If the joy of the Lord is in your heart ... tell your face.

I live in Toccoa, GA. It happens to be the buckle of the Bible Belt. The football team has scripture clearly emblazoned on each t-shirt of every member of the team. If your pick-up truck lacks scripture verses you are most assuredly in cahoots with the devil. If your (KJV) Bible isn't worn rugged you are a "backslider."

There are 64 Southern Baptist churches in my county. My town has 12,000 people and happens to be the only major town in the county. I live in a thoroughly "churched" area. There isn't a single teacher at the Elementary School where I work who doesn't have a church affiliation. Divorce isn't mentioned. Living an "alternative lifestyle" means you go to the bowling alley on Thursdays instead of Tuesdays.

It is in the midst of this culture that I daily find hurting and broken people. The concept of the gospel held by the majority of people in my area leaves little room for the marginalized. Somehow the gospel message has become mainstream. The message of Jesus is no longer about restoring people to a right relationship with God but about big hair, excessive makeup, and showy cars.

It's neither about orthodoxy nor orthopraxy. It's about appearances. Does it look like I'm living the right way? Do I drive out of town for liquor and hookers? Where I live now it isn't about how well you are living out your faith, it's all about how well it looks like you're living out your faith.

There is a disconnect. People don't cuss or drink, but they also show little evidence of a changed heart.

Tony and I were friends in middle school. We went to church camp together. We both had a great time there. We both asked Jesus into our hearts at the end of that week. So how is it that, a decade later, I am still a committed Christian and Tony has had nothing to do with faith since that day?

Why have I held on to faith when all else failed and Tony felt that faith was the first thing to fail? We will be talking about faith and obedience in worship on Sunday. I have faith that God is real and personal. I am willing to obey God to the ends of the earth. I do wonder, however, why faith isn't a universal concept. How could any God created being live without a desperate need for faith?

I know that people will fail to understand the Gospel of grace. People will take it too far, they will justify sin, and they will fail at righteousness. People will hear me preach the gospel of grace and take it as a license to sin. I know of one brother who, after hearing the gospel of grace, decided that because it “felt right” it was alright for him to sleep with his girlfriend. All of his life he had learned that it was wrong, but in the gospel of grace he found a loophole.

And the loophole does exist. Jesus Christ gives us the freedom to do what we want. He loves us enough to die on the cross, but also loves us enough to give us the freedom to daily reject him without consequence. Love is lived in tears. The gospel of grace exists on the principle that sin is fun, but not fun enough to equal the eternal glory of God. I’m sure my friend has had a lot of fun having sex with his girlfriend. Sex is fun. But, it won’t compare to the eternal glory of God.

“We’ve all been the adulterous whore at one point in our lives.” I spoke these words to one friend who carried on an adulterous affair for an extended period of time. She left the church, her friends, and even God to enjoy that relationship … but she eventually realized that it wasn’t fun anymore. She was miserable. She called me crying and asked for prayer. It wasn’t fun enough.

I know that people who hear me preach the gospel of grace will take their new found freedom too far. They will sin, they might ruin their reputations or their lives. I know this. I have experienced this. But I won’t stop preaching the gospel of grace. I won’t stop because it is the only gospel. There is no gospel of good deeds or of religious exercise or of legalism or of “do whatever you want as long as you are in church on Sunday”… gospel means “good news.” The good news is the grace available in Jesus Christ.

I drove down to Florida this weekend. I had set plans to sleep 8-12 hours every night to try and sleep off this sickness in my body. My plans feel through on Friday night when I found out that Saturday was my grandmother's birthday. Normally, this revelation would have meant a quick phone call on Saturday ... but not this year.

My grandfather drove to Pennsylvania a few days ago. Grandmother felt that she wasn't in good enough health to make the trip. So, Grandfather left her home alone for several days. One of those days happened to be her birthday. My plans changed radically, and through the help and support of my friends I was able to table everything I had to do for the weekend and make the trip to Florida. It was worth it. I know that my Grandmother was happy to see me and glad to not be alone for her birthday.

On the way back I had dinner with several of my Macon friends. It was a really great dinner with really great people. It reminded me again of the need for solid community in the life of the church - and that community in the church does not exclude those outside of the church.

