Friday, December 30, 2005
Biscotti has made a very astute comment on the meaning of life. It took me by surprise with its simplicity and truth. Preach it Erin!
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Birth to Death
I always wanted to play Mary in the Sunday School plays, but never was chosen. I wasn't the Mary type, if there is such thing as one. I didn't have smooth dark hair or rosy cheeks. My roles were as shepherd, angel (don't laugh at that one), sometimes soloist. My years of being young enough to be Mary are long past, so I'll have to let that go.
The picture of the manger scene is always so beautifully portrayed at church and in nativity scenes. And why not? His birth is so miraculous and beautiful. But in the real life raw environment, I think it was anything but lovely.
I haven't been around alot of stables, but the farms I have been on have smelled like a pungent mixture of sweet, fermented hay, animal sweat, and dung. To the real farm lover that might be a wonderful smell, but not to most of us. We know he was of lowly birth and the story about being no room in the inn. We picture a simple stable in a cave, where the animals were quieted and calmed by his birth while harps played. In reality, if Bethlehem was overcrowded it stands to reason that so was the stable. Too many horses and donkeys from the travellers. Lots of cows and sheep for food and clothing. After all, there would be a financial glut to be gained from all the foreigners coming home. Perhaps "no room" almost applied to the stable as well.
So, I picture this baby being born to an unwed couple, the "father" of a common profession that wouldn't earn much money. The couple young in age and relationship. Tired. Painful, sweaty childbirth with all the mucous and blood and afterbirth that accompanies it. Not a pretty picture, but miraculous in that God chose such "normalcy" through which to bring redemption.
Fast forward to Jesus' death. Betrayal, a scathing trial, disfiguring beatings, torture to the cessation of life, while between two low lifes. Killed with a method used for society's cast-outs. No money for a proper tomb - someone looked after that for him.
It seems he died the way he was born. Immersed in the muck and mire of earth and His creation. Not as pretty as we imagine it to be. But we make things to fit the season and our inability to handle that kind of life. We lose some of the significance but we can't deal with the full reality. It's too far removed from what we experience in our country and generation.
There is beauty too in his birth and death. But it wasn't in physicality. It was in love and redemption. The ugliness of His earthly reality has made deeper the beauty of the sacrifice, from beginning to end.
The picture of the manger scene is always so beautifully portrayed at church and in nativity scenes. And why not? His birth is so miraculous and beautiful. But in the real life raw environment, I think it was anything but lovely.
I haven't been around alot of stables, but the farms I have been on have smelled like a pungent mixture of sweet, fermented hay, animal sweat, and dung. To the real farm lover that might be a wonderful smell, but not to most of us. We know he was of lowly birth and the story about being no room in the inn. We picture a simple stable in a cave, where the animals were quieted and calmed by his birth while harps played. In reality, if Bethlehem was overcrowded it stands to reason that so was the stable. Too many horses and donkeys from the travellers. Lots of cows and sheep for food and clothing. After all, there would be a financial glut to be gained from all the foreigners coming home. Perhaps "no room" almost applied to the stable as well.
So, I picture this baby being born to an unwed couple, the "father" of a common profession that wouldn't earn much money. The couple young in age and relationship. Tired. Painful, sweaty childbirth with all the mucous and blood and afterbirth that accompanies it. Not a pretty picture, but miraculous in that God chose such "normalcy" through which to bring redemption.
Fast forward to Jesus' death. Betrayal, a scathing trial, disfiguring beatings, torture to the cessation of life, while between two low lifes. Killed with a method used for society's cast-outs. No money for a proper tomb - someone looked after that for him.
It seems he died the way he was born. Immersed in the muck and mire of earth and His creation. Not as pretty as we imagine it to be. But we make things to fit the season and our inability to handle that kind of life. We lose some of the significance but we can't deal with the full reality. It's too far removed from what we experience in our country and generation.
