Down with the Cuteness

My in-laws are downsizing so they've been sending a bunch of stuff to Sarah. This picture (Sarah at 5) came with the latest batch. Isn't she adorable as she stares at you from her cute little block house and thinks, "What the hell are they doing in my house?"

I also like the storybook written by and illustrated by Sarah at age 10. Tales included in the lofty tome are The Enormous Foot, The Mind Reading Berries, and my favorite title, Katrina and the Weasel. Seeing all this evidence, it was inevitable that Sarah would grow up to be a cute and creative adult. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The New Catholicism

"The second Vatican council met in 1962 to deliver the greatest revolution in Roman Catholicism since Luther...The results were extraordinary. The mass was edited (GASP) and translated from Latin into local languages (GET OUT); the priest had to face the congregation (NO WAY) and laypeople were allowed both bread and wine (REALLY?). Catholics were allowed, even encouraged, to read the Bible (WHAT?) in translation (OH), including Protestant versions (YOU'RE KIDDING), and to cooperate in making more (PROTESTANTS OR BIBLES?)...Protestants and Orthodox became 'separated brothers', division a tragedy and a sin (GASP II) that must be ended; their churches are defective (HUH?), but still part of God's plan of salvation (OH OKAY). Even Muslims and Jews became siblings on their way to heaven. (FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS FOREVER...)"

And it only took 2000 years, give or take...

Source: A Short History of Christianity by Stephen Tomkins
Parenthetical statements are mine. Duh!

Protest of Mark Driscoll

Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill church in Seattle, has recently come under fire for comments he made on his blog after the Ted Haggard situation broke. In particular, folks seem to have a problem with this statement:

"Most pastors I know do not have satisfying, free, sexual conversations and liberties with their wives. At the risk of being even more widely despised than I currently am, I will lean over the plate and take one for the team on this. It is not uncommon to meet pastors’ wives who really let themselves go; they sometimes feel that because their husband is a pastor, he is therefore trapped into fidelity, which gives them cause for laziness. A wife who lets herself go and is not sexually available to her husband in the ways that the Song of Songs is so frank about is not responsible for her husband’s sin, but she may not be helping him either."*

Frankly, Driscoll is known for his fundamental views towards women. In a nutshell, he believes every woman should quit their job, stay home and have babies. Those of you who believe Mars Hill to be an emergent church are sadly mistaken. It's a fundy to be sure.
I understand why people are upset. Sarah and I visited Mars Hill a couple of times and she left feeling as though she had been attacked as a woman. I didn't understand at the time but it's starting to come through loud and clear now.
Well, someone has decided that they are going to protest Mars Hill and Driscoll on Sunday, December 3. Will it do any good? No. Will I be there? I don't know. Originally, it was planned for Nov. 19th but it got moved back. Part of me wants to go and see how it's handled and another part of me wants to stay far away. Anyway, there's alot more to it and, if you're interested, you can read about it for yourself.

Driscoll's comments are here.*

The conversation is here.

Protest links are here and here.

*Source: Resurgence: Mark Driscoll's Blog

Spirit Stuff

I stole these two quotes from God's Artist in Residence. My wife and I both love Philip Yancey's stuff. We have been finding his stuff at thrift stores. We buy them up when we find them. My wife devours them slowly, taking meticulous notes in her journal. I really, really like these quotes and want to preserve them here so I don't forget them.

J.I. Packer chides the church: 'With a perversity as pathetic as it is impoverishing, we have become preoccupied today with the extraordinary, sporadic, non-universal ministries of the Spirit to the neglect of the ordinary, general ones. Thus, we show a great deal more interest in the gifts of healing and tongues- gifts which, as Paul pointed out, not all Christians are meant to partake anyway- than in the spirit's ordinary work of giving peace, joy, hope, and love, through the shedding abroad in our hearts of knowledge of the love of God.'

"The Spirit cannot be kept like a personal pet, living in a small compartment somewhere inside us to be brought out at will. The living presence of God inside us should permeate everything we see and do... The Spirit does not act on us so much as with us, as a part of us- a God of the process, not a God of the gaps."

