Today I sat in a pew for the first time in a long time. I think it was/is good for me to take a break from church, because now I come ready to listen and dissect, rather than just absorb.
This new approach lead me to wonder about several things. The first has to do with lyrics from a worship song. They say,
This is what it sounds like when you sing heavens song
This is what it feels like when heaven comes down
This is what it looks like when God is all around
I stood in a large auditorium, looking at a well-adorned stage of muted colors and expensive looking steel slabs, singing with other wealthy white people, away from sorrow or pain, always happy in this place because God is here and no one is sad when they know Him, ready to listen to a sermon (crossing our fingers for a video clip) and then head over to Chili's.
I had a hard time believing that the place I was standing was an accurate representation of what it looks like when God is all around. We weren't helping anybody. We were just making ourselves feel better. We were inwardly focused. I didn't like that.
And another thing--I wonder if we worship through song every week because it is viewed as the highest form of worship, and because it makes us feel more Christian. Because come on, we sing every. single. week. And all the songs are basically the same, pertaining to when they were written. The longer ago it was written, the more eloquent it is; the closer it was written to present day, it basically says "God is awesome and powerful and we love you!" Which isn't a bad thing, I just think we can worship saying other things to. For example, where are the lamentations? Where are the songs describing our pain and suffering? I don't think I've ever heard one sung in my church. We always talk about how we are broken people, yet all our songs seem like they come from the mouths of angels. Maybe I should write a song about the suffering of Christianity.
God,
You said to love the poor,
so I did and felt in danger.
You said to love my enemy.
So I was humiliated in front of my family when I didn't retaliate.
You said to give everything and follow you,
So I have pain in my stomach because I haven't eaten in 2 days.
You said to not conform to the world,
So I am more lonely than I've ever been.
Where is the Kingdom? It's here? Well, I couldn't tell,
because my head hurts, and my heart burns,
but you said the last will be first.
So I keep my mouth shut, hoping that one day you'll make things right.
It doesn't rhyme. Oh well.
Do you see what I mean though? We sing every week about the same thing. That has to have some impact on our idea of God and what is acceptable to Him.
I wonder what would happen if we had a Lament Day at church. All the songs are sad, the lesson is about hopelessness, and we cry together. I wonder what that would do for the church. I think it would allow us to become real to one another, instead of these fake plastic toys we are right now.
I realize that I am all criticism and no solution. I don't like that about myself.
When did sermons become centered around time? What would happen if a person had something to say, so they listed their three points, then sat down? Why does church have to be the same amount of time every single week? It is a product of time-centered America. We couldn't make plans if we didn't know when church was going to end, so we make church the same amount of time each week and mold it into another time slot in our day. I don't know if people could handle changing times of church each week. I don't even know what life would look like if everything wasn't centered around time.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Relationships
I was on my way to the dorm from the library with my laptop, a few movies, and a starbucks in my hands when I saw the sunset. I considered going on, but sitting outside, looking at the beautiful light seemed more appealing, so I sat down. Soon after, Jake came up and sat next to me. We chatted for a while, then I got to wondering. "I wonder how long we will be friends" I thought aloud. "For life," he responded. It's sad, but I will never be able to believe someone again when they say that to me. "Instead of wondering how long we'll be friends," I concluded, "I think it's better to enjoy the time we have now. To see it as a gift." "Agreed," Jake nodded.
And with that, I taught myself to view every relationship I am in as temporary, as short-lived, as ephemeral.
And with that, I taught myself to view every relationship I am in as temporary, as short-lived, as ephemeral.
Manhattan
I guess I'm just not used to watching a film that has such a strong level of artistic maturity, so when I saw "Manhattan," Woody Allen's black and white wonder, I was repeatedly overwhelmed by the precision and confidence of Allen and Gordon Willis, the cinematographer.
The film begins with shots of the city with a voice over by Isaac, a perfectionist and (although it's too easy to say, it's true) a neurotic, working on the first chapter of his book about a man living in New York. Then we move into a scene with four people in a restaurant, Issac and his 17 year old girlfriend Tracy, and Issac's friend and his wife, Yale and Emily. The composition in this scene really affected me. The camera shot over the shoulder of Yale and Emily, looking at Tracy and Issac, and I don't know why I feel that this composition makes this scene one of the best dinner table scenes I've ever watched.
Another scene of beauty is at Issac's apartment. The entire scene is one shot, far away from the actors and never moving. On the right, a staircase leads up to a higher floor that leaks light into the room below. On the left, Tracy is lit, sitting on the couch. There is a room slightly behind her and to the right that is lit, and another room lit further right. Despite all this light, there is much darkness in the room. It's not foreboding or haunting; no, the darkness is nonthreatening and subdued. As Issac talks to Tracy, I got the impression that the filmmakers wanted to keep some distance between the characters and the audience.