There is beauty too in his birth and death. But it wasn't in physicality. It was in love and redemption. The ugliness of His earthly reality has made deeper the beauty of the sacrifice, from beginning to end.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Generational Curses
The Old Testament talks about generational curses...the sins of the father visiting to the fifth generation. I have kept this a secret, but need to release something. I have been hesitant to do so because I fear that those few who love me will remove themselves from my presence. This is perhaps the most honest post I have ever written.
There is something which resides in me. I inherited it from my predecessors. I can't say which one, because I haven't asked her permission. It isn't from my father though. Let me unburden myself.
I fart and burp. Yes, it's true. Oh sure, I've always taught Matthew that women don't fart - they "fluff". But this past year I have found it increasingly difficult to restrain the pressure of air leaving my body. I've almost given in to the inevitability of it, and have lowered my moral standing on it.
Now I laugh at my own farts. Yep. I lay in bed in the morning, let one rip, and then giggle really loud. I enjoy the different tones and sound effects. They appeal to the musician in me. A couple weeks ago while Matthew and I were in the kitchen I couldn't help it. One came out. Matthew looked at me and adamantly said "I hope you're not going to laugh at THAT one." I should have been ashamed, but it made me laugh all the harder that he said it.
I work in an office with about 10 people. Well, I have my own 14x16 foot room, and within that my own cubicle. That means no one can see me unless they come right up to my desk to address me. Yesterday I ate lunch at my desk as usual, and shortly after the forbidden happened. I couldn't stop it. I didn't think about stopping it. A huge burp belted out of me. Then I muttered "oh no, did anyone hear?" I stopped working and listened for any talking or footsteps, but heard none. Phew. I'm not ready for my peers to know this about me yet.
I don't know if posting this is a good thing or not. It's an embarrasment to come out of the closet like this. I'm hoping that confession will break the generational ties. Because, judging by Matthew's farts, the curse follows adoption lineage as well.
There is something which resides in me. I inherited it from my predecessors. I can't say which one, because I haven't asked her permission. It isn't from my father though. Let me unburden myself.
I fart and burp. Yes, it's true. Oh sure, I've always taught Matthew that women don't fart - they "fluff". But this past year I have found it increasingly difficult to restrain the pressure of air leaving my body. I've almost given in to the inevitability of it, and have lowered my moral standing on it.
Now I laugh at my own farts. Yep. I lay in bed in the morning, let one rip, and then giggle really loud. I enjoy the different tones and sound effects. They appeal to the musician in me. A couple weeks ago while Matthew and I were in the kitchen I couldn't help it. One came out. Matthew looked at me and adamantly said "I hope you're not going to laugh at THAT one." I should have been ashamed, but it made me laugh all the harder that he said it.
I work in an office with about 10 people. Well, I have my own 14x16 foot room, and within that my own cubicle. That means no one can see me unless they come right up to my desk to address me. Yesterday I ate lunch at my desk as usual, and shortly after the forbidden happened. I couldn't stop it. I didn't think about stopping it. A huge burp belted out of me. Then I muttered "oh no, did anyone hear?" I stopped working and listened for any talking or footsteps, but heard none. Phew. I'm not ready for my peers to know this about me yet.
I don't know if posting this is a good thing or not. It's an embarrasment to come out of the closet like this. I'm hoping that confession will break the generational ties. Because, judging by Matthew's farts, the curse follows adoption lineage as well.
Monday, December 19, 2005
One of my Goals
I stated a while back that one thing I wanted to do more was bring my camera places and take pictures. Well, last month I went to the monastery, and have now published a set of pictures on Flickr. You can check them out on the sidebar, under the set name "monastery".
A couple of the settings really inspired me about God. Suitable for a monastery to do that, hey?
A couple of the settings really inspired me about God. Suitable for a monastery to do that, hey?
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Joke from my mom
A blonde goes to the post office to buy stamps for her Christmas cards.
She says to the clerk, "May I have 50 Christmas stamps?"
The clerk says,"What denomination?"
The blonde says, "Heaven help us. Has it come to this?
Give me 6 Catholic, 12 Presbyterian, 10 Lutheran and 22 Baptists."
