OMG, today I visited the most breathtaking library I have ever seen. Now ordinarily the words, "breathtaking" and "library" don't go together, but the Seattle Library's Central Library is no ordinary library. First of all, the building itself is an architectural wonder (see images here). It seems far to beautiful for something as utilitarian as a library, and maybe that's the point.
Airports terminals are known as places where the architecture makes a grand, sweeping statement about the aesthetics of a place (see Kansai International, for example), because for visitors, it's the first thing they see upon arrival. However, I think an argument could be made for the idea that a city's main library can (and should) also make a statement.
Anyway, back to the Seattle Central Library. This thing must be experienced to be understood. It's not just a building with books, it's a carefully thought through, purposefully designed space where form closely follows function.
For example, the dewey decimal system numbers that correspond to the books on the shelves are printed in large block text on the floor tiles adjacent to the shelves themselves (see here). These numbers ramp up (literally...I'll get to that in a second) sequentially, so there's no hunting around trying to find the 700s or the 200s. The floors are linked by a ramp that winds its way around the library so you're never at a loss as to how to find the book you're looking for. This is quite unlike most libraries I've been to where at the end of one shelf you find books in the 300s but the 400s are in another wing entirely. Genius.
There are lots of tables and very comfortable chairs. There's also free wi-fi, a feature that no library should be without. Also, the tables have power strips conveniently located on the table top - no more searching for outlets on the floor.
I know it'll sound like I'm resorting to hyperbole here, but it really does feel like sacred space. Information is one of God's great gifts to us and this library certainly highlights that fact (intentionally or not).
Oh, and behind the scenes is an amazing automated system of conveyer belts that mechanically sorts books through the use of RFID tags (basically tiny transmitters). There's a little kiosk near the desk where you sign up for a library card that tells you all about it. They're justifiably proud of their system because it's kick-ass, geek-out technology.
One last bit about the library, it's not a place for acrophobia (fear of heights) sufferers. The exterior walls are made of glass (the steel, load bearing beams are on the interior) and because the library has been designed with lots of open space, it's just about impossible to not be aware of how high up you are. I don't think I'm afraid of heights (never had that problem before) but there were parts of the library that left me feeling a bit woozy.
All that to say, if you visit Seattle, make it a point to check out the library. Now to most, that probably sounds as stupid as saying, be sure to visit the dentist, but this is not just a library. It's an experience. Even if you don't like to read, it's fascinating to walk through an architectural space quite unlike any other.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Sunday, October 08, 2006
229. these dreams
Call it the unbridled optimism of one who finds himself in a new land (I imagine the gold rush settlers felt the same), but as I look to begin my job search in earnest next week, I feel like I'm embarking on an adventure where the outcome is as limitless as it is unknown. A part of me sees this as an opportunity to reinvent myself, to take on the grand challenges that God has created me to tackle, to become who I was always meant to be.
I just wish I knew what that looked like.
"What would you want it to look like?"
Well first of all, I'd like my band to be a success and to me that means, at the very least, the ability to support ourselves through playing music alone. Basically, that means making enough through the band that I don't need to have a "regular" job to pay the bills. At the extreme end of the dream is global musical domination where we get to tour the world playing for sold out audiences.
This dream, in its most sublime expression, would include an episode where I go out on a date with Paris Hilton. On this date, I would point out how sad and shallow her public persona is. She is so taken by this critique that she renounces her Hilton inheritance, moves to Calcutta and takes up where Mother Theresa left off.
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
Yeah, I'd also like to be a bestselling short story writer.
I've actually taken my first baby steps in this direction (see blog 221), and to add to this, I just purchased a very simple book about how to break into the publishing industry. It's just a primer on the very basics (like those ____ for Dummies books) but since I have absolutely no knowledge of the industry whatsoever, I'm finding it fascinating. Once I make it through this book, I plan on picking up the 2007 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market (if it's out).
"So you picked up a book on publishing. Big deal."
Yeah, maybe, but there's more to it than that. See, I'm not big on confidence. I was talking with an artist friend of mine recently and he talked about how on the surface he's full of bravado and daring when it comes to his work but deep down inside, there's a part of him that wonders if he has what it takes to follow through.
I told him I was the complete opposite of that.
On the surface, I think my writing is only worth reading for free on blogs like this one (see blog 206). Why would anyone pay to read my prosaic rants or my meandering short stories? But buried deep beneath this self-effacement is a tiny brain cell that thinks I actually have something to say - that the powerful play goes on, and I will contribute a verse (apologies to Walt Whitman).
Normally, buying even a simple book on publishing would be impossible for me because the surface insecurity would tell me it was futile. But today, that tiny brain cell asserted itself and I brought that book home with me.
Funny thing about the brain. It's always making new connections. Computer engineers working in the field of artificial intelligence might say that the neural networks in our brains are massively parallel - that we process things simultaneously rather than sequentially. Our brain can operate this way because of the new connections that are created (and which multiply geometrically) when we learn something new.
Now that my little brain cell of literary belief is firing away, who knows where that will take me.
Another case in point. Today I made my final shopping decisions at IKEA. Turns out I'm going to be spending almost twice as much on my desk and my chair (where I plan to do most of my writing) as I will on my bed frame and mattress. This was a deliberate move on my part - a way to tell myself that I'm serious about giving this writing thing a go.
There are some people out there who compensate for their insecurities by talking themselves up, by overselling themselves. These are the kinds of people who end up as incompetent upper management types. In contrast, I acquiesce to my insecurities by not putting myself out there.
But not any more.
I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into Jack Nicholas' character in the (excellent) movie "As Good As It Gets," but I am dipping my little toe into the pool of possibilities. And the water seems nice and warm.
"Yeah, and teeming with sharks."
Well then I'll be sure to bring along some tartar sauce.
I just wish I knew what that looked like.
"What would you want it to look like?"
Well first of all, I'd like my band to be a success and to me that means, at the very least, the ability to support ourselves through playing music alone. Basically, that means making enough through the band that I don't need to have a "regular" job to pay the bills. At the extreme end of the dream is global musical domination where we get to tour the world playing for sold out audiences.
This dream, in its most sublime expression, would include an episode where I go out on a date with Paris Hilton. On this date, I would point out how sad and shallow her public persona is. She is so taken by this critique that she renounces her Hilton inheritance, moves to Calcutta and takes up where Mother Theresa left off.
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
Yeah, I'd also like to be a bestselling short story writer.
I've actually taken my first baby steps in this direction (see blog 221), and to add to this, I just purchased a very simple book about how to break into the publishing industry. It's just a primer on the very basics (like those ____ for Dummies books) but since I have absolutely no knowledge of the industry whatsoever, I'm finding it fascinating. Once I make it through this book, I plan on picking up the 2007 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market (if it's out).
"So you picked up a book on publishing. Big deal."
Yeah, maybe, but there's more to it than that. See, I'm not big on confidence. I was talking with an artist friend of mine recently and he talked about how on the surface he's full of bravado and daring when it comes to his work but deep down inside, there's a part of him that wonders if he has what it takes to follow through.
I told him I was the complete opposite of that.
On the surface, I think my writing is only worth reading for free on blogs like this one (see blog 206). Why would anyone pay to read my prosaic rants or my meandering short stories? But buried deep beneath this self-effacement is a tiny brain cell that thinks I actually have something to say - that the powerful play goes on, and I will contribute a verse (apologies to Walt Whitman).
Normally, buying even a simple book on publishing would be impossible for me because the surface insecurity would tell me it was futile. But today, that tiny brain cell asserted itself and I brought that book home with me.
Funny thing about the brain. It's always making new connections. Computer engineers working in the field of artificial intelligence might say that the neural networks in our brains are massively parallel - that we process things simultaneously rather than sequentially. Our brain can operate this way because of the new connections that are created (and which multiply geometrically) when we learn something new.
Now that my little brain cell of literary belief is firing away, who knows where that will take me.
Another case in point. Today I made my final shopping decisions at IKEA. Turns out I'm going to be spending almost twice as much on my desk and my chair (where I plan to do most of my writing) as I will on my bed frame and mattress. This was a deliberate move on my part - a way to tell myself that I'm serious about giving this writing thing a go.
There are some people out there who compensate for their insecurities by talking themselves up, by overselling themselves. These are the kinds of people who end up as incompetent upper management types. In contrast, I acquiesce to my insecurities by not putting myself out there.
But not any more.
I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into Jack Nicholas' character in the (excellent) movie "As Good As It Gets," but I am dipping my little toe into the pool of possibilities. And the water seems nice and warm.
"Yeah, and teeming with sharks."
Well then I'll be sure to bring along some tartar sauce.
Friday, October 06, 2006
228. first impressions of Seattle
So I'm finally settled in my new place in Seattle. It's a cool little place. My room is a bit smaller than what I'm used to but with some creative choices from IKEA, I'll make it work.
It's strange waking up here. Apart from the fact that I'm still sleeping on the floor (haven't made my final IKEA decisions yet), the thought that the place is HOME for me hasn't quite sunk in yet. Of course I've only slept there one night so far, so I suppose it's no surprise that things still feel new and unfamiliar, but I've been in the mainland for a week now and the idea that I'm not going to be going back to Hawaii (for at least a couple years) hasn't sunk in yet.
It's just too soon to tell, but overall I'm still very much in excited-to-be-here mode.
I've also unofficially taken this first week to not worry about finding work. I'm going to try and soak up what I can of the city without a car. I actually have enough in the bank to buy the car outright, but because I opened up the account with such a large check (from money I cashed out from utilities stock that my parents were putting away for me), they're not going to clear it for a couple weeks.
First impressions of living here:
1. It's BIG.
I don't mean that the city is big, I mean just being on the mainland itself makes me feel like I'm in a place where the roads never end. It's a trip (no pun) to see freeway signs that point the way to cities a whole state (or country) away, like Portland or Vancouver B.C. And to know that one could hit the road and end up in New York or Miami or even (conceptually) the southern tip of South America is pretty amazing.
I can't wait to get my car so I can go exploring. Not that I'm planning a trip to Peru, but I would like to strike out and see more of the state (time and financing providing).
2. Moving out on one's own is expensive.
Big lesson learned first day shopping for necessities: blankets are freaking expensive! And what the hell is the difference between a comforter and a blanket? How can you tell which blankets will keep you warm and which will leave your feet shivering?
It's amazing to see how much small stuff you need to make life work and how quickly all the minutia adds up. I mean I expected to pay a bunch for furniture but I didn't expect to see how quickly little things like waste baskets, towels, laundry bin, shower curtain, etc. can put a dent in your budget.
And speaking of shower curtains, did you know that shower curtains DO NOT come with the little hooks you need to hang them up? What's up with that? I got home from our first big supply shopping trip and was looking forward to a warm shower when I made this discovery. DOH! (Oh and there's a matte side and a smooth side to the curtain...does it matter which side faces in towards the shower?)
3. The divide between the powerful, the hip (the powerfully hip?) and everyone else seems a lot wider here.
In Hawaii, maybe it's because of the laid back attitude when it comes to wardrobe and attitude, it's sometimes difficult to tell the power players from the wannabes. 'Round Seattle, people exude raw power and confidence like it's perfume or cologne. I mean it's not done in an obvious way, but there's just something about the way some people carry themselves here - you just know they're in command of some heavy responsibilities and that they're compensated handsomely for it.
Likewise, the "in" crowd is unmistakable. They're down and they know it. You can just tell by the way they use their walk (and that paint can they're carrying) they're planning an incredibly hip night in impossibly hip (and secret) places with flawlessly hip people. And you're not invited.
These two factors can be a bit intimidating until I remember that I'm not here to start a career. I'm here in pursuit of a dream (global musical domination) so the powerful and the hip do not scare me. They're somewhat irrelevant because they're a means to an end. Not that I'm discounting their need for love and for Jesus, but keeping that in mind helps me to not be afraid of this new place.
4. I love IKEA.
I'm not saying IKEA is the end all and be all of furniture (I hear their stuff doesn't last), but for a person on a tight budget, their stuff looks a helluva lot nicer than 2 x 10s and cinder blocks.
One item that I'm particularly excited about is a TROMSO twin loft bed set with accessory table and shelf unit. Basically it's a bunk bed, but instead of a bottom bed, there's a desk underneath. Unfortunately, I guess the bed was designed for a room with higher ceilings than what I'm living in because the estimated space between the top of the mattress and the ceiling is a mere 20". Getting in to sleep isn't going to be fun but if submariners can do it. . .
"But you're not a submariner."
Hey, worst case scenario, I can get a hacksaw and cut two or three inches off the legs. In any case, I think the benefits far outweigh the costs. I don't think there's any other way to fit a bed and a desk in the room and both are necessities for me so if I need to mimic a Chinese contortionist to get into bed, so be it.
"But you're neither Chinese nor a contortionist."
Ahem.
Yeah, so the other thing that surprised me about the store is that basically everything is on sale. You know how in most furniture stores there's art on the walls and little sculpture things on the tables to give the display a homey feel? Well at IKEA, all the window dressing is for sale. Just about every item in the room displays has a little price tag attached to it - everything from the rug to the lighting to the bookends to the little cup holding pens and pencils (which are probably also on sale).
Lastly, there's an IKEA cafeteria-style restaurant inside the store and the food there is really good. I had the herb crusted salmon while Marty and Jen shared a plate of Swedish meatballs. We sampled each other's dishes and rave reviews abounded.
5. Marty and Jennifer are hella-cool roomates.
Mega kudos to them for finding the place. It's in West Seattle which, from what I've seen of it, is a relatively nice neighborhood. There are some areas that look a bit shady (and I'm not referring to the tree cover), but overall I feel safe walking or jogging around the area. The place itself is a lot nicer that I thought. It's a new development and we're the first ones to reside in the unit so everything is brand new.
Jen is a great cook and Marty is a great driver (until I get my own car). This is my first time living with roommates but so far it's been smooth sailing.
"You're not just saying this because they read your blog?"
Nope, I really mean it.
"They're not going to lower your rent you know."
I still mean it.
It's strange waking up here. Apart from the fact that I'm still sleeping on the floor (haven't made my final IKEA decisions yet), the thought that the place is HOME for me hasn't quite sunk in yet. Of course I've only slept there one night so far, so I suppose it's no surprise that things still feel new and unfamiliar, but I've been in the mainland for a week now and the idea that I'm not going to be going back to Hawaii (for at least a couple years) hasn't sunk in yet.
It's just too soon to tell, but overall I'm still very much in excited-to-be-here mode.
I've also unofficially taken this first week to not worry about finding work. I'm going to try and soak up what I can of the city without a car. I actually have enough in the bank to buy the car outright, but because I opened up the account with such a large check (from money I cashed out from utilities stock that my parents were putting away for me), they're not going to clear it for a couple weeks.
First impressions of living here:
1. It's BIG.
I don't mean that the city is big, I mean just being on the mainland itself makes me feel like I'm in a place where the roads never end. It's a trip (no pun) to see freeway signs that point the way to cities a whole state (or country) away, like Portland or Vancouver B.C. And to know that one could hit the road and end up in New York or Miami or even (conceptually) the southern tip of South America is pretty amazing.
I can't wait to get my car so I can go exploring. Not that I'm planning a trip to Peru, but I would like to strike out and see more of the state (time and financing providing).
2. Moving out on one's own is expensive.
Big lesson learned first day shopping for necessities: blankets are freaking expensive! And what the hell is the difference between a comforter and a blanket? How can you tell which blankets will keep you warm and which will leave your feet shivering?
It's amazing to see how much small stuff you need to make life work and how quickly all the minutia adds up. I mean I expected to pay a bunch for furniture but I didn't expect to see how quickly little things like waste baskets, towels, laundry bin, shower curtain, etc. can put a dent in your budget.
