my brother the migragory goose and me, the hibernating seattlite with my hand on the snooze button

"i know i suck, i just can't hear it." my tone deaf brother said these words to me about his singing ability - or lack there of. he know's he's bad and in truth, he is aweful. he takes "bad" to new soaring heights. still, he can't hear what he knows to be true.

i laughed at my brother. it is a silly plight and something that doesn't matter all that much. but, i laughed so lightly in part because we are now members of different worshipping communities. i no longer have to attempt to sing a chorus or hymn while standing next to him. God love the boy, no matter how bad he is, he always belts out some off key (and off melody and off rhythm) tune. i can hear it and hear, in his heart, that "sweet sweet sound" he squawks his request for God to hear. however, the pain comes in my inability to sing. standing next to jake, suddenly, he is so aweful that i have a difficult time trying to stay of key (or rhythm, or melody - or even harmony for that matter). i can laugh lightly with him now, but a few years ago, i would have said, "yep. yep, you really can't hear yourself." and would have ground my teeth thinking, "so maybe you should just sing a quieter so no one else has to hear you either!"

but now, i laugh.

this seems to speak to community. when a member of a community cannot hold a tune - it is not the single member who sings off key - it is everyone. so then, what do we do with our ears that hear what our community members cannot? do we wish they would stop, or do we play the role of a gentle tuning fork?

further, the truth is that none of us have perfect pitch. we're all belting out off-key tones saying, "i think it's this." together we sound like a flock of migratory geese heralding the morning before it's actually arrived. we are annoying. we are painful to hear. others deeply desire to end our misery...but, in truth, it's not misery. we herald the breaking dawn - whether it's broken or not - it will come. whether we are on key or have any rhythm at all, the world looks and listens. people roll over in bed and prepare for the first of many snooze-button taps before they are finally roused.

in short, though my brother sounds like a dying goose and though christian community is annoying and appears crazy to the world around us, we both worship and praise the coming dawn of a world where our squawking becomes melodious and where the bright light of the broken dawn thaws the harsh, frozen, barren, wintery world.

sing on jake - and pardon me if i keep hitting the snooze button. i'll sing with you again some great day! then we will hurt the ears of th world as we joyfully struggle toward the right key.

merry tristmas to all

i think that evangelicalism might just be palitable if it didn't enlist us in such a strict world of us versus them. it's tempting to say that fundamentalism's downfall is it's legalistic moralism - something to be confronted for sure - but legalistic moralism often looks at life and sees that we are all in danger of falling into some irreversible sin. legalistic moralism sees the danger for all people. it's not about categorizing and labeling so that "we" are safe here and "they" are across some line of judgment.

i remember a christmas story i was told at sunday school:

there once was a rich man named tristian. tristian decided that every year on his birthday, he'd invite a new person to share in his wealth. each year, he did just that. and each year, he invited everyone who had come before as they celebrated a day that became known as "tristmas." everyone who had been invited to this great celebration was called a "tristian" and all tristians were invited every year.

after time, the population became jealous and began celebrating the day themselves. the malls became crowded with people buying gifts - people who had never even met Tristian.

one day, a tristian stopped a woman at the mall, who he did not recognize as a fellow tristian. he said to the woman, "why are you celebrating tristmas if you are not a tristian?"

that's where the story ended.

the man was a hero. the woman was a fool. the alegory was violently obvious, as we were the lucky tristians. the rest of the world was just jealous because they had not been invited.

really? is this really what was born 2000 years ago in a stable? is this the great hope of the world? is this the legacy of the jesus who wept over the world? maybe the story should continue:

just then, Tristian himself walked by. with unparalleled love, he looked deep into the eyes of the shamed woman and said to her, "merry Tristmas friend." he then looked at the puffed up tristian and said, "look, the world has seen and recieved my love and generosity without even meeting me - yet you claim my name, you dine with me every year, you have been lavished upon - and you have not love for others?" as Tristian looked at the man, he didn't judge him - he was only sad. he knew, his loving, generous experiment was not working.

that year, at the Tristmas feast, he announced: "you are all Tristians. you have all been generously blessed. i love each of you - but the love and generosity i have given you here in this room is a pale shadow to what i wish for you, and for all the people of the world.

"look at the world around you. they are celebrating Tristmas. they are giving and recieving. they are feasting together. they are finding hope and joy in this day - even if they have not ever met me, seen my wealth, or felt the hospitible welcome of my mansion.

"for a time - for some unsaid number of years - we will no longer meet here every year. i want for all of you to join your fellow-humanity in the generosity and blessing of the day. join them and further invite them into this generosity. see them all as tristians, touched by my generosity and giving in response. love them and learn from them as you also are loved and taught by them.

"in time, you will all recieve your invitations back to my mansion and we - as well as all those you have dined with and all those who know my generosity - will join together to feast at Tristmas."

a confused woman said, "but, if we treat everyone who celebrates your generosity as a Tristian, we won't be special anymore. everyone will become a tristian. this is our special day in the year - can't we keep it set apart from the rest of the world?"

a man spoke up as well, "your mansion, big as it is, cannot fit that many. it's not meant for everyone, only a select few!"

Tristian stood tall, compassionate, yet firm as his voice strongly rebuked the prideful two. first he spoke to the woman: "sister, this day is indeed special. it is like no other. does it not become all the more special when even those who have not met me feel some seed of incontainable generosity in their hearts? are such people not worthy to be one of us?"

Tristian then spoke to the man, "brother, how little you know my mansion after all these years. have you explored its every room, every garden, every table? there is ceaseless room in my mansion. it may look limited, but when love and charity knock, the walls ever expand - extending hospitality to each one that seeks to join the feast.

"brothers and sisters," he continued, opening his large, loving arms to all his festivly gathered friends, "as i said before, beautiful as this yearly feast here in my home is, it is a pale shadow of all that i wish. i wish for the you to all give and recieve as freely as i have with you. moreover, i wish for the whole world to give and recieve in that way, and for you, as my friends and ambassadors, to invite the world into this way of giving on this joyous day.

"now raise your glasses with me and let us drink, sweet friends, to the tristmas feast - here in this room, next door, in the homeless shelter, in the widow's lonely studio apartment and in every space that it is celebrated."

like in the story of the grinch, seeing their mentor's love to liberally spread throughout the room and even beyond it's boundaries, the closed-hearted tristians' hearts all grew three sizes, bursting with new generosity. finally seeing what Tristmas really was, they all heartily raised their glasses and exclaimed, "TO TRISTMAS!"

art show

brief update:
The art show opening was well attended. the poetry and music were beautiful. too many people thought that asking for admission was asking too much - those people kind of made me mad...but, such is american privialged life. we made about $1,000 for invisible children.

2 of jen's photos sold
2 or bryan's sold
1 of tucker's pieces - the one he made specially for the show sold

a number of other pieces are being mulled over and will probably sell at some point during the 3 month stay.

random people from mountlake terrace and from the conservative church where the show is taking place keep happening in for a peak and come away with a new experience of art and a knew knowledge about the world...a very encouraging result!

we're planning to have another show like saturday's, with poetry and music, near valentine's day.

don't forget that our special closing event will be hosted by invisible children and will take place on march 10th.

the down side of things:
spending a day in the church that i used to intern at - the place that was my spiritual home - the place i pined after when i moved away - rotted my stomach. that church lives staunchly in the us/them world. many many times in the last week i fought back tears in the face of such close minded lack of compassion.

how do i have compassion for them?
how do i not end up in a different us/them world?
how do i walk with them toward compassion?
what does it look like to be curious about their lack of curiosity?
am i ready to walk back into this world that hurt me so much, or is this a premature stent?

i am beginning my month vacation with a ton of inner questioning and uncertainty.

SIDS, judgement, and a bad day

Tears that fall like winter rain in Seattle
Slow
Bitter
Constant –
Making you turn frigid and brittle in their soul-draining shadow
Of grey clouds and impenetrable blankets
Smothering a small child who just wishes she could breath
But has not the power to free herself
She slowly suffocates and is claimed by SIDS –
Like too many infants who
May have shined one day – who
May have danced – who
May have changed the world and made it into something



Bright.

Such tears are void to hope
To stretch
To create a world – In which
You and I sit together - In which
You and I share a meal – In which
I could dare to bring myself
To you
In which you might strain to truly see me

You report her sinful world
You report your anger
You report her – beautiful her –
Broken honesty as
Sin
Full

It is indeed dark and no child can breathe
Beneath the shadow of your heavy world
Beneath your misplaced anger
Beneath your – stifling your –
Broken hiding as
Sin
Less

art show

Remember to come to the art show!!!!!

also, here's a treat:

more on manger art

thanks to generous artists such as phil nellis, tucker fitzgerald, jen grabarczyk, jessi knippel, scott erickson, john powless, byran nixon and a host of others who are either not confirmed or not my particular contacts, this year's art show should be really amazing!!! i am truly blown away by the artwork we've gotten in the last few days.

i strongly encourage you all to attend the opening and bring your check book and Christmas buying list! invite friends ! it is looking to be a great event!