Later, Mary, Yale's lover, is introduced. Immediately, it is obvious that she and Issac have complete opposite personalities. She finds all the art he likes to be bullshit, and she finds Ingmar Bergman, Issac's revered director, less than appealing. What doesn't make sense is that two people who have nothing in common would want to have a relationship with one another. Does that happen in real life?
The most powerful scene in the film comes when Mary and Issac stumble into the planetarium after being chased by an electrical thunderstorm. This whole scene shows silhouette shots of the two walking, discussing esoteric topics. But at one point, the two stop rather close the camera, although their faces cannot be seen save the outlines. Here, Mary expresses interest in Issac, but he refuses. The expression is subtle, the rejection equally as subdued, but I found it to be the most emotional scene in the film.
The plot develops as Mary and Issac become involved after Mary breaks things off with Yale, but then she realizes that she still loves him and starts it up again. Issac is devastated and meets with Emily. What's strange to me is how calm she is about her husband cheating on her. She says that she thinks people in marriages should be allowed a few slip ups or freebies, to paraphrase. Tracy expressed the same ideology. It seems that everyone in the film thinks that way except Issac, who, for whatever reason, believes marriage should be a closed deal, no cheating, nada. Maybe he feels this way because he has had so many bad relationships (2 failed marriages) and he knows that even one slip up can mess up everything.
In the end, Issac realizes that he loves Tracy and races to go catch her in typical Hollywood movie fashion. He catches her just before she leaves for the airport (she planned on studying in London for 6 months). Issac tries to convince her to stay, but she won't. He says that he loves her, he remembers that with her, he had some of the most relaxed and enjoyable times in his life. But she, strangely, shows the maturity and says that 6 months isn't so long. And if they love each other, it won't be that bad.
I don't understand the 42 year old--17 year old scenario. Was Allen just trying to depict a relationship that hadn't been explored before? In the final scene, Issac says that "I don't want that thing I like about you to change." Tracy sympathetically resonds that "not everybody gets corrupted. You have to have a little faith in people." I feel that that is an optimistic outlook on humanity, if anything. For some reason, I think I've heard people talk about Allen and say that he has all these questions about love and life, but never any answers. I feel like this is at least one answer. That people may change, but not always in ways that really matter.
The whole film was an homage to films from the 30's, as made evident by the scenes of overly playful music without any dialogue (him and his son picking out a toy boat, Mary and Issac coming out of a theater and arguing about what they think, etc).
I loved this film. I think I loved it because it was so well made, because I forgot that the actors were acting and that I wasn't watching a documentary. Because the emotions on the screen felt real. I think that should be the aim of movies everywhere.
Friday, November 12, 2010
A Late Reflection Pt. 2
Dear God,
My understanding of what it means to “follow” You is seriously convoluted and perverse, because I did not figure out how to do it on my own, but merely listened to what others told me. So now I resent anything that has to do with actions involved in following You in the aforementioned sense. It’s so fucked up right now, my brain is. I really want to love You and all that, but I don’t know how. And I feel that any step I make towards discipleship in the form of reading my Bible, praying, etc. is cheap, hollow, and corny. What is going wrong? What am I doing wrong, more likely? Give me a desire to read the Scriptures and an ability to learn from it what was intended.
It would be nice if I could go back to the time when I loved God, even if I never read the Bible or fasted or served. I FELT like I loved God. That illusion made life so wonderful.
My understanding of what it means to “follow” You is seriously convoluted and perverse, because I did not figure out how to do it on my own, but merely listened to what others told me. So now I resent anything that has to do with actions involved in following You in the aforementioned sense. It’s so fucked up right now, my brain is. I really want to love You and all that, but I don’t know how. And I feel that any step I make towards discipleship in the form of reading my Bible, praying, etc. is cheap, hollow, and corny. What is going wrong? What am I doing wrong, more likely? Give me a desire to read the Scriptures and an ability to learn from it what was intended.
It would be nice if I could go back to the time when I loved God, even if I never read the Bible or fasted or served. I FELT like I loved God. That illusion made life so wonderful.
Extreme Days
On Thursday, for the first time since leaving home, residing in a foreign city with strangers and unfamiliar customs and buildings, I felt at home.
For the past few weeks, I had been telling Bek that I wanted to watch "Extreme Days," the movie of our growing up years. I remember it being funny, and I wanted to watch something funny. However, while we watched it, I didn't realize that the film carried much more with it than just humor.
When we were in middle school, I had a group of friends. We hung out together, went to church together, and knew each other better than anyone else. The group consisted of Me, Hunter Watson, Chad Corley, Rebekah Edwards, Karlie Hatchett, and Sarah Winkler. We were average, church-going middle schoolers, and at that time I was a carbon copy of Hunter. We would often go to Bek's house to swim, watch movies, and eat food. It was a familiar place at which I felt comfortable.