I didn't get the sleep that I needed. I still have my "smoker's cough" but I did find some rest this weekend. Enough to make it through five days of class? We'll see.

The story we should have heard, the truth we should have learned.

Words were spoken, tempers flared; hearts were broken, no one cared. I don’t know what the argument was over, I don’t much care to know. But, there was internal division at my church over something that will eventually seem silly. The couple in charge of the kid’s program left in tears a few minutes before the kids program was scheduled to start. The rest of the workers scrambled to pull something together. I didn’t know the situation at the time. I only knew that we had decided to let the kids play on the playground instead of doing the usual programming.

If I had known what had happened I could have helped. Before leaving, the couple had given me the skit to be performed as the Bible lesson. Before leaving, they told me I wouldn’t be doing it. If I had known the situation, I’m not sure if I could have done the drama. Our Bible story was one I had never heard before. The story of Nabal and his wife’s kindness taught the lesson that we must treat others with respect and kindness to have harmony in our own lives. Let’s play a game of “Spot the Irony.”

… and it is irony; so we laugh. But the laughter burns, burns like the tears did.

Toccoa First United Methodist begins the Natural Church Development process. The goals have been inadequately explained, the procedure barely mentioned, and the people are confused. We did poorest in the field of Passionate Spirituality.

Garrett is five. He colored with his grandmother in the back of the room while his grandfather taught my classes’ lesson. Mack spoke on social justice, forgiving ourselves for our past, and the promised hope of salvation realized through Jesus Christ. Mack was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago, will undergo surgery in a few more weeks, and has actively thought about his past. He has realized his mistakes. He has realized his success.

Garrett watched his grandfather tell friends about the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ. Garrett watched his grandfather shed tears while speaking passionately about the forgiveness he has received from Christ. Garrett, and the rest of my class, saw passionate spirituality in action.

Mack has found that all of the money he earned in this life isn’t worth a second of heaven. But, it goes beyond that. Mack isn’t a Christian to get to heaven; it’s not about the fire insurance. Mack is a Christian because he chose to follow Christ. Mack knows there is a chance he could die in the not too distant future; and yet he doesn’t focus on the promised rewards of heaven. He chooses to focus on the commands and teachings of Jesus. Heaven will be nice, but it isn’t the point of salvation.

Passionate Spirituality. Being in love with the savior? Having daily QT? Allowing your grandson to see your broken heart through your tears? Talking about your mission trip? How do we express the love of the savior in our daily lives?

Tolstaya Devchonka

The Fat Girl. It was the name of a television program,, THE television program to watch, when I was living in Russia. The premise was simple enough; fat girl in an orphanage is found by long lost uber rich family who takes her in and terrorizes her for being fat and ugly.

They had a skinny girl in a fat suit play the lead role and the fat suit was no bigger than I am. I longed desperately to have something to talk about with my peers while in Russia and television was free, easy to talk about, and a mainstay in everyone’s life. I watched every show of Tolstaya Devchonka.

Her rich family held general soap opera positions. Everyone was rich and beautiful, but the show focused on the fat girl. I figured out the ending long before my friends. The show was a Spanish TV production translated into Russian: Spain and America both have the tale of “The Ugly Duckling” which is one tale Russia is lacking. When the boy that the fat girl liked started calling her his “little duck” I knew that she would undergo a transformation. (I had it pegged when I realized it was a skinny person in a fat suit, but we’ll ignore that.)

The boy she liked didn’t like her because she was fat. She had a nice personality so she was immediately cast aside as the best friend, kept around for dating and relationship advice.

The show ended with a triumphant finale. She came back from a few weeks of vacation, thin and beautiful, and the boy she liked started to like her as well, because now, she too was thin and beautiful. He was even willing to sleep with her now that she wasn’t monstrously sized.

I was so angry after the finale. My friends adored it. Ollysa felt that it was a beautiful love story. Olga loved how romantic it was. I was angry.

We see the same thing day in and day out. If you are thin you are loveable. Margaret Cho discusses her numerous eating disorders in her comedy routine. She says that when she lost weight her father loved her and when she gained weight she was invisible to him. She laughs about it, but you can hear the hurt in her laughter.

