easter

lest anyone think that i believe easter is just about chocolate bunnies, i'll clarify here that i know full well that it's also about cadbury eggs and peeps. aside from the candy, i feel as if i'm trying to learn something about easter.

i don't think it's simply the baskets full of candy that i got as a kid that make easter difficult for me, but i'm not sure what it is. maybe it's that easter was simply another sunday we all went to church together, just like every other week. but easter never really struck me as anything big.

on christmas, we'd go to midnight mass as a family, so that made it different - thus special - from going to the 1130 mass every sunday. and i remain grateful for that, as it has taught me the importance of the incarnation as a pivotal theological concept.

i'd say it was around high school, that i understood the importance of good friday. though at that time i'd also read the new testament on my own, and knew it well enough to understand what scripture said about the resurrection, it somehow felt anticlimactic after good friday (which i know is a theological reversal since the crucifixion means nothing without the resurrection, and that a lot of people were crucified, but only Jesus came back to life).

my senior year of high school, while visiting colleges in Boston, i went to my first easter vigil service. it was at trinity church in copley square, one of my favorite places in my favorite city. and thinking back, i remember that the resurrection was never more beautiful to me than during that mass. we'd never seen the church's interior before, and as it was evening, the church was dark. then, partway through the mass, candles were lit, and the fire passed from one to another, so that everyone in the church eventually held a lit candle. as the light grew, the gilded ceilings reflected the glow; the figures in the stained glass windows glittered and seemed to come to life in the play between light and shadow; and the woodwork and craftsmanship of the building became visible.

during that easter vigil service, watching the light grow, played out a beautiful visual image of the light of the world coming into the darkness, and bringing life even in the midst of death.

over the last decade (okay, it's been more than a decade, but let me pretend it hasn't been that long), i have once again found that i have struggled with remembering the centrality of the resurrection.

Jak and i went to an easter vigil service this saturday. though, like trinity, also episcopalian(ish), it couldn't have been more different than my previous easter vigil service. though the style was different, i was thankfully reminded of the resurrection and it's importance.

the resurrection is the center for our hope in Jesus. the resurrection is the light that came into the darkness proving that darkness could not win. the resurrection is God laughing in the face of evil, sin, injustice, and giving us the freedom to find joy in a world that is still filled with those things. the resurrection lets us know that no matter how hard we are beaten, no matter how unfair our trials and struggles are, no matter how tough our journeys are, no matter how many fingers point at us or how loudly we are shouted down or how ridiculed we are, no matter how many betrayals we face, that none of that is the end of the story. the resurrection lets us know that after adversity, pain, and even death, we will rise again.

anyway, just my thoughts as this easter sunday came to a close.

** He is risen **

questions i'm pondering about therapy

so i'm sitting in class all day (all day) today (and tomorrow), and no one can expect me to be in class from 9-630 and not have my mind wander in a million directions (per minute).

the class i'm in all weekend is called History and Therapeutic Perspectives, so it's essentially a class covering theories and practices of psychological therapy.

the thoughts i'm pondering in particular during my mental break right now are ones that have to do with why i want to get a master's in counseling and what that means to me, questions about what i believe make a good counselor (or a bad counselor), and what are good things that therapists do (and the things that are downright bad).

my professor just said that for him, the greatest sin as a therapist is making the person less than they are, and that he does this through being distracted.

so i find myself feeling the need to figure out the details as to why i want this degree, what i want to do with it, whether it is something i can do well - because i believe that those who don't do it well often become abusive in one form or another. and i find myself needing to set out the things that i think are most important to do and to avoid.

anyway, just some random thoughts for the day.

