Apolitical

I really should stay out of politics.

Really, I know I should. I get in all kinds of trouble when I get involved in political situations. I have nerve damage in my hands from the handcuffs if you can't think of any other good example.

The problem is: I'm good at politics. I enjoy a good debate and I have a real skill for it. I'm good at working out a compromise and making sure that everyone leaves the table happy. I've been known to throw out an impassioned speech from time to time. I think I would be a good politician.

I can answer a question without answering the question.

But I feel that when I get political, that I leave part of myself behind. I get swept up in the moment and I forget the things that really matter to me. I think this is true of most politicians.

While I'm really surprised to see that conservative Christians would gladly throw their support behind a candidate of a different religion; I think that religion doesn't matter. You can't be a good politician and a devout anything. In order to get to the places of prominence and importance in todays world - you have to be willing to betray that which you once cared about.

You have to be willing to crush your opponent with power and strength. That doesn't sound very Christian.

Christianity is essentially an exercise in powerlessness.

The marginalized on a grand march to the doors of the wealthy elite and powerful; we plead with them to understand that in the end we were winning all along. We, the meek, will inherit the earth.

It brings me great pain to see the posturing and positioning begin for General Conference. Every four years we allow the mantras of the corporate world, the slogans of the campaign trail, and the -isms of the world to enter our hearts and minds. Our doors are closed to the powerless as the powerful make decisions that we will fail to internalize and which in turn will fail to materialize the change that we all want to see.

In the corner of my heart that beats slowest; I'm still convinced that the people who are affecting real change in our denomination are people whose names we will never know. They are not politicians; they are servants.

They smile broadly and pray as they bake a casserole for someone getting out of the hospital. They break the crack of dawn to shovel snow in front of the church. They clean the church without pay and without thanks. They feed the kiddos on Tuesday afternoon. They walk 12 miles to Bible classes. They invited strangers into their apartments for a worship service. They sing Halleluiah and they mean it. They understand that the bills can be paid later, but the people need rice right now.

They are God's littlest. And they are blessed.

My new obsession

I first tried this product when I was vacationing in Warsaw with friends. We cooked borscht and fried up some vegetarian fried chicken substitute. When they pulled these hard little bricks of protein out of the bag I was absolutely disgusted. I couldn't imagine eating something so bizarre. It didn't help that we were all falling over each other to see the directions which essentially read - just add water. We coated them in egg and flour (very flexetarian of us) and fried them up. I honestly would have never guessed they were not chicken. They were light and tender, and flavorful. Just the right blend of spices and texture of meat.

Last week my flatmate told me that you could purchase the same product here. For around a dollar a bag you can buy this faux-meat product. It is used routinely in the states and goes by the acronym TVP. We never eat it in place of meat, but rather we use it as a meat extender. It extends the meat we use. Usually we use it in prisons and school systems (thank you Wikipedia for that delightful life affirmation) in order to cut costs. Just stir in some ground up flakes into real meat and they will absorb the flavor and mimic the texture of the meat being prepared. Think back to the last school taco you ate ... yep.



So, now that it's -20 outside, everyone is basically a shut in. We've already eaten everything edible - so we're down to just eating soy based protein. I'm very committed to figuring out how to make this stuff taste awesome. First you boil it.



Doesn't that look disgusting? But, honestly, I'm disgusted by raw meat, too. I guess this isn't any more disgusting.

Here it is after being pan seared and served with some mustard. It's not nearly as good as it was fried ... but it didn't taste bad. Today I made tacos with it and they were really enjoyable.



And since you made it the whole way through two disgusting pictures to get to the final product - I figured I should throw in another great picture. Here is Mefodyi begging for a bath.

A poem in the fashion of Wendell Berry

Your big-box stores will be empty someday; as empty as our main-street store- fronts and our bellies at the end of the month.  All you build will decay, it will be an eyesore some day.  You'll die in your SUV.  It protects you from the winos and beggars, but it doesn't protect you from yourself.  Your McMansion will crumble and sway in the wind and "those people" will move in next door; and  you'll find new places to build new monstrosities.  You'll convince yourself that life is better with a five hour commute.  

And you will declare all of this good. Good, like your grades and then your salary.  And then your wife and your kids and your minivan.  Good.  Good like the prisons full of the bad guys, and good like the children of the lazy going to bed hungry after eating their just desserts.  Let them eat cake...d on food particles that your dishwasher can't seem to get clean but your upgrade will fix.  Lock your doors; check them twice .... For they may steal for their children - from the naughty to the nice.  