I’m an obese person. At my heaviest I weighed 310 pounds. I was loveable then. I loved myself. I’m down to 280 now. I’m loveable now. I love myself. I have found that if I can’t be happy at my current weight I will never be happy.

I wanted the Fat Girl to find happiness and an inner peace. If she did lose weight, I wanted her to ditch the jerk who wouldn’t love her when she was fat. She did neither. She perpetuated the myth that every fat person is just 20 pounds away from happiness.

I weigh exactly what I weighed when I was 16. My target weight is 250 pounds. If I get down to that weight I will weigh what I did when I was in middle school. But … I’m happy at 280. I’m not reserving happiness for the next goal weight. I’m happy with who I am, with who Christ has made me to be.

It’s no love story. It won’t get the ratings. But, it proves a point. The story of my life.

I'm having a wonderful vacation this week. We have been doing everything on the West Side of St. Louis. I've had a lot of fun doing the most random things.

John and I have been getting lost every day while Rachel is at work. We went a REALLY nice mall (hard wood floors and italian leather sofas throughout!) and pretended to be rich and classy. I bought two really nice designer shirts (I'm becoming trendy, please pray for me) for formal occasions. I only brought one nice outfit (for temple on Friday) but we have gone to a nice restaurant every night so far. I needed more nice clothes.

John and I watched La vie en Rose. It is amazing and artsy. Not for kids, but not a bunch of cussing either. It was really well done. St. Louis has a number of free-cheap cultural things. Pretty much amazing.

I've played Tennis almost every day here. Rachel gave me an old tennis racket that is still really nice and a lot better than anything I could afford. I beat John in two games. I'm improving a lot. Soon I'll win a singles set.

John and I are going to do the science center today and then we are going to do a low brow dinner with a really expensive fondue dessert as our entree. We are doing the city musuem tonight. only $3 after 10PM.

Hope everything is going well with everyone I'm not around.

“Let what we do in here fill the streets out there.”

What is it, exactly, that we’re doing in here? We’re singing songs, listening to a man lecture, and giving money to perpetuate “here.” What is it that we’re doing in here, again?

I’m perplexed and confused is essentially what it comes down to. I have been a follower of Christ for a full decade. I have been a believer for slightly longer than I was a heathen. I gave my life to Jesus ten years ago, and still, I don’t know what being a Christian should look like. I have found few imitable people within the church.

I hearken back to the fruit of the spirit for an imitable Christian lifestyle. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. Save my own mother and possibly Dr. Smith, I can’t think of any Christian who fits the bill. I view the beatitudes as an indicator of the Christian life. Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are the meek and mild, blessed are the merciful, those who hunger after justice for righteousness sake, those who are persecuted. It’s all well and good – I adore those scriptures. But I don’t see it. I don’t see it in the church and I don’t know how to see it in my life. How do I become more meek? Anyone?

I’m constantly berated by the not-so-subtle messages of the church. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t cuss, and don’t leave home without your WWJD bracelet. I joke a good bit about the WWJD bracelet craze; and I apologize to the people who have been helped by that phrase. I haven’t. I’m not opposed to morality – I just don’t think it’s what being a Christian is all about. I believe that Jesus came to abolish the rules system mentality. I believe that Christians can drink, smoke, cuss, and wear any bracelet they choose.

And, then, I’m stuck back where I began. If we aren’t fighting against the evils of immorality, how will the world know that we are Christians. “And they’ll know we are Christians by our T-shirts, by our T-shirts.” Will people know that I’m a believer if I love extravagantly but also cuss? Will they know I’m a Christian by my love … even if I consume alcohol?

I believe that we as the church have set ourselves up for failure. We (the church) have created an impossible morality system that can only lead to mess ups, mistakes, and the forced shooting of our wounded. If we reduce the Gospel to “don’t mess up” the inevitable end will be that we do, in fact, mess up. When this happens we have nowhere to run.

“…but to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8 – What does the Lord require of you? We don’t cuss but we also don’t give a fuck about the poor. In the grand scheme of things – which do you think brings more displeasure to the Lord? When one of his children says the S-word or when his people fail to care for the hurting?

