I'm finding my voice again, which can always be a bit of a challenge. It helps to pull inspiration from others, so I thought I'd share some of where my inspiration comes from... music. I love this song (and this artist), but I've decided that I don't want the lyrics to describe me anymore. Since the song has already been beautifully written and recorded (by someone who has no idea who I am), I guess it's up to me to make the change.
Paper Doll by Rosie Thomas
(click to listen)
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Dress me in what you wish I had on
And I will not say a thing
I will keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
And I do not like the clothes I wear
I'd sooner throw them into the air
But I will not say a thing
I will just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Why is it now
That you've cut me out
of everything I was used to now
it's not that I
stand here no choice
I will choose not to raise up my voice
Here I am, wordless again
Wordless again.
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Cut from the page that I once lived on
And I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
snot storms around us
I really thought I had things figured out. I don't want to spend a lot of time feeling sorry for myself, but I admit, it's getting hard. I try to keep busy, or at least my mind occupied. When I'm not busy I try to sleep so as not to think too much. Maybe it's not the best remedy, but it helps. And that's what I need right now... help.
Not necessarily tangible help, but support, encouragement, and an occasion hug would be greatly appreciated. One thing I've really come to miss since moving away from friends and family is something as simple as a hug. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. I so often find myself saying "I just want a hug."
I want someone to hold me while I cry and tell me it is going to be OK. I want them to brush the hair from my face and pull me tighter. I want to lay my head on their lap and drip snot all over their jeans.
OK, I don't really want to do that, but let's be honest, snot storms are a huge part of good cries! And that's what I need... a good cry.
Before you offer, let me warn you, whoever is going to be there for my good cry is in for a killer snot storm!
Truth be told, I am OK. I know I've been discouraged since moving here and I've made that quite known in previous posts, but tonight I sat down to write about needing a hug, which I automatically assumed was going to turn into a depressing post, but when I heard Jonsi, the former lead singer of my favorite band, singing "Around Us" in the background, I found myself taping my feet and even smiling while typing about snot storms.
With his Icelandic accent I could barely make out the chorus, so I googled the lyrics. The musical composition of the song is just beautiful, but the lyrical content just made it that much better. I will leave it up to your curiosities to search for the rest of the lyrics, but here is the chorus...
We all want to grow with the seeds we will sow
We all want to go with the trees we will grow
We all want to know when we're all meant to go
To a place you and I - Will call home
I'm not quite sure how to sort through it all right here, right now, but this does me good. Especially since moving.
I just wrote all this cheesy stuff about sowing seeds, watching them grow, or not, roots being, well, uprooted, and all the lovely analogies that come along with growth and such, but... I erased it.
I will save that for another day. Right now I am feeling good and I just what to bask in that! If nothing else, I hope this post prompts you to check out the genius of Jonsi. Take a listen... I'll bet you can't help but crack a smile and tap a beat.
Thank you, Lord, for the good moments that make me smile and remind me...
life ain't all that bad!
Not necessarily tangible help, but support, encouragement, and an occasion hug would be greatly appreciated. One thing I've really come to miss since moving away from friends and family is something as simple as a hug. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. I so often find myself saying "I just want a hug."
I want someone to hold me while I cry and tell me it is going to be OK. I want them to brush the hair from my face and pull me tighter. I want to lay my head on their lap and drip snot all over their jeans.
OK, I don't really want to do that, but let's be honest, snot storms are a huge part of good cries! And that's what I need... a good cry.
Before you offer, let me warn you, whoever is going to be there for my good cry is in for a killer snot storm!
Truth be told, I am OK. I know I've been discouraged since moving here and I've made that quite known in previous posts, but tonight I sat down to write about needing a hug, which I automatically assumed was going to turn into a depressing post, but when I heard Jonsi, the former lead singer of my favorite band, singing "Around Us" in the background, I found myself taping my feet and even smiling while typing about snot storms.
With his Icelandic accent I could barely make out the chorus, so I googled the lyrics. The musical composition of the song is just beautiful, but the lyrical content just made it that much better. I will leave it up to your curiosities to search for the rest of the lyrics, but here is the chorus...
We all want to grow with the seeds we will sow
We all want to go with the trees we will grow
We all want to know when we're all meant to go
To a place you and I - Will call home
I'm not quite sure how to sort through it all right here, right now, but this does me good. Especially since moving.
I just wrote all this cheesy stuff about sowing seeds, watching them grow, or not, roots being, well, uprooted, and all the lovely analogies that come along with growth and such, but... I erased it.
I will save that for another day. Right now I am feeling good and I just what to bask in that! If nothing else, I hope this post prompts you to check out the genius of Jonsi. Take a listen... I'll bet you can't help but crack a smile and tap a beat.
Thank you, Lord, for the good moments that make me smile and remind me...
life ain't all that bad!