We decry the Nazis and Soviets because they are past, but our own systems are better and certainly should last - and we ignore our trains running through the night as the bodies pile up. Out of mind, out of sight.  We all agree that we would have stood up for the just, while we steal from those with just enough; one  miserly tip at a time.  

But you will be happier then.  In the piles of rubble where once your house stood, you will find a home.  You will know the names of your children's friends.  You will read a book and go for a walk to escape the chaos and you will find yourself.  Laughter will be your best medicine and God your only refuge.  You will understand why all the poor people didn't need lithium to survive.  You will be free at last, free at last.  Free from yourself.  Free from the things you owned that owned you, too.  Free at last.  

Intentionally Offensive

I was preparing prayer stations for a worship service the other night. It was an impromptu worship service and everything came together very nicely.

As I was preparing one of the stations, I had the idea of using an untied shoe as a prop to help everyone visualize the point.

Now, Ukrainians have strict rules about shoes. In many Asian countries you are forever removing and replacing your shoes. Even in some stores and restaurants it is impolite to keep your shoes on. In Ukraine it's not such a big deal - we just always take our shoes off in people's apartments and homes. It's a wet and snowy climate and dirty even in the summer in the city. No one touches the ground, sits down on the ground, or places items on the ground. Shoe's are always left in the hallway.

I went back and forth about placing a dirty, untied shoe as part of a prayer station. Eventually I decided to do it.

In college we would have an annual service in which the President of the College would wash some of the students' feet. It was always titled something like "servant leadership chapel". It was a nice thought. Of course we did it because Jesus had done it - but Jesus did it because it was the lowest and most humiliating of all the task a servant could perform. If our president had cared deeply about modeling servant leadership he should have spent a weekend cleaning all of the toilets on campus or pulling hair out of the shower drains. Coming into the dorm bathroom and finding the president of the college plunging the toilet would have left far more of an impression than watching him take off his exspensive watch before dipping someone's feet in water and drying them off.

This is part f being a missionary. We don't do things because that is how they were done for us or because the Bible portrayed a scene - we try to do things to make a point that fits the culture we are working in. I feel like I often take that to mean that I am working hard not to offend anyone. But sometimes we have to be offensive.

Jesus was sometimes terribly offensive. He would draw in huge crowds to hear him speak and just as soon as the church growth gurus shine the spotlight on him as a shining example of how to really grow a church he opens his mouth and tells his predominately Jewish crowd to eat his flesh and drink his blood. These people who would never dare commit the sin of drinking blood are challenged to even drink human blood.

That's intentionally offensive. Jesus breaks the social norms and steps over boundaries all the time in the way he relates to women, people of different ethnic backgrounds, and those known to be guilty of sexual sins found repulsive by the culture.

Sometimes we play it too safe. We work hard to find the medium that will upset the fewest people. We vote democratically instead of prophetically.

The students who attended worship were shocked and disgusted by the untied shoe - but they got the point, discussed it openly after the service, and found a stronger connection to the idea of humility and grace.

The Gospel we believe in is challenging and difficult. It calls us to come and die, to give up everything we own, and to love those that society informs us we shouldn't love. Anything less is simply not the Gospel.

As Landa Cope once said, " If I offended you today ... Good! if I didn't... Come back tomorrow and I'll try again!"

Yesterday I got an email that said that my twitter account had been hacked. My only thoughts was, "I have a twitter account?"

I have not forgotten about blogging.

Really, I swear. I have not forgotten about blogging.

I have some really great ideas - but my mind just won't cooperate long enough to write a thorough post. I have been in Ukraine for almost three weeks and still my brain has not fully re cooperated. My first trip to Russia lasted for exactly three weeks and felt like the longest dream imaginable. We did every under the sun in the city of Konakovo. We toured museums and factories. We learned the Cyrillic alphabet and a handful of words (and I remember saying, "I speak Russian" and feeling only slightly more guilty than I do when I make the same statement today.)

These last three weeks have been short and sweet. I have reconnected with old friends, rested, painted, and otherwise tried to stay out of the way.

I'm trying to spend the month of January focusing on getting readjusted and working on my Ukrainian language skills. I'm trying not to get sucked into the work of ministry responsibility just yet. I'm trying to focus on myself for a bit and to realize how important it is for me and everyone else that I take the time I need to work on learning Ukrainian better.

I would also like to take some time to blog about things going through my mind - but right now I just don't feel like I have the time for that. But, I am almost certain that at some point soon I will have the necessary motivation, inspiration, and determination.