Sufjan does it again...

Well... it ha s been a while since I posted... but I'll be doing more. Here is an expanded version of my response to my friend Zadok's question about Christianity and Art...

I just had a great discussion about this with my dad the other day over a little Sufjan in the car... My feeling is this- the "cheese" as we are calling it seems to result from an assertion or ownership of the truth, rather than an honest exploration of where the truth leaves us. I guess I have to explain context- My dad and I were listening to Sufjan's Illinois album; right around Casimir Pulaski Day, my dad says, "this song is one of the most earnest and honest songs I can remember hearing in a long time. If I think about it too long, it makes me tear up." The song recounts a young boy (Sufjan?) who's young love of a girl is complicated by cancer and finally death; even after praying and yearning, "nothing ever happens" and the young girl passes away, leaving the boy with a gigantic question mark, a huge "WTF?!?!" I agreed with my dad, making he connection that Sufjan didn't give us an answer or a cleverly phrased bit of fundamentalist jargon- he gives us a real-life slice of what it means to be a person of faith and not understand why the "miracle-makin' power" didn't swoop down and cure the cancer. I mean, that's what I wanted to happen. But it didn't. And yet, my faith was somehow bolstered more because I recognized this situation as something very near to the human condition and not some made-up fantasy world where sin doesn't exist or is easily dispensed with or forgotten about sans the bloody sacrifice of Christ. Life is hard- that's part of the curse. Being a follower of Christ has never warranted that you'd get to cut in line wherever you wanted to at spiritual Disneyland! But, the ineffible grace that has been extended to me gets worked out in me, through me, and despite me in the dirty valleys of a life and this world. It is here that I am learning to trust God for my next paycheck, or for my next stage in life, or for peace and a cessation of the violence I see; it is NOT in a fairytail land of gumdrop buttons, "sinless" communities of "light"(thanks TK!), and unchallenging dogmatic resitations set to whatever the hell the kids are listening to today. This is a faux world that does not exist and will never exist- it is not the Promised Land, it is not the New Heaven and New Earth. It is propaganda for a religiosity that does not take the Body and the Blood seriously enough or fear God enough to realize that the answers we have been given are the starting point, not the ending; God loved this place- even with all it's cracks from sin; he loved it so much that his son came to recapture it. We get to be here, in the midst of this cosmic coup, and we get to respond and reflect and wonder and muse about it all. As we live here, I think we straddle darkness and light all the time, and I think that good artists do this regardless of where their faith, or lack of, may be. They are responding to what they see rather than pushing their creation as a means to getting a point across. That, if I remember some of my art history, would look a lot like some of the communist propaganda art which tried to insinuate an ideal and a form that was not real and never would be real.

Weird movie...

I'm 27. That is, in and of itself, completely unremarkable. Lots of people are 27. Millions, probably, at this very moment, and hurling around the sun for the 27th time. And, so it goes, you move on and become 28. And then 40. And then you play shuffleboard on a Carnival Cruise, complain to the Condo Association about the new neighbors and their noise, and cantankerously wait to be with Jesus. Or, something like that. Anyway, the point is, 27 ain't that big of a deal. Of course, contextually, 27 can mean quite a bit- in some countries and cultures, I'd be a tribal elder, a father of multiple children, a devoted husband who had married very early on, as was the custom. Or, given the state of most of the world right now, I'd probably be dead- be it disease, ethnic cleansing, war, or famine, I'd be a memory at best. More than likely I'd be fertilizer. That's hardly where I am trying to take this little exercise, so I'll leave that be for now, even though it is interesting to consider. No, for me, right now, I am a twenty seven year old man, living in Seattle, trying to sort through my ideas about equality, fairness, justice, commerce, family, education, friendship, spirituality, relationships, sexuality; I'm living each day, encountering scenarios and situations as a maturing and thoughtful 27 year old man. I do not have all (or many, as it turns out) of THE answers for the questions I see posed, but I do have responses and guesses that come from experience and luck that seem to get me a little closer to synthesizing thoughts and actions. I can't know the future of my life, but I can start to understand who I am on a fundamental level. I can't call all things black and white, but I'm getting better at navigating the grey seas. I never once dreamed that I would live through a phase of life where transition and uncertainty were mainstays, and where calm and unruffled composure and rock-solid resolve are abstract concepts. I naively believed that Life would simply happen, that it would require little to no work from me. Not to go into great detail now, but I think, for the first time really, that the last few weeks have truly shown me what it means to be alive.
I am realizing that the reason I feel so deeply about my fellow 27 year olds dying in Iraq is because I think death and destruction are such a waste of life and creation. I am realizing that my mad-cap plan to breed business-nonprofit hybrids isn't a silly notion I picked up somewhere along the line, but it is core to who I am developing and becoming. I am a 27 year old man, and I am embracing the chaos and the shrugged shoulders and the let downs and the dreams as my life.
Life Doesn't Just Happen. You have to grab it.
I am alive, it turns out, and hurtling straight toward 28.

Good intentions...