And speaking of shower curtains, did you know that shower curtains DO NOT come with the little hooks you need to hang them up? What's up with that? I got home from our first big supply shopping trip and was looking forward to a warm shower when I made this discovery. DOH! (Oh and there's a matte side and a smooth side to the curtain...does it matter which side faces in towards the shower?)
3. The divide between the powerful, the hip (the powerfully hip?) and everyone else seems a lot wider here.
In Hawaii, maybe it's because of the laid back attitude when it comes to wardrobe and attitude, it's sometimes difficult to tell the power players from the wannabes. 'Round Seattle, people exude raw power and confidence like it's perfume or cologne. I mean it's not done in an obvious way, but there's just something about the way some people carry themselves here - you just know they're in command of some heavy responsibilities and that they're compensated handsomely for it.
Likewise, the "in" crowd is unmistakable. They're down and they know it. You can just tell by the way they use their walk (and that paint can they're carrying) they're planning an incredibly hip night in impossibly hip (and secret) places with flawlessly hip people. And you're not invited.
These two factors can be a bit intimidating until I remember that I'm not here to start a career. I'm here in pursuit of a dream (global musical domination) so the powerful and the hip do not scare me. They're somewhat irrelevant because they're a means to an end. Not that I'm discounting their need for love and for Jesus, but keeping that in mind helps me to not be afraid of this new place.
4. I love IKEA.
I'm not saying IKEA is the end all and be all of furniture (I hear their stuff doesn't last), but for a person on a tight budget, their stuff looks a helluva lot nicer than 2 x 10s and cinder blocks.
One item that I'm particularly excited about is a TROMSO twin loft bed set with accessory table and shelf unit. Basically it's a bunk bed, but instead of a bottom bed, there's a desk underneath. Unfortunately, I guess the bed was designed for a room with higher ceilings than what I'm living in because the estimated space between the top of the mattress and the ceiling is a mere 20". Getting in to sleep isn't going to be fun but if submariners can do it. . .
"But you're not a submariner."
Hey, worst case scenario, I can get a hacksaw and cut two or three inches off the legs. In any case, I think the benefits far outweigh the costs. I don't think there's any other way to fit a bed and a desk in the room and both are necessities for me so if I need to mimic a Chinese contortionist to get into bed, so be it.
"But you're neither Chinese nor a contortionist."
Ahem.
Yeah, so the other thing that surprised me about the store is that basically everything is on sale. You know how in most furniture stores there's art on the walls and little sculpture things on the tables to give the display a homey feel? Well at IKEA, all the window dressing is for sale. Just about every item in the room displays has a little price tag attached to it - everything from the rug to the lighting to the bookends to the little cup holding pens and pencils (which are probably also on sale).
Lastly, there's an IKEA cafeteria-style restaurant inside the store and the food there is really good. I had the herb crusted salmon while Marty and Jen shared a plate of Swedish meatballs. We sampled each other's dishes and rave reviews abounded.
5. Marty and Jennifer are hella-cool roomates.
Mega kudos to them for finding the place. It's in West Seattle which, from what I've seen of it, is a relatively nice neighborhood. There are some areas that look a bit shady (and I'm not referring to the tree cover), but overall I feel safe walking or jogging around the area. The place itself is a lot nicer that I thought. It's a new development and we're the first ones to reside in the unit so everything is brand new.
Jen is a great cook and Marty is a great driver (until I get my own car). This is my first time living with roommates but so far it's been smooth sailing.
"You're not just saying this because they read your blog?"
Nope, I really mean it.
"They're not going to lower your rent you know."
I still mean it.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
227. the culture of Christianity
(this is a pretty long post so you might want to grab a cup of coffee and a muffin before starting)
My last week at house church I was asked to share what I'd learned throughout my time there. And I could think of no better idea to sum up the newfound understanding of Christianity that I've gained than to talk about the kingdom of God.
And so, from my notes:
The Kingdom of God
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus can be found referencing something called the kingdom of God (also called the kingdom of heaven in Matthew). Up until we discussed the idea of this kingdom in house church a few months ago, I had just assumed that Jesus was referring to what life would be like after we died. But through the discussions we had and through some books I've been reading, my understanding of Christianity and what Christ came to earth to do have changed completely.
First of all, the kingdom is not just about heaven after we die, it's about life here and now. The easiest way to show this is to look at The Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6:9-13. The telling line is in verse 10 where Jesus prays, "your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
That's present tense. That verse is talking about the Kingdom of God being here on this earth now, the way it already is in heaven.
So what is this kingdom of God?
Unfortunately (like the Matrix), it's not so easy to define. When describing the kingdom, Jesus says it's like yeast, like seeds, like a pearl, like a party, etc. In fact, in Luke 17:20-21, Jesus says, "The kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is in your midst." He deliberately used metaphors and stories because the complete idea of what the kingdom of God is has to be bigger than our understanding, our ability to define it, because once you have a definition, people start imposing it on other people. They use it as a measuring stick - are you in or are you out?
Think about the idea of being cool in high school. You couldn't really define what it meant to be cool, but it was immediately apparent who the cool kids were. If you tried to make a list of what it meant to be cool, that list instantly became uncool. Because the cool kids were always doing cool stuff before everybody else did them. Once everybody else was doing it, it wasn't cool anymore and the cool kids were already doing the next cool thing.
Jesus never really defines what the kingdom of God is because it's kind of like being cool - you can't define it, you just have to live it.
It also helps to think about the phrase itself, "the kingdom of God." It can be difficult for us to understand the idea of kingdom in America because we live in a democracy, but think of movies about King Arthur or a movie like Braveheart. To live in a kingdom meant you lived under the rule of a king. Those living in a given kingdom were subject to the king's laws and commands.
Now about these laws. I'm going to sidetrack for a moment to discuss the idea of laws, as it relates to the kingdom of God, because there are Christians out there who are missing the point.
A bad king used laws to oppress and control his people. A good king used laws to preserve order and to maintain the culture of the kingdom - their way of life, their traditions and customs. A bad king taxed his people to enrich himself - building bigger castles and stronger walls. A good king reinvested the wealth of the kingdom by supporting artists and philosophers thereby preserving and developing its culture. A bad king spread his kingdom through force, trickery and coercion. A good king shared his art and ideas with those around him, thereby spreading his influence through willing partnership.
What I'm trying to get at is the idea that some Christians look at spreading the message of Christ the way a bad king looks at his subjects. They seek to impose Christian values and morals by any means necessary. But (to paraphrase the cliche) what did Jesus do? He came into the world at a time when his followers were looking for political deliverance from the oppressive Roman empire. Indeed, among his own disciples was listed Simon the Zeallot. The Zealots were a loose band of Jews who sought to overthrow the Romans by acts of open aggression.
Jesus had a ready-made army in his followers and if he had wanted to, he probably could have led a huge campaign. He also had angels in his arsenal. At the moment he was handed over to be crucified, one of his followers cut off the ear of the high priest. Jesus reprimanded him saying, "put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? . . . Am I leading a rebellion. . .?" (Matthew 26:52-55)
The kingdom of God is not about power (the first will be last, the greatest will be servants - Luke 13:29-30, Matthew 23:11-12), nor is it spread through force. It grows through love.
In Jesus' day, many religious leaders had forgotten that loving God and loving others was more important than merely obeying commands. They wore their righteousness the way celebrities today wear haute couture fashions - as a way to distance themselves from the public - so they had a vested interest in discrediting Jesus because he saw their acts of righteousness for what they were - mere window dressing (Matthew 23:13-28).
To illustrate, there's a story in Mark 12:28-34 where there's a debate happening between Jesus and some of the various Jewish religious leaders of the day. A certain teacher of the law sees the debate happening but he enters the debate with a different attitude. He sees that Jesus is giving good answers and so he asks a question, not to challenge Jesus, but I imagine he asks, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" because it was a question that he himself was wrestling with.
"The most important one," Jesus answered, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your mind and with all your soul and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."
It's particularly important to note that in the teacher's response to Jesus, he includes the bit about loving God and neighbor as being "more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." I think it's because of this addition that Jesus "saw that he had answered wisely" and told him that he was "not far from the kingdom of God." Loving God and people is more important than the laws about offerings and sacrifices because those laws were things the Jewish people were supposed to do to SHOW their love for God.
Think about the kingdom metaphor again. A good king used the laws of a kingdom not just to preserve order, but also to preserve and perpetuate its culture. Each kingdom had its own ways of living life. They had different styles of art, a different language, different customs. Living in the kingdom of God means living out the culture of heaven here on earth - behaving now, the way we will after we've made it in to heaven.
So what does this life look like? How does a citizen of the kingdom behave? Now I have to be careful here because I can't just lay out a list of do this, don't do thats. That's the mistake the religious leaders of Jesus' day made - they made it about lists. It's more about principles than it is about laws. And that can be frustrating for people who like strict boundaries, but the upside is that it makes for a generous, inclusive belief system.
That said, a good starting point on learning about the culture of the kingdom would be to read through the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1 - 7:27). This was Jesus' debut sermon and in it, he lays out a revolutionary new vision on how to live. Throughout the sermon, you can see that he's trying to get at the heart of the law and in the end, it has to do with sincerity when performing religious acts (as opposed to aping meaningless, rote activities) as well as being excellent to one another.
And that's a kind of Christianity that I want to be a part of.
My last week at house church I was asked to share what I'd learned throughout my time there. And I could think of no better idea to sum up the newfound understanding of Christianity that I've gained than to talk about the kingdom of God.
And so, from my notes:
The Kingdom of God
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus can be found referencing something called the kingdom of God (also called the kingdom of heaven in Matthew). Up until we discussed the idea of this kingdom in house church a few months ago, I had just assumed that Jesus was referring to what life would be like after we died. But through the discussions we had and through some books I've been reading, my understanding of Christianity and what Christ came to earth to do have changed completely.
First of all, the kingdom is not just about heaven after we die, it's about life here and now. The easiest way to show this is to look at The Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6:9-13. The telling line is in verse 10 where Jesus prays, "your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
That's present tense. That verse is talking about the Kingdom of God being here on this earth now, the way it already is in heaven.
So what is this kingdom of God?
Unfortunately (like the Matrix), it's not so easy to define. When describing the kingdom, Jesus says it's like yeast, like seeds, like a pearl, like a party, etc. In fact, in Luke 17:20-21, Jesus says, "The kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is in your midst." He deliberately used metaphors and stories because the complete idea of what the kingdom of God is has to be bigger than our understanding, our ability to define it, because once you have a definition, people start imposing it on other people. They use it as a measuring stick - are you in or are you out?
Think about the idea of being cool in high school. You couldn't really define what it meant to be cool, but it was immediately apparent who the cool kids were. If you tried to make a list of what it meant to be cool, that list instantly became uncool. Because the cool kids were always doing cool stuff before everybody else did them. Once everybody else was doing it, it wasn't cool anymore and the cool kids were already doing the next cool thing.
Jesus never really defines what the kingdom of God is because it's kind of like being cool - you can't define it, you just have to live it.
It also helps to think about the phrase itself, "the kingdom of God." It can be difficult for us to understand the idea of kingdom in America because we live in a democracy, but think of movies about King Arthur or a movie like Braveheart. To live in a kingdom meant you lived under the rule of a king. Those living in a given kingdom were subject to the king's laws and commands.
Now about these laws. I'm going to sidetrack for a moment to discuss the idea of laws, as it relates to the kingdom of God, because there are Christians out there who are missing the point.
A bad king used laws to oppress and control his people. A good king used laws to preserve order and to maintain the culture of the kingdom - their way of life, their traditions and customs. A bad king taxed his people to enrich himself - building bigger castles and stronger walls. A good king reinvested the wealth of the kingdom by supporting artists and philosophers thereby preserving and developing its culture. A bad king spread his kingdom through force, trickery and coercion. A good king shared his art and ideas with those around him, thereby spreading his influence through willing partnership.
What I'm trying to get at is the idea that some Christians look at spreading the message of Christ the way a bad king looks at his subjects. They seek to impose Christian values and morals by any means necessary. But (to paraphrase the cliche) what did Jesus do? He came into the world at a time when his followers were looking for political deliverance from the oppressive Roman empire. Indeed, among his own disciples was listed Simon the Zeallot. The Zealots were a loose band of Jews who sought to overthrow the Romans by acts of open aggression.
Jesus had a ready-made army in his followers and if he had wanted to, he probably could have led a huge campaign. He also had angels in his arsenal. At the moment he was handed over to be crucified, one of his followers cut off the ear of the high priest. Jesus reprimanded him saying, "put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? . . . Am I leading a rebellion. . .?" (Matthew 26:52-55)
The kingdom of God is not about power (the first will be last, the greatest will be servants - Luke 13:29-30, Matthew 23:11-12), nor is it spread through force. It grows through love.
In Jesus' day, many religious leaders had forgotten that loving God and loving others was more important than merely obeying commands. They wore their righteousness the way celebrities today wear haute couture fashions - as a way to distance themselves from the public - so they had a vested interest in discrediting Jesus because he saw their acts of righteousness for what they were - mere window dressing (Matthew 23:13-28).
To illustrate, there's a story in Mark 12:28-34 where there's a debate happening between Jesus and some of the various Jewish religious leaders of the day. A certain teacher of the law sees the debate happening but he enters the debate with a different attitude. He sees that Jesus is giving good answers and so he asks a question, not to challenge Jesus, but I imagine he asks, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" because it was a question that he himself was wrestling with.
"The most important one," Jesus answered, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your mind and with all your soul and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."
It's particularly important to note that in the teacher's response to Jesus, he includes the bit about loving God and neighbor as being "more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." I think it's because of this addition that Jesus "saw that he had answered wisely" and told him that he was "not far from the kingdom of God." Loving God and people is more important than the laws about offerings and sacrifices because those laws were things the Jewish people were supposed to do to SHOW their love for God.
Think about the kingdom metaphor again. A good king used the laws of a kingdom not just to preserve order, but also to preserve and perpetuate its culture. Each kingdom had its own ways of living life. They had different styles of art, a different language, different customs. Living in the kingdom of God means living out the culture of heaven here on earth - behaving now, the way we will after we've made it in to heaven.
So what does this life look like? How does a citizen of the kingdom behave? Now I have to be careful here because I can't just lay out a list of do this, don't do thats. That's the mistake the religious leaders of Jesus' day made - they made it about lists. It's more about principles than it is about laws. And that can be frustrating for people who like strict boundaries, but the upside is that it makes for a generous, inclusive belief system.
That said, a good starting point on learning about the culture of the kingdom would be to read through the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1 - 7:27). This was Jesus' debut sermon and in it, he lays out a revolutionary new vision on how to live. Throughout the sermon, you can see that he's trying to get at the heart of the law and in the end, it has to do with sincerity when performing religious acts (as opposed to aping meaningless, rote activities) as well as being excellent to one another.
And that's a kind of Christianity that I want to be a part of.
Friday, September 29, 2006
226. on saying goodbye
So I'm here at Willie's house in Vegas. I'll be here until Monday night when I fly out to Seattle where I'll stay for...who but God knows and what but time will tell?
I'll tell yah, the hardest bit wasn't actually the day of the flight out of Hawaii, it was the day before. I come from a pretty typical 2nd generation Asian family, so emotions aren't shared freely. That said, it was quite a heavy blow to see my mother tearing up. Up until that point, the move was just the start of an exciting adventure for me, but those tears reminded me that there were consequences for those I was leaving behind. It's like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, "They who go feel not the pain of parting; it is they who stay behind that suffer."
But the hard part is over now, what's done is done. I'd like to think that my parents wish the best for me, but there were an awful lot of hints about coming back to Hawaii, as in, "don't buy too much furniture just in case things don't work out up there and you have to come back," or "make sure you keep the number of the moving company just in case you have to come back." At the time I took those comments as irritating attempts to undermine my confidence but now I see that it was their way of both subtly asking me if I was sure I wanted to go and telling me that I had a place to return to if things didn't work out. At least that's how I want to think about it.