Saturday, November 6, 2010
be calm
I went to see one of my favorite bands perform about a week ago in Southeast Portland, and it was, to say the least, amazing. Well ok, the venue wasn't that great and the number of teeny boppers greatly out weighed the number of "older, more mature concert goers" such as myself that I thought would be there, but audience surroundings aside, the performance put on by the lead singer was out of this world.
As I think about it, maybe that's what was so great about it, maybe he wasn't really "performing" but just being real with the audience. The emotion you felt as he sang about his heartache just made you want to smile and cry all at the same time. Smile because, as he put it, he's finally happy, but cry because the songs he sang just poured out such heavy emotions that thinking of him going through such a hard time was just too much for you to take in, even if you only knew him as someone on stage.
As he started to sing my favorite song of his, he pointed out that it had been written on the very street we were on. He said he was here in Portland visiting his sister and they were walking down Hawthorne street, which is coincidentally one of my favorite streets in Portland, and it was just a really rough season of life for him. As they walked, they passed a homeless man who just kept singing over and over again to himself "be calm, be calm, be calm." Nate, the lead singer, wrote it down and the words stuck with him, until this song came out of it.
There's one place, as of right now, where I can go and feel at home. When things are hard, or I am sad or lonely, or I just want to read and write, I go to this little coffee shop in Southeast Portland, on Hawthorne street and I sit and feel as if every thing is right with the world. In fact, as I sit here and type this I am in that very coffee shop, feeling very calm and peaceful even though I know when I walk out that door, I will have to face the heartache that I feel I am experiencing during this time of transition.
And so, I think back to the song I heard that was written on this very street, and as I prepare to head out and walk down that street, I hum this tune and remind myself to be calm. I know I feel like I am breaking down, and everything's wrong, and that it gets so hard sometimes, but JJ, just be calm.
--------------------------------------
Be Calm by fun.
As I walk through the streets of my new city
my back feeling much better, I suppose
I've reclaimed the use of my imagination
for better or for worse, I've yet to know
but I always knew you'd be the one to understand me,
I guess that's why it took so long to get things right.
Suddenly I'm lost
On my street
On my block
Oh why, Oh why
Oh why haven't you been there for me?
Can't you see, I'm losing my mind this time?
This time I think it's for real, I can see
All the tree tops turning red
The beggars near bodegas grin at me
I think they want something
I close my eyes, I tell myself to breathe
and be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
Oh I know that it gets so hard sometimes.
Be calm.
I'm scared that everyone is out to get me.
"These days before you speak to me you pause."
"I always see you looking out your window."
"After all, you lost your band, you left your mom."
Now every single crack, every penny that I pass,
says I should either leave or pick it up
But with every single buck I've made
I'm saddled with bad luck that came
the moment I was baptized
or when I found out one day I'm gonna die
if only I could find my people or my place in life
a when they come a'carolin'
so loud, so bright, the theremin
will lead us to a chorus
where we'll all rejoice and sing a song that goes:
Oh be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
I know that it gets so hard sometimes,
Be calm.
Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive
and everything's wrong
It just gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.
I don't remember much that night,
Just walking, thinking fondly of you
Thinking how the worst is yet to come
When from that street corner came a song
And I can't remember the man,
The panhandler or his melody.
The words exchanged had far exceeded any change I'd given thee.
Oh be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
Oh I know that it gets so hard sometimes,
Be calm.
Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it still thinks you're alive
and everything's wrong
It just gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.
Be calm.
As I think about it, maybe that's what was so great about it, maybe he wasn't really "performing" but just being real with the audience. The emotion you felt as he sang about his heartache just made you want to smile and cry all at the same time. Smile because, as he put it, he's finally happy, but cry because the songs he sang just poured out such heavy emotions that thinking of him going through such a hard time was just too much for you to take in, even if you only knew him as someone on stage.
As he started to sing my favorite song of his, he pointed out that it had been written on the very street we were on. He said he was here in Portland visiting his sister and they were walking down Hawthorne street, which is coincidentally one of my favorite streets in Portland, and it was just a really rough season of life for him. As they walked, they passed a homeless man who just kept singing over and over again to himself "be calm, be calm, be calm." Nate, the lead singer, wrote it down and the words stuck with him, until this song came out of it.
There's one place, as of right now, where I can go and feel at home. When things are hard, or I am sad or lonely, or I just want to read and write, I go to this little coffee shop in Southeast Portland, on Hawthorne street and I sit and feel as if every thing is right with the world. In fact, as I sit here and type this I am in that very coffee shop, feeling very calm and peaceful even though I know when I walk out that door, I will have to face the heartache that I feel I am experiencing during this time of transition.
And so, I think back to the song I heard that was written on this very street, and as I prepare to head out and walk down that street, I hum this tune and remind myself to be calm. I know I feel like I am breaking down, and everything's wrong, and that it gets so hard sometimes, but JJ, just be calm.
--------------------------------------
Be Calm by fun.
