian?"
"Uhhh. I guess so."
"You guess so? So you don't really know?"
"Well, I was when I was a kid."
"Oh yeah? Well, would you be interested in maybe rededicating your life right now?"
"No. Not right now." I really was supposed to meet back up with my brother but I just couldn't tell her that.
"Okay." Then she moved from out behind the counter. I knew that meant something but still don't know what. She was flipping through the Bible she had in her hand.
"I knew when you came in, God told me that you had fallen away and needed to come back. I only became a Christian, like, just under a year ago and my life has gotten so much better. Not that Christianity is about happiness, but you have joy."
"Oh."
"A year ago, I was in abusive relationships and was very depressed and even had a gun held to my head." This depressed me and made me want to hold her and tell her I was very sorry to hear that. But she didn't stop talking and I didn't want to interrupt so nothing came of my pity. "If you read the Bible, it helps so much. I have to get up at 4:00 in the morning so I can read for an hour before I go to school and then work and this morning I could only read for ten minutes and I wish that I could have read more and I know that I'm supposed to but there are times when you are just so tired and you have to fight that because it is so good to read it. The Bible says the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. And that's how it is; we just have to fight our flesh. If we don't, hell is the option we have. And it is such a bad place. I almost cry for people who have to go there, not out of pity, but out of love. Because that's what Jesus gives us. Do you want to recommit?"
"Maybe."
"Well this isn't a maybe decision. This is very important and will change the rest of your life. There will be times when your spirit is willing but the flesh will be weak. Here, let me get this card . . ." She went back behind the counter, pulled out a card and came back to in front of the counter. "If you want to pray this prayer," she said, pointing at the card, "well, you don't have to pray it word for word but in your heart. If you want, you can come back here and we'll pray with you or you can call or whatever. If you have any questions, just let me know!" She grabbed a pen and asked my name.
"Michael," I said.
She wrote my name in the front of the Bible and put the card in it and handed it to me. "Now, this Bible is only the New Testament, but it still has a lot of good stuff in it. Thank you so much and we hope to see you soon!"
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later." Which was the first true lie of the day for me. Then I left.
I walked next door to PacSun, found a hat, bought it and left. None of the three employees in there said anything to me. It was a successful trip.
3.01.2005
Real good time
Two Saturdays ago my brother and I went to a leader's retreat weekend where I was invited to speak. The students in my office were the ones who were hosting it, so it wasn't like it was the chance of a lifetime, but I was still honored that they asked me to speak at it. Especially after the last time I spoke. It just didn't go well. But they still asked me back.
I was nervous about it, mostly because I had spent a lot of time thinking about it and getting resources ready and just worrying about it. And I prayed for it too. I really wanted to be relevant. And by that, I mean I wanted God to use me. It's rare that that happens for me, but when it does, it's a real treat. Not in the generic sense of the word treat, like a treat for a dog. Like it's a real pleasure to be used like that .
Anyway, I spoke about the church's lackadaisical approach to perfection, saying we should settle for excellence instead. I don't think that's right. God says to be perfect as he is perfect. Which is impossible, so we rely on grace. But once we accept that we are not perfect, we can accept that others are not perfect either, which forces us to forgive. And then, community, which is by nature made of imperfect people, can be messy. It's designed that way.
It went really well. It was probably the best I have ever done. And I know God can use me even if I don't think it went well, but I got the praises of man this time, and that was what I needed. Oddly enough, I think God used this chance to not only be glorified for His purposes, He built up my ego a little and gave me confidence to continue speaking in public. Which is nice.
All that to say, God is God. I am not. I am eternally grateful that those things are true. And since God is God, life has meaning.
I was nervous about it, mostly because I had spent a lot of time thinking about it and getting resources ready and just worrying about it. And I prayed for it too. I really wanted to be relevant. And by that, I mean I wanted God to use me. It's rare that that happens for me, but when it does, it's a real treat. Not in the generic sense of the word treat, like a treat for a dog. Like it's a real pleasure to be used like that .
Anyway, I spoke about the church's lackadaisical approach to perfection, saying we should settle for excellence instead. I don't think that's right. God says to be perfect as he is perfect. Which is impossible, so we rely on grace. But once we accept that we are not perfect, we can accept that others are not perfect either, which forces us to forgive. And then, community, which is by nature made of imperfect people, can be messy. It's designed that way.
It went really well. It was probably the best I have ever done. And I know God can use me even if I don't think it went well, but I got the praises of man this time, and that was what I needed. Oddly enough, I think God used this chance to not only be glorified for His purposes, He built up my ego a little and gave me confidence to continue speaking in public. Which is nice.
All that to say, God is God. I am not. I am eternally grateful that those things are true. And since God is God, life has meaning.
2.11.2005
Oh yes indeed
And my brother is coming out next week. It might just be the highlight of February for me.
