Tag Archives: sarcasm

what do I stand for?

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It has been too long. February and March came and went and here I sit, a third of the way through April and I haven’t taken the time to post. Ah well, such is life I guess. My internship keeps me busy, and I am loving every minute of it. The people who I am lucky enough to serve are nothing short of wonderful. Lent was a handful, but it is now ended and I am hoping in the coming months to get back to some kind of rhythm, both here and at the office.

As I lie here, knowing that my alarm will go off in a few short hours, I cannot seem to get a song out of my head, “Some Nights” by Fun. I’m not saying that it is the best song in the world, but it is catchy, and since the Blackhawks developed a scoreboard video using it, well, it gets a place in my playlist. What I appreciate about the song is the question it thrusts to the forefront, a haunting question, what do I stand for? It isn’t an easy question to answer. I know that once I do answer it someone will inevitably be pissed off by it. But that is the easy part, because I know that no matter what someone always will be upset. The hard part of that question, is answering it for, or rather to, myself.

I had thoughts recently of migrating from wordpress over to another format, though I don’t think that will actually happen anytime soon if ever. While I was planning on it, the place I was attempting to migrate to did not give me the option of simply importing all my posts, I had to copy and paste them one by one. Well, as mind numbing as that may be, it gave me a chance to look over some of my earlier writing. If you have the time to look at it, don’t. In saying this I do not believe I am being overly critical. Rather, I am being honest. As I read the words penned in a different frame of mind I am struck by how much I was speaking from a place of hurt. Pain and anger dripped from every single syllable. I stopped that process at about the fourth one, I couldn’t take it anymore.

It was a humbling experience. I was reminded of the fact that those who teach will be judged more harshly, and to be sure that judgment is warranted. It is hard for me to wrap my mind around some of the things that came out of my mouth. And yet, I know at the time I stood strongly behind it. I am certain that I would have fiercely defended my position, and more than that, would have been convinced of my correctness and written off opposition as ignorant. That is, after all, always my problem. Whether people see it in me or not, I know I am an arrogant cuss. I try to fight it, but for one reason or another it always, inevitably, comes out, and although I am not proud of that fact, I know it is true. Others may not see it, because I do well to hide it, or wait to express it until I am alone with my thoughts, but trust me, I know I am an arrogant cuss.

And so here I sit, unable to sleep, knowing I was wrong to write what I wrote in the past, certain that at the time I thought I was right, assured of my own arrogance which can be blinding, and waiting for the day I go back and read this one and feel the exact same way. But rather than be afraid of that, I am trying to embrace it. Because while it is true I am not the person I was 3 years ago, 2 years ago, heck, 2 weeks ago, I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I know I have changed, I’ve cooled off my hot head somewhat, put those theological hand grenades back in my pocket rather than throwing them on the table, and came to grips with some truths about my presuppositions and beliefs. And rather than dwell on the fact that I may have lost some of my edge, some of what made me who I was, I feel like I have gained some perspective. I feel like maybe for the first time in a long time I have a pretty good idea of who I actually am and what I actually stand for.

In the end, I think that is what matters right now, that I know where I stand. For so long I felt pulled in different directions, I felt the need to justify my place and my beliefs and today I feel comfortable, secure even, in where I have landed. I am a Lutheran, a moderately conservative one at that, and while those words may or may not seem loaded to you, they are not the easiest ones for me to type out. Because that label was so loaded with pain and anger, I did all that I could to avoid it. But I can’t avoid it anymore. I can’t pretend that I am still that guy I was three years ago. I won’t apologize for coming to terms with what was once my enemy.  And who knows, maybe one day I will wake up and take this post back, recant it all because I came to some new realization.

But it’s ok. I dont need to know now if that will be the case later on because right now, in this moment, I can take comfort in the fact that my identity, security, and meaning do not stem from my fickle temperament and feelings. They rest solely and securely in the reality that in my baptism as an infant I was given an identity. I was given a faith in God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I was sealed, adopted, promised of my place for eternity, not because I thought it was a good idea at the time, but because God did what God does best. And that is the hope I can take with me. That is the hope that ensures that no matter what else I may become, I was first and will forever be, a baptized child of God. No matter what assails me, this is my identity, this is what I stand for. Or perhaps better put, this is what stands for me.

thy strong Word…

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It has been a nice break the last few weeks. I decided when Christmas rolled around to take a break from blogging for a while. I figured I’d pick it back up sometime after New Year’s and today is that day. Not only is it my return from a mini-sabbatical but it also marks the beginning of my Winter Quarter here at sem. Once again it seems the next 10 weeks are filled with a seemingly insurmountable reading list, more papers than I can write, and less time to give to other areas of my life. I suppose it’s not that big of a deal that my break is over. I mean, it’s been nice to have time off, but I have filled it with more useless and mind numbing activities than ones that might be of some benefit. Although, I suppose that is what break is best for, a release. A time to step back and recharge using whatever means we have or benefit from.

