Friday, April 25, 2008
strange
It's strange that now that things are moving forward in my life (an apartment, almost a 'real' job), I'm feeling less inclined to blog. I acutally think this is a problem, considering that I began this to chronicle ways in which I've been humbled by God's Word, other people and my own experiences. So, now I've warned myself publically that it is more important now than ever to continue to ask for God's eyes with which to see the world, so that even as I'm emerging from some hibernation of the soul, I'm attentive to those things which keep me grounded and humble. Amen.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
simple, yet
I've seen this a few times now and it's intrigued me each time, so here goes:
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (yes, I went to band camp, and choir camp.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
I find myself wanting to say 'yes, but...' to most of the ones I bolded, but somehow I don't think that's the point...
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (yes, I went to band camp, and choir camp.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
I find myself wanting to say 'yes, but...' to most of the ones I bolded, but somehow I don't think that's the point...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
little easters
This year through Lent, Holy Week and Easter, my inner emotional journey did not quite match up with this particular cycle of the church year. I didn't really set out to give anything up for Lent and the church of which I'm a part did not follow a particular theme that led us deeper and deeper toward Good Friday and the cross.
But it's not as if I didn't 'get' that part: the anticipated emotional turmoil, the being troubled about the sinful state of my being, etc. Oh, I 'get' that alright. I 'get that' to the point that when I heard a sermon on Friday about how Christ's decent into hell meant that he went there to be with me because I put myself there in my own little hell, well, she was preaching to me. I 'got' that. But naming how I was feeling was only that. Naming it. Just because it had a name doesn't mean it went away.
And so I wasn't sure what to expect on Easter morning. I helped lead the service that I had helped plan. We did an Easter Lessons and Carols service where we traipsed through Scripture like we sometimes do right before Christmas to see that Christ is who was prophesied about. The promises of salvation and resurrection are there too, just like those for incarnation. So that was cool, but it just kind of washed over me instead of through me like I hoped it would.
I was finally able to articulate this to a friend yesterday over coffee. That I didn't follow the dramatic decrescendo to Good Friday and even more dramatic crescendo (or subito forte, for any music geeks reading) of Easter. I was apologetic about this but she appropriately gave me the permission I needed to have for this to be okay.
So I didn't have this grand Easter 'resurrection from the death of Lent' experience that I've had in the past, but instead have tried to claim the little Easters that have sprouted in random places. The sum total of them maybe get me to a place of joy and rest, but they've been separated enough that they've really only provided small respites as they come. Here's a few:
- fresh strawberries with French Silk ice cream
- a house full of family that was totally empty a few days before
- a phone call with an invitation for a beer and a pool lesson
- a purple hyacinth that replaces the smell of Easter dinner with the smell of spring
- a meeting where the agenda was prayer and love, and only that
- a morning walk in total sunshine
In some ways it's a comfort to know that the realities of Easter are not confined to the date on the calendar that we set aside to remember what happened. As 'Easter Chrsitians' we live in a 'resurrection reality' all the time. But sometimes this means that Lent is not confined to the six weeks prior to Easter either. It gets to--has to--be both. The dying and the rising. Death and life. Both.
But it's not as if I didn't 'get' that part: the anticipated emotional turmoil, the being troubled about the sinful state of my being, etc. Oh, I 'get' that alright. I 'get that' to the point that when I heard a sermon on Friday about how Christ's decent into hell meant that he went there to be with me because I put myself there in my own little hell, well, she was preaching to me. I 'got' that. But naming how I was feeling was only that. Naming it. Just because it had a name doesn't mean it went away.
And so I wasn't sure what to expect on Easter morning. I helped lead the service that I had helped plan. We did an Easter Lessons and Carols service where we traipsed through Scripture like we sometimes do right before Christmas to see that Christ is who was prophesied about. The promises of salvation and resurrection are there too, just like those for incarnation. So that was cool, but it just kind of washed over me instead of through me like I hoped it would.
I was finally able to articulate this to a friend yesterday over coffee. That I didn't follow the dramatic decrescendo to Good Friday and even more dramatic crescendo (or subito forte, for any music geeks reading) of Easter. I was apologetic about this but she appropriately gave me the permission I needed to have for this to be okay.