Romero

in class (impact of abuse) on friday night, we watched the film Romero (1989). i'd seen the film about a decade ago, and have studied enough about liberation theology and nonviolent action to remain familiar with the story line long after having forgotten the details of the film itself. it's based on the true story of archbishop Oscar Romero, who was assassinated/martyred in El Salvador on march 24th, 1980.

according to the film's portrayal, Oscar Romero was an introverted, academic, catholic priest who - when promoted from bishop to archbishop - would have prefered to remain in a study with his books than dealing with the political, economic, and humanitarian crises occurring in El Salvador at the time. the upper class Salvadorans urge him to remain theirs, as the reigning political parties have tended to have the church's support (at least outwardly via those in leadership), yet he is drawn further and further into the plight of the poor as he encounters the violence and injustice they face each day.

in the midst of a movie filled with injustice, abject poverty, violence, greed, and oppression, one scene in particular has stuck with me over the past week or so:

the Salvadoran government has occupied a town and turned the church into a barracks for the soldiers who are now in charge of the town. as the soldiers have overtaken the church and are not permitting Mass, Romero goes to pick up the consecrated (blessed) hosts (communion bread) of the Eucharist, because they cannot be left in this place that is no longer a church. as he enters, an officer confronts him and does not let him pass towards the altar. when Romero makes to step past him, the officer fires his automatic weapon at the tabernacle (where the hosts are stored) and the crucifix. Romero, frightened by this encounter, leaves the building. as he's about to enter the car, he realizes that he cannot just leave. in Catholic theology, once the host has been consecrated, it is believed to become the body of Christ, and is treated with the utmost reverence and respect. therefore, this archbishop proves to those around him that he is a man of God because he cannot allow the body of Christ to lay on the floor, but instead risks his life to pick up the pieces of the hosts - the body of Christ - that have been shot and now lay on the floor. he enters the church, walks past the officer, and on his hands and knees, begins to pick up the pieces of the fallen hosts. the officer, to instill fear and prove that he is the one in control, begins firing just over Romero's head, filling the wall behind the altar with bullet holes. Romero flinches, but continues to gather the pieces from the ground. eventually, the soldier pushes him over, and walks him out of the church at gunpoint. Romero gets in his car and leaves the village. but, just as he has passed the town limits, he returns to the town, to the people, to the church once again. as he exits the car, he begins to put on his vestments. all the townspeople have watched this encounter transpire, and their eyes are transfixed as he dons his robe and alb. once again, he walks towards the church, this time though, all the townspeople and the local priests join him as he enters the church. faced with so many civilians and religious, the soldiers step aside, as Romero stakes a claim for the church as God's house, not a barracks.

what struck me so deeply about this scene, was watching Romero handle the Eucharist - believed to be the very body of Christ - with such reverence, care, and adoration, with bullets flying over his head. it was beautiful to see him care for Jesus's body in such a way. but greater still, was his return to the town. in that, it showed Romero realizing that more sacred than the bread - the hosts - as the body of Christ, was the fact that the very people themselves -the church - were the body of Christ. well, maybe he didn't see it as more sacred, but it took until that moment for him to don his vestments, so maybe he did. but it was a visible reminder of the biblical passages regarding the church as the body of Christ, as well as Jesus's words that "whatever you do unto the least of these, that you do unto me." each person who entered the church with Romero upon his final entrance, each represented Jesus, in the flesh - and all of them together, as the church, were the very body of Christ. so Romero went to the town to retrieve - save - the body of Christ in the Eucharist, but found that the body of Christ was greater than the consecrated hosts because it was the living, breathing, community of believers that surrounded him.

it was a truly beautiful scene. and, if seen with an awareness of Catholic theology, and thus what Romero would have been thinking upon seeing the Eucharistic hosts shot at and laying on the floor, it adds an entire other dimension to watch his conversion from seeing only the bread, to the people as well, and to move to a place of understanding that he could not abandon the living, breathing, communal body of Christ that lived in that town just as he had not been able to leave the Eucharistic hosts laying on the ground exposed.

a year in review

a new year has just begun, so i thought i'd start it off with a rundown of the one that has just ended.

