worship the empire much?

Stuff like this literally makes me sick.

Oh, hello there.

I'm glad I am not the only one who thinks that small groups can be really awkward.

Here's what Jon Bloom (Desiring God) has to say:

"Small groups should never be confused with the deep, organic fellowship we have with our closest friends. Small groups are simply bite-sized portions of a larger church where we seek to carry out the one another commands with other believers. We ought to expect some awkwardness in them because, like any church, they should include some people we would likely never choose as our intimates, but who still need to be loved and cared for, especially the needy who we naturally shy away from. And we need something in our lives to put us near to them because those people require a kind of sanctifying love from us that is rarely if ever called out of us with those with whom we share a natural chemistry. SG’s can be hard because loving one another can be hard."

A new way

I read this story today for one of my classes here. It was cited in the book Kingdom Ethics by Glen Stassen and David Gushee, and is unbelievably touching. In this section, the authors are discussing the need for transformation in society that can come through spirituality, and it comes from the chapter entitled "Sowing the Seeds of Peace."

"Robert Coles tells how an eight-year-old black girl's faith in God transformed a violent situation to one of peace:

I was all alone and those [segregationist] people were screaming, and suddenly I saw God smiling and I smiled.... A woman was standing there [near the school door], and she shouted at me 'Hey you little nigger, what you smiling at?' I looked right at her face and I said, 'At God.' Then she looked up at the sky, and then she looked at me, and she didn't call me any more names. (Hampton et al., Preventing Violence in America, 124-27)"

Happy Birthday

Currently Hearing: Dear Science by TV On the Radio
Currently Sitting: At My Desk in My Apartment
Currently Writing: A Paper Explaining the Problem of Evil from the Perspective of Process Theology
Currently Waiting: For My Macaroni to Cool Down

Today, ladies and gentlemen, is the birthday of Stephen Crane, a wonderful author, and one of my favorite poets. He died when he was only 28, but obviously did not die without making literary waves. Here are a few of my favorite Crane poems for you to enjoy:

Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
------------------------------
Supposing that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
My sinful blood,
What can you offer me?
A gardened castle?
A flowery kingdom?

What? A hope?
Then hence with your red sword of virtue.
------------------------------
A slant of sun on dull brown walls
A forgotten sky of bashful blue.
Toward God a mighty hymn
A song of collisions and cries
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells.
Welcomes, farewells, love-calls, final moans,
Voices of joy, idiocy, warning, despair,
The unknown appeals of brutes,
The chanting of flowers
The screams of cut trees,
The senseless babble of hens and wise men-
A cluttered incoherency that says at the stars:
"O, God, save us."
------------------------------
Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God - that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.

Come Now Sleep

Tonight, I think I learned a very important reality.

I think caffeine might keep me from sleeping.

I have always operated under the assumption that I am impervious to this chemical. However, it appears that the time has come for me to be a scientist and do what every good scientist does - experiments.

So, here I am, sitting around, trying to make myself sleepy. I am trying to connect some dots about coffee's role in this turmoil, because I have one of these nights every once in a while, but I thought sometimes I just had trouble sleeping.

Soon I will figure out. That's another thing scientists do - figure stuff out.

In the meantime, I will provide you with 2 things:
1.) a poem by Walt Whitman
2.) a picture of one of my favorite animals

1. "Over the Carnage Rose Prophetic a Voice"

Over the carnage rose prophetic a voice,
Be not dishearten'd, affection shall solve the problems of freedom
yet,
Those who love each other shall become invincible
They shall yet make Columbia victorious.

Sons of the Mother of All, you shall yet be victorious,
You shall yet laugh to scorn the attacks of all the remainder of
the earth.

No danger shall balk Columbia's lovers,
If need be a thousand shall sternly immolate themselves for one.

One from Massachusetts shall be a Missourian's comrade,
From Maine and from hot Carolina, and another an Oregonese,
shall be friends triune,
More precious to each other than all the riches of the earth.

To Michigan, Florida perfumes shall tenderly come,
Not the perfumes of flowers, but sweeter, and wafted beyond death.

It shall be customary in the houses and streets to see manly
affection,
The most dauntless and ruse shall touch face to face lightly,
The dependence of Liberty shall be lovers,
The continuance of Equality shall be comrades.

These shall tie you and band you stronger than hoops of iron,
I, ecstatic, O partners! O lands! with the love of lovers tie you.

(Were you looking to be held together by lawyers?
Or by an agreement on a paper? or by arms?
Nay, nor the world, nor any living thing, will so cohere.)

2.

Be thou My Vision

Currently Hearing: Heart of Glass by Blondie
Currently Feeling: Like Someone Put Drugs in My Coffee
Currently Wanting: To Ride My Bike
Currently Desiring: A Desk for My Apartment

So, I tried to put up some videos from the El Ten Eleven show I went to last night, but my computer did something crazy and I didn't feel like trying again.
Maybe later.

This morning, I went to an Episcopal church here in Pasadena for their service.

I had wondered what the church would be like, considering I had heard it was one of the most liberal churches in America.
It was quite an interesting experience. First of all, my friend and I went early to listen to a man from Little Rock who had been one of the first black students in their attempt to integrate the school system in Arkansas. He was very kind and humorous, and had some good things to say about racial relations. After that, I strolled out onto the lawn to see an assortment of booths for church "clubs" and communities. Being raised in the South, it was definitely surprising to see the Gay and Lesbian Association with their booth on the church lawn. Then, we went inside for Eucharist. The service had some good songs, including a personal favorite of mine - Be Thou My Vision. The liturgical aspect is always interesting to experience, considering I was raised in a totally different tradition. But, I can definitely appreciate it and really enjoy some of it. After that, I basically heard a sermon that would have passed over well among any religiously tolerant audience - as one of my friends put it - it was a good "moral lecture." It was definitely shocking to hear the priest refer to people who are against homosexual ordination as "morally blind."

The whole experience just got me thinking about the role of the Spirit in guiding believers. This is something that plagues my mind quite regularly. It seems that people from so many different camps and "wings" of Christianity believe they are living lives guided by the Spirit, yet people believe such diametrically opposed ideas. It is all so confusing to me. I guess none of that stuff won't be sorted out until the eschaton (maybe not even then, depending on what you believe!).

Am I Speaking For You?

Currently Loving: Green Apple Tart Yogurt + Toppings by Cherry On Top Yogurt
Currently Hearing: Man on the Moon by Kid Cudi
Currently Reading: A Plethora of Textbooks by My Professors and Their Required Reading Lists
Currently Praying: For My Nana and the Pasadena Acts29 Church Plant

Tonight, I thought it would be pleasing to share one of my favorite poems with you. I used to keep a written copy of it at my desk in Korea and read it every once in a while.

"When We Sold the Tent"
by Rhina P. Espaillat

When we sold the tent
we threw in the Grand Canyon
with its shawl of pines,
lap full of cones and chipmunks
and crooked seams of river.

We let them have the
parched white moonscapes of Utah,
and Colorado's
magnificat of flowers
sunbursting hill after hill.

Long gentle stretches
of Wyoming, rain outside
some sad Idaho
town where the children, giddy
with strange places, clowned all night.

Eyes like small veiled moons
circling our single light, sleek
shadows with pawprints,
all went with the outfit; and
youth, a river of campfires.

"When We Sold the Tent" by Rhina P. Espaillat from Playing at Stillness. © Truman State University Press.