Life and nothing like it
Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America and to all the ships at sea. The following is free verse meaningness locked into traditional truth structures:
Twisted and falling created nature disturbs those sleeping after hours.
Nothing within everything can be found outside the context of hurt pride and bruised ego.
To seek knowledge, one must submit to the fairy tale of absolute emptiness and prepare to fill that which cannot be found to be lacking.
Without that, all is lost. All is lost. All is lost.
Not in an ethereal sense, which implies an impishness not commonly found among the shadows of everyday life, but in a bigger more turbulent way of saying things.
The bottom line can never be found unless someone admits that there was cause
to believe in something as silly as that.
I do not write enough; I cannot write enough.
Everything that is worth saying has been said
but the truth of art finds meaning in saying so much more
than any of this would imply.
Don't think a shattered lense doesn't hold meaning;
it is required to by the very thing that magnets us to earth.
A shattered lense holds meaning because it must.
Twisted and falling created nature disturbs those sleeping after hours.
Nothing within everything can be found outside the context of hurt pride and bruised ego.
To seek knowledge, one must submit to the fairy tale of absolute emptiness and prepare to fill that which cannot be found to be lacking.
Without that, all is lost. All is lost. All is lost.
Not in an ethereal sense, which implies an impishness not commonly found among the shadows of everyday life, but in a bigger more turbulent way of saying things.
The bottom line can never be found unless someone admits that there was cause
to believe in something as silly as that.
I do not write enough; I cannot write enough.
Everything that is worth saying has been said
but the truth of art finds meaning in saying so much more
than any of this would imply.
Don't think a shattered lense doesn't hold meaning;
it is required to by the very thing that magnets us to earth.
A shattered lense holds meaning because it must.
2.02.2005
I'm Still Alive
I'm not dead. Nothing happened with my heart. I mean, stuff happened and is currently happening, but they couldn't find anything wrong with me. They still haven't called me back with results from that monitor but I'm assuming that all is well. If nothing else, this whole experience has taught me that I'm a sissy.
Stephen is coming out in a few weeks. That should be rad. I like him a lot.
Becky is still getting married. That's nice.
I'm still working hard at work and trying to get stuff done there. My stress level is all over the place but that's what I get for being who I am. Don't ask about the theology of that one.
I'm excited for class next week. The book list is rad: Brian McClaren, Erwin McManus, Tony Jones, etc. It should be nice and postmodern. Whatever that means.
Secrest out.
Stephen is coming out in a few weeks. That should be rad. I like him a lot.
Becky is still getting married. That's nice.
I'm still working hard at work and trying to get stuff done there. My stress level is all over the place but that's what I get for being who I am. Don't ask about the theology of that one.
I'm excited for class next week. The book list is rad: Brian McClaren, Erwin McManus, Tony Jones, etc. It should be nice and postmodern. Whatever that means.
Secrest out.
1.20.2005
The theology of procrastination
So I'm supposed to be writing a theology paper. But clearly, I'm not. I'm focusing on the "right" of God to be a judge and it's a pretty rough topic. But I am better understanding the depths of his love, which is odd considering I'm studying hell. Why do people go to hell if He is a loving God? Because He's a loving God. He gives us the right to deny him now and forever and if that's not love, to be consistently denied by your own creation, I don't know what is. It's like waking up each morning, letting your wife cheat on you because she has chosen to and repeating the process for all eternity. It blows me away that God loves us that much.
Update on the heart: I'm still not dead.
Update on my weight: Still too high, but I'm gonna try a circuit training thing they have at the local junior college.
Update on my wife: Very busy with school, still loves me. I think. We've been kinda snotty to each other lately. It'll pass. We love each other too much to let it stay with us for too much longer.
Update on my dog: Still smaller than me.
Update on my family: Still Schoons.
Update on my friends: Still drunk. Ever since the trampoline thing, life just hasn't been the same.
That's my take, and I'm not taking it back.
Update on the heart: I'm still not dead.
Update on my weight: Still too high, but I'm gonna try a circuit training thing they have at the local junior college.
Update on my wife: Very busy with school, still loves me. I think. We've been kinda snotty to each other lately. It'll pass. We love each other too much to let it stay with us for too much longer.
Update on my dog: Still smaller than me.
Update on my family: Still Schoons.
Update on my friends: Still drunk. Ever since the trampoline thing, life just hasn't been the same.
That's my take, and I'm not taking it back.
1.12.2005
2 + 2 = 5
Here is a combination of things that don't work out:
Heart monitor
Explosive diarrhea
Nausea
Stress related to a desire to not throw up
In case you ever need to stay up all night, just mix these things together and try to sleep.
Heart monitor
Explosive diarrhea
Nausea
Stress related to a desire to not throw up
In case you ever need to stay up all night, just mix these things together and try to sleep.