One day, I don't even remember when, I brought "Extreme Days" to watch a Bek's house. My family owned the movie because my sister and her cool older friends watched it and loved it, so I thought it would be great. When we watched it at Bek's, we all loved it. So much so that we watched it again a few weeks later. The film became beloved in our group, an inside joke that gave us inside jokes to quote and laugh about. To this day, if I ask Sarah or Bek "is it on, or is it on standby," they will instantly start laughing. It's a classic.
Well, we got older, and we began to go over to Bek's house less and less, until we stopped going all together. Our group dissolved, morphed into other groups and eventually faded away.
Now to Thursday. It was only me and Bek watching "Extreme Days" in her room. I felt like we were the remnants, the only ones left from a group that no longer exists, as if we had survived or something. As we sat on her bed, the movie started, and we watched with glee how funny the movie still is, even though we are older. I was surprised to find that the character Matt is one of the funniest characters I have seen on film anywhere. He is hysterical. Everything he says made me crack up. Even thought the movie is terribly made, it still had a place in my heart, even after all these years.
As each scene played out, it would jump into my memory seconds before it came on screen. I would remember each scene right as it started, and I would remember the humor with fondness. I found that "Extreme Days" is a part of my past that I don't resent, but actually draw joy from. "Extreme Days" makes me feel like I am home.
Along with the feeling of belonging, the film actually presented a point of perspective for me. One of the main characters, Brian, makes a move on the girl character, and she gets spooked and leaves for home. Brian's brother Will finds Brian in shambles, eating his weight in donuts. Will says something that is probably really cliche, but I haven't heard it that often and it makes sense to me. He says that "Jesse [the girl] was given to us as a gift," as if the time in which she was with them was limited from the start, and that every moment she is with them does not guarantee another. I think that's how we should view every relationship. Things change, and people leave, and the world doesn't stop for anybody, and we should learn to use that as motivation and insight, not depression. Picking someone at random, if I lose contact with Jake and don't speak to him for years on end, I need to realize that his presence in my life was a gift, and that I should cherish the time and experiences I had with him. I think this makes each relationship, each encounter more meaningful and precious.
All I know is, I feel at home now. Which is good, I guess. Haha.
For the past few weeks, I had been telling Bek that I wanted to watch "Extreme Days," the movie of our growing up years. I remember it being funny, and I wanted to watch something funny. However, while we watched it, I didn't realize that the film carried much more with it than just humor.
When we were in middle school, I had a group of friends. We hung out together, went to church together, and knew each other better than anyone else. The group consisted of Me, Hunter Watson, Chad Corley, Rebekah Edwards, Karlie Hatchett, and Sarah Winkler. We were average, church-going middle schoolers, and at that time I was a carbon copy of Hunter. We would often go to Bek's house to swim, watch movies, and eat food. It was a familiar place at which I felt comfortable.
One day, I don't even remember when, I brought "Extreme Days" to watch a Bek's house. My family owned the movie because my sister and her cool older friends watched it and loved it, so I thought it would be great. When we watched it at Bek's, we all loved it. So much so that we watched it again a few weeks later. The film became beloved in our group, an inside joke that gave us inside jokes to quote and laugh about. To this day, if I ask Sarah or Bek "is it on, or is it on standby," they will instantly start laughing. It's a classic.
Well, we got older, and we began to go over to Bek's house less and less, until we stopped going all together. Our group dissolved, morphed into other groups and eventually faded away.
Now to Thursday. It was only me and Bek watching "Extreme Days" in her room. I felt like we were the remnants, the only ones left from a group that no longer exists, as if we had survived or something. As we sat on her bed, the movie started, and we watched with glee how funny the movie still is, even though we are older. I was surprised to find that the character Matt is one of the funniest characters I have seen on film anywhere. He is hysterical. Everything he says made me crack up. Even thought the movie is terribly made, it still had a place in my heart, even after all these years.
As each scene played out, it would jump into my memory seconds before it came on screen. I would remember each scene right as it started, and I would remember the humor with fondness. I found that "Extreme Days" is a part of my past that I don't resent, but actually draw joy from. "Extreme Days" makes me feel like I am home.
Along with the feeling of belonging, the film actually presented a point of perspective for me. One of the main characters, Brian, makes a move on the girl character, and she gets spooked and leaves for home. Brian's brother Will finds Brian in shambles, eating his weight in donuts. Will says something that is probably really cliche, but I haven't heard it that often and it makes sense to me. He says that "Jesse [the girl] was given to us as a gift," as if the time in which she was with them was limited from the start, and that every moment she is with them does not guarantee another. I think that's how we should view every relationship. Things change, and people leave, and the world doesn't stop for anybody, and we should learn to use that as motivation and insight, not depression. Picking someone at random, if I lose contact with Jake and don't speak to him for years on end, I need to realize that his presence in my life was a gift, and that I should cherish the time and experiences I had with him. I think this makes each relationship, each encounter more meaningful and precious.
