News From Iraq (w/ subtitles)

I'm sorry, I don't care which side of the aisle you find yourself on when it comes to the issue of Iraq, but this is just WAY to funny not to pass along [HT: Jollyblogger]

How People Get Here

It's always interesting to look at what Google search queries bring people here. Here's an example from the past day or two...

• is it lust to desire a wife - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust-rest-of-story.html
• i crave his attention advice sexual fantasies - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust.html
• community buzz words - ../2006/01/postmodern-buzz-word-community.html
• favourite bridget jones quotes - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
• do christians need to give up everything - ../2006/03/how-not-to-do-youth-ministry.html
• bonhoeffer quotes life together - ../2005/11/thinking-about-life-together.html
• favourite movie quotes - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
• dimples of venus - ../2006/03/dimples-of-venus.html
• you don't eat no meat? ok i'll make lamb - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
• dimples of venus - ../2006/03/dimples-of-venus.html
  
• favorite movie quotes - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
  
• finding fulfillment in relationships - ../2005/10/finding-fulfillment.html
  
• sitting in a 3.8 metre sea kayak - ../2006/02/one-of-those-days.html
• sexologist - ../2005/12/susana-sexologist.html
• luther covetousness - ../2005/04/sanctification-by-faith-2-of-3.html
• how to overcome lust - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust-rest-of-story.html
• mormons and being god - ../2005/05/mormon-christology-q1-being-of-god.html
• ktisis - ../2006/02/kaine-ktisis-new-creation.html
  
• christian men deal with lust - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust.html
• dealing with lust young people - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust.html
• favorite movie quotes - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
• lust for wife too far - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust-rest-of-story.html
• dimples of venus - ../2006/03/dimples-of-venus.html
• sexologist - ../2005/12/susana-sexologist.html
• drsimrak - ../2005/02/evangelism-sucks.html
• spanglish movie quotes - ../2005/03/favorite-movie-quotes_28.html
• men dealing with lust - ../2005/07/dealing-with-lust.html
• gnomey - ../2006/09/adventures-of-gnomey.html
• what do sexologists do - ../2005/12/susana-sexologist.html
• grace point church missoula - ../2005/04/what-church-is-all-about.html

So there you have it - lust, sex, movie quotes, and those darn "Dimples of Venus" (that one's a regular recurrance). Interesting. What does that say about our readers? And what does it say about me? Hmm...

It's also interesting (and a little puzzling) to note that even though we have a fair amount of traffic - 30-50 unique readers a day - hardly anyone leaves comments. Which makes you wonder, are these real people? Do they just say "What the heck is this?!?!" and move on, or do they actually read it and consider? Not sure I have any answers here, but it's interesting to consider...

Dreams of Seeing

I am not sure of the precise moment I died, but I remember well the shock that followed. There was none of this "fade-to-black-followed-by-nothingness"; on the contrary, I could still see.

That in itself might seem quite surprising - after all, how can you see when your eyelids close? When the lifeblood stops flowing? When neurons stop firing? When riggamortus sets in? Just like that, a lifetime of sinister hints and ominous foreclosure notices ("oh, my aching back!", "oh, my balding head!", "I'm not as young as I used to be...") suddenly come due with a vengeance. Decay and Decomposition show up for dinner uninvited, and they will not leave until you're finished.

Of course it probably should be surprising. How can you possibly "see" when your eyes cease to function, when your body gives up the ghost and finally expires? Yet for some reason, the scientific incongruities did not trouble me in the least.

(Ok, I admit it - I've never lost a lot of sleep over unsolved math problems or inexplicable phenomonological events. But I suspect I'm not alone. I mean, we know they're important, theoretically speaking, but most of our scientific facts are so sufficiently detached from "real life" that it doesn't really bother us that much to suddenly discover they were wrong. After all, how many of us really care about global warming? When it's hot, we worry and fret; when it's cold, we laugh it all off; and if only our favorite politician would get elected, things would work out in the end. Now if I could just afford one of those new HDTV flat panels! Damn the price of gas these days - it makes it impossible for a guy to get ahead...)

We are people of the moment, and truths which cost us little are easily discarded. So it was with me - I realized I was dead; I realized I could still see. Neither of those surprised me in the least. No, what actually surprised me was the quality of my sight. Not only could I still see - but I could see as I never had seen before.

Now, I have had terrible vision ever since I came down with scarlet fever as a child; remove my glasses and I was blind as a bat (no wonder I got stitches playing baseball in 3rd grade - I couldn't see the ball until it was less than ten feet away). It was quite obvious now, though, that I no longer needed glasses - they were still laying on my prostrate from, sprawled over there upon the ground; and I, standing over here, could see like I've never seen before.

