The same can of worms ... but, it's been a while.

I was discussing female pastors with a friend, a pastor's wife, and specifically my father's reaction to the topic. Everytime my father meets a female pastor he immediately thinks they are a lesbian. I was telling her about his reaction to a specific female pastor, one that I like a lot and know my friend knows well. When dad saw her he said, "She's a dike." My friend said, "Well, she's not out of the closet, but if she was a lesbian - she'd still be the same person ... and that person is a really good pastor."

Now, I've generally been opposed to gay pastors. Some days I support it, but most I find myself opposed to it. I usually hold with the camp that says that a pastor should be a moral compass and shouldn't live in sin. Well, when my friend said that I realized that I would support this particular pastor if she was a lesbian. She's a good pastor and is effective. She wouldn't have any more sin than any of the other pastors or be in any more of a lifestyle sin than most. I've always felt that all of the arguments in favor of it were pretty weak. Now, I find myself supporting it.

My favorite bumper sticker states, "It was Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve!" I love this because it's so wrong. God made a perfect creation - one man and one woman ... and, no pain in childbirth, no need for clothing, etc. God made a perfect creation - one without homosexuality. But, Adam and Eve chose sin - and because of that we have pain in childbirth, a need for clothing, and ... Adam and Steve. Homosexuality is a sin - but it's no worse than any sin I've ever committed.

If we were honest with ourselves we would realize that to one extant or another we all live in sin. When a girl gets knocked up we make her marry the man who she had sex with. Marriages end in divorce (which God hates) so often partly because people are in lust (a sin) and not love. We have unfriendly churches, skyrocketing divorce rates, and we sin by lying about our sin. My Aunt Sharol lied to a cop to get out of a ticket and now claims she didn't (technically) lie.

My reasoning isn't that "we have so much sin why not add a little more" or that "things are so bad in the church that this won't even matter. My reasoning is that when we think the best of ourselves and the worst of others we are living in sin. When we view our sin as "less sinful" than the sin of others we blatantly lie about the nature of sin. I believe that the term "lifestyle sin" is a technicality that we have made up to insulate ourselves from the pain of viewing our own sin. We decide that a person openly living in sin is worse than when we lie about our sin so that no one needs to see how black our hearts are.

Some days my heart is pretty black. It would be pretty easy to avoid looking at my own sin by focusing on the sin of others. If we won't allow a pastor to serve because he or she is living a lifestyle of sin - well, we don't have a pastor in the conference who could continue to preach. Jesus told us to do the exact opposite - to focus on our own sin. I feel that everyone should resist the powers of sin and run into the arms of Christ - but I am thoroughly convinced that no sin will prevent a person from preaching the good news of Christ.

Saddam is dead. I love the bi-partisan politics. Fox News has a big picture of a startled Saddam with skulls and bones behind it with the word "Hanged" in 98 pt font. CNN has a nice black box with a composed picture of Saddam with his birth date and death date in small white letters - as though he had been a TV star of former President.

Politics make me squeamish these days. I like the games though.

Well, I'm home for the long haul. I'm doing this "home" thing for as long as it takes. Sorry I haven't blogged anything deep or insightful - I'm taking a nice break from thinking.

I will be going in to see the doctor tomorrow morning. I'm going to Cranberry for a YAMT meeting at night. My aunt will be coming in tomorrow night. I'm driving to Ohio on Saturday to go swing dancing with Dustin and other Ohioan friends. Yay! I will be in Ohio for the new year. I would really like to get my flight switched so I can have a few days in Georgia to get everything settled in ... but my parent's aren't too cool with that.

So, I will be around for a little bit longer. I still need to hang out with a few more people before I head home.

A Reflection on Christmas Eve

This might be a little random, long, and intense - you've been warned.

I went to my cousin's Grandma Charlotte's house for a meal. Her extended family, a hearty grouping of friends, and five dogs crowd her small house. Everyone drinks beer and swears. I love it there. My 8 year old cousin's uncle calls him "shithead" and he responds in kind by refering to his uncle as an "asshole." He would be beat mercilessly if his grandmother Gillotti ever heard those words. They all give big gifts - usually cash. So boring. My cousin's great uncle was there - he's a great guy and really fun to talk to. They have heaps of money - all of them.

