Can I petition for a 25th hour of the day, or an 8th day of the week?
I'm beginning to realize that my current schedule is not sustainable. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are 12-14 hour days between interning at the church and going to classes, Thursday's I'm in class from 8am-4pm, Friday's I'm at work at the architecture firm from 9am-5pm, and Sundays I'm at the church from 7:30am-12:30pm. Mind you, this is before I've done the reading for my 18 units of classes or any homework. That essentially leaves the Thursday evening, Friday during the slow times at work, all of Saturday and the last half of Sunday to catch up for the week.
This weekend I attended a mandatory retreat with APU on Friday and Saturday. They graciously offered to waive any class absences I would have received on Friday (of which there were none, although I did miss 8 hours of work and the opportunity to do homework), and Saturday we got back at a modest 10:00pm. I wasn't able to get to sleep last night until 1:30 because I was really sick and jittery, so I got about 4 hours of sleep. Today I remembered that we had our monthly Jr High party from 6-8pm, which I was prepared for. What I wasn't prepared for was the impromptu pool party immediately after church that went until 4:30, so I worked 12 hours with a one-hour break in the middle on a day I would normally have for homework.
It's 9:05 right now, and in 20 minutes I have a meeting for a group presentation that's tomorrow, and I'm too burnt to be able to contribute anything significant to the group. I haven't been able to read any assignments for class except on Saturdays and Sunday afternoons for the last two weeks, which means I haven't read enough to attend any of my classes fully prepared. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can cut out of my schedule, since my internship is required for school and I don't do anything else.
Tomorrow I start my 3 consecutive 12-hour days over again.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
We're All Responsible
I was recently part of a discussion group in which we dialogued about the nature of sin and responsibility, and the conclusion we eventially came to was this: We're all responsible for each others' sins.
It was an alarming conclusion that we came to that night as we gathered around to discuss Dostoevsky's work, The Brothers Karamazov. It seems, on the surface, to be a rather outrageous statement; are we to be held responsible for the wrongdoings of the people around us? I have to admit, I was about ready to shut out the rest of the conversation and keep to myself until we moved on. Fortunately, I engaged the topic.
What's at the heart of the word "responsible"? Response. In being responsible, we're called to respond to the sins of one another.
That can be taken extremely legalistically, and we can easily "point out the specks in the eyes" of everyone else. The problem is that the American church has approached the problem of sin in a very juridical way - we've broken the law, and now we need to be justified. See, the rest of Christendom (a fancy name for the Church), sees sin as a sort of disease, or a brokenness that we suffer, and thus they see the redemptive work of God as more of a healing process than as some divine legal acquittal that we experience through the substitution of Christ. So if we begin to see sin as a state of brokenness, rather than focusing on merely the act of wrongdoing, the way we interact with each other changes drastically.
In saying that we are responsible for each others' sins, we are called to respond [in love] to the brokenness of those around us.
Love Wins.
It was an alarming conclusion that we came to that night as we gathered around to discuss Dostoevsky's work, The Brothers Karamazov. It seems, on the surface, to be a rather outrageous statement; are we to be held responsible for the wrongdoings of the people around us? I have to admit, I was about ready to shut out the rest of the conversation and keep to myself until we moved on. Fortunately, I engaged the topic.
What's at the heart of the word "responsible"? Response. In being responsible, we're called to respond to the sins of one another.
That can be taken extremely legalistically, and we can easily "point out the specks in the eyes" of everyone else. The problem is that the American church has approached the problem of sin in a very juridical way - we've broken the law, and now we need to be justified. See, the rest of Christendom (a fancy name for the Church), sees sin as a sort of disease, or a brokenness that we suffer, and thus they see the redemptive work of God as more of a healing process than as some divine legal acquittal that we experience through the substitution of Christ. So if we begin to see sin as a state of brokenness, rather than focusing on merely the act of wrongdoing, the way we interact with each other changes drastically.
In saying that we are responsible for each others' sins, we are called to respond [in love] to the brokenness of those around us.
Love Wins.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Where are our priorities?
I was watching CNN the other day, and it was the first glimpse I had of what's going on in Haiti. Trucks filled with bags of rationed rice, surrounded by soldiers armed with automatic weapons, further surrounded by rounds and rounds of razor wire. Children and old women who haven't eaten in days are pushed by the crowd into the razor wire, and soon become entangled in it. And off to the side of these people are the restaveks. They are child laborers, sold into slavery and hardly noticed. They are easy prey for exploitation, they're beaten, sexually abused, and frequently denied access to education. These restaveks wait off at the side of the crowd and literally search for scraps of food that fall from the relief packs given to everyone else.
