Michael Frost/ Alan Hirsch

“Jesus did this, said that, went there. It’s simple, right?”

“The [attractional] church has become one gigantic breast… and the patrons have milk pouring down their faces.”

"[Jesus] sneezes the gospel."

personal smoke

smoke signals seem a bit ridiculous in the digital age.

i also have to agree with the skinny regarding the current vacancy.

draw your own conclusions on the current state of catholicism, but i'm more inclined to say that protestants aren't far off. the creation of pastor search committees who talk behind closed doors pass off the persnonal authority/responsibility/initiative of each protestant american believer relegated only to those in top-down leadership positions. as far as the denominational divide even among churches within the same city, at least catholics unite worldwide. the apple never falls far from the tree, and even as luther made same great changes, we're still looking to be perfected.

thus "emerging" predominantly out of protestantism (though not only american), emergent has no desire to create a divergent spirit within the Church; but rather to redefine who Christ was/is/will be and how we as His body love him by loving His/our world. hopefully everyone, both from within the church and outside of it, will see this form of Chist-following as more than a criticism of "the man" as well as a fresh expression of timeless truth that seeks to enhance and energize the lives of all people by living out Jesus commands to love Him by feeding his sheep.

TKoGiL...

A scruffy, goofy looking man sways up and down the street to his own personal rhythm. He stops briefly to talk to a homeless man seated on the corner. The sitter’s eyes thin as smiling lips create lines that haven’t graced his face in quite some time. He watches the scruffy man traipse away. Continuing his trek towards no destination in particular, the man stops suddenly. He pivots off his left foot and heads on his new course. Under a tree, off set by the shade that surrounds it, lies:

A wooden board.
A foot and a half long, eight inch wide, black cylinder.
A personal challenge.

The man stops just short of the two items laying side by side. He encircles and tries to make sense of what to do with the odd pairing. He picks up the board, rubbing his hand along the rougher parts that offset the smooth, well-sanded carpentry. He kicks the cylinder. It rolls a couple of feet. The man takes off his sandals and lays them at the foot of the tree. He leans the board upon the rolling cylinder. Hesteps back and stares at the new possibility.

In his pondering, he hadn’t noticed an older gentleman, now leaning against the tree. A thick grey beard hid most of his face, but his eyes smiled as he shrugged at the young man. He put his hand out gesturing towards the contraption. The scruffy man stepped forward, placing one foot upon the board. He wavered a tad. He placed the second upon it. Shifting his weight from the first foot to the second, Wham! The board flew across the grass. The man slammed into the ground, shoulder and head first.

The bearded man laughed as he went to retrieve the board. Picking himself off the ground and shaking out his jitters, he smirked at the older man. He smuggly motioned for him to give it a try. Perfectly balancing the board atop the cylinder, the frail man leapt on with both feet. He swayed from side to side in effortless unity. The younger man stood amazed, his focus intent on watching the man’s movements. Then the man stopped. He balanced on center of the board. Occasionally he would shift his weight, but the board remained relatively motionless. He stared off at the field that lie beyond the tree.

Then he jumped off and ran away. Mezmorized by the possilities of the board, the young man lept to his feet. He jumped on the board as he had seem the older man do. Again he was quickly swept off his feet. He landed right by his sandals, hitting his head on the tree. He rubbed the back of his head and peered up into the branches. Etched on the first limb above him was the inscription:

“find freedom in gravity…”

His eyes shifted their focus down to the land, looking for the frail man who had stopped running and peered back to watch. The older man waved towards the tree, then was no more.

it's no city on a hill

Sin City: I don't want to live there...

But apparently some people do.

Tagline should have been: the mind of machismo

Plotline should have been: Uber-indulgent men violently flaunting their libidos to one another while keeping women corralled as sex objects.

Critics/Fans say: But – the style is amazing.

Well, really the seedy noir pastiche becomes the essential blanket (though be it a pretty one) to cover the boring dialogue, unnecessary voice-over, and poor editing. And cool camera moves are always a crutch for action movies.

C/F: But – it fits Frank Miller’s comic book.

That’s why Robert Rodriguez directed it: he likes very little character development or dialogue, lots of chicks in tight/no clothes, over-the-top violence, and the strong male protagonist/hero. Comic books survive off projection – people who project what they want or would like themselves to be (bag the girl, murder the bad guy, etc.) on the characters. Rodriguez wants to be the man, and this script let him do what he ultimately wanted to do with the Dusk til Dawn series – bring primitive man back to life in an anti-heroic modern setting.

C/F: But – the time period isn’t really nailed down.

