Theological Thoughts for Thursday - On Sin, part 1.

I've been thinking a lot about sin lately. In Chinese they don't have a word for "sin." The closest word they have is something closer to "crime." That obviously poses quite a problem for missionaries to China.

Now, I believe very strongly that salvation is so much more than forgiveness from sin to avoid Hell. I believe in repentance, that we as Christians must turn away from our sin and toward God. Sin is anything that separates us from God.

All sin is of equal weight. "For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. For he who said, 'Do not commit adultery,' also said, 'Do not murder.' If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder you have become a lawbreaker." - James 2:10-11 The sin James is referencing before these verses is favoritism. It’s a lifestyle sin!

Jesus spoke out strongly against sin. He told those listening that if their right arm sins they should tear it off. Because it is better to have one arm while in Heaven than to be whole and in Hell. He tells them the same for an errant eye. Now, I have no Christian friends who take these words literally. That or my Biblical-literalist friends are doing much better than I at avoiding sin. In the sermon on the mount Jesus singles out murder and adultery. He says that if you even hate someone you are guilty of murder and that if you even lust after someone you have committed adultery in your heart.

Jesus spoke out strongly against sin. This is an undeniable fact. Now, how we as Christians choose to deal with this is another thing. I have Christian friends on all ends of the spectrum. I know one boy who is so terrified of his sin that he spends all of his energy fighting off his sinful thoughts and actions. He has no time or energy left to love God or love others. I have friends who are "F-ing Christians." I can do whatever I want because I'm a Christian. I'm sometimes mistakenly put in this group by others. I have one friend, who under the realization that she couldn't live out every tenant of the Christian faith, left the faith crushed under the yoke we supplied.

When Jesus offers the lowest and the least a chance at redemption he says, Follow me for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. In the Jewish faith, a yoke refers to the total sum of a Rabbi's teaching. Jesus blasted the Pharisees for giving a yoke that weighed down their followers - and promised his own followers an easy yoke.

This doesn't jive well with a literal understanding of some of the things Jesus has said about sin. What is easy about - even lusting after someone you have committed adultery in your heart? What is light about tearing off limbs that offend? Jews were obsessed with the idea of being sinless. The Pharisees showed all trappings of sinlessness. Jesus called them white-washed tombs and compared them to a cup that has been washed on the outside, but is moldy and gross on the inside.

I hold to the belief that Jesus spoke of sin - and avoiding sin - in a highly sarcastic manner. That in essence he conceded that a person could make it to heaven without Jesus by being sinless ... and then he gave examples of what that would look like. Incredible, impossible examples. Jesus lived a different life, showed a better way, and offered a new hope.

"Excuse me for having major flaws that I refuse to work on!" - Homer Simpson

I'm going through older posts - specifically those that I wrote and chose not to publish. It's an interesting exercise - to read the private thoughts that I, at least for a few fleeting moments, considered appropriate to share with the world.

There are several posts that I wish I possessed the bravery to make public, and I keep them as drafts - that some day with Christ's help I will be able to be truly open and honest about all of my convictions with all of the world.

I think the French are best at this.

We're going to find a solution.

I'm currently enrolled in a class on Social Movements. How do they happen, what makes a social movement, how do we change things? As a future missionary this class has had so much influence on me.

I'm sure this entry from the French Postsecret is about love, a relationship, or at the very least a shared carnal desire.

But the idea of finding a solution is such a huge force in my life at the moment. This class (along with my other classes, my current circle of friends/influence, and my increasingly youthful/idealistic/naive worldview) has really got me thinking about the big questions about missions.

What would it take for Christianity to become a social movement in Europe? In Russia? In the world?

We're going to find a solution.

This morning I served communion during the traditional worship service at Toccoa First United Methodist Church. Our children's pastor, Shelley Martin, preached a great sermon. Shelley is in her early thirties. It is a refreshing morning when I can hear someone from my generation preach in a United Methodist Church.

Shelley spoke on the need for our church to let go and be broken for God. She referenced the fact that we only added one new member by confession of faith last year. Something inside my spirit dies when I hear news like this. Toccoa First is largely heralded as a model for other county-seat UMCs in the south.

Shelley stepped on toes, got into the Bible, and preached a message that demanded a response. We served communion following the message. The participants included two fifth graders, two college kids, Shelley in her thirties, the Youth pastor Bill in his forties, the associate pastor in his fifties, and a couple from church in their sixties. It was beautiful to see servants of God from every age bracket celebrating the great gift of God this day. Bill and I served communion to at least three people over the age of ninety.

Our new clergy team has brought a renewed and refreshed spirit to our congregation. There is a great sense of peace and calm which was missing until recently. However, our numbers are down. Dr. Ken, our senior pastor, has been preaching the gospel - that people need to give their hearts to Christ, that those who have given their hearts to Christ need to lead new and transformed lives, and that leading these lives will propel us outside the walls of the church. He has preached on racial reconciliation, acceptance, and keeping open doors to everyone in the community.

Last week Dr. Ken spoke about a friend who suddenly left one of the largest churches in the south east. A drunk man had stumbled to the front doors of his church and pleaded that he needed to know God. The ushers denied the man entrance, telling him that he needed to sober up before he could come into church. The drunk man drove away and died in a car crash two blocks away. The pastor of the church resigned the following week. He could no longer serve a church that refused Christ to those who need him most.

For me personally, the saddest aspect of this story is that it could happen here. That scene could be played out on any Sunday morning on the front steps of our church. I'm making a prediction, one that I pray will come true.

I predict that over the next four months our numbers will fall dramatically before climbing drastically. I think that in the next few months Dr. Ken, and Pastors Tom, Bill, and Shelley will open our church doors to the lowest and least - and that not a few of our society ladies and moneyed gentlemen will find their way to a church more suited to their vast pocketbooks. But that the Spirit of God will prevail I have little doubt.

It's so exciting to just wait for the Holy Spirit to bust down the doors of a church.

I've had a very good week as far as ministry is concerned.

On Sunday I gave a mission presentation to my Sunday School class. It's so easy for a missionary presentation to become so fake and so phony. Just the ersatz smile and a video projector flashing images of third-world normality to a sea of gazing eyes - shocked and bewildered that the heathen-savages could live in such squalid surroundings. This was totally different. The people were my friends - who have supported me through thick and thin - who know my many faults and weaknesses and who love me anyway. I showed seven pictures and talked for 45 minutes. I told stories about dear friends ministering in Russia. Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at one point, I was explaining that in Russia the church is seen as a sect and that becoming a Christian is anti-authority - that the Christians in Russia are the rebels. One man piped up, "You fit in just fine then didn't you." It is enjoyable to share the successes and failures of my time overseas with such a close-knit audience.

I taught my small group this morning and gave my testimony at a men's hall prayer meeting tonight. Both were spontaneous and both went well. I'm beginning to connect the bigger picture and to believe that I am gifted for teaching ministries. It's been a very encouraging week.

On this Sunday I will be helping with communion. It's always a privilege and an honor to serve God in the small insignificant moments in life; praying that for just one person that moment would become large and of utmost significance in their life.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday - Dahmer's Salvation

I was reading an article on the conversion of Jeffrey Dahmer, who became a Christian through the ministry of a certain Rev. Ratcliff after Dahmer's father sent him evangelical literature:

"Yet the tenets of his faith do allow for someone to be washed clean in the eyes of God once faith has been proclaimed. No matter who might criticize this, Ratcliff is following what he genuinely believes. ...Throughout Dahmer's lifetime, he was an accomplished liar, and there's no indication in his discussions with Ratcliff that he has arrived at any profound insight about what he did. The appearance is this: Dahmer killed seventeen young men, kept body parts around, cannibalized human remains, and enjoyed sexually violating the dead. He deprived these victims of their lives. He deprived families of their loved ones. And with baptism, he learns, he can undo all of that and still get to heaven. What a deal!"

What a deal, indeed.

Now, the conversion of Jeffrey Dahmer is quite a scandal for a number of reasons.

First, we wish for all the world that someone as sick and twisted as Jeffrey Dahmer lives on a different plane from us, a different planet than the human race, and a with a different set of rules governing salvation and spiritual experience. We are angered when movies try to humanize Hitler. When the Biopic on Dahmer's life aired in the city that suffered under his murders, the people rioted because it "humanized" him too much. What does that mean?