Source: Reaching for the Invisibile God by Philip Yancey

Join the Tribe

I love this quote that my friend Mark put up on his blog. Go here to read it. It basically says the same things I've been saying about conformity over the years...only better.

The Second World War

"Probably the only person who had any chance of hampering him (Hitler) was the Pope, who had the ear of 40 million German Catholics, but he barely said a word. When German forces occupied Rome, he opened his sanctuaries to give refuge to many thousands of non-Aryans, but he was committed to neutrality in his search for peace and feared provoking Hitler, so he opened not his mouth.
As their armies liberated the death camps of eastern Europe, the allies realised what a good cause they had been fighting in. But the fact that 6 million Jews had been systematically killed left the church with some terrible questions. Where had God been? Can the omnipotent watch the most unthinkable atrocities in the history of inhumanity without lifting a finger? Then again, where had the church been? For all that some individual Christians did, the church as a whole did disgracefully little to stop the Holocaust. In fact, was it not positively responsible?"

Source: A Short History of Christianity by Stephen Tomkins

The Pentecostal Explosion

"Charles Parham...was telling his students....about being filled with the Holy Spirit, when it occurred to him that in the book of Acts, those filled with the Spirit at Pentecost all spoke in foreign languages. So he told them this was a sign of being genuinely filled...and encouraged them to ask God for the gift. On the first day of the new century, Agnes Ozman started 'speaking in tongues', and others soon joined in. Parham took his discovery on a nationwide revival tour, sending his students to find out what language they had been given...Unfortunately, their 'tongues' bore no relation to any languages on earth, so they concluded that it was a language of heaven."

"In 1910, the Tennessee Pentecostal George Hensley, preaching on the text 'They shall take up snakes,' ended by grabbing a rattlesnake and commanding his flock to the the same or be 'doomed to eternal hell'. They obeyed. He kept at the snake handling until 1955, when he died of a snake bite. Today, he has 2,500 followers."

"A group of rich American businessmen, dismayed by how many of their ministers had become liberals, printed a twelve-part book, The Fundamentals, and sent out 3 million copies, one to every church employee and theology student in the USA. It outlined the fundamental doctrines of Christianity...The Fundamentals helped evangelicals see themselves as fundamentally anti-liberal, and it gave us the word that dominates twenty-first-century talk of religion, 'fundamentalist', which originally meant 'conservative Protestant' and now, if anything, means 'someone more religious that I approve of'."

Source: A Short History of Christianity by Stephen Tomkins

Joey "The Lips" Fagan

Last night, Sarah and I went to see Waiting for Godot at the Moore Theater. It was performed by the Gate Theatre from Dublin, Ireland. Neither one of us had ever seen it and we were curious. We knew it was a weird play but we went anyway. We left at intermission.
The night wasn't a total loss for me though because playing one of the characters was Johnny Murphy (the fellow with the mustache) who played Joey "The Lips" Fagan in one of my favorite movies, The Commitments. I love his character in the movie. Although a bit strange and not entirely truthful, Joey's character is the heart and soul of the band. Nice to see that ol' Johnny's still working.

How to Be Creative

Found this over at Gaping Void. I'm just putting the list over here. For the long version, go here.

So you want to be more creative, in art, in business, whatever. Here are some tips that have worked for me over the years:

1. Ignore everybody.
2. The idea doesn't have to be big. It just has to change the world.
3. Put the hours in.
4. If your biz plan depends on you suddenly being "discovered" by some big shot, your plan will probably fail.
5. You are responsible for your own experience.
6. Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten.
7. Keep your day job.
8. Companies that squelch creativity can no longer compete with companies that champion creativity.
9. Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.
10. The more talented somebody is, the less they need the props.
11. Don't try to stand out from the crowd; avoid crowds altogether.
12. If you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you.
13. Never compare your inside with somebody else's outside.
14. Dying young is overrated.
15. The most important thing a creative person can learn professionally is where to draw the red line that separates what you are willing to do, and what you are not.
16. The world is changing.
17. Merit can be bought. Passion can't.
18. Avoid the Watercooler Gang.
19. Sing in your own voice.
20. The choice of media is irrelevant.
21. Selling out is harder than it looks.
22. Nobody cares. Do it for yourself.
23. Worrying about "Commercial vs. Artistic" is a complete waste of time.
24. Don?t worry about finding inspiration. It comes eventually.
25. You have to find your own schtick.
26. Write from the heart.
27. The best way to get approval is not to need it.
28. Power is never given. Power is taken.
29. Whatever choice you make, The Devil gets his due eventually.
30. The hardest part of being creative is getting used to it.
31. Remain frugal.