1.11.2005
I might be dying
In the figurative sense, we all are. But something's going down with old ticker and it's odd.
Last Thursday I woke up and my heart was beating like I had just finished two cups of coffee. But I hadn't. So I went about my day and finally, after my wife got home from AZ, she listened to it and said, "yeah, something is going on here." She's smart like that. But I was very scared. Because it was my heart. If I was just excessively gassy, that wouldn't be anything. But my heart! The last line of defense separating the living from the dead. The only thing spreading vitamins and energy and oxygen and caramel to my organs. It's scary.
So I went to the doctor and they ran some tests on me. They drew some blood and took an EKG of me. Funny story with the EKG: The lady tells me to take of my shirt and then she leaves, but she leaves the door open. Not being a stickler for modesty, I start stripping, and about when my shirt is over my head, another nurse walks by and yells, "Why are you getting naked? What are you doing? Why is the door open?" Not having a satisfactory answer to all three, I said, "Taking off my shirt." She was more confused by this and grabbed my chart looked at it and said, "Oh, an EKG." I said, "Yes." And she started closing the door and said, "Why was the door open?" And I said, feeling blamed for the whole incident, "I didn't know any better." Which was true, because I'm certainly not the professional paid to protect privacy, I'm the chump who assumes that open doors are policy at Foothill Health Care Partners' facilities. All that to say, they hooked me up to a machine that said I was fine.
But I wasn't. The doctor listened to my heart and asked some questions (including "Any substance abuse?" three times in a row, like he could convince me that I had been using narcotics) and then decided to hook me up to a 24-hr monitor for my heart and check my thyroid somethings. So right now, I'm hooked up to the monitor and clicking buttons on it when I feel something gurgle and waiting for A) my heart to explode from the excitement, B) nothing, or C) the doctor to yell at me for my indecency and substance abuse.
Just a thought.
Last Thursday I woke up and my heart was beating like I had just finished two cups of coffee. But I hadn't. So I went about my day and finally, after my wife got home from AZ, she listened to it and said, "yeah, something is going on here." She's smart like that. But I was very scared. Because it was my heart. If I was just excessively gassy, that wouldn't be anything. But my heart! The last line of defense separating the living from the dead. The only thing spreading vitamins and energy and oxygen and caramel to my organs. It's scary.
So I went to the doctor and they ran some tests on me. They drew some blood and took an EKG of me. Funny story with the EKG: The lady tells me to take of my shirt and then she leaves, but she leaves the door open. Not being a stickler for modesty, I start stripping, and about when my shirt is over my head, another nurse walks by and yells, "Why are you getting naked? What are you doing? Why is the door open?" Not having a satisfactory answer to all three, I said, "Taking off my shirt." She was more confused by this and grabbed my chart looked at it and said, "Oh, an EKG." I said, "Yes." And she started closing the door and said, "Why was the door open?" And I said, feeling blamed for the whole incident, "I didn't know any better." Which was true, because I'm certainly not the professional paid to protect privacy, I'm the chump who assumes that open doors are policy at Foothill Health Care Partners' facilities. All that to say, they hooked me up to a machine that said I was fine.
But I wasn't. The doctor listened to my heart and asked some questions (including "Any substance abuse?" three times in a row, like he could convince me that I had been using narcotics) and then decided to hook me up to a 24-hr monitor for my heart and check my thyroid somethings. So right now, I'm hooked up to the monitor and clicking buttons on it when I feel something gurgle and waiting for A) my heart to explode from the excitement, B) nothing, or C) the doctor to yell at me for my indecency and substance abuse.
Just a thought.
1.04.2005
Blame it on the Tetons
I'm listening to Modest Mouse now. They just have a good sound.
Work is boring and everyone I work with is nuts. Tomorrow we're going to see Hotel Rwanda, but it's in LA, so we have to leave at 9:30, but we're going to breakfast first so we have to meet at Flappy Jacks at 8:15. The point is, the first email about the movie was sent just under a month ago and the day before the event we have had approximately 3000 different emails changing details. Oops, just got another email confirming tomorrow's plans. Sigh.
Chris Seals went to Missouri to visit a friend. His parents bought a house in Las Vegas and paid cash for it.
My wife is in Phoenix still. We talked twice yesterday. It was unfulfilling.
Time to feed the Beast.
Work is boring and everyone I work with is nuts. Tomorrow we're going to see Hotel Rwanda, but it's in LA, so we have to leave at 9:30, but we're going to breakfast first so we have to meet at Flappy Jacks at 8:15. The point is, the first email about the movie was sent just under a month ago and the day before the event we have had approximately 3000 different emails changing details. Oops, just got another email confirming tomorrow's plans. Sigh.
Chris Seals went to Missouri to visit a friend. His parents bought a house in Las Vegas and paid cash for it.