All I know is, I feel at home now. Which is good, I guess. Haha.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Therepy
There are some songs that go along with your changing life that provide the melodies and crescendos of your spinning, hurtling world that will never be like it's former self. Songs that make you feel like you're making progress, that each step is a step of victory and advancement and change. Songs that make you feel like you have so much more to live and to live for, as if the life you lived no longer holds onto you because you have learned to accept that things will never be what they once were and that life is not worth wasting through nostalgia and memories and thoughts that get you nowhere but down. Those songs. They make you feel uncontrollably, wildly alive.
Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about you all. Only her.
Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about you all. Only her.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Filmfest
On Saturday, November 5th, 8 men from ACU came together to create a film in 24 hours to compete in the ACU 24 Hour Film festival. Here it is.
On Friday afternoon, the day before the competition, I asked around to see if anyone in Abilene had a boom pole, a necessary tool if we were to shoot audio in the short film. Uncle Jim called a guy he knew and asked him, and the guy said he did. So I contacted him and got the address of his business where the pole was located and headed over. Come to find out, the guy thought I meant mike stand, not a boom pole. So I got a mike stand. Awesome.
Anyway, 11:45pm rolled around, and I headed over to Jordan Havens' room, the RA of 1st north and the organizer of the Mabee Production team. At midnight we checked the ACU filmfest website for the control elements that had to be in our film and began brainstorming. 4 hours later, a rough script was ready. I went to bed to get 4 hours of sleep, trying to prepare for the day ahead.
8am rolled around, and I was less than excited (namely because I was so tired). I thought "we haven't done too much-we could just not make the film." But as I was thinking that, I got a text from Jordan asking where I was. I sighed and hustled downstairs.
Only Jordan and one other guy were in the room when I arrived, and we started talking about shooting schedule and locations. Eventually the whole crew dragged in and we were about to get rolling. The only thing was that our main actor Matt Varner was at breakfast. We texted him and told him he needed to hurry, and we headed to the library.
Our first location was in the downstairs library. The lights were off in the back part, and we thought it was a better location than a row over that was lit by florescents. Then we moved to Walling Lecture Hall, where several extras showed up. Then we went to the art building and shot the Frankenstein scene. After that, we headed over to my aunt and uncle's house, followed by Pam's Pets shop, then Monk's coffee shop. We had an hour break to get food, then we shot at Taylor Elementary, and finally the fountain downtown. Shooting was done, but editing was next.
I had a very difficult time trying to capture the tape, but eventually, eventually got it working. It had taken an hour to figure out, so now I was beginning to edit at 8pm. Jordan had some mysterious appointment and didn't return until 10pm. I wanted to be finished by 10:30pm to have more than enough time to export and upload, but I didn't end up finishing until 11:40pm. We had to have an email sent by 12am with the url in it. We clicked upload and it said 20 minutes. We freaked. As we got closer to the deadline, we began to panic more and more. As 12am clicked away, we were still not done.
We had ours submitted by 12:01:06. The committee gave us grace.
The whole time we were filming, I had a terrible feeling. I doubted that our film would be any good at all, and if it wasn't, Jordan would never want to work with me again, none of the guys on my hall would never want to work with me again, I wouldn't be able to get any actors ever again. Basically, I was not optimistic. But when the final cut had been made, I stood back and realized that we had created something of high quality. Our shots were magical. The plot was snappy. The film was enjoyable. We had done the only thing I cared about--we had made a film I was proud of.
On Friday afternoon, the day before the competition, I asked around to see if anyone in Abilene had a boom pole, a necessary tool if we were to shoot audio in the short film. Uncle Jim called a guy he knew and asked him, and the guy said he did. So I contacted him and got the address of his business where the pole was located and headed over. Come to find out, the guy thought I meant mike stand, not a boom pole. So I got a mike stand. Awesome.
Anyway, 11:45pm rolled around, and I headed over to Jordan Havens' room, the RA of 1st north and the organizer of the Mabee Production team. At midnight we checked the ACU filmfest website for the control elements that had to be in our film and began brainstorming. 4 hours later, a rough script was ready. I went to bed to get 4 hours of sleep, trying to prepare for the day ahead.
8am rolled around, and I was less than excited (namely because I was so tired). I thought "we haven't done too much-we could just not make the film." But as I was thinking that, I got a text from Jordan asking where I was. I sighed and hustled downstairs.
Only Jordan and one other guy were in the room when I arrived, and we started talking about shooting schedule and locations. Eventually the whole crew dragged in and we were about to get rolling. The only thing was that our main actor Matt Varner was at breakfast. We texted him and told him he needed to hurry, and we headed to the library.
