Some days I want to rant.

Some days I want to cry.

Some days I want to flee.

Some days I want to rejoice.

Some days I do all of the above.

I want to say that Jesus spent a lot of time in bars. I want to say it, because I believe that the functional equivalent of that statement is true. Jesus Christ, friend of sinners. The Pharisees thought that Jesus was a drunkard because of the crowd he hung with.

I've wasted 20 precious years building a good reputation. I have one of the best. My good reputation proceeds me. I can't enter a bar without it being a big deal. Everyone was shocked that I went to play pool at the Buckhorn.

God, please allow me to play pool in bars with people who have never heard of you.

There's a part of me that wants to let go and let God. There's a part of me that wants to find myself at the end of a dark, scary alley; cold, yet at peace, knowing that God has guided me there and will see me through. There's a part of me that wants to grip onto every selfish thought I've ever had. It's easiest if I hold on to my comfortable life. Plush comfort, good reputation, nice church family.

God, please allow me to find myself in situations I never asked for, never expected, and could never dig out of on my own.

When I was in High School, until 10th grade, I only hung out with the Christian kids. We formed a clique and never strayed. At some point I left and began friendships with sinners (or at least those who openly acknowledged their sin.) My Christian friends were heart - and some feared I was no longer a Christian.

God, please remind me to look outside of the church for friendship.

I've gotten back in the Christian crowd - and I'm unhappy. My family isn't happy that I could ruin my reputation ... but I'm so damn tired of the choir boy routine. Most days I don't give a damn about the poor: some days I care less.

God, please forgive me for my transgressions. I have not loved with my whole heart - or even the biggest part.

This break reminded me of the need to "go into all the world." That starts right here. In dark alleys, in filthy houses, in smoke filled bars. The invitations I'm handing out are addressed to people the world would scorn. Christ has come for this!

God, forgive me for craving comfort more than I have ever craved you.

Amen.

Seeing my family again reminds me why I want to lose weight. Rebecca has promised me that if I ever get as big as aunt sharol she will kill me. It's a nice gesture, really.

Family ... what a beautiful thing.

Christmas in the Empire. - Bishop William H. Willimon.

It's strange to hear a prophetic voice in this day and age.

I recently had a doctor's appointment in the same building as an obesity clinic. The obesity section had a large bulletin board with "before and after" pictures of people who had recieved major surgery to lose weight. My mom pointed out the most interesting thing about the pictures; those who were happy in the "before" picture were happy in the "after" picture. Those who were unhappy in the "before" picture were unhappy in the "after" picture. Losing half of their body weight did nothing to improve their level of joy.

I see a lot of Christians every day who struggle with a multitude of sins. I hear Christians say "if only" they could get over that one particular sin habit. Masturbation, pornography, homosexuality, lust, gluttony, cursing, smoking, etc. The list goes on. (I don't think all of those things mentioned in the list are sin - yet that is the list) That "if only" they could overcome that one addictive sin behavior that they could ... could what? I never quite hear the rest of the sentence. Be happy, I suppose, or be righteous, or get right with Christ.

I weigh in at a portly 285. I'm not garguntuam, but I am a bigger person. I realized a number of years ago that if I couldn't be happy with who I was as a fat person, that I could never be happy with who I was at any size. It was a revelation, really. I stopped hating myself. I still don't want to see any photos of my body at pool parties, but I can be happy with who I am.

I think the same principle applies in both situations. Not that we should be happy with our sinful old selfs, but that we should be able to rejoice in what Christ has already done in us. If we can't celebrate the fact that Christ died for the forgiveness of our sins while we are yet sinners, how can we pretend that we would celebrate that fact if we were without sin?

I think the old "love the sinner hate the sin" slogan applies first and foremost to ourselves. Christ has counted each and every one of us as worthy of salvation - now why should we hate ourselves for our sin? A friend who struggles with homosexuality recently said that if people found out his secret he would kill himself. This simply breaks my heart. 1.) That we as the church have created a culture that elevates one sin above all others that a person can't even openly struggle against sin without being persecuted. 2.) That a person could hate the sinner (even unto death) even when the sinner is looking him back in the mirror, and 3.)That the church has so blatantly missed the mark and has no plan to revise its current stance, even knowing that it has caused much harm.

This Christmas, take a break from loving family and friends and be selfish. Love yourself. Love the sinner that you look at every day in the mirror. Show grace, mercy, and forgiveness to yourself. Celebrate that Christ died for you knowing that you would continually mess up - even after salvation. Celebrate the new life that Christ has given to you- knowing that you aren't perfect - and celebrate the victorious limp knowing that Christ's love is sufficient even in the face of your "secret little sin."

Christ has come for this

Those were the lyrics the high school boy might have heard as he passed the group of adults singing christmas carols. "Christ has come for this."

He might have heard them. The singers were engaged in a power play of musical tempo, making the understanding of lyrics difficult. If he did hear them, he might have understood them. He might have understood them. We were all scowling because of the cold, and if our message was one of joy I think we missed our mark.

Truly, Christ has come for this. For this boy - for his heart to be turned toward God. Not for petty squabbles to be carried out in His name, not for families to fake and feign holiday joy, not for songs to be sung to graying streets filled with slush; but for people.

That God would come to earth as a baby speaks volumes about His heart. That we can't even get through a four verse carol without needing things done our way says a lot about our hearts.

But, alas, Christ has come for this. For us - for our hearts to be turned toward His.

