Sunday, May 6, 2012

See it. (real post in a day or two...)

What do you think when you see this photo?


Because I think at this wedding,
people will laugh at the bride eating cake
people will smile and wonder at the groom who loved her
and, "you look beautiful," will have a slightly different tone.

Look at the image above,
compare it to the one below.


Its different.
I ponder this...




Monday, March 5, 2012

The Fear in Godliness and the Godlessness in Fear.

I’m coming the startling conclusion that no one is as cool as they’d like to be, and yet everyone is as close to the edge as they ever plan to be.  I mean, while it’s nice to think about “living dangerous” we’re quite happy to confine and define that phrase to mean not locking our cars at fast stops and watching the occasional pirated movie.  We are geared to seek out our own self safety and yet, we long to trust other than ourselves.

To explain…

So there’s this church.  A jolly church.  A jovial church.  In a word, they are a hipster church.
Now as clips from Rob Bell’s Nooma videos dance in your head let me shatter your, “Everything is Spiritual,” nostalgia to say, this is not Rob Bell’s church.  This is nowhere near Rob Bell’s church.  Apparently the classic 3 determinants of an, “Emergent,” are flawed! FLAWED I SAY!

  

Now observe, Pastor Bell.  We have our 3, clothes, media, bible facts.  These people are hip! They dress like the coolest of the cool, they have the snazziest websites (iphone apps to boot!), and all of their bible teachings are laced with interesting facts, 5 minute history lessons, and rhetorical questions.



Now observe, we have the imposter!  Note the snazzy, the clothes of our grandparents mixing with Christianese tattoos, but what?—what is this! Oddly, fundamentalism.


fun·da·men·tal·ism
noun
1.sometimes initial capital letter ) a movement in AmericanProtestantism that arose in the early part of the 20thcentury in reaction to modernism and that stresses theinfallibility of the Bible not only in matters of faith and moralsbut also as a literal historical record, holding as essential toChristian faith belief in such doctrines as the creation of theworld, the virgin birth, physical resurrection, atonement bythe sacrificial death of Christ, and the Second Coming.
2. the beliefs held by those in this movement.
3.strict adherence to any set of basic ideas or principles: thefundamentalism of the extreme conservatives.


Fundamentalism, and Emergentism don’t mix.  Since a picture says a thousand words let me show you








AND HERE IS THE IMPOSTER!



You see, they are cool.  They have cool clothes, they look unhappy, the girls don’t look afraid of boys, those boys look like grandpas.  Alcohol, and coffee!!! this is perfectly cool—but not.  Fundamentalist have a nasty habit of saying rather out of date things.  Things no one is even sure about.  They say stuff like, “these are the facts folks!” “this is the truth!” “You’re not living biblically,” and our favorite, “you are going to hell.”

Now let me explain.  Since my hipsters seem impostures to their own faith let me defined a more emergent view...

1. “Facts” are something from math and sciences.  If we learned anything from Dr. J.R. Wile’s homeschooled science curriculum we learned that “SCIENCE DOESN’T PROVE ANYTHING!” I believe that was an essay question…  And to the extent of being absolutely right, not very many people are willing to even argue that we can know everything.  Most would say we simply can’t.  We can make educated guesses, believe based on our experience, and have faith, but to ‘know’ is a different matter.

2.  “You’re not living biblically.” Either A) I don’t agree with what you think the bible means, or B) I’m not a Jew or Greek living before 60 D.A.  Your biblically and my biblically can be radically different.

3. “You are going to hell,” because you are the judge?  Oh, because God gave you a copy of the entrance form? I honestly hope that is what people mean by this statement because all that is left is the whole... “if you forgive…if you don’t forgive…(See John 20:23)” bit, and if that’s the grounds you’re damning people than you can just !@#$@%^$^%—

These are actually fairly well rounded arguments and widely accepted in the more progressive (non-fundamentalist) Christian world.  They have the same Jesus, both believe in salvation, both in gospel—and yes mom, they both believe in sin, and hell…to an extent…  What is comes down to is, how much we trust our own perception. 

Do you?

I mean really, do you?                   

