Threshold of Stupidity Tolerance

 "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -Albert Einstein.


I have something called my threshold of stupidity tolerance. It is how I measure the amount of stupid which I can take at any one time before I feel the need to hurt someone. Last night it took less than 10 minutes for that tto be breached. I attended an interfaith presentation and panel discussion on woman within world religions. I enjoyed the presentations themselves and liked the speakers, even though I disagreed with them, which is to be expected since I practice none of their religions.

Having spent some time in college arguing with professors and speakers about how wrong they were to deny my naive and uneducated opinion(s), I eventually realized that I'm an idiot and should keep my mouth shut; Unless the folks who hear my words will either benefit or enjoy hearing my words. I often don't do that, but at least I've come to know that people who've spent a good portion of their lives believing or studying something will probably know more about it than me. Now I'm not certain about this, but when someone who knows more about something then you talks about the subject, when you spend your time listening to or asking good questions of them an experience called learning occurs. When someone who is equipped only with opinion and emotion wont shut up, I experience a mixture of annoyance and anger.

One of the topics which was brought up was sexuality in the various religions. I personally feel that sex is for marriage, that humans are meant to have only one sexual partner who is of the opposite gender that they will partner with in life and the raising of children produced by intercourse or adoption. Not everyone agrees with this, and thats fine. They've not lived my life and might not serve my God. However, I do expect that other people will treat me and my beliefs with the same respect, or at the least tolerance, that I extend to them. I naturally expect people to treat others with this same decency (theres something about that in the Bible, isn't there?).

There were a few ladies there in their 60's who had decided that they were free to ridicule or levy any insult or opinion they had against the woman who'd spoken. Now I've said that I disagreed with what the speakers believed, but I did respect how they presented it. The gals who attacked the speakers came from both conservative and liberal backgrounds but were very concerned with being heard, seemingly regardless of what damage they did to the feelings of the others. I'm not the kind of guy to put up with that.

My aversion to whats I call cruel stupidity comes from having practiced it most my life. I was bullied in school, and since I'm smarter than most people would find my ways of getting back at them. Usually that meant mentally or verbally tearing them apart. I've been hurt by words and have done my share of abusing with them. Because of this my opinion of someone falls quickly if I watch them publicly insult and try to humiliate someone that does not deserve it. Actually, to an extent I don't like seeing it done to people who do deserve it. I recognize that in a way this is what I'm doing here.

It's hard for me to draw the line that divides calling someone out from ridiculing them. Hopefully I'll figure that out someday. But my main point in writing this is that you, as a human, are not tasked with going through your life proving to others how correct you are by the arguments you make. Frankly, if truth is possessed by so cruel a holder I question the benevolence of the god, or gods, they serve. Such cruel criticism and attitudes from the church have driven people away from God, away from the love Jesus has for them. As a Christian, it is not up to me to argue people into believing. It should rather be my joy to live in a way that shows why Christ is a God worth following. I think that if we as his disciples were to come close to obeying what he teaches, that would be the best argument or evidence possible to prove his existence.

As always I want you feedback, especially since this blog is a lot newer in my mind than one's I've posted in the past.

More to come
PJ

It will always amaze me how being able to talk to and see a family member only increase my homesickness. I still jump at the opportunity to skype with a close friend or family member from back home. I enjoy the conversations and much prefer them to phone calls. So its not the experience itself that makes me want to be home. It's that I know there is more to experience with these people than a simply seeing & hearing them through a computer. It's better than nothing at all, but when I compare it to being home with them analyzing the simplicity out of movies, playing a game of Risk while we binge on homemade cookies, getting "powned" by my brother at video games, or sitting down to eat my mom's Shepherd's pie it makes me both grateful for the call and eager to be in the same room physically with the people I love again. 1,000 miles is instantly bridged by a picture or sound, but such a thing pales in comparison to the idea of physically with them the next time I visit Oregon (which is where most of those I'm talking about live). I've experienced something more than what I have now that tells me there will be a joy surpassing today's. I imagine that the return of Christ is something similar I've never been in the physical presence of God, but I have in my life been in situations where I know I was in his presence, in the spiritual sense at least. Sometimes it was while I was praying, reading something, or even just writing. One time that sticks out is when a friend and I were caught near the top of a mountain as a thunderstorm hit. There. I we were at almost 11,000ft with lightning flashes surrounding us and thunder booms that shook my entire being. At the time I was terrified, we both actually were but neither of us said a thing about it. Towards the end of the storm I starting to attempt to capture a mental image of what was surrounding me, at one point I realized that the experience was in the same moment both one of the most dangerous & wondrous things I had ever experienced. On the trip back down we talked about how being caught in that storm had to be somewhat similar to being in the presence of God. At some point in my life (or death) I will know for sure how close thunder comes to the real thing. I imagine that what I've experienced with God in this life is less than what I will later. Not just when I die though. I suspect as His kingdom progressively invades the earth through the hearts of his followers we will see and understand more and more about what its like to stand in His throne room. I look forward to being part of that.

