Open your eyes

Your face is the only face on the planet that you can not see with your own eyes.

There is profound truth in that statement. It's just too early in the morning to unpack it for you right now. But humility is a good place to start. If we are each so damn special, or better than others, why can't we do something as special as see our own face?

The comfort of ignorance: a lament

So before last week I had no idea what Nickelsville was. All that changed when Thursday night as I went to sit in with the homeless tent city Nicklesville in South Seattle. Seattle, as with all cities in the States, has a high homeless population. While this is nothing new, what is new is the rate at which homelessness around the country is growing.

This economic struggle that has hit the country has forced more and more out of their homes and onto the streets. Some, like those living in Nickelsville, are coming up with creative ways to not only deal with the issue, but also try to end the issue. It is a group of homeless that have grouped together to bring safety and stability to a very scary way of life. Nickelsville provides a sense of community to people that have nothing.

I got the chance to talk at length with one of their head volunteers this weekend. He was going to try to have me come out to visit tonight to meet some of the people and hear their stories. Unfortunately that feel through with all the publicity that came out of last week's events. Although Jeff is going to try to see about having me visit sometime before I leave Seattle.

Talking with Jeff, I understood that these were not just random people he felt pity for. No, these were friends and family. They ministered to him as much or more than he ministered to them. As he told story after story about friends that were living in tents, I sat in awe. Jeff was one of the few blessed souls. One of the few that have the blessing of living a life without an "us and them" mentality. The homeless aren't people to be scared of, or people to push off. They are, period. They are people. I am slowly beginning to understand the horrors that come about when we adopt an "us vs. them" mentality. When we begin to view the world and the things in it as something to own and possess rather than tools to use to better ourselves and others, all kinds of evil erupts.

I have always been drawn to the picture in Acts of a church that shared everything as people had need. We have an amazing story of these new followers of Jesus selling homes, and distributing wealth. Without any regard to who owned what, people gave people took. And all were equal. I have always read that and heard that preached, but never have I seen anything that looks like that.

That is until a friend gave me his car.

That one act blew my world. No longer could I live in the mindset of those living around me where they worked to buy things they didn't need. No longer could I consider what I held in my possession to by solely mine. If someone else needed what I had been entrusted to more than me, it my not only my privilege, but my obligation to the rest of the world to serve them by paying forward what was given to me.

Given. I like that word. So much less prideful than earned. One doesn't earn a pay check. No, they are given money. It isn't their right. They aren't owed anything. Except the right to die. We are have that right. But even then, death can be an opportunity to give. Consider those who give their lives to save others.

When we view life through "give" rather than "earn" the world gets flipped upside down. But upside down is scary. Remember the first time you rode the cork screw? It messes with your paradigms. With your sense of right and wrong. Justice. Freedom. Liberty. All of these abstract ideas have become concrete in our American psyche But isn't the point of America that the people get to decide what liberty is for themselves? When did it become something that is pigeon holed, defined for eternity?

I need to get off my soap box.

I guess the point I want to make is that in the comfort of our own little world we forget that everyone else is human....just like us. All of us are flying through space of the same planet as everyone else. That alone should be enough to humble us and make us sit on the ocean drinking a beer with a stranger listening to their story.

Kind of reminds me of a song "What it's like" by Everlast.

We've all seen the man at the liquer store beggin for your change
The hair on his face dirty, dreadlocked and full of mange
He asks the man for what he could spare with shame in his eyes
"Get a job you fuckin slob" is all he replied
God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues

Will we turn away? Will we keep the madness of ignorance going? It's easy to turn away from an ambiguous problem. If we believe the lies of ignorance that homeless are all a bunch of drunks that don't deserve our help. We have a job why can't they. We also have places to take showers so we can look presentable for our interviews. We also have clothes to wear. We also have a bed to sleep on instead of cold, hard concrete where it might take a beer or two to knock you into a hopefully pleasant slumber.