Praise the miraculous God of recolcilliation!

The controversial mars hill protest has been called off. for the most happy of reasons: reconcilliation!

Mark Driscoll and several local pastors met and had an open, honest dialogue. Apparently, Mark even humbly listened and recieved from female pastors!

Anyway, here's two links: mark's blog, and paul's post. Read these and join me in utter amazement, worship, and awe of our reconciling God!

Note: Mark's change in language does not change my fear of his leadership in Seattle. It was not the diminuitive words he used that caused friends at SPU to consider dropping out because they were "wasting [their] future husband's money" when they weren't even yet acquainted with whoever this future husband might be. It was not Mark's strong language alone that cause a close friend of mine to leave Mars Hill with a fear and hesitancy towad church. It was not the words he chooses that made this same friend stunned when, for the first time in two years of attendence, she heard a sermon about grace and realized that she hadn't for years.

Mark's theology is still dangerous to women and in general - so long as women are not given space and encouragement to explore fully, and to appreciate as beautiful, who God has made them to be and until grace is the heart of every sermon and the hinge of Mars Hill's existence, I will continue in fervent prayer for Mark's heart and theology to be changed or for his platform here in Seattle to be removed entirely.

announcing manger art '06

Host:	Work of Art Ministries: Changing the world can only be a Work of Art
Location:	The Levi Room (Next to Post Office) 23302 56TH Ave W, Mountlake Ter, WA View Map
When:	Saturday, December 16, 6:00pm
Phone:	(206) 359-5723
Remember the story of kings following a single star to find a new king? Remember the extravagent gifts they brought? Remember what they hoped for in that king, in that baby named Jesus? It is again the time of year when we contemplate their trek, when we wonder what this king meant, who he was, what hope he represents. It is the time of the year that we sit by a warm fire and sing "Jesus Christ is born today!" But, what does it mean to say or sing, "Jesus Christ is born today"? It is a celebratory, hopeful thing to say or sing. Whether you believe Jesus to be God, the Savior of the world, a prophet, or a character who believed in love, healing the sick, feeding the poor, and longing, dreaming for a new world, to say "Jesus Christ is born today" means something more than Christmas trees, nativity sets, Santa Claus and cookies. Work of Art Ministries, in line with the full meaning of this phrase, invites you to celebrate the season with hope, and work towards a different world of health and peace! Manger Art is an annual Art Show to benefit the two-thirds world. This year the exhibit will be up and for sale for three months (December 16-March 10). We will be opening the exhibit with a gala event including live music from Deb Montgomery and Hollis Brown as well as live poetry including one of Seattle's top slam poets, Ryler Dustin and others from Bellingham's Lobster Manor Poetry Night. The suggested $6 donation, as well as all proceeds of items sold will go to benefit Invisible Children. There will be paintings, photography, mixed media, and quality artwork gifts (perfect for Christmas gifts!) to view, contemplate, and hopefully pruchase! We hope that you will join us for this chance to celebrate Christmas, the world, and the hope for peace, health, and happieness across the world that the baby Jesus came to transform and save!

a note to the boys of greenwood glen

a rant:

if you want to be a cheesey folk band with schtick and white snake-skin cowboy boots, that's ok. do your thing. i'm ok; you're ok; we're all ok. to each his own. etc. right?

just don't call yourself an "irish band" when your version of "that's another reason why i left Old Skibbereen" sounds like a stupid song from "a mighty wind." you are more a christopher guest than a chieftan.

on disappointment:
i've been told that i am a person who is often disappointed. i never let anyone know that they have disappointed me. i don't know why. i think it has something to do with them, then, having power over me. i really don't know.

when i am disappointed, though, i can't let go of the dream that has been dashed.

i was going to see an irish band tonight. i've known and looked to and counted on that fact all week. they would probably play the irish rover and get to heaven half an hour before the devil knows you are dead. i would sing along. maybe they would even sing wild rover and we would all wave our glasses in the air as we sang along and i dreampt that i was actually in ireland - in a place where life will be better - a place i dream of nearly every night - a place i've hidden many lonely or disappointing nights. i would eat clam chowder and have a bailey's coffee.

what happened? the band was not irish. they just weren't. they were infuriatingly un-irish. the bailey's coffee was horrible. there was no chowder. the fish and chips i ordered ended up making me feel sick. i could not picture being in ireland. nothing felt like home. it was not a dream.

but i clung. as my friends told me how miserable i looked, i clung: "maybe they will play the irish rover. even they can't make that un-irish." but they could and they would have if i didn't finally allow the dream to end and leave me unsatisfied and, once again, disappointed.

similarly, i just got an invitation to my 5 year college reunion. i'm a nanny and a failed youth minister. i have one graduate degree, but its nearly useless to me. i'm in school, and not doing much. i was going to graduate seminary at 23 and be in the mission field (ireland) for two years. i would be married and adopting my first child within a year. i have failed my dreams. more disappointment. always disappointment.

what will it mean to learn to live in disappointment? will i still have hope? will i cling to dying dreams? will i find something other than disappointment in a present that is nothing like the future i had dreamed it would be? will find fulfillment in being a nanny? will i be satisfied in my roles of friend, pastor, god-mother, unofficial aunt (the girl i nanny calls me "aunt becky"), social activist, dreamer, unpublished author, student, and yearning revolutionary?


tonight i am disappointed in the boys of greenwood glen and am finding fellowship and love with my friends...little lost and much gained.

correction

there are some things happening in Seattle, however, they have a local AIDS bent rather than a focus on the global pandemic. So...check these out and see what fits best.

I still hope to see you all (in the Seattle area) at Golden Gardens.

world aids day, seattle, 2006

so, what has broken my nearly 2 months of unintentional blog fasting? at this moment, i do not heart seattle. i am infact, based on a preliminary search for an AIDS day event to involve my church in, ashamed of her.

As far as I have been able to discover, there is nothing - no great out cry - no vigil - no demonstration - nothing!!! happening for World AIDS Day in Seattle. Two days later, there is a protest of Mars Hill Church, but nothing for AIDS Day.

I'm going to do something. Get a red candle - or two - and meet me at Golden Gardens at 7pm on Friday, December 1st. Invite friends, family, church member, ANYONE! EVERYONE!!! It won't be anything big, just a time for prayer, meditation, and hopefully sharing some information on what we, the people of my beloved city, can do.

This is not just some cause. It is the cause of our generation. If you think extreme poverty is the problem, you are wrong because you cannot treat extreme poverty without treating AIDS. Young farmers who could produce the food needed to feed their families are dying. Poverty cannot end amidst the AIDS pandemic.

In 2005, there were 2.8 million deaths resulting from AIDS. Of this 2.8 million, 2 million were in sub-saharan Africa. In sub-saharan Africa, 2.7 million children were newly affected with AIDS.

Every week, as many people die of AIDS as there were American casualties in the Vietnam War.

Women are in particular danger as they often do not have the right to decide whether or not to have sex and whom to have it with.

Stop for a minute, count: one-mississippi, two-mississippi, three-mississippi, four-mississippi, five-mississippi, six-mississippi, seven - stop. one person has been infected with AIDS.

6,000 children are orphaned by AIDS every day. 15.2 million children world wide have lost parents to AIDS and less than 10% are recieving aid from their governments.

Visit World Vision Austrailia's cite for some information on how AIDS affects sub-saharan Africa.
Take the World Vision AIDS test.
Contact the White House.
Become a World Vision AIDS prayer partner.
Take one minute and use your cell phone to sign a petition:
Just follow these simple text message instructions to "Make Your Mark for Children" affected by AIDS:

• Create a new text message with only the word “CHILD” in the message.
• Send that message to the number 77812.
• World Vision will confirm your petition signature and allow you to opt-in to periodic mobile alerts on World Vision HIV/AIDS relief efforts.
• If you are having trouble with the mobile petition, please add your signature to the online petition instead.

We cannot stand by.

so, i'm working on a new template, but blogspot is pissing me off...

hopefully there will be a new template by the end of the week.

killer coke

These are pictures from a protest of Coca-Cola in India.
Please check out Killer Coke and, please, please let your life be radically for the poor at least enough to choose a different soft drink!