It sucks that "goodbyes" are an inevitable part of life, but they are. The brutal truth of the matter is, even if people never move apart, death will have his say in the matter sooner or later. And a part of me finds this situation stupid beyond reason. What's the point of saying "hello" if that means there's going to be a "goodbye" at some other point?
"Geeze, Randall, could you be any more cynical?"
Oops, sorry about that.
I suppose one could see the fact of "goodbye" as a reminder to make the most of what time we do have together - to not take it for granted. I mean, for most of my 34 years at home with my parents, it was business as usual. But I think about the next time I'll see them - that will certainly be a more meaningful encounter. But that will make saying "goodbye" again even harder.
"There you go again..."
What can you do. That's life.
"You're not going to end this entry on this bum tip are you?"
No.
Look, I'm sorry that I had to say goodbye and hurt my parents, but God has bigger plans for me. Even though I didn't want to put my folks through it, as far as I was concerned I felt I had no other choice. I had to make this move. And in a way, it serves as fuel to succeed. I want to make something great of myself so they will see that their pain was not in vain. I mean how great would it be to return home with a successful musical career with my band or as a published writer? How cool would that be?
I'll tell yah, the hardest bit wasn't actually the day of the flight out of Hawaii, it was the day before. I come from a pretty typical 2nd generation Asian family, so emotions aren't shared freely. That said, it was quite a heavy blow to see my mother tearing up. Up until that point, the move was just the start of an exciting adventure for me, but those tears reminded me that there were consequences for those I was leaving behind. It's like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, "They who go feel not the pain of parting; it is they who stay behind that suffer."
But the hard part is over now, what's done is done. I'd like to think that my parents wish the best for me, but there were an awful lot of hints about coming back to Hawaii, as in, "don't buy too much furniture just in case things don't work out up there and you have to come back," or "make sure you keep the number of the moving company just in case you have to come back." At the time I took those comments as irritating attempts to undermine my confidence but now I see that it was their way of both subtly asking me if I was sure I wanted to go and telling me that I had a place to return to if things didn't work out. At least that's how I want to think about it.
It sucks that "goodbyes" are an inevitable part of life, but they are. The brutal truth of the matter is, even if people never move apart, death will have his say in the matter sooner or later. And a part of me finds this situation stupid beyond reason. What's the point of saying "hello" if that means there's going to be a "goodbye" at some other point?
"Geeze, Randall, could you be any more cynical?"
Oops, sorry about that.
I suppose one could see the fact of "goodbye" as a reminder to make the most of what time we do have together - to not take it for granted. I mean, for most of my 34 years at home with my parents, it was business as usual. But I think about the next time I'll see them - that will certainly be a more meaningful encounter. But that will make saying "goodbye" again even harder.
"There you go again..."
What can you do. That's life.
"You're not going to end this entry on this bum tip are you?"
No.
Look, I'm sorry that I had to say goodbye and hurt my parents, but God has bigger plans for me. Even though I didn't want to put my folks through it, as far as I was concerned I felt I had no other choice. I had to make this move. And in a way, it serves as fuel to succeed. I want to make something great of myself so they will see that their pain was not in vain. I mean how great would it be to return home with a successful musical career with my band or as a published writer? How cool would that be?
Friday, September 22, 2006
225. perspective
There were moments this week when I really got bummed out about leaving Hawaii, especially all of my friends.
But then I realized...
It's not like that scene at the end of The Abyss where Ed Harris heads down the, uh, abyss to defuse the nuclear bomb. He took the trip knowing he wouldn't have enough air for the return trip.
That's not the kind of trip I'm taking.
I mean, I know I won't be able to jump in my car and drive to see my Hawaii friends, but it's not like I'm flying to Mars. There are airplanes that can fly me back if things don't work out or if I get insanely homesick (probably from the lack of sunlight).
On another note, I think the biggest concern I have about Seattle is making new friends. I've had a chance to hang out with a bunch of old friends this week and for the most part, the friends who mean a lot to me are ones that I've known for years. Meeting new people stresses me out. I don't like it. I especially hate that moment right after you've run out of small talk. Usually, when I get to that point, I just make up some excuse (like, "oh, I'm sorry, I just pooped my pants") and make a quick getaway.
And I'm no good at follow up. For the most part, I don't call a lot of people to talk or to hang out. I usually wait for people to call...but that's not entirely accurate because it's not like I'm sitting around, staring at my cell phone wishing it would ring. What I mean to say is, I'm entirely comfortable just hanging by myself. I go to the bookstore alone. I see movies alone. I don't drink alone, but that's because most of the bars in Hawaii have karaoke machines and that means awful singers or awful songs (often both).
My poor people skills and my love of solitude makes for an unfortunate combination in a new city, but it's not like I'm going it alone. I'll have my band up there with me and they're a lot better at meeting people than I am so it's not like I'm going to end up as some crazy homeless cat person. And I can always fly back to Hawaii for a weekend or something (time and money permitting) if I start getting twisted up in a bad way.
Look, I'm going to do my best to make it, and I don't see much of a problem. My rent is only $500 and I like to think I know how to stretch a dollar pretty far if I need to. I have marketable office skills, I have a manager ready to give me glowing recommendations, and I don't mind going back to doing temp work.
"Hey, Randall. It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of something."
Hmm, I can see how it might seem that way. And maybe that is partly what I'm doing. I want to write down all the optimistic things I see about making this move so that (like I wrote in the previous post) I can look back and remind my self of why I moved if things start going sour. But I don't see that happening. But it's good to have a backup plan just in case. But I don't think I'll need it.
But then I realized...
It's not like that scene at the end of The Abyss where Ed Harris heads down the, uh, abyss to defuse the nuclear bomb. He took the trip knowing he wouldn't have enough air for the return trip.
That's not the kind of trip I'm taking.
I mean, I know I won't be able to jump in my car and drive to see my Hawaii friends, but it's not like I'm flying to Mars. There are airplanes that can fly me back if things don't work out or if I get insanely homesick (probably from the lack of sunlight).
On another note, I think the biggest concern I have about Seattle is making new friends. I've had a chance to hang out with a bunch of old friends this week and for the most part, the friends who mean a lot to me are ones that I've known for years. Meeting new people stresses me out. I don't like it. I especially hate that moment right after you've run out of small talk. Usually, when I get to that point, I just make up some excuse (like, "oh, I'm sorry, I just pooped my pants") and make a quick getaway.
And I'm no good at follow up. For the most part, I don't call a lot of people to talk or to hang out. I usually wait for people to call...but that's not entirely accurate because it's not like I'm sitting around, staring at my cell phone wishing it would ring. What I mean to say is, I'm entirely comfortable just hanging by myself. I go to the bookstore alone. I see movies alone. I don't drink alone, but that's because most of the bars in Hawaii have karaoke machines and that means awful singers or awful songs (often both).
My poor people skills and my love of solitude makes for an unfortunate combination in a new city, but it's not like I'm going it alone. I'll have my band up there with me and they're a lot better at meeting people than I am so it's not like I'm going to end up as some crazy homeless cat person. And I can always fly back to Hawaii for a weekend or something (time and money permitting) if I start getting twisted up in a bad way.
Look, I'm going to do my best to make it, and I don't see much of a problem. My rent is only $500 and I like to think I know how to stretch a dollar pretty far if I need to. I have marketable office skills, I have a manager ready to give me glowing recommendations, and I don't mind going back to doing temp work.
"Hey, Randall. It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of something."
Hmm, I can see how it might seem that way. And maybe that is partly what I'm doing. I want to write down all the optimistic things I see about making this move so that (like I wrote in the previous post) I can look back and remind my self of why I moved if things start going sour. But I don't see that happening. But it's good to have a backup plan just in case. But I don't think I'll need it.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
224. point me back to this entry
I can't believe I'll be leaving Hawaii in just about one week.
Earlier today I had my last haircut by my stylist of over ten years. She works at Macy's and she's great if only because I just sit in the chair and she knows exactly what to do. I just tell her "short" or "long" and she has at it. To be completely honest, I first started getting my hair cut by her because she's really cute, but it didn't take long to see that she wielded a mean pair of scissors.
Last haircut. Last full week in Hawaii. I'm sure there'll be lots of lasts in the next few days and it feels really strange. This is by far the biggest life change I've ever taken on and I feel a strange mix of sadness and excitement. Thankfully, fear isn't an emotion I'm wrestling with...at least not yet.
If it were up to me, I'd like to be done with the move already just so that I won't have to go through all the "goodbyes." It would be much easier for me to just make a clean break and be done with it. I try to go out of my way to make people around me feel comfortable, and saying "goodbye" doesn't allow for that. So not only do I have to deal with the sadness of moving away from the people I love, I'll also be repeatedly put into situations where I'll be the cause of discomfort for the very people I try so hard to soothe.
But I have to go. I love Hawaii and my friends here but I know, with a certainty that is rare for me, that I'm supposed to be in Seattle with my band.
I don't talk about it much (probably because I don't like facing it myself), but I don't like big decisions. (And I've never made the connection until now, but I think this is part of the reason why I've been single all these years.) On top of that, there are parts of me that are riddled with self-doubt. I believe this unfortunate combination of personality traits has kept me from fully realizing my potential.
What I'm trying to get at is the idea that this move to Seattle should be so outside of my comfort zone as to be impossible. A life change of this magnitude should not be something I can take on, but I really am looking forward to the move.
I know the main reason I'm comfortable with the move is the fact that I'm not going up alone. I'll have my band mates up there with me, and not just that, but we have a goal to pursue: global musical domination. Having a goal and friends to pursue it with somehow takes a lot of the fear and insecurity out of the equation. Somehow, it makes the things I should be concerned about (job, car, making new friends) seem insignificant. I suppose one or two months from now, I might be in full on freak-out mode trying to make things work, but if you see me post a blog like that, be sure to point me back to this entry.
Earlier today I had my last haircut by my stylist of over ten years. She works at Macy's and she's great if only because I just sit in the chair and she knows exactly what to do. I just tell her "short" or "long" and she has at it. To be completely honest, I first started getting my hair cut by her because she's really cute, but it didn't take long to see that she wielded a mean pair of scissors.
Last haircut. Last full week in Hawaii. I'm sure there'll be lots of lasts in the next few days and it feels really strange. This is by far the biggest life change I've ever taken on and I feel a strange mix of sadness and excitement. Thankfully, fear isn't an emotion I'm wrestling with...at least not yet.
If it were up to me, I'd like to be done with the move already just so that I won't have to go through all the "goodbyes." It would be much easier for me to just make a clean break and be done with it. I try to go out of my way to make people around me feel comfortable, and saying "goodbye" doesn't allow for that. So not only do I have to deal with the sadness of moving away from the people I love, I'll also be repeatedly put into situations where I'll be the cause of discomfort for the very people I try so hard to soothe.
But I have to go. I love Hawaii and my friends here but I know, with a certainty that is rare for me, that I'm supposed to be in Seattle with my band.
I don't talk about it much (probably because I don't like facing it myself), but I don't like big decisions. (And I've never made the connection until now, but I think this is part of the reason why I've been single all these years.) On top of that, there are parts of me that are riddled with self-doubt. I believe this unfortunate combination of personality traits has kept me from fully realizing my potential.
What I'm trying to get at is the idea that this move to Seattle should be so outside of my comfort zone as to be impossible. A life change of this magnitude should not be something I can take on, but I really am looking forward to the move.
I know the main reason I'm comfortable with the move is the fact that I'm not going up alone. I'll have my band mates up there with me, and not just that, but we have a goal to pursue: global musical domination. Having a goal and friends to pursue it with somehow takes a lot of the fear and insecurity out of the equation. Somehow, it makes the things I should be concerned about (job, car, making new friends) seem insignificant. I suppose one or two months from now, I might be in full on freak-out mode trying to make things work, but if you see me post a blog like that, be sure to point me back to this entry.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
223. failure
I made a goal to post at least one blog entry per week.
I consider a week to go from Sunday through Saturday.
Last blog posted was dated 09/04/06.
That took care of last week.
This week, I haven't posted anything.
This post doesn't count.
Boo for Randall.
I consider a week to go from Sunday through Saturday.
Last blog posted was dated 09/04/06.
That took care of last week.
This week, I haven't posted anything.
This post doesn't count.
Boo for Randall.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
222. thoughts on Seattle
So I'm moving to Seattle in less than a month. I've known about this move for a while now but it's getting close. I know this is going to be a huge change for me but it hasn't been that big of a deal for me...until these past few weeks.
See, for the most part, I'm a really laid back kind of guy. I take things in stride and I tend not to get overly emotional about changes. But the reality of the immensity of this move is beginning to get very real. Two things in particular are driving home the point for me.
1. I sold my car a few weeks ago.
I didn't really mind letting the car go because it's seventeen years old and didn't have a lot going for it - the AC gave out years ago, and it was a Corolla station wagon, not exactly a chick magnet. But I've had that car for sixteen years and was very good to me. All in all, it was pretty easy to let the car go, but it really drove (no pun intended) home the point that I'm getting rid of things that I love for this move.
Funny side note, I found out that the car stalled about a week after I sold it. Turns out it didn't have any oil in it. The way I heard it, they took the car to the shop and the mechanic pulled out the dip stick and it was bone dry. Oops! I like to think that the car shed tears of oil because it was missing me.
2. Martin, the guitar player/lead singer of my band, Harrison, and his wife are already up there and looking for a place to live and they've been asking me how much I can pay for rent.
Again, I knew I would have to find a place to live up there, but just the fact that I have to actually put a dollar amount out there as to how much I want to pay per month makes the move that much more real to me. It's one thing to say that you're going to live in Seattle. It's another thing to say that I'm willing to pay up to X amount per month in rent.
The deal isn't set yet but there is a place that they're seriously considering so not only do I have a rental amount, I also have an address for this place.
Doesn't get much more real than that.
"So how are you feeling not that the reality of the move is setting in?"
Actually, I feel pretty good. I really do feel like a new phase of my life is about to begin. And I really do believe that part of the reason I haven't been blogging as much lately is because a part of my subconscious is already there.
I guess to be completely, bluntly honest, there's a part of me that knows Hawaii isn't where I'm supposed to be right now. This part of me has known this for years now, and one of the reasons why it's taken so long to actually make the move is because of the band.
I had told my workplace that I was planning on being in the mainland by 2003. At that time I told myself that there were only two things that would keep me in Hawaii: meeting the girl of my dreams or getting into a band that was serious about moving to the mainland. Well, I didn't meet the girl but the band found me.
Which brings me here - four weeks away from Seattle.
With all that in mind, I suppose that's part of why I'm not more worried about the move and I'm actually not all that bummed about what I'm leaving behind. I mean I know I'll miss my friends and family and the food and...and, uh... Well, I'm sure I'll find other things to miss once I'm there but I'm hoping that I'll find that I've gained much more than I've lost.
This move is way overdue.
I'll probably start freaking out more and more as the date gets closer but there's no way I'm changing my mind.
I think of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, who recently died doing what he loved...wait, maybe that's not the best example to use here, but what I'm getting at is the idea that at this point in my life, I'm not supposed to be in Hawaii where it's warm and comfortable and familiar. I've known that for years and so in my mind, the things that I'm giving up are a bargain compared to what I'll gain. I don't know what that is yet, but I do know that I can't find it here.
Of course this might be just so much bravado and I might be filled with misery and regret once I'm up there, but I'll never know if I don't try.
I've written before that I'm not one who's sensitive to spiritual matters. I can't say that I hear from God the way some Christians do, but I know in a way that transcends reason that I'm supposed to get my ass over there. And I can only attribute that certainty to the Holy Spirit.
And how can I say no to that?
See, for the most part, I'm a really laid back kind of guy. I take things in stride and I tend not to get overly emotional about changes. But the reality of the immensity of this move is beginning to get very real. Two things in particular are driving home the point for me.
