On High Priests and a Disengagement of the Intellect

The past few weeks I have had a lot of time to reflect and digest the things that I experienced and learned this summer. In the course of this, I have been thinking a lot about worship. It’s difficult to write about worship because worship is a very personal thing; it is an intimate part of the relationship between a person and God. Yet, worship is also something that a group of believers partake in together. Therefore, though each of us (as followers of Jesus Christ) is obligated to wrestle with what worship is it is also something that all of us together, as a body, collectively have a stake in.

So, here are a couple of things I have been thinking about. Why is it that in many modern American churches we treat worship leaders as a high priest? I thought the idea of an earthly high priest went out the window after Jesus’ crucifixion when the veil was ripped in two in the Holy of Holies. I thought Jesus had become our high priest (Heb. 8:1-2) and that each of us is ourselves a priest (I Pet. 2:9-10). If I’m not mistaken, isn’t worship more than just singing songs and making music? Isn’t worship more than just going to church, praying, reading the Bible, and doing good deeds? I thought worship was about how you live your life. I thought that everything we do, everything we say, and even everything we think should be an act of worship to God. I thought that worship wasn’t necessarily about what we do, but how we do things and the spirit of our hearts (John 4:23, Rom. 12:1-2). I know that none of us will actually be able to accomplish that in this life, but it is what we should be attempting.

If this is the case, then why is it that in many churches in America we treat those who lead music as rock stars? Why is it that we refer to the time we sing songs and music is played as “worship time?” Why is it that in so many churches that those who lead music are called and referred to as worship teams, worship bands, and worship leaders?

The real worship leaders are the people who clean the church bathrooms every week. The real worship bands and teams are those who come together anytime work needs to be done and they show up to help out. Many of these people may never have sung a note in a church service. Just about all of us can learn more about worship and what it is to worship from these people than we can from people who might lead us in singing every Sunday. Yet, we ignore these humble teachers and leaders and exalt others as high priests and rock stars.

When we do this, we do a great disservice and injustice to those around us. You and I might know that worship is supposed to incorporate every aspect of our lives, but that teenage boy who starting attending your services because of the youth group at your church might not. What about the young lady who is recovering from a drug addiction and just became a Christian a few weeks ago; might she get the wrong impression about what worship is? And what about those outside of the body of Christ who attend our services? If we, who are the Body of Christ, constantly and consistently refer to worship in terms of music and if we continue to make a distinction between things that are worship and spiritual and between everything else, what are those who aren’t followers supposed to think and believe?

This brings me to the other major issue I’ve been thinking about and wrestling with. If so many of us view worship and treat it as something we just do on Sundays or when we do something musically, then why is it that so many of us disengage ourselves from our intellect when we worship? For example, there are probably several hundred praise songs written in the past ten years that have some sort of line talking about bowing down to God, e.g. “We bow down”, “All bow down”, “Here I am to bow down.” How many times have you been at a church service and actually seen someone bow down when they sing those lyrics? I think a lot of people have no idea what they are singing and are just singing because they take pleasure from it.

Not that there’s anything wrong with singing. Some of us were created to sing. I like to sing. I take pleasure from singing. I also understand that God is probably more interested in how I live my life day to day than He is in the songs I might sing to Him on a particular day. Nevertheless, it is important that when we sing songs of praise, we actually mean and do what we sing. Otherwise, our catchy musical lyrics become hollow words signifying nothing. It is a matter of consistency, integrity, and honesty. I’m guilty of this too, but I try very hard not to sing a song just because it sounds pretty and makes me feel good. When I’m in a service where we’re supposed to be singing about bowing down I either don’t sing those lines or I actually do them. If there is a line in a song that I can’t bring myself to agree with, I don’t sing it. There are those who will make the argument that what we don’t do physically we do in spirit. There might be some validity to that argument, but for the most part it is a cop out. Why sing about something you are doing before God if you don’t and won’t actually do it? What purpose does that serve? If I wasn’t a Christian and I saw someone singing a song saying, “We bow down” and no one around me was bowing down I would think to myself either “They’re a bunch of hypocrites” or “What a bunch of idiots.” It might be true that any idiot can sing a song, but that doesn’t mean you have to be an idiot to sing, especially if you’re singing to the Creator of the Universe.