Police Attack Coca-Cola Protest in Mehdiganj, India; Over 350 Arrested
"Towards the end of the rally, the marchers decided to march to the factory gates, about a hundred meters from the site of the rally. The armed police reacted violently and swiftly, with no warnings. The armed police launched a vicious lathi (baton) charge on all the marchers, and many women, in particular, became the target of male police officers who beat them incessantly. The police also chased after community members in the surrounding fields to beat them, many of whom were escaping the site of the violent police action. A Budhist monk was also attacked by the police, who showed no regard whatsoever for any one present in the area. The police attacks were ordered by Mr. Tahir Iqbal, ADM of police in Varanasi."
-Killer Coke's report on the protest

introducing bonhoeffer jr. (nickname: bono baby)

finally! i have a scooter!

dual relationships

Sitting at Green Lake Bar and Grill over Sunday Brunch, I talked with one of my friends about how strange it is that many of my relationships are gaining a new layer as I am taking on the role of pastor. True, my two closest friends who are a part of the church have already told me that I am pastor to them whether or not I am leading the church community they currently belong to – still, there is something new being born. I told her that one person is going to be my roommate, a member of my trinity of best friends, and a member of my church. “Woah, woah, woah! Way too many dual relationships there,” my alarmed friend frantically and authoritatively cautioned me, “You need to figure out a way to make that less of a dual relationship.” She proceeded to tell me that this is a dangerous relationship – that it is not nearly as safe as a counseling relationship. Isn’t this the goal though? Isn’t life much more dangerous than an hour in the office of your counselor? Isn’t a truly reciprocal relationship much more scary, often harmful, and always redemptive than one where one person is clearly set aside solely for the care of another?

Yet, there is another layer here. When you are pastor, it is one – very difficult – thing to not only care but be cared for in your suffering, sin, woundedness etc. It is another – from my vantage point – to be cared for in your suffering and woundedness for the people who call you pastor. How did Peter look into Jesus’ eyes? How did Peter receive his pain? How can Peter care for Jesus’ woundedness or even hear of it without being shamed for having hurt the one who care for and loved him – who guides him in his spiritual growth.

And it is the dual relationship that saves Jesus. Peter cannot not know that he has hurt Jesus. He cannot not know Jesus’ wounds. Peter cannot not know that Jesus has seen him, deeply, fully, and in all aspects of life – on good and bad days – in decisions for life and for death. In that dual relationship, when Jesus responds to Peter’s confession and broken heart, the fact that Jesus calls him Peter and not Simon begins to heal the shame already; the cowardly man is still the rock; he is still who he was created to be and called by Jesus to be. Jesus then asks the question to which he knows the answer: “Do you love me?” He asks it three times – one for every sign of lovelessness Peter sent Jesus’ way. Each time, he responds – “You, the one who I named Peter, who lived with and loved me, who denied me in my darkest hour, and who loves me deeply – you who are neither pristine nor shameful but who is one who lives abundantly and who can live abundantly with others – you, feed my sheep.” He says to him, “I know you – your light and your darkness – your struggle and your journeying. Knowing all this, I know you love me and I give to you the interdependent care of my precious children.”

And, as I am the penitant Peter - failing, denying, cowardly, passionately flailing and hitting others as I do - yet I am asked "feed my lambs." thus, feeble failing i when pricked to bleed, invite others into this gifted place at the feet and in the love of Jesus.

i know many of you have been coming here to look for an update on how sunday went. it was amazing and hopeful.

it was also painful and terrifying. i have so much emotion and fear and brokeness and exhaustion tied up in the hope and thrill of the experience that i just don't have words.

hopefully i will return to you with more. i feel the need for a retreat but lack the time.

out of town and out of context

first:
thanks to one and all (excepting gruber) for comments of encouragement in the face of myspace! we can take solice in knowing that one day all evil empires like myspace will end! (joking - but also not. i know of at least one marriage that had ended violently because of myspace and cannot imagine the number of lives of young women that have lost so much glory to sexualization at ages 10, 11, 12, 13 - so, it really is sort of evil)

second:
anyway, i'm off to a conference today, but had to leave you with these new quotes brought to you by trusty spies, bryan nixon and carin taylor.

"I've always wanted to be a bobble-head."
"Have you ever been thrown out of a bar? I have."
- From Sexual Disorders

"Especially at the beginning of the day, you don't know what pants I'm wearing."
"The Trotskyites wouldn't even take me."
"You've got cooties."
"Have you ever lusted and wanted to kill people? 'Uh-huh (yes).' Then we want you as our candidate."
"Anarchy, but no pink."
"I'm just going to wear bold shirts and marry someone who lives in a trailer."
"I would've had far more integrity and joy if I had picked up the whole doughnut."
"I was like, 'You have to take a test to get into law school? Bummer.'"
"I get to hallucinate on your behalf."
"I don't care about being incontinent."
"You might as well just have a hologram up here."
"You shouldn't be drinking cheap beer. There will be no cheap beer in the kingdom of God. Just get over Pabst Blue Ribbon."
"Frankly, I don't like God."
"I don't like anything I teach, and I know most of it's not true."
"I know people on crack who are happy."
"It's like putting me in a tutu. Does that help?"
- From Faith Hope and Love

Thanks Carin and Bryan - until next semester, this is the end of quotes out of context! Blessings as you spend the rest of the semester digesting and unpacking the depht that accompanied them - their context, if you will.

for the record:

i really really hate HATE myspace.

i invited my brother to my birthday by way of evite.

he doesn't do email anymore - just myspace.

so...if i want to communicate with him, i have to get a myspace.

i will not!

sometimes you give in, others you stand up and fight!

the seedling

as many of you know, my friend and neighbor, jen, and i are beginning a church/community on october 1st. actually, i'd say it's already started. i think it started for me on the night we gathered to pray for annie. regardless, check out the church cite.

i am a jeremiah...

I am a Jeremiah
Without the courage
To speak what I see
And the fire that keeps burning
Within my bones
Is slowly tearing you from me
And I’m caught between
Denying the message that keeps me weeping
And my hope
As I dream dreams for people
And show them what we can all live without
-Restoration Project

the previous post on my blog waas birthed in the frustration of answering the question: in what biblical narrative do i find what it has been for me to lead as a woman?

i wrote my answer - sort of but not really - today and thought I should share it with you:

These 400-500 words are heavey. Their process has been long, lonely, and tear-filled. They birthed a ranting blog entry before coming here to this page. My attempt to find the bridge from the questions to my place and my heart has left me sort of not answering the questions - but I'm as close as I can reach, maybe standing with my feet in the cold river I can't bare to cross as the icey water seems to penetrate my flesh and touch my bones with its icey fingers, letting me only sustain its current just long enough to get these rough 400-500, heavey words out - whether or not they meet the questions. So, here it is:
When I survey the long, arching stage of the biblical narrative, there is diversity of leadership. There is struggle; there is peace; there is pride; there is humility. There are those that I find myself in, those I admire, and some that I don't even really enjoy. When I stand before the stage, holding auditions for what narrative I find my leadership reflect in, few get call-backs and most of these come from the latter half of the Hebrew Bible. From this group of twelve or maybe fourteen, I have to choose just one. The decision is easy though: Jeremiah. Granted, this choice means that I am lonely, struggling, chastised, dreaming of a world where the poor and orphans are cared for, but quite certian this will not happen and that my search for a radical life will ultimately lead to radical isolation. Still, in Jeremiah, I have found my compatriot.
Then, another criteria is added: I am now looking for someone who reflects what it has been for me to lead as a woman. Here, everyone who made it to call back in this audition is sent home, not meeting the qualifications. I have to start auditions over and invite all those narratives of women leading back to the stage. As they come, the stage looks rather empty. I look deep into the faces and characters I see the faces of women who have seen Jesus resurrected but no one believes them. I can find myself in that, but something is missing. I see one woman who led through hospitality, serving her husband the king and leading to the salvation of her people. I look up to her and enjoy hospitality, but it's not a match. I see the Samaritan woman, the first missionary, and am absolutely inspired by the beautiful face of her narrative, but don't see myself. I see an unmarried, pregnant teen who brought forth and raised the very son of God. I weep as Iook into her worn but glad eyes, but this is not my story. As I come to the end of the line of auditioners, I begin to ask, where is the stuggling prophetess? Where is the female version of Jeremiah - surely, she must be even more lonely than he, but she must be here, somewhere. Then I realize that she is not here. She was never recorded in the seemingly diverse biblical narrative aresenal. I realize then and there that that encredibly lonely woman was me. Here I stand, as the coldness of the river begins to remind me that I cannot bare to remain in this question, realizing that the lonely call to a radical, prophetic life of loving the poor and subverting the Roman Empire we call America, is not only lonely as what it is, but it is lonely as a woman called to lead.
Quickly, I step out of the icey river and towell my ankles off. I put on three or four pairs of wool socks by watching the video my roommate rented last night and watched without me as I attempted to answer these questions, to regain some sense of heat. I step away and struggle to forget the cold of the river and the loneliness of that empty stage and under-attended audition, but as tears continue to pelt my cold cheeks, I know I will never forget that cold or that loneliness because this is the cold and loneliness that God has called me to and all I have left to hope is that God will be enough company, that I can find myself, as a woman, in God, and that just maybe, I'll find someone else to stand in these cold waters with me.
In the end, these heavy words are actually near 800 (I apologize for my verbosity). These 800 miss the question, but they are still the only answer I have to give. Maybe some day I'll find the question they match, but for now, I leave them with you to take as you will.