Our first location was in the downstairs library. The lights were off in the back part, and we thought it was a better location than a row over that was lit by florescents. Then we moved to Walling Lecture Hall, where several extras showed up. Then we went to the art building and shot the Frankenstein scene. After that, we headed over to my aunt and uncle's house, followed by Pam's Pets shop, then Monk's coffee shop. We had an hour break to get food, then we shot at Taylor Elementary, and finally the fountain downtown. Shooting was done, but editing was next.
I had a very difficult time trying to capture the tape, but eventually, eventually got it working. It had taken an hour to figure out, so now I was beginning to edit at 8pm. Jordan had some mysterious appointment and didn't return until 10pm. I wanted to be finished by 10:30pm to have more than enough time to export and upload, but I didn't end up finishing until 11:40pm. We had to have an email sent by 12am with the url in it. We clicked upload and it said 20 minutes. We freaked. As we got closer to the deadline, we began to panic more and more. As 12am clicked away, we were still not done.
We had ours submitted by 12:01:06. The committee gave us grace.
The whole time we were filming, I had a terrible feeling. I doubted that our film would be any good at all, and if it wasn't, Jordan would never want to work with me again, none of the guys on my hall would never want to work with me again, I wouldn't be able to get any actors ever again. Basically, I was not optimistic. But when the final cut had been made, I stood back and realized that we had created something of high quality. Our shots were magical. The plot was snappy. The film was enjoyable. We had done the only thing I cared about--we had made a film I was proud of.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The Godless Void of Safe
I felt like reading today. I had seen "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller on the Paste best books of the decade list, which surprised me because I had heard of dozens of people who had read it. I thought I would be able to siphon some wisdom from it, so I borrowed it from Drew McConnell. In the crowded, bustling cafeteria, I read about Don's view of God when he was younger, how God was a wealthy man with a cheer leading daughter and a football playing son, a god who was affluent and respected like a proper Englishman. This got me thinking as I left the Bean--who/what do I think God is?
I think boys with high Nike socks, straight-billed baseball caps and lanyards swaying out of their pockets claim to know God, even when they joke with a neanderthalic cadence about jacking off or girls or sports or a number of other meaningless topics. But I don't think they know God.
I think middle aged mothers with short hair that just passes their jaw bone, pants reaching slightly above their waist, athletic shoes and cross jewelry claim to know God, even when they idolize their children and their husbands and live protected lives in protected homes, eschewing the hurting world because they'd rather read a Francine Rivers novel. But I don't think they know God.
As I walked through the courtyard composed of juxtaposed concrete and grass, I tried to think of what I thought of God, and if I even thought He exists. I took a seat on a swinging bench that faced another bench just like it and I asked myself if I believed God was sitting in the bench opposite me. I tried to make myself picture the invisible God, I tried to force myself to believe that He was there, but I couldn't. I didn't believe God was there, despite what I had heard all my life, despite his omnipresence, a phrase used by people that, I think, don't actually believe it. I didn't think God was there.
Now, I found that I didn't believe that God DIDN'T exist. I do believe that. I believe God is with people when they're hurting, when disaster strikes, when there is pain. I concluded that I don't believe God exists in the dull, plain, boring lives, the lives that aren't painful or sacrificing or unjust. Now I do believe there is pain in suburban, cultivated life, I just don't think it's real pain. Oh no, my Mercedes Benz just got rear ended and I don't have enough money to pay for the repairs because I just bought Dallas Cowboys season tickets. That's not pain, at least not in my eyes.
I discovered that I believe God only exists in places where there is pain. But I just thought about that and remembered festivals and parties in the Bible where people were rejoicing because God delivered them, like the Israelites. I believe God is there too. I guess I don't believe God is here because I don't need Him. I don't. I can survive, going to school, hanging out with friends, watching movies, and never talk to Him, never read the Bible, never do anything religious. Millions of people have lived this way, I have lived this way. It is possible to survive without God. Now, before all you protective Christians rise up and yell that without God, the universe wouldn't be spinning and everything would dissolve into chaos and whatever, I know. I have this contradiction going on in my brain where I both realize that God maintains the universe and keeps life existing; but on the other hand, I feel as if He is strangely removed from the people who don't want anything to do with Him because their lives are fine without Him. And without Him, I mean people actively participating in religious activities (reading the Bible, praying, etc). Why pray to God when everything is peachy keen already? Why act like you need God when you really don't see a need for Him?
This is where I am, living a life that is protected enough that I don't need God. I don't need deliverance from poverty or hunger or pain or terror. I know that I can feed myself for the next month if I had to. I can even go and see a movie that I know nothing about save that critics say it is next year's Best Picture winner, and not worry about having enough money for necessities. I am safe. That's the problem. I have no need for God.
I was just blindsided by the idea that fasting is an immediate way to force yourself to realize that you need God. You need His help because otherwise you're going to vomit because you're so hungry. But is that how it's supposed to be? We live lives that don't need God, so we have to fast in order to conjure up a reason to need Him? That seems fake to me.