In a matter of seconds, CNN transitioned ever-so-naturally to a more important topic: Sarah Palin's first TV interview since she was chosen as McCain's running mate.
Could our priorities be any more fucked up?
Are you more concerned that I just said "fuck" than you are that there are thousands of starving and abused children in Haiti?
I should probably explain my choice of wording... I don't think our culture has any phrase more suited to communicate such a strong distortion of justice and convey that deep level of brokenness. We live in a desperately broken world, and our main priorities are on our "struggling" economy (which is still among the most affluent in the world), and how much "better" our own country will be after the upcoming election (which we feel is of the utmost importance to cover every minutiae of the candidates' campaigns).
On a side note, even the news coverage of Hurricane Ike centered primarily on Post-Katrina politics. I don't understand why human tragedies never amount to more than the political soup du jour...
In a matter of seconds, CNN transitioned ever-so-naturally to a more important topic: Sarah Palin's first TV interview since she was chosen as McCain's running mate.
Could our priorities be any more fucked up?
Are you more concerned that I just said "fuck" than you are that there are thousands of starving and abused children in Haiti?
I should probably explain my choice of wording... I don't think our culture has any phrase more suited to communicate such a strong distortion of justice and convey that deep level of brokenness. We live in a desperately broken world, and our main priorities are on our "struggling" economy (which is still among the most affluent in the world), and how much "better" our own country will be after the upcoming election (which we feel is of the utmost importance to cover every minutiae of the candidates' campaigns).
On a side note, even the news coverage of Hurricane Ike centered primarily on Post-Katrina politics. I don't understand why human tragedies never amount to more than the political soup du jour...
Friday, August 29, 2008
Peace Without Comfort
This paradox has been on my mind quite a bit these past few days (arguably months) - the idea of a peace that might be totally distinct from comfort. I'm sure this divine peace most likely applies to situations of physical and emotional discomfort as well... but in my case it applies to my theological discomfort.
See, I'm getting ready to enter my senior year of college, and at this point I have more questions about God than answers. I've read a number of different theological systems, and have seemed to identify most with emergent theology, although in a dialectic sort of way (dialectic is simply a fancy college word for "give and take"). I haven't found any system of belief about God that I've fully subscribed to (and I sincerely fear that the day I do is the day I've traded the mysterious God who somehow reveals Himself and escapes my understanding at the exact same moments for the God-philosophy that uses God as a mere explanation for the way the world around us works).
The problem with my identification with emergent theology is that, because it focuses on relationship and dialogue, and on the spiritual journey as being equally as important as the destination, many traditionally well-defined beliefs are called into question and reexamined... That doesn't leave me with very many answers.
I've also realized over the summer a number of unique challenges I face going into vocational youth ministry that, if I am to succeed at such a career, will require me to completely rethink the way youth ministry is done. The first, which is obvious to anyone who knows me, is that communication is not one of my strengths. I would rather have my teeth pulled than endure the awkwardness of standing in front of a crowd fumbling for the right words to say, even when I have well-outlined notes. The second thing is that I have virtually no natural administrative leadership skills that I'm aware of. I'm not naturally the point-man in a given situation, nor am I necessarily comfortable with the idea of being that person. All in all, I don't really fit the mold of your traditional youth pastor... I can't imagine myself getting up in front of a group several times a week, nor do I think am I a broad enough planner to cover all the bases necessary to plan a large-scale youth event.
So I'm not comfortable with my theology, and I'm not comfortable with my ability to fill the traditional role of a youth pastor, and yet there's a certain peace about it all. The peace is knowing that whatever my theology is or becomes over time, I can say that it developed naturally out of a sincere pursuit of holistic knowledge of Jesus - that is, knowledge that extends beyond intellectual conviction into everyday life and actions; knowledge that permeates a person and changes him from the inside out. And as for youth ministry, fortunately there's a God who chooses old, broken wineskins, and a God who sees my passion to enter into relationship with teenagers and really listen to them. That's the core of youth ministry - it's the end goal, and it's the part I'm most passionate about. I'm hoping to do ministry without all the answers, and that's extremely uncomfortable, but there's a peace in knowing that there's no better way to do it.
See, I'm getting ready to enter my senior year of college, and at this point I have more questions about God than answers. I've read a number of different theological systems, and have seemed to identify most with emergent theology, although in a dialectic sort of way (dialectic is simply a fancy college word for "give and take"). I haven't found any system of belief about God that I've fully subscribed to (and I sincerely fear that the day I do is the day I've traded the mysterious God who somehow reveals Himself and escapes my understanding at the exact same moments for the God-philosophy that uses God as a mere explanation for the way the world around us works).
