I want to come back...

So a friend of mine recently turned me on to a blog and radio talk show dude named Steve Brown. You may already know of him, but I didn't. So check him out if you want at here.

Here's a quote from his website that might get you interested.

I just can’t go there and be faithful to what I believe, experience and see in almost everyone. People who go down the path of obsessive obedience and faithfulness almost always hit a wall and go through horrible disappointment, darkness and pain. Once they’ve been there and failed…

…they often don’t come back.

I honestly believe in radical freedom that comes from God’s unconditional and unbelievable mercy and grace, and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. That freedom sometimes offends others, sometimes it increases sin for a season, and sometimes it looks skewed and out of the box. But those who know it…

…always come back.

rest of story here

Turning off a light bulb for lent

Interesting article a friend of mine passed on.

http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/02/bishops-tell-ch.html

The Pages of my Bookshelf

Chick Magnet

Recently, a good friend of mine tried to convince me that I need to buy a new car. This happened after we(my car and I) were blindsided by the car demons with a three-pronged, attack consisting of a failing CV joint, broken exhaust pipe, and a bad starter or battery. For the record, I own a 1988, not too shiny but ever so faithful, Honda Civic Hatchback. It was as if he had been withholding his thoughts and waiting for the perfect opportunity to present them. Either way, in the midst of our conversation when I was faithfully and fervently defending my loyalty to my failing machine, the comment, "You know it's not much of a chick magnet." was made. Which I of course responded to by saying, "What are you talking about, there isn't a better chick magnet out there!" Realizing that the rest of the world might thing I'm crazy, I've decided to present the following reasons why my car is, indeed a chick magnet.

1. 40 miles per gallon - Translation - Here's a guy who cares about the environment. Which of course is all the rage these days. That's right ladies, there's more than just talk to this guy, there's fuel efficiency as well. Just think, if he cares about the environment, what would it be like if he cared about me. Talk is cheap.

2. It's cozy - Translation - Feel free to go for one of those slick guys who drive one of those oversized SUVs with gigantic cup holders, reclining lazy boy seats, and huge arm rests. But when it comes time to get close to your man, you're gonna need to do quite a lot of work. In my ride, close happens by default.

3. It's old - Translation - Cars are like houses. If you're one of those pick from six models, vinyl siding, sub-division type people you probably got the wrong guy. But if you're looking for that one of a kind, full of character, maybe with a few (or quite a few) quirks, old school house that screams there's only one like me. Then you've got the right guy here.

4. It's a bit ruff - Translation - It needs a ladies touch. Let's face it girls, get in one of those ever so shiny new cars, and all the details are already ironed out. Where's the fun in that.

5. Ok, it's 20 years old - Translation - It's got experience. You can go out with one of those acne induced, pubescent cars, or you can go out with a car that's had some time to mature. You know, time to work out the kinks, really figure out what he wants, choose some direction in life, and really knows how to treat a lady.

6. Small Engine - Translation - This cars made to go the distance. Nice and steady. No fear of quick burnouts like those other rides that initially jerk your head back, and appear to have the ability to really wow you until it is clear that they have given you their very best in under 6 seconds.

7. And finally, no translation needed, it's gotta be love if she's going out with me in that thing, cause I admit it's probably not scoring me any points.

Wandering highlights

Over the last 5 weeks I’ve been on quite a journey. I got to spend 2 weeks at L’Abri in Minnesota, be home for Christmas, and spend some time at the Navigator headquarters in Colorado Springs. Here’s a list of the Top 10 things I learned along the way, in no particular order.

1. “Minnesota Nice” is real. Apparently drivers smile and wave at you even if you cut them off very blatantly.
2. Move over cross stitch, knitting is cool. I made a scarf, a hat, and am now making another scarf and hat. Please feel free to just get it over with and make fun of me at this point.
3. Lake Erie Steelhead season is in the middle of the winter. I actually caught one of the behemoths that was 23 inches. Special thanks to Troutslayer for outfitting me.
4. I cannot sing. Proven by my spectacularly awful performance playing Rock Band on Xbox 360.
5. A true cup of tea involves PG Tips, milk, and sugar. Special thanks to Jock McGregor.
6. Pittsburgh has lots of very cool old buildings with lots of character and a sunny day means it’s not raining.
7. Pajama suits are back in style, at least in my head.
8. How to make a pie crust from scratch
   
9. I like music by Griffin House, The National, Band of Horses, and Brett Dennen
10. Flight of the Concords is rather funny. Check out youtube

Today I'm trying to clean up my room but really procrastinating. I left it in quite a mess...

When the finish line becomes the starting line

I can't remember where, but recently I was reading something written by Brian McLaren on living the Christian life. He was comparing it to running a race. Recently, thanks to my "I'm Not 40 yet" workout plan, I've been spending a bit more time running on my own as well. So some of these next thoughts come from a recent run I took and a book a read.

Recently, I went out to run on the greenbelt next to my house. It was dark, cold, and had started to snow. The clouds were reflecting the glow of the city. I think this is a perfect time for running. For some reason I seem to like running more when it's the weather is doing something. Anyways, I started my run with the goal of running six miles. That is the farthest distance I have run since I destroyed my self and pride in a half-marathon about 4 years ago. So with my iPod blaring I started off running. In the beginning I was excited to get going, inspired to run farther, all pumped up because I was going to accomplish something. Miles 1-3 went by fairly smoothly. I was running because of the potential and because I was inspired.

