What to do with this blog?

I have felt for awhile now that I want to write more. However, I yet to develop the discipline of intentional, thoughtful, well crafted blogging. I have loosely been keeping this blog updated for 9 months. During these last 9 months I have felt lost on the direction this blog is going. Ramblings of my life are insightful for me, but really don't have the level of impact I would like to offer to my readers, whoever you may be. Without compromising the commitment I have made to write for myself first, I am extending an invitation to my readers. I invite you to give suggestions of topics, questions, conversations which you would like me to address. I have a few ideas, but would love to hear from you.

What's in a name?

I have always resented not being a junior. It wouldn't be so bad if I had a completely different name as my dad, but I don't have a totally different name. No, I have the same name....only 5 little letters longer. Those 5 letters have defined me time and time again. I felt like my name epitomized my relationship with my dad. I was not the son he wanted. I was not good enough to be given his name. Like he wanted me to have it, but then, when he saw me, held me, he saw that I wasn't going to be strong enough to bear his name. So, he made me a little lower. And I have always carrying with me the knowledge that I wasn't able to follow in his steps through my name. My name, which is similar to his, only not.

Flash forward 29 years. Past my wounds of not having him around. Past the resentment that I held toward his new family. Past the confusion and anger I had toward a punk kid that stole my dad's heart. Past the bitterness I carried with me knowing that my dad chose that kid to give his name to. Beyond all that and more to the present.

I now see my dad in a different light. I now see him as a man, a mere broken, confused man. Not the superhero of my dreams. I see him as a man that I am unsure I want to emulate. For while he did chose my half-brother to give his name to, he also abandoned him as he abandoned me. That act among others is why I am proud not to have his name. I don't want to take his identity. No, I am holding out for something better. I am holding out for a stronger man to call dad. A man that doesn't run when it hurts, but a man that runs to me when I hurt.

I am beginning to call God by the name Abba, daddy.

The heart of a man

I am reading "Wild at Heart" again for the first time. To be honest the last few times I have tried to pick it up I didn't get it. The heart of a man is wild, Eldridge says. Men long for danger, adventure, a beauty to rescue. It all sounded so....not me. Yet........

While in Seattle, I have been befriended one man in particular. He and I have gotten to know each other, talking about life, school, dreams, family, our hearts. He is a recent graduate of Mars Hill Graduate School where I have been thinking of pursuing my schooling. One thing he mentioned of Mars Hill kind of saddened me.

He said that after completing the program, he knows more about what it means to be a woman, than he does a man.

To explain a little, the school is a proponent of the line of thought that Christianity has wounded and discriminated against women for most of it's existence. One of it's focuses is to redeem women, freeing them to do all that God has called them to do. That being said, a lot of the practical teachings are targeted toward empowering women and fighting against reinforcing the idea of women being subordinate to men. Thus my friend knew better how to be a woman, but was lacking in how to grab ahold of his masculinity. Though he did admit that maybe part of being a man is protecting and honoring women.

I understand and applaud MHGS for their work in redeeming women, but personally need to learn how to be a man.

I remember one afternoon when I was a kid watching Oprah. Pathetic I know; a boy watching Oprah after school. The topic was gender roles. There was some sort of checklist to see how you identified with other men or women. I was more feminine than masculine according to Oprah. Now I know that shouldn't define me, but at the time I was deeply confused. Maybe the fact that I was watching Oprah should have clued me in on something.

I share that story to say that I don't have a clue what it means to be a man. I suspect a lot of young men are in this same position. We have a generation that hasn't had a dad present. Or those that are lucky enough to have a dad, most dads are so emotionally distant and confused about masculinity themselves that they don't know how to pass along anything to their boys.

Maybe that's why we have so many twenty somethings that are nothing more than overgrown adolescents.

I am sure there are more contributors to this phenomenon than merely lack of good role models, but that has to be a large factor. Men are bored. Men don't have self confidence to conquer the world. We have been tamed and now our culture suffers the consequences.

More and more young men are staying in college longer. Graduates are prolonging choosing their careers by going on to graduate school. Those are are in the work force come home from working to waste away hours at a time killing their friends in the latest video or computer game. My computer is being a pain at the moment, but I might try to look up stats for all this soon.

Where are the men? Where are the mentors, the dads, the grandads?

I went to a worship gathering yesterday. A young, hip, emerging type service aimed at reaching the younger generations. It was nice, classy, sleek. Good music, sharp production. Lots of young twenty somethings. No grey hairs. Where are the grey hairs? We have an epidemic in our culture and the church is adding to this problem by creating separate times of worship for younger audiences. That's great, but how then do we integrate the generations back into being a body together.

Paul, Peter, and other authors in Scripture address the issue of mentorship. Us young men need guidance. I need guidance. I have no idea where to go to understand how to be a man. So, I again pick up "Wild at Heart." I pray that this time, I may have the ears to hear and the eyes to see what Eldredge is writing. I pray that I would also keep my eyes open to men I would like to follow.

Mars Hill Church

So I visited the ever famous Mars Hill Church last week. (The Seattle one, not the Grand Rapids one) I have been a mild fan of Mark Driscoll. Not agreeing with all he says, but respecting a lot of his stances on some issues. I have listened to a few of his talks and browsed some of his books. I could very much see why he is growing in popularity. So, before I left Seattle, I wanted to see with my own eyes what made Mars Hill so great.


Honestly, after attending a service there, I didn't know what the big deal was. In fact I didn't like much of the service.