So God, that's where I am. I'm here, in a place where I don't think you exist. I ask that you put me in a position where I need you every day, that you show me how to be okay with this type of life, that you tell me what is right, or anything else. Because I haven't heard from you in a while, and I feel like you could tell me something important.
I think boys with high Nike socks, straight-billed baseball caps and lanyards swaying out of their pockets claim to know God, even when they joke with a neanderthalic cadence about jacking off or girls or sports or a number of other meaningless topics. But I don't think they know God.
I think middle aged mothers with short hair that just passes their jaw bone, pants reaching slightly above their waist, athletic shoes and cross jewelry claim to know God, even when they idolize their children and their husbands and live protected lives in protected homes, eschewing the hurting world because they'd rather read a Francine Rivers novel. But I don't think they know God.
As I walked through the courtyard composed of juxtaposed concrete and grass, I tried to think of what I thought of God, and if I even thought He exists. I took a seat on a swinging bench that faced another bench just like it and I asked myself if I believed God was sitting in the bench opposite me. I tried to make myself picture the invisible God, I tried to force myself to believe that He was there, but I couldn't. I didn't believe God was there, despite what I had heard all my life, despite his omnipresence, a phrase used by people that, I think, don't actually believe it. I didn't think God was there.
Now, I found that I didn't believe that God DIDN'T exist. I do believe that. I believe God is with people when they're hurting, when disaster strikes, when there is pain. I concluded that I don't believe God exists in the dull, plain, boring lives, the lives that aren't painful or sacrificing or unjust. Now I do believe there is pain in suburban, cultivated life, I just don't think it's real pain. Oh no, my Mercedes Benz just got rear ended and I don't have enough money to pay for the repairs because I just bought Dallas Cowboys season tickets. That's not pain, at least not in my eyes.
I discovered that I believe God only exists in places where there is pain. But I just thought about that and remembered festivals and parties in the Bible where people were rejoicing because God delivered them, like the Israelites. I believe God is there too. I guess I don't believe God is here because I don't need Him. I don't. I can survive, going to school, hanging out with friends, watching movies, and never talk to Him, never read the Bible, never do anything religious. Millions of people have lived this way, I have lived this way. It is possible to survive without God. Now, before all you protective Christians rise up and yell that without God, the universe wouldn't be spinning and everything would dissolve into chaos and whatever, I know. I have this contradiction going on in my brain where I both realize that God maintains the universe and keeps life existing; but on the other hand, I feel as if He is strangely removed from the people who don't want anything to do with Him because their lives are fine without Him. And without Him, I mean people actively participating in religious activities (reading the Bible, praying, etc). Why pray to God when everything is peachy keen already? Why act like you need God when you really don't see a need for Him?
This is where I am, living a life that is protected enough that I don't need God. I don't need deliverance from poverty or hunger or pain or terror. I know that I can feed myself for the next month if I had to. I can even go and see a movie that I know nothing about save that critics say it is next year's Best Picture winner, and not worry about having enough money for necessities. I am safe. That's the problem. I have no need for God.
I was just blindsided by the idea that fasting is an immediate way to force yourself to realize that you need God. You need His help because otherwise you're going to vomit because you're so hungry. But is that how it's supposed to be? We live lives that don't need God, so we have to fast in order to conjure up a reason to need Him? That seems fake to me.
So God, that's where I am. I'm here, in a place where I don't think you exist. I ask that you put me in a position where I need you every day, that you show me how to be okay with this type of life, that you tell me what is right, or anything else. Because I haven't heard from you in a while, and I feel like you could tell me something important.
Monday, November 1, 2010
I'm Sorry I'm A Christian
A friend showed me this clip the other day, and I've thought of it often. This is Chris Tse, a slam poet who has caused controversy with this poem. He didn't intend for that though. He just saw the wrong actions of people who claim to be Christians but strayed somewhere. Before I saw this, I had similar thoughts to the ones he says.
There is so much wrong with us. When I walk past and interact with people who I know claim Jesus as their god, I understand an attitude that is no way compatible with Jesus' teachings. An attitude of arrogance, of pride, lacking empathy and lacking kindness. I see so many people who don't give a shit about anyone else, and they claim to love God above all else. Something's wrong. We've made it too easy. It's too easy to be christian, or at least to claim Christianity and pass off as one in this culture. There is no suffering anymore. We sit in our pews with our atomic family and our friends of the same skin color, singing songs about loving God and giving all we have, then we go out to eat while millions starve, we send our kids to private schools to protect them from the world we're supposed to help, we live in our own house, not knowing our neighbors because we don't have to depend on anyone else to survive. There is no suffering anymore. And yet, we're suffering because we don't know true Christianity. I often fear that the entire nation of America will stand before Jesus after having prophesied, cast out demons, and performed miracles all in his name, and he will say to us `I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME.'