Morality rules suit us better. We can make up our own morality. We can live in McMansions and ignore the poor while demeaning people for sexually errant lifestyles and call it Biblical. Justice isn’t our “thang” as the kids say. If we really cared we would act justly and work to improve the education system – we would show mercy and get kids to stop saying words like “thang.”

What would it look like if we followed the advice of Micah 6:8? Let’s walk humbly with God. Let’s stop trying to show the world how righteous we are and let’s start being real with people. Let’s act justly. Let’s love mercy. It’s a novel idea. And yes, you can still wear your WWJD bracelet.

Don't think that this post is finished. I'm still confused. I'm still in need of answers. I am, as of now, still unsatisfied.

I'm heading to St. Louis in a few Days. I have no insights into life on this particular day. I'm enjoying my vacation time a great deal. I stopped all thought processes three days ago. They haven't started back up yet. Class starts on the 26th. I should be ready by then!

And they lie to you. They tell you that love is real. They tell you that love will carry on, carry you through, or carry away your burdens. They tell you that if you are prettier, smarter, sportier, manlier, taller, thinner, leaner, bulkier, (etc) [__________ fill in the blank] that you will be good enough to be loved. But they lie to you. It simply isn’t true. The love story is false. The lines were rehearsed, the faces made up, the plot so contrite, the dialogue a bitter lie. People don’t love one another.

People lust after one another. They may respect one another. They may be compatible. But … this idea of a person being in love with another person is simply false. I’ve never seen it. I’ve seen moments of sacrificial love between people. They are few and far between.

Love is painful. Love tears at your heart … it rips open your stomach. There is nothing pretty about love. There are no pink frilly hearts involved in love. Love demands a sacrifice. You can’t love someone and not be willing to die for him or her. Jesus loved us and it got him death. We think that when we love someone it gets us sex. Our concept of love is simply wrong.

Our relationships are built on lust. Lust comes first in almost every relationship. We build our relationships from the foundation of lust. Even good evangelicals start a relationship by pursuing a girl who they would be happy to screw for the next 60 years.

We are being lied to. Jane Austen never figured it out. Ron Jeremy hasn’t figured it out. We are too busy filling our lives with stuff, with painful memories and thoughts, or with “pleasure” to ever experience love. Mother Teresa figured it out. I imagine that her heart bled with love – that she endured more pain in loving others than most of us could ever imagine.

Love is patient, love is kind … We don’t get it.

The lyrics of a well written, passionately performed song can move me to a frenzy. The words of a well crafted novel can bring me to tears. Recently, I sat in a book store and wept over pictures of Annie Liebovitz’ family and life. Her pictures were so real, so extraordinary. There’s a passion there that captivated my mind.

Gerald asked me a week ago if I felt a Christian could lose his passion. I assured him that, not only did I feel it would be theoretically possible, but that I have routinely lost my passion. I let him know that it is not only okay to lose passion but a part of the Christian life.

I see no passion in stained glass. There is nothing real about the crystallized Jesus stoically staring down his nose at the heathen in the pew. There is something real and passionate about the pictures in Annie’s book. The pictures of her life partner, Susan, being diagnosed with cancer were more real than stock paintings of Jesus praying in the garden. Annie allowed me to view the slow demise of the woman she loved and the births of her three daughters. Most Christians won’t let anyone see them without makeup. There’s little passion in our lives.

Few Christian bands move beyond superficial lyrics. (How many words can we find that rhyme with God, Jesus, love, or heart.) There are exceptions … they are rare and I support them. I shudder to think of the dribble that most Christian authors put out. Christian movies are horribly corny. What is it about being in love with the risen Savior that makes us incapable of producing media above mediocrity?

Gerald went to the City Commissioners meeting last week. He asked them to be more lenient – to show grace – to those who couldn’t afford to pay their water bill on time. He asked them to give more second chances to the poor in our town. He asked the mayor if he had ever experienced true poverty. Gerald has … he came from there. - … - … - … The newspaper mocked Gerald mercilessly. The writer mocked Gerald’s style of speech, uneducated manner, and the way he was received by the educated commissioners. The paper’s author made it the top priority to point out each of Gerald’s blunders.