The quarter started off as usual as any other. Ill prepared I walked into class, banking on the fact that nothing of substance happens the first day anyway. And although I was right that nothing major happens as far as the syllabus is concerned, I was surprised at how much this first day of class seemed to provide things to ponder. Take for instance my Internship II class. People told stories all about how busy they were over the break and when it came to me all I had to say was that I actually had a break. Rather than despair over it, I rejoiced in it, because I have a feeling that I won’t get many more of those. It seemed like so many people had the Christmas/New Years worship services dominate their landscape at precisely the time people should be able to relax.

Though I guess relaxation isn’t the name of the game during holidays. Parties, cooking, shopping, and a myriad of other activities often dot the landscape of the holiday season more so than taking the time to do nothing. And it was that doing nothing I hoped would carry on through the first day of classes, only my brain had other plans. I don’t talk much in classes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not doing anything, at least in most classes. I tend to keep my comments to myself because I don’t want to speak up every time I have a thought, if I did, nobody else would get a chance to speak. Today it so happened I was able to avoid dropping my two cents in, only I wonder if I should have spoken up.

The topic of discussion centered around the idea that the father-in-law of Moses told him that he needed other people to help him do what he was doing. This in turn meant, apparently, that pastors or leaders in the church must do likewise because it is not up to them to carry the burden alone. I do agree that pastors and leaders need to create boundaries so that they are not overwhelmed or neglectful to themselves or their families but I don’t know if this is the place to go to defend that idea. I’m not Moses. I’m not in charge of a huge group of people wandering the desert. But this was not my issue, being at a seminary with Baptist roots I’m used to people using scripture anyway they want. My issue was that people seemed to use humility and piety as a smoke screen to abdicate responsibility.

This is perhaps a little too harsh but I was getting the feeling that the pendulum has swung too far the other direction. Where once the pastor was a respected and valued part of a community and was differed to in all matters, they now find themselves squarely on the other end of the stick. Either apologizing for something they didn’t do, pretending things didn’t happen or don’t matter, or clinging to the idea that people hate truth. In some ways they have brought this rejection of the office upon themselves, but I wonder if the way to fix it is to say pastors need to assert emphatically or altogether abdicate their authority.

I have often found myself struggling with the idea and necessity of the office of pastor. I don’t know if they would even exist in a perfect world. But I don’t get to deal with a perfect world, I live in a broken one, but not one void of hope. Part of my struggle rests upon the examples of those who call themselves pastor, not because they have done things well or poorly, but because everyone seems to have a different opinion of what a pastor does. This has reared its ugly head most visibly during the sermon. Not so much in delivery style, but in the content. Sermons can often fall into a few different categories, not the least bit concerned with delivery, but focused squarely upon the point being made, or the hidden curriculum being taught. They validate themselves, invalidate others, purport an understanding, expound upon a difficult passage, but they all tend to have one thing in common, they frustrate me.

Those of you who have sat near me during a worship service may have noticed that I take little notes. These notes, even though I would like to pretend are my way of trying to remember some key point of inspiration, are often sarcastic comments. Having studied theology for the better part of a decade I feel like there isn’t much for me during sermons in the way of communicating knowledge. This is an arrogant statement, but it is honest. I know it isn’t right. I know I need to be humble. I know there is so much so many preachers can teach me, but in a sermon, I don’t want to be taught. I want my reality to change. Life outside the walls of a church is often harsh. It’s as busy, loud, contradictory, and frustrating as any endeavor one could attempt. It has times of joy and sorrow, peace and war, love and hate. It is often quick to teach you something you don’t know or forgot. I wonder then, when the people of God come together isn’t  the last thing that should be happening is more of what the world passes off for life?

The last few years have been quite a journey for me, with each passing day I am realizing more and more that the traditions of my youth are now my own, not because they have to be, but because I believe them to be right and for the first time I am willing to go to the mat for them. One of these traditions is a strong focus on the Word of God. By this I don’t necessarily mean the Bible, although the Bible falls into this category. Instead I mean the Word of God, Christ. The Word that was in the beginning.  The Word that brought things into being. The Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. The Word that chose to bear the burden on the cross. The Word that suffered, died, was buried, and rose again. The Word that changed reality as we know and experience it.

But it is not enough to understand this Word. Because this Word is not a static idea, it is a person to be apprehended. The Word says what it does, and does what it says. The Word changes reality, here and now, just as it did in days long since passed. The Word proclaims a new reality, one defined not by our inability to do or not do, but instead reliant solely upon the veracity of the Word itself. A Word that leaves one faced not with understanding, but with belief.