It's much harder to turn away a friend. We let brothers and sisters crash on our couches. We welcome old college friends and insist that they stay in our guest room instead of across town at the hotel. But how often do we get to really know the family that is living under the bridge we drive on to work everyday. Or do we quickly lock our car doors if they happen to come into view. What are we so damn protective of?

Maybe it's having our lives truly changed. Maybe we are scared of making a friend.

atheism

I have been doing some reading on atheism lately. A few months ago I was browsing in Barnes and Noble and came across a book written by an atheist. Not a big surprise, there are a lot of books about atheism. But something just keep drawing me to that particular book. So, I picked it up and began reading the introduction and noticed two things. First, the author was an alumni of Great Lakes Christian College like me. Second, the book was written to Christians. He was writing to other Christians, trying to get them to understand the atheistic point of view. I knew I had an interesting book on my hands. Unfortunately I wasn't prepared to dive into that discussion right then.

Since then I have been watching people differently. The fact that this man sat in the same classrooms as me, had some of the same professors as me, was thought the same tenets of the Christian faith as me, yet came to two drastically different conclusions made me stop and wonder.

In my wonderings, I came across a very good read, "Jim and Casper go to Church". It's the chronicles of two men, Jim Henderson (seasoned Christian leader) and Matt Casper (seasoned atheist) as they visit a handful of churches in America. I have spent the last few days engrossed in this life changing book, slowly beginning to understand some of the questions that atheists may have.



I am not sure where my thoughts are going with this. Right now I am just trying to listen, a skill that a lot of Christians, myself included haven't mastered yet.

My first impressions of Anne Lamott

Recently I have finished my first Anne Lamott book, "Plan B". For the most part it was what I expected, though I did learn more than I wanted to about women in their 50's. I can understand why she has been compared with Donald Miller. Both chat about life and are not afraid of the little quarks that make life fun. As my friend always says about Donald Miller, it was like reading a personal journal. She talked about growing old and getting fat. She talked about how she hated that Bush had gotten reelected. (Yes the book was a few years old.) She vented about the frustrations of having a teenage son. She also was honest about her fears of death. The book dealt with death a lot. From the death of her mom, to the death of their dog, to the death of a close friend. Sometimes, it got a little personal, even for me. But other times I just didn't get it. Maybe because I am not a 50 year old woman, I don't know. But I do know that one of the last chapters was the best advice I have ever heard from given to people in my generation.

She had a chapter devoted to coming of age. It was a sample of what she says when she is asked to speak at a college graduation service. Right from the beginning I was captivated and by the end I was in tears. I will be honest, even after reading her book and getting to know she wasn't like any of the 50 year old women I know (for one, she has dreadlocks), when I heard that she was speaking to college graduated I was expecting the typical advice given to young adults; get a J O B, make money, pay bills, be responsible. I was greatly shocked and comforted. I was reading something very different that the typical advice. She wasn't saying not get a job, though there were lines that would frustrate parental types to no end. She was saying that getting a job wasn't the end all. It wasn't going to solve your problems. It wasn't going to make you happy. It wasn't going to pay your bills, they will still be there and most likely will be more than you can or want to pay. She was telling us, pleading with us, not to buy into the lie the world keeps shoving at us, that being money is the answer. It's not.

I didn't know what to think. I honestly was speechless. I expected this idealistic thinking from someone in their 20's or 30's, but not from someone in their 50's. And not from a mom. But there it was in black ink before me. I reread the words and felt for the first time I was successful. I keep telling myself that I haven't bought into the lie, but I have. I feel the "shame" of not having a "successful" job. I feel the need to impress people with titles and degrees and fancy this or that, even if I rebel against it half the time. But reading this, this was something different. She wasn't advocating the rebellious spirit that I get from 20 somethings. No, she was not rebellious at all, but was merely exposing the lie for what it was, a lie.