She says to the clerk, "May I have 50 Christmas stamps?"
The clerk says,"What denomination?"
The blonde says, "Heaven help us. Has it come to this?
Give me 6 Catholic, 12 Presbyterian, 10 Lutheran and 22 Baptists."
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Grace Movement and Postmodernism in the Church
With a title like that, I better come up with something good, hey?
First of all, I would like to preface this by saying that if you have recently written an article on either of these topics, I haven't got a clue. If you think this is about you or your blog, sorry to say that it isn't. Unless you're Darryl Dash.
Over a month ago Darryl wrote a piece that talked about postmodernism in the church and the journey of it's advocates. It has set me to thinking. And that's a physically stressful, dangerous thing. If not for me, for you readers.
It's not a new thing for me to be around people who question methodology of traditional church or traditional thought. When I lived in the states I attended the church whose pastor was writing a book on the divergence of the church structure from the original New Testament church. He encouraged an intimate church format with an open mic, no pulpit, less formality. He wrote a manuscript on the subject, which he was looking to have published.
A year after knowing him, I began to associate with people who were involved in the "grace movement". To be honest with you, I have difficulty with such titles, but I suppose to some people definition is important. It makes it easy to categorize or pre-determine a set of beliefs. I didn't hang out with people because their beliefs alligned with mine. Circumstance just made it so...but I did come from a similar viewpoint.
One thing I noticed is that the phrase "They don't get IT" was often used about "non-grace movement" people. Like "it" was the arrival at something or the right thing to believe. I understood the frustration of forging what seemed like a change in thinking/understanding, while being met with resistance. And I was a quiet participant, so my frustration was not near the same as that of others who had felt the life-changing revelation of God's love and acceptance.
As I think about the foundation of what I learned then, it seems to be the first stone in the emergent church. Deconstruction of what we have been programmed to think and feel. Not that church has brainwashed us all. But we have in some ways taken what we assumed as the only way to behave and believe and peeled away the layers. We are deciding what is necessary and what is superfluous.
When I think of my perspective of the grace movement I remember the freedom of being reminded once again how much God loves and accepts me. The emergent church seems to say the same thing. They perhaps share that foundation. It becomes not about what we do, but what we don't do. It becomes about simplicity rather than protocol, if I may use those words.
The danger is the propensity to look at traditional believers as people who "don't get it". Like emergents have arrived. This is obviously not a new situation, because even I am smart enough to see the pattern from the other reformation groups. Now don't think I'm criticizing either the emergents or the traditionalists. Neither group has the answer. They have the right answer for them.
Perhaps in the forging of a new way what has gone before needs to be peeled off. Freedom and forum for expression of thought is essential to bring together those who are growing through the same process. As we do so though, respect for the diversity of all Christians should be paramount. And those who become so easily offended or yell for the defense of their beliefs need to recognize that there is room for all of us in the Kingdom. For now we see through a glass dimly. Sometimes it also clouds our view of each other through our intolerance. That's not grace.
First of all, I would like to preface this by saying that if you have recently written an article on either of these topics, I haven't got a clue. If you think this is about you or your blog, sorry to say that it isn't. Unless you're Darryl Dash.
Over a month ago Darryl wrote a piece that talked about postmodernism in the church and the journey of it's advocates. It has set me to thinking. And that's a physically stressful, dangerous thing. If not for me, for you readers.
It's not a new thing for me to be around people who question methodology of traditional church or traditional thought. When I lived in the states I attended the church whose pastor was writing a book on the divergence of the church structure from the original New Testament church. He encouraged an intimate church format with an open mic, no pulpit, less formality. He wrote a manuscript on the subject, which he was looking to have published.
A year after knowing him, I began to associate with people who were involved in the "grace movement". To be honest with you, I have difficulty with such titles, but I suppose to some people definition is important. It makes it easy to categorize or pre-determine a set of beliefs. I didn't hang out with people because their beliefs alligned with mine. Circumstance just made it so...but I did come from a similar viewpoint.