Second, the argument has been advanced, and history has shown, that if a serial-killer is convinced of the depravity of his own deeds and brought to the realization of what he actually accomplished he will invariably kill himself. Given the counceling required to show them the immensity of their crimes they will kill themselves.

So, if Dahmer really and truly repented of his sins he either didn't fully understand what he had done or he had the fullest understanding of grace any Christian has ever understood. I don't question other people's salvation. I make it a practice to take people at face value when it comes to their personal faith experience. So I believe Dahmer. I believe that Dahmer is in heaven now.

This is a paradox of the Christian faith that I love. Terrible, terrible people end up in heaven thanks to a last minute prayer while wonderful, lovely people end up in hell because they refuse to believe. Now, this is a paradox, a theological stumbling block that most liberals can't abide with - and I have my own issues (namely what of those who have never heard, sincere members of other faiths, etc) to be sure- but I think this paradox is central to my understanding of the Christian faith.

It's not about me. It's not about the good things I have done, the bad things I have done, it's about God's grace. It's about the offer and the acceptance. Surrender, lordship, discipleship. Faith, hope, and love.

It's about all of these noun/verb/adjectives. It's a paradox, a struggle, a faith.

The Slate 60

Leona Helmsley might possibly qualify as the worst rich person in the world. Leona died at the tender age of 87 this year, and managed to make the Slate 60. She left $12 million to her dog and refused any money to two of her grandchildren. She left the bulk of her estate ($5-8 billion) to the charity she and her husband founded. The main recipients of the charity? Dogs. She has requested (but with no legally binding action) that the money go to help dogs.



She also left her private chauffeur $100,000. Which is nice, kind of.



In contrast Michael Bloomberg has been in the top 10 list of the Slate 60 for the last few years (and possibly longer, I'm a little lazy and only checked back 4 years) and gives to a number of charities. One year he gave to 995 different charities.


Slate recently posted a list of the biggest charitable contributions of the year.

He has given anonymous gifts of 5-20 million each year to an arts fund in NYC. He is truly a great philanthropist. I wish that more billionaires were like him.

Goodmorning starshine, the earth says, "Hello!"

I'm in a constant state of flux. I don't know what I am. It's all relative. I go to Toccoa Falls, so here:



But I feel that when I leave here, because I was here:



That's fundamentalist, for anyone who isn't comfortable with things the youth say. I also have one that is what I want in life, but it also holds me back or scares people away. Sometimes when I say it I blush just a little:



When I was in Middle School I got one a lot that I don't hear anymore. I know it's still true, but I think that grown up people are just a little nicer than little kid people:



These labels don't mean anything, I think they never did. Somedays we base our lives, our truth, our hopes on silly stickers that say Hello. We question if we do belong, or if we ever did. Some we refuse, or try to hide. Others we strive for. But theses labels don't mean anything, I think they never have.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I’ve fallen out of line with the current trends. I don’t know any of the artists on the top iTunes list. I only know the people in 3 of the posters at the Wal-mart poster display. I haven’t had a car with tricked out rims roll up beside me with a recognizable tune blaring in … ever … in ever.

Now, I’ve never been cool. And I accept that fact, but I’ve never felt how “un-cool” I really am. The kids in my youth group like me specifically for this reason. I am so unfathomably un-cool, that I swing around to the other end of the cool-meter and end up on the cool side. It’s a happy accident that I take full advantage of.

I belong to a denomination that is fighting the battle of cool. The United Methodist church follows Jesus the Christ who lived on earth until about 1,975 years ago. We also form our theology around the thoughts of a man who turned 300 a few years ago, John Wesley. We are painfully un-cool. For a quick example, a recent news article on umc.org was titled Bish Schna Z raps with UM bloggers. I’m not kidding. God, I wish I was kidding.

At least blogging is a start. Bishop Will Willimon blogs and maintains a pod cast - that's vital for anyone who counts reaching youth and young adults with the Gospel.

A number of pastors and seminary students keep regular theological blogs. I enjoy this one.

For a really special look into how un-cool the UMC is, take a quick trip to the United Methodist Church's Board of Communication. This site is almost impossible to use and communicates NOTHING about the UMC. I just think that we can do better.

I think that it should be added to the process of becoming an ordained minister that you must post to a blog once a week.

So many of our church meetings could be done by keeping a community message board active.

We could expand the Sunday morning service experience by posting the scripture and a few questions on a blog the monday before the sermon.

With the internet we could engage a whole new generation. We could wildly improve the results of giving to the advance by creating a site similar to Kiva (which I wrote about earlier) to show people exactly what their second mile giving is accomplishing.

If we adopted a similar system for the Russian church we could challenge the Russian churches to show exactly what they need money for instead of just throwing money at them and hoping for the best.

We could text message scripture throughout the sermon to those with cell-phones (on vibrate) instead of making people pick up clunky old books to read the scripture before the sermon.

We are teaching the most relevant message in the world ... all I'm asking is why we can't teach it in a relevant fashion.

Today is a proud day for America. A day that will not soon be forgotten, from which much change will stem. Today the American people proved that we are capable of overcoming hatred, that injustice is not a sustainable lifestyle, and that our hearts and minds can be won by a voice of truth in the midst of dark,dulcimer tones.

That morality is more than hot-button issues draped in American flags, is a fact that took us too long to realize; and one that needs our continued attention. Morality is about people living in peace with their God and with each other, and while those tender topics we trade back and forth have a place in that equation, today's moral victory shouts in praise where they have merely whispered common gossip.



When Martin Luther King Jr. was martyred, my parents were 13. At 54 they witnessed MLK's greatest legacy, the swearing in of Barack Obama. We have a holiday, a stamp, a few elementary schools, and a few museums to honor the work of Dr. King. This day, we add a president to that list. Thank you Dr. King, and may your life and death remind us that we have so much more to fight for.

So many more unalienable rights that we crush with our desire for exclusion and supremacy. In my little corner of the deep south, racism still lingers below the surface - glaring its ugly head less and less as each year passes. Barack Obama was six years old when Dr. King was murdered. I pray fervently for the number of six year olds who today witnessed this great redemption for that crime. I pray that they may also dare to dream.

I have written the Theological Thoughts for Thursday section of my blog through the month of February. Including a 3 part study on sin. Enjoy. - Michael.

I recently went to the Shakespeare Tavern in Atlanta, GA. We watched Doctor Faustus performed by two players. The theatre is designed as a dinner hall, and during small plays people are seated on the stage. We happened to be seated in the balcony, directly behind the crucifix that Doctor Faustus talked to throughout the play. Every time he mocked Christ, begged for His mercy, or referenced God he stared straight at us. He looked directly into my eyes and pleaded for Christ to show him mercy.

The play is a masterful look into the lostness of man and a gut-wrenching view of the depravity behind the choice to follow our sin instead of God.

On a less cultured, classy, and theological note; I saw The Unborn recently. Great movie! Just an wonderful piece of trash to enjoy in a packed theatre. After the movie I convinced everyone to go to Arby’s (which is a usual occurrence after theatre for my group of friends.) It was a less than stellar conversation. We moved seamlessly from discussing the hot butt of the actress in the horror film into the deep theological arguments for and against demon possession of Christians. If you go to the wikipedia site I linked to, you can view the actresses but, it was aparently THE selling point of the movie.) Sometimes I’m more than a little embarrassed at the caliber of conversation that surrounds me.

I recently joined an Internet site. Kiva is a micro-credit lending institution that connects individuals from around the world to individuals in the emerging world to become a small part of a micro-credit process. I'm still deciding what my first investment should be, but how it works is you look over the profiles of people looking to start new businesses and give $25 toward a loan for that individual. There isn't any interest for the mini-lender, but you are repaid (most of the organizations Kiva works with have almost no loan default) and you get to help an impoverished person or community work out of poverty.



It's a great model, first popularized by Muhammed Yunis who was the 2006 Nobel Peace Laureate. It's a great idea ... if you would like to join, just leave a comment or send me an e-mail and I will send you an invitation.

Theological Thought for Thursday

Bishop Will Willimon keeps a blog and a podcast. For a major leader in a denomination that is trying to win the hearts and minds of a new generation this is wildly important.

One of his podcasts was entitled, "The best little whore house in Jericho." He told the story of Rahab (Joshua Chapters 2&6). Rahab was a prostitute. This would be enough information to eject her from any pew in America, but the story continues. Rahab lied to help the enemies of her country gain access to the walled city. This would never recieve a Bush pardon. But God spared Rahab's life and the lives of her whole family and God blessed them.