1. I sold my car a few weeks ago.
I didn't really mind letting the car go because it's seventeen years old and didn't have a lot going for it - the AC gave out years ago, and it was a Corolla station wagon, not exactly a chick magnet. But I've had that car for sixteen years and was very good to me. All in all, it was pretty easy to let the car go, but it really drove (no pun intended) home the point that I'm getting rid of things that I love for this move.
Funny side note, I found out that the car stalled about a week after I sold it. Turns out it didn't have any oil in it. The way I heard it, they took the car to the shop and the mechanic pulled out the dip stick and it was bone dry. Oops! I like to think that the car shed tears of oil because it was missing me.
2. Martin, the guitar player/lead singer of my band, Harrison, and his wife are already up there and looking for a place to live and they've been asking me how much I can pay for rent.
Again, I knew I would have to find a place to live up there, but just the fact that I have to actually put a dollar amount out there as to how much I want to pay per month makes the move that much more real to me. It's one thing to say that you're going to live in Seattle. It's another thing to say that I'm willing to pay up to X amount per month in rent.
The deal isn't set yet but there is a place that they're seriously considering so not only do I have a rental amount, I also have an address for this place.
Doesn't get much more real than that.
"So how are you feeling not that the reality of the move is setting in?"
Actually, I feel pretty good. I really do feel like a new phase of my life is about to begin. And I really do believe that part of the reason I haven't been blogging as much lately is because a part of my subconscious is already there.
I guess to be completely, bluntly honest, there's a part of me that knows Hawaii isn't where I'm supposed to be right now. This part of me has known this for years now, and one of the reasons why it's taken so long to actually make the move is because of the band.
I had told my workplace that I was planning on being in the mainland by 2003. At that time I told myself that there were only two things that would keep me in Hawaii: meeting the girl of my dreams or getting into a band that was serious about moving to the mainland. Well, I didn't meet the girl but the band found me.
Which brings me here - four weeks away from Seattle.
With all that in mind, I suppose that's part of why I'm not more worried about the move and I'm actually not all that bummed about what I'm leaving behind. I mean I know I'll miss my friends and family and the food and...and, uh... Well, I'm sure I'll find other things to miss once I'm there but I'm hoping that I'll find that I've gained much more than I've lost.
This move is way overdue.
I'll probably start freaking out more and more as the date gets closer but there's no way I'm changing my mind.
I think of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, who recently died doing what he loved...wait, maybe that's not the best example to use here, but what I'm getting at is the idea that at this point in my life, I'm not supposed to be in Hawaii where it's warm and comfortable and familiar. I've known that for years and so in my mind, the things that I'm giving up are a bargain compared to what I'll gain. I don't know what that is yet, but I do know that I can't find it here.
Of course this might be just so much bravado and I might be filled with misery and regret once I'm up there, but I'll never know if I don't try.
I've written before that I'm not one who's sensitive to spiritual matters. I can't say that I hear from God the way some Christians do, but I know in a way that transcends reason that I'm supposed to get my ass over there. And I can only attribute that certainty to the Holy Spirit.
And how can I say no to that?
Friday, September 01, 2006
221. tooting my own horn (aka shameless self-promotion)
So it turns out that one of my stories (this one) is getting published in the first issue of Ankeny Briefcase. The Briefcase is (as far as I can tell) a kind of side project of the Burnside Writer's Collective. I believe the collective is run by Donald Miller - yeah, the guy who wrote Blue Like Jazz.
And although I think it's cool to know that my little story will be out there, I'm not getting too excited about it yet because this is the Ankeny Briefcase's first issue and I have no idea what to expect - what will the printing look like, how will it be distributed, how good are the other stories, is anybody really going to read any of it? I don't know. Still, I'm thrilled to be included.
And although I think it's cool to know that my little story will be out there, I'm not getting too excited about it yet because this is the Ankeny Briefcase's first issue and I have no idea what to expect - what will the printing look like, how will it be distributed, how good are the other stories, is anybody really going to read any of it? I don't know. Still, I'm thrilled to be included.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
220. The Lepidopterist
A friend of mine has a brilliant comic strip blog called allergic to umbrellas. About a month ago, he said his blog was going to host a Guest Artist Week and he asked some of his artist friends to contribute work for this. I felt honored to be invited to contribute because he's a sharp guy with good taste (and I'm not just saying that because he asked me to contribute).
Anyway, it's been over a month now and I'm not sure what happened so I figured I'd just post the story on my blog.
And so I present...
The Lepidopterist
What else could he have done? With all the traffic on the street, Gavin wasn't even going the speed limit of 25. He saw the basketball enter the street from the sidewalk, out from an alleyway, and before he could make the connection between ball and boy, the child single-mindedly appeared in the street after the ball. The child didn't even have time to turn and see his SUV before it muscled over him - beating him down like a playground bully. There was only the slightest squeal of tires but it was too late even before his foot bore down on the brake pedal.
Screams and yelling, hands waving and finger pointing followed. There were stares - gazes angry, disbelieving, shocked, and scared. All this energy trained on him, his SUV, and the child, unconscious, trembling in acute shock.
Gavin was a lepidopterist - a scientist who specializes in the study of butterflies, moths and similar insects. He was on his way to a lecture and presentation at a private elementary school. In the back of his SUV was a box containing a dozen monarch butterflies - Danaus plexippus.
These butterflies lay their eggs on the milkweed plant. They feed on this plant and their bodies glean and store bitter chemicals known as cardenolides from its sap. Any given bird will only attempt to eat a monarch caterpillar or butterfly once because even if it can get past the bitter, pungent taste, the endless vomiting that follows will drive home the point that this insect, defenseless as it appears, is not to be reckoned with.
As the din of the crowd grew, Gavin was stunned. What's the protocol in a case like this? As a man of science, he knew that there were ways that things were done - procedures that both maintained order and ensured repeatable, verifiable experimental results - without which science could not go forward. This kind of deterministic certainty crept into every area of his life and while it made for a quiet, peaceful life, it also induced a kind of paralysis in unfamiliar situations, and certainly, this was one of them.
Questions, questions, questions. "Should I back up? What if the child is behind the front wheels? Should I get out? What will this do to my insurance? Can I be held at fault? What about the lecture at the school? Who are all these people? What will I say? Why now? Why me? Why do things always go so wrong? Oh my God, did I just kill a child?"
The questions continue to rattle through his mind and he lets them bounce off of one another. As if by instinct alone, he leaves the engine running, opens the door, gets out of the SUV, and braces himself before bending down to see what he's done. There are already a couple of bystanders looking underneath the chassis. They are calling out to the kid and he takes this to be a good sign until he sees the pool of blood darkening the asphalt.
One of the wonders of the monarch butterfly is its migration pattern. In the fall, these tiny insects make their way from Canada and the northern most of the United States down to the slopes of Sierra Madre Del Sur in southern Mexico - a journey of over three thousand miles. What makes this journey even more miraculous is the fact that the butterflies who migrate north are not the same ones that migrated south the year before. In fact, the entire round trip can encompass up to seven generations, most of whom mate and die along the northern leg of the journey. As the end of summer approaches, a special generation of butterfly is born - one whose life-span is up to eight times longer than that of their grandparents. This is the generation that makes the long haul down south to escape the bitter winter cold.
Of course the big mystery is how this last generation knows the way back to the homeland of their great-great-great-great-grandparents - a place they've never seen before. Gavin likes to believe that butterflies pass the secrets of this journey on to their offspring through song. He imagines the butterflies singing to one another about an odyssey of epic proportions as they fly ever northward. And he pictures the southbound flyers marveling at the way the song that they've had ingrained into them through repetition guides them on their way back to the mountains of Mexico.
Peering under the vehicle, Gavin can see that the boy is still alive but in very bad shape. He has no medical training but he can see signs of trauma everywhere along the boy's misshapen body. Another man runs up to the scene and introduces himself as a doctor - an oncologist, but a doctor nevertheless. He accesses the scene and barks an order to Gavin telling him to back his car up slowly.
He nods and gets back into his SUV. He puts it in reverse and backs right into the car behind him - a subcompact hatchback. Its hood buckles as crumple points in the front end give way. Gavin guns his engine and manhandles the little car back against its will. The woman behind the wheel doesn't sound her horn but she doesn't lay off of her brakes either. Satisfied that he's made enough room for the doctor and child, he parks his SUV halfway on top of the lady's hood.
He's done all that he can. There's nothing left to do but to let the life of this accident play itself out. It's all out of his hands. He shuts off the engine and watches the drama unfold in front of him through the window. Fire trucks, ambulance, police, first responders. Questionings, reports, no accusations, thankfully, but the guilt comes anyway. His cell phone rings. It's the school asking him where he is.
The details of butterfly migration are a mystery. The metamorphosis from larval form (caterpillar) into pupa and finally into butterfly is nothing short of a miracle. Once encased in its chrysalis, a radical, comprehensive transformation takes place. It begins with a process called histolysis which breaks down much of the caterpillar's tissue into a kind of gelatinous soup. Not everything is destroyed. Spared are the internal organs as well as a special set of cells called histoblasts. These cells are instrumental in building new body parts - legs, compound eyes, antenna, and proboscis, to name just a few - through a process called histogenesis. The wings actually begin developing from the first larval stages. Much of the wings' formation occurs within the caterpillar's body, but during metamorphosis, they grow exponentially and adhere themselves to the outer cuticle.
Once this transformation is complete, the (now) butterfly breaks through the chrysalis and emerges wet with crumpled wings. It clings to what's left of the chrysalis as it pumps hemolymph (insect blood) through its body, basically inflating its wings. After about an hour (depending on surrounding temperature and humidity), the wings harden into a rigid structure that enables flight. The horny butterfly takes to the air, eager to migrate and to mate.
Two weeks later, Gavin pays a visit to the boy's house bearing one small gift. His bruises have faded and broken bones are mending behind plaster casts. No hard feelings between any of the parties involved. Gavin sets a small cage on the boy's bureau. He points out the tiny green chrysalis attached to a twig and tells him that if he listens quietly and closely enough, he just might hear traces of the song of migration - a tune three thousand miles long.
(as always, you can see my other short stories at The LoneTomato Sauce)
Anyway, it's been over a month now and I'm not sure what happened so I figured I'd just post the story on my blog.
And so I present...
The Lepidopterist
What else could he have done? With all the traffic on the street, Gavin wasn't even going the speed limit of 25. He saw the basketball enter the street from the sidewalk, out from an alleyway, and before he could make the connection between ball and boy, the child single-mindedly appeared in the street after the ball. The child didn't even have time to turn and see his SUV before it muscled over him - beating him down like a playground bully. There was only the slightest squeal of tires but it was too late even before his foot bore down on the brake pedal.
Screams and yelling, hands waving and finger pointing followed. There were stares - gazes angry, disbelieving, shocked, and scared. All this energy trained on him, his SUV, and the child, unconscious, trembling in acute shock.
Gavin was a lepidopterist - a scientist who specializes in the study of butterflies, moths and similar insects. He was on his way to a lecture and presentation at a private elementary school. In the back of his SUV was a box containing a dozen monarch butterflies - Danaus plexippus.
These butterflies lay their eggs on the milkweed plant. They feed on this plant and their bodies glean and store bitter chemicals known as cardenolides from its sap. Any given bird will only attempt to eat a monarch caterpillar or butterfly once because even if it can get past the bitter, pungent taste, the endless vomiting that follows will drive home the point that this insect, defenseless as it appears, is not to be reckoned with.
As the din of the crowd grew, Gavin was stunned. What's the protocol in a case like this? As a man of science, he knew that there were ways that things were done - procedures that both maintained order and ensured repeatable, verifiable experimental results - without which science could not go forward. This kind of deterministic certainty crept into every area of his life and while it made for a quiet, peaceful life, it also induced a kind of paralysis in unfamiliar situations, and certainly, this was one of them.
Questions, questions, questions. "Should I back up? What if the child is behind the front wheels? Should I get out? What will this do to my insurance? Can I be held at fault? What about the lecture at the school? Who are all these people? What will I say? Why now? Why me? Why do things always go so wrong? Oh my God, did I just kill a child?"
The questions continue to rattle through his mind and he lets them bounce off of one another. As if by instinct alone, he leaves the engine running, opens the door, gets out of the SUV, and braces himself before bending down to see what he's done. There are already a couple of bystanders looking underneath the chassis. They are calling out to the kid and he takes this to be a good sign until he sees the pool of blood darkening the asphalt.
One of the wonders of the monarch butterfly is its migration pattern. In the fall, these tiny insects make their way from Canada and the northern most of the United States down to the slopes of Sierra Madre Del Sur in southern Mexico - a journey of over three thousand miles. What makes this journey even more miraculous is the fact that the butterflies who migrate north are not the same ones that migrated south the year before. In fact, the entire round trip can encompass up to seven generations, most of whom mate and die along the northern leg of the journey. As the end of summer approaches, a special generation of butterfly is born - one whose life-span is up to eight times longer than that of their grandparents. This is the generation that makes the long haul down south to escape the bitter winter cold.
Of course the big mystery is how this last generation knows the way back to the homeland of their great-great-great-great-grandparents - a place they've never seen before. Gavin likes to believe that butterflies pass the secrets of this journey on to their offspring through song. He imagines the butterflies singing to one another about an odyssey of epic proportions as they fly ever northward. And he pictures the southbound flyers marveling at the way the song that they've had ingrained into them through repetition guides them on their way back to the mountains of Mexico.
Peering under the vehicle, Gavin can see that the boy is still alive but in very bad shape. He has no medical training but he can see signs of trauma everywhere along the boy's misshapen body. Another man runs up to the scene and introduces himself as a doctor - an oncologist, but a doctor nevertheless. He accesses the scene and barks an order to Gavin telling him to back his car up slowly.
He nods and gets back into his SUV. He puts it in reverse and backs right into the car behind him - a subcompact hatchback. Its hood buckles as crumple points in the front end give way. Gavin guns his engine and manhandles the little car back against its will. The woman behind the wheel doesn't sound her horn but she doesn't lay off of her brakes either. Satisfied that he's made enough room for the doctor and child, he parks his SUV halfway on top of the lady's hood.
He's done all that he can. There's nothing left to do but to let the life of this accident play itself out. It's all out of his hands. He shuts off the engine and watches the drama unfold in front of him through the window. Fire trucks, ambulance, police, first responders. Questionings, reports, no accusations, thankfully, but the guilt comes anyway. His cell phone rings. It's the school asking him where he is.
The details of butterfly migration are a mystery. The metamorphosis from larval form (caterpillar) into pupa and finally into butterfly is nothing short of a miracle. Once encased in its chrysalis, a radical, comprehensive transformation takes place. It begins with a process called histolysis which breaks down much of the caterpillar's tissue into a kind of gelatinous soup. Not everything is destroyed. Spared are the internal organs as well as a special set of cells called histoblasts. These cells are instrumental in building new body parts - legs, compound eyes, antenna, and proboscis, to name just a few - through a process called histogenesis. The wings actually begin developing from the first larval stages. Much of the wings' formation occurs within the caterpillar's body, but during metamorphosis, they grow exponentially and adhere themselves to the outer cuticle.
Once this transformation is complete, the (now) butterfly breaks through the chrysalis and emerges wet with crumpled wings. It clings to what's left of the chrysalis as it pumps hemolymph (insect blood) through its body, basically inflating its wings. After about an hour (depending on surrounding temperature and humidity), the wings harden into a rigid structure that enables flight. The horny butterfly takes to the air, eager to migrate and to mate.
Two weeks later, Gavin pays a visit to the boy's house bearing one small gift. His bruises have faded and broken bones are mending behind plaster casts. No hard feelings between any of the parties involved. Gavin sets a small cage on the boy's bureau. He points out the tiny green chrysalis attached to a twig and tells him that if he listens quietly and closely enough, he just might hear traces of the song of migration - a tune three thousand miles long.