what i would write if i knew how...

i am, and have been, sitting at my computer, staring at it. i don't know where to start, but i know that i need to post something.

i want to tell you, readers, how costly it is to lead as a woman. i want to show you my scars and tears. i want to reveal how much shame i feel with regard to my call, how much anger i have for that shame, how much shame i have for that shame.

i want to tell you how fear floods my heart everytime someone asks what i'm studying and how angry i am that men never have to fear that.

i want to tell you how i wanted to end my journey toward starting a church when our lone man in leadership felt a call away from the church, how i didn't want to engage the fact that two women are starting a church and how i both envied and hated two well-lovede friends who are men starting a church and who surely never stumbled over the question, "we're two men - can we start a church? where could we find a woman to start it with us? will anyone come to a church headed by men? what will my brother think? how do i tell my extended family that i'm a man pastoring a church without a woman over me?"

i want you to see that, when asked to write about a narrative that reflects what leadership is like for me as a woman, i broke down in tears because the biblical narrative stage is desolate when it comes to leading women. women lead by washing feet and by being prostitutes harboring spies and by following their mother-in-law and marrying a kinsman redeemer, and by beaing beautiful and making dinner for the king - her husband. i identify with jeremiah, but there is no great, tortured prophetess.

i want you to know how afraid i am to write this blog entry - how i'm afraid of your reaction, afriad that you will think i am overly emotional about the subject, afraid you will voice support and live nothing in response, afraid that i'll reach out only to be left even more alone - which is, with few variations, how the story goes.

i want to tell you the story of the first time i admitted my call to someone - after harboring it for four years - on a youth group retreat - on my 16th birthday - only to be left weeping, knowing that my calling, unless it was to marry a pastor and not to be one, was from the devil and not from God. i want you to see the roses my dad sent me for my birthday wilting as they are pelted with the salt-water of my flowing tears. i want you to know the jovial smile of late night adolescent-girl goofing off that was lost in the violence of the church against women.

i want you to know that, at the very same church, my brother's call was celebrated - and that i had to watch that and that i couldn't be happy for him - only envious that he was celebrated as i was chastised.

i want you to be with me in the moment that i saw a twenty-something white american christian man walk down the hall as though he owned the world and, in that second, hated all white american christian men because they all own the world and and they don't see the cost - they don't see my tears - they voice their support then go on living on the oppression of women.

i want you to know how ashamed i am for feeling oppressed and for the moment i saw men that way.

i want you to know how deeply i wish i could just get married and be an at-home mom and abandon my calling. i want you to know that i have tried to. i want you to cry with me over the fact that i have tried to abandon a call simply because i am a woman.

but how do i tell you these things eloquently, so that they are all in one piece and so that you will read this and think better of me? how do i begin to hope that you might see me and grieve with me? where are the words i so often weild to bring you on a journey with me? in my rawness and desperation, they seem to have disappeared leaving only these broken fragments of a life-time of being shamed.

back by popular demand: dan lincoln

quotes of out context via a first year spy, carin taylor:



"I'm not suggesting that you hit your clients."

"You are a baboon and I am not."

"...shake it like Shake n' Bake."

"We want these little pagan animals not to create havoc in our 3rd grade classrooms."

"Americans are honest. We didn't steal the land from anybody."

"He went (fell) down like music teachers are apt to do."

"I am a poor Rafiki."

"'You are going to participate in cannibalism with my body.'"

"So you've learned to run against horsemen. Let's see how you do against horses."

"You're going to watch Law and Order or read the Bible. Most of the time, I would say watch Law and Order."

"It's not that I have a language, but I just have to talk. With words."

"You think I read my books?"

"Somebody needs to come to the side of you with one sweet whack and say 'you're a jackass.'"

"If you have a car you've kept for 200-300,000 miles, you are doing harm to this nation."

"You are a fool. You look like a fool and you smell like a fool."

"Don't slaughter the cow on their plate and expect them to dig in."

"If you're going to be that drunk, keep trying to mount the horse."

"Don't cross me, because I'll shoot you like a stray dog in an alley."

"How do you love when you're a killer? It's a problem."

"What changes the heart? A Jimi Hendrix offeratory."

"You are a scary dude or dudette."

to the victims of 911 and of the US government

above is a picture of a palestinian woman sitting in the rubble of her home, demolished by the israelis on september 11th, 2001.

i know many of you have been awaiting a promised new edition of quotes out of context. tomorrow, your hunger will be satiated with the quotes collected by a first year faith hope and love spy. today however, i want to direct your attention to a beautiful call to mourn from one of the leaders of the house church i was a part of in boston.

please visit dr. james' blog and join him (and now I) in his holistic, reverent and beautifully patriotic mourning.

Consumerism is the opiat of the people.

Bill Mahr claims that religion is the thing that stops people from thinking.
Neitze said that religion is the opiate of the people.
They are both wrong.

Commercialism stops people from thinking.
And, consumerism is the opiate of the people.

We think this gihad is between Christian faith and Islamic faith. It is not.
It is between American consumer-driven, self-protective, money grubbing religion and Islamic faith.
Do you believe that our scantily dressed women would offend the Islamic world as much as it does if we were people who lived and loved like Christ - caring for the marginalized and caring for the orphans and widows rather than as global litterers, treating people and countries as our trash cans as we attempt to keep our small park of the world clean from any unpleasentries and allow our ambition and self-seeking lust for wealth drive us? Do you think our lives would be so sexually driven if our hearts were compassionately living?

It is not religion, but religions all-too-easy submission to the love of money - religion's deep sleep in the lullabye of the American deam - blind to the rest of the world - that stops thinking and births this war of terror.

the long, arduous journey to say "get well"

a close friend of mine is in the hospital across the country (please pray for her).

i wanted to send her flowers, so i called the hospital (located in the south) to find out her room number. the conversation that follows is no exaggeration. only her name has been changed.

automated voice: thank you for calling southern general hospital. to continue in english say one.
me: one.
automated voice: i'm sorry, to continue in english, say one.
me: ONE!
automated voice: i think i understood. did you say "one"?
me: yes.
automated voice: alright, please listen carefully to our new automated system.
- automated system list of numbers to push goes on and on -
automated voice: for patient and visitor information, say "eight."
me: eight.
automated voice: I'm sorry, did you say "pound star"?
me: no. (then i moved the phone away from my mouth and said to a friend, "i said eight and the thing thought i said "pound star."
automated voice: I think i heard you that time. Did you say "R-E-P-E-A-T"?
me: no!
automated voice: I'm sorry, i did not understand you.
me: eight.
automated voice: I think you said "eight"
me: YES!!!!!!!!
automated voice: Alright, let me transfer you.

- long time on hold -

operator #1: Patient visitor relations, how can i help you?
me: hi, i'd like to order some flowers for my friend Jane Doe, and i'll need her room number
operator: let me transfer you.

operator #2: hello, patient information, how can i help you?
me: i need the room number for my friend Jane Doe, that's Jane D-O-
operator #2: Wait, is that first letter O or R?
me: D
operator #2: R?
me: D
Operator #2: N! or R!?
me: D!
Operator #2: N!?!
me: D as in dog
Operator #2: N.
me: no, D
Operator #2: ok
me: ok, so it's D, as in dog, O as in operator,
Operator #2: so i have 2 Os?
me: No, i don't think you are understanding: D-as-in-dog followed by O-as-in-operator, E-as-
Operator #2: O, E
Me: No, the letter D, as in dog! the letter O, as in operator! the letter E as in early!
Operator #2: Ok, let me just check here. She's not in here.
Me: Um, yes, yes she is.
Operator #2: No. Either than or you are spelling it wrong.
Me: No, I'm spelling it right and she is there. Would it be possible for me to speak to someone else?
Operator #2: No. It's just me. You're going to have to call me back after you get the spelling.
Me: That is the right spelling. Thanks, bye.
-hang up - call Jane to get her room number - no answer - decide to try the hospital again

Operator #1: Patient visitor relations, how can i help you?
Me: I called a minute ago and you transfered me to patient information and the man over there didn't understand me and kept telling me that my friend isn't there or that I'm spelling her name wrong, but she is there and i am spelling her name right.
Operator #1: let me look that up for you. i am sorry about that.
Me: Thanks, her name is Jane Doe. J-A-N-E last name D-O-E.
Operator #1: Jane Doe. No problem. And, how old is your son?
Me: (thinking, how backward is the south when someone names a son Jane?) SHE is my friend, and SHE is 25.
Operator #1:Ok, her room number is 7708
Me: Thank you so much.