She ended she speech with a call to rest. Relax. She realized that many of the graduates were immediately starting careers, or were going to be forced into starting careers because of their parents. But in spite of that she challenged us not to feel the pressure of life. She instead challenged us to rest and take a break. A break? Was she serious? Yes, she was. She wanted us to take time out to find ourselves, and who we were going to be, instead of listen to the world all the time. I needed to hear that. I also needed to hear her say that if our parents pressured us to be the most successful in our field, the one with the most accolades, making the most money, then we should show them to the admissions office and they can go and fulfill those dreams. What we needed, after a most stressful career of working through college and listen to God knows how many voices bombarding us with advice about what we should do with our lives, was quiet our life, rest, and listen to the only voice that matters. Your own.

life after pissing in another man's bed

So in honor of my previous post, I want to share a story. I was one of those kids that wet the bed until I was, well, until I was 29 and counting. Now, no, it's not an every night event, but it has happened twice since I was a kid of about 11 or so. One of those times was two years ago, and another was just a couple of weeks ago.



Two years ago, I was helping out at a men's camp out. It was great, until the camp out ended and I had to sleep over at a strangers house in a Missouri town that I can't even begin to pronounce. The man was nice, but conversation was minimal as both of us were exhausted from a weekend with a bunch of teenage boys. So, we went to bed. I in the guest room, and he with his wife.



I tucked myself in and was out in minutes. The next thing I remember is waking up in a pool of my own urine, completely horrified. I cleaned up the best I could but was utterly embarrassed, especially when I had to explain myself the next morning. That was the last I ever saw of that man. Life ended after I peed all over his bed.

So, I was again horrified to wake in the middle of another puddle a few weeks ago. My first night in Seattle and my first night meeting the family I was currently staying with. I was paralyzed with humiliation. I dreaded the coming morning when I would have to tell this wonderful hospitable family I lost complete control of my bladder and made a mess on their futon, the cover of which was completely ruined. To my surprise, however, the family was very understandable. Though we were both embarrassed, this conversation paved a way for what has been a great friendship.

Though there has to be a better way to cut through the small talk and into the heart of a person than peeing in their bed.

Human-ness

"Why have we institutionalized our feelings and left ourselves to grieve alone behind closed doors....It is almost like we have tried to reverse the incarnation. Jesus, who was fully divine, took on the form of humanity and was not 'out of touch with our reality' (Hebrews 4:15, The Message). We, in our pursuit of the divine, have too often forgotten to be fully human."

"Our cliched words and actions will never bring the soothing and healing virtue of a sensitive human heart, itself touched by the unanswerable questions that surround death and dying."

"Weeping is a doorway to a pathway of healing that no amount of words or advice or sermonizing could ever accomplish."

"We don't do well at grieving in North America. We have so sanitized death and its aftermath that we have forgotten how to 'weep with those who weep.'"

The above quotes are from a book titled, "In Search of the Church," by Douglas Hagey. One of his chapters deals with grieving, death, loss. Through stories of raw pain, he shows how in his experience the church does a poor job of mourning and helping others mourn. I completely agree.

I have not been touched with the loss and pain of death, so I will not pretend to understand. However, I want to expand this emptiness and numbness of our western culture to include more of life than grieving. Our culture is one that prides itself in independence and freedom. But what is the price? Our culture is one that masks and hides in the comfort of our white picket fences, not wanting others to see the reality of the lives we are truly living. We are becoming disconnected from each other. Kind of ironic in a world that is becoming ever more global.

As I was reading and pondering these thoughts, I was sitting on one of the most manicured backyards I have visited. Beautiful colors from all sorts of flowers and bushes made the backyard into a little paradise. Not too much like the "mess" in the garden where the Holy Spirit is working in the modern parable, "The Shack". A wooden fence closes in the backyard, keeping this little paradise hidden from the world beyond. What is in that world? Well immediately a small unkempt clump of trees and brush. Not very aesthetically appealing. But in a strange way it was attractive, real, exposed.

Why do we try to hide what is really happening in our lives? In the inner most? What is so terrifying of letting someone in, past the peripheral, past the everyday, and into our hearts? We find this in the Jewish Scriptures, what I am trying to use to refer to the Christian Old Testament. The Jewish Scriptures tell story after story of real people, naked, vulnerable, real. maybe that is why they have such appeal. Maybe that is why some in the scholarly world are questioning their validity.