significant moments:
in may, after too many years in and out of college, i finally finished with a BA in psychology from boston college.
and in may, Jak graduated with his MDiv from gordon-conwell.
in the middle of the summer (after i'd finally finished college), i finally received a diagnosis for my adhd.
this summer we also took our first trip to maine, because we couldn't bring ourselves to leave new england without having seen the famous maine coast.
in august, Jak and i drove our car and a truck with our two cats across the country for a week, as we moved from boston to seattle.
in september, Jak was accepted into the spiritual direction certificate program at mars hill grad school, and we both began our classes there.
and throughout the year, we forged and strengthened many wonderful friendships with some truly amazing people.
in november, my grandmother passed away and we attended her memorial service in panama.
so it was a year of grand celebrations and one of losses as well.

favorite books of 2006:
it's hard to remember everything i've read this year, especially those things that came before i began this blog. so i'll just list a few memorable books (with links to my previous comments about the ones i've posted about) off the top of my head, in no particular order.
1. christ the lord: out of egypt by Anne Rice
2. a generous orthodoxy: by Brian McLaren
3. velvet elvis: by Rob Bell
4. driven to distraction: by Ned Hallowell
5. becoming attached: by Robert Karen
6. scattered: by Gabor Mate
7. a bright red scream: by Marilee Strong
8. the pressure's off: by Larry Crabb
9. through painted deserts: by Donald Miller
10. good omens: by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

in loving memory. . .

i wanted to give a eulogy at my grandmother's memorial service, but in the short notice i had (from my arrival in panama on wednesday afternoon until the service on thursday evening), i could not find the words.

though this won't be a eulogy, it will be my thoughts in some sort of way. the word eulogy comes from the greek, meaning a good word or speech. obviously this isn't a speech, but i do hope my words are good.

my grandmother was a woman of strength, a woman to be admired in that. she was educated, and a working woman in a time when that was rare. it is said that she handled herself well in a male-dominated workforce.

her own mother died when she was only four. perhaps it was this loss, or having been raised by a couple of aunts instead of her own father, or something else, that gave her this strength.

unfortunately, she never learned to put that strength aside for the sake of becoming warm or affectionate, thereby remaining someone that was hard to get close to.

she was difficult in many ways. with her strength came stubbornness, that made it difficult for many people, particularly those as stubborn as she - such as my mom and me - to be close to her.

she was a woman very concerned with proper manners. i fear that i have always failed her in that sense. i have never dressed properly enough for her. i have never been girly enough. i have never been feminine enough. i'd still rather wear jeans than dresses. i've never quite been able to cross my legs properly. though i do know which fork is which at the table, what to do with a napkin when i'm finished using it or when i get up from my seat, and to never speak with my mouth full. i know not to reach across the table and to always say please and thank you (whether i always do these things is a different matter).

i spent all of my summers in junior high and high school living with her in panama. she connected me to my homeland. she taught me a lot during that time, though i believe i'm only beginning to see how much.

my grandmother had breast cancer years ago, which was treated successfully.

at the time of our wedding, seven and a half years ago, the cancer returned and metastasized into her bones, eating them up and leaving them full of holes, like sponges. through these seven plus years, she went through every cancer treatment possible, exhausting them all. she lost her hair for a time. she was in much pain. she aged significantly. but she went through this all with much strength and grace. in all those years, it was only in this past year that her health truly began to decline.

she always seemed younger than her age. even in her eighties people thought she was in her sixties. so it was only really in her nineties that she seemed elderly at all.

she feared death. and she certainly held on to life, living past her 95th birthday. as my mom put it, the only way she would be willing to go was if life became just uncomfortable enough for her to not want to withstand it any longer. thankfully, she didn't move past that into a point of much suffering.

i can't help but believe that her fear of death had much to do with her avoidance of spirituality. she was jewish, though never one to practice the faith she was born into. from what i learned this past week, it seems that her response to the difficulty of being jewish in her day and age caused her to move away from her religion (her sister on the other hand, embraces it whole-heartedly). in some ways it seemed odd on thursday night to sit in a synagogue for her memorial service knowing that she would hardly have stepped foot in that place herself. it seems as if my mom as a catholic, and i as a mostly-protestant, have carried on her judaism more than she ever could, through the ways each of us personally believe and live out our faith.