It wasn't simply a matter of improved clarity or definition. True, I could see a whole new array of details, like when I first got glasses in the 4th grade: "Holy cow!!! I had no idea people could see like this! Whoa..." This was certainly like that, only much stronger and with no headache an hour later. In fact, I felt like I had just gotten over a headache, a nasty migraine, and I could finally see clearly again.

It was rather like awaking from a spell of color blindness to discover whole range of colors, hues and tones which I had never before known to exist. The Indian Paintbrush beside the trail was simply screaming - vibrant, stunning, glory! The mountain grass surrounding it, pulsating like moss beneath the water - drowning, breathing, alive! The granite backdrops, bleeding ochre and rust, mixed with flecks of gold and diamonds, sparkling in the afternoon sun - once a molten river, now frozen stiff, impassible.

The whole scene looked like a watercolor canvas, before it dries, that mystical moment when the colors come to life and go dancing of their own accord across the paper. This is what the artist yearns to capture, and yet it never lasts, it always dries and fades; and there I stood: not gazing at a painting, but standing within it, the source, the inspiration for all paintings, the place only the best of artists ever sees, and even then only in his mind's eye - colors swirling, beauty unleashed, creation mesmerizing. (No, I did not pass away while nibbling hallucinogenic mushrooms, for those who are wondering).

My other senses were similarly affected. I suddenly realized what it would have been like to be born a dog, to be able to read scents like the pages of a book - earth and bark, grass and loam, deer and elk; over that way, the hint of mountain grouse; over this way, the smell of bear, blood, crushed berries. All this in multicolor, like I had never smelled it before.

The same was true of sounds - I could hear the winds in the pines and the grass; the timeless drip of water on stone; the rustling of willows; the whines of frightened cubs. Of course, I could have heard all those things even when I lived. Now, however, I could hear much, much more - pine needles stretching, greening, falling, drying; sunlight drenching rocks, laughing as it jumped of water to dancing nimbly on aspen leaves. I could even hear lichens growing (If ever you die, be sure to listen for it).

All told, a caucophany of input, yet with no hint of sensory overload. But even this seemed surprisingly unsurprising. I remember thinking (how does one think without a brain, anyway?) that it was not so much as if my senses had been infused with some new capacity, but rather as if some sort of blinders had been removed. It was not so much as if my physical eyes had allowed me to see, rather, they had actually prevented me from truly seeing all along. And now that they were gone, I could finally see as one was really meant to see.

That word 'meant' is important, for here was the part that was truly surprising. I suddenly discovered that not only could I see the details as never before, but now I could see the meaning of things as well. I'm not sure of the 'how' or the 'why' (more of those questions that don't bother you once you're dead) - I just knew: I knew what things meant, and I knew that I knew. Meaning was everywhere - not just in death, but in every inch of my life as well. I was surrounded by meaning, and had been all along - I had just been utterly blind to it.

Actually, blind is not quite the right word here - even as I thought it, I realized the term to be ultimately inappropriate. No, the problem was not my eyes, as if they were somehow defective. On the contrary, the problem was me. My eyes were simply following orders, showing me what I wanted to see, suppressing what I didn't. I had not been blind in my living - it was much worse than that; I had been willfully self-deceptive, and now in retrospect it was clear that I had known it all along, even in spite of my best attempts to convince myself that I was neither. That was the part of death which I found so surprising. And terrifying, because of what it meant.

With that realization, I awoke to find myself lying in that same mountain meadow, stunningly beautiful, yet strangely faded in comparison to what I had just experienced.

It is not often that one dreams of seeing.

Week 12

Jeremy Huggins is writing again, this time to his unborn child:

I read today that you can now open and close your fists, like miniature hearts budding on your arms. You will certainly hear things that will make you close those fists, make you want to strike out, but do not confuse your enemies. As with your heart, keep your hands open, your ears, and you will hear this: what angers you is not, finally, your neighbor, but the very thing that angers that neighbor, that the world is deformed, infected with shame.

The whole thing is short, beautiful, and very much well worth reading. I wish I could write like this. Go read it. And then let us all think about what we are saying to our own children...

Casual Sex is a Con

Ran across another very interesting article (amazing what happens when you catch up on blogs), this one called Casual Sex is a Con, by Dawn Eden. Here's a snippet:

But in a wider sense, losing my virginity, far from being the demarcation between past and future, was just a blip on the continuum of my sexual degradation. The decline had begun when I first sought sexual pleasure for its own sake.

Our culture — both in the media via programmes such as Sex and the City and in everyday interactions — relentlessly puts forth the idea that lust is a way station on the road to love. It isn’t. It left me with a brittle facade incapable of real intimacy. Occasionally a man would tell me I appeared hard, which surprised me as I thought I was so vulnerable. In truth, underneath my attempts to appear bubbly, I was hard — it was the only way I could cope with what I was doing to my self and my body.