The modern followers of God have not continued this tradition. Instead, we have created "unspoken" prayer requests so as to not reveal too much. When we do reveal, it is more in the vain of gossip that in love. We love to get the inside scoop on what is happening with people, don't we. Not to love them and care for them, but merely for curiosity sake. Or for a future opportunity to hold it over them. The very people of God walk around like they have it all together. The very ones that should know better.

What is holding us back from exposing ourselves to others? Do we really enjoy masquerading around hurting and dying inside? Are we really that naive to think the guy sitting next to us has it together? Or are we so full of pride that we want to appear better than they are? We need to wake up and realize that we are all human. All of us. Very little is separating the lawyer from the criminal, the CEO from the sweatshop worker, the slave owner from the slave. We are all human and all have the same fears, the same dreams, the same questions. What keeps one person up all night is the same reason another drinks himself to sleep. When we begin to realize the impact of this, then we can start to open up and disclose what is truly in our hearts.

It is then that we will be able to weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that rejoice.

It is then that we will actually care about the guy walking next to us on the street instead of trying to push them out of our way.

I have always liked the rawness of life. It has gotten me into many an awkward situation. Being real puts people at edge, they don't know how to relate to you. Sometimes, it allows others the freedom to tell their story, sometimes it doesn't. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love sharing my story of where God has brought me from and where I am now. I am not ashamed, though others are. I do not try to hide or censor God's work in me, for it is His story.

In the same way I enjoy hearing God working in others. I love to talk to people that are transparent and honest about the ugliness inside of them. Maybe that is why I love working and hanging out with those that have been on the bottom of life. Those that have hit the bottom, those that know the horrors that they are capable of are a different sort of breed. They tell it like it is. They don't shy away from sharing their story or digging into yours.

I lost the coherency of this blog a long time ago. But maybe that is why I have kept writing. Letting you see me loose and rambling. I love to read people that ramble. James Alexander Langteaux, Donald Miller, and others are among my favorite authors. They are gut wrenching honest and funny. They shock you with their honesty, yet you walk away comforted and empowered. Like you want to pour out your soul to them too, or to anyone who just happens to walk into the room.

Meeting and conversing with those that are real, and honest, and transparent opens you up to what it means to finally be human. We can retire our masks. We can tear down the walls we have built to keep others out or us in. We can quit playing games to see who is the better person. The answer, the poor Innocent children who die before they have the chance to add their own mess to the world. Those are the ones who are better. Those are the ones who we are trying to impress. But they will never know. So why do we continue in our madness. Are we that insane to think that we have better lives because of all the toys we work so hard to get? Or do we secretly know we are fooling ourselves so we keep accumulating wealth in order to numb ourselves into thinking that we are better? And what are we better than anyway? Really?

The questions go on and on, until the day we expose ourselves and find our self in the engulfing pit of despair called human-ness. It is there that we begin to come alive and free. It is there that we begin to grow and mature into the realm of the real. It there that I want to live and breath. But one can only survive in this place with the help of community. So I invite you into the real. Is it safe? Are you kidding? It is the most dangerous place imaginable. But then again, we can't live in the comfort of the womb forever.

Oh, and it is here that we finally meet God.

church without walls

I have been dreaming lately. And with dreaming comes many random jumbled thoughts. Kind of like your clothes feel after tumbling around and around in the dryer. My dreams have been about being the change you want to see happen. Words from a book I am reading. I see need for change all around me, even inside of me. But I am rarely empowered to begin the changes I dream about. I wish I was. But a year or so ago, I was part of something that deeply changed me. Something that I wish to share and pray catches fire. I was part of what I call a church without walls. And it is this type of church that I have been dreaming about.

I picture a church that infiltrates a city from the inside out. Jesus called us to go, and go we must. Why do we build fancy buildings and put on beautiful shows? Do we truly believe that this is what Jesus had in mind when he told us to go and make disciples? Build extravagant churches with wonderful programs and excellent child care and watch the attendance go throw the roof. Sorry I can't imagine this is what Jesus was talking about.

Yet week after week this is what is being done in the American church.