As I’ve said before, if believing the right thing is the only thing that gets us into heaven or hell we’re still working.  We are earning our salvation by what we know the law to be.  If you’ve ever been wrong about something this is startling.  Because what if you are wrong?—what if you get something wrong but it was an accident?  How much stalk do we put into what we do?  In believing the HOLY BIBLE! and our infallible ability to discern this book?  How much faith do we put into our knowledge of the evils of dancing, smoking, and drinking? How much faith?

Have I painted a scary world for you?  That if YOU are the only person YOU can trust and YOU don’t even have faith in discerning if YOU are "working out your salvation" properly are we all DAMNED?

Yes.

Because if all we have is us,
  then we have no God,
and the Godless are truly damned.

So we try to create this lovely bubble.  Of “informed,” “discerned,” biblical interpretations that way we can make rules.  Rules that will assure we don’t have sex with the wrong people, we don’t get drunk, we don’t step out of bounds with that weird Holy Spirit, we don’t “disorder” the worship services, and NEVER question Church authority.  If we could only make those rules God will always be happy with us and we will all go to heaven, and all the people who don’t, can go to hell. J

This hasn't ever happened before...really...

"Look I know you're pissed Mo, try not to drop this set.." 












"Now see here kids, we've narrowed down those 10 commands to 613 rules!"

"Please read through our brief doctrinal statement"












We don’t need a god when we have a rule book.  Like Israelites, because they were afraid to die, sent Moses to deal with the Darkness and the Cloud on Mount Sinai. (See Exodus 20.)  They were afraid, and so they asked for:

Rules.

Rules are God at arm’s length, they maybe the truth but there is no love.  They are instruments reduced to clanging and crashing, because the love that makes them beautiful is nowhere to be found. (See Corintians 13)

And why isn’t He anywhere to be found?

I think, in part, it's why Jesus spoke in parables. (Mark 4:11-12)

Because the truth is always to be revealed in love.  In relationship to the God, not to get close to him, but to be made visible when he comes better and better into view.  Without love, giving your coat—walking the extra mile—the beautiful remembrance of Christ's death in communion is nothing but a rule and a curse.

We long for our creator,
to trust, but learning to trust is scary. 

We are afraid.

And so I conclude:  while we want to want the deep darkness.  The thunder and lightning, the mountain top with the omnipotent, is far too scary.  We must trust in the darkness of God, or be left as fools making rules on the things we claim our eyes can see in spite of the darkness.  We are blind and in need someone to lead us, yet that trust is almost more terrifying than groveling in our own incapacity.

"Jesus loves me this I know..."--sung no one in that crowd.


I sit in a crowd of supposedly intellectual, relevant the culture, young and energetic, thinkers, to hear someone say, “that sounds almost like Grace covers everyone's sin, but we KNOW this can’t be true…so what else could it mean?”  I sit.  I watch. My heart breaks.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I grow weary.


And we, like sheep have gone astray.

I grow weary.

I grow weary of the bitterness in the hearts of broken people.  Bitterness that finds that the only common denominator of ‘good pastor’ and ‘bad pastor’ is ‘pastor.’  I grow weary as we endlessly quibble over words and lose all interest in their meaning. 
“too religious,”
“too unbiblical,”              
“too disrespectful,”
“obviously legalistic,”

 All a game of making everyone happy, and everyone’s god similar enough to cheer about—to link arms and say,
“HUZZAH! And Amen, down with those sons of bitches!  Down with those children—they knew what they were doing! YIPPEEE, down with those evil men, with those children, beat them! Kill them!  We all agree they deserve it!”

There is no unjust judge in the heat of the moment,
There is no shortage of rocks in the gaze of an adulterer

We all want to cheer and be a part of the home team.  Or ‘the’ team, since a discussion of jersey color would quickly reveal we can’t agree upon whose “home team” we’re talking about.


We hate a petty myriad of things.
Control,               judgment,           intolerance,       doubt,
All ironic negatives of actions we are so devout towards,
Covenant,           justice,                 truth,                    journey,

We want villains to fight, words to be bad guys, --something more unifying than grace.  We want two dimensional characters like the wicked ones of fairytales. 


We want rules to break them.  “We do what we do not want to do,” because we want more than anything to ‘do.’  We want to do because we cannot stand what we have become.  We cannot simply be because our very being is tainted.  Not the in ‘evil’ of our beloved “bad guys,” no, much worst, we are flesh; we are more. 


We are hungering, aching, living, dying, laughing, crying, beings and we are failing at it miserably.