One thing I noticed is that the phrase "They don't get IT" was often used about "non-grace movement" people. Like "it" was the arrival at something or the right thing to believe. I understood the frustration of forging what seemed like a change in thinking/understanding, while being met with resistance. And I was a quiet participant, so my frustration was not near the same as that of others who had felt the life-changing revelation of God's love and acceptance.
As I think about the foundation of what I learned then, it seems to be the first stone in the emergent church. Deconstruction of what we have been programmed to think and feel. Not that church has brainwashed us all. But we have in some ways taken what we assumed as the only way to behave and believe and peeled away the layers. We are deciding what is necessary and what is superfluous.
When I think of my perspective of the grace movement I remember the freedom of being reminded once again how much God loves and accepts me. The emergent church seems to say the same thing. They perhaps share that foundation. It becomes not about what we do, but what we don't do. It becomes about simplicity rather than protocol, if I may use those words.
The danger is the propensity to look at traditional believers as people who "don't get it". Like emergents have arrived. This is obviously not a new situation, because even I am smart enough to see the pattern from the other reformation groups. Now don't think I'm criticizing either the emergents or the traditionalists. Neither group has the answer. They have the right answer for them.
Perhaps in the forging of a new way what has gone before needs to be peeled off. Freedom and forum for expression of thought is essential to bring together those who are growing through the same process. As we do so though, respect for the diversity of all Christians should be paramount. And those who become so easily offended or yell for the defense of their beliefs need to recognize that there is room for all of us in the Kingdom. For now we see through a glass dimly. Sometimes it also clouds our view of each other through our intolerance. That's not grace.
How strangely accurate
Once in a while I take those silly "personality" tests. They're not worth posting most of the time. But I can't believe the results of this one:
Freaky. One of the questions asked about blowing bubbles. How can you come up with this answer from that?
At least I'm not Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Yay!
...isn't it weird how the tests never come up with a negative description? Hmmmmm.......
| How You Life Your Life |
 |
How Do You Live Your Life?
Freaky. One of the questions asked about blowing bubbles. How can you come up with this answer from that?
At least I'm not Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Yay!
...isn't it weird how the tests never come up with a negative description? Hmmmmm.......
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Time constraints have prevented me from blogging some things that I would like. Stuff that would take longer than a couple minutes to write. That will come soon. For now, let me tell you about lunch.
So, I'm sitting at my work computer, eating while working. I had brought a fork, but not knife. You know how hard it is to tear up a chicken breast with a fork, without flicking pieces everywhere? In an attempt to not spread cooked chicken on the keyboard and monitor, I began to brainstorm about what could function as a knife. The pen seriously became an option...oh how gross.
So, I'm sitting at my work computer, eating while working. I had brought a fork, but not knife. You know how hard it is to tear up a chicken breast with a fork, without flicking pieces everywhere? In an attempt to not spread cooked chicken on the keyboard and monitor, I began to brainstorm about what could function as a knife. The pen seriously became an option...oh how gross.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Road not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
(Robert Frost)
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
(Robert Frost)
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Anticipation of the Blessed Event
The older I become, the more I get excited by Christmas. It never used to happen this way, but now I find the beginning of the season seductive in its celebrative aura. The lights, the colours, the beauty. As the season approaches I have a quiet sense of awe at its beauty, and a childish twittering in the heart.
I know that for so many people Christmas is a reminder of loss. Death of a loved one, of a marriage, mourning a family that never was, of financial destitution. Perhaps Christmas more than any other time, is bittersweet for mankind. Promises of peace fulfilled for some but not all. Man, that's not where I thought this post would go. I thought it would be happy, as my mood is about the season.
Perhaps it's a reminder to share with others. A smile. Money. A present. Serving food at a mission. A hat to a homeless person. The hope of Christ.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
"Put Your Lights On"
I've been waiting to do this post, though I didn't know what it would consist of until tonight. Thank you Matthew for the inspiration.