This is why sermons and worship services tend to frustrate me, because they do not bring this Word to bear on my life. This Word that changes my reality. I have always struggled with the idea of being a pastor. But if being a pastor means I get to bring this Word to bear on the lives of people. If it means that I get to enter in to a situation with the ability to proclaim a new reality, based not upon myself but upon God himself. If it means that my life becomes not about my ability to understand or teach, but about the Word’s ability to change lives, then sign me up.

There is so much uncertainty in the world. Who am I going to be in ten years? What the next paycheck is going to cover? Where the next meal is coming from? When will we start a family? Why did this have to happen today? How will we make it through not just the next month, but the next 24 hours? In a world that seems more eager to dictate fear than certainty the Word steps in and silences the cacophony. It reminds me that I am his. It reminds me that my future is secured. It reminds me that life is not about myself. But it does more than just remind, it acts. It creates. It brings certainty. It changes my reality. In the words of the old hymn…

 

Thy strong Word did cleave the darkness;
At thy speaking it was done.
For created light we thank Thee
While thine ordered seasons run
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise to thee who light dost send!
Alleluia without end!

Lo, on those who dwelt in darkness,
Dark as night and deep as death,
Broke the light of thy salvation,
Breathed thine own life-giving breath.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise to thee who light dost send!
Alleluia without end!

Thy strong Word bespeaks us righteous;
Bright with thine own holiness,
Glorious now, we press toward glory,
And our lives our hopes confess.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise to thee who light dost send!
Alleluia without end!

From the cross thy wisdom shining
Breaketh forth in conqu’ring might;
From the cross forever beameth
All thy bright redeeming light.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise to Thee who light dost send!
Alleluia without end!

Give us lips to sing thy glory,
Tongues thy mercy to proclaim,
Throats to shout the hope that fills us,
Mouths to speak thy holy name.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
May the light which thou dost send,
Fill our songs with alleluias,
Alleluias without end!

God the Father, light-creator,
To Thee laud and honor be.
To Thee, Light from Light begotten,
Praise be sung eternally.
Holy Spirit, light-revealer,
Glory, glory be to Thee.
Mortals, angels, now and ever
Praise the Holy Trinity!

Thy Strong Word
Text: Martin H. Franzmann

and when necessary

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All I can seem to think right now is WTF. Last week brought into my life a perspective that had been missing for so long and tonight, one that has plagued me is back in full force. I really don’t know where to begin or if you even care to hear the tale, but tonight I feel like I did in seventh grade, only this time it matters.

Way back then I was in one of those grade school relationships that never go anywhere but you think are everything. Well I can’t remember how short it lasted but I do remember how it ended, with a phone call, from her friend. Thats right, the girl never called me to tell me it was over, she had her friend do it. Tonight I got a different phone call, not from the person who should have done it, but from someone else with the answer I didn’t want to hear.

As part of my master’s program I have to participate in two ten week long internships. These internships require me to be involved with some sort of ministry and spend time, at least an hour a week, with an advisor. You don’t have to have a fancy title or get paid, you just need to be a part of something bigger than yourself for 15 hours a week.  I wanted my internship to be at the church I grew up in. The last couple of months have been sort of a healing process for me. Over a year ago I walked away from my church’s seminary never wanting to engage with that group of people ever again. I was hurt and felt betrayed. The two quarters I have spent back in a different seminary environment have allowed me to reassess where I am and who I am and were truly instrumental in rebuilding the fractured person I had become. In the last couple of months I finally worked up the courage to go back to my home church, something I feared because I didn’t know how they would react to finding out I left the sem. It was good, I was hopeful, and thought there was no better place to do that internship than the place I grew up in, too bad they felt differently.

Like I said, tonight I got a phone call, but instead of hearing news that the board of elders approved my internship, they simply felt it was too much for the church to take on as it is in a period of transition. Rather than go into the gory details I’ll simply say that it has been in this period of transition for over two years. In fact, there is a long line of broken and hurting people who would say its been going on a lot longer than that. Tonight my name was etched onto that list. I feel betrayed, like someone else was chosen over me. Instead of working toward a both/and (as all I was really asking for was the chance to help out, without monetary compensation, and take up only an hour of someones time for 2 separate ten week periods) the either/or decision was made and I get the raw end of the deal.

Last week, when I was processing all that transpired I wondered if I had made the right decision to leave the sem.  There was still a part of me that wanted to believe that place, not only the sem but the denomination, really cared. That I mattered to them. What better place to go to find that assurance than the place I grew up? But all I found was another taste of the drink that makes me bitter. The drink that reminds me why I left. The drink that shows me the either/or means more to them than the both/and. I don’t know if I will ever understand that. How can we choose one over the other? Why do we say there can be only one?