How pathetic. How sad.

I was part of something that was changing not only the city of Columbia, Missouri, but was changing us. Every Friday night a group of us began walking and praying over the streets of Columbia. We started small, a group of about 8 or so. We prayed and piled into cars and headed for downtown. We didn't know where to begin, so we began with prayer. Prayer is a wonderful place to begin. We walked the streets for a few weeks just praying. Praying and observing.

When Jesus was in the garden the night of his arrest, he asked his disciples to watch and pray. I am only now beginning to understand the importance of watching. We watched as hundreds possibly thousands of college students from Mizzou, flooded the downtown bars and clubs. We watched young adults craving meaning and purpose, drowning their lives away with alcohol. We stood with tears in our eyes as we saw young, beautiful girls throwing themselves at little boys (aka young men that needed a good punch in the face) that didn't care for them at all, only wanting them for their bodies. We watched as people went from bar to bar completely focused on one thing, themselves.

These self absorbed people rushed by the lost and wounded homeless that surfaced during these nights. It was during the busy night life that the homeless went to work, panhandling for money and what ever else they could find. I learned a lot about love and sacrifice from these men and women that I slowly learned to call friends. I heard stories of pain and loss, and love and forgiveness. I grew to appreciate these men and see them in different eyes. But I am getting ahead of myself.

While all of us that walked those streets felt and saw things that changed us, for me the most horrific sight were the churches. I remember a specific scene as if it were a painting hung in my mind. One corner which housed 3 churches and a bar. The churches dark and locked up. One had its curtains drawn and from the dim light the streets provided, you could make out a the typical chairs in a circle. There were many churches that met downtown, one in particular, the Methodist, I believe even took up most of one block, growing from an old Cathedral style church to a more modern addition in recent years. A wonderful display of old and modern architecture. An equally wonderful display of how the church is not ministering to the one demographic that is hurting the worst.

It is no surprise the demographic one is least likely to find in the church is college age. While many factors could contribute to this, I would like to focus on one that I was made away of during these walks around downtown. During the hours of 8pm - 12am on Friday nights when the streets were full of young college students wanting to go out and have fun after a long and stressful week, the churches were closed. What is the point of having a facility in which to do God's work, if the building is closed and locked up at the times when it can be the most effective?


The most common response when I mention a church without walls tends to be geared toward discipleship. How does this type of church disciple people? To be honest, I don't know. I guess the same way any other church does. I brought this up to my pastor the other day and he said that the church needs a place where it can do christian practices. While I agree with this, I was left wondering why this couldn't be a place that already exists. Why couldn't you have a Bible study in an all ready established coffee shop? Why couldn't you have a community singing service in the park or on the corner square? Sure it might not be conducive for the winter months but during the summer it would offer a great place to be in and among the city.

Just one of my dreams that I wanted to share. Let's all dream and see what happens.

How do I love you, let me count the ways.....

What is love, true love? I have been mulling over this question ever since last summer when I had the privilege of listening to a man ramble. His name was Aaron, lead singer of a then unknown band to me, called Mewithoutyou. Aaron spoke of love. And how he was unsure that we ever get to the place where we truly love another person. Or whether what we call love is merely a sense of gratitude for what another gives us.

For example, one can say that they love their girlfriend. But is it love, or is it that being around said women brings a feeling of excitement, especially in the pants.

Or I can say I love talking to my friends. But is that love or is it that I have found someone who tolerates my rants and ramblings.

Children say they love their parents. Or is just that their parents are there to take care of them.

Reverse these examples or any you want to use. Are you left with a loss of love? When the cute little butterflies no longer appear when the one you "love" enters the room, does the love stop too? If my friends stop being so patient with me and tell me to shut up, will I quit loving them? When parents leave either physically or emotionally, does the love cease?

With some people yes. But with others no. What is the difference here? Do some actually find true love? Or do their selfish motives merely change to reflect the situation?