I went to the midnight service with my family. I made some notes in my bulletin - I'll try and educate everyone as to the point being made in each note:

Why could I never love Scott Losey? - Scott was a new kid at school when I was a senior. He was super ADD and really hyper. He got picked on a lot and made a fool out of himself. I could never force myself to love him. I talked to him, once or twice - but I never allowed my heart to bleed with compassion for him, I never wept at the deep understanding of his need for a savior, I never showed him any real love. He was at the service tonight. When he saw me his face lit up and he waved - real big. Why do I fail so often at loving people like Christ does?

It doesn't matter who you've slept with. - Pastor David was praying ... and making the point that it doesn't matter what sins you've committed in all circumstances you are welcome here. He said, "It doesn't matter where you've been, it doesn't matter what you've done. You are welcome here." All I could think was this one thought. It doesn't matter who you've slept with. Bill Thompson is accepted and welcomed. I am welcomed. My sister, mother, and father are welcomed. The man who raped my friend would be welcomed. People who have hurt me so drastically would be welcomed.

This song is me! - The 4th verse of "In the Bleak Midwinter" is the story of my life. It essentially says that all I have is my heart - so I'll give it to Jesus. That's me. I'm poor. All I have is my heart, college debt, and some free time. That's it. It's His. Let's hope he makes this wreck of a life brand new!

We sang the closing hymns, raised our candles, and gave hugs. It really was a merry Christmas. My mother's postlude was phenomenal. It gave me chills. We came home to a very hostile house. Dad had been slighted - his job, of 17 years tradition, was to dim the lights. He was sitting with us and the pastor's wife, thinking her husband hadn't covered all of his bases, dimmed the lights. He was furious. We tried to talk some reason into him, he yelled about how horrible the church is and how he can't leave because no one will let him - pure bull - and about how we always take the church's side. Mom cried, Rebecca bravely spoke out, I tried to talk some sense into him ... but, it sucked. Christmas Eve sucked.

When Rebecca's boyfriend lit his candle off of mine, we raised them together because everyone else was busy, I was so excited - This is why Christ came to earth. Christ didn't come to be a baby. He didn't come to glow and glimmer in a manger scene 200 years later. He came to change the world. He came to give life and hope to everyone. He came to change hearts. I cried, knowing that my future brother-in-law was reading the words to Joy to the World. That hymn, that beautiful hymn - that's why Christ came. I cried. I hugged people who hadn't been in church for a while (I challenged a ladies' Bible study group to do the same) And I skipped out of church.

Then I got home and my father had to suck the life out of everything. This might, honestly, be my last Christmas at home. It was nice to see everyone, but it's not worth it.

I'm baking some cinnamon rolls so that mom will be happy in the morning. Here's to a wonderful Christmas morning.

A little while ago my whole family was sitting in the TV room, TV blaring a news show, while everyone sat at his or her respective computer. I was reading postsecret, my father doing genealogy, my mother working on something for church, and my sister and her boyfriend playing a game. Maybe this is why I like being alone. At least in my house people don't gather together just to avoid each other. I know that a dysfunctional family is all the rage these days and makes for great reality TV, but really ... how dysfunctional do we need to be?

Today, my mother said hell. When I was nine my mother said crappy and we all giggled. It was the first time we had ever heard our mother – Saint Debbie the Meek – swear. It was today that she simply stated the fact that her life was a living hell. No one giggled at this cuss word.

In this room ,the ceiling crumbles, mother begs for carpeting, a sadly tilted Christmas tree gives mother comfort – she will at least have a fun story to tell people, too few ornaments, though. The couch she received as a gift, the rocker from her grandmother, the hideous green chair from her grandfather (the one I hope to inherit,) her greatly prized grand piano sits wonderfully in one corner of her living room – taking up, it seems, most of the room. The matching picture frames around the beautiful pictures of her two children. The one surrounding me was bought four years after my sister’s frame was purchased. Debbie is happiest that they practically match. Each room in her house is comprised of small reminders of victories and defeats. The living room is her main room and contains most of her victories, and perhaps her most looming defeats.