My wife is in Phoenix still. We talked twice yesterday. It was unfulfilling.
Time to feed the Beast.
1.03.2005
Nappy Yew Hear
I'm not funny. But here's the deal:
I'm playing a game called the Chronicles of Riddick and I'm saddened at how involved with the game I am. I actually feel like I'm inside the game while I'm playing. Makes me scared. The game, that is, not the fact that the lines between reality and fiction have been eerily erased. No, just the fact that I have a physiological response to this game and that I interact with it scares me. It's different than being scared in a movie. Imagine that you can control a character in a movie. There is an emotional connection, no matter how faint, and that can end up controlling you instead. The point is, whoever says media doesn't control us is lying. They are big fat liars.
My wife is in Arizona right now and I'm not. That's cute. She is having fun with her family while I waste away on the couch. My own doing I'm sure.
We got a new car. The Pontiac sold to the transmission guy in western Phoenix for $300 and we are now driving a Camry. Good times and probably more reliable. We really enjoy it and I'm looking forward to having fun with it.
Not a lot else is happening. The work days melt by like stones in the cold and I'm tired from the lack of happenings. Oh well.
Peace.
I'm playing a game called the Chronicles of Riddick and I'm saddened at how involved with the game I am. I actually feel like I'm inside the game while I'm playing. Makes me scared. The game, that is, not the fact that the lines between reality and fiction have been eerily erased. No, just the fact that I have a physiological response to this game and that I interact with it scares me. It's different than being scared in a movie. Imagine that you can control a character in a movie. There is an emotional connection, no matter how faint, and that can end up controlling you instead. The point is, whoever says media doesn't control us is lying. They are big fat liars.
My wife is in Arizona right now and I'm not. That's cute. She is having fun with her family while I waste away on the couch. My own doing I'm sure.
We got a new car. The Pontiac sold to the transmission guy in western Phoenix for $300 and we are now driving a Camry. Good times and probably more reliable. We really enjoy it and I'm looking forward to having fun with it.
Not a lot else is happening. The work days melt by like stones in the cold and I'm tired from the lack of happenings. Oh well.
Peace.
12.11.2004
Another weekend
The car is still in Buckeye, AZ. Someday soon I plan on knowing what's going on with it.
I am pretty sure I'd rather be asleep today. I just think that today should go back to where it came from and leave me be. That's all I got for anybody.
Lates.
I am pretty sure I'd rather be asleep today. I just think that today should go back to where it came from and leave me be. That's all I got for anybody.
Lates.
12.09.2004
CentraCal
This just in, I hate Sacramento. Maybe not hate. Oh wait, yes I do. I just spent the past 72 hours on a whirlwind tour of Sacramento and Fresno and I might be fighting the whole area. It's flat, boring, and large cities are focused around industrial complexes. Maybe just Bakersfield on that last part, but seriously, why do people live in the places they do up there? Giant houses less than 20 yards from freeways, giant houses 6 feet apart, small houses in the middle of fields, etc, etc, etc.
Forgive me Central California, for I harbor ill will towards you. If only you were more like Oregon, or San Francisco, or LA, maybe people would like you more. Not just for your cheap housing and general proximity to nicer places, but for you, in all of your farming glory and flat land. I worry for you CentraCal, because I don't think you know the difference. I think you're so consumed with making friends you don't realize they don't really like you, they just like that you get them closer to the really cool cities.
It's just something to think about. Maybe you should get a real sports team or some technological center or some mountains or something. Then you would be liked for your possessions at least and not your placement in the social structure. Just a thought.
Forgive me Central California, for I harbor ill will towards you. If only you were more like Oregon, or San Francisco, or LA, maybe people would like you more. Not just for your cheap housing and general proximity to nicer places, but for you, in all of your farming glory and flat land. I worry for you CentraCal, because I don't think you know the difference. I think you're so consumed with making friends you don't realize they don't really like you, they just like that you get them closer to the really cool cities.
It's just something to think about. Maybe you should get a real sports team or some technological center or some mountains or something. Then you would be liked for your possessions at least and not your placement in the social structure. Just a thought.
12.06.2004
God is a woman
So we're sitting in class right now and have spent 2 hours talking about the gender of God. And here's what it boils down to: male and female are human terms describing gender. According to Deuteronomy 4:15, God cannot be duplicated in image, including male or female. So the Bible speaks in metaphor when describing God as a Father or a Son, just as it does when it says Jesus is a Lamb.
That's my class. Seriously requiring all my mental capacity.
That's my class. Seriously requiring all my mental capacity.
12.04.2004
Fidel in the army get-up
The title comes from some friends in high school. They saw a guy named Fidel wearing some camo or something and said, "And there's Fidel in the army get-up." They thought it was very funny. I didn't, but I did like the phrase. It's one of those things that's funnier out of context.