I know that I am hurting right now. That I am bruised. That I feel betrayed. That I am probably being naive and idealistic in thinking that if they really cared about me they, or someone, would have found or fought for a way to make it work. Frankly though, I hope I never lose that idealism. I believe in a better way. A way that fights for people and does all it can to help those who need it. A way that doesn’t choose between an either/or but accomplishes the both/and. A way that doesn’t care about the past but seeks always to move forward. A way where we all, regardless of the identities we hold,  walk alongside one another, and when necessary, carry those who do not have the strength to walk.

thank you Sarah…

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Tuesday of this week began like any other. I woke up early, as my wife and I have lost the ability to sleep in. I stepped out of the room for just a minute to find one thing or another and upon my return noticed a missed call and a text. Most days I tend to ignore things like this, a “if something is important they’ll call back” approach. That morning my approach was buttressed by the fact that the missed call was from someone with a young child, and I figured the kid accidentally dialed me. But the text, this was one I couldn’t ignore. My response to the text was met with a, hang on I’ll call you soon, but I could not wait for that so I cooked up a story about being at work, which was going to happen, just not until 1pm. It was then I was told that a friend from college was found dead in her apartment the day before. I was shocked.

My mind began to race with questions. How? Who found her? What happened? But at the time little was known and if it was known, people weren’t saying much. Those questions gave way to others. Who knows? How are my other friends taking it? How can I help? After texting a few other people and making some other phone calls I realized that there was no way I could handle going to work that day. Needless to say my mental and emotional state became compromised and it would stay that way for the next 48 hours.

To be sure there were others closer to her than me. In fact, I hadn’t seen or heard from her since graduation a couple of years ago. All I knew was that she ended up working out in Colorado and seeing as I was no where near there, she faded from my mind. Going to the small liberal arts college that I did, it was hard not to know just about everyone. She was part of my larger group of friends throughout school. We would all eat meals together in the cafeteria, watch movies together, and of course, shoot the shit at the bars every once in a while. But like every group of friends there were those times when conversations became heated, sarcastic remarks were made, and feelings were hurt. And as much as I would love to believe that I never really hurt someone with my sarcasm I know I’ve pissed off and hurt more than a few. My relationship with her would vacillate between the former and the latter all throughout college. That day of graduation was the last I would see of her, never giving it a second thought until I got that text letting me know she had passed.

This is the first time in my life I have dealt with the death of someone my own age. I did not know how to handle it. In a word it was surreal. It did not seem like the conversations I was having throughout the day about her were real. Surely someone from that group of friends could not all of a sudden be dead, I mean, we are all mid twenties, on the way to starting our post collegiate lives. In an instant though, it all changed. The meaning of certain things in life was suddenly no where to be found. My job for example. I love where I work. I have never worked for a better company or have known that I am valued by my managers and coworkers, not only as an employee but as a person. Yet, the 48 hours that followed that text called in to question the value of what I was doing. I even considered quitting my job because of the lack of meaning it suddenly held for me. After all, essentially all I do is sell people things, things they can’t take with them. Sure now the toys are wonderful and enrich your life, but in an instant all of that can change.

Throughout my college years I wanted to become a pastor in the denomination I grew up in. I saw so much corruption and became jaded and full of disgust for both the theology and practice and thought it was up to me to change it. And as I went to sem and saw other people chewed up and spit back out by the machine I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was not going to waste my time with a bunch of people who care more about protecting their own collective rear ends instead of caring for those entrusted to their care. So I left. I quit. I gave up. I got married, found a job, and almost walked away from it all completely. But inside me I knew I couldn’t stay away from those theological circles. I have a mind for it and I know it is my place. So I came back to a different sem to finish what I started and hopefully move on to another arena. But these last few days have showed me something else, something I don’t think I could have learned without that text. Philosophical and theological assertions matter, they do, but its not worth fighting over. Its not worth losing people over. Its not worth pissing people off just to be right. What matters are not ideas, not systems, not assertions, but people. Flesh and blood.

I want anyone reading this to know that I love you. No matter who you are. No matter what you have done. No matter what your stance on an issue is. If I have ever pissed you off, frustrated you, or hurt you I am sorry. You matter. Your life matters. Your existence enriches mine because we are both a part of humanity. For so many years I have hid behind a veil of sarcasm because I was afraid to let people know how much I actually care about them. But life is too short. I can’t hide anymore. I cannot change what has happened in the past. I wish I could. But the fact remains she is gone and that is one relationship I will never have a chance at deepening.

I don’t know where I go from here or what any of this means for my life tomorrow and the next day. But I do know this…

Sarah Walker, your life and death have impacted me in ways nobody, not even me, expected, and in ways you will never know. Our friendship, the way I treated you, good and bad, taught me more in the last couple of days than I have learned in the last couple of years. Thank you for teaching me its ok to show people I care because now I know that I may never get the chance.

it is what it is

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It has been well over two weeks since I last stared at the blank box on the screen hoping to be imbued with some sort of coherent thought which may or may be of value to someone other than myself. While Id like to think I was too busy to take the time the truth is I have had plenty of time. I spent off days watching movies, reading books, playing games, and doing whatever else suited my fancy. Sure there were a few days of work in there and a couple days of feeling sick to my stomach but by and large I know I had the time to write yet for some reason I could never bring myself to do it.