Last month James referred to a sermon about monsters. I found that sermon to be powerful. More so the video clip with the little girl, alone after bedtime, looking around her darkened room. I remember the feelings that she was dramatizing. Looking at the closet shapes; clothes shape-shifting in their black home. Wondering what was there that I couldn't see, as the images took on a look of animated features.
I remember being alone at home during the day and sitting with my feet up on the couch because I didn't want the almost other-worldly creature that might be under the couch to reach out and grab my ankles. I think that thought may have stemmed back to early lake experiences when my father would tell me the fish would bite my toes if I wasn't careful.
Here's a song I liked a few years ago:
Hey now, all you sinners
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you lovers
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you killers
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you children
Leave your lights on, you better leave your lights on
Cause there's a monster living under my bed
Whispering in my ear
There's an angel, with a hand on my head
She says I've got nothing to fear
There's a darkness living deep in my soul
I still got a purpose to serve
So let your light shine, deep into my home
God, don't let me lose my nerve
Lose my nerve
Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
Wo oh hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
Hey now, all you sinners
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you children
Leave your lights on, you better leave your lights on
Because there's a monster living under my bed
Whispering in my ear
There's an angel, with a hand on my head
She say's I've got nothing to fear
La illaha illa Allah
We all shine like stars
La illaha illa Allah
We all shine like stars
Then we fade away
Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture.
None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
....................................................................................
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because he first loved us.
God, show us your perfect love. Let it shine inside us so that the dark corners are filled with it. So that there's no room for monsters. That wherever we goes we know you are with us and that when we are afraid You are strong.
Last month James referred to a sermon about monsters. I found that sermon to be powerful. More so the video clip with the little girl, alone after bedtime, looking around her darkened room. I remember the feelings that she was dramatizing. Looking at the closet shapes; clothes shape-shifting in their black home. Wondering what was there that I couldn't see, as the images took on a look of animated features.
I remember being alone at home during the day and sitting with my feet up on the couch because I didn't want the almost other-worldly creature that might be under the couch to reach out and grab my ankles. I think that thought may have stemmed back to early lake experiences when my father would tell me the fish would bite my toes if I wasn't careful.
Here's a song I liked a few years ago:
Hey now, all you sinners
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you lovers
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you killers
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you children
Leave your lights on, you better leave your lights on
Cause there's a monster living under my bed
Whispering in my ear
There's an angel, with a hand on my head
She says I've got nothing to fear
There's a darkness living deep in my soul
I still got a purpose to serve
So let your light shine, deep into my home
God, don't let me lose my nerve
Lose my nerve
Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
Wo oh hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
Hey now, all you sinners
Put your lights on, put your lights on
Hey now, all you children
Leave your lights on, you better leave your lights on
Because there's a monster living under my bed
Whispering in my ear
There's an angel, with a hand on my head
She say's I've got nothing to fear
La illaha illa Allah
We all shine like stars
La illaha illa Allah
We all shine like stars
Then we fade away
Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture.
None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
....................................................................................
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
We love because he first loved us.
God, show us your perfect love. Let it shine inside us so that the dark corners are filled with it. So that there's no room for monsters. That wherever we goes we know you are with us and that when we are afraid You are strong.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Just a normal school day
So, it snowed. While walking Matthew across the school grounds we were throwing snow balls at each other all the way. I got hit in the head with a stray snowball the other kids were throwing at each other. You could almost hear them groan, waiting for my reaction. I said "Oh Man!", smiled and kept walking as I picked up another snowball to pelt Matthew with.
When we got to the class lineup and the fight continued, one rule-follower said "You're not allowed to throw snowballs at school". WHAT? Well, being a rule follower myself (and afraid of the authorities) I stopped.
But...when I picked Matthew up we waited for the kids to leave. It was just us and some other friends. We started in again. Soon enough I found myself in a knock-down snowball fight with 5 boys. And the other mom was rooting for them! Then she joined my side, and we had a fabulous laughing time with the kids.
It's sure great to take these kind of moments. The bruises almost make it worthwhile.
Thank goodness it doesn't snow much here.