As I walk through the streets of my new city
my back feeling much better, I suppose
I've reclaimed the use of my imagination
for better or for worse, I've yet to know
but I always knew you'd be the one to understand me,
I guess that's why it took so long to get things right.
Suddenly I'm lost
On my street
On my block
Oh why, Oh why
Oh why haven't you been there for me?
Can't you see, I'm losing my mind this time?
This time I think it's for real, I can see
All the tree tops turning red
The beggars near bodegas grin at me
I think they want something
I close my eyes, I tell myself to breathe
and be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
Oh I know that it gets so hard sometimes.
Be calm.
I'm scared that everyone is out to get me.
"These days before you speak to me you pause."
"I always see you looking out your window."
"After all, you lost your band, you left your mom."
Now every single crack, every penny that I pass,
says I should either leave or pick it up
But with every single buck I've made
I'm saddled with bad luck that came
the moment I was baptized
or when I found out one day I'm gonna die
if only I could find my people or my place in life
a when they come a'carolin'
so loud, so bright, the theremin
will lead us to a chorus
where we'll all rejoice and sing a song that goes:
Oh be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
I know that it gets so hard sometimes,
Be calm.
Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive
and everything's wrong
It just gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.
I don't remember much that night,
Just walking, thinking fondly of you
Thinking how the worst is yet to come
When from that street corner came a song
And I can't remember the man,
The panhandler or his melody.
The words exchanged had far exceeded any change I'd given thee.
Oh be calm.
Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
Oh I know that it gets so hard sometimes,
Be calm.
Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it still thinks you're alive
and everything's wrong
It just gets so hard sometimes
Be calm.
Be calm.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
peace out, Portland
I can't sleep.
I have to get up for work at 5am and I've usually been asleep for 2 hours by now, but alas, this evening I find myself lying in bed, wide awake, 2 hours past my usual 9pm bedtime.
I know, I live an exciting life. I was reminded of how exciting it is when I went to update my profile and change my age from 26 to 27. "Am I really changing this again?," I thought to myself. Followed by, "do I really usually go to bed at 9pm?"
I'm sure it's the endless sea of thoughts sloshing about in my head, or the coffee I had way too late in the afternoon (geez, I do sound lame), but either way I'm feeling quite rebellious staying up "so late" to write. While I admit, I can't do this every night thanks to my lovely work schedule, it is a nice change of pace to do something out of the ordinary... something that reminds me of a time in life when I was really happy. Something as simple as staying up late, listening to good music and recording my thoughts... sometimes for myself, and sometimes to share with others.
It's been hard to share how I feel since being in Portland, mainly because I'm not really sure how I feel. If I could only use one word to describe it would be, without a doubt, "confused."
Without a doubt, I am confused! At least I'm not confused about that.
There's so much going on and so much happening so fast that I don't really know how to begin processing it all. Within a week of being here I have started a new job, started school to study graphic design, something I have no background or even an inkling of understanding in, and have stayed two different places without a permanent place to call home yet. On top of which, I have been completely stripped of my support system, by choice (no one forced me to move here), and have rediscovered my good old friend, the three hour nap, which is especially nice on days when it rains. And guess how often it rains in Portland?
Now don't get me wrong, yes, I am overwhelmed and confused, and am having a harder time (emotionally) than I ever thought I would, BUT, that said, for whatever reason, unbeknownst to me, I have peace about being here. It sounds crazy, I know. And I don't get it either. But that's just the kind of God I serve.
Something is going on, and I'm not quite sure what it is, but I have never felt so stretched before in all my life. I've been through a lot, some of which I didn't think I would make it out of, but my time here, though still very new, is so different than anything I have been through before. It's different than just moving to a new town. It's so much more difficult. I've moved before, I know what it's like to start over again somewhere new, meet new people, acclimate to a new community, but this is more than any of that. For not having any clarity about what is going on or why I am here, I am completely aware that something much bigger than myself is going on. Something much bigger than myself is always going on, that I know, but lets just say I easily get caught up in my own self-centeredness that I'm not always aware of things much greater than little ol' me, which is a shame because those things are, well, much greater.
I'm confused about school. I don't know if I like what I'm learning, but I don't know if that's simply because it's not what I thought it would be or if I don't like it because I'm frustrated that I don't understand it. Since I am learning all of these computer programs from scratch I keep thinking I'm doing horribly, but then I get my work back and I'm actually doing much better than average. That's confusing!
Last week I had a project due using illustrator, a computer software that if you don't know what it is please ask somebody to explain it because I get a headache just thinking about it (which isn't good because it's one of the most commonly used graphic design tools). I worked so long and so hard on this project, meeting with a tutor each week just to figure out the program before I could even start the assignment. By the time I was at least "not completely uncomfortable with it" (the exact words I used), the project was due within a few short days. I completed it, which is good, but I was so unhappy with how it turned out. I hated it. I thought it was "ugly" and I didn't feel like it was anything I would ever want to put my name on. None the less, I reluctantly turned it in.