If only it were a lack of ideas, a desire not to sound pedantic, or some other valid excuse I had for not putting my fingers to the keys, but no, I just couldn’t do it. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because after that time of reinvigoration I found myself confronted with some old skeletons in the closet that have a way of draining the life out of me. I came back from vacation relaxed and ready to take on the month of July no matter what it brought. Yes there have been some really fantastic times but still, those skeletons found me.

Friends struggling with, losing or quitting jobs, others battling cancer, and still others people being pressured to do something or act a certain way because, as we all know, we all live lives in a fishbowl and there is always a party line to tow. Rather than waste time writing about each and every situation, which I did consider doing, I let those situations fester. What else could I do? I was not in any position to change the circumstances and blogging about it would just have been another adventure in being jaded.

But as I sit here tonight, punching away at the keys, the faces and names of those in my life who are struggling keep flying through my mind. It is here that those skeletons rear their ugly heads in the form of questions. Did I do the right thing by walking away? Was there something I could have done if I would have stuck it out in St. Louis? Now that I am going who else is there to protect and defend those whose voices will never be heard? Is there a way back? Should I even attempt it? I don’t know. The altruistic idealist in me has an answer, so does the jaded cynic. And so I ask myself yet again, what am I to do?

Recently, a turn of phrase has worked its way into my regular vocabulary, it is what it is. There are those with whom I interact who could never hear that phrase again and be happy about it because I have been using it so much. But the reason I am is because of the need I have right now to remind myself that I do not have control over the situations I so desperately want to. But beyond that need to remind myself of my lack of control this phrase urges me on to deal with things as they come at me. It pushes me, forces me to interact with those situations as they are, not as I would like them to be. It would be really easy for me to sit back and magically fix things and change them to the way I want or think they should be but reality doesn’t work that way.

Things happen. People change and so do circumstances. Rather than run from them, be afraid of them, or think that I could have done something to prevent it, I need to engage it, as it is. I need to stand along side my friend and remind him that he is stronger than he thinks. I need to be there for those who have been hurt and are jaded like me, because I know that pain and that road is too tough to walk alone. For every person flying through my mind right now I know there is something I can do. It may not be much. It may not fix anything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be who I need to be, where I need to be, for who I need to be.

Life.

It is what it is.

But that doesn’t mean we have to go through it alone.

the reality is…

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I should probably be in bed right now seeing as I have to wake up in a little less than 6 hours to make the 12 hour drive back to Chicago from the “Commonwealth of Virginia.” But instead of falling asleep my mind is running a muck and so here I sit before my computer screen trying to process the vacation that was. It was, in a word, relaxing. I didn’t have to work. I didn’t have to do much of anything other than go swimming and fix the occasional dinner for the family. I got to play some cribbage with my wife’s grandpa and father and go see a couple of movies. All in all it was a great vacation, one I don’t want to come back from.

But the real world beckons. I need to get back to work and make a little money to help pay some bills. I need to get some things in order for the upcoming school year and I need to spend some time with my wife. And so once again I am faced with a reality, one that may not be everything I want, seeing as Id rather get paid to do nothing any day of the week, but one that I need to embrace if I am going to continue living on.

This was something I was reminded about on the fourth of July. Rather than go off and party, as we had done that on the second, I spent this past fourth with my wife who caught a stomach bug and believe me it was an all day event. Seeing as I had some time I decided to find a copy of a now famous speech Frederick Douglas gave on the fourth of July back in the 1850′s. (Full copy of the speech here) In that speech he posed the following…

“Fellow-citizens, pardon me, allow me to ask, why am I called upon to speak here to-day? What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence? Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied in that Declaration of Independence, extended to us? and am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering to the national altar, and to confess the benefits and express devout gratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?”

He was speaking of course about the irony of a black man speaking on a day about independence and freedom when their lives were full of anything but. The fourth of July has never really held a special place in my heart. That is not to say I am not grateful for the freedom I enjoy every day, its just that the fourth of July was never my favorite of holidays. I tend to find the massive displays of patriotism trotted out for a few days a year to turn my stomach. Despite my  cynicism, this year, as I read that speech I was reminded of the fact that as we celebrate a day of independence and freedom there are those who experience too little of that. I thought about all those who aren’t allowed to marry and all of those who, while free to choose, are bound by guilt, embarrassment and shame and forced into a situation that might not be the best choice. I also thought about those who aren’t free to sleep under a roof because a roof isn’t free. All around as a nation celebrated its independence and freedom there are those who are not able to experience it.