We went to a show last night. Chris Seals and his band Crescent Drive played at a bar in Whittier. They really have a good sound and it was nice to get away from the Azusa/Glendora sphere of influence. There's a lot of drama going on with most of my friends right now. Everybody either is self-medicating, falling in love, falling out of love, or finding that they aren't exactly what they want to be. It's very interesting to see, but only because it's not me. I know there is purpose behind it, and Wayne says they're going through it because victory is near. Victory to me means something different than it does to him, so I let it slide.
I am supposed to be working on a bibliography for my theology class. I don't have a topic yet so that's a hard thing to do. So I pray about it and hope that before tomorrow night something piques my interest. We'll see. It should be easy to find a topic about God and mankind that I could write about, but I want to get a lot out of it, and that means it must mean a lot to me before I can invest myself, and I don't know what about God I want to know more about. Uggh. Faith is complicated if I let it be.
Time to make the donuts. Secrest out.
We went to a show last night. Chris Seals and his band Crescent Drive played at a bar in Whittier. They really have a good sound and it was nice to get away from the Azusa/Glendora sphere of influence. There's a lot of drama going on with most of my friends right now. Everybody either is self-medicating, falling in love, falling out of love, or finding that they aren't exactly what they want to be. It's very interesting to see, but only because it's not me. I know there is purpose behind it, and Wayne says they're going through it because victory is near. Victory to me means something different than it does to him, so I let it slide.
I am supposed to be working on a bibliography for my theology class. I don't have a topic yet so that's a hard thing to do. So I pray about it and hope that before tomorrow night something piques my interest. We'll see. It should be easy to find a topic about God and mankind that I could write about, but I want to get a lot out of it, and that means it must mean a lot to me before I can invest myself, and I don't know what about God I want to know more about. Uggh. Faith is complicated if I let it be.
Time to make the donuts. Secrest out.
12.02.2004
Franz and the others
Tonight was a good night. I think that tonight, for the first time, I've enjoyed the company of someone. Which is entirely odd because I've been around a good many people, but tonight it was just like I was enjoying God in my presence and someone else, too. It's weird and I don't know if I can put it into words but here goes:
I'm sitting on the couch reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. It's an incredible book that details this guy's journey with Christianity. I really like the way he writes, super easy to read. Anyway, so I'm sitting there reading and I feel like I should be getting up and getting some music together and going outside to talk to God. But I don't. Danielle is sitting on the other couch, just doing homework and the Franz Ferdinand CD is playing. I just sit there and keep on reading.
I'm usually such a private person that any spiritual experience I have I like to go figure it out and work it out vocally by myself. I really enjoy being alone and talking with God about my thoughts. Not a lot of people on this planet understand them or care, for that matter. But God really does. And that is pretty rad. And the best way I know how to talk to him is alone while I'm listening to music. Or not, sometimes. The point is, I really enjoy my alone time because I can withdraw.
But tonight, I really enjoyed just sitting there reading. The concepts in the book were things that normally would have caused me to jump up and run away from people, but tonight I just sat there, listening to Franz and looking at my wife read her thick nursing book. It was incredible. I just felt that God was there, somehow, just enjoying us, too.
Maybe that's how he operates. When we do things that bring us joy, he wants nothing more than for us to see that it was him who allowed for the moment to happen. And for that, I'm grateful to him. Because tonight was really cool. Thank you God, for letting me listen to music and read about faith and sit with my wife and God. You make good times. Good times. Love you, bye.
I'm sitting on the couch reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. It's an incredible book that details this guy's journey with Christianity. I really like the way he writes, super easy to read. Anyway, so I'm sitting there reading and I feel like I should be getting up and getting some music together and going outside to talk to God. But I don't. Danielle is sitting on the other couch, just doing homework and the Franz Ferdinand CD is playing. I just sit there and keep on reading.
I'm usually such a private person that any spiritual experience I have I like to go figure it out and work it out vocally by myself. I really enjoy being alone and talking with God about my thoughts. Not a lot of people on this planet understand them or care, for that matter. But God really does. And that is pretty rad. And the best way I know how to talk to him is alone while I'm listening to music. Or not, sometimes. The point is, I really enjoy my alone time because I can withdraw.
But tonight, I really enjoyed just sitting there reading. The concepts in the book were things that normally would have caused me to jump up and run away from people, but tonight I just sat there, listening to Franz and looking at my wife read her thick nursing book. It was incredible. I just felt that God was there, somehow, just enjoying us, too.
Maybe that's how he operates. When we do things that bring us joy, he wants nothing more than for us to see that it was him who allowed for the moment to happen. And for that, I'm grateful to him. Because tonight was really cool. Thank you God, for letting me listen to music and read about faith and sit with my wife and God. You make good times. Good times. Love you, bye.
11.30.2004
Now who's laughing?