Sure it is. It’s set in a modern world, complete with high rises, Ferrari’s, and guns. But that world’s mores just so happen to come full circle to those of the caveman days. Murder, revenge and sex are necessities. They are not raised to the point of glorification, since unjustified murder is still a crime, but they are the uncontested results of a life of sin. Within their realm, they have progressed to certain unalienable right, such as the right to property – in their case, women. They are objects to be traded, beaten, eaten, controlled, stared at and “loved.” In fact women are so objectified by men that the only woman who gets away from male oppression drives a male’s Ferrari – not a fifties-mobile (read “a time when women weren’t respected”). Rodriguez isn’t smart enough to create that much symbolism on his own, that’s where Miller and Tarantino play integral roles in making the movie even somewhat interesting.

C/F: So, the modern world doesn’t really seem that modern.

Nope it isn’t. Not if you consider free-thinking modern. This world is stuck in pure “id” sensation. Perhaps Miller’s commenting on the way modernity has strengthened our caveman roots and engenderings, but there’s no doubt that this is a world for purely “sensitive” men - the feeling of the heart beating when preparing for a kill, the color of a woman’s hair, the taste of blood, the sound of a scream, the smell of evil. All of which commodify women. Even the beautiful words “I love you” are uttered in each vignette, but never outside the confines of a strict coercion towards subordination.

This movie isn’t a commentary on these issues though. It’s really just a meager attempt to produce pulpy pop culture. It should have stayed a comic book or have gotten a director to infuse life into it, not just Bruce, blood, and boobs. I guess it got me thinking (There's more to say. I just don't care anymore.), but overall…

Fair at best.

"Schedule's full, God. How 'bout Sunday?"

In the abbey, we have morning prayer together at (or slightly thereafter) 8 o’clock. This is one of our attempts to add rhythm to our life together as a way to daily commune and strengthen one another in the Spirit. I must be honest, it does much to start one’s day off on the right track – a tangible reassurance that God’s mercies truly are new every morning.

This regime got me thinking about the church’s tradition of a Sunday morning meeting time. It is a set time of the week to meet together, which is good, but how far does it go to prepare one for the trials and tribulations of everyday life? As humans, we need rhythm – it helps us become the people we want to be. On the other hand, do we try to structure God’s infiniteness to fit our weekly routine? By expecting Sunday to be church day – do we set aside the Spirit for the single day of the week we go to church (or two or three depending on how many church groups one attends)? Now I realize that this isn’t true for everyone, that some very good things happen on Sunday morns. But at the same time, the church has scheduled God out of most of life by creating a space for its parishioners to meet with Him at their specific time in their specific way. Sometimes I know God wants to speak to me in the most inopportune times – during a movie, concert, conversation, traffic, or work. I’m most ready to listen when I’m depending on him to guide me throughout the day. Having spent my life in Sunday church, I know that I have not always been this willing to listen – call it immaturity - but I think a large part of the reason was my inability to see God’s working in my life as a daily rhythm, rather than a weekly ritual.

Have the walls of the church gotten in the way of the freedom of the Spirit to come and go as Jesus did during his resurrection?

I would say that in many ways they have. Morning prayer is by no means the example of the right versus wrong way to handle life. At the same time it is a way to ask God to not only dwell in the walls of the home on a daily basis, but to invite his presence to go with us all places throughout our day, continually guiding and refining us. This is a daily, not weekly activity. For people looking to the Sunday service to “get them through the week,” it simply won’t do it – it can’t do it. God does not live in temples built by human hands, but only inside of each who looks to him for our daily guidance, our daily bread. We choke the Spirit out of our daily lives when we try to schedule God into our weeks. Maybe we all should try structuring our days in light of his eternity.

“may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you
wherever he may send you
may he guide you through the wilderness
protect you through the storm
may he bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders he has shown you
may he bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors…”

To the peeps -

i'm going to do it - this is sheer curiosity, not an ego-booster.

a brief one, and don't get confused - i enjoy writing and posting and such...

sometimes i just wonder if anyone is reading...

so - if you do read, will you please take the short amount of time it takes to just say "hello" or come up with something witty to comment? what the hay - even post comments on other things you may have thought were interesting - that'd be a chill/sweet thing to do rather than just coming and going like a mouse who takes away a tad bit of food every night from the kitchen.

just so i know who my audience is. and if it is only M, P, M, G & J - that's fine with me - that's very much a worthy group.

but yes - my blog is for me and i enjoy it being as such... but i am curious who's eavesdropping on me digitally talking to myself

so - for you eavesdropping mice whom i don't know are stealing from my kitchen, this post is for you...

thanks-
sean

squirrel

“Every once in a while even a blind squirrel finds an acorn in the forest.” – my dad

But in this case when the squirrel (who was blinded by his parents’ teaching, feeding him a particular food his whole life, never allowing him to search on the ground for his own food without them) found the seemingly small acorn (but had more to offer than they could ever imagine and right under their way-up-the-tree nest), it just so happens that the acorn had a long root system attached to it that just kept coming when the young squirrel pulled it up from the ground.