The problem with my identification with emergent theology is that, because it focuses on relationship and dialogue, and on the spiritual journey as being equally as important as the destination, many traditionally well-defined beliefs are called into question and reexamined... That doesn't leave me with very many answers.
I've also realized over the summer a number of unique challenges I face going into vocational youth ministry that, if I am to succeed at such a career, will require me to completely rethink the way youth ministry is done. The first, which is obvious to anyone who knows me, is that communication is not one of my strengths. I would rather have my teeth pulled than endure the awkwardness of standing in front of a crowd fumbling for the right words to say, even when I have well-outlined notes. The second thing is that I have virtually no natural administrative leadership skills that I'm aware of. I'm not naturally the point-man in a given situation, nor am I necessarily comfortable with the idea of being that person. All in all, I don't really fit the mold of your traditional youth pastor... I can't imagine myself getting up in front of a group several times a week, nor do I think am I a broad enough planner to cover all the bases necessary to plan a large-scale youth event.
So I'm not comfortable with my theology, and I'm not comfortable with my ability to fill the traditional role of a youth pastor, and yet there's a certain peace about it all. The peace is knowing that whatever my theology is or becomes over time, I can say that it developed naturally out of a sincere pursuit of holistic knowledge of Jesus - that is, knowledge that extends beyond intellectual conviction into everyday life and actions; knowledge that permeates a person and changes him from the inside out. And as for youth ministry, fortunately there's a God who chooses old, broken wineskins, and a God who sees my passion to enter into relationship with teenagers and really listen to them. That's the core of youth ministry - it's the end goal, and it's the part I'm most passionate about. I'm hoping to do ministry without all the answers, and that's extremely uncomfortable, but there's a peace in knowing that there's no better way to do it.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
The Hotseat
Last night's youth group was an interesting experience. We finished out our current video series and split off into small groups to discuss what the video talked about. We did it a bit differently this week though, and each group leader was given one question, leaving the kids to move freely between groups. I thought it was a great idea until I was asked to discuss with teenagers the prompt of "Sometimes I wonder whether or not God even exists".
At first only two kids came to the group, but within a matter of minutes, there were at least 15 or 20 gathered around, each with different questions and doubts, coming to me alone for answers or guidance.
These are just some of the questions I was asked in a matter of 45 minutes... fortunately there's a gracious God who loves us in spite of ourselves who I could point to as the answer for life's tough questions.
At first only two kids came to the group, but within a matter of minutes, there were at least 15 or 20 gathered around, each with different questions and doubts, coming to me alone for answers or guidance.
Why does science always seem to contradict the things that we're supposed to believe as Christians?
There are so many religions, what if I pick the wrong one?
What if Christianity isn't the right religion?
Sometimes I worry that when we die, nothing at all will happen, we'll just be dead... then what will we have lived for?
How do we know the Bible is true, wasn't it written by men?
What about the people who are in Africa who will never even hear about Jesus, will they go to heaven?
If God has mercy on the people who have never heard about him, then why do we send missionaries to evangelize to them? I thought the whole point was that we were trying to save them from Hell, and that responsibility was all on our shoulders. Why do we evangelize then?
Will heaven really be just this cloudy place in the sky where we float around for eternity?
Sometimes I doubt God because I've never had one of those "Aha!" moments I hear people talk about in church.
What about people who don't believe in God because the church has screwed up so badly?
When I see so much suffering in the world, it's hard not to doubt God. It's like, because there's suffering, there is no God, or because there is no God, there's suffering... how can both exist?
These are just some of the questions I was asked in a matter of 45 minutes... fortunately there's a gracious God who loves us in spite of ourselves who I could point to as the answer for life's tough questions.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Finding Redemption In All The Wrong Places
I don't listen to much rap music these days; not because I'm not fond of the genre, but because most of it is stupid (I mean that in the very literal sense of the word). One need look no further than the current Top 10 songs to discover that the "rapper" has abandoned his role as an agent of social change and emerged as a 21st century minstrel, dawning the "bling" that amounts to nothing more than modern day BlackFace to entertain his audiences, all while guided by the profit-driven record companies.