Now, before I continue, I have to preface this with what has been going on in my life. I just finished the book, "Jim and Casper go to Church", where a Christian and an atheist visit and critique various churches across the country. I was also asked by one of the pastors of the church that was hosting me in Seattle to critique their church, which I found a very hard thing to do. But after getting in that mode, I have found it hard to get out of the mode of viewing the church service with a critical eye. Couple this critical nature with weeks of people telling me how I don't want to go to Driscoll's church; that he is nothing more than a fundamentalist bully and I am sure I was completely slanted before I even stepped off the bus into Ballard.


Nonetheless, I wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to come to my own opinion on the phenomenon of Driscoll and Mars Hill Church. So, I stepped off the bus in the Seattle neighborhood of Ballard and made my way to Mars Hill Church.


First impressions? The building didn't look to be much of a church. I wasn't sure I was even in the right place. But I soon saw a sign and realized that I was in the right place. It looked like an old warehouse. Two men, the bouncer type stood by what appeared to be a garage door. It was too dark to see what was inside, and the men kind of scared me, so I quickly followed a crowd into a smaller door. There was a small visitor booth and what appeared to be a bookstore tucked into one of the corners. Opposite the little corner bookstore, was what appeared to be the entrance to the auditorium. I headed in as I was already late and was greeted by a young girl that gave me a bulletin. It kind of surprised me that she would be the only person to "voluntarily" say hello to me. I don't know how organic the greeting was however, as it was obvious she was the assigned greeter. I made my way into a much smaller auditorium than I pictured for such a news worthy church.


Like I said, I was a few minutes late, so I will give the benefit of the doubt to not being greeted before the service, though after the service I will get to later. I will also stay away from the critiquing the opening music as I walked in during the last song. After the music, however, we were greeted by a overly excited announcer. He gave a few announcements and welcomed us. He gave the usual request for us to stand and greet our neighbors. Which after reading "Jim and Casper", I look at in a different light. Casper posses the question of why should people have to be asked to say hello to someone. Shouldn't it happen organically. Well, even in the church we are people that don't like to say "hi".


There was some more music, which I really can't remember, but I do remember that I didn't recognize. That isn't a bad thing. I love music that I don't know. This is just to say that I really don't have many comments about the music.


Then the moment of anticipation, Mark Driscoll came to give his awaited message. I thought he was a wonderful teacher, but I didn't think he was a wonderful preacher. I didn't feel like he provided a space for the congregation to meet with God. He was also extremely confident and sure of what he knew. The isn't necessarily bad, but it is curious. In a city that prides itself in uncertainty, how is a man that knows it all and makes sure everyone else knows he knows it all so successful?

I loved the content. He spoke on Jesus, how could you not love the content. However, I thought it was too academic. The passages he used (Isaiah 6, John 1, Phil 2:5 and following) are passages of poetry that I have long loved. I found them beautiful passages to use in a culture full of artisans. However, he took such a ridged and firm stand on them as he "unpacked" them (a phrase that he used over and over again) that I felt they lost the beauty that I so loved.

It's getting late, so I will quickly sum up the rest. Communion was chaotic. No instruction for visitors. If I, a seasoned church goer, was confused about what was going on, I can only imagine what a new comer thought. We went forward and took bread and wine or juice from two other bouncer types that stared us down. Nothing was said. These two men merely intimidated me as I was breaking bread with fellow believers in the most uncomfortable communion time I ever had. Music was playing at this time. Though instead of adding to the mood and experience of reflecting on the message or the communion time, I felt the music was distracting. It was loud and the constant pulsation of the bass was irritating.

After the service I hung around as they were having serving out ice cream. I walked around and noticed that the entrance I used was the side or the back entrance. The dark hallway was a cafe style room where they dished out the ice cream and where people gathered and socialized. Again no one said a word to me.

Overall I felt disappointed. I have heard and somewhat believed all the hype of Driscoll. He was a great teacher, expounding wonderfully on scripture. However, I didn't feel like he ushered us in the presence of God. It felt more like one of my Bible classes than a church.

Good Morning

Listening to Yellow Deli music. Drinking coffee. Catching up with old friends and family. Goodtimes.

God is pro-life. Why aren't his people.

Pro-life. I have come to really hate that word. Like so many other words, it has lost it's meaning. It has become to describe a stance on merely one small issue regarding the complexities of life.

Life. Beautifully tragic word. It takes on so much meaning given the context.

I wonder though if these two words really have much to do with each other. Pro-life and life. Sometimes they even seem like polar opposites.

When has the church gone out of their way to help a mother that is put in the position to choose. More often than not, those in the church judge and condemn mothers to be, instead of offer them a way out.

Taking it out of the abortion controversy, when is pro-life used in regard to war? Death penalty? Euthanasia? Or any other issue. Can one be a supporter of war and also be pro-life?

Some may say, "But those are the enemies. It's better they die, than we die."

There we go again. Resurrecting an us and them mindset. What if the world was always "we"?

The other day I was walking through Olympic Sculpture Park in Seattle. They have two pictures, one titled "us", and the other "them". The picture "us", is a plethora of cartoon people. The picture "them", is nothing but a black circle. We don't care about "them". "They" are __________ (fill in the blank). Do we know "them"? Have we ever taken the time to get to know "them"?

Then when I turned to corner and walked to the small cafe, I saw something that really moved me. I saw a whole wall filled with the same cartoon people. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, people...all of them us.

All of them filled with life.

All of them God's creation.