My mother was a single parent. Our father is alive, married to our mother, and lives with us. My mother raised two children by herself. As children we almost never saw her cry. When her grandmother’s died in succession she didn’t cry. Her back gave her considerable pain, a disk slipped when I was born – I’ve been told that at times she couldn’t stand up, but I never saw my mother wince or hear one breath of complaint. She knew I would blame myself. My mother lives the life of a saint.

In times when life is hard, when life is a living hell, most people give up. My mother presses on. Her husband’s health problems place him in fits of fury. He will be fine one minute and screaming the next. A sensible woman would have divorced years ago, but Debbie isn’t sensible – she’s a saint. She lives her life, every day, for God alone. She raised two children who love God (who could improve a good bit in showing it, yes,) she leads the most active youth ministry at my church (at a church which pays a youth leader,) and she stands by her husband (when most would turn and run.)

Her world, like the ceiling in her living room, is crumbling. Her love for God keeps her life intact and her prayers hopeful. I will never be a saint. I’m too selfish and needy. My mother chooses to serve everyone around her with the sole exclusion of her personally happiness. But, she didn’t raise my sister or me to do the same. No, she inspired us to fight. Perhaps that is why I think my mother is most worthy of sainthood.

I'm watching CNBC. It's on the TV, anyway. They are discussing people's Christmas Cheer. People's spending is up $300 from just a few days ago. Obviously people are in more of a Christmas spirit now than they were a few days ago. They are spending much more money ... they've caught the Christmas spirit.

Bah humbug. I don't have a dime and I have even less Christmas spirit. (Actually I have a little over $3 and I have enough Christmas spirit to last me through the holiday thanks to little Adam Hickey playing the piano for the kid's Christmas Pageant.) I liked this holiday a lot more when I was younger. Santa doesn't bring me happiness. Giant plastic nativity scenes don't fulfill. Inflatable snowmen and snowglobes make me queasy. Tilted, real trees give me some joy ... but it's artificial (like next year's tree will be.)

I don't feel enthused anticipating the birth of the savior. Some days I forget just how important His birth was. I'm going to spend Christmas eve celebrating the birth of our Savior. Christmas day I will probably succumb to the fervor of consumerism.

My mother is talking to the cats again. It's good to know that things are back to normal ... ish.

I'm officially on my sixth round of anti-biotics since August. I might need to have my tonsils removed to avoid more illness. Dang it. I really don't want to have to go through surgery - but it might be best for me.

I really wish Bishop Bickerton kept a blog. That would make me very happy. I spent a few hours with Bob and Ruth Higginbotham last night. Ruth is making a matching game for her grandaughter out of pictures of Bob. I love them. We had a good talk about the conference - it's nice to be brought up to date on everything. I will be in Cranberry on the 28th for the YAMT event. Hollah ... represent.

Becka is going through my Facebook and looking at all the drunken pictures of my friends.

So, I've decided to write a personal Christmas letter for everyone who reads my blog. I love Christmas letters - how often do people get to talk about themselves in the third person.

Michael finishes off 2006 with a new house and great expectations for 2007. Michael will have spent less than a month in Kane, PA this year. Most of the year he has lived in Georgia. Michael finished his third semester at Toccoa Falls College, majoring in Cross Cultural Studies.

Michael worked at Camp Glisson this summer as a councelor. He had a really great summer making lots of new friends, helping to build the United Methodist church in North Georgia, and ultimately working to build the kingdom. He was part of a failed new church start near Gainesville, GA. The Water's Edge will be planted within the decade, but the conference chose to rework the "how" factor for the church plant. He learned a lot about church planting and preaching from Joe Peabody, Jr.

Michael's last semester was a difficult one. He had pneumonia twice and some pretty bad roomate problems. His grades weren't the best this semester, but he enjoyed the semester. He took a Jane Austen class and enjoyed it greatly. He fought for several weeks for permission to move off campus and was very glad to finally win the uphill battle. Michael signed a year long lease for a small house at 114 Schaefer Court. Toccoa GA 30577.

Michael is currently in a non-triogamous polyandreous relationship (translation: he's single, happy, and has a great group of friends that he loves dearly.) Michael is most happy about the friends in his life. He has rarely been this happy about one particular subject.