In this sense, the culture of Hip Hop has fallen. It has sold out commercialism and capitalism (I could point to once popular songs written entirely about sneakers or jewel-studded teeth). It is from this state of Fallenness that redemption seems to [super]naturally emerge (how can something that hasn't fallen be redeemed?) I've been reading and interacting with Ricky Ross's blog during the past couple months. He's been attributed with starting the crack epidemic in Los Angeles in the mid-80's. He's finishing out the last year and a half in prison, and the nature of his blog reflects genuine change. He's harnessed his culturally iconic name of "Freeway Ricky Ross" and is using that to gain momentum for his new project. He's started a website that is promoting "genuine" artists who rap for social change. He's marketing "Smart is the new gangsta", and will bring this hopeful and life-affirming art into the mainstream, transforming the Hip Hop Culture into a culture of hope and brighter days.
If you still have doubts about the legitimacy of hope through Hip Hop, watch this old video of Tupac Shakur, who is often portrayed as a mindless and violent thug, and look at the redemption and hope that his lyrics give to women in urban communities...
In this sense, the culture of Hip Hop has fallen. It has sold out commercialism and capitalism (I could point to once popular songs written entirely about sneakers or jewel-studded teeth). It is from this state of Fallenness that redemption seems to [super]naturally emerge (how can something that hasn't fallen be redeemed?) I've been reading and interacting with Ricky Ross's blog during the past couple months. He's been attributed with starting the crack epidemic in Los Angeles in the mid-80's. He's finishing out the last year and a half in prison, and the nature of his blog reflects genuine change. He's harnessed his culturally iconic name of "Freeway Ricky Ross" and is using that to gain momentum for his new project. He's started a website that is promoting "genuine" artists who rap for social change. He's marketing "Smart is the new gangsta", and will bring this hopeful and life-affirming art into the mainstream, transforming the Hip Hop Culture into a culture of hope and brighter days.
If you still have doubts about the legitimacy of hope through Hip Hop, watch this old video of Tupac Shakur, who is often portrayed as a mindless and violent thug, and look at the redemption and hope that his lyrics give to women in urban communities...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Time to be critical...
I'm just going to throw this out there: I hate whatever it is that's happened to theology and theologians. I don't know if it's America I should blame, or the internet, or the blogging phenomenon that gives everyone their soapbox to preach from... Whatever it is, I'm admittedly as guilty as everyone else who participates in it.
I hate shallow, pedantic, self-serving and self-sustaining theologies that only serve the purpose of perpetuating themselves (ie, getting so caught up in proving that God exists, as if God has nothing better to do than exist)
I hate theologies that are so concerned with precise doctrine that they choke out spiritual exploration (ie, the "arrived" Christian is one who spends more time with their Bible than with their Creator)
I hate theologies that demand conformity and unanimity rather than unity and a commitment to community.
I hate finger-pointing theologies that concern themselves with the nuances of other theological interpretations rather than addressing real-life issues with the truth of the Gospel.
I hate theologies that allow us to play the role of God, be it in judgment or in determining and asserting truth and lording it over others.
I hate theologies that neglect grace, both in doctrine and in practice.
I hate that the "loudest" Christians often perpetuate an extraordinarily unchristian attitude and worldview to those who are already skeptical of Jesus and the Church.
I hate that I'm guilty of all of these.
I hate coming to grips with the fact that even in practicing and exploring theology, complete reliance on the grace and guidance of God is necessary (and that the lack of reliance is especially disastrous).
I'm too critical. I hope this post doesn't eventually become the reason I'm not hired for a church staff position... haha.
I hate shallow, pedantic, self-serving and self-sustaining theologies that only serve the purpose of perpetuating themselves (ie, getting so caught up in proving that God exists, as if God has nothing better to do than exist)
I hate theologies that are so concerned with precise doctrine that they choke out spiritual exploration (ie, the "arrived" Christian is one who spends more time with their Bible than with their Creator)
I hate theologies that demand conformity and unanimity rather than unity and a commitment to community.
I hate finger-pointing theologies that concern themselves with the nuances of other theological interpretations rather than addressing real-life issues with the truth of the Gospel.
I hate theologies that allow us to play the role of God, be it in judgment or in determining and asserting truth and lording it over others.
I hate theologies that neglect grace, both in doctrine and in practice.
I hate that the "loudest" Christians often perpetuate an extraordinarily unchristian attitude and worldview to those who are already skeptical of Jesus and the Church.
I hate that I'm guilty of all of these.
I hate coming to grips with the fact that even in practicing and exploring theology, complete reliance on the grace and guidance of God is necessary (and that the lack of reliance is especially disastrous).
I'm too critical. I hope this post doesn't eventually become the reason I'm not hired for a church staff position... haha.
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