Gerald had passion, though. He passionately believed that our town was committing an injustice. He believed that it was wrong for a Christian society to ignore the poor. (If a person is late with a payment, their water is immediately shut off. There is a large fee to have water turned back on.) I’m glad that there are still Christians left with passion.

I long for a passionate church. It is hard to show passion in a 100 million dollar “Christian” film while people in America don’t have money enough to eat. It’s difficult to realize we are spending millions of dollars to entertain ourselves while people go hungry.

I hope for passion – I believe it is a possibility

Influenced

The three of us were shopping at the Outlet Malls when the truth came out. We still dress as if our parents dressed us. Inexplicably the fashion choices we make are aligned completely with the clothes our parents dressed us in.

I was dressed in hand-me-downs as a child and today I wear Goodwill and Salvation Army clothes almost exclusively. John was a label whore since childhood. His parents dressed him in Oshkosh –B’gosh (I take pride in the fact that I have no idea how to spell that). On the day we were shopping he was wearing AE and J-Crew. He ALWAYS wears name-brand clothes. Rachel’s parents dressed her in vintage clothes. She was shopping in a green frock with buttons too large for usefulness and brown leggings. All three of us still prescribe to the clothing choices of our parents.

It’s such a simple thing. We never really break free from our influences. Our religion is largely decided by our families, our perception of ourselves is determined by those of whom we love, our favorite foods will always be cooked by mom, and ultimately our career paths will be narrowed by what is socially acceptable.

How can we possible escape? It’s such a defeatist view … we are destined to become our parents. The simplest things will echo throughout our lives.

My mom brushes her teeth three times a day while I’ve never seen my father brush his teeth. I brush mine once a day.


I don’t think we can ever escape the influences of our childhood. I don’t think we can ever get away from them. Maybe we are destined to repeat the mistakes of our parents and grandparents until our lineage is either too messed up to breed any longer or it “normals out.” I’m not holding out too much hope.

The youth pastor did my second least favorite thing last night. After his sermon he asked for "everyone who wants to do great things for God to stand up!" After everyone was standing, he said "if you don't really want to do great things for God and give everything over to Him, go ahead and sit down."

Like any shy, insecure middle schooler would ever sit down and face the onslaught of condemnation from his or her peers. I wish I had sat down. It's not that I don't want to do great things for God ... I do. It's that I'm not sure I can give everything up right now. Part of me feels that I won't ever be able to give everything up. I believe that God still takes me as I am. I'm sure he's not jubilant about the sin that remains, but he still loves me and will change my heart in His time. So ... who's up for Mediocrity 4 Jesus?

I've lost my passion. It's a desert place - a valley. I'm okay with it. Valleys happen. It doesn't mean that I'm a bad person or a bad Christian. It doesn't mean that I hate Jesus. I still love Jesus - I just have trouble showing it right now. I don't need expectations. I don't need hyper happy Jesus Freaks to tell me that they are "praying for me." I don't need condemnation. I need people to be honest with me and to love me without abandonment. It's what everyone needs.

I'm not alone. There are probably dozens of kids who wish they had sat back down last night. There are probably a lot of kids who feel like a failure for lying to God in front of people they love. It happens.

Sometimes I think that all Christians should be moderate. Sometimes I think that no Christian should ever be so dispassionate to stoop to the level of moderate.

The Breakfast Club for six year olds

We had some down time today in my Kindergarten classroom. We let them work on puzzles, and, upon completion of forementioned puzzles, talk. They just sat around and talked about nothing. They discussed literature. (I must concurr that "The Red Ripe Strawberry" is more enjoyable than"Chica Chica Boom Boom.") They discussed politics (Ricky is the coolest by a majority vote, but that could have been called on day one.)They chatted about current events (Summer school is winding down, even the decorations are being removed.) They talked about life.

We don't do that enough. We don't take enough time to sit and talk. We argue a good bit, yes; but I find that when we do that we don't listen. It's not a discussion. It's so rare to just sit and talk with a person. To say something, listen to his or her response, and reply in kind. It's an oddity. I thinkour churches should have lots of time to just sit and talk. I visited Alma, a friend from my older adult sunday school class, and we talked about our grandmothers for an hour. I'll never answer a Jeopardy question because of what I learned, it won't improve my grades, and I won't win a talent contest as a result of that time - but I grew as a person. I learned a little bit more from where my friend of great faith came.