We don't suffer, when suffering is the staple of our calling. That's messed up.
God, show life, true, real life, to the ones who are searching. Let them find the dusty, rocky road that leads to You while all the others are fascinated with the road lined with neon lights and fast food restaurants. Let those dedicated enough to endure suffering find You. And have mercy on the rest.
"I'm sorry that I only hang out with christian friends, and we do nice, christian things like pot luck dinners and board game nights while somewhere, a man beats his girlfriend again."
There is so much wrong with us. When I walk past and interact with people who I know claim Jesus as their god, I understand an attitude that is no way compatible with Jesus' teachings. An attitude of arrogance, of pride, lacking empathy and lacking kindness. I see so many people who don't give a shit about anyone else, and they claim to love God above all else. Something's wrong. We've made it too easy. It's too easy to be christian, or at least to claim Christianity and pass off as one in this culture. There is no suffering anymore. We sit in our pews with our atomic family and our friends of the same skin color, singing songs about loving God and giving all we have, then we go out to eat while millions starve, we send our kids to private schools to protect them from the world we're supposed to help, we live in our own house, not knowing our neighbors because we don't have to depend on anyone else to survive. There is no suffering anymore. And yet, we're suffering because we don't know true Christianity. I often fear that the entire nation of America will stand before Jesus after having prophesied, cast out demons, and performed miracles all in his name, and he will say to us `I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME.'
We don't suffer, when suffering is the staple of our calling. That's messed up.
God, show life, true, real life, to the ones who are searching. Let them find the dusty, rocky road that leads to You while all the others are fascinated with the road lined with neon lights and fast food restaurants. Let those dedicated enough to endure suffering find You. And have mercy on the rest.
"I'm sorry that I only hang out with christian friends, and we do nice, christian things like pot luck dinners and board game nights while somewhere, a man beats his girlfriend again."
Cornerstone Pt. something: Does Technology Unite or Divide Us?
Today, I heard the best Cornerstone speech so far.
The speaker was Bill Rankin with the speech "Does Technology Unite or Divide Us?" He started out with a video, claiming that he couldn't make it to the presentation today, but a good friend of his who is big in technology and wears jeans, tennis shoes, and a black turtleneck would be speaking instead (Steve Jobs). I did believe him for a fraction of a second, hoping that Jobs would speak, not considering that ACU would have made a huge ordeal of it, announcing it and making him speak at chapel and whatnot. Nevertheless, Steve Jobs did not speak. Rankin did, dressed like Steve Jobs.
At the beginning of the speech, Rankin asked us to consider if technology unites or divides us. He talked about how technology can be used in two ways: competition or collaboration, showing examples via his power-point of the Native Americans and their spears being slaughtered by the Europeans and their rifles. He then showed us a clip from the 1992 film "Baraka," where a time lapse effect is used to speed up daily occurrences of people. We see humans in a factory rapidly constructing dozens of pieces of technology; we see people flooding in and out of subway stations, out of business buildings, so quickly and fluidly that it seems like a human river; we see thousands of eggs filtering through a conveyor belt, and we see baby chicks on a similar belt, being dropped from level to level, having their beaks burned off, and being crowded in a room with thousands of other chicks and chickens, all for the purpose of feeding our consumption.
It was at this point that Rankin phrased an idea that I will never forget. He said, "our lives are built on the blood of others." He talked about how we all have either an iPhone or an iPod, and that these wonderful devices were created by people in a factory with such terrible working conditions that some workers there thought it would be better to kill themselves than to continue working. He said that Americans consume 32 times more than the rest of the world (the stuff we consume that he was talking about, I'm not sure). And we do things just because we can. Our lives are built on the blood of others. We have so much, and most of us don't consider where it came from, who made it, how it got into our possession. To us, it began its real existence on the shelf of that store from which we bought it. Where did my bed come from? Where did the computer I'm typing on come from? Where did the food I eat come from? It's difficult to think about this because I have no starting point--I don't know how to make a shirt, so I can't picture someone making one. Maybe we've fallen so far because we no longer know what it takes to create the things we consume. I'm baffled--how do you even make a shirt?
Rankin showed us the dilemma of our consumption, and with that he showed us our responsibility. We can not merely consume and refuse to consider how it came to us or what affect it has on the rest of the world. For symbolic purposes, he had us turn our phones off for two minutes in honor of those who killed themselves at the price of our consumption. I had to remember how to turn my phone off because I don't do it often enough. While silent, I tried to imagine that I was one of the workers at the Apple factory who was about to kill themselves, to put myself into their mindset. I thought, "all this, so Americans can have something they don't need. Something so they can have fun." We have more money than most people in the world, and we need more things than most people in the world to make us happy. That's why Jesus said money and possessions are dangerous. Because the more you have, even more you feel you need.