We are clawing for a goodness we suppose means fighting badness.  We must try.  We must try fall after fall, to DO something better than our BEing.  We must fight because, had we a moments silence, the torment of our split souls, our good mixing with the filth of our bad, would surely drive us mad.
                We have cried out, but learned to nurse our own wounds.
                                We have yearned, but met with silence we sought the love of another.
                                                We have fallen.




There is no one sinless in the eyes of The Rabbi,
but there are no stones in the hands of Grace.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Christmas is Fake.

Christmas is Fake.  There are lights—and annoying green wires.  There are pretty Christmas trees—and an agonizing trip to pick one out a Homedepo.  Christmas Eve service?—broken projector, singing to CD, candles burning your hand, and a lot of awkward hugs.
Christmas is something we do.  We play our part.  We survive Christmas.
But on December 24, 2011, there are also things quite real.  The fear of 2012 (not because I think the world is imploding), the life this year has brought, and an uncanny process of tomorrow.  It’s all in future and past, yet so, so, real. 
Beyond the fuzzy, and the feeling, there is oddly love and God.
Love and God.
Aren’t they supposed to be fuzzy?  Aren’t they supposed to make us feel happy and warm and carefree?  They do.  But in the misted of fake and fuzzy of Santamas, the invisible and strange God is something of a comfort.  My fights with God can wait for tomorrow, I’m quite happy to know we can have them.  I’m happy to marvel at the story I find myself written into, into the life I never thought mine to live.
A good writer tells a story, where the only glorifying they make of themselves is how invisible they are.  How through their witty narratives, effortless romances, and twisting plots in the end the reader is in love with the characters.  In turn the love for the writer is different. This love is a knowing.  As we read the pages of a skillfully crafted work the uncanny feeling that we have walked a path cut for us.  That we know the writer by his words and yet he knows us because we have read them.  There is the strange feeling the writer understands us, because we understand him, or rather, he has understood us because he has helped us to understand him.  Much more it is the memory, the love of the revisited pages bringing us back to old places.  We love these memories—stories—and yet it’s ease makes it harder to appreciate the triple edit, the quibble over a single word, the crafting, editing, plight of the writer.  And that is his glory.

Of God and love,
Nothing more kind,
nothing more good.
A kindness,
A grace
--compassion!
To walk a great road
and
to not walk alone. 

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Graciously

I am the air in space,
no matter what you give I take.
I take and take,
across the abyss.
My soul consumes all every last wish.

I’m tired of my own two hands. 
Turning things to gold,
souls at that!
I am sick of being the one,
who breaks as ask for mercy upon,
a tattered remnant of what once I was.
Untouchable, or try and see. 
I am the shatterer who makes you give,
I am the taker for which you live,
I am the wretch which once was lost,
Now found, I simply wander on and off.
 I am a child with little hope,
I ask today and tomorrow for more. 
I am the greatest,
most insolent
failure,
I am loved and should never hope for a favor.
 I am a hole within the sea,
trying to drink all the grace around me.
            But even that I find,
                                                I’m failing, 
                        Graciously.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Needing to Need "Needs"

We don’t know what we are.  We are as divided as ever before, and yet unisex.  We have been fighting for freedom for so long we beg to be put into boxes, if only to fight out of them.  We are men and women.  And everyone is so damn sure, we are from different planets.

See, it’s because men are men, and they don’t speak much English.  In fact it really bothers them, so in order for you women to expect your man to put up with all that English you speak you have to trade it for something else…something he wants…err um, go ask your mom what that is.  The main thing is to make him think he’s in charge.  Let’s face it you’re basically manipulating his perception, but making him think he’s in charge seems to work.  He gets to tell you what to do, and you get to tell him your feelings, this is respect.

And men, we will keep it short.  Everyone knows women are petty. But it’s worth the bull**** because not only will you get ‘what you want,’ your laundry will get done too.  So try to stay awake for a few conversations and sound sympathetic.  That is love.

FAIL.

(This is the most ungraceful blog ever, I apologize.  Really it should be a paper I’m too lazy to write.)

We call this “meeting each other’s needs,” this is more like the current economic crisis with China and the U.S. 