Thanks for the Choice of Love

When I say to God "thank you" what I really mean is: "I'm currently in a mood of appreciation because I've had a pleasant experience". Which turns my statement into an fyi, informing the deity that I am in a good mood and want to tell him about. So it's really more of a brag than a thank you. I suppose this holds true for negative expressions too; Meaning that I would never believe now that I ever held sincere hatred for the God I serve, but there have been times when I felt as though I did. Those thoughts too, were bred from my emotional state at the time, rather than anything really pertaining to the god I'm tanking. Which is where one of my life's darker fears grows from. If my perceived hatred is not genuine, which is the strongest of my negative emotion, and gratitude is also a capricious whim; what about when I say "I love you" to God or anyone? Moods can be altered by drugs or drink, and are dependent on things like food and sleep besides. So if when I tell a family member that I love them, do I mean it? Or is it just the standard expression I use, like "how are you?" is just hello and "amen" has become a punctuation marking a prayers end? And if I cannot be certain about the genuineness of my love, which I believe is tied into the chore of my identity and worth as a human, it becomes hard to place value on any relationship or experience, even where my religion is concerned. If the Christian faith boils down to loving God and loving people, can I call myself a follower of Christ if I doubt the sincerity of? Actually yes, but fortunately there's actually a part of the Bible that helps clear things up on the matter. In the book of 1 Corinthians Paul gives a fairly fantastic description of what love is. Which is: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres(verses 4-7, NIV)". Did you notice something strange about all that? I mean, he left something out, right? In all of that there was no mention of warm and fuzzy feelings, no butterflies, references to elegant words, or even a rational explanation of why we love. It almost seems that most of this stuff goes against the emotions I experience. Love means not holding a grudge, or even keeping a list of reasons why I could. It's not overly eager to rush into things, which has somehow been tied into our views on romance so that seems strange and an unromantic. It shouldn't be too hard to find at least one emotion or cultural perception that clashes with each of these things Paul cites as characteristics of love. So does that mean that love isn't an emotion? Yep, I say that sounds about write. Its a choice, or rather series of choices that we make for the good of those we love. I don't particularly enjoy doing some of these things; I like holding grudge and am certainly not patient, but if I choose to love someone, then I'm not aloud to act on my desires. I'm to act against them. I guess that makes sense when you think of emotions as chemical reactions in the brain, and therefore part of the flesh that the Spirit is warring against (see Romans chapter 8 & Galatians chapter 5 if your not sure what I'm talking about). I'm not saying that all emotions are bad. If that were the case then we'd all have to walk around like Keanu Reeves' characters void of any qualities that make us human. I'm just pointing out that Love is not based on what your feeling or experiencing. It's based on what you choose to do. And suddenly it becomes a little bit clearer why it is I have God's love so strongly directed at me; he chooses to love in spite of how angry, disappointed, or hurt I make him (& I cant say for certain that I've ever made him any of these things. Just that if I have he still has chosen to love me). So maybe things like gratitude and hatred fall into this category as well? Things that we choose to show with our actions and words, rather than things that are merely felt. When it comes down to it, my view is that this is preferably over philosophy or theology that is based on emotion. You see, we cannot control or emotions, but we are the masters of our actions. More to come. PS. I know that God expresses emotion in the Bible and that some of my thoughts here need more developing. If you have any comments on them please leave them bellow, I'd appreciate the food for thought for when I return to this subject later. I hope you enjoyed the super bowl. -Jed

Odd Though I Am

I buy into people being works of art. My canvas depicts a rather odd,loud, and awkward 23 year old with a red beard. At least that's what I imagine most people see through a first or second glance. But in actuality, I've got a lot more to me. Most of what are called my hidden qualities are really just slightly less obvious quirks and foibles that would be caught right away in most people, which would be true for me if I was part of that demographic. For whatever reason, my Architect decided to take the places in human design that are supposed to posses cool skills like a good singing voice or hand to eye coordination, and fill them up with oddities; like an obsession with comic books or inability to sit still or pay attention for more than 14 seconds (I'm not kidding, that's actually my limit). I have no clue why that omnipotent twerp decided to make me this way, but he did. I can get more than frustrated with him, and we get into it from time to time. I've determined that its his responsibility to own up to my mistakes since he built me; you know, like how it's the mechanics fault if your breaks go out a week after they were supposedly fixed? Well here is where I run into a problem: Artist's hate cliche's, at least the good ones generally do. And I think that this architect is rather fond of putting an out of the box twist on what he makes. And I guess that makes some sense. Who wants to decorate with all the same picture? My apartment has a variety of super hero posters on its wall, and even though one of them is my favorite, I didn't want to buy only that one. It would be like putting up a wall paper instead of decorations, which I'm pretty sure are supposed to relate to, but not copy, each other. And I guess that if the architect turned artisan treats the words as he easel there is a fondness in him for related diversity among his works. If that is the case, then wouldn't the odd balls like myself be somewhere along the cutting edge? I mean, nothing against the classics, but its kinda nice to look at abnormalities with the realization that they were probably put in me for a reason. Even more so when you think about some of this guy's past works: Tim Tebow,Audrey Hepburn, Matt Thiessen, good 'ol Einstein, and Chuck Norris. This guy knows what hes doing. The greatest comfort from all of this doesn't come from knowing that I'm from the same manufacturer as all these folks, it comes from know that this God fellow, the architects more common name, seems to be good at what he does. I don't think that he would intentionally make some of us inferior to the rest, which is a very far thing from different. He seems to prefer to show off different sides of his creativity, and makes each new design in it's own way for their own purpose. When I start to think about all of this it becomes slightly more clear why I might be among the 1 of 70 boys born with a form of autism these days (for those of you who don't know, I have auspergers syndrome, which is a kind of autism). Just maybe that one thing that has caused my life more trouble in life than any other, and frankly makes me feel alone most of my day, exist within because there is a plan for it. I know that I certainly enjoy some of it's perks; like being able to take in large amounts of information in seconds and then not forget it or obsess about one thing until I've mastered it (currently that thing is beer). I am created for a purpose, and that is something I don't get to choose. It was chosen for me by the one who designed me, and therefore knows me best (read psalm 139, you'll see a bit of what I mean). I don't know much about what that one thing might be, but its there, or rather here within myself and the people around me. But what I do know (and this is among the very few things I can say with no doubt) is that who I am reflects a part of who Jesus is. I have that in common with you. It is one thing that truly matters in life. The strange thing about this commonality though, is that it makes us unique and valuable. God's pretty big I think, and fairly smart too. The differences between myself and most folks matter as little as what I have in common with them. I do not think I will ever be justly judged on a scale weighing how much I'm like anyone else. What will be evaluated is how I treat people, I feel about them, and how I use my unique design to make life a little better for them. And all of this is to say, God and I don't always get along, mostly because of me. But my individual reflection of him (and I think that I got some of his stubbornness) is a reason why I'm worth loving. And besides, what mHy imperfect eyes see as flaws may very well be the crown fashioned for me by His perfect hands. In all probability, my greatest flaw is not realizing thats exactly what they are. More to come, my fellow works of art. "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful" Psalm 139:14