The Returning

I found this in one of my old journals today. It was written in October of 2003 on a lonely beach in NC. In reading it, I decided that it had great significance to my present spiritual journey. It seems that even way back then I felt that God's presence had left me. This story was written as a prayer for a returning, a sweet reunion between myself and God. I have given the story a bit of a spruce from its raw form but the spirit is intact. I offer this up as a prayer of hopefulness that this returning, this reunion will occur very soon.
___

I have traveled countless miles across the burning sand trying to find you. My body has begun to consume itself. I am in need of sustenance on many levels. My body needs food and water but my soul needs you. Your absence has taken a toll on me. That is why I seek you out.

After so many days I cannot keep up with them, I see, in the distance, an ancient place of worship. It has been so long since I have been here that I do not recognize it. It lies in ruins, neglected for an amount of time I can no longer recall.

I reach the doors and open them. They part slowly with an ear shattering creak. As I enter the main chamber, I look across and see what must have been the altar of praise on a level rising above the floor. Below that, at floor level, is a fountain. There was once a time when this place was filled with songs and shouts of praise, the fountain filled to overflowing. Now, the fountain is empty, as dry and dusty as the sand caked on my feet.

My body aches from walking and from the emptiness I have lived with for too long. For a time, I am too frightened to move. This ancient place mocks me with the ghosts of the past. But I must shake these apparitions that haunt me and move forward. Slowly, I make my way to the altar.

Climbing the steps, I falter. My knee scrapes the steps, releasing a small amount of blood. I wipe the wound with the rags of my clothing and continue up to the altar. The memories flood my mind. At one time, I stood here. It should be familiar but the familiarity is faint. Overwhelmed, I speak the faintest of words across my cracked lips.

“Where are you?”

The words escape as a dry rasping sound. Vocal cords unfamiliar with speech rebel against the attempt. But once the words are said, others begin to follow. I speak them to you, although there is no evidence that you are here.

“Where are you?

My voice falters and I fall to my knees at the foot of the altar. I am spent and broken. My mind begins to wander and the old doubts begin to fill my mind. Every emotion imaginable is coursing through my veins, begging for some kind of release. If I were not dehydrated, tears might flow but, as it is, my face remains dry.

Suddenly, through the confusion, a song enters my memory. The last thing I feel like doing is singing and yet, there it is. I try to ignore it but it will not be denied. My lips part and the words escape into the air.

“Have mercy on me…”

I laugh as they come out. It has been so long and I am amazed that I remember them. I repeat them to make sure I can do it again.

“Have mercy on me…”

They come easier each time I repeat them. Over and over, I sing them again and again. At first, they come out as barely a whisper. After a few moments, my voice builds strength and the volume grows. Before long I realize that I am not so much singing them as screaming them. I sing until my body has nothing else to offer and I collapse into a heap on the floor.

As I am lying there, feeling like death may overtake me at any moment, I hear a faint sound. At first, I believe my imagination to be playing tricks on me, but no…there it is again. I laugh, thinking this must be the end because I am hallucinating, but my laugh dies as I hear the sound again. It is stronger this time. It is the sound of drops of water hitting stone. With all the strength I can muster, I pull myself to my feet. Peering over the altar, I see that the fountain is filling with water.

Forgetting myself, I race down the steps to the edge of the filling pool. I dip my filthy hands into the water to find that it is real. I put my palms together and fill them the best I can, bringing the water to my dry lips. I drink down the refreshing water and it begins to revive me. The fountain is now beginning to flow like a river. The basin fills quickly and I take delight in plunging my head into its cool embrace. I fill my mouth again and again until I can drink no more. Feeling clean and satisfied, I lie on the floor and stare up at the ceiling. A smile forms on my face as I whisper,

“There you are.”