We got our projects back last night. Before the professor handed them out he said he selected a few of the grade A projects to be displayed in the hall. He held up one project specifically and asked whose it was and my heart dropped... it was mine. He said it was excellent and the only issue with hanging it in the hall would be that I needed to trim the edges of my illustration board just a fraction of an inch smaller. I was in complete shock. He handed me a paper with my grade on it and it read "EXCELLENT, 98.5%." I sincerely couldn't believe it. I immediately thought this professor was not qualified to do his job. I almost wanted to protest and point out what I thought was wrong with it but then I heard myself say "shut up, dummy!." At right about this point is where one might think I'm schizophrenic because I quickly retorted, to myself, "please, I got a 98.5, boiiiii, whose the dummy now?"
I started to wonder why I so quickly assumed that I had done poorly and my professor was unqualified to grade my project instead of believing I had actually done a good job and was given an excellent score by an extremely talented professor. Why is it so hard for me to believe the latter? Why is it so hard for me to, excuse my cheesiness, believe in myself? I started to accept the fact that I had actually done a good job (I'm still working on believing that it was excellent), but it only led me to more confusion about being in school. If I don't like what I am doing but am doing it well, is that reason to continue? If I'm going to be in debt for the next 20 years of my life, possibly more given the expense of the Art Institute, is it really worth it?
I don't know. I don't have an answer. I'm supposed to register for next semester's classes this week and I don't know if I'm going to. If I don't go back to school, what am I doing in Portland? Isn't that why I came here? The logical answer would be to go back to Chicago, right? Then why do I not feel at peace about that option? And who knows, maybe I'm looking too far into this "being at peace" thing. The 60's are over and maybe I need to get over it too, but this peace, this peace that I have, it passes all understanding of the reasons I have to leave Portland. This peace that I have is one without clarity and as much as I want the clarity more than the peace, the peace is what I have been given, for now. There is only one type of peace that I know of that passes all understanding and it is a peace not of this world.
It is the peace of the God I serve.
When someone asks, how do I explain myself about how I feel since leaving Chicago? Well, I'm learning that I don't have to explain myself to anyone, at least not in this situation. But, if I choose to explain myself, I'd tell the truth...
I feel sad, and confused, and terribly alone, but very much at peace with right where God has got me.
Friday, October 15, 2010
snickerdoodle
Have you ever noticed a tip jar at your favorite coffee shop or cafe in your area? I'm sure you have. And I'm sure you've put money in the jar when you have noticed it. The reason I'm sure you have is because the tips in those jars go to people like me, who work for minimum wage to pay for rent and bills with their paycheck and then use the tip money from those jars for necessities throughout the week like food, gas, and occasionally a good beer.
At the coffee shop where I work we get our tip money every Friday. The tip money is collected during the week, thrown into a pool and then distributed to each worker based on hours. Every Friday I know I'm going to end up with at least some cash in my hands, which is part of why I love Fridays. And no different than any other Friday, I got my tip money today. I looked at my little brown pastry bag (which is what the money is put in, I don't know why) of hard earned cash and on it read "JJ $98.00"
SCORE!
It is at this point that I am assuming I put my "smiling money," as I call it (because of all the smiling I had to do to get someone to throw an extra nickel in the jar) back in my pocket. The reason why I am assuming is because this is where my usual Friday turned into an unusual Friday.
The nutshell version of the story goes something like this...
You see, before I left work, I had a cookie, and I didn't finish the cookie so I stuck it in a little brown pastry bag (which is where cookies belong, not money) and put it in my bag. I had a few more bites before going to school and just maybe quite possibly I decided I wasn't going to finish the cookie, so I reached into my bag to grab the pastry bag and threw it away.
I immediately jumped in my car and drove back over to work to retrace my steps. I looked everywhere hoping maybe it fell on the floor. The guys that were working said they already took the trash to the dump. I walked back to my car to look again and decided that the dump was not beneath me going through for $98.00.
I dug through coffee grounds, banana peels and plastic cutlery and only found traces of everyone else's trash. I walked back to the store to tell the guys I couldn't find it and to wash my hands for longer than 20 seconds.
I started to get frustrated and tear up a little bit because I felt like that should be my natural reaction, but for whatever reason I felt remarkably calm. I almost tried to make myself get upset about everything because it just seems like that would be such a normal response, but over and over again I just kept thinking "it's not my money anyway!"
While standing on a street corner retracing my steps, I started to accept the fact that I wasn't going to find it. I started to ask God why he couldn't just let me find it, but instead, whether out of manipulation or sincerity or a little of both, I thought about church on Sunday and said "I have nothing to give you."
At that point I didn't audibly hear anything, but as clear as day I heard and I felt God say, "good. I'm not asking you to give me anything. Just spend time with me." I laughed, mostly at myself, for thinking God would want me to find my tip money just so I could tithe on Sunday.