Bishop Willimon used this text for a sermon on All Saints' day. This prostitute does little to conjure up the images we hold most dear of "saint." We sometimes jokingly refer to my mother as "Saint Debbie the Meek," because she fits the bill of sainthood. Dorothy Day once said, " Don't call me a saint. I don't want to be dismissed so easily."

I am not a saint. No one has confused me for a saint in at least three years. I cuss; I enjoy good food, good friends, and a good time more than I should; and I laugh a little too loud for polite conversation. I hold no trappings of sainthood and yet I love God with all of my heart. I pray, and read my Bible, and hold others accountable. I love God and love people fiercely and publicly confess and claim my sins. I make friends with nobodies and encourage those who could change the world to change their lives.

I once thought that being a good Christian meant smiling a lot. When I went to Russia, I realized that in Moscow smiling a lot meant you were an idiot. My whole concept of the Christian faith had to change to survive. Five Iron Frenzy sang, "I don't listen well, don't smile enough." There is more to Christianity.

I don't want others to see Christ in me because of my T-shirt, my bumpersticker, or my absence of social faux-pas. I don't want nice church ladies to say I'm a good Christian because I have all the right friends and proper clothes. I want my alcoholic friend to tell me that I'm different. That Christ would shine through my actions, my words, my mistakes, and my life. That no one would ever confuse me with a good little church boy, but that others may see Christ's love in my life.

I just finished Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. Outliers aims to prove that being truly great doesn’t depend on IQ or ability level, but rather a myriad of factors including dumb luck, upbringing, and ancestries stretching hundreds of years. He uses data to show that lower-income children only learn less than upper-income children because of summer vacation. He proves odd and random facts, and lines up family histories for generations to show how many factors had to fall into place for any one person to become who they are – and how we can change things to create more opportunities for more children to make more truly successful people. An interesting read, but one that has the potential to change the world if we truly took its message to heart.

In one section he discussed the role that parenting plays in a child’s upbringing. On the way to the doctor the wealthy mother asks her son if he has any questions to ask the doctor. She encourages him to ask the doctor the questions he comes up with. She gives him a sense of entitlement. Few of the lower-income children’s parents encourage them to question the doctor, to speak up for themselves, or to interrupt an adult.

I realize, that although I come from a lower-income household, our mother always taught us that we were entitled to the best the world has to offer. Our mother taught Rebecca and I that if we were doing good, people would want to help. I had no qualm about raising money to do mission work. I knew I wanted to be an exchange student and I just did it. I fundraised the money and got my shots and filled out all of the paperwork. The year I was an exchange student; 10,000 Russian high school students spent the semester in America – 10 Americans spent the semester in Russia. The last academic exchange student we sent from my high school was in the early 70s and she had to be sent home early after being beaten by her host family and hospitalized for organ damage. I decided I would do it ... and I did it.

When I wanted to move off campus, I knew I would move off campus. If they wouldn't let me off for medical reasons I would have married a girl who also wanted off campus. The first time I saw my house I knew I would live there. I was the youngest student living off campus when I first recieved permission. I had been rejected on three levels and my last course was to go directly to the board of trustees. I began looking up bios of the trustees to see with whom I could naturally connect.

I'm in the application process to be a GBGM missionary. I spent a little time on the GBGM website looking through the missionary biographies. I realize that I don't look much like most of the missionaries. Most have a masters, the youngest missionaries I could find were in their thirties. Most were old men and women who had served their time in the states. But, I know that this is where God is calling me. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to be a GBGM missionary.

I love this particular postsecret, because I identify in so many ways. That tremendous feeling of being ready to go, keys in the ignition, a destination on the brain - and no idea what roads will end up being the right ones. It's a thrill of a journey, and I'm ready.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

Umc.org recently ran a profile of Tina Luce. She is the minister of music at a United Methodist church in Salem, MA. She was born blind. Her main quote in the article is, "I tend to trust people who minister with a limp more than those who don’t." I couldn’t agree more.

My cat has a broken tail. A previous owner accidentally slammed its tail in a car door, and promptly took her to the SPCA. He wouldn’t keep a cat with such an obvious deformity. People ask one of two questions when they are introduced to Vassya. Some ask, “How did he brake his tail?” Others ask, “How did his tail get that cute little curly-Q?” Vassya almost always relates better to those who notice his cute curly-Q of a tail than those who notice his imperfections.

Ministering with a limp involves the disabled, but it goes far beyond that. I minister with a limp. My sister ministers with a limp. Sometimes we tell the other stories of how God is using us, and the tone we use conveys nothing short of awe and amazement. There is no pride, no selfishness, no arrogance in our voice. There is shock – God still chooses to use us! To use our limp in ministry.

When Rebecca was living in Erie she attended Erie first. She called me one day to share the amazing news that God had used her to lead a youth to Christ. I’ve heard these stories before – the hook, the sink, the closer, and the prayer; all shared with a smug sense of self satisfaction. This story was different. Rebecca was crying, she didn’t really know what had happened, she was talking to this kid and then she was praying with him, and she was confused and, and, and, behind it all ran this sense of unworthiness. That God would take her from where she had been in the not-so-distant past to the place of changing a person’s life for the better ran contrary to everything she knew.

“I tend to trust people who minister with a limp more than those who don’t.” God rewards holiness, as God shows us time and again in the Bible. But God also blindsides us with radical grace and trust – as God shows us time and again in the Bible and in our own experience – using us, our limp, our tiny faith in ways we could never imagine.

I had a completely unproductive day. I accomplished nothing. I could have slept until this moment with equal result. However, I have posted every day for almost a week, so I'm going to post today.

I'm starting a new feature for my blog. Theological Thoughts for Thursday, is a hope-filled promise that I will try to upload something somewhat deep and Theologically meaningful every Thursday.

So, keep me accountable and we'll see how I do. - Michael Airgood.

I saw a woman wearing a Kwanzaa hat. Wikipedia calls it a Kufi. Which is fun. Kwanzaa ended almost a week ago, but the joy of the season still lingers. Wikipedia also begins a paragraph on the Kwanzaa page with "In George W. Bush's 2004 Kwanzaa speech ..." which is also fun.

I was at Shirley's Sole Food Cafe, which is a magical place of feasting delight. I'm pretty sure that Shirley doesn't celebrate Kwanzaa. That wouldn't be her style. Shirley was one of the first black children to go to the elementary school I work at; when they first started integrating the schools in Georgia.

She owns the best place to eat in town, and she also runs a mens and women's homeless shelter. She's a devout Christian who lives her faith out loud. I support her in all of her ministries, but, to me, her biggest ministries is looking across the counter at some of the most racist people and serving them with a smile.

"And they will ask, when did we see you hungry and feed you?"

22nd Birthday.

It's like milestone week around here. I turned 22 today. I went out for steak with Jacob, Sammy Ray, and Fabiola. It was wonderful.

400th Post

Sometimes Christians are derided for simplifying the Gospel message to "nothing more than love." But, in my opinion the Gospel message is nothing more than love. Love for God, for others, for enemies, for the least and the lost. Love is all you need, or so I've been told. And if it's wrong then Lennon lied to me.

So, here are a few thoughts on love that I find relevant. I can't imagine anything more appropriate to celebrate my 400th post than a celebration of what it's all about!

"I don't mind waiting in line
no, no
I don't mind if the bills pile up and the work is slow
I don't mind the gas or the groceries or the drive
gone inside with you I'm having a good time

I don't mind the stoner waiter or the poorly cooked food
I don't mind little miss kitty or her knucklehead dude
I don't mind if every last person here is ugly and rude
long as I'm with you I got a good attitude
long as I'm with you

We could be stuck in traffic for over a week
with a car full of quintuplets who are all cutting teeth
and around my neck could be a flaming Christmas wreath
and I'd be smiling under
smiling underneath

I don't mind waking up early for a flight that's delayed
I don't mind our weeks vacation was chilly and gray
I don't mind the traffic cops or the TSA
long as I'm with you I'm having a good day
long as I'm with you

I don't mind spilling my hot sauce on my white shirt
I don't mind that twinge when I walk in that knee that I hurt
I don't mind my gums peeling back or my hair getting thin
long as I'm with you, I win
long as I'm with you

We could be stuck in traffic for over a week
with a car full of Quintuplets who are all cutting teeth
and around my neck could be a flaming Christmas wreath
and I'd be smiling under
smiling under
smiling underneath"

- Smiling Underneath by Ani Difranco


"If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
Love never dies"

1 Corinthians 13 The Message

"We can live without sex, but we cannot live without love." - Dorothy Day


"I am not sure exactly what heaven will be like, but I do know that when we die and it comes time for God to judge us, He will not ask, "How many good things have you done in your life?," rather He will ask, "How much love did you put into what you did?" ... "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." ... "I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love." - Mother Teresa

I've been watching a non-stop marathon of Family Guy while I clean my house. My house is mostly clean, which is good because I'm most of the way through all 5 seasons that I own. I don't understand why some people don't like this show.