(as always, you can see my other short stories at The LoneTomato Sauce)
Saturday, August 19, 2006
219. movie recomendation: Little Miss Sunshine
Hard to believe it's been over one month since I've posted anything. I started a couple entries but never got around to finishing them, let alone posting them.
But I'm back.
At least for this entry...we'll see what happens henceforth.
"So where've you been?"
Well, I suppose I could say it was this or it was that but truth be told, I just didn't feel I had all that much to say. No, that's not the complete truth. The gritty truth of the matter is that I was lazy and unmotivated (not necessarily in that order).
And here's the strange thing. After a couple weeks or so, it got to the point where I felt like I had to have some kind of grand revelation in order to start posting again. See, before I stopped, one of the reasons I was posting so much was because of momentum. What I mean is, posting on a regular basis became something I felt like I need to keep up with just for the fact that I'd been doing it so consistently. On top of that, I knew people were reading and so I didn't want to let them down and so I kept posting even when I didn't feel like it.
And then when I stopped posting, it was like the opposite. I didn't post because I wasn't posting and it felt strange to just start up again without some kind of big epiphany.
But maybe all it took was a movie so amazingly great that I had to write about it.
And so here I am, writing and posting again.
"So what's the movie already!"
Okay, it's this little independent film called Little Miss Sunshine directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (who, judging by what's written about them in the Internet Movie Database, were both music video directors before this film). The film's cast includes the always brilliant Greg Kinnear, Alan Arkin, Toni Collette, and Steve Carell.
But the true star of the movie is the writing and the story and all the unexpected moments of tenderness amid chaos. It's basically a road trip movie about a highly dysfunctional family trying to get from New Mexico to California so that their daughter/sister/neice/granddaughter can make it to a beauty pageant. And I know that sounds like a pretty drab pitch, but the genius is in the details - how the characters crash in to one another and the surprising sparks of tenderness and grace that come out of their conflicts.
I used to be a BIG movie guy. There was one year where I averaged at least one movie per week for about a year and a half. But for the past few years, I'm on a roll if I see one movie per month (and that includes both rentals and at the theater). Two reasons for the decline. First, one of the two main art-house theaters morphed into a $1 movie joint and second, I've just found that the general quality of recent movies (even promising art-house/independent flicks) ranges from mediocre and predictable to downright waste of time.
On the one hand, you have big, blockbuster movie franchises that either use flashy special effects to distract you from noticing all the holes in the plot or try to wow you with the over-used M. Night Shyamalan-style surprise/twist ending. And then on the other hand you have your artsy fartsy indie films that condescendingly mock middle-class suburbia (yeah, I'm talking to you Mr. Dynamite) or paint such a dark, bleak, cynical portrait of life that you want to slit your wrists during the end credits (see my review of the Woodie Allen film, Match Point in blog 158).
Is it just me, or does it seem like movies these days are just trying too hard?
Little Miss Sunshine has renewed my faith in movies. It's tough and tender and strangely believable considering how odd it's cast of characters are - a Proust scholar who tried to kill himself, a teenager who has taken on a self-imposed vow of silence after reading Nietzsche, a horny geriatric who snorts heroin, a failed motivational speaker, the mother who tries to keep this family together, and a little girl trying to get to her beauty pageant. It sounds like a cheap gimmick (put random characters in a VW bus and watch what happens) but what's great about the movie is how the core humanity of the characters bleeds through their angular exteriors.
And maybe the most amazing feat of the film is the way it ends happily, but in a way that's both unexpected and utterly satisfying. We live in such a cynical, skeptical society that happy endings that don't feel fake or cheap or kitschy are nearly impossible to pull off, but Little Miss Sunshine does just that.
Definitely one of my two favorite movies of 2006 so far (the other one being Inside Man - see blog 186).
But I'm back.
At least for this entry...we'll see what happens henceforth.
"So where've you been?"
Well, I suppose I could say it was this or it was that but truth be told, I just didn't feel I had all that much to say. No, that's not the complete truth. The gritty truth of the matter is that I was lazy and unmotivated (not necessarily in that order).
And here's the strange thing. After a couple weeks or so, it got to the point where I felt like I had to have some kind of grand revelation in order to start posting again. See, before I stopped, one of the reasons I was posting so much was because of momentum. What I mean is, posting on a regular basis became something I felt like I need to keep up with just for the fact that I'd been doing it so consistently. On top of that, I knew people were reading and so I didn't want to let them down and so I kept posting even when I didn't feel like it.
And then when I stopped posting, it was like the opposite. I didn't post because I wasn't posting and it felt strange to just start up again without some kind of big epiphany.
But maybe all it took was a movie so amazingly great that I had to write about it.
And so here I am, writing and posting again.
"So what's the movie already!"
Okay, it's this little independent film called Little Miss Sunshine directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (who, judging by what's written about them in the Internet Movie Database, were both music video directors before this film). The film's cast includes the always brilliant Greg Kinnear, Alan Arkin, Toni Collette, and Steve Carell.
But the true star of the movie is the writing and the story and all the unexpected moments of tenderness amid chaos. It's basically a road trip movie about a highly dysfunctional family trying to get from New Mexico to California so that their daughter/sister/neice/granddaughter can make it to a beauty pageant. And I know that sounds like a pretty drab pitch, but the genius is in the details - how the characters crash in to one another and the surprising sparks of tenderness and grace that come out of their conflicts.
I used to be a BIG movie guy. There was one year where I averaged at least one movie per week for about a year and a half. But for the past few years, I'm on a roll if I see one movie per month (and that includes both rentals and at the theater). Two reasons for the decline. First, one of the two main art-house theaters morphed into a $1 movie joint and second, I've just found that the general quality of recent movies (even promising art-house/independent flicks) ranges from mediocre and predictable to downright waste of time.
On the one hand, you have big, blockbuster movie franchises that either use flashy special effects to distract you from noticing all the holes in the plot or try to wow you with the over-used M. Night Shyamalan-style surprise/twist ending. And then on the other hand you have your artsy fartsy indie films that condescendingly mock middle-class suburbia (yeah, I'm talking to you Mr. Dynamite) or paint such a dark, bleak, cynical portrait of life that you want to slit your wrists during the end credits (see my review of the Woodie Allen film, Match Point in blog 158).
Is it just me, or does it seem like movies these days are just trying too hard?
Little Miss Sunshine has renewed my faith in movies. It's tough and tender and strangely believable considering how odd it's cast of characters are - a Proust scholar who tried to kill himself, a teenager who has taken on a self-imposed vow of silence after reading Nietzsche, a horny geriatric who snorts heroin, a failed motivational speaker, the mother who tries to keep this family together, and a little girl trying to get to her beauty pageant. It sounds like a cheap gimmick (put random characters in a VW bus and watch what happens) but what's great about the movie is how the core humanity of the characters bleeds through their angular exteriors.
And maybe the most amazing feat of the film is the way it ends happily, but in a way that's both unexpected and utterly satisfying. We live in such a cynical, skeptical society that happy endings that don't feel fake or cheap or kitschy are nearly impossible to pull off, but Little Miss Sunshine does just that.
Definitely one of my two favorite movies of 2006 so far (the other one being Inside Man - see blog 186).
Friday, July 07, 2006
218. blog break
No, I haven't been posting much recently. But there are reasons.
I'm going to start working again on a screenplay that I had on my iBook before it got stolen back in '03. It's a really promising idea, and I really think that a screenplay (as opposed to a short story or novel) is the best vehicle to get it out because it has to do with three characters, each with different points of view and I don't want to make any one of them the main character. I want each to have strengths and weaknesses and I want to try and give them equal weight. I suppose a stageplay would work as well, but I haven't seen a lot of theater so I don't quite know how to go there. I have read a couple books about screenwriting and I've taken a couple film classes and so I'm going with a screenplay.
But that's not the only reason for the break. It also, I think, has to do with me reformulating the way I see and understand Christianity, because it's in transition and it's exciting but it's very unformed and thus hard to put into words. It's funny, there have been ideas that I've been working with inside my head and they seem promising but when I try to share them with friends, they just give me this blank stare. And I think that's because the ideas aren't fully formed yet and so they come out sideways when I try to express them and people look at me like I'm talking backwards or something.
It's almost like learning a new language. You learn a few phrases and you try them out but because you're just aping sounds that you learned, it sounds disjointed and awkward. And even after a few months of practice, the language is still cumbersome because it's not a fluid, natural part of you yet. And so even though you can hold a garbled conversation, it's still mechanical and some of the words are in the wrong place or you're using the wrong conjugation.
That's how I am right now with this new (for me) understanding of what it is to be a Christian. I've read these books (see blog 216), it's like I'm learning a new language and I don't want to converse with it until I have at least a rudimentary grasp of it. That's why blog 216 was so full of questions - because questions are all I have right now.
I'll be back soon to share what I'm wrestling with and what I'm coming to understand.
Thanks for your patience and understanding.
"Oh, come on. Throw us a bone, at least."
Okay. Here's something I'm chewing on right now.
If you believe in god, there are three basic ways that you can understand how he relates to our world.
One, god is everywhere and in all things - rocks, trees, animals, and certainly in you and I. Problem with this approach is that it offers no hope for deliverance from evil since agents of evil are part deity.
Two, god is completely separated from us - in another, inaccessible dimension if you will. The most common analogy to forwards this view goes like this: god is like a watchmaker. He made this intricate universe of ours, set it in motion and is now watching how all everything plays out. As I understand it, this is the view that many of America's forefathers held - Deism. With this in mind, one might say that America is a Deist nation rather than a Christian nation...but that's a topic for historians and religion professors to iron out. But again, the problem is that if god is inaccessible, then what good is he?
Third, you have the view of God that Jews had at the time when Jesus came on the scene, some two thousand years ago. In this view, God's realm and the world we live in overlap and in some places, they intersect. For the Jews, the Temple was a place where heaven and earth intersected (kind of like the wormhole in Star Trek's Deep Space Nine).
According to N.T. Wright, one of the things accomplished by the work of Christ is that the intersection of heaven and earth takes places not just in the temple or in churches, but within each and every follower of Christ (because your body is a temple - 1 Corinthians 6:19). And in part, that is how the kingdom of God disseminates - through the making of Christians through faith in Christ.
And again, I don't completely understand how that works or how we're supposed to use this bit of insight, but it's a lovely thought, don't you think?
"That's it?"
Well, you asked for a bone and I gave you one. You'll have to wait a bit for me to flesh it all out. (Sorry, I was watching a rerun of The Mummy on cable while eating my dinner, thus the bone and flesh imagery).
(Oh, and no matter how many times I see it, I still can't get over how much that movie sucks.)
(I need to watch less television.)
I'm going to start working again on a screenplay that I had on my iBook before it got stolen back in '03. It's a really promising idea, and I really think that a screenplay (as opposed to a short story or novel) is the best vehicle to get it out because it has to do with three characters, each with different points of view and I don't want to make any one of them the main character. I want each to have strengths and weaknesses and I want to try and give them equal weight. I suppose a stageplay would work as well, but I haven't seen a lot of theater so I don't quite know how to go there. I have read a couple books about screenwriting and I've taken a couple film classes and so I'm going with a screenplay.
But that's not the only reason for the break. It also, I think, has to do with me reformulating the way I see and understand Christianity, because it's in transition and it's exciting but it's very unformed and thus hard to put into words. It's funny, there have been ideas that I've been working with inside my head and they seem promising but when I try to share them with friends, they just give me this blank stare. And I think that's because the ideas aren't fully formed yet and so they come out sideways when I try to express them and people look at me like I'm talking backwards or something.
It's almost like learning a new language. You learn a few phrases and you try them out but because you're just aping sounds that you learned, it sounds disjointed and awkward. And even after a few months of practice, the language is still cumbersome because it's not a fluid, natural part of you yet. And so even though you can hold a garbled conversation, it's still mechanical and some of the words are in the wrong place or you're using the wrong conjugation.
That's how I am right now with this new (for me) understanding of what it is to be a Christian. I've read these books (see blog 216), it's like I'm learning a new language and I don't want to converse with it until I have at least a rudimentary grasp of it. That's why blog 216 was so full of questions - because questions are all I have right now.
I'll be back soon to share what I'm wrestling with and what I'm coming to understand.
Thanks for your patience and understanding.
"Oh, come on. Throw us a bone, at least."
Okay. Here's something I'm chewing on right now.
If you believe in god, there are three basic ways that you can understand how he relates to our world.
One, god is everywhere and in all things - rocks, trees, animals, and certainly in you and I. Problem with this approach is that it offers no hope for deliverance from evil since agents of evil are part deity.
Two, god is completely separated from us - in another, inaccessible dimension if you will. The most common analogy to forwards this view goes like this: god is like a watchmaker. He made this intricate universe of ours, set it in motion and is now watching how all everything plays out. As I understand it, this is the view that many of America's forefathers held - Deism. With this in mind, one might say that America is a Deist nation rather than a Christian nation...but that's a topic for historians and religion professors to iron out. But again, the problem is that if god is inaccessible, then what good is he?
Third, you have the view of God that Jews had at the time when Jesus came on the scene, some two thousand years ago. In this view, God's realm and the world we live in overlap and in some places, they intersect. For the Jews, the Temple was a place where heaven and earth intersected (kind of like the wormhole in Star Trek's Deep Space Nine).
According to N.T. Wright, one of the things accomplished by the work of Christ is that the intersection of heaven and earth takes places not just in the temple or in churches, but within each and every follower of Christ (because your body is a temple - 1 Corinthians 6:19). And in part, that is how the kingdom of God disseminates - through the making of Christians through faith in Christ.
And again, I don't completely understand how that works or how we're supposed to use this bit of insight, but it's a lovely thought, don't you think?
"That's it?"
Well, you asked for a bone and I gave you one. You'll have to wait a bit for me to flesh it all out. (Sorry, I was watching a rerun of The Mummy on cable while eating my dinner, thus the bone and flesh imagery).
(Oh, and no matter how many times I see it, I still can't get over how much that movie sucks.)
(I need to watch less television.)
Thursday, June 29, 2006
217. a larger circle of love (thanks K)
A friend of mine sent me a link to this article by Robert (Bob?) Fitts. And it goes right along with what I wrote in my previous blog (see blog 216), even though she told me later that she hadn't even read what I had written.
Hmm...maybe I'm on to something? Or maybe I'm just letting my ego get to me. Anyway, here are some quotes from the article:
As I thought on this problem, God gave me a brief declaration of unity and told me to say it often and teach it wherever I went in my travels. Here is the declaration He gave me:
"I belong to everything that belongs to Jesus, and everything that belongs to Jesus belongs to me. It is not, "Us and them." It is just "Us!" There is only one Body of Christ, and the problems of the church are our problems, for we are the church! The problems of the church, the whole church, are OUR problems, for WE are the church. And we can do more together than we can do alone!"
Several years before I received this declaration of unity, I had read a short little poem by Edwin Markham that says about the same thing as the declaration above:
He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
Can we embrace everything and everyone that Jesus embraces, even if they do not see things and say things like we do? He is Lord of the whole church, even a church like the one Paul planted in Corinth that was full of problems and carnal believers! We can, and by His grace, we will!
(see the rest of the article at http://www.house2house.net/modules.php?name=Content&pa=showpage&pid=56)
Hmm...maybe I'm on to something? Or maybe I'm just letting my ego get to me. Anyway, here are some quotes from the article:
As I thought on this problem, God gave me a brief declaration of unity and told me to say it often and teach it wherever I went in my travels. Here is the declaration He gave me:
"I belong to everything that belongs to Jesus, and everything that belongs to Jesus belongs to me. It is not, "Us and them." It is just "Us!" There is only one Body of Christ, and the problems of the church are our problems, for we are the church! The problems of the church, the whole church, are OUR problems, for WE are the church. And we can do more together than we can do alone!"