A shipwrecked view on love

I saw on the news just now that there are still 15 people missing in some cruise ship that wrecked, and among them are some Americans. Of course the first thing to pop in my mind was "my oh my, we'd better be concerned because there ares some fellow US citizens amongst those who might be dead and are certainly in a position of danger!". Actually thats a lie. The first thing I thought was "I should probably keep track of the news better", cause I didn't even know a ship had crashed until yesterday The second thing I thought was "why in the hell does it matter what country these people are from?" I get being concerned if someone you know is in danger, and I'm aware that the more we have in common with a stranger the easier it is to empathize with them. But does it really matter that out of the more than a dozen people whose lives are on the line a few of them are Americans? I don't think it does. You should know, and its possible that you already do, that I consider my first and most significant loyalty is not to the United states; it is to (what I believe is) the eternal Kingdom of God. Fortunately, the two are (mostly) not mutually exclusive. As a member of Heaven's occupying force (one of the nicknames I have for the church) it is my job to do what I can to help folks, nationality doesn't really matter to much. I care a whole lot that people are in danger or dead, but thats just because their people; bearers of the imago dei (image of God). As such, it is my job to protect them. That Jesus guy I'm so fond of talking about said a few things I like to quote. Things like "Love your neighbor as yourself (taken from the Bible, book of Matthew Chapter 19, verse 19)" and "You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. (Matt. 5:43-45)" Loving your neighbor enough to understand, we just need to do whats best for the people around us. Our fellow Americans for example. But, that second quote is confusing. My enemies are people I don't like. Typically folks get put into this mental category because they have tried to or would like to hurt me or someone I care about. Emotional, physical, economic damage, whatever they choose as their target doesn't matter. I don't like them and I want their lives to be ruined by awful things. And they deserve it. So here we have neighbors & friends, and then on the other extreme enemies and foes. So far I can say that how they've treated me motivates how I in turn act towards them. But, thats not how I'm supposed to do it. Love (read 1 Corinthians 13's definition to see what I mean by love) requires action, often in a way that goes against emotion. Treat people like I want to be treated, thats kinda what what the big guy said, isnt it? Well I want my enemies to do nice things for me, and if I also am their foe maybe I should be the one to start acting that way? Most likely this will lead to me only getting hurt more and worse, but if I'm going to be a disciple who wants to be like my rabbi, shouldn't I be willing to endure punishment for people who hurt me? Nationality, religion,and certainly not race should affect how I love. Enemy or friend, God blesses them with life and rain. Arab or Englishmen, Terrorist or marine, Christian or Muslim, all mean the same to my King Jesus. To him, all of these titles translate to "loved by God". More to come

Ron Swonson as a myetaphor for church

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFWeoxrhbE8 watch that link. Now watch it again and see Ron Swanson (the guy with a mustache) as me, and the Lowe's Employee as your typical pastor (or un-typical pastor if you prefer). Oh, and instead of a hardware store were in a church. Now I, unlike Ron in the video am there not to fix up my friend's apartment but to help a Buddie deal with something. Doesn't matter what. Just make up a problem and thats what I need to help my friend with. Now, my friend is the mohawk guy (it's a Halloween episode) in this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBSv_0o6beY And the house is his life. I'm not trying to imply that I'm anywhere near as capable of fixing my friend's life as Ron is at repairing houses, I'm mostly pointing out my own arrogance when it comes to hearing other people preach. You see, after four years of theology courses and 19 years of being a Christian there are few sermons I've not already heard. On top of that, most topics talked about in church have been discussed so in depthly during my time in college that most one hour conversation only scratch the surface of what I know. This has led to me becoming even more board than I usually am sitting still when I listen to others preach. The blending of arrogance, knowledge, and a male's attention span has turned church into a conflict between daydreams and theology. Not a good thing when your part of the ministry staff. But here we come to what I think the problem is. Sunday morning services have become focused on knowledge. Which means the Christians produced by these value knowledge and belief highly. Thats not a bad thing, but Christ followers should have something more at the chore of their values. Namely, taking care of other folks. Yes, belief in Christ being who the Bible says he is is key, but theres more to it. We are meant not just to believe what Jesus taught, but are to do it too (I recommend reading the book of James, especially chapter two, and even more so verse 26). Being saved by faith is great; I love that my mistakes were taken to the cross, but if my faith stops at me being forgiven, is it really worth anything? The life of a Christ follower should be one of action caused by faith and driven by love. With the current church model, this becomes difficult if not impossible for most congregations. Because were meant to do this in community as a church. But with a preacher whose message is what the services are based off of(please don't say or think something dumb like "but their centered on Jesus". I'm talking about the structure not motive here), the rest of the members are left with nothing to do but receive knowledge and talk amongst themselves afterwords. This method leave me dissatisfied, because I think when the member's of Christ's body gather together it should be to offer an act of service. Thats my ideal anyway. More to come (on this topic especially)

Ah Starbucks

Ah Starbucks, their all the same and I love it. Now, here in Billings there are several coffee shops, though far less than I am used to having been schooled in Eugene and raised near Portland. Off the Leaf would be my favorite, because it is a lot like the ones I frequented back in Oregon. There are a few cafes that I also like more than Starbucks. However today I am at Starbucks because it is consistent and because I have a gift card. I still don't have internet set up at my house, so that means Facebook and Google are only available where there is public wify, which I'm ok with because being in public makes it much more likely that I will meet a new friend, and I could use a few of those out here. I find irony in this. At my small studio apartment I don't meet or see any new people, and I don't want to spend time there because I have no internet and little entertainment to occupy my rather hyper self. Boredom forces me down from The Watchtower (the name I've given my studio, borrowed from the Justice Leagues outer space headquarters), into a public space so I can get on Facebook and keep tabs on my friends back home. However, since I need to be in public to do this. See what I'm getting at? It's easy enough to spend hours on Facebook, even if we've read, liked, and played everything that we can, we still stay on that website waiting for a red notification to pop up in the top left corner, which is really (at least in my case) waiting for a digital reminder telling us that someone out there approves of what we do. I know my friends like me. That's why we are friends. And I love it when we can message each other or video chat on a social networking cite, it really can make my day. But when my dedicated addiction to these social mediums robs me of an opportunity to physically be around other people, its gone from something that helps keep us in touch to a thing that will prevent us from receiving any sort of touch. This has all been said before, but with where my thoughts are going as I jog these days I wanted to give a bit of information ion what I think about social networking, since that will be crucial to understanding what I have to say in my next few posts, probably. As always, more is to come. -P.J.