Michael is active at Toccoa First United Methodist church. He leads the drama ministry at the church and the group did two extremely succesful skits this semester and has been invited to continue doing skits at both services. Michael attends the Curtis Trogdon Wesley class (comprised mostly of older adults) and also works with the children's ministry for special projects. He is greatly enjoying the multi-generational approach to ministry that he has found at this growing church.

Michael will be in Pennsylvania until January 18th. He will be working with the theatre arts department, reading un-assigned books, and working on some projects for the drama group. Michael has thoroughly enjoyed writing about Michael in the third person.

I sat in the Borders on Peach Tree St. and read both of the postsecret books. I sat for a long time thinking of which of my secrets I would send in. I don't really have many that I would send in, and most would end up being pretty mundane/common. I don't think I have any secret that no one knows. If there is one it's because it isn't an interesting enough secret.

During the last senior high week of church camp we all sat down and shared the burdens of our lives. We shared together in a loving environment stories of abuse and pain. It was a beautiful cathartic thing.

I read page after page of people who cut themselves or where abused as children. It was an intense thing to see so many people's secrets. I sat in a circle, this summer, of wonderful Christian people who dealt with so much pain. It was a beautiful thing to see so many people dealing with their secrets.

Writing a secret on a Postcard and giving it to the world doesn't ease the pain. Giving a secret over to Christ, especially in a loving environment, is life changing. There's a whole world out there who are so desperate for relief from the secrets of their life. Jesus is always ready to take away our pain ... but we need to let it go, first.

Marty came to Toccoa First United Methodist of her own volition. On her first Sunday she walked into the sanctuary and saw only one end seat open. She asked the older lady sitting further in that pew if she could sit with her and the woman promptly responded that the seat was reserved. Like the scene from Forrest Gump, Marty walked through the church being told “seat’s taken!” She came back three weeks in a row without anyone ever speaking to her. On the third week she gave up and decided that she was done with the whole “church thing.” A man about her age came up to her after the service and introduced himself. Charles Smith and his wife Mary Jo brought dinner to Marty and her husband during that week.

A goodly number of years later Marty and Charles are both elderly adults. Mary Jo has passed on and Marty’s husband is too old to go to church (if he ever did.) Charles is a little bit crazy and scares some of the youth and Marty says whatever the hell she damn well pleases. Charles will make little announcements during Bible Study that don’t quite make sense and Marty will most likely bring up in Sunday School the fact that we need to get George Bush out of office. I love them.

Everyone give disclaimers about these two older adults. “Marty tells it how it is. She says what she wants and doesn’t care who hears it. Some people might be surprised at her language, but you won’t find a nicer Christian lady. If you need prayer go to her, if you ever need anything she’ll do it.” “Charles has brought so many people into this church. He’s old, deaf, and sometimes says things that shouldn’t be said in public, but he loves God and still wants to make a difference in the world. Don’t ever cross him though, he’ll get even.”

I’ve named my car Controversy. It seems to be the name that best fits. When I was in the process of getting permission to move off campus, I was a little nervous that the administration would come and search my room. I took everything out that would be considered sinful. I put my “bag of sin” in my car for safekeeping. (Featured items included: a Chairman Mao shirt, a Michael Moore book, the movie Saved!, and a Maya Angelou book – if only I could say that this was the actual extent of my sin activity!) My car took “the threesome” to the Christmas banquet. It also took the only gay, Jimmy, and his very straight “date,” Steven, to the Christmas banquet. They went together to try and create a scandal before Jimmy left the school. Controversy pretty much sums up my car.
I hope that when I am old people will say these things about me. I hope that people will say, “He drops the F-bomb sometimes, but he loves Christ more than anyone I know. Sometimes he says some pretty heretical statements, but he sure tells a lot of people about Jesus.” Here’s to hoping!

There’s a lot of change in the air. I’m all moved into my new house. A few friends have graduated. Jon and Ann are married and won’t be needing a chaperone anymore. There’s a lot of change going on.

My church has a contemporary worship service. It is one of the few Methodist churches that I have seen “do” contemporary “right.” The music is always changing with what is popular and it is never stagnant. We aren’t singing songs that were really popular in the 90s. They serve a light breakfast because of the early time slot. The preaching stems from people’s heartfelt needs. It’s a beautiful thing. I’m, deep down, a traditionalist. Although I don’t like dressing up I love singing hymns and would love to see a church that does liturgy with the right level of enthusiasm.