"Faith is not a story of belief in the midst of predictability. You must believe when everyone and everything tells you not to. Faith is the ability to clean the lenses and find hope and joy among the cracks. Faith is found in the midst of life, not in spite of it. This is a story of Christmas. Each Christmas, inspired by Mary and Joseph, find reason to believe even when idyllic dreams of life change."

Bishop Tom Bickerton

I'm in Pennsylvania, being paraded around as the trophy child No.2. It's disgusting. I get to go home soon, so hopefully I can take advantage of this time home to get together with old friends.

Here's to seeing what happens.

The Nativity Story

Most often we fail to fully embrace the eccentricity of the birth narrative as described in the gospels. We sterilize the story and trap it in a box of religious zeal. It becomes holy and sanctified until we are no longer suprised by it. It was a “then” thing. But, could you imagine the story happening today; the unlikely cast of characters:

Elizabeth: The old biddy of a pastor’s wife who gains a few pounds and suddenly thinks she’s pregnant with a special child. She might be right, but with a suddenly-mute husband and a new-found Buddha belly things aren’t looking to bright, not to mention her youngest cousin …

Mary: The 13 year old “virgin” who somehow managed to get knocked up. Oh sure, she’ll be memorialized with a stoic face, full of grace; but tonight she looks scared as hell. We want to judge her, but we recall our own past and remember that no one is truly pure; remembering our own sexual transgressions we wish to keep hidden – and we say a little prayer of thanks that we never ended up with child-support payments or a young one of our own. The ladies at Bible Study, who all agree that she hasn’t been coming faithfully enough talk behind her back, “Poor dear, God bless her sinful little heart.” Not to mention her poor fiancé ….

Joseph: The man with one marriage behind him about to marry his new bride; she’s pregnant and he knows he isn’t the father. The fool will probably marry her anyway. He believes her angel stories. Men will believe anything, it seems. Or maybe he just doesn’t have too many prospects left. So they travel out of town because of an edict, darn governmental red tape, and try to find even one last room happening upon …

The innkeeper: The foreign-born hotel owner who is finally getting ahead during the mid-season rush, with a full hotel, and a strange couple looking for the last room in town. He knows that every two-bit motel is full tonight, and he’s compelled to help. He can’t just send a pregnant woman out into the cold, can he? Maybe they could just sleep in the lobby or the old tool shed out back? If only he had known just what he was in for and who all would show up …

The lowliest shepherds: The mill-workers pulling extra hours at the mill to make a few bucks to spend for the season. Living a gritty, grimy existence, covered from head to toe with grease, they claim to have seen an angel pointing the way to a better existence. They claim to be honest men, but you know how people in their profession act, I’m sure they saw an angel – they probably saw some little green men, but there were others …

The wise men: Men with expendable income, excess time, and no wives to keep them at home? In a modern retelling they would have to be the gay. Three queens, riding in from the city without a clue about the small town culture. Bringing lavish, pointless gifts: Gucci bags, Prada shoes, and enough hair care products to last a baby with no hair at least 3 years. There is just one other player …

The Baby King: Perhaps the most sterilized, trivialized, stock-character of them all in our classic tale, but perhaps the one who was originally the most scandalous. Th’incarnate one; Christ the Lord. It’s bad enough that God leaves his post in Heaven, but that he takes the form of a baby? God, being passed around by greasy mechanics and rich queens, simply coos and smiles.

It doesn’t fit on a Christmas card. It doesn’t have a pretty bow. There are loose ends; we’re left unsatisfied. Mary can’t prove she’s a virgin; Jesus can’t prove he’s the King. We have unreliable witnesses or witnesses with tarnished testimonies – you take your pick. There’s nothing certifiable about the whole story, you aren’t sure if you want to tell your kids (especially your 13 years old daughter) all the details.

So Mary become the heroine of courageous faith, Joseph the honest man of valor, the shepherds show up clean with white sheep, and the wise men seem to have a point and purpose. It makes a beautiful Christmas card – we come to accept it as easy fact … but we fail to realize the scandal behind the story. We see these people as plastic figurines and it sets our minds at ease.

I'm feeling like a bit of a failure at the moment. It's an odd feeling that I get every know and then. It's a feeling of depression, but I can't figure out any reason for the depression; at least not a reason that makes sense.

The drama team I lead was going to do a skit for 11 church. The girl who I want to give the lead too doesn't want to do it. My top priority is to give the kids the courage and confidence that they need to thrive in life. I feel like I haven't accomplished that. It's a sad feeling.

I cussed twice in youth group on Sunday. I was in the senior high youth group discussion and I was so angry that I cussed ... twice. Not just once, but twice. I don't think that cussing is a sin ... but I don't want to encourage younger beliefs to sin ... but I do want them to be honest. If they think that the core tenets of the Christian faith are bullshit ... i want them to be free to voice that. I don't want them to feel that they have to be someone they aren't because their in church. I know they cuss at school; why shouldn't they be the same person at church?

I have a friend, of whom I love dearly, who makes me feel like I am a burden on his busy life. He's never said anything, but I always feel like he's just shy of telling the truth ... it's so odd.

How can you be simultaneously happy and sad?

Из всех искусств важнейшим для нас является кино. - Влади́мир Ильи́ч Ульянов
Translation: Cinema is the most important of all the arts for us. - V. I. Lenin

I spent 9 1/2 hours in a film session yesterday. It was glorious. I was feeling a little communist today, and a good bit in love with film.