I wish I were more religious, in the genuine way

I wish I was more religious. Truly, that would make me happy, or at least content. Why? Because it is a beautiful thing. Now, I’m not talking about the kind of thing practiced by medieval lords or a faith that consists of simply habits or rules. That’s not what I mean. I talking about the stuff that makes me look at people with extremely forgetfull eyes that pierce skemeas and expectations so they see whats actually there. Hands that spend more time holding other peoples troubles then they do clenched. You know, like lending a couple hours to a single mom or giving a minimal sum of cash so some kid in a picture will stop looking weird with that bloated belly and skinny limbs. The stuff that changes the world through sacrifice, forgettfull forgiving, love that acts (not feels), and ultimately a church that looks a little bit more like Jesus. I am a big fan of that guy. He tends to ignore how much of a moron I am, and how excellent at displaying my faults I can be (though I do want to point out that He is in fact my architect, so I feel like he should accept at least some of the responsibility for how often I fall short). The guy made some good alcohol, spent a whole lot of time with hookers, befriended high school drop outs (those would be some of the first 12 apostles), and told certain religious leaders where they could put their hypocritical attempts at worship and spiritual instruction. He also was at least BA enough to make his own whip and clear an entire temple with it. Ultimately, Jesus was nothing like what people thought he would be. And I imagine hes quite a bit different than who I think he is. But I do know that Jesus was very religious. He observed Jewish customs, since he was after all a Jew, and followed the commandments that we read (or more likely skip over) from the Old Testament (which was the only part of the Bible in His day). When he prayed, he covered his head in a prayer showel. When it came time for a religious feast, he participated. And when it came time for him to step up as the biggest skape goat ever, he did it. Why? Because he was religious, and because he had this crazy thing called love for people that I realy don’t get (probably because I was an Resident assistant in college and worked retail for a while. Those are two great jobs to have if you want to see how much people suck at being kind, or at least polite). His prayer in Gethsane was both a personal conversation with His (and by adoption our) father and an act of religious devotion to His God (and by choice, mine). The two work together. See, when I say religious you think judgemenal, or see an angry nun, or a bunch of rules, or whatever. I see me and Jesus sitting down for Coffee or a beer and talking about my life. And I also picture me flat on my face crying and sobbing as I pray alone in my room. I think of buying Richard, an 40 some year old hblack guy I met once who was homeless, dinner. Or Sarah the cookie lady who dedicated her life to helping young men get off the street, and often gave them wonderfully made chocolate chip cookies. I sometimes think of my Granma, who I call Nana. She is religious. She prays when she wakes up and only ends up getting sleep because it interrupts her bedtime prayers. She is strong, she is kind, and loves better by how she lives than anyone else I know. She is religious because she is dedicated to God’s work and invests herself in the people around her. Nana prays because she trust God to do a better job handling things than her, and that is part of her religion. She talks about Jesus with the same familiarity she would her father, who sang with the voice of an Irish Tenner. The Christian religion to her is practiced by putting your faith in who the Bible says Jesus is, and then going and doing what Christ teaches us to do. Her faith and her religion are one. She understands that servant like devotion to the will of God is religious, and it is part of her life. If we are going to call ourselves Christians, we should at least recognize that this means we have a religion, and that religion is very demanding by todays standards. The weird part about these religious rules though, is that they exist for our benefit, to keep us out of harms way. Kinda like mom making me hold her hand at the zoo, which I hated at the time because I wanted to go hug a lion and couldn’t understand why she was so against me having what I wanted. It was of course because she loved me and didn’t want to see her son get chomped by a massive kitty. Though in my teenage years, I’m thnkfull we didn’t go to the zoo often. It is my hope that I can be part of this emerging generation’s efforts to reclaisom and redeem religion. This is not something we can do on our own, but it is possible. Jesus, after all, has already saved religion once.

I live 9:15 miles away from the place I consider home. The drive from Corbett Oregon to Billings Montana took me about 14 hours of driving, with a six hour nap and 4 gas/potty breaks. Tomorrow I will move into my own studio apartment, and will bet he only resident. I have no family and few friends in my new city, but still am happy to be here. I moved to Montana because I got a job that I like. Working as a youth pastor is infinitely better than holding down two minimum wage jobs just to pay off student loans and get by in life. Now I make a little bit more money than I did, work about half the hours, and actually enjoy what I do, which consists of hanging out with kids and talking about Jesus. Not a bad deal. Moving so far away from the ocean and so absurdly high in elevation (3.5k ft.) is a big step for me. I'm the kind of person who considered his family his best friends, especially my siblings. They all live either in LA or around Portland Oregon where we all grew up (actually we grew up in the country east of Portland, but no one knows where Corbett is so saying "around Portland" usually gives a better picture of where I'm talking about). The distance between what is familiar and where I am is nearing the greatest its ever been, and is beyond the point of my comfort. If you've not realized it, there are a lot of things which I am unsure about, and even more that I miss. the countering balance to these drawbacks is that I believe I am supposed to be here. The place I have arrived at is one which will allow me to improve the quality of other people's lives, all the while bring able to work on my personal insecurities , foibles, and general improvement. I also will be able to spend time writing and reading, the two most time destroying addictions of my life. That is all to say, I am scared, anxious, excited for, and content with where I am at in life. I expect to see myself grow and make some changes I have been hoping hoping for. One of those being updating my blog more often, so you can look forward to more of my rambling insight on things that maybe I only care about, but probably not. As always, I appreciate feedback, and more is to come. - "Pastor" (I'm highly amused by the title) Jed

Completeness

And finally it can be concluded that nothing ever surpasses completion. And it is undeniably true that all things have failed to achieve even this basic form of efficausity. Existence Is a work in progress, and that progress leads to a destination which will either provide us with a new goal to reach, or will be the end of all.

The end cannot be a location because it is the end, the nothing cannot be something. The word itself exists only so we have a name for an unknown. It’s kindred are, so I would think; infinity, never, eternity, and completely. We do not and cannot know these things because they are beyond our understandings. Which might explain why it has been tried so many times by people greater in intellect than myself to hold these things in the confining grip of understanding. To know something is to limit it.

We stare at the stars with the same eyes used to watch the ocean. Waves come in amounts I call limitless as stars hang at heights I cannot measure in volumes I would not care to count, and still I would try. Maybe that’s why things like poetry and music intrigue me as much as they do (I must apologize to the artists who sculpt, paint, dance, or so on because I am more limited than most in my appreciation for these forms of beauty).