There is one component of worship that I think should be re-evaluated in the traditional service and added to the contemporary. I love the acolytes. I was explaining to a group of charismatics and Baptists what an acolyte did. “They start the service by bringing the light of Christ into the service and they end by leading the processional of the people as they take the light of Christ out into the world. I love that aspect. I love seeing the acolytes lead the procession of people on their way out of church – on their way to take the light of Christ out into the world.

Toccoa First handed out free Hot Chocolate at a recent parade. The hot cocoa doesn’t matter. We went out on the streets and talked to people. We met people – new people. The guys talked with non-Christians about football and the women talked with people who need God’s love about children and the church’s children’s program. The people of First Methodist don’t live in a vacuum. I think that if Falls students went out on the streets we would all return having found 5 Christians and argued with them about the finer points of Calvinism vs. Arminianism. I don’t think we would be able to relate in any real way with “real” people. No one was radically saved on that street corner where we passed out the hot cocoa, but a lot of people were introduced to a new church family and shown the love of Christ in a positive way. We took the light of Christ out into the world. A church full of acolytes.

Ed and Susan invited us to their house. They are both in their forties and really hot. We had a great meal and watched some TV. Ed let me borrow his truck to move. Ed plays ball with his son, leads his son’s boy scout troop, and makes enough money to spoil his son … but doesn’t. Ed makes me want to be a better father to my future son(s).

Jarvis and Sharon lead busy lives. Sharon is no longer employed full time and money is a little tight around their house. They had our small group over and cooked a big Indonesian meal for us. They fit so well together and work together so well. They are both really happy and always praising God. Seeing them makes me want to be a better Christian.

I watched Saved again today. It’s a beautiful movie and it makes so many excellent points about living out the Christian life. It’s a movie about a Christian high school and the drama that ensues. It pokes fun at both fundamentalism and teen movies. I wish their was at least one strong Christian. There are lots of hypocritical people who play Christians on daytime TV … but the movie lacks a strong Christian character. I guess it’s a lot like life for a lot of people. A lot of people lack a true relationship with a strong, loving Christian. A lot of people never come in contact with an acolyte, a person who takes the light of Christ out into the world.

I have my first final in a few minutes. It is hard to imagine that it is already finals week. It's a good thing to imagine though. I have been given permission to live off campus. I have a house secured and will sign the lease when my deposit check comes in the mail (my mother sent it today ... let's hope it makes it soon.) and then I can sign the lease and move in.

Next semester I will live in a little two bedroom house with a small yard and a very nice kitchen. The house is perfect and I feel so blessed to be moving there.

A friend from church showed me the house a few weeks ago and I just knew that I would live in that house. My petition to move off campus was rejected ... but I still knew I would live in that house. My petition was rejected a sexond time, but I had faith that I would live in that house. I still drove by the house daily and prayed for it. By the time I had been given permission to move off campus the house had already been filled. I still knew that I would live in that little grey house. Finally the other renter backed out and I filled out the paper work. With a monthly income of $50-$150 and a rent payment of $400 a month the company allowed me to rent from them.

The whole time I knew that I had to praise God for that house. When I found out that it had already been rented I said a prayer of thanksgiving that I would one day live in that house. This is really the first time that I can honestly say I have trusted God. It feels good.

Well, I'm about to take a final I didn't prepare for (ask me about my day ... it's a fun story!)

I have chosen the names of my first two sons. Michael Reese and Mathan Modest.

I'm not planning on having children anytime soon ... not until well after I'm married. I like the name Michael Reese because (this is the part I won't tell my wife) it is the name of the lead singer of my favorite band. It's also my first name and my great aunt Mabel's last name. Michael Reese. I would call my son Reese. I have just started taking to the name Mathan Modest. Mathan is a name of someone in the lineage of Jesus. Modest is the name of Peter Tchaikovsky's brother. In Russia my son would be called Modest and in the states my son would be called Mathan. Reese and Mathan. I have always decided to just let my wife name our children ... but ... I want children now. I want to have sons and raise them up in the ways of the Lord. I want my sons to know the Bible and to know our Savior. I want to be a better father than mine ... I want to be a daddy.