Several years before I received this declaration of unity, I had read a short little poem by Edwin Markham that says about the same thing as the declaration above:
He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
Can we embrace everything and everyone that Jesus embraces, even if they do not see things and say things like we do? He is Lord of the whole church, even a church like the one Paul planted in Corinth that was full of problems and carnal believers! We can, and by His grace, we will!
(see the rest of the article at http://www.house2house.net/modules.php?name=Content&pa=showpage&pid=56)
Saturday, June 24, 2006
216. you say you want a revolution?
Okay, so finally I'm getting around to blogging about the stuff I've been reading about in the books, The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren and Simply Christian by N.T. Wright. And I'm glad I read the two together because they illuminate the same subject but from slightly different perspectives and it really helped me work through the ideas they were presenting. I'm looking forward to diving right back in to the books again because I know I missed a lot the first time around.
Anyway, what follows is my take on what I got out of the books which is slightly different from what the books themselves say about Jesus and his gospel so if you think what I'm saying is crazy or wrong or unorthodox, don't hold it against the books.
The phrases, "kingdom of heaven" and "kingdom of God," are used throughout the gospels. Most of Jesus' parables reference this kingdom and it's all over his Sermon on the Mount. Indeed, in Luke 4:43 he says, "I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent."
There's not a lot of explanation as to what exactly this kingdom is - at least not an explanation of the factual sort. When describing the kingdom, Jesus says things like, "it's like yeast, like seeds, like a pearl, like a party, etc." He used metaphors and stories when talking about the kingdom, and while that can be frustrating in today's information age, I think it was deliberate.
See, I don't think a comprehensive theological understanding of heaven and salvation was what Jesus was after. When Jesus came on the scene, there were at least three major schools of thought when it came to the Jewish understanding of the scriptures - the Pharisees, the Saducees and the Esenees. Each had their own detailed way of parsing scripture, each backed up their reading with examples, and each thought the other groups were sorely misled. In other words, it's much like what happens today between various Christian denominations.
If Jesus wanted to set out a clear doctrinal position on scriptural issues, he certainly could have done so. And in a way, he did that, but in a way that the scholars of the day didn't expect or recognize or want. What I'm trying to get at is the idea that the use of metaphor and parable was the only way that Jesus could make his kingdom recognizable to us. And by keeping things open to interpretation, I think he was trying to tell us that it's not about the specifics as much as it is about the general idea.
And I think that he meant for there to be variations in the way his message is interpreted because if the world that he created is any indication, God loves variety and diversity.
And I don't want to come across as saying that you can believe whatever you want to believe. There are limits as to what one can believe about the message presented in the Bible outside of which one can no longer be called a Christian, but I think these boundaries are a great deal more expansive than we think.
Calvinism versus Armenianism, baptism by immersion versus baptism by sprinkling, the elements of the Lord's Supper as the actual body and blood of Christ through transubstantiation versus the elements as symbols representing the body and blood, once saved, always saved versus the possibility of losing one's salvation, charismatic versus conservative, Catholic versus protestant, dispensationalism versus preterism versus amillennailism, old earth creationism versus young earth creationism versus theistic evolution versus intelligent design. And on and on and on.
I just cited a bunch of debates off the top of my head and there are lots that I left out. And there are Christians who are very passionate about one side of one or more of those debates. Some of these Christians believe so passionately about their side that they claim that those who do not hold their view are not really saved or if they are saved, it's only by the skin of their teeth and by the grace of God.
Everyone seems so set on defending their little piece of the truth that they forget that there's a big, wide world outside the church that doesn't care one way or the other - they just look at us bickering Christians casting stones at one another, pulling splinters with logs sticking out of our eyes, and they wonder why anyone would want to sign on to be a part of such a group.
But.
What if.
What if we treated one another with love? What if we agreed to disagree on the specifics and got on with the business of treating a lonely, hurting world? What if we learned to see the differing ideas within Christianity the way a botanist sees a garden - as a thriving system of bio-diversity? What if the truth of the matter exists in the space between competing ideas rather than on one side or the other?
What if Jesus used metaphor and parable (as opposed to facts and definitions) as a way to encourage this variety, this diversity? What if the question, "who's right" is irrelevant? What if the real question is, "who's making the world a better place?"
What if instead of trying to figure out the right model of church, we tried to figure out the right model of society. What if instead of trying to reform and redeem culture, we put forward an entirely new vision of what culture should be. What if instead of merely feeding the homeless, we also went on to dismantle the patterns that perpetuate poverty?
What if we saw our mission as more than just saving individuals? What if we saw saving culture and nations as part of our mission (because Jesus called us to make disciples of nations, not just individuals - Matthew 28:19)? What if we stopped imitating the art the world makes ("redeeming" it by grafting on Christian messages) and started creating art that the world has to follow?
See, I think Christians have been on the defensive for far too long. I think we have settled for far too little. And I think we have focused too much on saving ourselves and not enough on saving the world. People flocked to William Wallace in the movie Braveheart because he offered them a better future for their lives as well as the lives of their children. Same with our forefathers and the American revolution. Same with Martin Luther King Jr. during the civil rights movement.
What is it that we Christians are working towards? What kind of society did Christ want to establish? These are the kind of questions that are tugging at my heart right now because I want to be part of a revolution, not a renovation.
Anyway, what follows is my take on what I got out of the books which is slightly different from what the books themselves say about Jesus and his gospel so if you think what I'm saying is crazy or wrong or unorthodox, don't hold it against the books.
The phrases, "kingdom of heaven" and "kingdom of God," are used throughout the gospels. Most of Jesus' parables reference this kingdom and it's all over his Sermon on the Mount. Indeed, in Luke 4:43 he says, "I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent."
There's not a lot of explanation as to what exactly this kingdom is - at least not an explanation of the factual sort. When describing the kingdom, Jesus says things like, "it's like yeast, like seeds, like a pearl, like a party, etc." He used metaphors and stories when talking about the kingdom, and while that can be frustrating in today's information age, I think it was deliberate.
See, I don't think a comprehensive theological understanding of heaven and salvation was what Jesus was after. When Jesus came on the scene, there were at least three major schools of thought when it came to the Jewish understanding of the scriptures - the Pharisees, the Saducees and the Esenees. Each had their own detailed way of parsing scripture, each backed up their reading with examples, and each thought the other groups were sorely misled. In other words, it's much like what happens today between various Christian denominations.
If Jesus wanted to set out a clear doctrinal position on scriptural issues, he certainly could have done so. And in a way, he did that, but in a way that the scholars of the day didn't expect or recognize or want. What I'm trying to get at is the idea that the use of metaphor and parable was the only way that Jesus could make his kingdom recognizable to us. And by keeping things open to interpretation, I think he was trying to tell us that it's not about the specifics as much as it is about the general idea.
And I think that he meant for there to be variations in the way his message is interpreted because if the world that he created is any indication, God loves variety and diversity.
And I don't want to come across as saying that you can believe whatever you want to believe. There are limits as to what one can believe about the message presented in the Bible outside of which one can no longer be called a Christian, but I think these boundaries are a great deal more expansive than we think.
Calvinism versus Armenianism, baptism by immersion versus baptism by sprinkling, the elements of the Lord's Supper as the actual body and blood of Christ through transubstantiation versus the elements as symbols representing the body and blood, once saved, always saved versus the possibility of losing one's salvation, charismatic versus conservative, Catholic versus protestant, dispensationalism versus preterism versus amillennailism, old earth creationism versus young earth creationism versus theistic evolution versus intelligent design. And on and on and on.
I just cited a bunch of debates off the top of my head and there are lots that I left out. And there are Christians who are very passionate about one side of one or more of those debates. Some of these Christians believe so passionately about their side that they claim that those who do not hold their view are not really saved or if they are saved, it's only by the skin of their teeth and by the grace of God.
Everyone seems so set on defending their little piece of the truth that they forget that there's a big, wide world outside the church that doesn't care one way or the other - they just look at us bickering Christians casting stones at one another, pulling splinters with logs sticking out of our eyes, and they wonder why anyone would want to sign on to be a part of such a group.
But.
What if.
What if we treated one another with love? What if we agreed to disagree on the specifics and got on with the business of treating a lonely, hurting world? What if we learned to see the differing ideas within Christianity the way a botanist sees a garden - as a thriving system of bio-diversity? What if the truth of the matter exists in the space between competing ideas rather than on one side or the other?
What if Jesus used metaphor and parable (as opposed to facts and definitions) as a way to encourage this variety, this diversity? What if the question, "who's right" is irrelevant? What if the real question is, "who's making the world a better place?"
What if instead of trying to figure out the right model of church, we tried to figure out the right model of society. What if instead of trying to reform and redeem culture, we put forward an entirely new vision of what culture should be. What if instead of merely feeding the homeless, we also went on to dismantle the patterns that perpetuate poverty?
What if we saw our mission as more than just saving individuals? What if we saw saving culture and nations as part of our mission (because Jesus called us to make disciples of nations, not just individuals - Matthew 28:19)? What if we stopped imitating the art the world makes ("redeeming" it by grafting on Christian messages) and started creating art that the world has to follow?
See, I think Christians have been on the defensive for far too long. I think we have settled for far too little. And I think we have focused too much on saving ourselves and not enough on saving the world. People flocked to William Wallace in the movie Braveheart because he offered them a better future for their lives as well as the lives of their children. Same with our forefathers and the American revolution. Same with Martin Luther King Jr. during the civil rights movement.
What is it that we Christians are working towards? What kind of society did Christ want to establish? These are the kind of questions that are tugging at my heart right now because I want to be part of a revolution, not a renovation.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
215. feeding the homeless (part two)
The feeding the homeless project meant a great deal to me, not just because we got to feed people, but also because it ties right in to what I've been learning in regards to what exactly it is that Christianity is supposed to be about (see blog 211). What I mean is, I've been finding that being a Christian has to do with living life now, the way it will be lived after Christ returns and makes all things right in the world because that's a big part of how God intends to usher in his kingdom - through individual and groups (large and small) of Christians who live now, today, as if his kingdom were already here.
The whole thing went pretty smoothly. We prayed, unloaded the food, set up the food tables, prayed again to bless the food and started serving heaping plates of rice, corn, macaroni salad, and some kind of amazing beef stew-type dish. And the people kept coming and we kept dishing it out, piling the food up as high as they wanted. We smiled, looked them in the eye, and told them to come back for more.
And I loved it because all we did was give. We didn't ask for any kind of song and dance from them, we didn't preach to them or ask them to listen to a sermon while they ate. We did our best to talk to them, treat them with respect and dignity, and some of us got to pray for them individually. In short, we did our best to treat them as if they were a part of our church or a part of our family.
The other thing that we offered was a simple arts and crafts project for the children staying at the shelter. We brought a huge stack of magazines, scissors, glue, and construction paper and we encouraged the kids to explore their dreams by cutting out images from the magazines that represented what they hoped for. In the corner of the shelter where we were doing this, we put up a makeshift banner that read, "What are your dreams?" And I thought that was one of the coolest things I've ever been a part of - encouraging these kids to think beyond this shelter and beyond their difficulties, giving them permission to grab images that spoke to their heart, cut them out, and paste them to paper. When a child was done with their sheet, we taped them up on the wall under the banner.
It was an encouragement to me to see a corner of the shelter decorated by the dreams of children. And I don't know if or how they were affected by it, but I like to think that maybe some of those kids will take hold of their dream and follow it until it becomes a reality. I imagine that these kids don't get to dream big dreams very often and it's my hope that our little exercise opened up their minds as to what's possible.
My mother showed me an article in the paper to day about a man who went from being a homeless single father to a multi-million dollar stock broker who routinely gives waiters and housekeepers and other service industry workers thousand dollar tips. And there are lots of other stories like this.
I don't know. Maybe I'm being entirely too optimistic about the whole thing. I mean, here I am in this house on this computer, I have a car in the garage, money in the bank, a job to go to, a healthy support network of family and friends. It's easy for me to think that our one night of food and arts and crafts made some kind of impact on those people and their children, but the reality is that most (if not all) of them are still there tonight.
But God doesn't ask us to save the world overnight. He asks us to do our part, to bring a piece of his kingdom to those who have no home and no food. Big changes only happen after small choices are made - like the choice to serve.
And I don't write all of this to brag about what a great Christian I am, to call attention to my charity.
"So why are you writing then?"
Because I feel like I caught a glimpse of heaven touching earth in that shelter. I got to see God doing his thing - bringing blessing and love and grace. And I felt encouraged and blessed, and I suppose I write about it because I want to share that experience with others.
And as I write that, I think of the blog I posted a few weeks ago (see blog 208) about how I wasn't stoked about sharing Christ with other people because I wasn't sure what Christianity was about. Yet here I am, writing about what what I saw. And I'm kind of tripping out because I feel as if I'm on the verge of having an understanding of the Gospel that I actually want to talk about and share.
It's a trippy feeling. And it feels pretty damn good.
PS. don't forget to pray for the homeless - a reminder I write for myself more than anyone else.
The whole thing went pretty smoothly. We prayed, unloaded the food, set up the food tables, prayed again to bless the food and started serving heaping plates of rice, corn, macaroni salad, and some kind of amazing beef stew-type dish. And the people kept coming and we kept dishing it out, piling the food up as high as they wanted. We smiled, looked them in the eye, and told them to come back for more.
And I loved it because all we did was give. We didn't ask for any kind of song and dance from them, we didn't preach to them or ask them to listen to a sermon while they ate. We did our best to talk to them, treat them with respect and dignity, and some of us got to pray for them individually. In short, we did our best to treat them as if they were a part of our church or a part of our family.
The other thing that we offered was a simple arts and crafts project for the children staying at the shelter. We brought a huge stack of magazines, scissors, glue, and construction paper and we encouraged the kids to explore their dreams by cutting out images from the magazines that represented what they hoped for. In the corner of the shelter where we were doing this, we put up a makeshift banner that read, "What are your dreams?" And I thought that was one of the coolest things I've ever been a part of - encouraging these kids to think beyond this shelter and beyond their difficulties, giving them permission to grab images that spoke to their heart, cut them out, and paste them to paper. When a child was done with their sheet, we taped them up on the wall under the banner.
It was an encouragement to me to see a corner of the shelter decorated by the dreams of children. And I don't know if or how they were affected by it, but I like to think that maybe some of those kids will take hold of their dream and follow it until it becomes a reality. I imagine that these kids don't get to dream big dreams very often and it's my hope that our little exercise opened up their minds as to what's possible.
My mother showed me an article in the paper to day about a man who went from being a homeless single father to a multi-million dollar stock broker who routinely gives waiters and housekeepers and other service industry workers thousand dollar tips. And there are lots of other stories like this.
I don't know. Maybe I'm being entirely too optimistic about the whole thing. I mean, here I am in this house on this computer, I have a car in the garage, money in the bank, a job to go to, a healthy support network of family and friends. It's easy for me to think that our one night of food and arts and crafts made some kind of impact on those people and their children, but the reality is that most (if not all) of them are still there tonight.
But God doesn't ask us to save the world overnight. He asks us to do our part, to bring a piece of his kingdom to those who have no home and no food. Big changes only happen after small choices are made - like the choice to serve.
And I don't write all of this to brag about what a great Christian I am, to call attention to my charity.
"So why are you writing then?"
Because I feel like I caught a glimpse of heaven touching earth in that shelter. I got to see God doing his thing - bringing blessing and love and grace. And I felt encouraged and blessed, and I suppose I write about it because I want to share that experience with others.
And as I write that, I think of the blog I posted a few weeks ago (see blog 208) about how I wasn't stoked about sharing Christ with other people because I wasn't sure what Christianity was about. Yet here I am, writing about what what I saw. And I'm kind of tripping out because I feel as if I'm on the verge of having an understanding of the Gospel that I actually want to talk about and share.
It's a trippy feeling. And it feels pretty damn good.