I know there are a lot of Christians in America who have become disillusioned with the churches they attend and even with the Church itself. I don’t blame them. There are times I’ve felt this way myself. This probably isn’t a bad thing. We all need some disillusionment in our lives: when we are forced to confront Ultimate Reality, He shatters whatever illusions we have and are holding onto. Nevertheless, there would probably be a lot less bitterness, frustration, anger, and confusion if we refused to disengage ourselves from our intellects and actually worshiped God “in spirit and in truth.” But what do I know, I’m just an unemployed English teacher.

A Poem About Jujyfruit

Here's a poem I wrote this summer. I hope you enjoy it.
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Jujyfruit
Juicy droplets molded like plastic fingers
Manufactured on an assembly line
Into various health-food shapes:
Asparagus, bananas, grapes, pea pods, pineapples, and raspberries.
Tasting like raspberries, oranges, limes, licorice, and lemons.
Usually sold in cinema temples
As a refreshing confection
during an evening of what gatekeepers hope is mindless entertainment.
Often found annoying--
sticking to one's teeth and upper palate.
Seemingly insignificant.
But
These sugary-filled treats contain a surprise.
Inside of each there is a fierce energy.
Put to the test of fire
The jujyfruit reveals its true nature:
A flaming black heart of power,
Glowing brighter in each moment
Until finally bursting into a brilliant blaze of glory.
Sometimes I wish I had the heart of a jujyfruit.

Upcoming Movies to See.

Here's a list of some upcoming films that I would like to see in the next few months.
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THE WICKER MAN--I've seen the original version with Christopher Lee. I was able to figure out what was going on fairly early in the film. However, I'm curious to see how this update will be.

HOLLYWOODLAND--It will be interesting to see Ben Afflick's first decent role since GOOD WILL HUNTING. However, the real reason I want to see this movie isn't because of Ben, it's because it has a great story behind it; kind of a real life version of L.A. CONFIDENTIAL.

ALL THE KING'S MEN--the original novel is brilliant as is the original film (won Best Picture in 1949). This version has been delayed for over a year and is supposed to be coming out at the end of September. That doesn't necessarily bode well for the film. However, I like the book so much that I will probably see this version of the film regardless.
CHILDREN OF MEN--Out of all the films coming out this fall and winter, this is the one I'm most excited to see. I hope it is great and not a major let down.
EVERYONE'S HERO--You're probably thinking what I originally thought: "Oh, great another CGI animated picture." However, then I learned about the story line (a boy sets out to retrieve Babe Ruth's stolen baseball bat on the eve of the 1932 World Series) and it intrigued me. Not only that, but Christopher Reeve was the film's original director and this picture is one of the last things he worked on before he died.
FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS--the first of the two-film World War II Clint Eastwood set (the other is LETTERS OF OUR FATHERS) being released this year. I have the book and have read bits of it and have seen portions acted in skits and listened to parts read aloud. Not to mention some of my relatives could have fought in this famous battle. This could be the best war movie made since SAVING PRIVATE RYAN. Or it could turn into a disaster. Either way, it'll be worth the money to see it.
APOCALYPTO--Mel Gibson't latest directorial feature. Despite Mel's recent public humiliations (I still I would really enjoy hanging out with the guy), this film will probably be amazing. Filmed on location and in a Mayan language (with subtitles), the movie is about the fall of the Mayan civilization. However, if the title and trailer or any indication at all then the movie is really the book of Revelation from the Bible set against the backdrop of the Mayan society. If nothing else, it will prove interesting.

Other Films to See: STRANGER THAN FICTION (a movie with Will Ferrell about a guy who hears a voice narrating his life. He discovers that the voice is an author and somehow he's become the character in her story. He struggles to gain his life back before the author writes him out); HAPPY FEET (it's an animated movie about penguins. I love those creatures); FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION (the latest movie from Christopher Guest crew); THE PRESTIGE (if I can only see one other movie besides CHILDREN OF MEN, this would be the one); CASINO ROYALE (I am disappointed that Pierce Brosnan was fired from the film. Still I want to see how Daniel Craig fills Bond's shoes in the movie that is about Bond's first big adventure); THE NATIVITY STORY (there's nothing I can really say here, but any movie that actually tries to tell the story about the birth of Jesus correctly is worth my time to see); and NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM (Ben Stiller stars as the youngest and newest security guard at a museum hired to take over the night shift. What he doesn't realize at the time is that the museum comes to life at night).