And so instead of continuing my search, I let it go and said out loud "it's not my money anyway!"
At that point I didn't audibly hear anything, but as clear as day I heard and I felt God say, "good. I'm not asking you to give me anything. Just spend time with me." I laughed, mostly at myself, for thinking God would want me to find my tip money just so I could tithe on Sunday.
And so instead of continuing my search, I let it go and said out loud "it's not my money anyway!"
Monday, October 4, 2010
authentically weird
I know I've only been here for less than two weeks, but the church hunt has already begun.
Week 1: Door of hope... trendy, young 20-30 something year olds who make going to church look extremely cool. Appealing, right? Sure, especially because its the perfect place to bring a non-believer so you can prove that church is hip and relevant. But hopefully that's not the sole reason that draws people in, at least not the ones looking to get spiritually fed.
I've been to churches that were cool to go to, but the actual teaching wasn't really much to rave about. The actual gospel didn't have much life, and isn't that a key point in the gospel?... that Jesus not only offers us life, but life abundant?
I'll be honest, upon first entering the "church," which is really just a body of believers who meet in a theater of some kind, I questioned how much substance these people would have; especially the pastor who looked like he just stepped right off the stage of a fleet foxes concert and got tattooed by Kat Von D on the way down. Don't get me wrong, I thought he looked cool as hell, and truth be told, I would have totally listened to him for that reason alone, but when I realized that was the case, that I'd listen to him for how he looked, I realized I needed to have a higher standard for who I want to be pouring spiritual truths into my life. I decided not to judge by appearance (whether good or bad) and just listen to what he had to say.
He opened his mouth to pray the the words that came out were like gold coins pouring out from a slot machine... I couldn't get enough of them. I just wanted him to keep praying and praying. He prayed with more vulnerability and transparency than I thought most pastors ever would (especially hard core looking pastors with tattoos).
He prayed and he taught, straight from scripture, and I don't know what all the big and little hipsters around me were thinking, but it was awesome.
He talked about how it's so common these days for people to have open relationships with each other, not really committing to any one person, but keeping their options open while holding onto plan B just in case nothing else worked out. And after talking on this subject for a while he asked me (well, he asked all of us) "Do you have an open relationship with Christ? Is there compromise in your life?"
Now again, I'm fresh in to the city of Portland, so I'm not going to claim to know everything about it, but one thing that I have picked up on is that it is a very free-spirited, open to everything, don't put all your eggs in one basket kind of place. There's a lot of spiritual stuff going on here, but I wouldn't say its all positive. It's portrayed as positive because you hear a lot about self awareness, self improvement, self enlightenment, and anything else that involves reaching a higher self, but when its all rooted in self and self is the foundation upon which you improve yourself, that's not very positive... its selfish, and its lonely.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in taking care of yourself. I believe way too many "Christians" just serve, serve, serve thinking that if they take one minute of time to themselves they are being selfish, but I wholeheartedly disagree. It is not selfish to take care of yourself. It is scriptural. Jesus rested. Jesus spent time alone. Jesus wept. Jesus went off away from the crowds to be with His father. Are we not called to model after Jesus? Even Jesus knew when enough was enough and the time had come to be alone... to allow God to minister to Him the way Jesus Himself had been ministering to other people.
That said, when our foundation in who we are is solely dependent upon self alone, no matter how hard we attempt to take care of ourselves and find fulfillment, we will still be unsatisfied.
I think many people (myself included) want a cafeteria style type of faith... they want to go through the line, pick out all the good and appealing stuff, and leave the rest untouched. We can do that, no one is stopping us, but that's not real faith. That's compromise. That's being a Christian when it is fun and easy and relevant, and being something or someone else when the Christianity thing gets too hard, or too offensive, or too weird.
And I started thinking, how often in my life do I compromise who I am and who Christ has called me to be? I hate to say it, but its often. More often than I would like to admit. Being in a new town, certain anxieties have risen within me that I didn't even know where there. I mean yes, I have felt sad about who and what I have left behind and I have spent a lot of time grieving, which is part of why I haven't felt much like myself, but truth be told, the fear of what people think of me has become so strong that I have felt completely paralyzed in my own skin. Each morning on the way to work I have to pray, "dear God, help me not to fear man, but to fear you alone."
I admit, like most trendy and relevant Christians, I hesitate to use the word "Christian" because of the stigma associated with it, but once again, that's being afraid of what others think. When asked what I believe, my mind scrambles... "Oh great, if I say I'm a Christian they're going to think I'm some kind of stingy, staunch conservative who can't have fun and condemns those who do, so I better think of a cooler way of saying I believe Jesus is the son of God, died and rose again, and plays a crucial role in the Holy Trinity. Maybe I should leave out the part about flesh and blood... hmmm..."