© 2006 by Marty Gordon

Booklist

Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury - "Dandelion Wine takes us into the summer of 1928, and to all the wondrous and magical events in the life of a 12-year-old Midwestern boy named Douglas Spaulding."*
I grabbed this book from the library thinking it was another coming-of-age story in the tradition of To Kill A Mockingbird. It's actually nothing like Mockingbird but that's okay. This story is simple but the writing is superb. Bradbury's prose is elegant and charming in what has been called "a love letter to his childhood."* In the book, the only thread of a storyline concerns the Spaulding boys and the eldest's desire to record the events of the summer in his notebook. Each chapter deals with a different situation involving the citizens of the town. As the book ends, you find that summer is over and the magic of childhood is about to give way to school and such.
I enjoyed this book although it did take a few pages to get used to Bradbury's style of prose. I guess I read so much "junk" fiction it takes a while to get used to the good writing. I suppose I should pick up the classics more often.
Polly and the Pirates by Ted Naifeh - "Polly is caught between the prim-and-proper boarding school set she's grown-up with and the legendary legacy of the Pirate Queen that she never knew she was a part of! But which is the cruel, cold world and which is the care-free paradise? And does it even matter when there's a dashing pirate prince involved? Hoist the sails and batten the hatches on this brand new adventure!"*
This is a graphic novel I picked up from the library. I had read the first three of Naifeh's Courtney Crumrin books and enjoyed them so I thought I'd give this a try. It's not as good as the Crumrin books but enjoyable all the same. I especially enjoyed the accents employed by certain characters being spelled out phonetically so that you knew exactly what that person sounded like.
I will certainly be on the lookout for more of Naifeh's books. He is a very talented artist who spins a pretty good tale. I must say that I am impressed with the material I've read lately coming out of Oni Press. Not well known but good stuff all the same.

*Source: Amazon

Reaction to a Fallen Preacher

I don't have to tell you the news
Another betrayal amidst the pews
Besmirching Christianity
And lowering it's integrity
When we practice to deceive
It's makes it harder to believe
That God is good and God is kind
When his disciples lose their mind
I know forgiveness is the key
But grace is not so easy for me
So all you pastors, bishops and priests
Treat your calls responsibly
Lest you lead the sheep astray
And watch them swiftly fall away

© 2006 by Marty Gordon

300 Letters to God

"A U.S. man who found 300 letters to God floating in the Atlantic Ocean said on Friday he will donate them to a church instead of selling them on eBay following protests from religious people."

More about this here and here.

Source: Yahoo News

The Moron Church

"Inspired by US camp meetings, Joseph Smith was told by God not to join any existing church but wait for something better. In 1823, he discovered that the native Americans were the lost tribes of Israel who came to America in 600 BC, when one of them, Moroni, returned from the dead in New York to tell him. Moroni told Smith that he had written their history in a mysterious, ancient script on gold plates before their faith died out, that it was the third testament of the Bible and where it was buried. Smith dug them up, and four years later, he was allowed to take them out of the box, whereupon Moroni gave him a pair of magic glasses allowing him to understand the hieroglyphics. Then the Moronial visitations, for want of a better adjective, stopped, and Smith got down to the job of translation and organising his disciples in the Mormon Church."

Why didn't they just call it the Moron Church in honor of Moroni?
What? I'm serious!

*Source: A Short History of Christianity by Steve Tomkins

Trunk or Treat

On Halloween night, Sarah and I participated in Trunk or Treat at our church. As you can see, we chose a pirate theme and having access to a theatre costume shop didn't hurt. It was fun and we got to meet some more folks from the church. Sarah made all the kids say "Arrrr" before she would give them candy.
As the night progressed, we got colder and colder. The boots we had on were very uncomfortable and had no insulation in them. By the time we got home, we were freezing and tired. We're pretty wimpy pirates.
We brainstormed a little with one of the staff members and laid the groundwork for a bigger and better Trunk or Treat next year. We all agreed that the concessions area should be extended to include coffee, hot chocolate and spiced apple cider. Sarah and I will be sure to come up with a theme that requires sitting or at least comfy shoes.