More Quotes from Anne Lamott

The following are some quotes from Anne Lamott's book, BIRD BY BIRD, along with a few short responses. It's a great book about writing, but it's also full of some wonderful wisdom and everyday thoughts about life.
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"What people somehow (inadvertently, I'm sure) forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here--and, by extension, what we're supposed to be writing."--p. 32.

"baseball, like life, throbs with hope, or it wouldn't exist." --p. 175. I love baseball. Even the major leagues used to be as this quote says. Unfortunately, the majors have been corrupted by greed and drugs; sometimes games in the majors still throb with hope, but not like they used to.

"But then I remembered that whenever the world throws rose petals at you, which thrill and seduce the ego, beware. The cosmic banana peel is suddenly going to appear underfoot to make sure you don't take it all too seriously, that you don't fill up on junk food." --p. 218 This, this sums up a great deal of my life; I could not have said it better.



"'The world can't give that serenity,' he said. 'The world can't give us peace. We can only find it in our hearts.'

'I hate that,' I said.

'I know. But the good news is that by the same token, the world can't take it away.'"--p. 221. This is something I've known for awhile. It's a wonderful thing to know and to know it deeply within your soul. It makes the most difficult times in life not as difficult as they would be without having that soul-knowledge.


"Tell the truth as you understand it. If you're a writer, you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act--truth is always subversive."--p. 226. This is part of the reason why I write.

The Circle is Complete.

My youngest brother left for college today. Classes don't start for a couple of weeks for him, but he got a football scholarship and he has to be there early. My youngest brother and I have always been very close. I remember many years ago when I first left for college (the 1st member of anyone in my family to do so) and he was so sad. He was just a little kid and cried because he knew I wasn't going to be around. It tore at my heart, but I had and wanted to go. Eagles have to soar or they turn into geese.

After several years living in various places around the country, I returned to the area in which I was raised. I felt led to pursue a new career and it was a lot cheaper to attend the state school near the old family homestead to get my teaching certificate rather than any of the other options I had. Besides, my youngest brother was in high school and I wanted to be around to help guide him. In fact, as much as an incentive as inexpensive schooling was, it was really because of my brother that I came back. He's gone off to college now and the circle is complete.

Here's to you, Jim!

Return to the Shire.

Every read or seen RETURN OF THE KING? Near the end of the story, the four hobbits who set out together return to their home, the Shire. At least that's what it was before they left. When they return, it isn't quite home. Nothing has changed at the Shire. However, they have been changed forever and will never be the same. Journeys have a way of doing that; changing the adventurers without them ever recognizing the changes taking place. The more journeys one takes, the more one changes. From my experiences, it seems that the more travels one takes, the place that was once home seems a little less so upon each return. I think the reason for this is spiritual (this Earth is not our true home). Anyway, if you know RETURN OF THE KING, you know that at the end not one of the four hobbits ever really considers the Shire home again. Frodo travels across the sea; Merry & Pippin reside in the Shire, but spend most of their time living and visiting friends from far off lands; and Sam, good old Sam the true hero of the story, spends his life living with his heart in two places until in his old age he's finally allowed to set across the sea, too. That's kind of how I feel right now. But I don't have time to think about it--I've got an interview tomorrow and an audition on Saturday.

A Dead Turtle.

All summer we have had a turtle in our turtle tank here at the Science Center that hasn't moved much. He didn't like being picked up and anytime campers were around he stopped moving his back legs. Some of the staff members started telling kids that he had a stroke and at every animal talk the following statements were always said by campers, "You're turtle's dead" and "That turtle isn't moving." Well, I guess that turtle wanted to live through one last summer because I found him dead today. He was laying upside down on top of a rock. I was quite sure he was dead, but just to make sure I flicked him with my finger and knocked him into the water. He sank like someone who had cement boots on. I'm not sure what killed him, but it might have been all those tiny prescription bottles laying next to the rock I found him on. The coroner said it was a heart attack, but I think it was suicide.

Sianora Summer.