I'm back in California, my car is in Buckeye, Arizona, and I'm still at work. Good times. Tonight I should be finishing my movie and I'm excited about that. It's about selling God. I'm fascinated by the fact that millions of dollars are spent each year on things that feature the image of Christ. It's disgusting to see all the stuff that's out there and saddening to know that people are buying it. And why, I don't know.
If people buy the stuff to evangelize, I question their faith system. If your faith can be described on one article of clothing, say, a belt buckle, it's far too simple. If people buy the stuff to notify others of their beliefs, I question their motives. What makes you assume that people care what you faith you hold? Heaven forbid they see your actions and interact with you and find out that way! Oh, no, it's much better to advertise. If people buy the crap because they want to fit in, I question their self-esteem. Does the Christian ghetto protect you, or coerce you to fit in? So the one place you should feel accepted you instead feel judged. If people buy the Jesus junk to support the Church, I question their sensibility.
People, not God, are making money on this crap. People, not God, are receiving income by targeting Christians and marketing products towards them. And surely no one believes that a large percentage of the profits go towards Christians who spend them wisely. Let's take the belt-buckle. It costs $5. Here are all the places I can imagine the money being taken away by non-Christians who are unconcerned with the goings-on of the church: the mine for the metal, the truck driver, the ore processor, the shipper, the machine manufacturer who stamps the buckle, the owner of the building, the electric company, the laser-etcher designer, the blah-blah-blah. The point is, if you want to support the Church, give to it, not a shop owner.
I think what bothers me a lot is the blatant ripping-off of pop culture. Since pants have been around, people have needed a way to keep them up, and a belt with a buckle has done well. Why do we insist on slapping the image of Christ on one? Why don't we invent a better way to hold up pants instead of making money off God? At least then we'd be creating and God might be blessed that we are reflecting in a tiny way the creativity of God.
A note to those who make Jesus junk: If you do this to make money, good job. If you do this to pay bills, good job. It is the American way, after all. Who can blame you? You found a great niche market (the Christian:probably rich, probably wants more stuff) and are capitalizing on it. Nicely done. If you do this to evangelize, you are missing the point. Jesus died for a world that is painfully lost and confused and came back to life to give that world hope. He didn't die so you could put his smiling face on a pen. Oh, I know you have good intentions. You have to get by and make ends meet. But don't you dare turn God into your dollar sign. He doesn't need product placement. He doesn't need your endorsement. He doesn't need anything.
He wants you to love your neighbor more than you love anything else but Him. He wants you to love Him more than anything else. And He wants the same for me. So pray for me, and I'll pray for you. That's what He wants, anyway.
If people buy the stuff to evangelize, I question their faith system. If your faith can be described on one article of clothing, say, a belt buckle, it's far too simple. If people buy the stuff to notify others of their beliefs, I question their motives. What makes you assume that people care what you faith you hold? Heaven forbid they see your actions and interact with you and find out that way! Oh, no, it's much better to advertise. If people buy the crap because they want to fit in, I question their self-esteem. Does the Christian ghetto protect you, or coerce you to fit in? So the one place you should feel accepted you instead feel judged. If people buy the Jesus junk to support the Church, I question their sensibility.
People, not God, are making money on this crap. People, not God, are receiving income by targeting Christians and marketing products towards them. And surely no one believes that a large percentage of the profits go towards Christians who spend them wisely. Let's take the belt-buckle. It costs $5. Here are all the places I can imagine the money being taken away by non-Christians who are unconcerned with the goings-on of the church: the mine for the metal, the truck driver, the ore processor, the shipper, the machine manufacturer who stamps the buckle, the owner of the building, the electric company, the laser-etcher designer, the blah-blah-blah. The point is, if you want to support the Church, give to it, not a shop owner.
I think what bothers me a lot is the blatant ripping-off of pop culture. Since pants have been around, people have needed a way to keep them up, and a belt with a buckle has done well. Why do we insist on slapping the image of Christ on one? Why don't we invent a better way to hold up pants instead of making money off God? At least then we'd be creating and God might be blessed that we are reflecting in a tiny way the creativity of God.
A note to those who make Jesus junk: If you do this to make money, good job. If you do this to pay bills, good job. It is the American way, after all. Who can blame you? You found a great niche market (the Christian:probably rich, probably wants more stuff) and are capitalizing on it. Nicely done. If you do this to evangelize, you are missing the point. Jesus died for a world that is painfully lost and confused and came back to life to give that world hope. He didn't die so you could put his smiling face on a pen. Oh, I know you have good intentions. You have to get by and make ends meet. But don't you dare turn God into your dollar sign. He doesn't need product placement. He doesn't need your endorsement. He doesn't need anything.
He wants you to love your neighbor more than you love anything else but Him. He wants you to love Him more than anything else. And He wants the same for me. So pray for me, and I'll pray for you. That's what He wants, anyway.