OK, I guess I do understand. In this episode, the Griffin family is staying in a hotel. Peter picks up the Bible and says mockingly, "Hey, look at me. I'm a Christian. I read the Bible."

Now, I understand why people would be offended by this, really I do. But, I think that Christians need to be able to laugh at ourselves. I really think we would all be much happier if we all just took a few minutes to find something to laugh about at our own church or in our own Christian experience.

Maybe it's a showerhead shaped pulpit. (Ok, I tried to find an image of this on the internet for about 15 minutes ... and am utterly shocked that no one has posted a picture of this thing on-line yet. Hopefully Bill will read this and post a pic on his site.)

Most days I think that if I can't laugh at how we live out our Christian faith that I will just collapse under the institution. But, as I find more and more things to laugh at, I also find more reasons for hope.

Like the words spoken beneath the showerhead shaped pulpit.

postsecret.blogspot.com

I think this is my favorite. Ever.

It's another year and I'm dangerously close to my 400th blog. I decided to celebrate by giving my blog a new look. I've also added ads at the very bottom of the page ... so, feel free as I earn revenue. Ha ha.

My birthday is coming up in a few days. I'm excited to be another year older. I start classes in a few weeks, and I'm a little nervous about that. My last semester should be just fine.

I'm back in Georgia, and glad to be home. I have a few days to get my life in order before all of my friends come back.

I need to pick out 3 celebrities who I think will die this year. It's a game we play every new year, and I have lost every year. I guess I'm just bad at it. I guess there are worse things to be bad at!

3rd Person Christmas Letter

Michael Airgood has had a very good year. He had a good spring semester in 2008. His sister, Rebecca, moved to Georgia for six weeks and lived with him while she was an intern with a gynocologist in Toccoa. It was a lot of fun for him to have his sister for the few short weeks she was there. He passed his only required math class with an A-. It was a miracle.

He completed his internship to Russia during the summer. It was a wonderful time and he learned a lot. To read more about his summer go to michaelairgood.blogspot.com. He is in the application process to be a full time career missionary with the General Board of Global Ministries.

His fall semester in 2008 was a little rocky. He was sick for some time and had many doctors' appointments. Perhaps he just can't go too many months without getting sick. He finished a 30 page senior paper and is preparing for a semester long group project.

His sister got married two days after Christmas. She and her husband, Mike Miller, and very happy together. Michael has one semester left at Toccoa Falls College.

Love, Michael Airgood.

I had somewhat of a reunion. I went out to a party and most of my graduating class was there. It was good to see old friends, and people who weren't friends then but could be now. It was good to hear where people are, what they are doing these days, and where they are heading next.

Most of my friends are at about the same place; graduating soon, no clear plans for the future, and a little nervous! It's a good place to be in life. It's fun because you know that no one will let you fall too low at this point! Even if I don't get my dream job, someone will find me something at a factory somewhere to tide me over for a season!

I'm in the application process with the General Board of Global Ministries, the United Methodist Mission Agency. I've had a phone interview with my conference committee on mission personel. They recomended me to the GBGM, which is the first big hurdle. The GBGM website says that they keep ACTIVE files open for 3 years! Yikes! I can't imagine waiting for 3 years to hear from them. Then, after I get selected for an assignment I have to pass all of the medical/psychological exams!

I've applied for a job at a church camp for the summer, and I'm looking into a few more ministry type jobs to hold me over during the application process. So, that's where I'm at.

My sister and I read the Gospel lesson for the family service on Christmas eve. Rebecca cried. Rebecca is getting married in two days, so she cries at the drop of a hat, but this was a special cry for a special event. We shared this special story with our congregation because this is a story we share daily with each other and hopefully with the world.

I've been spending time with my best guy friend from High School, Josh. Josh is a carny. He was featured on the news in West Virginia once when they interviewed people about the carnival. He's a bartender during the winter months. When I want to go visit Josh I have to walk into the bar - the sleaziest bar in my hometown - a verboten act of a good Christian boy from a small town.

On Christmas Eve I sang three solos at the Episcopal church. Then I walked to the local bar to invite Josh out to dinner the next night. Then I left the bar and walked to the United Methodist Church where I read the Gospel Lesson. Now, those who heard me sing and read at churches saw the good Christian boy I am. And those who saw me exit the bar on Christmas Eve must have seen something very different. Those who saw me leave the bar, if they even took the time to make an accurate identification, would have seen a very bad boy. Because, what kind of alcoholic, backsliding heathen needs to drink on Christmas Eve?

This is a story we share daily. There's a lot to be found in the birth story. We read it with a hint of sadness, we're so sad that Jesus was born in a filthy stable. But I don't' think the story could work any other way. Mary wasn't turned away from all the inns because they were full - Mary was turned away from all the inns because she was an unwed teenage mother. The people are called back to their hometowns to be registered, and who wants to throw up a sign that reads "This is my family - we are WhiteTrash!" Your long lost cousin comes back to town and he brings his whore of a girlfriend. What kind of good Jewish man brings his pregger, whore girlfriend with him to his hometown?

I don't think the story could work any other way. The angels appear to the shepherds - the lowest of the low in a city that doesn't start out all that high. Jesus is born in a filthy barn.

Pastor David preached on the difference between celebrating Christmas as a day and celebrating Christmas as a lifestyle. Christmas day celebrates like the magi. Gifts, glitter, tinsel a one time occurrence that doesn't change much and doesn't last long. Christmas lifestyle is lived out like the shepherds. When you live for Jesus you will be called to stinking stables and you will meet the lowest of the low. Most days you will have nothing to give, and this has been the hardest lesson for me to learn.

People see the good Christian boy singing in church and reading the eloquent story. People want to see those things. Jesus sees the hurting and broken people. Jesus wants us to see them too. Jesus wants us to share this special story with them.

I'm a stubborn person. I inherited my stubbornness from both sides of the family.

My mother's parents are so stubborn that when grandpa wanted to drive up to Pennsylvania and grandma didn't want to make the trip grandpa drove himself up to Pennsylvania and left grandma alone on her 79th birthday ... less than a year after having a massive aneurysm.

My dad's side of the family is infamous for its stubborn streak. I would choose not to share most stories because, frankly, they are embarrassing. Stubbornness isn't always so cute.

I find that nothing brings out stubbornness more than being surrounded by other stubborn people. I've been home for a little more than a week, and already my stubborn spirit is getting out of hand. I don't think I could last much longer here. I kind of wonder how I survived here so long. How I thrived in this environment.

It's been a long week. Rebecca is getting married two days after Christmas. She had her gallbladder removed on Thursday. It hasn't been easy.

It has been fun taking care of Rebecca. We've been watching a lot of television and a few good movies. We are watching Silence of the Lambs ... possible the best scary movie ever made.

I'm forming some ideas for an article about postmodern faith. I'll post it here. I will also post my Christmas letter written in 3rd person. I love Christmas traditions.

I was spending some time with a friend and her family. Crystal is in her forties, and has been a friend since I started Middle School. Crystal asked me to clarify the Christian and Missionary Alliance position on the end times.

Now, this is something I should know. I attend a C&MA school and have passed all of my Bible classes. I remember learning this material. But, I have intentionally not retained it. I received a really poor grade on a theological paper for responding, “I couldn’t care less!” to a question about my theological belief about the timing of Christ’s return.

I couldn’t care less. I honestly doubt that I could care less even if I tried. I think my views would be pretty accurate for my generation. “It’s a mystery, we live in the tension, God knows not I.” All of these answers make significantly more sense to me and my generation than “Amillennial, pre-millennial, or postmillennial” will ever make.

There is a large framed painting in a Sunday School classroom at Toccoa First UMC. It was hung in the mid-fifties. It shows the progression of time from Creation to Revelation. Every year is mapped out in perfect detail, every line is clear-cut, there is no room for gray areas. I have a pretty good guess of which older adult in my church bought and hung this particular painting. I can see his long fingers gently leveling the wide-framed picture, and his thin wiry frame stepping back and sighing in satisfaction. A place for everything and everything in its place.