Even though I'm staying for a few extra days, the regular season of summer camping has come to a close. On Friday I was walking to Popular Grove (the outdoor ampitheatre here). Campers were participating in karaoke. A middle school girl was singing Vanessa Carlton's "1000 Miles" as the sun was setting behind me. Listening to the girl sing and watching the sun set, I found the moment to be rather fitting because it was then that I realized that camp was about over for another summer. I find it strange how fast the weeks have flown by. Time has seemed to have passed even more quickly this summer than in years before. It's been a good summer and I've had some amazing experiences. I'll be trying to process everything over the next few days and weeks and will hopefully have more to write then.
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TREMORS 9 is finished. It turned out to be the hilarious horror/comedy spoof that we were aiming for with the no budget and unwritten script that we had. The movie will soon be posted on internet movie sites, e.g. YouTube and IFilm so keep an eye out.

Another Parrot Story and TREMORS 9

Yesterday I was feeding the 3-footed bunny, Nibbles, in the upstairs animal room here at the Science Center. Packer, the green & yellow parrot we have, was sitting on top of Nibbles' cage. As I was putting some brocolli into Nibbles' food dish, Packer jumps on top of my head and grabs onto my hair.

All I could think about were pirates and that the reason many of them have one eye is because of their pet parrots they carry on their shoulders. "Pirates, pirates, pirates!" my mind was screaming as Packer grabbed a talon full of hair. I immediately shut my eyes tight because I wasn't going to let any bird pluck them out. Then I slowly started turning around in circles. As I turned around Packer moved from the top of my head, down to my arm (which she decided to bite and though she punctured my skin and made me bleed she didn't rip a piece of my flesh away), and finally onto a wooden bench where one of the other staff members was able to cover her with the shirt we use to carry her.

Even though it may appear that way, I don't think Packer attacked me. I think she just wanted some attention and was tired of sitting on Nibbles' cage and didn't know how else to get down.
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Last week we wrapped the shooting of a short motion picture. The movie will soon be edited and should be available on the Internet (via You Tube, IFilm, etc.) sometime soon. Be on the look out for TREMORS 9. Watch out for the worms, but remember everybody dies. . . everybody.

Did you know Wheaton is south of Chicago?

Here's a humorous story that took place last night. I attended the Pine Bluff Villagepalooza as I have tried to do for most of the summer. Villagepalooza is basically a semi-humorous way of saying "village meeting" where the campers are introduced to the counselors and other staff members in the village and where they learn the essential rules of village living. Anyway, we staff members were going around introducing ourselves, where we were from, what our favorite cheese is, who are favorite superhero is, and what Biblical character we thought would make the best cabin counselor. We get to Seth Carlburg and the conversation goes something like this.

Seth: "Hi. I'm Seth. I live just south of Chicago."

Campers cheer loudly.

Seth: "Some of you live south of Chicago?"

Camper: "Yeah. I am."

Seth: "I'm from South Holland. Where do you live?"

Camper: "Wheaton."

At that reply I started hysterically laughing for the next three minutes. I have a very peculiar laugh and apparently there are several variations to it. Apparently, each one of the variations was heard during those three minutes as Mike Zoellner so kindly pointed out to all the campers. What a riot.

Camp Stuff

Last Saturday as we were cleaning the animals cages and feeding them, Packer got loose. Packer is a green and yellow parrot. She can be quite viscious at times, but she's treated me rather decently this summer. Anyway, we wear this heavy flannel shirt over our arms when moving Packer so when she bites, she doesn't bite us. On Saturday, as I was carrying Packer back to her cage, she bit through the shirt and ripped out a small piece of my flesh on my arm. It hurt, but I was really proud of myself because I didn't throw her off or anything. I used to watch those animal shows and wonder how animal trainers could let a creature bite them and not seem to have a care in the world. Now I know.
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This week is high school week and I've been given the opportunity to counsel again. It's been going great and I have an amazing group of high school juniors and seniors. This makes my 52nd week of cabin counseling here at Timber-lee. I've spent one entire year of my life doing this. It's a great way to have spent a year.
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One of my campers this week is a camper I've counseled before. He's quite eccentric and unique, but he's a very humrous and fun-loving guy. He has a lot of issues and has had to deal with a lot of major problems in his life at a fairly young age. I love this guy. I'll call this camper Dale.

