Church Shopping

Dear God,
   This past Sunday I attended a new church. I even stepped out of social comfort zone and met new people. Like, A LOT of new people. But I enjoyed myself and had my best friend with me. But I've been thinking...
   Since I've started asking, "Where do you want me to work?" I thought I should start asking, "Where do you want me to attend church?" Especially now that I have the opportunity to visit multiple churches, I don't want to pick any random ol' church. They're everywhere! I want to know where I can best serve and worship you. Where is that?
   If I ever get frustrated looking for a church, or worried that I'm too socially awkward to fit in (although, if there's any one place where socially awkward people reside, it's church). I don't want to miss out on the community that will give as much as take; and a community that rightfully expects the same of me.
   ...anyway, yeah.
   Help me not be so cynical when I walk into a sanctuary (whether a rented hall or historical site). You know how cynical I can be.
   Thank you.
   I love you.

Colored

Bad Blogger

I didn't blog yesterday or Saturday. I'm so sorry. I wasn't busier than usual I just... How dare I?! On Saturday, I was four days away from an entire month of blog posts. Next month will have to be an entire month of blog posts straight. I'm sorry. So, I guess today will be a threefer. Yesterday was supposed to be a twofer. Ah, c'est la vie.

what was supposed to be Saturday:
I read all of Galatians that morning because I realized that I'd hardly touched the Bible all week. I've already gone through James 15 times this past month, I wanted to read another letter: Galatians seemed most appropriate. A lot of people read Galatians and are amazed at Paul's explanation of his transition from persecutor to humble servant. It's difficult not to notice that. Really, it's a running theme in all of Paul's works.

Now that I look at it, Galatians is like Paul's version of James'...James, but it has a different twist. Instead of Paul writing that faith without deeds is dead, Paul writes that works of the Law is like old skin, and faith is new. Way back when he was Saul, he worked the Law perfectly, but "For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse: for it is written, 'Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and go them.' Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for 'The righteous shall live by faith.' But the law is not faith, rather, 'The one who does them shall live by them.' Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us [what we commemorate every Good Friday]...'"

Like James, Paul doesn't suggest that one can be done or had without the other, but he emphasizes faith because all he had before was works. I guess after 'coming to faith' he had a greater reason to work.

what was supposed to be Sunday:
I didn't sing any hymns that I recognized in church. I also attended a new church and stepped out of my social boundary skills so that I could meet A LOT of new people. What?! But!- here's a song from Tenth Avenue North called Beloved. If you want to know what inspired Mike Donehey to write this song (on the first album) click here.


and today:
The following isn't the result of a writing challenge. I think I wrote this two years ago. (Two years?!)

"oh, shit!" she yelled. "oh, shit!" she yelled. "...oh, shit!" she yelled and that's all she would keep yelling if he wouldn't leave the room, and she wants him to leave the room. 'poisonous apparition', she thinks, 'hasn't he poisoned me enough?'
   "you are being dramatic."
   "oh, shit!"
   he clamped her mouth closed with his sweaty hand. "cease." he said. "desist."
   'oh, shit.' she thought.
   "whatever is the matter?"
   "i'd thought i'd lost you!" she mumbled into his hand. he didn't ask her to repeat herself; he'd felt every word and was sorry she was suddenly so afraid of him.
   "why did you think you lost me?"
   "well, i don't know, let's see. oh, now i know: because you left!" she punched his arm to no avail. "you left without saying goodbye! here you are without saying 'hello!' you left! no reason! no explanation! no note! no phone call every now and then! no facebook message! you left! at many points in your lostness i thought you'd died! you- you left! where's my goodbye? you owe me a goodbye."
   "goodbye."
   "i won't accept it."
   "why?"
   "because you didn't mean it! say it like you mean it!"
   he paused. he took in a deep breath. "goodbye."
   "goodbye to you too!" she crossed her arms and turned away from him.
   he stepped outside of the room, left through the front door closing it behind him. he then knocked three times and she answered.
   "hello," he said.
   "hello! where the hell did you go?"
   "i left."
   "to where, damnit?!" she threw a pillow at him, but the pillow left her hand too late and landed at his feet instead of hitting his face at the earlier projection she'd intended.
   "you won't believe me."
   she looked at him and stormed back into the room. he followed swiftly behind her. "i won’t believe you?" she picked up another pillow. "i won't believe you?" she sat down. "i won't believe him!" she yelled at the ceiling.
   "i've already established that."
   "me? the girl who lets you do whatever you want. me? the girl who's patched up your ripped pants and bleeding scabs every time without interrogation. me? the girl who's cried at least once a week, hoping you were all right. me? this girl won't understand?"
   he bit his lip. "only once a week?"
   she threw the other pillow at him and this time did not miss his face. "oh, shit," she murmured. "i can't believe you're alive." she fell onto her chair and pulled her knees up close to her chest. "you're alive."
   the man got off his own seat and knelt at the young woman's trembling side. "i am alive. i'm sorry you thought i was dead."
   "yes. yes, i did. i thought you were more than dead. i thought you were having fun without me!"
   the man smirked and laughed. "while my adventures away from you were exciting beyond comparison," she shot him a look. "although i'm sure yours are just as exciting—all my adventures have proven one thing."
   "what's that?"
   "that i miss you."
   the young woman perked up and smiled. "you had to go on stupid, crazy adventures to figure out that you'd miss me? you couldn't take a personal holiday like a normal person and miss me? communication included?"
   "me? a normal person? me? the boy who's manipulated kings into believing me their lost prince. me? the boy who's planted dandelions in the amazon and fed poisonous scones to british intelligence? me? a normal person taking a normal holiday to figure out the most natural and inspiring thing is that i miss you?"
she bit her lip. "you only missed me?"
   he kissed her gently and quickly on her mouth and loved the feel of her shy smile. "no," he said. "i more than missed you." he took her hand. "now, it's time to go to confession."
   "excuse me?"
   "yes! you've just kissed an apparently dead man and said 'shit' at least ten times!"
   "don't forget 'hell' and 'damnit'." she mumbled.
   "off to confessional! christians are not supposed to touch, let alone kiss, dead bodies; nor are christians supposed to curse."
   "yeah, well," she said pulling on her sweater. "you make me feel human."
   "and that is why i have missed you."
   "dante says there’s a special circle in hell for you."
   "and which circle is that?"
   the woman paused and laughed. "my heart."
   "you cliché little she-devil."
   "ah, apparently you missed the clichés, you brazen bard!"
   "i thought you were almost going to call me a bastard."
   "i've filled my daily curse quotient."