Art is tied to emotion. Emotion, and I believe the poets are to thank, we link to our soul; and our soul is what we are when stripped down. We are beings who are drawn to the infinite not because we want to master the untameable, but because the unreachable calls to us. It is the something that adds worth to who and what we are. It is the destination. And because that destination is itself infinite it can never be reached. We simply can’t touch it with the tools that we have been given, yet allt he same the human soul will not be content willout it. So what then are we left with? Feeble attempts at philosophy, theologies of religion, self improvement, experiences of pleasure or pain, and desire.

Whatever we, the human, could once do to satisfy our hope is no longer viable, lust and want have put away hope for the time. Then what of our efforts to arrive at the destination? They are hopeless. It is my conclusion, and I have spent more time than most of my ages considering this, that it is not up to us to complete this journey.

As I’ve said, the destination calls to us. Just as our nature longs to be with the infinite, so does the destination desire for us to journey with it. So it calls us with our emotions by painting its beauty, both simple and infinite in the soul of the human.

For my part, I have concluded that humility is among the first steps which must be taken to obtain understanding. We must realize that the destination is unreachable, that the infinite is uncontainable, that the eternal will not allow itself to be measure, and that this is in part a point to the journey. It was meant to be this way

Help these hands to write

Help these hands to write the words you want my life to speak.
Make me the one who shouts when the voiceless can’t be heard.
Create in me the mind knows your heart.
Bind my hands with the strength of serving you.
Punish me with correction
that comes from love.

Empower my weakness by your strength.
Call me though I refuse to listen.
Pursue me when I run.
Be the balance to who I am.
Teach me though I learn poorly.
Stand me up even though I’d rather sit stagnant.

Show me what my distracted eyes are missing.
Illuminate my darkened soul.
Complete me where I think I’m whole.
Please fulfill me where I’m sure I’m full.

Be you
so I can be me.

Allow my life to tell a small truth
of what is you.

El Caminos and Attraction

My life has never been much of a love letter. I would like it to be, but for whatever reason this is among the unfulfilled desires in my life. I sometimes think about how awesome it would be if I were one of the sporty guys, who was built either more muscular or slimmer than myself. I would have a great tan because I’d have no problem taking my shirt off to jog, or play soccer or something. Girls would of course dig me because I was cut and a stud on the field. I’d probably also have a car that works, instead of my busted ’71 Volkswagen, and be a lot less awkward. I might know how to swing dance and be able to name popular musicians outside of country music or Ke$ha (I’m still confused as to how she got famous), and maybe I would not have such a hard time making eye contact or paying attention. I could probably even handle being touched by people. And the list of wonderful attributes fantasy-athlete Jed possesses goes on.

A big problem with fantasy Jed is that I keep comparing him to the real one, and I try to introduce us, but we refuse to get along. It seems that the real and ideal are not made to mesh when the idealistic version of our self is made from our own imaginations. That’s probably because we are not perfect, and so it stands to reason that what we create cannot be perfect. All the same, a lot of my time is spent wishing I were more like fantasy Jed. Even when I’m doing cool things like MMA or weight training, I’m forced to think of how much better I could be doing if I’d erased just one item from the “if I would have” list that makes up my past. Of course that extends beyond just physical things.

When I am most unlike the dream version of me is when I’m trying to relate to people. You see normal people don’t need to remind themselves constantly that it’s appropriate to look at someone while talking, instead of glancing around the room, and that eye contact is better than staring at where the chin and the neck meet. I do. And there are a lot of other nuisances about myself that rub me the wrong way. I can only assume that people I talk to find my behavior somewhat odd, and possibly outright awkward.

And all of these foibles seem to be magnified times a lot whenever romance is thrown into the mix. Girls seem to like guys who resemble fantasy me, and not many dream of comic book collecting novice theologians who work at Walgreens, and it would be really weird if they did. My identity isn’t reduced to those two things, but when I think about what the ladies are looking for, I don’t seem to come up with a lot of checks in the “he has this cool feature” box. And from what I know about it, which isn’t very much, dating is like care shopping. There are sports cars, which are the fantasy Jed’s. Then there are SUV’s, which are less appealing but can handle hard and rugged terrain, then the minivans, trucks, used cars, and the ever so strange El Camino. Now, all of the cars are meant for a specific kind of customer and can pair up great with what that person needs, except the El Camino.

The El Camino is this weird half car half truck enigma that is too small to be much good as a truck, and too truckish to be excellent cars. Now, it’s important for me to mention that I don’t know much about cars, especially when it comes to the engine. For all I know the clunker could be the best sudan and truck ever built, combined into one. My evaluation is based completely on what I’ve seen of the car and not on what it can do (In case your dense, I’m using what’s called a metaphor here). I have always been slightly fond of the El Camino just because the car is so ugly and odd.

When it comes down to it, I’m not a great athlete or romantic, but I am me. I am crafted for a purpose that is a heck of a lot more of a something than a El Camino can do. And who I am is not determined, based upon, or even very much connected to my appeal to the softer sex. It is who I am before God (the master mechanic, if you will). And my guess is that his evaluation of me, and I suppose you is well, is much more favorable and based on a better insight than my own estimation. I take comfort in that.

Mick D's

I find it worthy of my time to comment on the place I'm at in life. Metaphorically, that is. Locationally I'm at a table in McDonald's, regretting eating a double cheeseburger since it pushed me to the edge of today's calorie limit, and its hardly past noon. In life, I'm soon to be 23 years old with a bachelors degree and a part time job at Walgreen's, though part time has thankfully meant 40 hours a week lately. I'm loosing weight, as I'm sure you guessed from my dietary comment earlier, training in mixed martial arts, living in a sweet house with some great, if not insane, roommates, and am pretty content with the social life I have. However, this is not where I imagined I'd be after 16 some (if you count the four I spent homeschooling) years of academic study.

My biggest problem with working retail is that it allows little time to stop on the job for introspection, and I have to act nice when customers decide that displaying the emotional maturity of a toddler is appropriate. I would much rather be working in a field I studied at the collegiate level; communications or ministry. But reality and the ideal rarely intersect, and if they do I imagine it would either be lovely or boring. I'll let you know which if ever I find myself in such circumstances. All that is to say; I am thankfull for where I'm at, and especially the work I've been getting. But it's a not where I've thought I'd be at this age.