By the time i finished, it had taken an hour to order flowers.

happy new year!

september is like new years to me. i was born in september. school, which i've been in for almost two decades, starts in september. my mom's a teacher, so the rhythm of summer has always been unpredictable, like my friends, ben, patricia, and hawkeye's band, beats per minute. they called themselves this for irony's sake as there was no rhythm at all, only lots of fun things that make noise. meanwhile, september is a return to friends, patterns, familiarity, and a steady rhythmic life. thus, on my equivalent of new years eve, the night before school started, i found myself as excited as a kindergartener the night before school started. i woke up wanting to scream, "Happy New Year!"

this summer carried with it clarity and new vision. this year has the potential to be one of great formation and academic stretching, as i believe i have found the question that will gestate either into a book or into a phd thesis.

so, for all of you who read my blog, happy new year, and i look forward to journeying with you this year.

also, is this a season of new year for you? how do you mark it? is there a pattern to this month? are there favorite rituals (like the cashing of student loan checks :))?

for me, my birthday followed (i say followed because i no longer have a birthday only the anniversary of my 24th birthday) the start of the new year, making the gathering of those i love an important part of the start of things. this year i had thought of not having a party, but as school started and i felt familiar rhythms, i realized that this is a part of my calendar...so there will be a party - an anniversary party - but a party none-the-less. do any of you have similar events or traditions that make life feel like home?

out of context retrospective

i am inerrupting my blog break to introduce my blog's face lift and to reflect on last year.

i hear that the new students have a faith hope and love intensive this week so...in remembrance of last year, here is the best of quotes out of context.

new students, any of you who read this and decided to take notes on the funny stuff dan says this week, please email direct, accurate, but out of context quotes to eyeheartseattle@gmail.com.

“Go back to 8th grade and be weird. Just be on the edge and wear fringe.”
“You will likely be stoned often.”
“I was paying $50 a day for the privilege of having my child abused by someone else.”
“Jeremiah has just discovered his penis.”
"Look, I don't like the Bible."
"Please take out your check books and write a check to the Dan Allender yatch fund."
“The absolute most logical question [for me to ask] was ‘Am I pregnant?’”
“People in this church will say things that hurt you, that do you harm, and you will need batteries.”
"[There is] too much libido in chocolate chips."
“Do you love the way thorns and thistles feel as you weed your garden? If the answer is yes then we are in the realm of sexual disorders.”
“Sit here and watch Jerry Springer with me.”
“The task of a woman is to be a nuisance to her children.”
"I got into a 15-minute discussion with a fellow urinator."
"Odd and deleterious things are coming out of [my] nose and mouth."
"You shouldn’t be afraid of death. You should be afraid of me."
"I can smell your breath."
“If you could do four jumping jacks, it would be clear.”
"That’s the problem with parenting, its that it takes an extraordinary amount of time."
"Actually, I am a holograph tonight."
"If there is a way that you can come to eat one less shoe, you will have done well."
“Watching Dr. Phil and Oprah together [is pornography].”


and my all time favorite:

“bray like an ass but bring some excrement so we can see what we might grow.”

(no) summer break

so i only have two weeks off school and i work those two weeks. no vacation this year at all. so...i'm taking these two school-free weeks to abandon the computer (except for my search for a permanent job - my current position ends when school starts). i will return to blogging on september 5th.

3 am conversion

Some thoughts I had this week amid an all-nighter:


Can I be a grade addicted, over-driven student and meet God? Can all nighters be a place of holiness?



I am sitting at my kitchen table. It is pitch black, three hours until sunrise. I will meet the sun before I meet my bed this night. The lights are turned off and I am surrounded by candles as I listen to music of the kingdom and sit with a text on mysticism, the life of a prophet and social justice. I have Seattle’s favorite sacrament, coffee, as my companion and exhortation in a hand-made mug as I slowly study for a paper. Is this not a sacrament? Is this not sacred. One minute I am entrenched in thoughts of what grade I might get, but the next I am brought to tears as I listen for God’s plan for my small life and petty soul.

And I know, Jesus sits with me this night at this table. I will not rest until Friday night, when all the work is done. Then too, Jesus will Sabbath with me. We will sleep in together. We will wander Greenlake together. Could I ask more of a sacred life?

spiritual discipline for love

A friend needs me today. What, then, have I done with my day? Is it really possible that I am a pastor, a shepherd in love with her sheep? I have sanctified my day on her behalf. I am praying with every breath: inhaling shalom and exhaling love. I am listening to the Breastplate of Saint Patrick on repeat, seeking to internalize the prayer that Christ be everything to her this day. I am praying that her friends and family be roused to prayer and that our prayers be mingled as one beautiful choir, inspired by the beauty God has painted in her face and brought to tears through God’s tears for her.

Is this shepherding? Is this being blessed to be a blessing? Is this the beautiful calling God gives us? Is it my pleasure and my responsibility to sanctify my day, my thoughts, my every breath for the benefit of those I love?

Praise the God who calls us to a life of prayer, sanctity, community, grief, and with-ness. Praise the God who breaks my heart on behalf of another.

desire, ET, and a tragically forgetful bride

where do you hide a scary alien?
what would a chaste bride do on her wedding night if she didn't realize it was her wedding night?
what does out culture do with desire?

in an attempt to hide the extra-terrestial her brother coaxed into her room, young drew barrymoore covered the odd looking stranger with odd looking stuffed animals. maybe if he is hidden in excess, he will not be seen.

isn't this what we do with desire in our consumeristic culture? there is one true desire: God. for whatever fallen reason, we flee and fear this desire. we hide it behind a plethora of substitute desire and lust thinking, maybe we'll stop seeing it. we step back and look at our collage of desire and squit our eyes? is it still there? of course it is. and so our collection of lusts grows exponentially, always seeking new highs. we are addicted. finally, we have it so hidden that it is like that 90's fad - magic eye. if we work really hard and stare long enough, and if we really want to see it, then we can find our desire amist the camoflaging army of cheaper, satiable desires - but only if we want. then, finally, it's lost completely, and if ever we could stop and find an approximation of rest in our frenzy to satiate the myriad of sirens enticing us to fulfill our million desires - if we could rest, then we would rest easy, knowing that we have made our desire utterly lost.


what would happen if a chaste bride waited for the wedding night then, with uncontainable passion and anticipation, somehow forgot that the wedding had happened - somehow forgot that tonight was the wedding night?
maybe she would run around in an increasingly tattered and dirtied wedding dress finding lovers, like a whore rather than a bride.

is this not also what we do with our desire? our desire is for consumation, only we don't know that it is here. we may intellectually say "the kingdom has come," but, we have no real knowledge that the kingdom has come - that the wedding night is here. so, longing for comsumation, we simply consume.

Lord, that we could know that the kingdom has come! That we would see you as our husband.

So what is ministry? What is it to awaken life in those around us?

the desire for God is a living thing, something that will not settle to be hidden amidst dusty, lifeless stuffed animals. God is a jealous and loving husband who will not sit by as his hungry wife seeks to placate her desire with lesser lovers. the desire for God will be seen. as ministers, we speak the words and live the lives and pray the prayers that invite desire to step out of cultural camoflauge. we live our lives hoping to realize, ourselves, that the wedding night has come and our true love longs for us and, as we realize that ourselves, we invite others into the consumation of the kingdom.

maybe ministry can be seen as living in our own desire and calling forth and highlighting desire in those we serve?

what would this mean to a vein of faith that has systematically repressed desire?

what would it be to not hide, but embrace that desire that we still desperately fear?

study break out of context

"I'm going to kill you sometime....I'm going to find something to kill you with."

-Jen Grabarczyk

evil, suffering, God

studying for a modern philosophy final, when i stopped by the mars hill webpage, it seemed appropriate for me to click the link for "evil, suffering, God." surely, studying modern philosophy is evil and suffering...and i like God so...

anyway, i was met with a picture of myself. in the immediate split seconds following, i asked myself, "does mars hill think i'm evil, suffering or God?" then i realized, it was my article. so, click away, read, comment etc.

rest and compassion - friends or foes?

where do compassion and rest meet?
where do doing and being intersect?
where does kindness to self turn to seeking the kingdom and where does seeking the kingdom bring kindness to self?

mark 6:33ff makes me yearn for some approximation of an answer to these question

I used to read it and say, "see, God tells you when to rest. the disciples thought they were tired, but there was work to be done. there is always work to be done in the kingdom."

hmm...is God an American-style workaholic? Does God want to feed my workaholism, my doing for rather than being with? Do I believe that God is a God of rest? He healed on the Sabbath. Does this mean that there is no more rest with Christ? Did we recieve the Holy Spirit so that we could work over-time?