See China is like America’s woman.  She bought our debt and in return America took her plastic-factory-crap.  For a while it worked, America wouldn’t like something China did, and the trade slowed down, but because China is more dependent on America for the sake of the starving factory kids, she usually listened.  In returned America got the goods.  After a while, China bought so much of America’s bull**** that she decided she’d throw some weight around next time America tried to manhandle her.
--Now pretend you’re a pastor, what would you tell China and America.

It seems today all that’s needed for a happy marriage is good international policy.  Mutually Assured Destruction, the ability to give and take, to measure the value of losses, a healthy supply of goods, and a crap load of B.S.—I mean, cultural sympathy.

If men and women have needs as described by a lot of people, we are merely consumers of each other.  We are living in 2 dimensions that smash awkwardly together, feeding off of one another.  We lack a personal purpose outside of hedonism, making ourselves happy out of the use of another person. Love.

Can we be human, and yet different?

Is it so impossible to think that we can work together, side by side, without a power struggle?  Can two totally different beings become one?

Because they have strengths and weaknesses that the other doesn’t, but the mere fact that they are strong and weak seems to imply a scale universal. 
We are not totally devoid of some unifying light. 
We are different, but the same.  We can be weak because the other is strong, relatively.

Relatively, relationally, relationship

I think instead of “needs,” we need purpose,
We need to need each other’s strengths, and to be useful.
                        We need to need each other.

So when we’re talking more biblically speaking we have love, and respect.  It ripples through the pages repeating itself over and over. 

Love, and Respect.

However I highly doubt Paul has read anything about the “needs” of men and women.  I think generally speaking, in a culture of buying brides, it’s hardly a question running in his mind.  Instead, we have a reminder.  Because first and foremost he’s talking about the church in Eph 5:32.  This is a reminder as to how their marriages could mimic Christ and the Church. 

Because in the mist of surviving,
          in child raising,
                             Roman occupation,
racism,                                     religious uproars,           war,
                             poverty,                                   a new thing called church,
we are reminded,
          to love the one we were given
and to respect them, no matter how dark things are around us.

Because using each other’s strengths, means there will be weaknesses to cover.
            And because there is always one more thing wrong in the world, love can’t wait.

Instead of men only gaining “respect” a better word might be trust, as in, to trust their ability in the relationship which (in a survival setting) tends to be out front for reasons of physical ability, children’s needs, and ability to provide. This is also supported in the Greek word “kephale” or “head” referring to the husband as head of a house hold. "Head" today seems to have the connotation of supreme ruler, but the term was also used militarily as in “the person out front leading a charge.” Personally, I think far more often we forget to trust Christ to care about the church than to for get he's God...unless you're a liberal... The challenge Paul brings the women of the church is to trust the only person running to her defense, to rely on the only person in their lives who can go out in front in a society where they were in danger.

In a world where women were powerless the reminder is blaring, to know the difference between them and him

It is to trust and give, when every hit taken in life seems to tell her otherwise.  Likewise, it is a reminder to love, because that wife could be the only constant good in his life.  Because he’s not an island unto himself no matter how many other things seem to fail and betray him in this world.  It is the reminder he is not alone.  Love, because time good enough for love will never come.  There will never be enough peace in the world to satisfy before he’s ready to take that plunge.  Because like it or not those two people need each other to survive.  They need to work together; they need to go through life together.  Much more it can be a real, good, and full life.

He will refuse to under prioritize her, even in the face of chaos.  She will hold fast to him, when everything presses her to close herself off.

While we remain as men and women, merely pacifying each other’s “needs” an yet having no purpose in life, we are doomed to keep score.  Everyone is finding creative ways to make the other feel useful, valuable, and strong in some area of their meaningless existence.  We live pointlessly and can only expect to feel unfulfilled.  While the rest of our comfy lives scream for a reason to exist, we somehow assume this won’t affect our relationships.

I am falling,
swirling to and from obscurities.
Lost in my own empty contentment
longing with my heart's over flow.

I am eternal and changing,
redesigning or am I erasing?
To discovering or remember,
something lasts forever.

I am a kite in the wind.
I am a bird in a storm.

All the colors in my hair
growing ever more aware
of misery, and the depth of my own loss.

As the years pattern my skin
I weave cloth to hing in,
to adorn
to address
the ever unraveling mess
of me.

To glorify
and rediscover,
lost in selfish wonder,
in the arms of the Other,
I am I live.

Days, and nights
it was seen as good.
My life
pixelated.

I am my profile picture on facebook.