The harder I try to be relevant, the more I feel the world chipping away at my confidence in Christ. I lose sight of Christ for the sake of relevance, and Christ is the whole reason I was trying to be relevant in the first place. Yet seeking relevance instead of Christ causes me to compromise a lot of what I believe, simply because when I'm trying to relate to the world, Christianity really does begin to sound weird to me (flesh and blood... really?)
I'm not saying relevance isn't important at all. I think a degree of it is good... we need to be able to meet people where they are at and relate to them in love they way Christ would, but when I begin focusing on relevance alone, I begin drifting from truth, and that is where I personally need to be careful.
To be a Christian is to be called out, to be set apart to be different. Let us never forget that as we find ourselves trying to be relevant in this world.
Towards the end of the sermon, the pastor, whose name I am now realizing I don't even know (so I'm going to call him Pastor Pecknold because he resembles Robin Pecknold, the lead singer of fleet foxes), said that Jesus offends us often because we are bent creatures. Pastor Pecknold warned us to "stop trying to present an unoffensive Jesus!" And he's right! People don't crucify an unoffensive man for no reason. The reality is, Jesus did and still does offend a lot of people because he brings to light what we hide in the darkness.
Paul said it best when he said,
"I am not ashamed of the gospel."
"The gospel would have to be offensive for shame to even be an issue. We are called to hate the things Christ hates, and He hates them because they destroy, not because He is cruel or a killjoy."*
So going back to compromise...
I can not continue on in partial faith or partial obedience for the sake of being relevant.
Pastor Pecknold laid it on the line and said it like it is...
"partial faithfulness is unfaithfulness and partial obedience is disobedience."
I can try and justify partiality, but the reality is, if I am being partial in what I am allowing Christ to have control of, I'm not really letting Him have control at all. And isn't that what He is asking for? For my all?
I don't claim to know much, but one thing I do know is that I'm tired of the show. I need to reconnect with my friend, authenticity, and live fearlessly sold out for the one who called me not only into existence, but into relationship with Him.
People, including my grandfather, warned me about the spiritual darkness of Portland, OR before coming here; and I won't lie, they are right... it is a very spiritually dark place. But what I've come to find is that because of that darkness there are real authentic communities of people searching hard after Christ, longing for truth and as a result of, set completely apart not only from unbelievers but even from other "Christians" I have met and known along the way.
You come to find what authenticity really means when you are removed from your Christian bubble and see people surrounded by darkness on every side, yet still living a life unwilling to compromise their convictions. It is truly inspiring.
I may be in a new place, dealing with all of the emotions that come along with moving, but after going to church a couple of times (will write later about church visit #2) I realize I have a choice for what my experience here is going to be like.
And so I am excited. I am excited to be here and to be getting involved with these communities. I am excited to be doing life with people again, from all different walks of life. Portland is known for being weird and being full of weird people (there are signs and bumper stickers all over the city that say "keep Portland weird!"), but let's be honest, we're all weird in some way, shape or form. So why should I fear what other people think?
I shouldn't. I should be authentic, even if that means me being considered weird, or even weirder than the weird... the weirdest of them all. Who really cares?
Portland is growing on me, and I'm slowing beginning to feel like I fit...
as a misfit.
And I admit, I like it!
------------------------------
*Pastor Pecknold
Week 1: Door of hope... trendy, young 20-30 something year olds who make going to church look extremely cool. Appealing, right? Sure, especially because its the perfect place to bring a non-believer so you can prove that church is hip and relevant. But hopefully that's not the sole reason that draws people in, at least not the ones looking to get spiritually fed.
I've been to churches that were cool to go to, but the actual teaching wasn't really much to rave about. The actual gospel didn't have much life, and isn't that a key point in the gospel?... that Jesus not only offers us life, but life abundant?
I'll be honest, upon first entering the "church," which is really just a body of believers who meet in a theater of some kind, I questioned how much substance these people would have; especially the pastor who looked like he just stepped right off the stage of a fleet foxes concert and got tattooed by Kat Von D on the way down. Don't get me wrong, I thought he looked cool as hell, and truth be told, I would have totally listened to him for that reason alone, but when I realized that was the case, that I'd listen to him for how he looked, I realized I needed to have a higher standard for who I want to be pouring spiritual truths into my life. I decided not to judge by appearance (whether good or bad) and just listen to what he had to say.
He opened his mouth to pray the the words that came out were like gold coins pouring out from a slot machine... I couldn't get enough of them. I just wanted him to keep praying and praying. He prayed with more vulnerability and transparency than I thought most pastors ever would (especially hard core looking pastors with tattoos).
He prayed and he taught, straight from scripture, and I don't know what all the big and little hipsters around me were thinking, but it was awesome.
He talked about how it's so common these days for people to have open relationships with each other, not really committing to any one person, but keeping their options open while holding onto plan B just in case nothing else worked out. And after talking on this subject for a while he asked me (well, he asked all of us) "Do you have an open relationship with Christ? Is there compromise in your life?"