It is frustrating that I endured Junior high, which was the worst two years of my life, four years of high school, and worked (not suffered) through undergraduate school for this. Now, my growth in maturity and social abilities have been substantial, especially during college. But what good does that do me right now? I am well aware of the mindsets which usually great this question, and find them of little worth. To think of where I'm at as a waiting room truly robs today of it's value. To say that I'm not looking hard enough insults me, and if the audacious among you would suggest something along the lines of my hubris showing or that I need to be thankful for where I'm at, start paying attention.

I can't get it out of my head that I have always been meant for something more (not other) than what I am doing. Now that I am done learning in the classroom, at least for now, I ask; what could be done differently to ignite the telos in me waiting to burn? I would not be surprised if this whole time something has been in the works that I've missed, I hope that's the case anyway. But it becomes hard to not be flustered in fear of this time being wasted. All the same, I write this because I am confident that I've many peers standing where I do. A good number of folks my age are probably fine working a job so they can fulfill their purpose outside of the workplace, but I am forced to admit I am not one of them. I do have the advantage of believing in a deity, and a kind one at that. I cling to the hope that this God is working something in me that will soon make itself known, but I will have to wait and see if this hope has been misplaced.

Talking To A Coat Rack

Who ever thought you were a good idea?
Or thought of you at all.
You've too many arms, too thin a frame,
and legs that are too short to move at all

You hold my hats and coats and all,
but such a job to do is small.
Taller height than mine, you work just fine.
But talks with you are a waste of time.
But then,

If I did my job half as well as thine,
then I'd live a life so sublime.
But then what purpose now and here is mine?
What shields to warmth and roofs from sun,
can I uphold. my job when done.

What purpose great, so grand so bold.
Am I of worth or from broken a mold.
What jobs I do are only those I'm told.
A telos life yet to unfold.

My purpse will remain to stand here,
waiting for a hand on mine, to take me someplace, somewhere,
sometime.
There is a task out there that's mine.
I'll find it, and then
my fate will shine.

Sea Of Humanity

Your surrounded by a sea of faces, but only one belongs to me.
I watch you walk by and stair into the face of destiny.
A broken face worn by a broken man stops in a moment of pain to great another like it,
but not the same.

Eyes lock as I try to tear mine away from a sentence
pronounced by my lips and performed by my hand is carried upon another's back
a destination above where I now stand.
The blow brings you back to your knees as you utter in broken words what your attacker assumes are curses,
I am closer and hear your prayer.

Forced back to standing, you continue marching on towards my grave.
I follow in your footprints,
filled with blood that should be mine.
A woman to my left is crying,
men around her mock and say she has no business standing at this man's execution.

In a moment of recognition I see that she alone has a right to share this man's death.
She who had given him life
would see it bled out of him tonight.

When I reach the place I can no longer see you, but the woman to my left
is now on my shoulder as her tears seep through my sleeve
to my heart.
Her tears clear a path for us as I see you raised above our heads
with your title appropriately written above your crown.

How had I missed their hands when they fixed you to your,
to my fate.
Two who are unworthy are above the rest as they are raised besides you,
The day's light bled away as we watched you.

At last I hear you say "here is your mother"
and cry again to the one you only deserve to address as father.
I watch those who you'd just forgive
stab your now dead side.

I hold your mother and now mine as she collapses into arms, which
unlike my heart still carry strength
My mind races as my heart comes to a stop to find why.
This was not your fate
it was mine.

It would not be on that day or the one to follow that I understood what you'd done.
Three days later, I again would stair into the face of destiny,
as you look back at the one belonging to me.

You sent them to fish in a sea to rescue yours, those called humanity.

The train to Grandpa's funeral

A ticket bought online is dispensed by a machine
that, unlike the teller
is not separated from me by a sheet of glass
I board the train with a suitcase
weighing the sum of three loads of laundry and a canned coffee

Once on board seats stair at me
which hold riders who refuse to look back
A conductor passes by.
and I hand him everything he will ever need to know about me
on a unsigned piece of paper
watching as he hands it back with little interest

My name and I stair at each other momentarily
A girl my age is searching for a seat
I move my bag to silently offer her one of the few left unfilled
on this lonely train
which she refuses by pretending not to notice

my bag reclaims the empty seat next to me
I put on my headphones
to help me in the game of hiding don’t speak
The train disappears behind Jack Johnson
I text my sister. “Leaving Eugene. In Portland at eight
Talk to you then”
I look out my window as a world of sheep blurs by

where people are only talked to when not traveling to a funeral
and those who try to break down our silent walls
are the greatest offenders
of life not lived alone

Glasses

I got some new glasses a few months back. Their nice, the first pair I've ever owned. transitional lenses, and I look good in them. Any way, they help me see better and I like that.

What else is new? Well since I don't usually talk about my life on this blog. That is because I prefer to share my thoughts and not the events that I experience. I don't want to write them all here so I'll just blurb down some highlights.

Read David Hume the skeptic, and I loved it. Something about reading the thoughts of a man more intelligent than myself who was telling me that my faith was bogus made me think. I like thinking. I've lost some weight due to an attempt to get healthier and my giving up glutton for lent. Been talking to two friend's about getting an apartment together off campus next year, or possibly a house. I think an apartment would be easier though. I've watched the first 4 1/2 seasons of smallville on DVD, will be done with six by waster. I have not seen my family in awhile and I miss them. Only seen them twice since Xmas, that is not enough.

Well that satisfied my need to share some events from my life. I think I'll blog my thoughts next.

More to Come (that you might actually care about)

Friends

This last semester I received an assignment to write a 15 minutes sermon on Luke 24. Not a big deal. Then the class was asked if we were willing to share it in a one on one setting, I thought "Piece of Cake". Then the challenge; we had to give it to someone who was not a Christian. And that is when I came to the a sad realization that all the close friends I have in Eugene are Christians. Theres something wrong with that.

At my college we have an old joke that there is a bubble around campus that keeps outsiders away, which would be funny if it wasn't true. I understand how busy college life is. I'm a pretty good example of someone who has a habit of over committing, but I don't understand why we feel good about ourselves as Christians when most of our ministries are focused internally. There are plenty of folks at our school who aren't Christians. Considering the narcissism that we (here I could just as easily write "I", and would if I wasn't trying to blame my issues on someone else)display it's not hard to see why "they" have not become "us".