I was reminded of these question of love while reading Bonhoeffer's classic "Life Together" this morning. He makes the case for us purely in the physical not being able to possess true love. That love always has selfish motives behind it, and thus isn't love at all. He goes on to say, however, that love does exist, but only in the spiritual. It is only through Christ's life and sacrificial example on the cross that our eyes are opened we can see what love truly is. The Christian then lives in the tension of the humanity's poor attempt at love and trying to live out Christ's love to others.

Bonhoeffer also makes the point that though on a physical level humans can connect directly to each other, Christians cannot. Christians only have fellowship through and because of Christ. Christians can never have fellowship directly with another believer, for it is only because of Christ that we are brought into the Kingdom. Reading this and wrapping my mind around this blew me away. It brought another element to Christ being Lord of All. I cannot even have fellowship with a fellow brother or sister with first going through Christ.

This thinking also was transforming when he talks of Christians each being sinners, saved by the grace of God trying to fellowship with God in their own right. I am guilty of seeing other believers as better or worse than I. There are some that I greatly esteem and others that I look down upon. But this is worldly love taking over again. How can I treat a believer any different than I would Christ, for they are brought into the Kingdom the same way I was and am. In the same manner, how can I treat any one different than I would I? Christ does call us to love our neighbor as our self. However, there is a difference in the fellowship with a believer. Maybe that is why the scriptures say to love all, especially the believer.

So, how do I love you? It is only through Christ that I am able to comprehend love.

An interesting read on the emergent church

Going back to one of my original purposes for this blog: the emergent church. I came across these articles tonight. Hope you enjoy them. More comments to come.
http://www.consortiumnews.com/2009/052609c.html
http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=32722

The Real Jesus

Glad to know that others are trying to discover the real Jesus as well. I came across this today and was encouraged. http://www.acts29network.org/acts-29-blog/jesus-jr/

Why I am a Christian anarchist

As the American Independence Day has come to a close I wanted to briefly state that I am a Christian anarchist. I have come to this position after a long and hard look at the position from a wide varity of angles. I won't get into all of them here. Frankly I am tired and have been typing all night. There is a baseball game on and I want to get to know some of the Mariners' players before seeing them live this Friday.

I have come to see the issue as simply whether a Christian views themself as dual citizens (a citizen of the Kingdom of God and also the respective government that they were physically born into) or single citizens (solely a citizen of heaven). After looking the the agruements, there were some things I couldn't get away from. The major one being my view of the Kingdom. I adhere to a present/future Kingdom. I believe Jesus ushered in a real and tangible Kingdom, though its fullness is still to come. Both the fallen world and God's Kingdom are being lived out in the here and now.

Whew. I know. Some of my readers are not going to get what I am speaking of. Practically, what I am getting at is that there is a real and tangible reality sharing space with another real and tangible reality. The question then is which one am I going to live in, or is it possible to live in both.

After reading scripture and thinking and praying through the implications and applications to being a dual citizen, I saw many contraditions and questions that I couldn't wrap my mind around. Not the least being, what I do with fellow believers in other man made countries. There are citizens of the Kingdom of God in every country and territory known to man, or at least the possibility is there. I was left with answering the question of what to do if an American foriegn policy interferes with one of my brothers or sisters. Who do I side with? How can I justify my allegence to a government that may declare my fellow citizens enemies? Or how can I say that America is "good" just because they allow me freedom in worship? What if they didn't, would they cease being "good"?

These were merely a few questions I had rolling in my mind over the last few years. As I began to explore these questions, others arose. I started to see Christians here in America blending their faith in God and their faith in America together. Almost as if they were resurrecting America as a type of God. *GASP* No, I am not crazy. Look around, it's there. I here all over the place Christians saying that America gives them this freedom and that freedom. I thought Jesus said that the truth set us free. I thought Paul spoke of freedom being where the Spirit is. The problem I have of saying that America gives us as Christians freedom and liberty, is that as soon as we allow that, we are also allowing America to take those freedoms away. Didn't Paul write that there are freedoms that God offers that no one can write a law against?