Now again, I'm fresh in to the city of Portland, so I'm not going to claim to know everything about it, but one thing that I have picked up on is that it is a very free-spirited, open to everything, don't put all your eggs in one basket kind of place. There's a lot of spiritual stuff going on here, but I wouldn't say its all positive. It's portrayed as positive because you hear a lot about self awareness, self improvement, self enlightenment, and anything else that involves reaching a higher self, but when its all rooted in self and self is the foundation upon which you improve yourself, that's not very positive... its selfish, and its lonely.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in taking care of yourself. I believe way too many "Christians" just serve, serve, serve thinking that if they take one minute of time to themselves they are being selfish, but I wholeheartedly disagree. It is not selfish to take care of yourself. It is scriptural. Jesus rested. Jesus spent time alone. Jesus wept. Jesus went off away from the crowds to be with His father. Are we not called to model after Jesus? Even Jesus knew when enough was enough and the time had come to be alone... to allow God to minister to Him the way Jesus Himself had been ministering to other people.
That said, when our foundation in who we are is solely dependent upon self alone, no matter how hard we attempt to take care of ourselves and find fulfillment, we will still be unsatisfied.
I think many people (myself included) want a cafeteria style type of faith... they want to go through the line, pick out all the good and appealing stuff, and leave the rest untouched. We can do that, no one is stopping us, but that's not real faith. That's compromise. That's being a Christian when it is fun and easy and relevant, and being something or someone else when the Christianity thing gets too hard, or too offensive, or too weird.
And I started thinking, how often in my life do I compromise who I am and who Christ has called me to be? I hate to say it, but its often. More often than I would like to admit. Being in a new town, certain anxieties have risen within me that I didn't even know where there. I mean yes, I have felt sad about who and what I have left behind and I have spent a lot of time grieving, which is part of why I haven't felt much like myself, but truth be told, the fear of what people think of me has become so strong that I have felt completely paralyzed in my own skin. Each morning on the way to work I have to pray, "dear God, help me not to fear man, but to fear you alone."
I admit, like most trendy and relevant Christians, I hesitate to use the word "Christian" because of the stigma associated with it, but once again, that's being afraid of what others think. When asked what I believe, my mind scrambles... "Oh great, if I say I'm a Christian they're going to think I'm some kind of stingy, staunch conservative who can't have fun and condemns those who do, so I better think of a cooler way of saying I believe Jesus is the son of God, died and rose again, and plays a crucial role in the Holy Trinity. Maybe I should leave out the part about flesh and blood... hmmm..."
The harder I try to be relevant, the more I feel the world chipping away at my confidence in Christ. I lose sight of Christ for the sake of relevance, and Christ is the whole reason I was trying to be relevant in the first place. Yet seeking relevance instead of Christ causes me to compromise a lot of what I believe, simply because when I'm trying to relate to the world, Christianity really does begin to sound weird to me (flesh and blood... really?)
I'm not saying relevance isn't important at all. I think a degree of it is good... we need to be able to meet people where they are at and relate to them in love they way Christ would, but when I begin focusing on relevance alone, I begin drifting from truth, and that is where I personally need to be careful.
To be a Christian is to be called out, to be set apart to be different. Let us never forget that as we find ourselves trying to be relevant in this world.
Towards the end of the sermon, the pastor, whose name I am now realizing I don't even know (so I'm going to call him Pastor Pecknold because he resembles Robin Pecknold, the lead singer of fleet foxes), said that Jesus offends us often because we are bent creatures. Pastor Pecknold warned us to "stop trying to present an unoffensive Jesus!" And he's right! People don't crucify an unoffensive man for no reason. The reality is, Jesus did and still does offend a lot of people because he brings to light what we hide in the darkness.
Paul said it best when he said,
"I am not ashamed of the gospel."
"The gospel would have to be offensive for shame to even be an issue. We are called to hate the things Christ hates, and He hates them because they destroy, not because He is cruel or a killjoy."*
So going back to compromise...
I can not continue on in partial faith or partial obedience for the sake of being relevant.
Pastor Pecknold laid it on the line and said it like it is...
"partial faithfulness is unfaithfulness and partial obedience is disobedience."
I can try and justify partiality, but the reality is, if I am being partial in what I am allowing Christ to have control of, I'm not really letting Him have control at all. And isn't that what He is asking for? For my all?
I don't claim to know much, but one thing I do know is that I'm tired of the show. I need to reconnect with my friend, authenticity, and live fearlessly sold out for the one who called me not only into existence, but into relationship with Him.
People, including my grandfather, warned me about the spiritual darkness of Portland, OR before coming here; and I won't lie, they are right... it is a very spiritually dark place. But what I've come to find is that because of that darkness there are real authentic communities of people searching hard after Christ, longing for truth and as a result of, set completely apart not only from unbelievers but even from other "Christians" I have met and known along the way.