Shoelaces

A lack of experience doesn't necessarily mean a lack of experience. On a small scale, some of my students don't know how to tie their own shoes. I, therefore, have the responsibility to tie it for them to prevent them tripping over their own feet. But I can't tie their shoes forever for two reasons (1) they'll have to grow up sooner or later (2) I only have, at most, 8 hours a week with these kids- there isn't much I can properly teach in that short time.

Still, with their imaginations as running wild as they do I'm surprised they haven't imagined a different way to tie their shoelaces. In their minds they can rob banks, or be the policemen who catch the robbers who rob banks. They can play house, pretend to be cats and dogs; climb mountains; score winning goals, but they're not creative enough to tie shoes?

Is it because it's too practical a task? It's not whimsical enough to use your imagination on?

I mean, when I was learning how to tie my shoes, I cried a lot of tears. A lot. I didn't receive my gold sticker for, like, ages.

I don't have a solution, but what would it take to transfer all that knowledge- all that imagination- to more 'practical' problems?

On a large scale, I was a never pleased when I knew that the school hired a teacher who didn't have a teaching degree, just a doctorate the field, or had a couple television shows-how's that so different from teaching a bunch of high schoolers?-hardly any sharks there. If its experience we want these children to grow up and have, it begs the question: what kind of experience?

Getting a high school diploma is a kind of experience, but surely it's not the only one. It wasn't until at least a century ago, and apparently, the world's much older than that- 6,000 or 30,000,000,000, a century's not very long.

That won't stop me from tying my students' shoe laces- seriously, they could hurt themselves if they trip! But I regret the day they think they can do anything, and are thwarted with, "Not Enough Experience."

"Experience" is too often equated with "qualifications": that undermines how much of an individual's life is truly out of his or her hands. She can get into RIT, Stevens, and Columbia, but she can't afford it nor does she 'qualify' for enough scholarships so she has to settle for community school. It may not undermine her determination and willpower, but it certainly undermines any potential prospects she could have had had she been able to afford RIT, Stevens, or Columbia in the first place.

We are responsible to make these choices, and take the consequences that come with those choices, but I think I need to stop imagining that every person has a multitude of choices from which to pick. Most of life choices are a fork in the road, not an overflowing buffet.

I don't know. I was just talking about having imagination enough to tie shoelaces in a different way, but I guess that doesn't look very good on a professional resume.

Eh, give and take what you can.

...but if you find out a different way to tie shoelaces, I know I'll be all ears.

ecumenical

i am unable to understand what you are saying.

i know you're speaking; i can hear every syllable you enunciate. 

i know. 

you're speaking.

but i cannot comprehend the ideas your words are forming.

"ecumenical" you say.

i heard you.

you spoke plainly.

spoke as plainly as if "ecumenical" were "ffffffffff-".

do you know what "ecumenical" means?

who told you it was a bad thing?

i don't know that i know what "ecumenical" means!

is it by your tone that i'm supposed to understand

that all things ecumenical are to be synonymous with all things avoidable?

ffffffffff-!

four letter words have certainly expanded. 

i'm certainly more amused;

definitely more culturally aware. 

because i've the taste for outright rebellion.

i rock and roll with ecumenists: the new battle to fight. 

hanging with druggies? 

so. yesterday. 

Responsibility.

Dear God,
   Easter's just passed.
   A slight panic attack awoke me Easter Sunday, then I realized: it's Easter Sunday. My panic attack completely dissipated when I realized it was the official anniversary of your Resurrection. I would like to relieve myself of panic attacks more often than just the reminder of Easter. As cheesy as it is, Easter should affect my every day.
   I don't know that my life would be easier to deal with, or that I'd be happier. Maybe I'd make better decisions. Ask better questions. For instance, I suddenly realized instead of begging you to "pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease give me a job" I should ask, "Where do you want me to work?" Because I have applied and applied and applied (like millions of other wandering twentysomethings) and have worried endlessly about tomorrow, but even non-religious folk will tell you, "All you have is today. Now." Right? Look at the lilies of the fields. Are they not dressed more finely than King Solomon? Yes, indeed, and they pay no bills- perhaps only owned by they who do.
   I know I still have responsibilities to pay taxes, and bills, and gas, and, you know, nourishment, but I don't want these things to be a chore, or something to dread.
   I have no doubt, God, that you will provide. I ask that you provide sooner and faster, but still...all in your time, isn't it? All things in your time. I must still have something to learn during this waiting period. I guess, technically, it's not a waiting period because I have no idea of anticipating anything special. Besides, I'm sure that as soon as I get a job I'll start waiting for my own apartment or home.
   My list of wants just won't end.
   Anyway, God, I love you.

because spring took its time to get here.