she was a woman of strength to be reckoned with. a lover of life to be admired. the matriarch of our family. a solid connection to my home in panama. and one who will be sorely missed, even by those of us who struggled in our relationship to her.

i regret now how little i let myself know her. i regret not listening to her stories. i regret not making a greater effort to express warmth and affection to a woman who needed it by virtue of not knowing how to give those herself. i regret not spending more time with her when we were with each other.

but i am thankful that i had those summers with her. i am thankful that we had the last several christmases together (even while sick and in her nineties, she kept coming up to the states for the holidays). i am thankful for who she was, even in the ways she was difficult for me. and i am thankful for what i learned from her.

so this post is in loving memory of Audrey Eisenmann Kline
(August 24, 1911 - November 25, 2006).

religion is the opiate of the masses

Marx declared that "religion is the opiate of the masses," and that it is used to dull the senses. i've known of this for years, but i can't say i've ever spent much time contemplating this thought. instead of arguing here whether or not his statement is true as a general principle or anything like that, i'd rather think through how that quote applies to me specifically. remaining in my typical fashion, i'm sure that this will be more a series of questions than any answers, but i'm okay with that.

so i guess the real question that Marx poses to me is: have i allowed religion to become my drug of choice? do i allow religion to dull my senses?

if that is the case, it's quite ironic. if i'm claiming to worship, love, follow, serve the almighty God of the universe, creator of everything, the one who's given me my very self and my senses, yet i use religion to dull those very senses, aren't i really stepping far from the realm of what God would want? if i'm allowing religion to be my opiate, then aren't i allowing myself to get high on that instead of on the spirit, as God would demand of me?

maybe i should step back a bit. it seems as if a better starting point may be to wonder about ways that religion serves as an opiate for me, a way to dull my senses.

does the practice of going to church each week dull me from realizing my need for God in the everyday? (though i'm not advocating for avoiding church, nor am i stating that my attendance is near impeccable.) as much as i may complain about the state of the church today, i must admit that it is too easy for me to slip into believing that since i've been to church, i've fulfilled my duty. singing four or five songs becomes worship. listening to someone preach becomes learning, and replaces the meditations of my heart and time studying on my own. hearing other people pray in this context minimizes some of my guilt for not praying much on my own.

do i allow my sense of religion to create a false dichotomy between the sacred and the secular? does my tendency to read "christian" books or listen to "christian" music more often than those from the "secular" market cause me to shrink my thinking? granted, some of the "christian" books i've read and some of the music i listen to are genuinely good, but am i narrowing my scope, my vision, by relying so much on these? am i missing out on truth available from other sources, written, created by those outside of the church? am i setting myself up to expect too little from God by only seeking truth in certain places?

does my ability to remain (though uncomfortably) in a ghettoized christian subculture, filled with it's own music, books, t-shirts, pens, jewelry, et cetera, allow my to blind myself to the needs of the world? do i rationalize spending money on yet another cd, because it's worship music or something like that, in a way that limits me from loving justice, doing mercy, and walking humbly with my God?

i guess my fear is that i let religion replace relationship. i too often let the things that are superficial become central. i focus more easily on the legalities: going to church each week, feeling or avoiding guilt for not spending enough time with God, how i should be praying, and most of all how my life appears to others within the christian community who may judge me for not fitting into the tacitly agreed upon ways of showing christianity. these legalities, combined with a consumeristic selfishness that causes me to want more, more, more, and to spend money on completely unnecessary things, keeps me trapped in religion.

Jesus wasn't ever about religion. all throughout the gospels he's getting on the case of the religious folks for letting religion block the way to God. religion should serve as a path - or directional signal - towards God. but we have followed the ways of the pharisees, believing our religion to be the path to God.