PS. don't forget to pray for the homeless - a reminder I write for myself more than anyone else.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
214. feeding the homeless (part one)
This Sunday, our house church joined up with a couple other house churches and we went to a shelter put together by the State and we fed the homeless. And for me, it was a heart-warming, inspirational experience for me because it really felt like we got the chance to be (in our earnest, but imperfect way) Jesus to these people. And it we didn't bring angry Jesus or judgmental Jesus or transactional (we'll feed you if you agree to try and get your life together) Jesus. We simply arrived with food and fed as many as we could and we prayed with those who wanted prayer. And we asked for nothing in return.
And I think again about the conservative ideology that I immersed myself in while I was in college in the mid-nineties. I think about how so many politicians and pundits were talking about reducing the size of entitlement programs like welfare. Basically, the reasoning went that there were millions of people sponging off the system, leeching off of welfare programs so that they wouldn't have to work, and the way to break this cycle was to reduce funding for the welfare programs that allowed these people to live lazily off of the tax-paying worker so that they'd be forced to work themselves. They basically painted all poor people as lazy individuals who would rather stand in line for a welfare check than go to work. The argument conservatives made was that if there was no check at the end of that line, that they'd be forced to get off their lazy butts and get the job that they'd been avoiding.
I had that reduced-entitlements drum beat into my head over and over again and so while I was there at the homeless shelter, it came to mind.
And I work at a staffing company (basically a temp-service) and so I get to see first-hand, the kind of spoiled, lazy, don't-want-to-lift-a-finger workers that conservatives use as examples of the need for welfare reform. Every morning we get calls from work-sites where our employees failed to show up. And we call these people and while most of them have the dignity to make up an excuse (feeble as they usually are), some come right out and say that they just didn't think they had to show up and would we please leave them alone so they can get back to sleep. And then when payday comes around, they make a big stink about how they worked a quarter hour more than what's shown on their timecard and we better get on the phone and do our job to make sure they get every penny that they have coming to them. And after we fire them for not showing up to yet another job, they march straight into the unemployment office to charge up their EBT card.
I run into these kinds of people on a weekly basis and there's a part of me that says, "yeah, why should the tax dollars that come out of the work that I do go to buy meals for people who are too lazy to even make up an excuse not to go to work?"
But.
But then there's the man I met, that night at the shelter, who has diabetes and he hurt his back in an accident that wasn't his fault and so now he can't work and so he thanks us for the food and for listening to his story. And then there are the women whose husbands left them with children to raise, to feed, to discipline, and to love. Some of them came to Hawaii from Micronesia and Guam and Saipan and so they don't have family that they call call upon to babysit. How is someone like that supposed to find the time and the energy to find, let alone keep, a job? And even if she found a job, who would watch her children?
I suppose in an ideal world. we would have a system where the sponges would get filtered out so that there would be enough support money to get those who really need help back on their feet. But we don't have that system yet and so the question is, what will we do in the mean time?
And I think of the parable of the sheep and the goats and how Jesus doesn't make a big deal of sorting between the needy who deserve help and the needy who don't.
Oops. I didn't mean for this to be such a rant. I originally wanted to talk about the good things I saw about feeding the homeless. I'll try and get to that tomorrow, but for now, to bed.
Stay tuned.
And I think again about the conservative ideology that I immersed myself in while I was in college in the mid-nineties. I think about how so many politicians and pundits were talking about reducing the size of entitlement programs like welfare. Basically, the reasoning went that there were millions of people sponging off the system, leeching off of welfare programs so that they wouldn't have to work, and the way to break this cycle was to reduce funding for the welfare programs that allowed these people to live lazily off of the tax-paying worker so that they'd be forced to work themselves. They basically painted all poor people as lazy individuals who would rather stand in line for a welfare check than go to work. The argument conservatives made was that if there was no check at the end of that line, that they'd be forced to get off their lazy butts and get the job that they'd been avoiding.
I had that reduced-entitlements drum beat into my head over and over again and so while I was there at the homeless shelter, it came to mind.
And I work at a staffing company (basically a temp-service) and so I get to see first-hand, the kind of spoiled, lazy, don't-want-to-lift-a-finger workers that conservatives use as examples of the need for welfare reform. Every morning we get calls from work-sites where our employees failed to show up. And we call these people and while most of them have the dignity to make up an excuse (feeble as they usually are), some come right out and say that they just didn't think they had to show up and would we please leave them alone so they can get back to sleep. And then when payday comes around, they make a big stink about how they worked a quarter hour more than what's shown on their timecard and we better get on the phone and do our job to make sure they get every penny that they have coming to them. And after we fire them for not showing up to yet another job, they march straight into the unemployment office to charge up their EBT card.
I run into these kinds of people on a weekly basis and there's a part of me that says, "yeah, why should the tax dollars that come out of the work that I do go to buy meals for people who are too lazy to even make up an excuse not to go to work?"
But.
But then there's the man I met, that night at the shelter, who has diabetes and he hurt his back in an accident that wasn't his fault and so now he can't work and so he thanks us for the food and for listening to his story. And then there are the women whose husbands left them with children to raise, to feed, to discipline, and to love. Some of them came to Hawaii from Micronesia and Guam and Saipan and so they don't have family that they call call upon to babysit. How is someone like that supposed to find the time and the energy to find, let alone keep, a job? And even if she found a job, who would watch her children?
I suppose in an ideal world. we would have a system where the sponges would get filtered out so that there would be enough support money to get those who really need help back on their feet. But we don't have that system yet and so the question is, what will we do in the mean time?
And I think of the parable of the sheep and the goats and how Jesus doesn't make a big deal of sorting between the needy who deserve help and the needy who don't.
Oops. I didn't mean for this to be such a rant. I originally wanted to talk about the good things I saw about feeding the homeless. I'll try and get to that tomorrow, but for now, to bed.
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
213. earthling
Most of the people who read this blog (as far as I know) are people who know me personally, so most people know that in a few months I'm going to be moving to Seattle along with my band. And if you didn't know, well you certainly know now.
And I haven't written a lot about the move because even though it's a big change for me in all kinds of key areas, I'm not all that worried about it and so I'm not really thinking that much about it beyond practical items like making sure I have enough reserve cash to get me by until I get settled.
But the days are going by and the reality of the move is starting to dawn on me and I'm beginning to have thoughts on the matter. But not the thoughts you might expect.
I've started running again, and while running, I've taken to catching up on some of the podcasts that I've been downloading. This afternoon I was listening to an interview between host, Valerie Jackson, and author, Laurel Snyder. They were talking about Snyder's book, Half Life: Jew-ish Tales From Interfaith Homes, which is about the changes occurring in Jewish culture because of intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews.
It was a fascinating discussion, and I couldn't help but wonder if what's happening to the Jewish community (the mixing of once pure bloodlines and the resulting cultural conflicts and confusions) is happing to all kinds of ethnic groups (and yes, I realize that being Jewish has both an ethnic and a religious component to it but I'm just using it as a launching pad for a larger discussion). Intermarriage between people of differing racial origins, while far from ubiquitous, is not as uncommon as it used to be. And I couldn't help but project this phenomenon out into the future and I started wondering about a world where race is a non-issue because of intermarriage.
I'm sure there are some who recoil in horror at the thought of the loss of the ethnic component of cultural identity. And I'm sure there are others who see that as a beautiful thing - an explosion of diversity and a potentially utopian symphony of different cultures coming together to create something altogether new. And pushing the idea even further into the future, I wonder if there will ever be a time when the idea of racial divides will be seen as an artifact of a darker, more ignorant era of human history. If this were ever to happen, I suppose people will simply consider themselves humans or earthlings.
Think that's impossible? I think a bit of that has already happened in America. There are whites in America who don't give much thought to the different Northern European bloodlines running through their veins. If pressed, they can probably tell you about their great-great-grandparents and some of the different countries they came from and how they, in their time, tried to maintain cultural traditions which they (sometimes more, sometimes less successfully) tried to pass on to their children and their grandchildren. But there are some whites who would prefer to just refer to themselves as white instead of breaking down their specific ethnic makeup by percentages. And I'm sure if you were to trace their family tree back far enough, you'd find an ancestor who would have recoiled at the thought of their great-great-great-great-grandson disregarding the racial component of their cultural heritage, but it happened anyway.
Thinking of the future in this way raises all kinds of fascinating questions and it's not hard to imagine some scary scenarios between the here and now and the there and then.
"Hey, I thought you were going to talk about your move to Seattle."
Oh yeah. So to kind of round out this soliloquy on race, I ended my little workout routine thinking about how life might be different for me being a part of a racial minority and if/how being an Asian-American from Hawaii might give me a different perspective from an Asian-American born and raised on the mainland. Because they're not necessarily the same thing.
I remember being an English major at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, and I remember how in the Asian-American writing classes that I took, they were still talking about the Asian-American writers conference that they held at UH in the 70s. And you could tell from the way the story was told that there were still unresolved issues even some twenty years later.
The conference started off as a great idea. There was a burgeoning Asian-American writing community growing in Hawaii at the time, and so people thought it would be a good idea to get some input from the more established Asian-American writers in the mainland. And so they organized this conference and held it at UH. And then the shit started to hit the fan. Basically, what happened was, the Asian-American writers from the mainland started accusing the local (based in Hawaii) writers of not being political enough and not doing enough to challenge stereotypes. The local writers countered with the argument, who are you to tell us how we should write?
See, many of the mainland Asian-American writers used their writing to give themselves a voice in a community where they were minorities. A lot of their writing had to do with identity and dismantling the stereotypes that tried to define them.
Because Asian-Americans in Hawaii make up a racial majority, they were free to just write stories about their parents or their childhood or just regular adult issues. They didn't feel the need to assert their identity because they weren't burdened by stereotypes to the same degree that the mainland writers were.
I think of that story and I wonder how being Asian-American in Seattle (or anywhere else in the mainland) will be different from being Asian-American in Hawaii. And I'm not that afraid of running into outright racism, I'm more curious to see what the differences are. And I wonder if I get the chance to hang out with some raised-in-the-mainland Asian Americans and I tell them about the Asian-American writers conference at UH, if they will have anything to say about what happened.
I don't know.
There are lots of unknowns when it comes to moving and I'm not naive enough to think that race won't be a factor at all, I'm just interested in finding out how much if an issue it will turn out to be.
"So you're moving to Seattle, and you're thinking about these abstract ideas on race?"
Heh, yeah. Welcome to my world.
And I haven't written a lot about the move because even though it's a big change for me in all kinds of key areas, I'm not all that worried about it and so I'm not really thinking that much about it beyond practical items like making sure I have enough reserve cash to get me by until I get settled.
But the days are going by and the reality of the move is starting to dawn on me and I'm beginning to have thoughts on the matter. But not the thoughts you might expect.
I've started running again, and while running, I've taken to catching up on some of the podcasts that I've been downloading. This afternoon I was listening to an interview between host, Valerie Jackson, and author, Laurel Snyder. They were talking about Snyder's book, Half Life: Jew-ish Tales From Interfaith Homes, which is about the changes occurring in Jewish culture because of intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews.
It was a fascinating discussion, and I couldn't help but wonder if what's happening to the Jewish community (the mixing of once pure bloodlines and the resulting cultural conflicts and confusions) is happing to all kinds of ethnic groups (and yes, I realize that being Jewish has both an ethnic and a religious component to it but I'm just using it as a launching pad for a larger discussion). Intermarriage between people of differing racial origins, while far from ubiquitous, is not as uncommon as it used to be. And I couldn't help but project this phenomenon out into the future and I started wondering about a world where race is a non-issue because of intermarriage.
I'm sure there are some who recoil in horror at the thought of the loss of the ethnic component of cultural identity. And I'm sure there are others who see that as a beautiful thing - an explosion of diversity and a potentially utopian symphony of different cultures coming together to create something altogether new. And pushing the idea even further into the future, I wonder if there will ever be a time when the idea of racial divides will be seen as an artifact of a darker, more ignorant era of human history. If this were ever to happen, I suppose people will simply consider themselves humans or earthlings.
Think that's impossible? I think a bit of that has already happened in America. There are whites in America who don't give much thought to the different Northern European bloodlines running through their veins. If pressed, they can probably tell you about their great-great-grandparents and some of the different countries they came from and how they, in their time, tried to maintain cultural traditions which they (sometimes more, sometimes less successfully) tried to pass on to their children and their grandchildren. But there are some whites who would prefer to just refer to themselves as white instead of breaking down their specific ethnic makeup by percentages. And I'm sure if you were to trace their family tree back far enough, you'd find an ancestor who would have recoiled at the thought of their great-great-great-great-grandson disregarding the racial component of their cultural heritage, but it happened anyway.
Thinking of the future in this way raises all kinds of fascinating questions and it's not hard to imagine some scary scenarios between the here and now and the there and then.
"Hey, I thought you were going to talk about your move to Seattle."
Oh yeah. So to kind of round out this soliloquy on race, I ended my little workout routine thinking about how life might be different for me being a part of a racial minority and if/how being an Asian-American from Hawaii might give me a different perspective from an Asian-American born and raised on the mainland. Because they're not necessarily the same thing.
I remember being an English major at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, and I remember how in the Asian-American writing classes that I took, they were still talking about the Asian-American writers conference that they held at UH in the 70s. And you could tell from the way the story was told that there were still unresolved issues even some twenty years later.
The conference started off as a great idea. There was a burgeoning Asian-American writing community growing in Hawaii at the time, and so people thought it would be a good idea to get some input from the more established Asian-American writers in the mainland. And so they organized this conference and held it at UH. And then the shit started to hit the fan. Basically, what happened was, the Asian-American writers from the mainland started accusing the local (based in Hawaii) writers of not being political enough and not doing enough to challenge stereotypes. The local writers countered with the argument, who are you to tell us how we should write?
See, many of the mainland Asian-American writers used their writing to give themselves a voice in a community where they were minorities. A lot of their writing had to do with identity and dismantling the stereotypes that tried to define them.
Because Asian-Americans in Hawaii make up a racial majority, they were free to just write stories about their parents or their childhood or just regular adult issues. They didn't feel the need to assert their identity because they weren't burdened by stereotypes to the same degree that the mainland writers were.
I think of that story and I wonder how being Asian-American in Seattle (or anywhere else in the mainland) will be different from being Asian-American in Hawaii. And I'm not that afraid of running into outright racism, I'm more curious to see what the differences are. And I wonder if I get the chance to hang out with some raised-in-the-mainland Asian Americans and I tell them about the Asian-American writers conference at UH, if they will have anything to say about what happened.
I don't know.
There are lots of unknowns when it comes to moving and I'm not naive enough to think that race won't be a factor at all, I'm just interested in finding out how much if an issue it will turn out to be.
"So you're moving to Seattle, and you're thinking about these abstract ideas on race?"
Heh, yeah. Welcome to my world.
Friday, June 09, 2006
212. some thoughts on worship
A friend of mine posted a blog about worship. In it, he quotes from an article written by Chuck Colson for the magazine, Christianity Today:
"When church music directors lead congregations in singing contemporary Christian music, I often listen stoically with teeth clenched. But one Sunday morning, I cracked. We’d been led through endless repetitions of a meaningless ditty called “Draw Me Close to You,” which has zero theological content and could just as easily be sung in any nightclub. When I thought it was finally and mercifully over, the music leader beamed. “Let’s sing that again, shall we?” he asked. “No!” I shouted, loudly enough to send heads all around me spinning while my wife, Patty, cringed.I admit I prefer traditional hymns, but even so, I’m convinced that much of the music being written for the church today reflects an unfortunate trend–slipping across the line from worship to entertainment. Evangelicals are in danger of amusing ourselves to death, to borrow the title of the classic Neil Postman book."
My friend used this quote as a jumping off point to ask questions about worship, questions like:
"What is worship?
What constitutes worship music?
Is it for our refocus on God?
Is it so we feel good, so we can then feel good about God?