11.27.2004
Pick up the receiver, I'll make you a believer
I'm editing a movie right now and having fun with it. Someday, I'll be done with it. Peace and love.
11.25.2004
Happy Turkey Day, suckers
I'm in Phoenix now. And I ate a lot of food. A lot of food. "Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."
God is incredible. The book I'm reading now is trying to describe his attributes and characteristics and how they have been both perceived and defined by 2000 years of theologians. The more I read about their thoughts, the more I'm convinced of the mystery of God. How can finite beings define the infinite? We run out of words. But it's still cool to read how others have tried. It's my prayer that someday I will touch his robe and better understand his power, his might, and his infinitude. We can't even begin to wrap our minds around the concept of him, let alone he in his whole. It blows me away.
Love and peace forever.
God is incredible. The book I'm reading now is trying to describe his attributes and characteristics and how they have been both perceived and defined by 2000 years of theologians. The more I read about their thoughts, the more I'm convinced of the mystery of God. How can finite beings define the infinite? We run out of words. But it's still cool to read how others have tried. It's my prayer that someday I will touch his robe and better understand his power, his might, and his infinitude. We can't even begin to wrap our minds around the concept of him, let alone he in his whole. It blows me away.
Love and peace forever.
11.23.2004
I hate travel
This morning I left my hotel in ATL at 8:15 AM EST. I arrived at ONT airport at 7:15 PM PST. For those counting, that's one long day for a trip that was supposed to take 6 hours. I've been to San Antonio (unscheduled) to refuel while we waited for a storm to pass Dallas, I've missed three flights and one party with my wife, eaten three bags of pretzels, one double cheeseburger, rerouted once, and had my bags delivered to an airport 40 miles from where I ended up. Oh, and one of my carry-ons either stayed on the plane and went to Kansas City or is floating around the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport. I've chalked it up as lost. Good times.
Earlier today, in an airport, we had to walk through a whole company of Army soldiers as they were waiting for their flights home for Thanksgiving. I almost started crying by the time we had waded through hundreds of them, all dressed in their desert camos. They were just so young, and I never thought I would ever be that guy saying "they looked like kids!" One of them was reading a comic book for cats' sake. I wonder if any of them realized that this might be their last time home.
I know they all signed up for it, and I guess that is the strength of a volunteer military: everyone knows what they're in for. But I felt like if even one of them dies overseas, then we've all done something wrong. Don't misunderstand me: Evil must be stopped. But why does it have to be our people who die? Can't it just be the other guys'? Can't the airport in Baghdad be full of Iraqis who want to die? Or the airport in Darfur? Or Karthoum? Can't anyone else die besides my countrymen?
Yes, theirs is the greatest sacrifice of all. And they have willingly given their efforts, time, and the rights to their free will so that I can be free. I absolutely support our troops. I'm just scared that they might have to give their lives to something they don't understand, that I don't understand, and that the people they are killing don't understand.
What should we do? Beats me. I saw some people in an airport and got sad. That's the best I can do right now: try to empathize. And pray like crazy that the redemptive power of love overwhelms this world we live in.
Earlier today, in an airport, we had to walk through a whole company of Army soldiers as they were waiting for their flights home for Thanksgiving. I almost started crying by the time we had waded through hundreds of them, all dressed in their desert camos. They were just so young, and I never thought I would ever be that guy saying "they looked like kids!" One of them was reading a comic book for cats' sake. I wonder if any of them realized that this might be their last time home.
I know they all signed up for it, and I guess that is the strength of a volunteer military: everyone knows what they're in for. But I felt like if even one of them dies overseas, then we've all done something wrong. Don't misunderstand me: Evil must be stopped. But why does it have to be our people who die? Can't it just be the other guys'? Can't the airport in Baghdad be full of Iraqis who want to die? Or the airport in Darfur? Or Karthoum? Can't anyone else die besides my countrymen?
Yes, theirs is the greatest sacrifice of all. And they have willingly given their efforts, time, and the rights to their free will so that I can be free. I absolutely support our troops. I'm just scared that they might have to give their lives to something they don't understand, that I don't understand, and that the people they are killing don't understand.
What should we do? Beats me. I saw some people in an airport and got sad. That's the best I can do right now: try to empathize. And pray like crazy that the redemptive power of love overwhelms this world we live in.
11.22.2004
Still more south
YS just finished. That's good. Mostly because I get to see my wife again. She is pretty friggin incredible. Right now she's in class after spending all morning putting in time for her clinical at a local hospital. I really admire her for that. Not a lot of people have the amount of care she has for people and I'm really excited for her to be able to get into a career that suits her so well. Nursing, that is. Good times.
We beat Halo 2 yesterday morning. Disappointing ending but in the age of marketing you've got to leave people wanting more. We had the Xbox hooked up to the projector for our display, took down the mirror on the hotel room wall, and played actual size Halo. That was pretty rad.