Jesus was about relationship, with others and with God. his relationship with God made him spiritual without ever being religious. his relationship with others made him . . . i don't know. . . real? authentic? human?

it's too easy to put my spiritual life on hold for the sake of following religious rules and legality. it's too easy to drown my soul by immersing myself in selfish consumerism. it's too easy to ignore an intangible God instead of figuring out how to have a relationship. it's too easy to remain self-centered and withdrawn than to enter into the lives of others.

so yeah, religion is a drug of choice for me. and it's not an easy habit to quit. i don't believe that walking away from church is the answer i'm looking for. i don't believe that shifting my spending habits from the "christian" to the "secular" market would bring the salvation i seek. somehow, in the tangled mess of things, i need to reprioritize so that religion can step back and quit dulling my senses, so that my senses can be fully aware of God's presence and glory and so that i can become sober enough to be aware and present in that and in my relationship with others.

personal agendas

i haven't been blogging much lately. i haven't really felt that i've had anything to say over the past couple of weeks. i have had a lot on my mind, but i either haven't had the words for those thoughts, or they aren't things i would share in this sort of forum. but for those who want something to read on these pages, don't worry, i have at least three or four things on my mind today that i want to blog about (though i probably won't get to most of those tonight - which just means i'll have more to write about later).

on saturday, Jak and i had a day-long prayer retreat to go to for class. i've had many thoughts come through my mind since then, but a new one crossed my mind today in response to that day. i'm wondering if we can go about approaching anything without our personal agenda leading the way, and if so, how.

what would it look like if we were to approach our relationships without our personal agenda getting in the way? would we learn how to truly love the other as ourselves? would we be able to actually see them as another, more than someone we can get something from? could we actually learn to put them first?

okay, reading that probably makes me sound selfish, as if i can barely imagine approaching another person without purely me-centered motives. i don't want to think that's the case, but maybe it is. maybe that's why Jesus talked so much about love, because he knew we had to hear a lot about it just to start getting a glimpse of what it is God wants from us.

but it wasn't my selfishness towards other people that brought these thoughts to mind. i came to think about this while reflecting on my time in prayer with God on saturday. during that time, i realized how difficult it is for me to approach God without bringing in my own agenda. as i talked with God, i found that i just kept wanting to ask to get my way in things. it's very hard to say, as Jesus did, "not my will, but yours be done."

does anyone else struggle so much with this? i mean, i know i'm a fighter. i know i like to have things go my way. i know that i'm incredibly stubborn and hard-headed. but is this simply my nature that causes me to wrestle so much with God in this way, or does everyone do this?

a day of trying to talk with - and hear from - God, caused me to realize how little i'm willing to listen and how much the only thing i want to hear is, well, what i want to hear.

i guess it's just that i've fought with God for so long over so many things, and i'm finally realizing that the fight only continues because i'm unwilling to let God set the agenda. okay, i've known that for a while.

i think the difference now comes from the realization that if i can't put my agenda aside when approaching God - who knows my heart and my intentions better than i do - then i can't expect to be able to honestly come to others and put them first. if i can't put my agenda aside for God, then i can't do that for others, and God calls me to do both.

on saturday, it felt like i got tired of my own agenda, i got tired of the continuous fight with God. i finally - and truly - wanted God's agenda to rule my life. i mean, in the past i've prayed for God's will and not mine to take place in my life, but i think that those words never matched my desires. i'm finally so sick of trying to have things go my way, that i'm finally ready to try setting my agenda aside to hear what God might have to say to me.

in realizing that i put myself first in my relationship with God, i'm seeing that i must do that to a great extent with others, and that behavior is so far from God's desire. now i guess i just have to figure out in what ways i put my personal agenda before others so i can work on learning to set that aside.

i feel like this is the most rambling, directionless post so far on my blog. but, i guess sometimes when we realize big things we don't necessarily have the words to explain it.

home

what is it that gives a place a sense of "home" for us? is it the relationships to the people there? is it our history in that location? is it the smell of cookies baking, or the aroma of some other comfort food? does it relate to the memorable events or life transitions that took place there? is it a matter of memories or something a little more solid? is it rooted only in the past, or do the present and future play a role as well? is it a place we associate with a certain time - our childhood or adolescence - or is it something that transcends time?