That takes me back to my point for writing this. Most interactions I have with people off campus are me buying things. Which, unless you count coffee, I don't do very often(Though I do frequent the Starbucks near campus enough to know the names of the baristas.) I don't participate in outreaches often, mostly because I don't like them very much (A topic for another time). I guess what eats me is that it has become so hard to relate to non and pre-Christians. Every day I can expect to have several conversations about God, and if I'm lucky will even get to argue theology with people (I love telling people that their wrong). I've grown much as a person and a Christian because of these, and that's great. But how much is Christ a part of my life if I no longer desire to spend my time with kind of people he chose as his friends?

When I read my Bible, which doesn't happen as often as I'd like, it impresses me how messed up Jesus' friends were. Look at who he chose to be his disciples. We have Simon who was a Zealot, known for their hatred towards Rome. Then there's Matthew the tax collect, a profession associated with dishonesty and greed. Then there's Peter, who in his own words was a sinful man. Not to mention that Pete and a few other disciples were fishermen. If you've never been to a port city before, sailors aren't the cleanest folks around. Then we have the prostitutes, beggars, demon possessed, and lepords he would heal and then invite to become his followers. Many of them were gentiles too. Today's equivalents to these would be our panhandlers (Bartimaeus), sluts (John 4), and the car repo-men (zacheas). and these scumbags were were Jesus' friends.

I should mention that each of them was also his friend before they made the decision to follow him. Makes me think that belonging does come before believing. I hardly have any friends that don't already follow Christ. So the kind of folks Jesus would hang with are way out of my comfort zone. I don't even like most Christians. If you doubt me on that just go read a history of my Facebook statuses. I don't always say nice things about the church.

So here I am, a third year ministry student who doesn't know how to interact with the secular world, but doesn't like living in the Christian one. It's a shame that the two are so far apart. I'm not sure how often the two interact, but it's not very often in my life. Whenever I talk with someone who does not believe in God I have no idea how to carry myself. I don't want to offend them, but I also feel the need to tell them of my friendship with God. I'm not a great friend to him or even people in general, but if I could just get folks to see how my relationship with Jesus is helping me change that I think they might understand why I've chosen to believe. But I don't think that the goal of our friendships should be to convert people to Christianity. If it is we'll miss out on the joys of relationship. Instead we should try and love people like God does.I suppose that's why the rejects followed him; Jesus sincerely loved them. It's what has kept me believing.

I think that this would be a good way for me to deal with Christians too. Maybe they would annoy me less if I loved them more. Or maybe not, but at least Jesus and I would have a little more in common. I think it helps friendships grow stronger when you have a lot in common. Either way, what I am asking God for this Christmas is that my heart will grow three sizes this year. And that my eyes would start to see people a little more like he does. Though I suppose that these two go together; the more I love someone the more I will see them as God does, and the more I view them like he does, the more I will love them. It's not a bad gift to put on my list, don't you think?

More to come
-Jed

Worship Theology

This is something I wrote almost a year ago. Enjoy


Humans were created to Worship God. I am a human, and therefore exist to give glory to my creator. Now the method of achieving this purpose changed somewhat over the course of my life. As a kid I thought that praise and worship was something we did in Sunday school. When I had grown a little older I began to realize that it was much more than that. It was a way of life. At some point before I entered middle school I started to think about how I worshiped God. In High school I thought I had figured it put, and when I entered college I began to question the effectiveness of my attempts at doing this. I realized that the ways in which Christians can praise God extends far beyond my own methods to worship.

For much of my life I frowned on liturgical styles of worship. I looked at churches that used liturgies and criticized them for using tradition and ceremony as a means of avoiding an encounter of God. I would look at the prayers they read and ask how they could possibly use words written by someone else as a means of telling God what they wanted or felt. Then at some point this last semester I realized that I used prayers written by people I would never meet to intensely worship and encounter God. I call them praise songs. My critiques of liturgy came from a lack of understanding of what it meant, and the assumption that my style of praise was the right one.

Until last fall I had never attended a liturgical service. When I did it was an Eastern Orthodox service, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I found that the icons, incense, chanting, and liturgies made it easy for me to focus on the holiness of God. My mind that is so easily distracted could find no means of avoiding the message of God’s sanctity. This last semester I was able to learn the symbolism and meaning beyond some of the specific acts that are performed at these services. Understanding what was going on made the impact of the service so much deeper. I realized that I am not comfortable with things I am not familiar with with, and so I made false assumptions about the forms of worship I was not used to.

I have realized over these past months how important it is for us to understand what we do in church. Many of the songs my generation is familiar with are easy enough to comprehend, but they become so much sweeter on my lips when I realize what is behind the words. The stories of why an author wrote the words they did give the songs meaning beyond what the average worshipper may perceive. The song Amazing Grace was written by a man who dealt in the slave trade. When I learned his story I began to see how deeply he must have felt about the words he wrote. Liturgy can be the same way.

Communion is a form of liturgy, at least to me. Most Christians that have been attending church on a regular basis know the meaning behind it. At the last supper Jesus explained to his disciples that he was about to die for the sins of all mankind. Then he told how the bread represents his body and the wine his blood, then Christ gives the instruction for us to take the communion meal as a means of remember his life and the sacrifice he paid for us. Without this understanding, communion is just grape juice and stale crackers. Once I began to understand that most liturgies have a deep and powerful meaning behind them I started to like them and appreciate them for what they were; Acts of worship and expression of our lo0ve for God.

Much of what I have come to believe about worship and how we should do it comes from my belief that it is not how we worship God that matters, but why. The ways in which individual believers give God praise varies depending on the person. Everyone is created uniquely to reflect God’s perfection. No two people are the same. It then stands to reason that the ways in which we worship God are as also diverse. The circumstances someone is in can also affect how they choose to praise God. Where a believer is, how old they are, how they are feeling, and who they are with someone all influence what style of worship is most appropriate for their situation. Not all worship is done through ceremony, corporate praise, or within the church walls. In fact I would make the case that most of our offerings to God should take place away from church buildings during everyday life.