The squirrel and the squirrel’s parents and the squirrel’s parent’s parents had lived in the same tree for many years, never venturing down to see the ground. Their home and way of life was simply the way it was. The parents had never questioned venturing to the ground and taking the first acorn, though this was the case with the youngest squirrel – adventure was at the center of the squirrel’s personality even though this particular adventure was merely overlooked and not sought-out. He was made to be boisterous and shake up life in the tree. He never thought it was wrong to test out the waters and see about the acorn that lay at the foot of his home.

But one day he did. And it changed his whole perspective.

Unbenounced to his parents early one morning, the little squirrel ventured out to find his own food. Stopping at the petite particular acorn sitting next to his tree’s root, he tugged on it. It didn’t budge. So he pulled slightly harder. Still no movement. So he pulled with all his might and he fell on his butt. But – he did have an acorn in his hand. Surprised at himself that he had grasped his own food, the squirrel hopped up and held up the acorn. He stopped in mid-motion as the acorn was attached to a long stem. He pulled and the stem kept coming. He pulled for several minutes.

Then he got down on his knees and began to dig. He plunged his little claws into the ground and sent dirt through his legs, heaping into a large pile behind him. He stopped a couple of inches down to notice several off-shoots of the root to the right and to the left. He examined them, pulled them out a little bit, then kept digging.

By midday, the squirrel was tired. His parents yelled to his from their perch in the tree. “What are you doing? You’ve made a mess – just put that back!” They had dug a little bit years ago, but chose instead to find other sources of food, rather than follow this unorthodox acorn trail.

A couple of younger squirrels began to catch on to what the petite squirrel was up to. They too began to dig; some at the original spot and some at others where the intense root system had diverged. The squirrel sat back and smiled as the other squirrels helped him dig. He enjoyed their company. They sat down for dinner at the foot of the tree. Next to all the dirt and dirty from their day’s toil, they all came together and communed for dinner. “This acorn is delicious!” said one worker. The others nodded in agreement.

They kept up the work the next day, ever seeking to find the end of the trail. The elder squirrels continued to mock and criticize from their perches, never coming down to inquire or even bring some water. But - the squirrels found comfort in being together – thirsting for the same goal. They wanted to know where the trail would lead, but never doubted that each other’s motivation. Each knew why he was there: if they gave up the quest...

The Gospel According to Romeo & Juliet

So this week I spent 4 nights of the week and one full day hearing the wisdom of Don Miller. In fact, I had a chance to just sit and talk with him over a brew at the local pub. As we talked about his life in Portland, conversation ventured into what he spoke about previously that evening. He exposited the play Romeo and Juliet as both symbolic of Christ’s love and relationship with his people and a limited allegory of the political/religious upheaval of 16th century Catholicism/Protestantism.

If you remember the play, Don maintains that the “balcony scene” is inconsequential and unnecessary without reference to Christ’s love for the church. The Christ-figure Juliet goes so far as to say that to love her, Romeo must “deny thy father and refuse thy name,” to which Romeo proclaims that he is unable within himself. This “salvation” scene, wrought with deep love, not simple facts or wrote prayers, reveals Shakespeare’s understanding of the Gospel that far-surpasses our post-Enlightenment culture’s four spiritual laws and scientific evangelism. The deep love that begins in this scene is not consummated until the end of the play, when Juliet drinks a poison that makes her rise in three days. Romeo dies with her, that he may live with Juliet forever in death. At the end of the play, both lie on the altar together. What a beautiful picture of the love of Christ – he’s willing to die on our behalf, then be raised again to have a relationship with us. And we – out of the same love that he showed us – are willing to die for him that we might live with him in eternity.

Well-worth your time to re-read Romeo & Juliet (or re-watch it). And if you have the means, talk to Don about it.

"get off me"

"you do smell like a boy" - melissa earlier this evening

"ya, i thought i smelled myself earlier" - me

____________ <------ that line is time passing and me getting in bed

a flying something wizzes by my head

<this is the feeling of thing something is crawling in one's hair>

i try to swipe it out

<this is the feeling of something crawling on one's back>

i try to swipe it off

<this is the feeling of not being sure if one's mind is making this up>

i try to swipe again

<this is the sound of something hitting the wall>

i look over to see a ladybug crawling around

<this is the feeling of wondering if this is because one smells or one's garden attracts bugs>

... must be the garden.

Happy Blogiversary!

This 89th post marks the 366th day of my blogging life.

At this time last year, I was in school.
At this time last year, I was a minister in a mega-church.
At this time last year, I was planning a budget for a film.
At this time last year, I was wearing a size 11.5 shoe.

A lot can change in one year.

Today - I am jobless.
Today - I am "church"less (as defined by those within the "church").
Today - I am planning to write another screenplay.
Today - I am still wearing a size 11.5 shoe. (Some things stayed the same.)

Twas a long, hard, but great year. Thanks for experiencing it with me.

Cheers to the next year - one that will probably usher in even more change!