I spent an hour staring at this picture once. Nothing could have been less relevant to a mind of my generation. I finally made the executive decision to remove the chart from the room that was serving young adults and to place it in an older adult Sunday School classroom. My generation is all about the gray areas, the smudged lines, and the Big Picture that eschatological theology so often clouds or misses altogether.

The Epic Fail and “Marrow” by Ani Difranco

To have sinned so strongly against my own moral conscience hurts so deeply. To have realized the painful disgrace long before the actual sin took place and to have done it anyways offends even me. I wonder how God puts up with this sinful heart. This heart that would make a conscious choice to abandon everything it believes and follow the flesh.

“The answer came like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
Which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question.
Plus, you weren't listening
You were stockpiling canned goods
making a bomb shelter of our basement.
And I can't believe you let the moral go by while you were soaking in the product placement.
And where was your conscience?
Where was your consciousness?
And where did you put all those letters that you wrote to yourself but could not address?”

Paul addresses sin. He talks about the flesh. He says that he knows what he does is wrong but that he does it anyway. And, we read these verses in church, and we gloss over the reality of his sin. Because I read those verses often and I find no redemption in them. I see the promise of redemption – but I get something so different than those around me when we read those passages. Surely those around me resonate with his cry of pain and inadequacy. Surely others understand Paul’s surrender to his flesh – others see their own copouts in his words.

“There's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
The whole childhood of potions that are all bottled up
And so one by one I am dusting off labels
I am uncorking bottles and filling up cups.
So go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and I'll have a taste of mine
But first let's toast to the lists that we hold in our fists of the things
That we promised to do differently next time.”

And my soul fails to magnify the Lord. We learned about Mary’s hymn of praise in church on Sunday. Her response to the unusual news was “my soul magnifies the Lord.” We have her hymn. Why don’t we sing the hymn of despondency that David wrote after the Bathsheba incident. Although, I guess I should be glad that David’s infidelity made it into the narrative at all. My soul, oh, my soul fails to magnify the Lord.

“Cause the answer came like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question.
Cause I'm not listening to you anymore.
My head is too sore and my heart's perforated
And I am mired in the marrow of my "well ain't that funny?" bone
Learning how to be alone and devastated.“

I feel that my willpower is too weak and my understanding of grace too small to live out the faith I so deeply love. I feel that I don’t even know myself – or that I know myself too well and don’t want to admit it.

“and Where was my conscience?
Where was my consciousness?
And what do I do with all these letters that I wrote to myself but can not address?”

I am finished with my senior paper.

I took my first final last monday ... I passed the class with a 96%

I have less than stellar grades in everything else.

I am reckless.

We are having our final Frosty Joe's (our coffee shop) of the semester - a white elephant gift exchange/open mic night.

I'm ready for a little bit of vacation time!

Rebecca is getting married in less than a month!

I used my warming tray for the last time today!

I plan on blogging during finals week.

And I’m sorry, too.

Some days it's hard to belong to a church that looks so little like Jesus.

When United Methodist read the liturgy before communion, we use a collective prayer of repentance. We pray:

“Merciful God,
We confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart.
We have failed to be an obedient church.
We have not done your will,
We have broken your law,
We have rebelled against your love,
We have not loved our neighbors,
And we have not heard the cry of the needy.
Forgive us we pray.
Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

I wish that every church could read and live by those words each week.

Philippians 2:5-11 reads,
"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

When we depict the crucifixion scene, Jesus is drawn in the center of two criminals high on the hill. His cross is larger than the other two and it is usually shiny. This much we take for granted. Of course Jesus' cross would be shiny - He is God.

... but he made himself nothing ...

He failed to hold tight to his equality with God, and chose instead to find equality with sinners. With us. With pedophiles and gossips.

I'm so quick to get on my high horse. "I'm going to be a missionary." I tell people. I grasp for my equality with God and fail to hold tight to my equality with sinners.

And so does the rest of the church. We as one body, fail to hold tight to our equality with those most affected by Prop 8. We have failed to be an obedient church. We have not done your will.

Merciful Heavenly Father, forgive me for failing to love my neighbor. For fearing the sins of others more than your anger and sadness over my own sins. Forgive me for failing to reach out to those who need your peace this day - who need to know that the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes is still relevant and is still the King. Forgive me and my damn high horse. Help me off of it. Help me to learn to humble myself - even when it hurts - so that I may truly love others more than myself.

Amen.

I put my ipod on shuffle as I drove down to Florida. I realized that with little error my ipod contains the sum of my theology. Not textbook could ever hold all the religious views, opinions, thoughts, and ideas I hold ... but somehow the works of Ani Difranco, the podcasting of Bishop Will Willimon, a who's who of contemporary Christian singers circa 2003, and Rent! combine to flesh out my whole theology.

I wonder if this is true for everyone.

Church should be fun.

Church should be a good time to reconnect with friends and to celebrate the resurrection in our lives. I've had the honor and privilege of seeing more than a dozen adults become members of United Methodist congregations in the last few weekends. I went home to see Kane First UMC add 11 new members, 8 by profession of faith. This last weekend my grandparents and I visited a UMC here in Pompano Beach, FL. Two young men were baptised as new believers.

It's an exciting experience to see people leave behind their former lives and follow Jesus. Church should be a weekly excersize in celebrating this. Our worship should celebrate the good news of Jesus Christ. It should connect with the people we wish to reach - with those who do not yet have a saving faith.

Un churched people have two primary points of connection with traditional worhsip. Weddings and funerals. Our traditional worship experiences should remind the unchurched of weddings they have attended in the past. Our church services should be a time of celebration. Music should rarely be categorized as a dirge. The unitiated should never feel overwhelmed because of our lack of explanation - our churches do weird things and we should explain why every week.

People should leave church with a sense of joy and peace. People should leave church having encountered the risen Christ. We as leaders in the church need to stop bemoaning the lack of excitement in worship and begin to reinstate it. Church should never be a contractual obligation - and we should mourn the fact that it became that in the 1940s and 50s not refer to that time as our "hayday."

It is infinetly better to have a small group of people genuinely worshipping than to have a large congregation dreading Sunday morning.

Evangelism should be easy.

Sharing the hope we find in the good news of Christ should be something that naturally happens. It shouldn’t take programs, conferences, pulpit prodding, or a committee. It’s something we already do every day. Evangelism is simply sharing our lives with those around us; praying that at the end of the day our lives point to Christ.

Christians get very frightened when talking about Evangelism. Visions of big-haired women and slick talking preachers dance through our minds. Evangelism becomes cumbersome and difficult when we place programs, training manuals, and rules in place. There is no magical formula for sharing our faith. The Bible never calls us to cajole people to pray the “sinners prayer.” We share a simple call to make disciples for Christ.

Evangelism looks different in every situation. Evangelism for the 70+ crowd might involve hymns and a rip-roaring sermon on sin, death, and hell. Evangelism for the college crowd might be a trip to Shirley’s and a good talk about faith and doubt.

Jesus gave us a commission, not a formula; but here are a few guidelines I’ve picked up over the years and found helpful.

1. Know your crowd – telling a pre-Christian neighbor about your faith will sound different than telling a church-raised college friend. Figure out where your audience stands …
2. Move them one step closer to God – Evangelism isn’t about getting heathens saved, its about encouraging each person you meet to move one step closer to God.
3. Trust is THE factor – yelling John 3:16 at strangers might have worked at some point, but today it fails miserably. Build relationships with friends, co-workers, and neighbors on the foundation of trust. When trusting friends realize where you place your trust they are more likely to want to learn more about your faith.
4. God does the work – We don’t convert people. We don’t save people. We help people understand their need for God. We help explain what God does in our lives.

There's a little boy that takes part in the weekly kids' ministry at my church. His name is Matthew and he loves sugar. Matthew's mom and I are friends. I don't think Matthew will ever remember my name. I share the Bible lesson every week. Every week I think, "How can I make this stick for Matthew?"

I'm teaching a lesson to my Sunday School class about leaving a legacy of generations of faith. I have a few weeks to prepare still, but I can't help but think about it now. I want to leave a legacy of faith. I want Matthew to grow up to be a great Christian man.