Don't get me wrong, I love the freedom that we have here in America. But I don't see how creating a Christian land is contingent on us being Christians. Looking throughout history we see time and time again the times of greatest growth in the church were when the church and state were seperate. Now many in the church use that saying merely to keep the state out of the churches affairs, but what of the other way around. What about us as the church keeping out of the states affairs? What if we really lived as aliens and strangers in this world as Peter told us to? What if we truly did stay out of civilian affairs as Paul said in relating to us being citizens of another Kingdom?

Simply put, I believe that when I became a member of the Kingdom of God, I ceased being a member of America. I am still trying to figure out how this looks on a daily practical level. I don't know. I do know that once you open this, it's a pandora's box. You start to read passages differently. You start to have questions that you don't really like the answers to. But I am not going to spot asking the questions just because I don't like the answer.

Lastly I want to ask the question of whether a "King" as ever been in God's plan for his people. I don't think so. He warned of the dangers of Israel having a king. And because of their protests, he finally gave in. But I don't think it was in the original plan.

What Jesus am I following?

My first solo exploration of downtown Seattle today. Needless to say, I got lost. I love getting lost. Sometimes just for fun, I purposefully go on a road trip with the sole purpose of trying to get myself lost. Rarely does it work, but when it does, it's the most exhilarating experience. I have found that life happens in the moments when one is lost. You meet people you would have never known before. You are put in situations where you have to think on your toes. Or, if you aren't in a hurry, you can slow down and see things you would have never seen. As the painter Bob Ross said, "There's no such thing as a mistake, just happy accidents." Well said Bob.



So, as I was saying, I got twisted and turned around in downtown Seattle. It was fun until I realized I was going to be late to an appointment and I had no idea where I was. Thanks to technology and the help of a friend back in Michigan, I was able to figure out where I was and get to where I was going. Afterward, I took the opportunity to explore downtown. The theme of the afternoon was art. After strolling through Olympic Sculpture Park, I wandered into a few art galleries. A few pieces really spoke to me. One in particular was a painting of multiple Jesuses hanging on the cross. I stood there and almost cried.



I cried for a few reasons, one being my lack of reflecting the true Jesus. I can't reflect someone I don't yet completely understand. I have been reading through Mark this summer. I dove into Mark due to a book I picked up titled, "Jesus, Mean and Wild." The book paints a picture of Jesus that goes against many of the current cultural portrayals. Reading it helped me see into my blind spots I have toward scripture. We all bring our biases and cultural lens into our interpretations or scripture, and equally into our picture of who we picture Jesus to be. Mark paints a wild, mean, may I say rude, Jesus. He is not afraid of controversy. He doesn't care what people think of him. He doesn't make sense and doesn't care. He didn't come to coddle the weak. And he sure didn't come to fill people's expectations, especially those that thought they knew what God wanted. Reading Mark trying to see Jesus for who he is apart from my American influence has been extremely challenging. Looking at the multiple Jesuses hanging on crosses again made me question which Jesus I am trying to follow. Which Jesus am I worshipping.



It also made me realize that others too are seeing the absurdity of there being multiple Jesuses. Only to them, it may not be all that absurd. Another piece that I fell in love with was at the Sculpture park. It was a long colored transparent wall with holes. It faced downtown and as one walked along the wall it cast different colors on the skyline. It showed me how different people see the world through different colors, different paradigms. It also reminded me of perspective, how things change the closer or further you get. The wall had holes, thousands of little holes you could see right through. Each of us sees only through our own hole. I don't know if we can change that. But if we can begin to see that maybe our hole isn't the full picture or that other people believe just as strong in their hole as we believe in ours, then maybe we can begin to see the whole picture.

Bringing this back to Jesus, I am wondering what it would be like to see in full. If, for the sake of the conversation, we allow that Jesus is God, and similarly we allow that God sees all, try to imagine how you would see the world. Then imagine what it would be like to enter into the world, moving from outside to inside the painting. How would your perspective change? What things would matter to you? What battles would you just avoid knowing that they don't matter to the full picture?