And then, as the day turned from the fourth to the fifth I read something else, a not guilty verdict. And then something equivalent to a social media atomic bomb went off and everyone had something to say about it. I guess what struck me the most is that one day we laud freedom and the next we scorn it. Where is our responsibility to her or any other perpetrator of a crime? Should not our love and compassion extend to her as well? Sure the case could have been clear cut, but guess what, the jury of her peers found her not guilty and so she sleeps tonight not guilty. What you or I think about her innocence matters little.  But that does not mean we cannot use this example to spur us on to something else.

So here we all are faced with a reality we may not want but one we have to embrace if we are going to keep on living. What reality is that? One that forces us to action. Unless I am moved to make a difference in the lives of those who cannot experience or embrace the freedom so many of us live in every day then thinking about it is worthless. Rather than complain about the not guilty verdict, which will change nothing, we should be concerned about the situations so many other young children and older people are in and try to do something about it. This is the reality we are faced with, a broken, hurting, violent, mean, scared world. One that will eat us up and vomit us back out. But it is one we face together.

All of this is to say that the end isn’t written yet. The story isn’t finished. Tomorrow I wake up and drive back to Chicago and then Thursday is a brand new day. But what am I going to do with that day or the next. I can choose to go through life thinking about those I did on the fourth, or that poor little girl and her mother or I can embrace reality and be moved to do something about it. I hope I have the courage to do the latter.

let the adventures begin

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Last night, as I attempted to finish the book I was reading, I found my eyes wandering from the sentence I was finishing to the toddler on the TV screen. One of my wife’s guilty pleasures, and mine too, is watching trashy TV. In this case “trashy TV” manifested itself in the form of Toddlers in Tiaras. This episode was particularly intriguing to me because of one the parents insistence that her “conservative Christian faith” plays a pivotal role in pageantry.

I couldn’t help but scoff throughout each scene when this woman espoused her fanatical fundamentalist perspective. I about lost it when the woman uttered the following… “I had to pray real hard about the spray tan.” I could not stop laughing. This was the apex. She prayed about everything from the costumes to the routines her 6 year old daughter would do and it reached its zenith in the spray tan. I had to share my awe with people and so I tweeted/posted a status on facebook relaying the hilarity of the situation I was witnessing.

Immediately though I was confronted with the arrogance of what I had done because after my tweet I went back to reading that book. What book? Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margins of Error by Kathryn Schulz. **(To watch a short video about the ideas in the book click here) Ironic to say the least. Here I am reading a book about how embracing error helps to fundamentally change the way we interact with ourselves, the world, and others because it opens us up to new possibilities and I am delighting in the (perceived) error of another. I say (perceived) because who is really to say that she is wrong in that notion? From my perspective she’s an idiot, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees her that way but that doesn’t mean she really is an idiot.

This is one of the ways Kathryn Schulz describes how we treat people when we think they are wrong. We either think they are ignorant, idiots, or evil. If I take a minute to think about people I think are wrong I tend to put them into these three categories. This is especially true when I think people are wrong theologically. I am notorious for being a smart-ass and in college I was even more notorious for being a condescending smart-ass when I disagreed with you. I can think of several scenarios where I labeled someone ignorant, idiotic, or an evil piece of… work.

For good or for bad theology is the discipline I have found a home in. For the last 7 years I have studied it at both the undergraduate and graduate level. I have the ability to interact with the text in its original languages. But all of that training does not mean I am going to get everything right. Even those with more letters after their names who have even more training than I do, they too will not get everything right. Being someone who is perspectival I have, at least over the past few years, grown in my appreciation of other perspectives. Still though, not every perspective is one I embrace and I still find myself calling people idiots or ignorant because of their inability to see beyond their own perspective.

This is not their problem though, its mine. Theology as a discipline prides itself on being right, on having the truth or at least being able to explain it. It is no wonder then that people speak the way they do and it is also no wonder that I become so frustrated by their (perceived) wrongness. So then what can I do? I can either keep getting pissed or condescending because they don’t see things way I do or I change the way I interact, not only with people, but with the discipline itself.

Being wrong is something we run from because from an early age we know that being wrong is a bad thing. This is the notion that Kathryn Schulz challenges. Rather than seeing wrongness as something we should shy away from it should be something we embrace. Think of it this way, when we are kids everything is an adventure because we dont know everything. Wrongness puts us back into that same position. Being wrong opens us back up to the adventure that is life.