Bishop Schnase wrote a practical application Bible study called "5 Habits of Highly Effective Congregations." The most interesting aspect of this book is his use of quality examples from churches across the size, location, and political spectrums. He used examples of children's education at rural mountain churches and at mid sized city congregations. I'm so often overwhelmed by examples of effective ministries put on by mega churches. I'm glad that mega churches were able to allocate two clergy persons and a $10,000 budget to a new ministry ... but that doesn't help small churches in need of good ideas.

I want to be a mechanism of change. I want to work behind the scenes encouraging United Methodist congregations to use techniques that stick. Our churches should do more than entertain kids. Our churches should do A LOT MORE than bore kids. Our churches should make kids into Christian adults.

I'm filled with doubt this day. There's nothing unusual about today. It's a normal day and I'm filled with my normal doubts.

I doubt God. I doubt that God is faithful, or just, or merciful, or any of those other nickel and dime words that we don't attribute to anyone but God because they don't mean anything to us. Just like God.

I doubt my ability to overcome sin. Any sin. Not any particular sin. Or God's ability to overcome sin in my life. Or my ability to live for God with or without the sin.

I doubt that I want anything other than to be comfortable and well fed and away from pain. I doubt that I will be able to hit "Publish Post" without some redemptive ending that proves that I'm really "missionary material."

And I have a lot of things that I don't doubt. I don't doubt that doubt itself is ultimately good and healthy. I don't doubt the Christs I've seen. I don't doubt the Christ I've been. I don't doubt my salvation or my calling.

I doubt that I can every really love. I see old couples with this enduring love ... and I don't think I have what it takes to make a commitment like that.

I'm okay with the doubt. I don't see it as some albatross. There's nothing abstract or symbolic about my doubt. My doubt is as real as my faith. They are inextricably linked and I praise God for that. ... oh and there it is. I am Missionary material!

I feel that my brain is on auto-pilot. I keep doing really dumb things. Like, running into walls dumb.

I'm in limbo. In every sense of the word.

It's a little weird. There's a lot going on, but I feel a good peace around all of it.

I sent in my formal application to the General Board of Global Ministries. It's such a huge step to have the first round of paperwork finished. I'm playing the waiting game in some very significant ways. The application process takes between 6 to 9 months. It's like I'm pregnant.

I'm heading home this weekend ... which should be fun. It will be a crazy whirlwind of a weekend, not a vacation by any means!

Sorry I don't have anything important to say. I wrote a poem ... which I have considered putting it up here. I'll look at it again in a few days and see if it embarrasses me yet.

I'm proud of you for voting for John McCain. His policies line up with your own. I think with your super-strong opinion on the issue of abortion it would be morally wrong for you to vote for Obama. I know that your strong morality comes from your Christian faith.

Now I want you to be proud of me. I want you to be proud that I voted for Barack Obama. His policies line up with mine. I want you to understand that MY strong morality comes from my Christian faith as well. I know our main issues are different, but I need you to understand that Barack Obama stands for moral issues I also stand for.

I believe it is inhuman for our government to even consider torturing our prisoners of war. John McCain, who was at one point a prisoner of war and should know better, supports current methods used. I mourn the fact that I belong to a country that would use torture for any reason.

I believe this war in Iraq is unjust, unprovoked, and a moral failure of our country. John McCain would appoint men of strong military leadership who have supported this war as cabinet members. I mourn the fact that I belong to a country that could be brought to war because of fear of an invisible enemy. I mourn the fact that thousands of Americans have died in vain. I mourn the fact that many more Iraqi's have died because of my sin and the sin of others like myself who have failed to stand up to our government in the face of this unjust war.

I believe that it is morally wrong to discriminate against gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and trans gendered people. The truest expression of our faith is how we treat each other and the people around us - and I see little faith expressed towards the GLBT community. I mourn the fact that I belong to a country that allows hate-mongering to trump love and commitment in the marriage debate.

I believe that abortion is wrong. However, I believe that legislation is not the answer. Countries with no abortion rights have statistically similar levels of abortion (illegal abortion) but significantly higher levels of women dying because of failed (and successful) abortion attempts. I mourn the fact that I belong to a faith that believes the only way they can bring true change on this issue is through legislation. I believe abortion should be safe, legal, and exceedingly rare. No legislation can accomplish this ... only the love of Jesus Christ acted out in big ways can do this.

I want you to be proud of me. I want you to realize that for me, voting for John McCain would have gone against my own moral conscience. A moral conscience built by my strong Christian faith.

I'm struggling with the concept of salvation. I'm just not sure why. Here's an inside look into my thought process. You're welcome.

I realize more and more that I need a definition of salvation that goes beyond an emotional experience at summer camp. Not that my understanding of salvation is wrong, just that it is insufficient. I have a definition that works for me. I'm continually wrestling with the fact that my concept of God is always just big enough for me at this moment.

A friend confesses that he and his girlfriend are having sex and I give him directions to the health clinic. A friend loses her son to drugs and we take her out to make her feel better. I want to do more to serve the kids on campus so I serve coffee at the coffee shop … and I think that all of these things are good … but they fall far short of the good news I believe in my heart. They do little to bring salvation to the people. Perhaps they pay homage to my insufficient concept of salvation.

As a Christian I want to bring salvation to the people. I want to see people saved. But, I don’t … understand … what that … means? Or, I do, for me – but not for others. I’ll know it when I see it? Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired of the old paradigm and the social stigma surrounding the phrase "get saved." At a funeral I attended recently the pastors prayed the sinners’ prayer four times. Just to make sure that everyone in attendance was saved for sure. "In case there's one person here who has never prayed the sinner's prayer, I'm going to pray it one more time. Just pray with me ..."

I think there’s more to salvation. Or at least at some level I think there's more to salvation. I don’t want to make it more complicated or add extra steps because I don’t believe that is biblical in any way. I believe that to become a Christian you must believe in your heart and confess with your lips that Christ is Lord. I believe that is what scripture teaches. So yes, praying to ask Christ into our hearts is the only step to salvation. I'm unwilling to negotiate any further steps.

My doubt stairs me in the face when I witness. I know all of the "right" answers to all of the questions sinners have. But the pat answers fail to calm my troubled heart - and how can I in good conscience give them to others. I'm okay with my doubt. I believe it's part of my faith and a darn good part. I think I'm less concerned with my doubt and more concerned with the paradigm that salvation is a process of one person who knows all the answers telling an uninformed idiot all the right answers.

Why are most of our salvations among children and most of the salvations in the Bible among adults and families? Could it be that our current paradigm only fits telling the right answers to those who haven't found any answers for themselves?


So maybe I’m glad that the funeral attendees had four opportunities to confess with their lips … perhaps I just wish they had more incentive to believe in their hearts. I feel that heart service should happen before lip service.

I wish people wouldn't choose salvation like they were choosing a new sweater. I wish there was some level other than intellectual and emotional on which we could meet people to offer them salvation.

So ultimately I guess I wrestle with the questions, "How do I bring salvation to the people?" How do I offer peace and hope to a dying world without sounding insensitive and intolerant? How do we present the message in new ways to new hearers? How do we present the good news while allowing room for our own doubt? How do we offer salvation without starting at the conclusion that we have all the right answers?

Why do I always end up with more questions than answers?

Why don't we have any prophets? I mean, how weird would it be if someone was hired by a church to be a prophet?

There's this theory in the business world that you should hire the best and the brightest and not give them a job description. Just let them find a place.

Maybe we do have prophets ... we just don't call them as much.

The 400 Fund

Maybe we just don't give our prophets the credit they deserve.

Dr. Smith, my mentor, and I had a really good conversation on the topic of being an agent of change. He was ominous. He told me that as long as I as a Christian am an agent of change people will not like me. As long as I try and shake things up I will be in the minority. "You'll never be put in a position of power needed to actually make the change, but you will get close enough to make a difference."

I am becoming more and more convinced that serious change needs to happen in the church. I will ponder Dr. Smith's words for a long long time.

I'm enjoying my fall break. Jake Raynor and I drove down to Florida for the weekend. On Friday night we stopped in Macon to have dinner with my friend Brittany. We ended up spending a few hours there and watched the movie "Stardust." Interesting movie.

Jake dropped me off at my grandparent's house and then drove himself to his home in Orlando.

On Saturday the G-units and I went mall walking, sang hymns for several hours, did a crossword puzzle, and went to Golden Corral. Ah, retirement. I also took a two hour nap and organized grandma's coupons for her.

On Sunday we woke early and listened to Jerry Fallwell, Charles Stanley and then went to church and heard why Obama is the anti-Christ. Then we went out for lunch, sang hymns, did a crossword puzzle, and watched the ball game.