I am also wondering how we can possibly know Jesus. With all the different angles and slants we all bring into the world, how can we know Jesus? Is my little hole in which I see the world right? Is yours right? How can my view of Jesus possibly be the "correct" view, when there are millions of views all fighting for the same level of rightness. Yet, there has to be a Jesus that is the correct picture. There has to be a "right" way to see the world. The has to be a standard in which to judge all others by. This is not to say that I or anyone else in the world has stumbled on this view. This is just to say that in life as with all other things, there needs to be an gauge in which to measure by. When I ask the question, "What is a tree?" or "What is a dog?", we to be sure have different trees or dogs in our minds, but we still have something that would be classified as a tree or a dog because we know what those are. We can identify is someone is picturing a horse as opposed to a dog and pass a judgement on their picture as wrong. I believe the same can be applied to our worldviews.

This begs the question, "What, or whose, worldview is the standard to gauge others by?" And to that I would answer Jesus'. And to the question, "Which Jesus?", I will let you decide. I think Jesus would want it that way.

What does Jon feel about cigars?

My first day in Seattle can be summed up with one word, decisiveness. Sitting around a pool on the 4th when someone pulls out the cigars. I have been around guys smoking cigars. Even thought about it a time or two. But I never could bring myself to smoke. Never thought it was wrong or anything. I guess I never really could make up my mind. So when I was asked what I thought about cigars, I said my canned response to everything, "I don't know." And to be honest, I don't think I really do know.

I wasn't prepared for the response. Instantly one guy shot back that Seattle wasn't the place to be wishy-washy. I have spent my life in the "in betweens". I have made my home there, found comfort there. In the "in betweens" I never had to own up or make choices. It wasn't required. I could weasel my way out by honestly saying, "I don't know." It wasn't that I was ignoring the question (though admittedly I was), it was that I honestly didn't know. I never worked through the issues, whatever they may be.

Hearing that this is a place where it is required of me to make up my mind deeply challenges me, scares me. But if I am honest, I am also secretly glad. I am tired of not knowing if I want to pick up a cigar.

Footloose

The other day I was cleaning up after a yard sale. The summer heat wave finally kicked in and I was drenched in a glossy film of sweat. Needless to say, a shower was much overdue. The shower mecca experience was too short to fully embrace, so I decided to continue in the moment through any way possible. My friends were over and waiting for me, so I ran out the door with no shoes.

I just read of someone who walks around all year long with no shoes. I laughed as the picture was painted of this woman going through life with no shoes. From the local coffee shop to the post office, this woman (rain, show, or sleet) lives without shoes. Something inside me envied her freedom, though I never thought I would actually have the opportunity to participate. But here it was. I was at the mercy of my friends who I thought were merely taking me to their house, but I quickly found out that wasn't the case.

As soon as we jumped in the car, I realized that me traveling with shoes was going to be a problem. Ryan was hungry and asked Jim to stop, though Ryan hadn't yet made up his mind as to where. The consensus was that all of us were hungry. Ryan made the call that pizza was in order, and because he was paying, Jim and I weren't about to argue. However, I remembered that I was traveling without shoes and the realization that I wasn't going to be allowed in swept over me. The other two didn't consider it to be an issue, but at my protest, and because it was an absolute perfect day (minus the 95+ weather) we eat outside.

The humor of the situation, however, wasn't apparent until after dinner. We finished eating right as Jim's wife called needing to get picked up. We dropped her off earlier before grabbing a bite to eat. We picked her up and at her command proceeded to drive to Walmart. I wasn't about to stay locked in a car during the hottest day of the year when a perfectly good air conditioned store was a few feet away. So without the needless comfort of shoes, I walked into Walmart.

I was ready for the greater to ask me to leave. And I would have. But to my surprise no one said a word. I was reminded of Red (Morgan Freeman) from Shawshank Redemption when he said, "I mean, seriously, how often do you really look at a mans shoes?" Not one person talked with me. It was the funniest thing. I walked around Walmart barefoot. The cold tile against my skin felt strange to be sure but it was also comforting. It was one of the most freeing thing I have done in my life. It created an almost sensuous feel. It felt like home, and I loved it. Though I doubt I will relive the experience any time soon.