as believers, we know that we are aliens and strangers, that this world is not our home. yet, we are graciously given glimpses of what home is like through the places that we experience as home while we wander on this earth. our journey through life is often marked with a variety of places that we call home for myriad reasons.

so as i long for my heavenly home, knowing that no home here is perfect or permanent, i'm also in the midst of grieving all the homes i've ever known.

we often lose the places we call "home." that can occur because of tragedies or disasters (hurricanes, earthquakes, fires, floods, etc.). we can lose them over the death of someone who made a place home for us. for some, it's as simple as having their childhood home sold as their parents move along to another place.

i've found myself, all at once, to be losing all the places i've known as home. though i know that there is a better place than this planet that is truly home, i am also in a place of grief as i realize that i'm losing so much at once.

i've recently moved from boston (my favorite city), which has always felt like home, to a seattle. i've learned that as my relationship with my family changes, the place where i grew up is less and less my home (which i guess is the way it's supposed to be, as in marriage we're supposed to leave our family and stick to our spouse). in the midst of this, i'm facing the immanent death of my grandmother, who right now feels like my most solid tie to my country of origin.

the loss of these three at once seems incomprehensibly huge to me right now.

yet, i know that my hope lies in a greater home than all these. i'm not good at remembering this part of the equation though. it's easy to feel discomfort in this life, but hard to remember what we're promised for our future.

and i know that home is more than these physical places. there are people, few and far between, that are also "home" for me, regardless of their physical location. a few friends scattered around the country who's presence (even when relegated to phone calls) brings me home. and of course, i have Jak, who - regardless of what roof is over our head at any given time - is my earthly home.

and i guess this is where i must find my rest right now. in the midst of my grief, i'll seek rest in those who make this world a little more "homey," and in the hope for a better home in the future.

hope

i've taken to reading quite a few blogs lately, and what i've found to be most frustrating is how many of the people i most want to hear from don't update frequently. so though i don't i have much to say, and i'm not sure how many of you read this, i figure that to avoid what i find disappointing, i myself should avoid. therefore, i'll be (at least for now) making as much of an effort as i can to post regularly, even if i don't have much to say.

there are a couple of other books that i read this summer that i really feel are worth posting on, but i'd have to take the time to glance through them again before writing about them. and it's late, and i'm tired, so i'm not going to do that tonight.

so i'm not sure what to write about in this space tonight (of course, if you do read my blog, and have any ideas of things i should write about for other posts, please let me know).

what follows may simply be some stream-of-consciousness writing. this will be somewhat experimental for me, as i believe the only other time i've written this way was for an exercise in middle or high school or something.

the ceiling glitters with twinkling lights, much like a strange white night sky. the sparks of light seem much like hope in my life, something i have only recently learned to see and therefore sparse and distant from one another. but no less real than the light that is causing the reflections in the ceiling; no less real than the light of the sun; no less real than the God who is light.

it seems impossible to imagine that anyone could live a life - or even a single day - without hope. i think i believe that hope is as essential as air and water, as nourishing as food. yet i can honestly say that i'd never even begun to understand anything about hope until fairly recently. i find that i now desire to feast on it to break free from the years of starvation, and i carefully, warily tread near it, examining it, as if fearful that it's not true.

i could never say that i've never had moments of hope in the past. but the clearest moment and glimpse of hope i'd ever had was snatched away from me so quickly and violently, that a deep fear was planted within me to avoid any semblance of hope again. the theft of my hope that day led to the darkest night i have experienced, the darkest moment i think a person can experience (though maybe that's simply my overall inexperience speaking).

it took me a decade to seek hope again after that robbery and darkness. it took me a third of my life so far to be willing to risk wondering about hope.

now that i've tasted hope, i can't even begin to imagine the forced starvation i put myself through for all those years. i wonder if i could have had it any other way. i wonder if i'm still such a person that i could allow someone to steal my hope, or if i've gained the strength to avoid allowing another to crush me.

so as i look at these glints of light in the ceiling, i smile and my eyes close in delight and utter gratefulness to the God who has given me life, who gives me - and calls me to - hope, and who's grace and mercy are well beyond anything i could ever begin to understand.

boston vs. seattle

i probably shouldn't be doing this yet, as i've only lived in seattle for a month and a half, but here are my thoughts so far. but first, my disclaimer: i love boston.