Jake picked me up and I'm at his house now. We are going to Universal in a little bit ... which couldn't hope to compare to the pure joy of doing crossword puzzles as a family sport. Haha.

I went to a funeral the other day. We were there to celebrate the life of an adult son of a co-worker of mine. Ben was a little older than me when he died. Beverly was devastated. There are certain rules and norms about behavior at a funeral or a viewing. The bereaved should be polite and formal. "Thank you for coming. Yes, he led a good life. It has been very difficult for the family. Your prayers are appreciated."

Beverly didn't follow any of the rules. She sobbed. She wept. Her whole body shook as tears rolled out of her stomach in audible gasps for air. She looked as though she would collapse from the pain of it all.

Jesus said, "Blessed are those who mourn." And, I don't get that. I don't understand it yet. I feel like I was blessed to see Beverly mourn. It was so refreshing to see someone be so real. I live in the deep south where make-up and big hair rule the land. Real tears are a scarcity. I don't understand how she was blessed, though.

Jesus said so many things that I just don't understand. And, it's not like I just don't have the proper hermeneutic or anything like that. Some of his sayings just don't jive with my life. Like, they weren't meant for me ... or more that those words were meant for someone else on this day and another day they'll be for me.

Maybe Jesus could have said that Blessed are those who get to see honesty. Or Blessed are the honest. Those would make more sense to me on this day. I guess the thing I'm learning right now is that everything doesn't have to make sense.

I come to the awkward realization that my life is less than radical. This shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. This shouldn’t be a surprise to me. I’m comfortable. I’m good. People like me. And, none of these things are bad. I’m glad that I’m a good person. I’m glad people like me. But I feel that my life is missing a certain amount of radicalism.

Now, I’m generally against radicalism. I’m terrified of fundamentalist anythings. I think that the world would be a lot better if everyone would just take one step to the left or right in the direction of center. My life would be better if I could just keep a little bit more center. My life would be easier if everyone around me could just keep a little bit more center.

I wonder some days why I’m good. John M. Patrick said, "He who remains good simply because he must serves necessity, not God." I wonder how often I hold my tongue because I must. Now, I don’t want to be bad. I want to be good. I just want to have the right motivation. I guess I’m just waiting for that proper motivation to fall into place. Am I obeying the rules because I don’t want to get kicked out? Am I being good so I don’t upset my friends?

I want to be more radical in my faith. But, I fear I don’t have many examples of truly radical faith. I have models of well-behaved obedient men and women who happen to be Christians. I have many such models. Most of the people around me follow all of the rules. My friend Janet owns a shirt that reads, “Well behaved women rarely make history.” It’s a great quote, and true of all people. I don’t think that having a radical, vibrant relationship with God is about following all the rules. I think it’s about so much more.

I just don’t know exactly what that “more” is. Well, it’s love. Or Jesus. Or grace. Or whatever buzz-word of the month I’m on. And I mean those words. And I find so much hope in those words and in exploring and trying to understand those words that are so crucial to the life of Christ. But at the end of the day I feel like little more than a nominal Christian. I love God and yet I love myself a lot, too. I want peace but I want to enjoy my sin as well. I want to offer grace but only on my conditions. I want to offer Christ to the homeless and hopeless – I just don’t want to have to smell them.

I’m a little bit stuck. Maybe a lot stuck. My faith is filled with so much doubt, and I’m surrounded by people who have all the answers … but they don’t seem any happier or better for it. I want to be happier or better for it. Whatever this “more” is, I want to be happier or better for it. I want to follow Jesus in a radical way. I’m just trying to find out what that means.

"Love is an act of endless forgiveness." — Jean Vanier…

I went and spoke at St. Paul UMC in Lincolnton, GA on Sunday. I spoke about my mission trip this summer and about community. It was a really fun experience.

I decorated my house for Halloween. I wish there was a super-spiritual meaning behind Halloween (because no one buys the "All Hallows Eve is Christian" line) so I didn't feel so bad that Halloween is probably my favorite holiday. I mean Easter. I love Easter most. I'm a good Christian.

I'm slowly realizing that it's less important what other Christians think about me and infinitely more important what the un-churched around me think. I want to live my life with more freedom and joy ... even if that does piss off a lot of Christians. I have a lot of thinking left to do on the subject. Maybe I'll blog about it.

Maybe.

I'm officially old. I was in Wal-Mart last night waiting for a perscription to be filled and I looked through the poster display. I only understood four of the posters. I didn't even know what the others were about. I didn't know any of the "musicians" and only got the Chuck Norris poster because his show is from my generation.

Yep. That's it. I'm officially old. Well, no need to trim my ear hair or try to keep riding the fashion train. I'm going to go eat some porridge or anything I can find that's a little less spicy than porridge.

Some days it feels like the world is going to collapse. Most days it doesn't. It's weird to hear all the latest talk about the current economic situation.

I think about the things that Jesus said about our money ... he said a lot of things about it.

He said we couldn't worship it.

He said that we didn't need it.

He said we could let it go.

He said a lot more. It makes the scary go away when we read his words.

And I think that today we just need the scary to go away for a little while.

Everest

"from the depth of the pacific
to the height of everest
and still the world is smoother
than a shiny ball-bearing
so i take a few steps back
and put on a wider lens
and it changes your skin,
your sex, and what your wearing
distance shows your *silhouette*
to be a lot like mine
like a sphere is a sphere
and all of us here
have been here all the time
yeah, we've been here all the time*

you brought me to church
cinder blocks, flourescent light
you brought me to church
at seven o'clock on a sunday night
and the band was rockin'
and the floors were scrubbed clean
and everybody had a tambourine

so i took a deep breath and became
the white girl with the hair
and you sat right beside me
while everybody stared
and through the open window
i think the singing went outside
and floated up to tell
all the stars not to hide
'cuz by the time church let out
the sky was much clearer
and the moon was so beautiful
that the ocean held up a mirror

as we walked home we spoke slowly
we spoke slow
and we spoke lowly
like it was taking more time
than usual to choose
the words to go
with your squeaky sandal shoes
like time is not a thing
thats ours to lose

from the height of the pacific
to the depths of the everest..."

I love this song by Ani DiFranco. I realize more and more the privilege it is to be part of God's redemptive plan. The joy it is to share the good news of Jesus Christ with those around us. The grace behind my small part in the story.

Sometimes I think that God will be so disappointed in me that God will stop using me. I have this ridiculously human fear that God's grace will shrivel up and die and I will be left alone in the squalor of my sinful choices. And yet, I am continually surprised by God's grace. I am reminded that God has a redemptive plan and I am part of it. With all of my wrong God still uses me. God still has a plan for me - God can and does still use even me for the great good.

Merciful Heavenly Father, thank you for using me in small ways to affect others. Thank you for forgiving me of my sins although they are numerous. God, when I fail - and I will - I want to have no fear, but rather to live in the knowledge of your grace. Thank you for including me, Lord.

I think there's this part of me that is learning to love again. Like I've just been so bitter that I couldn't love. And for a long time I just wanted to feel love. I mean, I love my friends and all ... and I have ... but I feel that I'm a lot more open to loving now. I realize that I can love without being loved in return and that its OK. It's not the end of the world if those I love don't love me with the same tenacity. I'm a lot more OK with that now.

I'm allowed to be happy. I give myself permission to love. I give myself permission to fail.

There’s this great scene in Family Guy. Baby Stewie marries Olivia, a child actress. They live in a cardboard home and have pasta spaghetti for dinner. Olivia asks Stewie how his day went and he replies, “Well, it was a long one. First I was an astronaut, then I was a cowboy, and then I was a fireman.” It’s a great montage of children pretending to live in a grown up world. At one point, a few days after the wedding, they have a conversation.

Stewie: We are in a sexless relationship. We have yet to have sex.
Olivia: Do you even know what sex is?
Stewie: Of course I do … is it some kind of cake? That’s beside the point.

As I think more and more about God’s relationship with humans, I just can’t help think that we’ve understood something terribly wrong. That at this point in our theology we have achieved little more than a disconnect. Stewie doesn’t know what sex is, but he knows he isn’t getting any. Maybe we have no concept of love. Maybe we have no concept of grace.

I realize more and more that my theology is too small. My theology is just large enough for my current life situation. My theology isn’t big enough for the Holocaust. My theology isn’t big enough for the crack whore’s crack addicted baby. My theology isn’t big enough for the bulimic, lesbian middle schooler trying desperately to fit in at youth group. My theology is simply too small.