The misguided, hedonistic philosophy which urges young women into this kind of behaviour harms both men and women; but it is particularly damaging to women, as it pressures them to subvert their deepest emotional desires. The champions of the sexual revolution are cynical. They know in their tin hearts that casual sex doesn’t make women happy. That’s why they feel the need continually to promote it.

(click here to read the whole thing)

Reminds me a lot of some of the things Lauren Winner has been saying (quick links).

It also raises a question I'd like to sincerely ask any gays/lesbians who might stumble across this blog - is it just me, or is the gay community obsessed with sex? I ask this because I want to better understand the homosexual community here in Missoula - what are there hopes and dreams, fears and desires, what it might look like for a church to actually serve them well? And so I've been reading their newspapers, seeking to talk w/ folks who know that scene, etc. And it just seems to be much more prominent than in non-gay publications, conversations, etc.

This might simply be my own naivete; these same elements are certainly present in the heterosexual scene (albeit in a more under-the-surface, taken-for-granted kind of way) - so please don't mistake this for a homophobic slam. I'm just curious if this is indeed a contour of the gay culture, or whether its merely a reflection something indemic to western civilization as a whole. Would be interested in your thoughts on this...

Another Perspective on Illegal Immigration

NewWest has become one of my favorite blogs of late - it's all about stuff that's happening in the west, up and down the Rocky Mountain Range. This article here provides an interesting perspective on illegal immigration, along with some very nice photos. Worth checking out...

[Addendum: speaking of NewWest and photos, here's another article with some great photos, both by Marion Dickinson]

Extremists

"So the question is not whether we will be extremists,
but what kind of extremists we will be"

- Martin Luther King, Jr., Letters From a Birmingham Jail
(Do yourself a favor and go read the full quote here)

Hollywood Beauty

All those Hollywood stars must have been blessed with natural beauty, right? Actually, it's not nearly as natural as you might think - evidently many stars and starlets get all kinds of "help" from tape, airbrushes, and a whole lot of other stuff, all just to look the part. Wow. Interesting stuff.

Community as a Privilege, Mission as a Call

From Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together (p 17-18):

It is not simply to be taken for granted that the Christian has the priviledge of living among other Christians. Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God.

So the Christian, too, belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes. There is his commission, his work.

"The Kingdom is to be in the midst of your enemies. And he who will not suffer this does not want to be of the Kingdom of Christ; he wants to be among friends, to sit among roses and lilies, not with the bad people but the devout people. O you blasphemers and betrayers of Christ! If Christ had done what you are doing who would ever have been spared?" (Luther)

...

So between the death of Christ and the Last Day, it is only by a gracious anticipation of the last things that Christians are privileged to live in visible fellowship with other Christians. It is by the grace of God that a congregation is permitted to gather visibly in this world to share God's Word and sacrament...

Maybe we should all bitch a little less about the church, and thank God a little more for those delightful sinners whom God graciously places alongside us, naming them saints and calling them his children. This whole church thing - with all it's warts and prickers - is actually a privilege.

Likewise, we must also consider more seriously our calling as Christians to live in the midst of the world. I sometimes wish the Reformers would have gone on to identify a 4th mark of the church - true churches should be characterized by believers going out of the church into the world, and by unbelievers coming out of the world and into the church. This whole church thing - for all its holy piety - is fundamentally a call to be missional, to engage the world, just like Christ.

Today At The Mission

I already mentioned this over on the Missoula Project site (along with some additional thoughts on why its so hard to describe what kind of church we'd like to plant), but I thought I'd link to it over here as well.

What does it mean to really be a Christian? From the 'Following Jesus' Manifesto from Today At The Mission (written by someone who lives / works in a homeless shelter) [HT: Ryan K]

1. Stop talking about Jesus. Just stop. If we loved the people around us half as much as we say we love Jesus the rest of this manifesto would be entirely redundant.
   
2. Live a secret life. Invest the time, effort and vulnerability necessary to delve deeply into the scripture and prayer. Spend long periods of time in stillness. There is no shortcut to this, there is no other way. Without a deep and secret life we soon find ourselves talking about Jesus instead of being like Jesus.
   
3. Stop pretending. I'm a Christian, and I suck. So do you. Let's get that out of the way, shall we?
   
4. Give more than you get. There will always be more than enough.
   
5. Be present for those around you. Following Jesus has nothing to do with your work, your resume or your income. In fact, nothing that matters does.
   
6. Treasure broken-ness. Our broken places are sacred spaces in our heart. Honour them. Value them. In doing so you love the unlovely, publicly declaring the beauty of God's image in everyone. Greet the broken with comfort and cool water.
   