The disciples, though, didn't ask for rest - Jesus invited them to it.

Then, compassion came. The Greek word means to be moved to the guts. Jesus' heart was stirred and broken and the result was teaching, feeding, and healing - beautiful, but exhausting - nothing near the retreat he had teased his disciples with.

So, holding to a God who gives rest, and loving a God of compassion, I'm left truly asking and wondering, where do compassion and rest meet?

sunday bloody sunday rx2008

i saw this and thought it would be funny. then, as i saw and heard these compassionate words from the president's mouth, i began to wonder...what if we had a president who says "many lost but tell me who has won?" and "i won't heed the battle call."

so if arnold can campaign, can bono?

how would the world change? dare we hope, in 2008, for a president who spends more time fighting global AIDS and loving orphans than relaxing on a ranch in texas?

amos of tekoa, a prophet to the american mindset I

how do we make scriptures something more than beautiful language? how can the words of the prophets bite us as they would have the original hearers? how can the word become living? translation.

here's a translation of Amos' message...for the israelites, it was too late. is it too late for us? is it ever too late after Christ? even if there is no pending destruction, can we mourn how american wealth at the cost of the global poor as tarnished the Lord's name? can we mourn that the holiness of Yahweh's is washed with the blood of the oppressed? more to come when my paper is turned in...

anyway, here's the translation/introduction:

I had a dream of you, reader. You were living the American Dream. I saw you lounging in a over-stuffed IKEA couch, feeling lush fabric beneath you and drinking an ice-cold Coca-Cola on an unusually hot Seattle summer day, whose temperature and skin-toning UV rays were brought to you by way of your Hummer, sitting in your garage with better accommodations than the homes of the people who made that couch on which you perched. You were watching American Idol, and feeling quite confident that American Idol means Global Idol, since America is number one.

Then, the haunting music preceding a FOX special report interrupted Simon’s reaming of the latest reject. As you heard the sound, terror gripped your heart, like the roar of a lion in an ancient near eastern village. The voice of a right-slanted FOX news anchor followed the foreboding music and your lackadaisical evening came to a halt as he brought this message: God is going to destroy American Christianity. For you, there is no hope. Christ’s cross and resurrection are no longer applicable to your transgressions. Your businesses will be laid waste. The stock market will crash. America will no longer be number one, but will be destroyed. The lush lives you have gained at the expense of global poor will be wiped like a tear from the face of the Earth. The end has come and Jesus, the Lord God of hosts will uphold his name through your destruction.

lost

where did you go my friend?
you left to travel the country
to meet strangers
and possibly to meet yourself
i miss you
and pine for the day you meet me

where did you go my friend?
you left to find employment
to save children
and possibly to save yourself
i miss you
and pine for the day you save me

where did you go my friend?
you exit more ambiguous
will you meet yourself the stranger?
will you save yourself the child?
will you kill me in your search?
did you find war?
i miss you
and pine for the day you called me friend

and where have i gone?
my exit most ambiguous
has pacifism been
ripped
out
of
my
cold
dead
hands?
has the resurrected child been so easily slain?
has the once-lost soul wandered so quickly?
i pine
for peace
for quiet
for play
for love
for the day i am found in your willingness to see

more prayer please

now i have an impacted wisdom tooth and swollen gland and no dental insurance and no money to be able to take time off work and a major paper due....

prayer request

so, my ankle is really not healing - a month later. i woke up this morning and it hurt as bad as it did two weeks ago. if you could pray for it to heal, it would be greatly appreciated.

philosophy out of context

Top Ten (in no particular order) Quotes:
You’ve got to mention diarrhea if you want to get an A on this.

Maybe some bear in the San juan islands has an ape iron t-shirt they wear these days.

I stink therefore I am.

We know that the CIA is making doubles of us all the time.

I realized I was an I when I pooped in my pants.

Santa Clause can fly. And Santa Clause leaves me presents. That’s why I leave him cookies.

This is good for your life as a postmodern pastoral hipster.

It's on your TV, so you have to learn it.

I don’t like the fact that you’re from New Jersey. I hate all people from New Jersey. I’m going to flunk you because you are from New Jersey

Once you get beyond pooh-pooh pants, that’s really about as infinite as you can get.

Other context-less voices:
The women in your neighborhood will set their clocks by when you take a dump. – Phil
Maybe feces is the essence of being. – Steve
Because I have nipples I exist. – John
Show us your nipples so that we know you are real. - John
Does prolegomena mean masturbation? Does anyone know? - Zadok

Why I Don't Dance...

"why can't i dance?" after downing 3 beers - the taste of which i could not handle, so i was plugging my nose and making an absolutely disgusted, almost cartoonish face after each giant gulp, i assumed that finally, i could bring myself to dance amidst a crowd of people where i knew no one and wanted to impress everyone around me. still, beer was not enough. i tried. i tried so hard. i stood in the crowd. i finally, per the coaxing of a friend who was probably embarassed to be the one who invited me, i got my feet to move ever so slightly. then began the conversation with my arms:
Me: Arms, do something.
Arms: What do you want us to do?
Me: I don't know. Dance?
Arms: How?
Me: I don't know. I don't really dance. At least MOVE!
Arms: But we don't know what to do.
Me: JUST MOVE ALREADY!
Arms: No. We'll look stupid.
Me: You already do and now you're making me look stupid.
Arms: Well, we don't know what to do.
Me: (to my friend who I was supposedly dancing with) Well, I have to go to church in the morning so, bye.

I couldn't leave yet because of the beer, so I walked around outside inwardly shouting at myself for not being able to dance.

So, the new question is similar, "Why can't I dance...relationally?"

A friend had hurt me by not seeing my odd depression in the re-birth of my freedom now that I am post-youth ministry position. I knew that I needed to talk to her. I knew she didn't mean to hurt me. So, I sat at the top of the stairs of my house and had a conversation with my legs:
Me: Stand-up and go downstairs so that I can talk to her.
Legs: Well, what are you going to say?
Me: I don't know yet. I'll figure it out when I get there.
Legs: You know you're going to hurt her if you say what you're feeling. You know she's already hurting. So, you should at least know exactly what you're going to say.
Me: Ok, maybe I'll say (insert onfidential imagined conversation)
Legs: Ouch. That's going to hurt both of you.
Me: Well, it needs to be said though and it seems kind.
Legs: Sure, it's kind, but I'm not taking you there to say it. It's dangerous. What if she doesn't recieve it well?
Me: JUST MOVE!
Legs: But...
Me: SHUT UP AND FUCKING MOVE! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM! WHAT IS MY PROBLEM! WHY CAN'T I JUST FUCKING DO THIS!?!

Then I cried.

The next day, everything exploded - and it ended up being soooo beautiful. But, one thing my friend said to me is that she didn't see my pain - meaning that I didn't make it seen. I told her (actually shouted at her) "I tried. I tried really hard. I'm sorry that I coudln't do better. It was t he best I could do!"

She was beyond amazing in that, but it leads to the question:

Why can't we dance?

Why can't I more explicitly invite those that love me into my pain? Why can't people around me see my pain? Why won't they? Why can't I tell people when I am let down by them? Why is trying to be seen so trying? Why is not being seen so painful? Why do I then recoil?

Why can't I dance!?!

The next day, in a conversation about community, a friend wanted to know how we will deal with disappointing each other and I said, "By further disappointing each other."

As much as I wanted to dance that night, I couldn't bring myself to.
As much as I want to deal well with my pain and with my friend, I couldn't bring myself to.
As much as I want to hope for things to change, they may not.
But it's not that I don't dance. By being in a relationship, it doesn't matter if I sit at the top of the stairs and silently yell at my inactivity. By having a relationship with someone, even in absense, I am dancing - clumsily as it may be.
The tragedy is not the proverbial stepping on feet. The tragedy is not standing on the dance floor and having your arms refuse to move. The tragedy would be leaving the dance floor.

Ultimately, the tradegy does not come in disappointing another. Glory comes there. Glory is present even in a clumsy dance of broken hearts and disappointment. Tragedy comes in isolation. Praise God that isolation is never possible in a world filled with God's relational image bearers and with God's very Spirit.