But, as I look to Jesus I realize that somehow His theology is big enough. His understanding of God and how God interacts with us is big enough. Jesus held to a theology that was big enough for tax collectors, whores, rapists, murderers, gossipers, and lying 12 year olds.

The Bible says that God’s grace is sufficient. And I have to believe that. I have to believe that when nothing makes sense, that God’s grace is sufficient. I have to believe that whether God “has everything planned out” or whether God “doesn’t know if I’ll choose Subway or McDonalds” that God’s grace is still sufficient. I have to believe that my understanding of God and humankind’s interaction with God doesn’t change God.

That my inability to understand love or grace or forgiveness doesn’t hinder God’s ability to love or show grace or forgive.

That when my understanding of God amounts to little more than a total disconnect that God’s grace is still sufficient.

God, I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how you created me or how you still manage to love me. Your grace is sufficient, your love is tremendous, your forgiveness undeniable. May my simple life help one person understand your nature just a little bit better than I can.

Rebecca has missed my blogging, and quite frankly, so have I. I have missed the cathartic excercise.

I'm working on the application process for the General Board of Global Ministries. It makes me feel so vulnerable to know that my entire life (hyperbole?) is in their hands! All they see of me is a few slips of paper. It's so weird. I know that this is just the first step, but it still feels inadequate.

I had friends over to watch Son of Rambow. You must rent it. It is one of the best moveis I've ever seen.

I'm wrestling with the whole "view of God" dialogue. It's weird, because more than anything else I agree with the ideas behind openness. Openness says that God doesn't know the future. God is still omniscient ... he knows everything there is to know ... but that doesn't include the future.

That really jives with me. Take the holocaust: Openness says that God knew Hitler was a really bad man and that he put it in the hearts of man to stop him, but that people failed. With a Calvinist perspective, God caused the Holocaust. With an Arminian view, God knew the Holocaust was coming and did nothing to stop it.

Or, take the idea of where people go who have never heard the good news. Heaven or Hell? A strict Calvinist view is that they are not of the elect and will burn in Hell. A strict Arminian view is that God knows these people will die without hearing the word and there is nothing God can do about it. A Universalist says that they all go to Heaven. Openness could believe that God has a plan to save all of those who haven't heard, but that because we are free creatures there are a lot of us who are choosing not to follow God's plan and because of that all of those people will go to Hell. God has decided to leave their salvation in our hands, and we are screwing up ... but God holds out hope.

It's an interesting proposition, really. I'll need to think more about it.

I love reading missionary biographies. David Livingstone, Amy Carmichael, Mother Teresa, Hudson Taylor; I love their stories. It's interesting to note the things the biographer conveniently leaves out. I wonder why they never recall the dark nights of lonely passion. I wonder why the don't record the frustration of doubt: "I'm such a hypocrite, and yet I am to take Your precious good news to the ends of the earth?" I wonder why they record the numerous salvation experiences but leave out the times the missionary found himself or herself in the most unglamorous places; because the missionary call is just as significantly to the party where they're passing out cocaince as it is to Africa and grass huts. They will never write a book about the cocaine party. There isn't a market for records of massive failures in the lives of your favorite spiritual guides.

I remember the last time Facebook made a major overhaul. I remember the upset and the mutual disgust. We called it Stalkerbook because it told you every time someone ended a relationship and began a new one. I can't function without this information today. I remember the outrage only because I face it again. Facebook is again making major changes.

Change is a little hard to deal with. My church in Toccoa just swapped out both of our pastors. I was gone for the summer and haven't heard one word of complaint. Any complaining has swept past us in those two months I was gone. Maybe a whole bunch of people have left the church in disgust of the new clergy ... but the seats have been filled by others and we don't miss them.

Sometimes we're afraid of change. Even when change is good and necessary we are afraid to do it. We begin the process of adding another service at Toccoa First UMC, and I pray that we continue unafraid. Because sometimes change is good and necessary ... and often anyone who would be against it will fade away quickly. So far I haven't heard any opposition, and I feel that maybe now the people are getting it. I think my friends are beginning to understand that this change is needed.

I was talking about a heretic the other day. I was talking about a book by Bishop John Shelby Spong. Bishop Spong denies the resurrection. I'm not particularly against heresy ... but I have issue with denying the resurrection. I mean, as I see it, without the resurrection we really don't have anything to go on.

But then I started to think about it. Although my theology doesn't deny the resurrection my life does. Daily sometimes. Everytime I'm selfish and sinful I deny the resurrection. I would never think of denying it on an intellectual, theoretical level, but I don't think twice about denying it through my life. I would never misstate it in words, but I wholeheartedly deny it in actions often.

Because, for my generation they don't need proof that the tomb was empty, they need proof that our hearts are full.

Well, a lot has happened in life recently. Rebecca, my sister, is engaged. Mike, her fiance, proposed in front of everyone at our party. It was super sweet.

I'm on my way back down to Georgia. I spent a night with Bob and Ruth Higginbotham and a night with Bill and Lori Beatty. I'm on my way to Meredith Beck's house and then on to the Zambrowicz' family home. I'll get into Toccoa Late Wednedsday night or early Thursday morning.

It feels good to be independent again after spending more than a week with the family. It feels really good.

I had something really great to blog about, but I forgot it. I'm sure when I'm back in my routine I will be back to blogging regularly again.

I have been watching a lot of informercials lately. They are on TV all the time during the summer, and I enjoy watching mind numbing entertainment. It's great fun to watch the overly-excited host proudly proclaiming the most spectacular claims.

I'm amazed at how well every product works. But, while watching the wonders of television camera tricks I realize that none of the products work nearly as well as they claim. If they did, everyone's home would be spotless, all abs would be in packs of six or more, and meal preparation would never take more than 15 minutes and one gadget. We know that infomercials are fake. We hear the hurried prodding "and if you order in the next 30 seconds..." and we know that something about the message is off. If we pay attention we understand that the company knows if we spend more than 10 minutes thinking about our decision we will come to our senses.

Sometimes at church, particularly at youth gathering, I get the same vibe. I hear a person with a little too much enthusiasm proudly proclaiming the most spectacular claims. The offer is made to the gathered crowd and then the pleading begins. We use rhyming phrases. "Hell is too long to be wrong." We offer extras on the side. We give a time limit, "I'm going to keep this altar open for a few more minutes."

It's as though we are afraid that if the people stop and carefully consider the offer they will reject it. It's a sad state of affairs.

Jesus never used these tactics. He told people not to follow Him if they didn't have what it takes. He encouraged people to follow Him, but in the same breath He told them to count the cost. If they weren't willing to give up family and friends to follow Him they probably didn't have the dedication needed to follow him. He told the people that if they needed a miracle to believe then they didn't have the faith to follow anyway.

No catchy slogan, no sequined outfit, no photo-shopped pictures. Just a remarkable offer and a life to back it up.

I'm watching the olympics. I love watching athletes. I love watching such extremely disciplined people.

I consider myself a poorly disciplined person. I'm obviously overweight. (Although, at my heaviest I weighed 316 and I'm down to 266 ... so 50lbs down!) I rarely remember to take a full course of anti-biotics. I can't do 12-step programs. I just don't do discipline.

Sometimes I think I would be happier if I was more disciplined. I'll work on that. Haha.

So, I realize that I have been ignoring my dear friends who read my blog here. I have been busy updating my Russia blog.

I'm back in Kane, PA. It's weird to be home again. Mom is currenly giving a lesson to a very elderly gentleman. I'm driving my "new" car. My great-uncle failed his vision test so my grandparents got his nice, new car and I was given their '96 Oldsmobile. Mom gets my '99 Monte Carlo. My first car was an Oldsmobile. It was a '92 and was built shortly before automatic door locks and windows were available. Other than that it was truly the perfect car.

My "new" Oldsmobile is exactly like my first car, except it has both automatic door locks and windows. I couldn't be happier. I will need to find a way to use my new i-pod with the tape deck, though.

Mary Sirianni and I went out last night. We went for a walk on main street to see how many former classmates we could spot. Sadly, all of our street friends had gone into hiding by the time we took our walk.

Mom and I had a great conversation about the fact that I feel that my generation will change the world. Every time we see someone from my class smoking pot on mainstreet she asks, "That's the generation that will change the world?" I always respond in the affirmative.