7. Throw a party.
   
8. Know Jesus well enough to recognize him on the street. This is rather important, because he can always be found on the street - and he usually looks more like a pan-handler than a preacher.
   
9. Accept ingratitude and abuse as a fixed cost. Embrace them, and then go the extra mile.
   
10. If you follow Jesus, you will anger religious people. This is how you will know.

Strong words. Yet this is a snapshot of the Christian life that resonates with me. I might not agree with all of these points, or put them quite this way; Imight want to add a few more or nuance them slightly - but on the whole, this is the kind of Christian I'd like to be here in Missoula, and this is the kind of church we hope to plant.

space debris over denver

this is breaking news and you are reading and seeing it first on see life differently. my dad actually saw this on his way to work this morning racing over denver:

watch video

[csc addendum: turns out it was a spent Russian rocket booster. Cool...]

C. S. Lewis on Knowledge of Ourselves

I come back to St. John: 'if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart'. And equally, 'if our heart flatter us, God is greater than our heart'. I sometimes pray not for self-knowledge in general but for just so much self-knowledge at the moment as I can bear and use at the moment; the little daily dose.

Have we any reason to suppose that total self-knowledge, if it were given us, would be for our good? Children and fools, we are told, should never look at half-done work; and we are not yet, I trust, even half-done. You and I wouldn't, at all stages, think it wise to tell a pupil exactly what we thought of his quality. It is much more important that he should know what to do next.

- from Letters to Malcom: Chiefly on Prayer

hand over the animals!

i came across some pretty amazing art today. this guy is an italian artist named guido daniele who specializes in body painting. he was commissioned to do a bunch of animal art and he ended up choosing human hands as his canvas. they are very cool - check them out when you get a chance, but beware that there are nude body paintings on his website as well - he is painting in europe, after all.

this one is my favorite.

Psalm 57

Thinking about the opening verses of Psalm 57, penned nearly three millenia ago:

Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,
till the storms of destruction pass by.

I cry out to God Most High,
to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
He will send from heaven and save me...

Here is David, crouching in a cave, fearing for his life; and here am I, sitting in a coffee shop, working on my second cup of joe.

We seem so far apart, he and I, and yet somehow, miraculously perhaps, our lives are still connected, intertwined. The sons of men are fiery beasts (v 4) - they were then, they are still today. David's story is my story. His foes are my foes.

This is encouraging yet terrifying, both at the same time, for if God was willing to comfort the Man-Who-Stole-His-Heart by smiting him, by making him walk through the valley of the death shadow, what might lie in store for me?

It's interesting to note that David doesn't ask this question. He doesn't focus on the "why's"? He doesn't pull a Job and go looking for reasons. Maybe that's because someone in his shoes needs help more than he needs explanations. His response is interesting in several ways.

First, David knows he needs mercy: don't give me what I deserve, God! Why not? Because I am making you my refuge. I am clinging to you. Hiding in you. Counting on you. I am making you my cave. Don't let me down!

David stakes his claim not in what he has (or hasn't) done, but rather in who he is - a simple man making God his refuge.

At the same time, David knows that it's not all about him: God has a purpose, a plan. He lifts some up, he puts others down - the Lord gives, the Lord takes away. He is in control. He does what he pleases. He answers to no one. David is but dust.

And yet, and yet... God has also promised. He has promised David a throne; he promises us a kingdom, with hearts like David's. He has bound himself, by himself. That's where David's hope lies: a) I'm trusting you, b) you promised... c) now come down here and save me!

That's the good news of the gospel, isn't it? That the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is for us, that he is not far away. That he is a refuge for those who seek him. That he HAS come down to rescue us, that he is alive and well and working among us, working to fulfill all his promises to us.

This is why Paul can say that all the promises of God find their yes in Christ Jesus (2 Cor 1:20). Because he is the answer to David's prayer. He is the one sent from heaven to rescue him, and to rescue us.

Just as God has answered specifically, so too we must respond specifically - a generic hope in some generic goodness of God is no longer enough. We need a specific response (both personal and corporate), to a specific God (the God of the Bible), in regards to a specific answer (the crucified-and-resurrected God-man, Jesus Christ).

Nothing less will suffice.

Boise State Bucks Sooners

Just in case you missed it (and IF you missed it, you missed one of the best bowl games ever played - yes, it really was that good) - here's a link to highlights from the Boise State win over the Oklahoma Sooners last night. Do yourself a favor and watch it. Better yet, find a friend who taped the game and watch the whole thing. Over and over again. This is what college football is all about, and Boise State is the real deal. Wow. Hat's off to the boys in spudland on this one...

[Addendum: here's a link to the final 3:30 of this game... HT: Jimmy Traina]