Dale says a lot of random and funny things. Sometimes the things he says make no sense, but are funny. Other times they are almost morbid, yet not quite. Below are some of my favorite quotes that Dale has said this week.

After having only been at camp for a few hours and while we were waiting to start devotions, Dale points at me and says, "Tom, I want you to start writing the alphabet backwards but you'll need a co-signer. You, Ned, be the co-signer and pretend to be a mime who has his hair on fire." It was so random and hilarious.

We were making cardboard boats to race for the tournament on Thursday morning and as we were finishing our boat, Dale looks at the boat and says, "We need to put a number 3 on here." "Why three?" "Because that was Dale Earnhardt's number. He was a great racer. May he rest in pieces." "What did you say?" "I said Dale Earnhardt was a great racer, may he rest in pieces."

We were doing word associations and someone gives me the word "flannel". I said, "Spam" (I was thinking of the old Monty Python routine). Dale says, "I hate spam. Everytime I go to check my email there's a bunch of spam in there trying to tell me how to make my buttocks more beautiful."

"I want to dress up like Abe Lincoln and wear a beard of slugs while delivering the Gettysburg Address."

"My home is the insane asylum."

"My favorite movies are Jaws and Jackass."

"I hate that song 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.' Hollywood and the media takes a song like that and blows it out of proportion so we end up with things like BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN."
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"I've hated soccer ever since I was in the 8th grade when they made me play skins."
-----Aaron Leonard
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"I've never seen Josiah Hager sleep. I don't think he sleeps. I think Josiah's a vampire or something." ---Dan Pinkhaus

Lady In the Water

Tonight I had the opportunity to see LADY IN THE WATER. It's a movie about faith and hope and perseverance. I enjoyed it immensely. It's a fairy tale set in a modern setting. Since the death of Jim Henson, there hasn't been a director (Terry Gilliam could have, but he never has) who has brought a fairy tale to the screen the proper way. That has changed because M. Night Shyamalan has done it. I love movies intensely, probably even more than I love books. There are many movies I've seen that make me think, many more that make me feel good, and a few that do both. However, even if I feel good after watching a film, it is rare that I leave the theatre feeling happy. LADY IN THE WATER made me feel happy.

Funerals

About a month ago, I went with some camp friends to get a late night snack. We were going to go to Taco Bell but the inside was closed so we went to Dominoes instead. Anyway, we were sitting there eating our food and a couple of the girls started talking about these two girls from Taylor University who were in a car accident about a month ago. One of them died and one has been in the hospital slowly recovering. It turns out the girl that "died" is actually alive and the girl that everyone thought was alive is actually dead. It's a major mix-up (and how it can happen in this so called age of technology with DNA and blood tests and all that jazz, I'll never know) and is getting national coverage. One of the girls that was talking about this made the comment, "You know when you think about who will show up at your funeral, well now she knows."

I asked, "Do people actually think about that?"


"Yeah. I've only thought about it a few times, but yeah. You've never thought about it."

I replied, "No."

I had never thought about that until last night. Last night I ended up thinking about it quite a lot. I basically reached the same conclusion I had before. I don't really care how many people show up at my funeral. I'm dead and when I'm in Heaven it will not matter to me how many people are there. Funerals aren't for the dead. Funerals are services for the living. We say we do them in rememberance and honor of the deceased and though that is partially true, it is more accurate to say we do them for ourselves. We hold funerals to bring closure to our own lives with someone. We hold funerals as a way to constructively deal with our grief. The dead don't care about that. Some of them probably yearn that loved ones left behind will believe the Truth that they rejected, but other than that I honestly don't think those who die really care who shows up to their funeral or how many people are there. I've thought a lot about that these past 12 hours and to be honest, I don't really care how many people show up at my funeral or who does. I just hope that whoever does, that the experience is a positive one that brings them a little closer to Jesus.

Indians Love Tom Varner.

Indians love Tom Varner. Why don't you?

Frustration and Desires.

About the first time I first graduated from college, I had this idea for a series of six short stories. Basically, each of the stories were going to look at a man's life at three different points in his life, but from the angle of a life lived with faith and a life lived without faith. The first story was going to be about a young man who committs suicide in despair. The next story would illustrate how that man's faith had saved him from that. The next would look at the man in his middle years and how he had grown to become a cynic with the parallel tale of how faith helped him avoid that, and the last pairing would have told of the man in old age and how he had grown into a bitter, cranky coot and concluded with the story of how his faith had helped him avoid that, too.