So life is dance lessons and maybe one day, I'll start dancing without making a fool of myself and my friends. In the mean time, I want to be like that old gay guy in four weddings and a funeral. He looked like an idiot. I laughed soooo hard at him. He died dancing and, his dancing was sooo bad that I originally thought his death was an extreme dance move.

I will fail and be a fool...but I can, and do, and cannot not dance.

happy birthday mom

my mom's birthday and father's day come one after the other.

every year it is an opportunity to be a let down, to see myself as daughter and feel a failure there. each year it is a chance to center my being around their joy and feel as though there is something meaningless in me because they do not feel joy. every year, i try buy fail miserably.

this year, i thought i would feel better about it. if mars hill teaches you one thing, it is that your mom hates you and your dad abuses you in some way. armed with this knowledge, i assumed things would be different.

today, on my mom's birthday, i have failed her and am tempted to say i am, therefore, a failure. this is the subjective i to her thou. on the anniverssary of the following poem, i am reminded of the important truth that i am not, in my essence, subjective to thou - or if i am, i am truly and ultimately only subjective to God's Thou.


now, a poem i orignally posted a year ago today:

A Winding World of Seeming Subjectivity

You pound down the stairs, eyes glued to the floor
You enter my soft silent morning with penniless words
I am a cold, quick daughter running for the door
Not quick enough
You peer over my shoulder with unwanted unedited commentary
Your gaze is a bullet aimed past the plank to my busy speck
I am a hurting, lost daughter running for a door I thought was opened but know is closed

You are a mist in the air an accidental memory
You enter my young hopeful morning with a theiving recollection
I am a resiliant, lonely three year old behind a baracaded door
Not strong enough
You peer past my humanity with unloving, unsavory contact
Your affect is a lingering, often forgotten bullet imbedded for 20 years
I am an angry, protective older sister of a girl too long lost behind a door blocked with hatred

You raise your gaze to meet mine, eyes begin to well
You enter my red shouting morning with penniless hope
I am a kind, trying daughter standing in the door
Too quick
You peer past my wishfulness with unsatisfying unsatisfied brokenness
Your gaze is a bullet aimed away but penetrating an already bleeding heart
I am a disappointing, hard working daughter standing in a door that swings too slowly shut

You invite me to your bank terminal
You enter my rushed important morning with pennies
I am a nice, smiling no-one running round a revolving door

Your voice reaches my ear through airwaves, ear glued to the phone
You enter my winding hopeful morning with willingness
I am a weary, immature approximation of a boss fainting through a door way and on to the floor

You rush your fingers across keys and tap a button
You are absent in my lost over-used morning with penniless un-expectation
I am a caffeinated, disappointed approximation of a friend standing miles from a doorway

You look past me answering phone call upon phone call
You enter my filled unfulfilled morning with absent stare
I am a worn, un-encountered unknown stepping in and out of a heavy door

The morning ends as I am careless and heavy
I run you over
Your insides come out
Your tiny feathers and now crushed legs and beak
Break
My
Heart
And draw my tears
I feel sick and want the morning back
or erased

either will do

There is evening and there is morning
A new day beacons on the horizon
You’ve entered each morning though I gaze past you into abyss
I am an ever-blessed beloved
I am a forgiven, for giving daughter
I am a protected, beloved child
I am a valued, created someone
I am a faith-given, faith filling servant
I am a sought after, intimate friend
I am a rejuvenated, known continual encounter
Never truly subjective – simply seeming so
Or maybe subjective only to your great light-filled presence

recipe for a perfect day

1 ladro's triple tall soy medici

2 friends joining you in the commute to school

1 friend who likes driving so you don't have to

2 u2 albums on the way to class

1 lunch break with your best friend and favorite neighbor

2 kids that smile when you come near

1 3.5 year old child who, suddenly, wants to be right next to you all the time

1 amazing opportunity to bother said child's mother by encouraging him to stick not one, but two fingers up his nose

1 old testament class getting out early

1 ride to safeco stadium with an extravagently kind and blessing friend

3 or 4 missed turns due to rapturing conversation which causes inattentiveness to the road

a dash of not caring that you've missed turns and may visit tacoma before arriving at safeco

2 small meals at fx mc rory's

a heaping teaspoon of patience and relational priority from a sports-enthused companion as you wait at will call and miss ichiro's first at bat, first batter, first pitch homer

1 barry bonds homer

5 m's runs

1 half hour in line to get two bottled alcoholic drinks

1 shiskaberry

1 lap around safeco whilest looking for the team store

three strikes for berry bonds to end the game

1.5 cups of ben and jerry

1 m's t-shirt down from $35 to $7

and garnish with amazing conversation until way after you should have been in bed

serve chilled with child-like joy and a life-time of mariners memories

serves 2

hosea + gomer = undying love?

all the time
you were burning my letters
you were only acting the part
you think without me
you'll get on much better
but you dont even
know your own heart

come home, darling
come home quickly
come home, darling
all is forgiven,

but your still playing
for a love you'll never find
outside of these arms of mine

the whole town
is one step behind you
with the hang man on call
they've got the judge
and you're convicted without a plea
darling, they will listen to me

-pedro the lion

i have come with one purpose
to capture for myself a bride
by my life she is lovely
by my death she's justified
i have always been her husband
though many lovers she has known
so with water i will wash her
and by my word alone
-the church by derek webb

money cannot buy
a husband’s jealous eye
when you have knowingly deceived his wife
-wedding dress by derek webb

in the wake of being murdered by the church, may we, as God, direct our eyes to that which knowingly decieves her and our undying love to the church - harlot though she may be.

and as we do that for the church, who we are ourselves, can we love the harlot in ourselves, as God does, with undying love - harlots though we truly are?

can we see beyond the erosion of hers and our beautiful face to see the beloved? and will we fight for that beauty?

leaving lake city

today i leave my charge
today i am greeted
by failure and freedom locked incestually together
by soul-shaking solitude and the hope of communal afershock perichoretically joined
do i join the dance
am i lost in that dance

like a 3/4 time waltz of nausiating hope and disappointment
can i step into this swirling world

once i took waltz lessons
for the wedding of a friend
her father-in-law scared me
i wore a new dress and comfortable shoes
one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three and on
on your toes then back to the ground
smoothly turn without looking down
you circle and circle and how long can it last
one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three
the beat picks up pace
onetwothree, onetwothree,onetwothree
nausia increases and perichoresis gives way to dreams of flight
nausiagrowsmonserousandperichoresisdisappearsinthequakeoftremblingfear
onetwothreeonetwothreeonetwothreeonetwothree
stop

zach morris walks in and freezes frame long enough to ask the question
do i want off the swirling merry-go-round?
do i want out of the dance?
in this moment, i see a vision of a burnt-out and meaningless life of chores
waiting and watching dancing with the stars on syndicated television from a lazy boy
the distant pulse continues without me
onetwothreeonetwothreeonetwothree
stop

let me on

today, i do not leave my charge
today i am greeted
by failure and faith locked incestually together
by soul-shaking solitude and the hope of communal afershock perichoretically joined
i join the dance
and there i
am lost

parting words

this is the sermon i preached yesterday - my last sunday at my church:

Luke 17:20-21
Once, having been asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, "The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, 21nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you."

Commercials are pretty annoying – though creative. But, their entire point is to get you to want something you didn’t want before. Somehow, a 30 second commercial makes you thirst for something you didn’t even know existed before.

Have you watched many pharmaceutical commercials? They are the worst. They aggravate me. You see the perfect family with the perfect house playing in a perfect yard with perfect children on a perfect day. Then, watching television either by yourself or with your family, you look around your small apartment or cluttered house; you see the grey sky and eternal rain outside the window. If you’re a parent, your kids aren’t giggling, they are crying or fighting and your spouse is passed out on the couch. If you aren’t a parent or if you are a parent whose nest is empty, the laughter of the children in the commercial is haunting. There’s this sense of longing that is awakened in you. You think, “I want this drug.”

At the end of the commercial, they tell you the name of the drug but not what it’s for. You find yourself fighting the impulse to rush to the phone and call your doctor for a prescription. The drug might turn out to be for the arthritis you don’t have or for insomnia when you actually suffer from narcolepsy, but you have to have the drug.

Somehow, without even knowing what the drug does, we get a glimpse of the life it’s supposed to give us and we cannot live without it.

Still, this commercial doesn’t exactly hit home for me. My dream commercial starts here at LCPC. Close your eyes and imagine it. The new fellowship hall is filled with smiling people of divergent ages, ethnicities, and socio-economic statuses. They are eating together and praising God. Then the commercial pans to the adult education room where a session meeting ends in under an hour and there are tears of joy and love in each elder’s eyes as they embrace and go out to proclaim God’s love to the congregation. Did I mention this took less than an hour!?! If you’ve been an elder, you know what I’m talking about.