You come to find what authenticity really means when you are removed from your Christian bubble and see people surrounded by darkness on every side, yet still living a life unwilling to compromise their convictions. It is truly inspiring.
I may be in a new place, dealing with all of the emotions that come along with moving, but after going to church a couple of times (will write later about church visit #2) I realize I have a choice for what my experience here is going to be like.
And so I am excited. I am excited to be here and to be getting involved with these communities. I am excited to be doing life with people again, from all different walks of life. Portland is known for being weird and being full of weird people (there are signs and bumper stickers all over the city that say "keep Portland weird!"), but let's be honest, we're all weird in some way, shape or form. So why should I fear what other people think?
I shouldn't. I should be authentic, even if that means me being considered weird, or even weirder than the weird... the weirdest of them all. Who really cares?
Portland is growing on me, and I'm slowing beginning to feel like I fit...
as a misfit.
And I admit, I like it!
------------------------------
*Pastor Pecknold
Sunday, October 3, 2010
maybe
creative juices are greatly lacking.
maybe it's the move, or maybe it's the annoying voice of the girl sitting beside me, but i can't think of what to write to save my life.
i don't have to write, i know that, but i want to write.
herein lies the problem... i don't know what to write about.
let's start with the basics...
i live in a new town where i have been going new places and meeting new people. sounds simple, but it's not. for whatever reason i have found myself not at all enjoying what has become a task... the task of meeting new people. i make myself do it though, i make myself be involved (for the most part), but i can honestly say i have not enjoyed it (for the most part).
why? i don't know. and the more i try to figure it out, the more frustrated i get.
i used to love this. not only love it, i used to be good at it. meeting new people, are you kidding me? pull out the clipboard, write my name on it and sign me up!
not this time, not this move.
i just want to find a place of my own and i want to hide. i want to hide from the people, i want to hide from the city and i want to hide from the reason that i have come here.
i want to hide from the reality that it was my choice to leave behind the place and the people that i have called home for the last three and a half years. i want to hide from my grief because every time it creeps up i am only reminded that i have brought it upon myself.
and so what now? how do i manage all of these emotions along with adjusting to a new town, a new job, a new school, and hopefully a new community? who do i tell how i feel? who do i reach out to? who can i be real with? and who will listen without expectation of someone greater?
maybe the expectation to be great is one that i have placed upon myself. maybe no one expects this of me at all. yet the truth of the matter is that there is this voice, whether it be one of truth or one of lies, that tells me i need to be great... i have to be great, and i don't know how to silence it and allow myself to just be.
so maybe i'll stop looking. maybe i'll stop looking for someone to confide in. maybe i'll stop looking for somewhere to hide. maybe i'll stop looking for the girl i used to be and instead just rest.
and maybe God will show up and find me here, resting and waiting. and maybe then i will be ready for what He has planned for me.
maybe it is all actually only when i stop, be still, and know who He is that i will ever really find myself and find where i fit in this life, regardless of where i am.
maybe, just maybe, this isn't really about me at all.
maybe it's the move, or maybe it's the annoying voice of the girl sitting beside me, but i can't think of what to write to save my life.
i don't have to write, i know that, but i want to write.
herein lies the problem... i don't know what to write about.
let's start with the basics...
i live in a new town where i have been going new places and meeting new people. sounds simple, but it's not. for whatever reason i have found myself not at all enjoying what has become a task... the task of meeting new people. i make myself do it though, i make myself be involved (for the most part), but i can honestly say i have not enjoyed it (for the most part).
why? i don't know. and the more i try to figure it out, the more frustrated i get.
i used to love this. not only love it, i used to be good at it. meeting new people, are you kidding me? pull out the clipboard, write my name on it and sign me up!
not this time, not this move.
i just want to find a place of my own and i want to hide. i want to hide from the people, i want to hide from the city and i want to hide from the reason that i have come here.
i want to hide from the reality that it was my choice to leave behind the place and the people that i have called home for the last three and a half years. i want to hide from my grief because every time it creeps up i am only reminded that i have brought it upon myself.
and so what now? how do i manage all of these emotions along with adjusting to a new town, a new job, a new school, and hopefully a new community? who do i tell how i feel? who do i reach out to? who can i be real with? and who will listen without expectation of someone greater?
maybe the expectation to be great is one that i have placed upon myself. maybe no one expects this of me at all. yet the truth of the matter is that there is this voice, whether it be one of truth or one of lies, that tells me i need to be great... i have to be great, and i don't know how to silence it and allow myself to just be.
so maybe i'll stop looking. maybe i'll stop looking for someone to confide in. maybe i'll stop looking for somewhere to hide. maybe i'll stop looking for the girl i used to be and instead just rest.
and maybe God will show up and find me here, resting and waiting. and maybe then i will be ready for what He has planned for me.
maybe it is all actually only when i stop, be still, and know who He is that i will ever really find myself and find where i fit in this life, regardless of where i am.
maybe, just maybe, this isn't really about me at all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)