So what does this have to do with the theological task? First, I am not right about everything. Second, neither is anybody else. When it comes to theology this is most certainly true. Not Luther. Not Calvin. Not Walther. Not Zwinglii. Not Even Paul. Or John. Or Peter. And rather than shy away from this or try and justify some longheld belief we need to enter into theology as a kid enters the world. Not with knowledge but a sense of adventure. I know I am going to be wrong about a lot of things. But this is not something I should fear because being wrong doesn’t mean I’m evil, it means I’m human. So rather than approach theology as a place where truth reigns, I want to approach it as a place where adventures are had . As a place where I’m surprised by what happens. A place that doesn’t see wrongness as a thing to be avoided but sees it as integral to the discipline as it is to life.

no more runnin…

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770 miles later here I sit in an old favorite coffee shop of mine. No, I did not make the road trip just for the wonderful coffee they serve here, it just so happens to be a bonus. This is not to say that there aren’t plenty of coffee shops that offer succulent variations of the coffee bean, it just so happens that I like the atmosphere here and the coffee is wonderful. It reminds me of a place I used to frequent back in my days in St. Louis called Kaldis. It has been quite a while since I set foot in one but the coffee and atmosphere of a Kaldis is unforgettable. It really was one of the bright spots in an otherwise tumultuous campaign at the sem down there.

To be sure there were other bright spots. I don’t mean to sound so overly critical of my time spent in St. Louis but if I were to be honest it was two years that broke me down emotionally and spiritually. There were those people though, the ones who were the bright spots. They kept me sane, they pushed me further, they challenged me to become something better than I was. You fellow scoffers, you know who you are, I will never forget you guys. So much time has passed since we last sat out by the chapel, smoking cigars, having an adult beverage, our conversation dripping with sarcasm and discontent. So many days and nights have passed since then but in some ways I feel that I am right back in front of that chapel. Why? Because sometimes the only way for me to process what I am experiencing is by having a good sarcastic session of word vomit.

Take last night for example. My sister-in-law had a dance recital which lasted 3, count them, 3 hours. I could not help but be overly critical of what I was witnessing. I found it so ironic that the same parents who would clamor about teens being too sexual and TV being responsible for that sex drive put their kids in a program like that. And yet, I know I am overly critical, but sometimes I wonder if people are critical enough. Thats why I really appreciated that old group of scoffers, we were the critics. Sure, no body outside of our group heard the critiques so who knows if it was even worth the time, but if nothing else we helped each other process what was going on.

But sometimes I feel like that is all I ever do, process. I sit back in my chair, critique anything and everything and don’t throw my hat into the ring because I see it as a lost cause. To be sure there is a reason for this, its called college. Back in college I threw my dog into every fight I could. It didn’t matter if I really cared about the subject or not, I had something to say and I said it, especially when I knew it would take things too far. I felt it was my duty. However, in the end all I feel like I did was piss a lot of people off, except my friends and sometimes even them too. Then came seminary. Every day fellow students and even faculty openly and mercilessly ridiculed people and positions I held or respected. It was funny for them to scoff at people who were pro-choice or pro equal marriage rights. To them those people were just dumb. I knew where I stood and so I began to sink within myself. I wasn’t the only one, my best friend quit and another close friend was forced to leave because he didn’t fit the mold. We were all broken.

However, over the last few months I have begun to find my voice again. I dont know where or how, I am sure it has something to do with the place I am at in life both literally and figuratively. I may not always agree with the positions of my current fellow students or faculty but the difference now is that its ok to disagree and they at least are willing to listen.

But beyond the new sem I am at there is something else different. Its like I am settled. For the last year I have been running from the person I know that I am. Running and hiding because I was scared something would try and break me down again and I would lose even more than I had before. I feel a little like the browncoat hero Malcolm Reynolds of Firefly lore. Broken and for a while just trying to fly and be free of anything that would seek to force him to be something he is not. The sem is my battle of Serenity Valley and to be sure it was one I lost. But now I am in a position to be me again. The group I meet with on Mondays is just a start, I feel like more is to come. Now more than ever I am critical, but the difference is I know I need to use that critique to affect change. I need to use that voice I once lost. And as the great Malcolm Reynolds once said, “So no more runnin’, I aim to misbehave.”

bungle in the jungle

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Tonight as I made my way to meet up with some folks at a nearby coffee shop the song of which this post is titled came on to the radio. I have always been a fan of Jethro Tull, judge me as you will, and I have always found within their lyrics some sort of philosophical handle or idea toward which I gravitate. Tonight was no exception.

I am part of a group currently reading through Love Wins by Rob Bell. Most assuredly the book has ruffled a few feathers amongst the orthodox Christians out there because of Bell’s intense desire to ask questions and because of the answers at which he arrives. Say what you will, what I really appreciate about the book is the fact that it asks questions, it brings up for discussion those things which seem to have been long forgotten.

This is not foreign to Christianity. The history of Christendom is full of people who asked questions and dared to purport a position in opposition to an accepted belief. For every picture of God Christians paint there is another hanging right next to it in the gallery. Every affirmation comes with a negation and every position with its counterposition. After all, the Nicene Creed did not just appear for no reason. For as long as there has been those who purport differing ideas there have been those who stand in opposition to it. Arius is not unique in history because he stood in opposition but because of how he did it, rather, because of what he stood for. It was his position the Nicene Creed attacks and then affirms the contrary. But again, this is not some strange phenomena, it has happened time and again.