1. boston has the T, which as much as bostonians complain about it, the T (and the buses) is a great transportation system that can get you virtually anywhere.

2. boston has fall. well, so does seattle. but nothing is as beautiful as fall in new england. the trees here look like they're making a pathetic attempt at fall, and it's just sad.

3. boston has the red sox. i'm not a sports fan, but if you've lived in boston, you've just gotta love the sox.

4. things feel closer in boston. maybe that's because of the T and because of the neighborhood that we're in here in seattle, but i loved feeling that i could walk to shops and restaurants and all sorts of places so easily.

5. boston has history. everywhere you go, there's a story to be heard. i'm sure there's some here though, but i just haven't had a chance to find it yet.

6. boston has snow. seattle really just gets rain. sure, rain doesn't have to be shoveled, but it's also not as pretty as snow is when it first falls.

7. boston has pizza. it's not that seattle doesn't, but they just don't seem to know how to make edible pizza here. okay, we found a decent place this week. but the last two times we had pizza, i couldn't even finish a slice (and if you've seen me eat, you know that it takes a lot for me to not be able to eat something - unless it's meat).

8. seattle has mars hill grad school, and i wouldn't go anywhere else.

9. though seattle has a reputation for coffee, i think the starbucks trend that birthed the coffeehouse revolution has affected most of the country, including boston. plus i'd still take a cup of dunkin's coffee over starbucks any day. but, there are plenty of independent coffee shops here.

10. seattle has better grocery stores. although we did eventually find a few decent stores in boston, they were all awful in comparison to what we'd been spoiled with in miami (oh, how we miss publix!).

11. seattle has cheaper rent. enough said, right?

12. seattle has a troll. yes, a troll. it lives under a bridge (because isn't that where trolls live?), and it is super cool (or wicked cool as would be said in boston). we got a chance to go see this troll this weekend, and i can assure you that it's really there.

13. both cities have some really cool people. so i'm glad about that.

14. seattle's atmosphere (in an ethos sort of way) is more chill. so i guess that suits me better. though i never really felt affected by the supposed attitude of boston.

well, i guess that's really it for right now as far as my thoughts on boston vs. seattle. i think once i've had a chance to see more stuff, and learn my way around better, my opinions may shift. so these are really just preliminary thoughts.

links

i was checking over my links tonight to make sure they were all working, and started wondering if i should even include the set of sites that make me angry. i'd really hate to direct more traffic towards those sites. and there are so many more sites i know of that are so much worse, that i can't even bring myself to link to those.

if i really wanted to put a site up that makes me angry, then i'd link to something like fred phelps' site - you know - the crazy preacher who has his church members go around protesting at military funerals to let everyone know that homosexuals are the downfall of our country and that they, and we, are all going to hell. but there's no way i want another link on the web going to that website. he doesn't need anymore traffic, i don't want him thinking people believe his hellish lies.

so if i don't consider that okay to do, then why do i even include the sites i have listed there? i'd like to think that i believe that they are less harmless than phelps. but is that really true? i mean, these are sites that are all about dissension and focusing on the minor issues instead of on Jesus.

i guess for now i'll leave them, as i continue to wonder about the wisdom of this decision. maybe i'll take some time to actually talk about each one and why i have them listed there.

herme-who-tics?

oh blogger, though we have not known each other long, or even that well, how i have missed you,

sorry for that randomness.

i think i need one of those little mood icons like LJ offers, then i could just let you know right off the bat that i'm in a strange mood.