The commercial then pans to the greater Lake City area. The homeless people that congregate by 125th street would still congregate, but for a feast. They’d be laughing and in their right minds. They’d be joined by the richest citizens of Lake City, by the youngest and oldest, by every ethnicity and every age group.

Eventually, the commercial, shattering records for the longest commercial ever, shows sweat shops closing, AIDS orphans being held, droughts ending, AIDS being cured in Africa, governmental corruption ending and capitalistic demands being replaced with two commandments, love God and love others. War ends. Soldiers put down their weapons and run across enemy lines to embrace their once enemies. Murder ends. Suffering ends. The whole world is consumed with love. We are all made one.

Finally, the commercial ends by returning to a smaller level, showing homes in every nation with mothers and fathers together and in-love, children cared for and adored as beautiful gifts from heaven, neighbors welcomed as though they were family.

Then, in a short breath, the commercial shows a bottle of pills with some long but catchy title like chlorahappymediloveinol and has some sort of cheesy phrase like “because we all like to be happy and we all have trouble loving.” Then quickly a voice says, “Consult your doctor before consuming Chlorahappymedaloveinol. Side effects include but are not limited to patience, kindness, lack of envy, pride, and rudeness, disinterest in usual sinful activities such as self-seeking, recording wrongs, and delighting in evil. May also cause rejoicing in truth, trusting, hoping, perseverance and even faith. The greatest side effect is a high propensity to love God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself. Warning: Chlorahappymedaloveinol is for everyone and its effects are highly contagious.

Do you want to buy this drug? How much are you willing to pay for it?
What if I promised you that it actually works? How much would it be worth to you?

One of the events I was blessed to go to with the youth this year was an AIDS walk with World Vision. They simulated the real lives of five children in Africa. One of them was named Timothy. The first time I went, I was Timothy. I remember taking my first step into his story and being overwhelmed by the beauty of his smile. I wanted to freeze time and just stare at his smile until I was lost in it. I peaked around the corner, though, and saw a gravestone. I knew the next step involved death and longed to just cling to the moment, but the recorded story moved me along. Timothy’s father died of AIDS. Later, his mother died of AIDS. Finally, Timothy finds out that he has AIDS. He got it from, at age 6, working in the fields until his hands were cracked then, with those cracked hands, caring for his HIV-positive mother’s wounds. I wanted to scream and cry and I did, later, weep over this true story.

If a pharmaceutical commercial promised me that Timothy would have a family and that he wouldn’t die of AIDS, I would sell everything I own to buy that drug. I would scour behind every couch cushion in my house for change. Actually, I’d scour behind the couch cushions of my neighbors and of my friends and I might just sneak into some other houses. I’d take out every penny of loan money I could and apply for endless credit cards to buy that drug.

So, going back to my question, how much would you give? Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God is like that prescription drug. He tells us about a man who finds a pearl and sells everything he owns to buy it. This, Jesus says, is the Kingdom of God.

Jesus tells us that this kingdom belongs to the poor in spirit and to the meek. He tells us that if we seek this kingdom first, everything else we could possibly need will be given to us. In this kingdom, there is no need to worry – ever. It’s like a high class, extravagant banquet that everyone is invited to. The kingdom is about forgiveness. In the kingdom, we are born a new – into a new life, where righteousness shines like the sun and children playfully lead. The kingdom comes with power and will never end. In the kingdom, disease is healed and children are greeted as though they were Christ himself. There, the least are the greatest. In the Kingdom, we will truly know God – like a son or daughter knows her father, like a wife knows her husband. In the kingdom, life is eternal.

So, how much do you want this kingdom?

Now that you are longing for the kingdom, here’s the good news and bad news: the kingdom of God is in you.

It’s obvious how this is good news, but I’m sure you are wondering how this is bad news.

Scripture tells us that the kingdom does not come with careful observation – or rule following. The kingdom does not come in policies or a book of order. The kingdom does not come in liturgy or tradition. It does not come in spell-checking a bulletin. The kingdom will not become brighter or more present if kids sit quietly in pews for a worship service. It does not flourish because events go well. It will not shine more brilliantly or dimly if youth day goes off without a hitch.

None of these things are bad. These things have their place in the kingdom. But, in so much as we are pre-occupied with them, we miss Jesus’ message and become Pharisees.

Jesus says, further, that no one can say the kingdom is here or the kingdom is there. The kingdom is not in the new fellowship hall or it’s beautiful kitchen. I was driving to Federal Way with my roommate once and we passed World Vision. I told him the World Vision is the capitol of the kingdom. He corrected me: the capitol of the kingdom is the hearts of the children World Vision serves.

We have put so much energy into our remodel. It has paid off. It is beautiful and will, no doubt, hold many holy moments – but it’s not the kingdom. In fact, it won’t even house the kingdom unless our hearts do. In field of dreams, the voice says, “If you build it, they will come.” This is not true for the kingdom. In the kingdom, we say, “If you love, they will come.” We can make all the beautiful architectural space in the world – but unless we make beautiful space in our hearts, our physical space will be spiritually empty.

This is the bad news. But, it’s not all that bad because Jesus goes on to say that the Kingdom of God that does not come with rules and that is not here or there is in you. It is in each of us, and more importantly, it is in us as we come together as the body of Christ.

So, where is the Kingdom of God – it is in each person in this room. It is in our conversations – in the space that exists between us. More aptly for today, it is in the youth at LCPC.

Do you remember the construction process? Do you remember how every step was exciting? Do you remember peering through windows to see every new advance? Do you remember your first step into the nursery? I remember a youth spilling soda pop in there and getting lectured on how this beautiful space should be preserved. Do you remember the first time you stepped into the new fellowship hall? Do you remember the awe that struck you the first time you saw the kitchen?

Can you imagine having that same dedication to every person in this room and to the community we can have if we become one? Can you imagine having this same dedication to our youth specifically? Can you imagine being as protective of them as of the new carpet in the nursery? Can you imagine that the slightest stain on the wounded hearts of our youth threw you into panic and sent you flying to the store to buy a professional carpet cleaning syrum? Can you imagine looking into each face in this room and seeing God’s beautiful architecture in their eyes with the same awe you held for the marble counter tops in the new kitchen? Can you imagine looking at each of these youth so that your breath is literally stolen away at their beauty? I can. I have had my breath stolen by them. As my time here ends, I have to thank you all for inviting me into their lives. The blessing of knowing them has been and will continue to be a treasure – a pearl – that I would sell everything to own – it has been the kingdom of God.

So, that commercial for that medicine that you would sell everything for? That commercial is the person sitting next to you. Today, especially, it is the youth you have been introduced to. Please, as we go out to celebrate the youth, track them down and listen to the melody of the kingdom in their voices. See the art of God in their eyes. Hear God’s mercy in their laughter. Please know that the Kingdom is in you.

Before we conclude, I’m going to ask you to do something that will probably be very uncomfortable, but sooooo holy. Turn and look at someone sitting next to you -preferably someone you don’t know too well. Look into their eyes and study their faces. Know that they are created in the image of God. We’ll do this in silence for 120 seconds. Fight the uncomfortability and pray for God’s presence.

Prayer:
Lord God, King – Great King, your kingdom has been given to us. As you say, it is in us. Lord, as we pray, your kingdom come, make us believe it. Make us seek it. Make us see it in each other. King Jesus, take our lives and make them your kingdom.

Amen


Blessing:
A portion of a poem by my brother, Jake Tucker

It's a shift in focus

From changing to waiting

Christ taught us to pray

"Thy Kingdom come"

Instead of bringing it

I wait for it to come

In lethargy I have great patience

Heaven is supposed to come down

Descend to earth

Heaven is not someplace far away

Someplace to go when we die

Heaven is near,

it is knocking

It is availible

NOW

It will start to come in me

Heaven will come

When I see people as what they are

Art

Created in the image of God

Each made with divinity dripping from every pour

Each the pinnacle of creation

Each made with more care

detail, attention,

and love

Than I can fathom

Each one the Creator took a step back from

To get a better look

Decided

With tears welling up

from the bottom of him

That it was good

it was very good

Heaven will come when every tear is dried from tired eyes

When every head is lifted

When pain and mourning cease

When hope dawns

When love finally conquers

once and for all

So, lord haste the day

when my faith shall be sight

the clouds be rolled back as a scoll

the trump shall resound

The lord descend

and Dancers will dance upon injustice

As you leave, as the art of the Father, re-created in the Son, and re-creating through the Spirit, today, you do not go. You do not leave. The Kingdom is in you. May you see and embrace God’s art. May you sell everything for the Kingdom.