Within Christian culture there are disagreements on how we should glorify God. Some denominations insist that a capella songs are appropriate since the New Testament church sang that way. Others claim that the Holy Spirit must show up and manifest itself in the church through spiritual gifts, specifically the gift of tongues. some want loud, care free singing that uses multiple instruments and closely resembles a rock concert. And there are many other forms of praise and worship that a denomination or congregation may feel is more holy than other forms. My opinion is that the best way to worship God is the one that allows for a Christian to express themselves with honesty . If liturgy allows me to tell God how great He is, I should praise him with liturgy. If singing classical hymns enables a believer to see God’s glory, they should sing Him a Hymn. If silent meditation, thinking on what God is doing in your life or how awesome He is, draws your focus to Him, then do that. True worship is less about the method and more about the meaning.

Throughout the course of my life I have gotten the opportunity to participate in prayer meetings, Bible studies, Christian rock concerts, revival tent meetings, personnel struggles, played on sports team, and had many relationships with close friends and family. All of these were opportunities to give God glory. In some of these situations I was more successful at accomplishing this than others, but all of them gave equal opportunity to glorify God. We were not made to praise Jesus only when at church or while around other Christians. I believe that God desires for us to be praising him every second of our lives. However we are all sinners and do not follow His will perfectly, because of this some of our worship is repentance. Admitting that we have sinned and asking forgiveness invites God to begin to heal us, and restore us to where we are supposed to be. There exists no circumstance in which the opportunity to worship is completely removed from us.

Worship is not meant to be kept behind church doors. If a Christian’s praise is limited to only their time spent at Christian gathering, they do God a great injustice. He wants all of us. When I look at everything that he has done for man, from creation and the Garden of Eden, to His covenant with Abraham, to the laws given to Moses, His shepherding over the nation of Israel, up to the coming of Jesus I see the action of a God that wants to be involved in our daily lives. IN the time of the Tabernacle and the temple it may be true that God’s presence was most seen when he appeared in the Mercy Seat at the time of sacrifices, but the offerings themselves were in response to the sins of he Hebrews done outside of the temple in their daily lives. He is concerned about what we do with every moment of our time, so every moment of our time we should be concerned about pleasing Him. Which is another way of say giving Him praise.

Most of the time we hear someone talking about praise and worship, we Christians tend to refer back to pleasant experiences, or something that God has done which makes us happy. Jesus loves to share in our joys, but I am left wondering what happens to our opinions on praise when things go to hell in a hand basket. Some of the times on my life when I have most honesty expressed my love and appreciation for God have been some of the lowest points in my life. When things get hard or are situations are far beyond our ability to control, it is not easy to sit down and tell God how thankful we are for Him allowing us to be where we are. When we are honest with Him about what we are feeling, expressing our confusion and pain we are admitting our own weakness and need for His strength. Troubled times give us the ability to tell God how great He is despite our circumstances. Like in the book of Job, or when Jesus was praying in the garden of Gethsemane. God made us. He knows that we will not always feel like telling Him how wonderful He is, but He still wants us to acknowledge Him as lord over our lives.

Christian worship is so much more than Sunday mornings singing and sermons. It is our call to live our lives in ways that are pleasing to God. Acts of evangelism, helping the poor, forgiving those who hurt us, denying ourselves and refusing sin, hurting with those among us who hurt, celebrate our individual gifts, follow God’s commands, caring for our family, and anything done as an act of love is what we are called to do. If what we do is centered on and driven by love for our father it is a form of worship. We can be misguided and wrong in what we do, but He is capable of correcting us and moving us closer to Him and within his will. That’s why we call Him God. Proverbs 3:5-6 says “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.(NRSV)” I understand these words to say that if our goal is to honor God in what we do, even if we don’t do it right, he can and will use and accept it as worship.



More to Come,
Jed

Tonight I got back to my appartment and was welcomed by the discovery that my to do list was completely checked off. So I've decided to use my spare time to blog. First I'll give you a heads up what to expect from me.

I don't know how often I'm gonna be able to post, but when I do I'll pretty much be saying whatever is on my mind at the time. So you might hear how my day went, or what I'm learning in class. I could talk about friendships or share some funny stories. Me being me, there will inevitably be some of my thoughts on theology and how God is active in my life. If I can work up the nerve I might even post some of my poetry. Which not too many people know that I write, but I do. I also don;t care much for grammar or spell check, so if you care a lot about either of those, sorry.

So what to talk about today? I'll start with a quick run through of whats going on. For the last four weeks I've been in a sort of a funk. There is not single reason why, just a long compilation of what would normally be mundane events. Classes have not been teaching me much, preaching being the exception. I have been swamped with homework that doesn't seem to enhance my education, and have forgotten what it feels like to get enough sleep two days in a row. All that being said, life is good.

A couple of old dreams were recently remembered, and it seems as though they may now be obtainable in the not too distant future. The 1st and grander of the two originated in my childhood imaganeerings. The house I was raised in had some woods behind which served as the play and battle ground for my siblings and I. When I was the only one out playing I would take myselft anywhere I wanted to go. Medieval Briton, Normandy on D-Day, or Little Round Top during the Battle Of Gettysburg. Yes all where battlefields, but I'm a boy. So what did you expect? Age forced me to eventually grow up and quit conquering the world in my back yard, but the desire to travel it has never left me. Always being present in the back of my mind, being rediscovered every time I travel or hear stories of someone who is. The other is to write. Doesn't really matter what for, so long as I get to remind myself what it feels like to see thoughts on paper, or as is the case with blogs, in pixels.

The most recent remembrance of my dreams happened in chapel as I listened to a woman from Youth With A Mission (YWAM) . She has been doing a series here at school this week, and tonight was focused on sex trafficking. I got angry. Not just at those who exploit those forced into prostitution, but also at myself. Why aren't you doing something? was the question I kept asking. Towards the end of the message the question had changed to what can you do? My response was something to the effect of "not much, I'm only a ministry student". But so where the disciples when Jesus sent them out to change the world, in fact I think they were younger than me.

The idea of working with a group like YWAM ministering outside of the United States actually make my heart beat faster. I don't know what kind of seeds are being planted in me right now, but I can look back on the last two and a half years of my life to see that much preparation has been giving to preparing my heart for them.

More to come
-Jed