I am a sucker. I am reborn every minute. Every second, maybe. I give
most folks a wide berth, even when I know I am being BS'd. This has
caused me a great deal of personal grief, and it has also caused me to
commit to doing certain things because I don't want to let someone
down or make them feel less of me. I just can't take it, so I give
in.
I am also a semi-shrewd internet shopper. I get great deals on the
things I purchase over the web. Hence the 5 Dozen Red Hats purchased
for my Team Zissou party that set me back about 2 cases of really
cheap beer. I write both of these things to illustrate a point.
Being a sucker can totally override your shrewdest sensibilities in a
matter of nanoseconds; you literally roll-over at the first sign of
advance of an advantage-taker. I am really trying to get better, be
more defensive, stick to my guns, blah blah blah, but I recently found
myself again on the yellow road to retreat.
I bought a drumset off CraigsList.
I have found some incredible deals on CL, most of which I have never
been able to capitalize on due to my internal sense of thrift and my
notion that something better will inevitibly come along. Which it
does, by the way, ever 2.5 seconds on CL. The other reasons that I
have rarely made CL work for me have mostly been the instances that I
have made contact (usually bing told that I am the first responder!
Oh lucky day...), but that commerce will have to wait "until
tomorrow." But every once in a while, I will connect with a seller,
talk, negotiate a meeting, and drive myself (with the drumset it was
Lake Stevens...) to simply look at the item.
Sucker. I am reborn every minute. In poker, I did the equivalent of
showing the other players my cards, and then promptly giving them my
chips. Basically, the drumset is not that great (parts of it are,
parts of it ain't), and I decide, because I like the guy and because I
need to start practicing, to buy the whole thing, without dickering or
questioning, or simply buying the parts that I want and leaving the
rest. Oh no, I take the whole stinkin' thing. And my biggest take
away from the interaction? He's selling the drumkit so that he and his
wife can have space for Foster kids. No idea if it's for real (I bet
it is though...cuz I'm like that), but in my mind and heart there is
absolutely no way in hell that I am going to complain AT ALL about my
purchase. Hell, I am doing a public service!

Sucker. I am reborn every minute.

The best part is, upon further evaluation, it's going to cost roughly
the same to bring this kit up to practicing par as it would for a
brand new kit...elsewhere on the web...

Sucker.

Anno Domine

“Our nature consists in movement; absolute rest is death.”
Pensees 641. Blaise Pascal

A little known fact about most sharks is that, unlike other species of fish, they lack the ability to keep oxygen flowing over their gills; they literally must stay in motion at all times to stay alive. Literally, absolute rest would mean suffocation. There go the prospects for opening a chain of Blockbuster Videos on the Great Barrier Reef. One rental of a John Cusack movie and BAM! No return customers. What Pascal is referring to here is a lack of spiritual, emotional, and personal movement; we, maybe a little like the shark, in seeking the comfort of a soft pillow of sterility and control will render ourselves as good as dead by kowtowing to the comfort we think we want. God, I believe, did not intend for us to pursue nothing but comfort. Comfort is Egypt, not the Promised Land. I am totally not saying that the bed I just bought is a work of vanity or self indulgence, but I am saying that flooding my life with a sea of goods and relationships that do not cause me to yearn for something greater, bigger, and truer, then I am pretty much headed for the metaphorical Davy Jones’ Locker. Sometimes, and I am realizing this after a year of unbelievable pleasure and pain, God will pry our comfortable little asses out of our barcoloungers, not because he hates to see us happy, but becasue he wants to see us whole, in pursuit of that which is greater and better than what we might settle for. For instance, I, after several years of frustration, finally took action against comfort by leaving my decent paying and easy job to a leap into the abyss- a leap that, once I finally made it, has turned out to be an amazingly well-suited place for me. I feel propelled and compelled to continue my pursuit of life! Sometimes, though, the things you must leave behind are good things, and the sense in the loss is not readily apparent; in fact, the only thing that can sometimes be learned is that it really hurts, and that is life. I lost two important people simultaneously this last year, two people who I believed were collectively my past and my future. While the lessons are not apparent, I have learned that love and life are themselves creatures that MOVE, and that seeking the safety of comfort and control will bring your path to a slow, slovenly plop on the road.

Man. What did I eat tonight?

Up up down down left right walk on water

Blessed be the gamers, for their thumbs shall bear witness to the Apocolypse.

One of my favorite passtimes, other than caffeinating myself, is observing culture- mostly pop culture, none of that fancy high-faluten villa in Cannes, dinner with the Crown Prince of Wales stuff (although if you can get me in, I am game), but your regular, everyday consume me before I get stale brand. Its even more fun, since I have the illustrious position of having a foot in both the Secular and Christian pop cultures. For the most part, I pretty much ignore the Nashville produced goo that passes as sacred; my worship albums consist of Medieval Brass quartets, Philip Glass compositions, Radiohead, and Do Make Say Think; my inspiration Blaise Pascal and CS Lewis. Not very purpose-driven of me, I know. Mostly, I believe that God can speak to us and reveal to us wherever, whenever, and however. We do have something called the Communal Worship of the Church that we do as a body of believers, and that incudes sacred art, music, singing, and ritual. Okay, I am getting way off base for why I started to write this in the first place. Okay, no more context- I saw the most ill-concevieved bit of Jesus-Junk the other day, and I must finally get off my reservations (ass) and write- Christian-themed video games. One in particualr caught my eye; Catechumen recalls the tail of a young Roman convert who must flee from the purges of the evil Emperors who inevitibly want to throw you to the lions or something. But alas! you are not alone!!! Not only do you have the faith of a pixilated saint of yore, you also have a Holy Sword! You can wave this magic sword (okay, swing down and smite your enemies) and convert them to Christianity! they do not die- oh no, that would be violent- but rather they are miraculously discipled and become titheing members of your congregation. Or something like that. Now THAT is amazing- we can go on and on about the violent images portrayed in Grand Theft Auto and Halo, but can those honestly hold the toe against digitized Heresy? GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK!!!!!!!!! Heres my idea for a Christian game- in it, you are asked to trust in things you cant see, believe in a promise of interminiable completion, and hold fast to faith, hope, and love. Think about it- The Beatitudes! Vice City. Instead of car jacking people, you have compassion on them. Instead of Guns, ammo, and Drug running, you can volunteer, join a community group, and speak up for the poor. Guarunteed the hardest game you will ever play. I would much rather bash people with a Holy Sword. Oh wait...I think we already do that.