Not much else is here. I'm getting fat and that makes me sad. I really don't want to die of congestive heart failure and right now I feel like my heart is just trying to keep its head above the grease I've drowned it in.
I'm not sure most people think about death as much as I do. I've never really asked anyone because you sound like a nutjob if you do ask. But maybe that's my answer: it's abnormal to think about death. I guess mankind has always had questions about it and some would argue religion came out of those questions. It's just a weird thing that the molecules and atoms and cells in our bodies eventually quit. I don't know what that's like and that's scary. I do find comfort in my faith, but there is a lot of unknown there and with that much unknown, it can unnerve me if I think about it too much.
And American culture is not too tolerant of death, either. We put our dying into nice clean rooms where we can visit them if we want to but not if we don't. And we make them look alive at their funerals so we can remember them as alive and not dead (as though there is something wrong with being dead). We say, "at least he went quickly" or "she went quietly while she was asleep" but the rest of our lives we are praised for avoiding death or escaping it miraculously. How many times are we reminded to eat healthy or exercise or not drink or be safe in a lifetime? But then we're supposed to go quickly and painlessly when "our time comes?" That's odd. It's as though there is some point when we should embrace this thing which we've spent every minute trying to get away from.
Humans are nuts.
It's okay to be sad and grieve but don't always talk about it because that's just crazy talk. "Focus on life, not death." Okay. Which part of life should I focus on, the part that makes me live longer or the part that kills me slowly? Should I eat healthy and avoid food high in fats, sodiums, sugars, and too much potassium (because that could kill me, too)? Should I avoid driving on the freeways and walking beneath high buildings and using a cell phone (because of the radiation, idiot)? Or should I "just be aware of the risk" of terrorism and robbers and burglers and rapists so I can sleep better at night (but not too much sleep or then I'm just lazy)? Whatever.
I'm going to think about death because it bothers me and I'm going to try and live as long as I can so I can eat more food and play more video games and spend more time with my wife and dog. I'm going to exercise if I feel like it and buy baggy clothes and drive fast and not care about my life because I've already given it to Someone else. I'm sick and tired of trying to prolong a boring life. I want Him to have it all and if I die I'll see Him sooner than I thought I would and if I'm alive then I still need to experience something else.
Maybe it's just me.
We beat Halo 2 yesterday morning. Disappointing ending but in the age of marketing you've got to leave people wanting more. We had the Xbox hooked up to the projector for our display, took down the mirror on the hotel room wall, and played actual size Halo. That was pretty rad.
Not much else is here. I'm getting fat and that makes me sad. I really don't want to die of congestive heart failure and right now I feel like my heart is just trying to keep its head above the grease I've drowned it in.
I'm not sure most people think about death as much as I do. I've never really asked anyone because you sound like a nutjob if you do ask. But maybe that's my answer: it's abnormal to think about death. I guess mankind has always had questions about it and some would argue religion came out of those questions. It's just a weird thing that the molecules and atoms and cells in our bodies eventually quit. I don't know what that's like and that's scary. I do find comfort in my faith, but there is a lot of unknown there and with that much unknown, it can unnerve me if I think about it too much.
And American culture is not too tolerant of death, either. We put our dying into nice clean rooms where we can visit them if we want to but not if we don't. And we make them look alive at their funerals so we can remember them as alive and not dead (as though there is something wrong with being dead). We say, "at least he went quickly" or "she went quietly while she was asleep" but the rest of our lives we are praised for avoiding death or escaping it miraculously. How many times are we reminded to eat healthy or exercise or not drink or be safe in a lifetime? But then we're supposed to go quickly and painlessly when "our time comes?" That's odd. It's as though there is some point when we should embrace this thing which we've spent every minute trying to get away from.
Humans are nuts.
It's okay to be sad and grieve but don't always talk about it because that's just crazy talk. "Focus on life, not death." Okay. Which part of life should I focus on, the part that makes me live longer or the part that kills me slowly? Should I eat healthy and avoid food high in fats, sodiums, sugars, and too much potassium (because that could kill me, too)? Should I avoid driving on the freeways and walking beneath high buildings and using a cell phone (because of the radiation, idiot)? Or should I "just be aware of the risk" of terrorism and robbers and burglers and rapists so I can sleep better at night (but not too much sleep or then I'm just lazy)? Whatever.
I'm going to think about death because it bothers me and I'm going to try and live as long as I can so I can eat more food and play more video games and spend more time with my wife and dog. I'm going to exercise if I feel like it and buy baggy clothes and drive fast and not care about my life because I've already given it to Someone else. I'm sick and tired of trying to prolong a boring life. I want Him to have it all and if I die I'll see Him sooner than I thought I would and if I'm alive then I still need to experience something else.
Maybe it's just me.
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