Ask two people in America what “the story” or “the point” of Christianity is and you will get two different answers. Sure there could be agreement, but even among those who agree there are differences. For every affirmation of a position there seems to be a negation. It seems as though Christians straddle the line between orthodoxy and heresy and actually uphold both positions quite well sometimes.

Take for example the bible, long held to be the inspired inerrant word of God. For many this book is just that, a book. You can touch it, hold it, pull it off your shelf, dust it off, open it up, read it, and then put it back. This is a relatively new experience for Christians because of the fact that until the 16th Century bibles were not written in the language of the common person. If you go even further back, 3oo years existed when the church didnt even have a codified New Testament. Some books were affirmed, others were questionable. Even those that were the authors are in question. The text itself can even be questioned. And somehow the church has survived. Now it seems Christians base everything off of this book which didn’t even exist for a good portion of the early days and for most of history was not accessible to most people and at best is a collection of works that may or may not have been written by those who claim it if that text is really even the text originally written. How then can that book be the basis when for a majority of those who went before the book did not posess the same authoritative nature? As John Caputo would say, the archive has become the arche, the icon the idol. Any position contrary to that orthodox one of inerrancy is heresy right? Yet there is so much evidence to the contrary.

So I come face to face with this paradox. On the one hand you have a long held position or belief, traditional orthodoxy. On the other hand though, you have dissention and differing ideas. You have interpretation winning the day. Not just about the bible but about Christianity itself. Can all the pictures we paint be true? How do we navigate between the two seemingly contradictory assertions that Christians have an orthodox position and continually question that position? This is why that Jethro Tull song was so apropos for tonight because…

he who made kittens put snakes in the grass

let’s bungle in the jungle, well thats alright by me
i’m a tiger when I want love and a snake when we disagree

So maybe then the way  I am approaching things needs to change. Am I open to questions about both? To real attacks that penetrate the surface of both my orthodoxy and my deconstructive nature? Am I willing to hold my beliefs so loosely that I can straddle the line even closer than before. Am I willing to stand in that place? To embrace the paradox and ambiguity amidst the certainty.

Maybe the point is not what I believe but how I believe it.

so here goes…

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Later today my wife and her family are going to be putting their dog down. SoCo, yes he is named for Southern Comfort, has had a life full of love, but also a life of health problems. It is no shock that his time has run out as he has been struggling immensely for the last few months, but still, he has carried on and it seems as though he can carry on no longer. His life may not have been what my wife’s family had dreamed it would be, but it was a good life for a dog.

It seems as though a lot of things in my life are turning out different than I thought they would. Back when I was a freshman in college, some 7 years ago this August, I did not know what I was even doing by going to college. I did not know who I would meet or what I would do. Over time I began to think that I was destined, along with my close group of friends, to affect change. To bring down walls and break down systems. But 7 years later I can tell you it wasn’t me or my friends who brought the system down, it was the system who broke us down.

The groups I was a part of were once vibrant and alive, now they are nearly nonexistent. The adults in charge were once perceived as bulletproof, but I have seen them take their hits. This ebb and flow of life, while not unexpected, forces me to continually redefine or re-imagine my place in this world. Once I did not see my self as amounting to much. As time went on I thought that maybe I could have an impact. When I went to sem I was broken in two and left for dead. But now, as I live a life renewed I realize that there is actually no place I’d rather be than the one I am in. I have a great job, a loving wife, and I am going to school to finish what I started. Sure it isn’t in the same place I thought it would. And yes, the people I was once close to are now nowhere to be found. But the fact remains that I am being pushed and challenged in ways I never have before.

This morning I had a chance to catch the commencement address that Conan O’Brien gave to the 2011 graduating class at Dartmouth. If you have not watched it I suggest you do. (CLICK HERE). Despite the hilarity that emanates from the comedic genius that is Conan O’Brien, he notes something that I have experienced to be true. Your dreams will change, and that’s ok. Whatever you think you are now, wherever you think you are going, this too will change. I know it has for me. And rather than sit back and seek to go back to some romanticized version of the past where everything seems to be better than it really was I want to keep moving forward. Building up and tearing down. Deconstructing and affirming. Doing all of those things that challenge me and push me to arenas I didn’t know existed.

As cliche as it sounds, things change. But rather than run from the fight I want to run to it. Rather than sit back and defend that which I have, I seek to place that in harms way. So here goes…

I am a postmodern. I do not believe this excludes me from Christianity as some claim. I admire satirists. I seek to change the way people see, understand, and interact with theology, the church, God, and each other. I am a husband. A son. A student. Sarcastic. Jaded. Perspectival. Open to challenge and questions. Unfinished in my thoughts and philosophy. Constantly evaluating where I am and where I am going.

And although this is where I am today it doesn’t mean Ill be there tomorrow. And thats ok. Life does not need to be figured out, it need only be experienced.