After that, things started to get a bit harder. My legs started to get tired and my body/mind was starting to manipulate my will. "What are you doing?" it said, "You're fine. You've already run farther than you need to at this point, is six miles really that important to you? Just turn around now and you can enjoy your success. There's not point to continuing to push yourself. Don't you think six miles was a bit excessive? I mean come on, it'll be fine if you just stop here. It's not like anybody but you cares about this goal you've set for yourself."

But somehow, I just kept things going. I think music helps to drown out those voices in my head when I'm running. So miles 4 and 5 were more of a slogfest. I wasn't going very fast. And I really just wanted to turn around. At this point I just started thinking about the end. I was fixated on finding relief from the pain in my legs and relief from the endless mental assault going on in my head. All I could think about with each and every step was stopping. I was running just to get to the end.

Around the end of mile 5 though, I began to run for a different reason. My mind wasn't trying to defeat my will anymore. My body experienced a renewal of energy. The distance I had already come was so much greater than the distance I had left to go. Once I realized I was going to finish, I began to enjoy running. I could move past the pain in my legs much easier. I ran because I knew the hard part was over.

At the end of mile 6 a funny thing happened. I was enjoying running so much that I just ran straight past the finish line. I didn't even slow down. "What the heck do you think you're doing?!" screamed my head. "Running," I said "Isn't that the point?" I was now running because I could.

I ended up running 8 miles that night and afterwards I was left thinking about some pretty strong parallels between the way I ran that night, and the way I pursue my faith. You see many times I feel like I am living just to get to the end. Just to get to heaven some might say or in reality just to get to some different place in my life where things aren't quite as hard and life is fun again(or just plain easier). When I'm running this way, the joy in my life quickly disappears. Living for anything but relief becomes drudgery because I'm fixated on how hard things are and keep entertaining the temptations that keep boiling up in my head to just give up on whatever it is I'm struggling to pursue. I begin to think that the point of life or a specific hardship is to just get to the end. I can no longer enjoy the race. I can no longer love life or anyone in my life.

Just as running guarantees pain, love guarantees sacrifice. Many, many times I begin to wish that I could run without feeling the pain. I also begin to wish I could love God and others without making any sacrifices.

What if I began to see my life not as an opportunity to just get to the finish line. Because in that mindset I try to love as few people as possible without totally giving up on the race I'm running. What if I began to see my life as an opportunity to love as many people as possible. To run as hard as I could. Because the point was to run, to run for the joy of it, not because I had to, or because anyone else thought I should, but because I could. Because the point of life was to run the race; not just get to the end.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

If I get to the end someday, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will have only crossed the starting line.

Jayber Crow

I'm about to finish a book called Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry. Here's a page or so from it that I've been mulling over since I started it.

Jayber Crow is at seminary in this part of the story:

And so finally, late one afternoon, I went to the professor I was afraid to go to, old Dr. Ardmire. I was afraid to go to him because I knew he would tell me the truth.....

I knocked at his open door and waited until he read to a stopping place and looked up from his book.
"Come in , Mr. J. Crow" He didn't like it that I went by my initial.

I went in.
He said, "Have a seat, please."
I sat down.
Customarily, when I came to see him I would be bringing work that he had required me to talk with him about. That day I was empty-handed.
Seeing that I was, he said, "What have you got in mind?"
"Well," I said, "I've got a lot of questions."
He said, "Perhaps you would like to say what they are?"
"Well, for instance," I said, "if Jesus said for us to love our enemies-- and He did say that, didn't He?--how can it ever be right to kill our enemies? And if He said not to pray in public, how come we're all the time praying in public? And if Jesus' own prayer in the garden wasn't granted, what is there for us to pray, except 'thy will be done,' which there's no use in praying because it will be done anyhow?"
I sort of ran down. He didn't say anything. He was looking straight at me. Adn then I realized that he wasn't looking at me the way he usually did. I seemed to see way back in his eyes a little gleam of light. It was a light of kindness and (as I now think) of amusement.
He said, "Have you anymore?"
"Well, for instance," I said, for it had just occurred to me, "suppose you prayed for something and you got it, how do you know how you got it? How do you know you didn't get it because you were going to get it whether you prayed for it or not? So how do you know it does any good to pray? You woudl need proof, wouldn't you?
He nodded.
"But there's no way to get any proof."
He shook his head. We looked at each other.
He said, "Do you have any answers?"
"No," I said. I was concentrating so hard, looking at him, you could have nailed my foot to the floor and I wouldn't have felt it.
"So," I said, "I reckon what it all comes down to is, how can I preach if I don't have any answers?"
"Yes, Mr. Crow," he said. "How can you?" he was not one of your frying-sized chickens.
"I don't believe I can," I said, and I felt my skin turn cold, for I had not even thought that until then.
He said, "No, I don't believe you can." And we sate there and looked at each other again while he waited for me to see the nextg thing, so he wouldnt' have to tell me: I oughtn't to waste any time resigning my scholarship and leaving Pigeonville. I saw it soon enough.
I said, "Well," for now I was ashamed, "I had this feeling maybe I had been called."
"And you may have been right. But not to what you thought. Not to what you think. You have been given questions to which you cannot be given answers. You will have to live them out -- perhaps a little at a time."
"And how long is that going to take?"
"I don't know. As long as you live, perhaps."
"That could be a long time."
"I will tell you a further mystery," he said. "It may take longer."
He held out his hand to me and I shook it. As I started to leave, it came to me that of all the teachers I'd had in school he was the kindest, and I turned around. I was going to thank him, but he had gone back to his book.