However, Rankin showed us that there was hope. Technology is used for competition and consumption, but it can also be used for collaboration and restoration. He then showed us three clips illustrating how technology was used creatively to bring the world together, to share hope and beauty. The first was Playing for Change, where street musicians around the world played and sang "Stand By Me," which was recorded by a man who combined them all to make a beautiful song. Then we saw another clip, this one was of different youtube videos that had been spliced together to make a song, again beautiful. The third was a virtual symphony of voices, all singing one song to their individual computer screen. All of these videos had the theme that technology can unify to create something wonderful. Each left me feeling hopeful about art, as well as humanity.
This was the best Cornerstone speech we've had so far, because it both unmistakably reveals a problem, shows both hypothetical outcomes, and presents an optimistic hope in the future. I am left with a desire to do something, to take hold of the responsibility that comes with my lifestyle, and live responsibly. How do I do that? I think if I consider it long enough, and even ask God, I'll find an answer. I think God supports those trying to live with others in mind.
The speaker was Bill Rankin with the speech "Does Technology Unite or Divide Us?" He started out with a video, claiming that he couldn't make it to the presentation today, but a good friend of his who is big in technology and wears jeans, tennis shoes, and a black turtleneck would be speaking instead (Steve Jobs). I did believe him for a fraction of a second, hoping that Jobs would speak, not considering that ACU would have made a huge ordeal of it, announcing it and making him speak at chapel and whatnot. Nevertheless, Steve Jobs did not speak. Rankin did, dressed like Steve Jobs.
At the beginning of the speech, Rankin asked us to consider if technology unites or divides us. He talked about how technology can be used in two ways: competition or collaboration, showing examples via his power-point of the Native Americans and their spears being slaughtered by the Europeans and their rifles. He then showed us a clip from the 1992 film "Baraka," where a time lapse effect is used to speed up daily occurrences of people. We see humans in a factory rapidly constructing dozens of pieces of technology; we see people flooding in and out of subway stations, out of business buildings, so quickly and fluidly that it seems like a human river; we see thousands of eggs filtering through a conveyor belt, and we see baby chicks on a similar belt, being dropped from level to level, having their beaks burned off, and being crowded in a room with thousands of other chicks and chickens, all for the purpose of feeding our consumption.
It was at this point that Rankin phrased an idea that I will never forget. He said, "our lives are built on the blood of others." He talked about how we all have either an iPhone or an iPod, and that these wonderful devices were created by people in a factory with such terrible working conditions that some workers there thought it would be better to kill themselves than to continue working. He said that Americans consume 32 times more than the rest of the world (the stuff we consume that he was talking about, I'm not sure). And we do things just because we can. Our lives are built on the blood of others. We have so much, and most of us don't consider where it came from, who made it, how it got into our possession. To us, it began its real existence on the shelf of that store from which we bought it. Where did my bed come from? Where did the computer I'm typing on come from? Where did the food I eat come from? It's difficult to think about this because I have no starting point--I don't know how to make a shirt, so I can't picture someone making one. Maybe we've fallen so far because we no longer know what it takes to create the things we consume. I'm baffled--how do you even make a shirt?
Rankin showed us the dilemma of our consumption, and with that he showed us our responsibility. We can not merely consume and refuse to consider how it came to us or what affect it has on the rest of the world. For symbolic purposes, he had us turn our phones off for two minutes in honor of those who killed themselves at the price of our consumption. I had to remember how to turn my phone off because I don't do it often enough. While silent, I tried to imagine that I was one of the workers at the Apple factory who was about to kill themselves, to put myself into their mindset. I thought, "all this, so Americans can have something they don't need. Something so they can have fun." We have more money than most people in the world, and we need more things than most people in the world to make us happy. That's why Jesus said money and possessions are dangerous. Because the more you have, even more you feel you need.
However, Rankin showed us that there was hope. Technology is used for competition and consumption, but it can also be used for collaboration and restoration. He then showed us three clips illustrating how technology was used creatively to bring the world together, to share hope and beauty. The first was Playing for Change, where street musicians around the world played and sang "Stand By Me," which was recorded by a man who combined them all to make a beautiful song. Then we saw another clip, this one was of different youtube videos that had been spliced together to make a song, again beautiful. The third was a virtual symphony of voices, all singing one song to their individual computer screen. All of these videos had the theme that technology can unify to create something wonderful. Each left me feeling hopeful about art, as well as humanity.
This was the best Cornerstone speech we've had so far, because it both unmistakably reveals a problem, shows both hypothetical outcomes, and presents an optimistic hope in the future. I am left with a desire to do something, to take hold of the responsibility that comes with my lifestyle, and live responsibly. How do I do that? I think if I consider it long enough, and even ask God, I'll find an answer. I think God supports those trying to live with others in mind.
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