I am a man of deep faith. I have been blessed to know Jesus for most of my life. I have had very long conversations with God on a fairly regular basis since I was about ten. My faith prevented me from the fate of the man in the first story. Suicidal thoughts I once had, but I know that it is because of my relationship with Christ and the Holy Spirit that is a part of me that prevented those from transforming into anything more than thoughts. I know life has a purpose and has a meaning.

Yet, despite trying not too, I am afraid I am becoming the cynical young man. I used to believe and know that Bible versus such as Psalm 37:4-5 (Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this.) were true. Now, even though I feel that I know they are true, I find myself doubting that I believe that. I am a sinner and I make mistakes and foul up. Yet, I keep pressing on. I do delight in God and all that he has given me and I find myself committing my way(s) to him often. Yet, I have yet to see the things I have desired most in my life come to be. The dreams I had for the first quarter century of my existence were swept away as I was carried to a new path. It is true that those dreams have been watered with hope recently. However, these things are still buds that are just beginning to poke out of the ground. They are not a deep rooted realization, yet. As for the other desires of my heart, they seem so remote and distant that I'm almost afraid to believe that they will ever come to be.

I've never been one to say that the Christian life is easy. Jesus never promised that in this life it would be that way. Yet, I see people who do seem more blessed than others. Often these are people of faith. This combines with the constant sermons I have heard preached of how if "you just do this" God will "bless your life abundantly." I often find myself frustrated when this happens. Part of it is because of my own sin--I find myself jealous of those blessings around me. Yet, part of it is just frustration. I said I am a man of faith, but that's not really true. I still can't command a tree to jump into the sea (and I have honestly tried that before) so I don't even have the faith of a mustard seed. My faith is so small especially when I think of those giant saints in my own life whose faith might have let them command a tree to jump. When I think of those saints, though, I remember that most of them had incredibly difficult lives.

This should provide comfort. It should, but usually it doesn't. I'm a sinful creature and I want to have the good life now. I want a decent job, a wife, maybe some children, and a nice house in a nice neighborhood. When I attend my next high school reunion I want to be like my classmates who are there and not the lone outcast who couldn't even convince the girl next door to come with him so he didn't have to show up dateless again. I want to teach for a little while. I want to write. I want to get a break in show business. I want to make a mark on this world and be a sign that points to my God. But, that is the crux of the matter. All the other desires in my life are subservient to that one: to love and serve my King and be a sign that points to him. I am a man of flesh and sometimes it is so difficult to keep that central desire in focus. But, that is the key. I just wish there could be an easier way to do it instead of working it out with fear and trembling all the time.

Here's to You, Brother!

I am the oldest of four siblings. I have two younger brothers and a younger sister. My youngest brother and I have always had a very strong bond. My sister and I get along alright. However, DW and I haven’t always gotten along. From the time he was born until he was about three, everything was fine. Then we started to fight and the fighting went on until I left for college. We seemed to hate each other and sometimes we fought so violently we had to go outside just so we literally wouldn’t kill each other. We are pretty much complete opposites: I love to read, DW only reads an occasional newspaper and the tv listings; I did well in school, DW didn’t (he could have but he was too apathetic); I wasn’t a very good athlete, DW was; though I’m a hick I’m a refined hick, DW is pretty much a straight-redneck; etc. Despite these differences we have grown closer the last several years. We’ve built upon the commonalities we share and have minimized the differences (perhaps the two major U.S. political parties should take lessons on how to work together from DW and I). We still live very different lives. But, that doesn’t really matter.

DW arrived home yesterday from a week-long training session near Chicago. He leaves for special training in three weeks. Two months later he’ll be going to Iraq for a year. I love my brother incredibly. I’ve told him this, but he hates that (at least he pretends to). I’m also incredibly proud of him. He got into a lot of trouble a few years ago. I was in college and he lost his two closest friends in one day in a non-alcohol related car crash. I sometimes think that if I had been around I would have been able to keep him from getting into the trouble with the law and everyone else that he did. It took awhile for him to get back on track, but he did. He walked away from God for awhile, too. But he came back. That fills me with hope. He’s got a lot of growing to do spiritually, but all of us do. The spiritual life is anything but stagnant. Christianity is all about freedom and growth. Anyway, I leave for the summer in five days. Once I leave, I might not ever see my brother again and that fills me with great sadness; so much sadness that tears well up in my eyes if I let myself think about it. At the same time, I’m really not worried. God is guiding both our paths and wherever our journeys will take us, I know that if nothing else in the end we will meet again. So, here's to you brother! I love you and I'm incredibly proud of you.