So I didn't have this grand Easter 'resurrection from the death of Lent' experience that I've had in the past, but instead have tried to claim the little Easters that have sprouted in random places. The sum total of them maybe get me to a place of joy and rest, but they've been separated enough that they've really only provided small respites as they come. Here's a few:
- fresh strawberries with French Silk ice cream
- a house full of family that was totally empty a few days before
- a phone call with an invitation for a beer and a pool lesson
- a purple hyacinth that replaces the smell of Easter dinner with the smell of spring
- a meeting where the agenda was prayer and love, and only that
- a morning walk in total sunshine
In some ways it's a comfort to know that the realities of Easter are not confined to the date on the calendar that we set aside to remember what happened. As 'Easter Chrsitians' we live in a 'resurrection reality' all the time. But sometimes this means that Lent is not confined to the six weeks prior to Easter either. It gets to--has to--be both. The dying and the rising. Death and life. Both.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
something I wrote for something else
Rehearsal/Performance
I’ve been in choirs for a large part of my life. And have always been an enthusiastic participant, especially on the day of a performance when the director told us to “sing it like we mean it.” This was kind of hard to do in middle school when most of our songs were either about ice cream or the state capitals, but as I’ve gotten older, the text I’ve sung have gotten richer. And this has often made it easier to “sing it like I mean it,” because when it comes to singing about God and Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit in the world, I do mean it. This has lead to some really rich performances.
But not that long ago, in the middle of a choir rehearsal, it hit me that just because a song text was worthy of being sung in truth during a performance doesn’t make it any less true during a rehearsal. And all of a sudden, singing texts like “worthy is the Lamb,” and “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace” over and over again in a rehearsal became a devotional experience for me. In rehearsal we actually experience part of the reality of the performance.
I’ve had this discussion about worship as well. In a class I’m helping teach, we have talked about what happens on Sunday morning as a rehearsal for the worship that is happening in heaven. As with any metaphor, this breaks down eventually, but the truth remains that when we gather together for worship on Sunday morning, we are joining the hosts of heaven in the worship of God that is happening day and night around the throne.
Read Revelation 4 and 5 to get a glimpse of what worship in heaven is like.
I’ve been in choirs for a large part of my life. And have always been an enthusiastic participant, especially on the day of a performance when the director told us to “sing it like we mean it.” This was kind of hard to do in middle school when most of our songs were either about ice cream or the state capitals, but as I’ve gotten older, the text I’ve sung have gotten richer. And this has often made it easier to “sing it like I mean it,” because when it comes to singing about God and Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit in the world, I do mean it. This has lead to some really rich performances.
But not that long ago, in the middle of a choir rehearsal, it hit me that just because a song text was worthy of being sung in truth during a performance doesn’t make it any less true during a rehearsal. And all of a sudden, singing texts like “worthy is the Lamb,” and “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace” over and over again in a rehearsal became a devotional experience for me. In rehearsal we actually experience part of the reality of the performance.
I’ve had this discussion about worship as well. In a class I’m helping teach, we have talked about what happens on Sunday morning as a rehearsal for the worship that is happening in heaven. As with any metaphor, this breaks down eventually, but the truth remains that when we gather together for worship on Sunday morning, we are joining the hosts of heaven in the worship of God that is happening day and night around the throne.
Read Revelation 4 and 5 to get a glimpse of what worship in heaven is like.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
truth
The costs of discipleship and obedience to Christ are huge. And if you commit to it, your life will never ever be the same.
Monday, March 10, 2008
not good at
Found this whilst blog-surfing:
Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.
Let your God--
Love you.
~~Edwina Gately
Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.
Let your God--
Love you.
~~Edwina Gately
Thursday, March 6, 2008
flashbacks
I'm finally getting iTunes up and running on the new computer and am currently going through my CD collection... almost entirely made up of CDs purchased in the 5-6 yr period of late high school and early college. This collection is comprised of what was hottest in CCM, Family Christian Bookstore, etc. at the time (roughly 8 yrs ago). Needless to say (then why am I saying it?), my music tastes have changed somewhat since then, but it still is quite the journey. I'm letting myself listen to the first track or two on each CD as it is downloading and that's been quite enough to bring me back, thank you very much. Yikes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)