It's rare for six year olds to be given the chance to just talk during the school day. It's even rarer for adults to choose to make time for the pursuit. It's something I learned from my mother, she made time every Fridayto talk with Althea and Betty. I went along with her every week and listened to their conversations. They talked about everything and nothing. It's so rare - and I think that rarity is reason enough to begin investing. Wanna talk?

For some unknown reason, my desire to change the world is overpowered by my desire channel surf. All of my discussions on eradicating poverty are eviscerated by my own desire for a newer car. I fiercely believe all that I teach, but I find it almost impossible to live it out. Love ax-murderers, child molestors, and crack addicts? Is this even attainable? Can't I just try not to cuss too much, God?

I need friends who can appreciate and learn to love my unique eccentricities:

I don't watch trilogies. I will occassionally watch two out of three, but only in large groups and never with the intent of "finishing the story" by watching the third one.

I am agorophobic. I fear large open spaces. I don't like walking through fields. Oceans feel weird.

I don't like walking towards reflective surfaces. Mirrors are generally alright, but things that aren't intended to be reflective (darkened windows, etc.) that are reflective creep me out.

I like to hold hands and cuddle. It's (generally) not a sexual thing. I will cuddle with anyone who doesn't smell bad. It's affirming yet not slutty. It reminds me of happier days when holding hands was acceptable and cuddling wasn't sexual. I think we fear things from childhood. Why do we stop skipping?

I need to hear "I love you" from friends and family. It's an approval thing. I feel like I have done something wrong if people won't say it to me when hanging up the phone. I like to trick people, by catching them off guard, into responding with those words.

I like to watch people, especially friends, doing nothing at all. Try not to be freaked out and I'll try not to get caught.

I mimic laughs - whichever is best. If you hate my laugh, let it be known that it might be yours. I don't have a distinct laugh. I choose the one that makes me feel happiest. Right now I have a mix of Brittany, my boss from summer camp, my aunt Kim, John Bennet. I haven't been captivated by a laugh in some time.

I realize that I court my friends as if I were intending to propose. They generally get over it.

It's time for catharsis

I love friendship. I love friendships that move too quickly. I love being loud, talking loud, loving loud. I'm sure it grates on some people, but I'm okay with that.

I have confessed to and recieved confession from a number of friends this week. We have confronted brokeness and shame. I believe that Satan wants our sin to stay a secret or if it is known he wants there to be shame. We faced sin with the power of Christ and got through it without shame.

Now it is time for the healing process to begin. Your sins are forgiven. It doesn't matter anymore what your past held. It only matters what's in store for your future. Catharsis happened and it continues.

I love friendship. I love friendships that heal the soul and mend brokeness.

On Regeneration

I'm reading my textbook of Systematic Theology, and am currently on the topic of regeneration. The concept of being born again. Grudem argues that it is entirely passive because of the analogy. When we are born we do nothing. When we are born again we do nothing. Interesting concept - I'll get back to it some day.

But, our birth is two things. The most important event in our lives and something we have no recollection of. I think that our regeneration should be viewed in the same light. It's huge. It's a huge deal. But, what we should remember and focus on is everything after that.

Landa Cope would piss off the righteous TFC students by saying, "You say, 'But Landa, I'm saved!' and I say, 'Good, I'm glad you're saved ... now what." The critics were merciless. She was "downplaying salvation." I mean, she was a woman, and for women salvation comes through childbirth and she was still single ... so she couldn't even be saved, right?(strong sense of sarcasm)

A salvation experience is so incredibly important. I don't want to downplay that, but I hate hearing testimonies that ramble on about the previous, sinful life for twenty minutes and end with "and then I got saved and my life has changed. Amen." It's not about the time you spent in the womb, it's not about the birthing experience, it's about Jesus and what He has done in your life and in the lives of others through you.

We have churches that focus entirely on the birthing process and never even attempt child-rearing. We show people the doorway of salvation, but even after they have entered it we are reluctant to show them the Kingdom standing behind it.