Commencements

My youngest brother graduated last night from high school. My sister graduated last weekend from college. Over the past few weeks and in the next couple weeks to come there will be thousands of other commencement ceremonies around the country. In honor of these celebration, here are some words delivered to a high school class many, many moons ago. It was in a different time and a different era. It's author was a mature, but bright-eyed high school kid. The student who wrote this was full of wisdom, but it was a wisdom tempered by innocence and lack of experience. Disillusionments, jadings of the heart, and beatings by the world wouldn't happen until a few months later. The speech is dated, but it's core message is still relevant today. Enjoy.
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Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to tonight’s graduation ceremony.
As the class historian, I believe we represent success in several different fields such as academics, music, dramatics, and athletics. Four valedictorians, a salutatorian, and a historian represent just a few of the many dimensions of our success and accomplishments.
One of the major reasons that our class has been so successful is because we are so adaptable to change. Many changes have taken place during our lifetime. We have seen the Vietnam War end and our nation’s bicentennial begin. We have watched the Space Shuttle Challenger explode. We have seen the end of the Cold War. We have lived through the Persian Gulf War. And we have been led by five different Presidents.
However, as we have grown and matured change has also occurred within our lives here at home. We have said farewell to Mr. Stout and welcomed Mr. Dillon as our principal. We have seen faculty come and go. We fought for the reinstatement of the senior trip. And one month ago over a third of our class enjoyed our victory at Chesterfield, Missouri.
As we leave these halls tonight we will be faced with the challenges of the world: genocide in the Balkans, the fight against drugs and crime in our cities, the search for cures for cancer and AIDS in our nation’s laboratories, and more personally what careers we will pursue and who we’ll date next Friday night.
I ask of you, my friends, that as you leave tonight and begin upon the great journey of life to remember our class motto: “Remember yesterday, dream for tomorrow, live for today.”
I congratulate us the class of 1994.

I Get Tired of Eating Dirt After Awhile

On Tuesday I had a job interview. I was really excited about it because it was at a school that I really, really wanted to teach at and it was probably going to be my last chance at getting a teaching job for the fall. Frankly, I'm not a great interviewee, especially when my entire future is at stake--I get nervous and my voice fluctuates and no matter what I try I can't seem to keep it in check. Nevertheless, I thought the interview went well and that I had a good chance at the job.

Apparently not because I got a call today and was informed that they had offered the job to someone else. Language cannot express how frustrated and angry that made me.
I have sent out around 30 different applications to schools that I know have open positions. I have had 7 interviews. The number of interviews should give me some comfort because I know that most applicants aren't offered that, but that knowledge provides me no comfort.

I really, really, really, really want to have a class of my own and be teaching English in the fall. I spent 2 1/2 years jumping through all sorts of hoops, spending precious time and money so that I could get the precious certification that the State of Illinois says you have to have to be able to teach. In December, I finally got that certification and in the process became stamped and approved by the government. I've been looking for a job since December and now it appears that come August, I'm not going to have one. I've done all the "proper" steps and I have the training. I've sent countless emails and have had numerous telephone conversations. I've followed up each of my interviews with a personal thank you letter. I've spent hours scouring the Internet and educational websites. I've talked to people I really didn't want to talk to just so I could get the experience. Always looking, looking, looking. And now it appears that it has all been to no avail. Language cannot describe how frustrated and upset I feel right now. I've not only done everything everyone has asked of me, I've gone far beyond it and still I am denied. I don't know what else I can do.