Should worship be only songs with Scriptural significance and reference?
Is the Bible the end all of all that we can say of and to God?"
And the questions got to me because, like Colson, I have issues with a lot of the worship songs that get sung in churches today. And so I posted this response on his blog:
I have to say I understand what Mr. Colson is feeling (or not feeling) about contemporary worship. But I'm in an even more unfortunate position than he because I don't really care for hymns either...at least not singing them (they do contain some tasy poetry - fun to read - but it's draped over boring melodies and arrangements - not fun to sing).
I wouldn't go as far as Colson does in saying that contemporary worship tends towards entertainment. I do agree with him when he describes the song as having, "zero theological content." With that statement in mind, I can see how he can make the connection between contemporary worship and entertainment.
Perhaps an example would do well here.
Think about the difference between a movie like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and any Van Damme or Stephen Segal martial arts movie. The former is widely regarded as a work of art while the movies of Van Damme or Segal are panned as shallow, meaningless products of the Hollywood production mill.
The difference between the two? CTHD explores themes like loyalty, love, discipline, sacrifice. It handles these topics with subtlety and care. The other movies use plot as a necessary inconvenience - a thread to connect fight scenes together.
Contemporary worship can be compared to the Van Damme/Segal movies in that they don't provide a lot of material for your mind to chew on. They play solely to the senses and the emotions.
Traditional worship, on the other hand, can be better compared to the films of Antonioni. Although many film critics would disagree, I find his films dry and far too cerebral. They are more of an intellectual exercise than an engaging story. Likewise, I think hymns are great to read and think about but not a lot of fun to sing.
So how do I worship?
To be honest, I'm still trying to figure that out. I'd rather take time out to see a sunset or look up at the stars than sing either hymns or contemporary worship songs.
At the house church I attend, we dont sing our worship. We have a time where we go around the room and give people a chance to share what God has done for them that week. We also encourage our members to praise God through acts of service to people in need, and people who do so share what they did during our worship time.
I like what we do, but I do think there is something about song that gets at a part of the heart that mere words can't get to and so while I like what we do at the house church, I would like something more, I'm just not sure what.
So I wrote all that and now I'm wondering if I need to put more of a priority in finding a way to worship God that makes worship more sincere and real - a worship that speaks to the heart as well as the mind.
Take a look at the kind of worship that Jesus said God wants:
"Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth." (John 4:23-24, NIV)
Colson opts for "traditional hymns," for their theological content - truth. Lots of other people like contemporary worship music because it's very emotional - spirit. I'm wondering where it is that I can find worship that has both spirit and truth - worship that "the Father seeks."
This is a sad confession on my part, but worship doesn't play a huge role in my life. Certainly not in song, but that's not the only worship that I can participate in. The wonder of God's creation is all around us and although Paul cautions us against worshiping the creation rather than the creator (Romans 1:25), we would do well to remember that God's creation can point us back to him if we look carefully, attentively, diligently (Romans 1:20, my favorite verse of the Bible).
Living in Hawaii, there are times when I'm driving and I look around and think, "I can't believe I live here." It's in times like these when I can't help but lift up a little prayer to God in thanks and awe. I need to be more aware because the glory of God is all over the place, hiding in plain sight. And I need to soak up as much of this beauty that I can before I move up to Seattle with my band.
Opportunities for worship are all around me, all around us all, all the time. It's a problem of awareness, not availability.
"When church music directors lead congregations in singing contemporary Christian music, I often listen stoically with teeth clenched. But one Sunday morning, I cracked. We’d been led through endless repetitions of a meaningless ditty called “Draw Me Close to You,” which has zero theological content and could just as easily be sung in any nightclub. When I thought it was finally and mercifully over, the music leader beamed. “Let’s sing that again, shall we?” he asked. “No!” I shouted, loudly enough to send heads all around me spinning while my wife, Patty, cringed.I admit I prefer traditional hymns, but even so, I’m convinced that much of the music being written for the church today reflects an unfortunate trend–slipping across the line from worship to entertainment. Evangelicals are in danger of amusing ourselves to death, to borrow the title of the classic Neil Postman book."
My friend used this quote as a jumping off point to ask questions about worship, questions like:
"What is worship?
What constitutes worship music?
Is it for our refocus on God?
Is it so we feel good, so we can then feel good about God?
Should worship be only songs with Scriptural significance and reference?
Is the Bible the end all of all that we can say of and to God?"
And the questions got to me because, like Colson, I have issues with a lot of the worship songs that get sung in churches today. And so I posted this response on his blog:
I have to say I understand what Mr. Colson is feeling (or not feeling) about contemporary worship. But I'm in an even more unfortunate position than he because I don't really care for hymns either...at least not singing them (they do contain some tasy poetry - fun to read - but it's draped over boring melodies and arrangements - not fun to sing).
I wouldn't go as far as Colson does in saying that contemporary worship tends towards entertainment. I do agree with him when he describes the song as having, "zero theological content." With that statement in mind, I can see how he can make the connection between contemporary worship and entertainment.
Perhaps an example would do well here.
Think about the difference between a movie like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and any Van Damme or Stephen Segal martial arts movie. The former is widely regarded as a work of art while the movies of Van Damme or Segal are panned as shallow, meaningless products of the Hollywood production mill.
The difference between the two? CTHD explores themes like loyalty, love, discipline, sacrifice. It handles these topics with subtlety and care. The other movies use plot as a necessary inconvenience - a thread to connect fight scenes together.
Contemporary worship can be compared to the Van Damme/Segal movies in that they don't provide a lot of material for your mind to chew on. They play solely to the senses and the emotions.
Traditional worship, on the other hand, can be better compared to the films of Antonioni. Although many film critics would disagree, I find his films dry and far too cerebral. They are more of an intellectual exercise than an engaging story. Likewise, I think hymns are great to read and think about but not a lot of fun to sing.
So how do I worship?
To be honest, I'm still trying to figure that out. I'd rather take time out to see a sunset or look up at the stars than sing either hymns or contemporary worship songs.
At the house church I attend, we dont sing our worship. We have a time where we go around the room and give people a chance to share what God has done for them that week. We also encourage our members to praise God through acts of service to people in need, and people who do so share what they did during our worship time.
I like what we do, but I do think there is something about song that gets at a part of the heart that mere words can't get to and so while I like what we do at the house church, I would like something more, I'm just not sure what.
So I wrote all that and now I'm wondering if I need to put more of a priority in finding a way to worship God that makes worship more sincere and real - a worship that speaks to the heart as well as the mind.
Take a look at the kind of worship that Jesus said God wants:
"Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth." (John 4:23-24, NIV)
Colson opts for "traditional hymns," for their theological content - truth. Lots of other people like contemporary worship music because it's very emotional - spirit. I'm wondering where it is that I can find worship that has both spirit and truth - worship that "the Father seeks."
This is a sad confession on my part, but worship doesn't play a huge role in my life. Certainly not in song, but that's not the only worship that I can participate in. The wonder of God's creation is all around us and although Paul cautions us against worshiping the creation rather than the creator (Romans 1:25), we would do well to remember that God's creation can point us back to him if we look carefully, attentively, diligently (Romans 1:20, my favorite verse of the Bible).
Living in Hawaii, there are times when I'm driving and I look around and think, "I can't believe I live here." It's in times like these when I can't help but lift up a little prayer to God in thanks and awe. I need to be more aware because the glory of God is all over the place, hiding in plain sight. And I need to soak up as much of this beauty that I can before I move up to Seattle with my band.
Opportunities for worship are all around me, all around us all, all the time. It's a problem of awareness, not availability.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
211. a whole new world
Yeah, I haven't posted anything new in a while, but it's because I feel I'm on the verge, on the cusp of a grand new vista that's only beginning to open up to me. And I want to break on through to the other side before writing a whole lot more, but here's a little preview.
Last Sunday, I attended a church service at Hope Chapel Manoa and the service centered around 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 which reads:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.
The bit that I connected with the most is the part in v26 which reads, ". . .I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air." And I connected with that verse because that's the exact opposite of what most of my Christian life has been like. My (pathetic lack of) understanding of what Christianity was about was formed out of a shallow blend of group-think, herd mentality, peer pressure, and fear. Basically, I swallowed whatever the church put in front of me and I know that's not healthy, that we're supposed to test what pastors and teachers say against what the Bible says but they've got their degrees and their titles and their position so who was I to question them? Besides, I was afraid they'd revoke my Asian identity card if I made too many waves.
So I did what I was told and I believed what I was told.
But at some point, I just got tired of suppressing the questions that I had and I gave up on trying to fit into the mold that the church seemed to be trying to cram me into. Looking back now, most of my Christianity was just "running aimlessly" and "beating the air." I was working at something but I wasn't going anywhere, I wasn't connecting with anything.
Now? Now I don't hide my questions. I mean, most of my blogs are riddled with questions (see blog 179 and blog 201 for a couple examples).
At the top of the blog, I mentioned how I felt on the verge of some kind of understanding, and this understanding has to do with what it was that Christ came to earth to do - what he was trying to teach us about why we're here and how his church was to be an agent of light and change in a world of never-ending hurt and alienation. I'm discovering these things as I'm finally making my way to the end of two amazing books: The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren and Simply Christian by N.T. Wright. And I know I've been talking about these books for weeks, but I'm a slow reader, particularly with these books because they deserve (if not demand) a close reading.
And what I'm finding is that what Jesus wants to do in the world, and the way he wants to do it is far more amazing (shocking, in fact) than anything I have ever heard in my twenty years or so as a Christian. It's nothing short of revolutionary and it comes, not by way of force, but by love. And that sounds all hippie and soft and PC, but think about all of those Christians in the first century who were martyred by lion, by gladiator, by stoning. Think of the Christians today in the Middle East or in China who have to live with the fear of their government coming to their homes in the middle of the night and carrying them away to torture and to jail and sometimes to death. Not to be too harsh, but do you think that they would risk all of that for the kind of feel-good-Christianity that gets preached in many churches in America today?
Okay, not to disappoint, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm catching glimpses of a vision of Christianity that is worth dying for, that is worth crawling over broken glass to share, that is crazy enough to be true, and impossible enough to be possible only with God's help.
And here's the coolest part. It's not some new revelation, not some new way to read the Bible, not some radical kind of re-visioning of the Gospel. It's quite the opposite. What McLaren and Wright are trying to do is peer back through time, back to first century Israel. They try to understand the life and message of Christ through the ears and experiences of his peers, through first century Jews and Gentiles.
Think of the Sistine Chapel. Years of varnish and soot from thousands (if not millions) of candles had darkened the ceiling painted by Michelangelo. In 1981, the Vatican undertook a massive restoration project which was not completed until 1994. When it was finally unveiled, it was a shocking revelation. Dull, muted colors (see http://www.cegur.com/Michelangelo/RestorationBefore.html) exploded with life and vibrancy (see http://www.cegur.com/Michelangelo/RestorationAfter.html). The results met with nearly unanimous acclaim from critics, academics, and the general public. But there were some who mourned the loss of the old version, claiming that things like the darkening patina and the later (150 years later) additions of loincloths on some of the nude figures was actually a part of the cultural history of the work. Now I'm no art expert, but I don't think it takes a PhD in art history to appreciate the ability to see the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as Michelangelo originally painted it.
And I wonder if a similar kind of restoration needs to take place for Christianity. Perhaps we need to strip off the crust of two thousand years of embellishment and interpretation and tradition so that we can get back to the essence of the original message. And I'm not suggesting that we jettison all those years of critical thinking regarding the Bible, because they do offer necessary, valuable insight into what it does and does not say. But I do believe that we may have tamed too much of the Gospel through study and analysis. In making it simple and convenient to share (as if the message of Christ was a Hot Pocket), we've also sucked the mystery and mission out of it.
So be patient. There'll be lots more question and commentary to come, and I'm thinking that they're going to be big questions.
Last Sunday, I attended a church service at Hope Chapel Manoa and the service centered around 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 which reads:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.
The bit that I connected with the most is the part in v26 which reads, ". . .I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air." And I connected with that verse because that's the exact opposite of what most of my Christian life has been like. My (pathetic lack of) understanding of what Christianity was about was formed out of a shallow blend of group-think, herd mentality, peer pressure, and fear. Basically, I swallowed whatever the church put in front of me and I know that's not healthy, that we're supposed to test what pastors and teachers say against what the Bible says but they've got their degrees and their titles and their position so who was I to question them? Besides, I was afraid they'd revoke my Asian identity card if I made too many waves.
So I did what I was told and I believed what I was told.
But at some point, I just got tired of suppressing the questions that I had and I gave up on trying to fit into the mold that the church seemed to be trying to cram me into. Looking back now, most of my Christianity was just "running aimlessly" and "beating the air." I was working at something but I wasn't going anywhere, I wasn't connecting with anything.
Now? Now I don't hide my questions. I mean, most of my blogs are riddled with questions (see blog 179 and blog 201 for a couple examples).
At the top of the blog, I mentioned how I felt on the verge of some kind of understanding, and this understanding has to do with what it was that Christ came to earth to do - what he was trying to teach us about why we're here and how his church was to be an agent of light and change in a world of never-ending hurt and alienation. I'm discovering these things as I'm finally making my way to the end of two amazing books: The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren and Simply Christian by N.T. Wright. And I know I've been talking about these books for weeks, but I'm a slow reader, particularly with these books because they deserve (if not demand) a close reading.
And what I'm finding is that what Jesus wants to do in the world, and the way he wants to do it is far more amazing (shocking, in fact) than anything I have ever heard in my twenty years or so as a Christian. It's nothing short of revolutionary and it comes, not by way of force, but by love. And that sounds all hippie and soft and PC, but think about all of those Christians in the first century who were martyred by lion, by gladiator, by stoning. Think of the Christians today in the Middle East or in China who have to live with the fear of their government coming to their homes in the middle of the night and carrying them away to torture and to jail and sometimes to death. Not to be too harsh, but do you think that they would risk all of that for the kind of feel-good-Christianity that gets preached in many churches in America today?
Okay, not to disappoint, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm catching glimpses of a vision of Christianity that is worth dying for, that is worth crawling over broken glass to share, that is crazy enough to be true, and impossible enough to be possible only with God's help.
And here's the coolest part. It's not some new revelation, not some new way to read the Bible, not some radical kind of re-visioning of the Gospel. It's quite the opposite. What McLaren and Wright are trying to do is peer back through time, back to first century Israel. They try to understand the life and message of Christ through the ears and experiences of his peers, through first century Jews and Gentiles.
Think of the Sistine Chapel. Years of varnish and soot from thousands (if not millions) of candles had darkened the ceiling painted by Michelangelo. In 1981, the Vatican undertook a massive restoration project which was not completed until 1994. When it was finally unveiled, it was a shocking revelation. Dull, muted colors (see http://www.cegur.com/Michelangelo/RestorationBefore.html) exploded with life and vibrancy (see http://www.cegur.com/Michelangelo/RestorationAfter.html). The results met with nearly unanimous acclaim from critics, academics, and the general public. But there were some who mourned the loss of the old version, claiming that things like the darkening patina and the later (150 years later) additions of loincloths on some of the nude figures was actually a part of the cultural history of the work. Now I'm no art expert, but I don't think it takes a PhD in art history to appreciate the ability to see the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as Michelangelo originally painted it.
And I wonder if a similar kind of restoration needs to take place for Christianity. Perhaps we need to strip off the crust of two thousand years of embellishment and interpretation and tradition so that we can get back to the essence of the original message. And I'm not suggesting that we jettison all those years of critical thinking regarding the Bible, because they do offer necessary, valuable insight into what it does and does not say. But I do believe that we may have tamed too much of the Gospel through study and analysis. In making it simple and convenient to share (as if the message of Christ was a Hot Pocket), we've also sucked the mystery and mission out of it.
So be patient. There'll be lots more question and commentary to come, and I'm thinking that they're going to be big questions.
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