so i'm still trying to gauge what i think of seattle. i mean, i really love boston, and it's certainly not boston. i think i miss the T. the cultural atmosphere, in the sense of what people are like, is pretty cool. and there is certainly plenty of coffee, which is a wonderful thing. but the city itself isn't impressing me so far. even after seeing the famous wall of gum or whatever they call it. pretty gross but somehow mesmerizing.

one of the classes i'm taking now is intro to hermeneutics. i'll assume most of you (whoever you are) have no clue what that word means, it's the science (or art? of interpretation. i would surmise that most seminaries would teach it by either not teaching it, and focusing solely on exegesis - which has to do with the language and grammar of a text as well as its historical context while hermeneutics has more to do with content and contemporary application - or by taking a vastly different approach. i would guess that after much time spent in exegesis, that the focus on hermeneutics would still be quite exegetical by looking at the author and primary audience of the text before - if ever - considering the contemporary reader.

at mars hill though, the entire seminary process is quite different than the norm.

so for hermeneutics, the first thing we're focusing on is on the reader - that is to say ourselves. we're admitting that we don't come to a text without preconceived notions. we have our backgrounds that affect the way we read a text: our gender, socio-economic status, education, race, ethnicity, culture, family history, age, experiences, and those who've mentored or affected us in some way all contribute to our reading.

therefore the questions i'm mulling over for this course this semester will not only have to do with the authors of the texts, or the Author for that matter, or with the historical and literary context of the texts, but ones that affect the way i approach the things i read and see and experience. how do i, as a woman, who grew up in an upper-middle class home, has a college education (finally), who's white with a mixed hispanic-american background, has already hit an age i'd rather not think about, who's had the experiences that are uniquely mine, and who's been influenced by the individuals who've entered my life, how do i, as this particular person, in this time and place, approach a text? which of these things are most influential? are there any of these things (and untold others) that i can say do not create a bias when i read? how will this understanding of why i read the way i do, change the way i live, the way i minister, the way i interact with others?

i think this shall prove to be an interesting semester. i think my entire mars hill experience will prove to be quite interesting. i face this future with a fearful excitement, but excitement nonetheless.

shopping for the future

i think i've taken too much to seeing my life as a shopping excursion (not that i particularly care for shopping). each day, i glance around, looking at all the options and seeing each one as perfectly reasonable. in trying to make plans for the future, i act as if i've waltzed right into a department store (when was the last time i went in one of those?) and i proceed to grab a few items from each department, as mismatched as they may be. the next thing i know, i've got my arms full, i've gone way over budget, most of the stuff isn't what i need, and now i can't figure out what to do with it all.

just as i want to have all those things as i walk through the store, i look at my life and i find myself unsettled, always wanting more.

so i try to remain in the dialectic, realizing that there is always a certain unsettled-ness in this world because we are aliens and strangers, we were not meant to live in this fallen state, but on the other hand, i know that i need to be grateful for what i have and learn to make my life an acceptable offering to God.

instead though, i allow my unsettled-ness to whirl around my insecurities, my fears, my desires, my fantasies; and i forget about God, and focus on simply making myself acceptable, while craving so much more than is necessary for me.

oh, if only i could win the lottery. . .

what would that solve though? i would still always want more. we humans are insatiable creatures that way.

i just need my master's degree, then i'll feel accomplished. . .

why should a piece of paper determine anything about me? am i so convinced that without it i will simply be a failure?

i need things to go my way, and i want it now. . .

haven't i learned by now that God's ways aren't my ways, and that his tend to be better anyhow?

i'm pretty sure there's a verse in the Bible somewhere that says that i plan my steps, and then God laughs.

when will i learn that i can't have everything? i already have so much of what matters most, and so much more that i don't need at all. when will i learn that although the future always holds so many options, there is only so much that i can do, or that i need to do. when will i learn to see my options with a little more realism, so i don't walk around the store with too many mismatched things in my hand, going over budget, and simply cluttering up my life?