I should be encouraged somewhat because it will now be easier for me to move to Oregon. But I'm not. I wanted to teach so bad. I also shouldn't feel so bad because I'm quite used to rejection. Audition for enough shows and commercials and stuff and after awhile you develop rhinosaurous skin. But it's different with teaching. I'm a great teacher and a damn good English teacher. I know this. But knowing this only makes it worse. It really shouldn't bother me, I guess, because in the grand scheme of things it might not be that big of a deal and maybe it'll lead to a better opportunity. But, you know, it does bother me a lot right now. I always try to make the best out of a situation so it can be fun to play in the dirt and role around in it, but I get tired of eating dirt after awhile.

Short Passages From Anne Lamott

"Some people think that God is in the details, but I have come to believe that God is in the bathroom."--Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, p. 161

I've discovered this myself. I have an idea for a book I want to write someday. It'll be entitled, The Annointing Is In the Bathroom.
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"But in the meantime I have learned that most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of people." --Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, p. 168

Every moment is a Gethsemane. Press the best out.

A Few Words from TO OWN A DRAGON

The following passages are from Donald Miller's new book To Own a Dragon. (p. 139-145 ). I'm not saying that I agree with it all (and I'm not saying I don't), but it's really interesting to read and think about.
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"What happens when sex is cheapened?" somebody asked.

"A lot happens. The main thing is there is no sacred physical territory associated with commitment. There can still be emotional territory, but there isn't anything physical, experiential, that a man and a woman have only with each other. Sleeping around does something to the heart, to the mind. It leaves less commodity to spend on a sacred mate. But all of that sounds pretty fluffy. Let me break it down into practical stuff. Women saying no to men, not letting men have sex with them, causes men to step up. If, in order to have sex with them, women demanded you got a job and shaved every day and didn't dress like a dork or sit around playing video games, then all of us would do just that. We all want to have sex, right?'

"Amen," one of the guys said, which drew some laughter.

"So if a woman demanded that you acted like a gentleman," I continued, "that you were able to commit and focus, then everybody in this room would do that, if for no other reason than we want to have sex. And this in turn would be good for families, would be good for communitites. Let's face it, we're guys, and too often we are going to take the path of least resistance. Many of us are the way we are because women are attracted to a certain kind of man. We may not have realized this dynamic was shaping us, but it has been. Nobody is exempt. So, when sex gets cheapened, we are getting what we want without having to pay for it. That's not good for anybody, not in the long run anyway. It's a great system, you know."

"But women don't withhold sex. It doesn't work that way any more," a guy from the back of the room stated.

"That true," I said. "Women are imitating men, I think. The presupposition is that men are right, and in order for a woman to be successful, she should act not like a woman but like a man. Thanks for the compliment, but I disagree. I think men need women to be women, and we need to be made to jump through some hoops. If a woman withholds sex until she gets what she wants, we are all better for it."

"You know," I started in, softly, "I hate this as much as you guys do. You try to take away people's sex, try to make people feel guilty or something, and everybody hates you for it. I mean you're a geek, right? And I don't want to be that guy. I really don't. It's just that my dad left my mom when I was a kid, and I remember visiting him and he always had some girl living with him, or was sleeping around with a girl half his age, and that affected me. I think my dad just thought it didn't matter, that he should be able to sleep with whomever he wanted. But what I needed him to do was stay with my mom, love my mother, and be my father. I think we can think nobody is affected by our actions, by our habits, but they are. We aren't independent creatures, you know. We are all connected. And in a family, in marriage, it's important that sex be something special, and as men, it's important we take the initiative in protecting it. Those habits start now. Greg Spencer, a professor friend of mine, would say sex is the most psychologically involving of the physical acts. Men fantasize that sex is mere biology. Yet nothing seems to affect us quite as deeply as sex when it is abused. I hope you don't fault me for saying all of this."

The great argument, then, is not whether sex is good or bad outside a relational commitment, but whether sex is for anything other than the release of pleasure. There is no scientific evidence to suggest sex is for bonding. Common sense tells us sex bonds people, but science can't go into the poetic. The tendency, when pleasure drives logic, is to reduce sex to a dry Darwinian definition, ignoring the poetry of our bodies. And this doesn't sound like much of a crime, until we remember the argument about the value of the dollar. Poetics, then, matter. What we feel about something, what we agree about for the sake of health and progress becomes critical. I think of sex this way, not only because this is the way God thinks about sex, but because logically, even apart from some sort of Christian morality, the poetic interpretation has to be upheld. --Donald Miller