Wishing writing could change me

Sometimes I think my writing can change me. And it always can, but only to a certain extent.

I want writing to bring me peace about a situation, but it's only temporary. I think of my smoking poem from last month. I used it to implore my boyfriend to stop smoking. He still smokes, and I no longer have peace.

It's not that I wanted the poem to change him. (I mean, yeah, a little.) I wanted it to make me feel better about the situation because at least I understood why I felt the way I did.

I want writing to revive my dry faith. I want to write a poem about how I feel about God (see "Eli, Eli") and get myself out of my rut.

But, it doesn't work like that. Writing helps, but it's not a world changer.

Still, I wish it were.

--

Everything I Am

love&hate

     together

bid farewell

to sanity

adieu, adieu—

   here’s everything I am

   here’s everything I am

It’s yours or fire

--

Scriptwriting Archive:
Broken-down Poetry, and what it means
The strenuous marriage of writing
Poetry as Therapy, pt. II
Imagination
Sh*tty First Drafts
Cross-train
Go get a life

I love you.

I call this a prose poem. 

I also call it an apology.

--

I love you.

Okay, now say it with more feeling.

I love you?

Better, but with more passion this time.

I love you?

Close, but it’s missing something. Say my name.

I love you, Caitlyn.

Say it slower though, like you mean it.

I loooovvee yooo—

Not that slow!

I…love…you…Caitlyn.

Better, but it’s still not right. Hmm. Call me something else—call me “babe.”

I love you, Babe.

Try “baby.”

I love you, Baby.

Maybe it’s what you’re wearing. Can you put something else on?

[In a hat.] I love you.

Now you look ridiculous. Say it to me over dinner tonight.

[Over dinner tonight.] I love you.

What if you were holding a ring?

[Holding a ring.] I love you.

God, that’s still not right. Someone get this guy a baby!

[With a child.] I love you.

Hmm. Take me on vacation; tell me then.

[Clinking glasses.] I love you.

Now say it while you kiss me!

Mm mmuvf mooph.

Are you trying at all?

I LOVE YOU!

You don’t have to shout it! Geez.

. . .  

You don’t love me at all, do you?

Bitch.

Creative Writing: Head vs. Heart

I wrote this over Christmas break.

I like imagining what my head and heart talk about - they're always disagreeing. This is the manifestation of that. Enjoy.

P.S. Well, just don't read too much into it. Just ... enjoy.

--
My head and my heart are always at odds with each other. Head is pragmatic, reasonable and is always making those ridiculous pro-con lists. Heart is passionate, stubborn and can convince Head of nearly anything. Today they’re in a full-out death match. (Head can be so brutal!)

HEAD: Heart, it’s time you get over this boy. He doesn’t like you anyway. Remember that movie? Let me spell it out for you: he’s just not that into you!

HEART: Gah, shut up, will you? Can’t a girl dream? He did act like he liked us in the beginning - hullo?! You were there. You’re the one who had to convince me that he liked us. I was the one who kept telling you that “oh, he probably treats all his friends like this,” or “he just likes our company.” You had to be so adamant about it!

HEAD: Well, he did seem to like us at first.

HEART: So he lost interest? Great. That makes me feel awesome.

HEAD: Hey, I don’t know. Boys can be weird. And gosh, haven’t you ever lost interest in a guy?

HEART: Well, yeah, but I usually have some good reason to. ... You don’t think he stopped liking us because of something I did, do you?

HEAD: You can be a little over the top.

HEART: But so can you, Miss Let’s-Analyze-Everything!

HEAD: I’m just doing my job, Heart. If no one analyzed the situation you’d still be caught up with your last crush ... the engaged guy? Remember him?

HEART: Hey, you promised to let that go. I wasn’t myself. I was too busy marking off your stupid checklist.

HEAD: That’s a perfectly good checklist!

HEART: It’s a stupid checklist. It is supposed to tell me what we want in a husband. Really? When did you make that list, anyway?

HEAD: Uh, five years ago.

HEART: Exactly, we were fifteen years old and you thought you’d know what we’d want in a husband. Guess what? THAT ENGAGED GUY WAS NOT OUR TYPE!

HEAD: Geesh, calm down! It was one simple mistake.

HEART: One mistake? What about TallGuy and ObamaFan and WorshipLeader? They fit your little checklist.

HEAD: Hey, don’t blame me for all of those crushes. You’re the one who fell for them.

HEART: Yeah, but not because I thought they were hot or romantic or whatever - the things hearts usually fall for. No, it was because they fit your stupid standards. Stupid you with your stupid, stupid standards!

HEAD: Stop calling me stupid! That’s very offensive.

HEART: Sorry, Head. You’re just upsetting me.

HEAD: Why, Heart? He’s just like every other crush.

HEART: But he’s not! He’s the one that didn’t fit your list, but is so perfect for us.

HEAD: How do you know without my list?

HEART: I just know. I mean, he is smart like you, and creative like me, and he sees beauty the way we do, and he is really clever and quirky, and he would fight for me - I know it!

HEAD: Is he cute?

HEART: You know he is. But that’s not even the half of it. He’s like someone you’d read about in a book and fall in love with. ... Maybe that’s why you’re so eager to get over him, because you think he’s just a storybook character.

HEAD: Maybe. ... He does seem to have that too-good-to-be-true quality about him.

HEART: And for once I didn’t make it up. He really is that amazing.

HEAD: He really is.

Sigh.

This isn’t helping anything. He’s not calling us and you are not over him yet.

HEART: So what are we going to do?

HEAD: For once, I don’t know.

--

I love that last line.

A character who wants something ...

Story.

PROLOGUE: Late last year RELEVANT Magazine died to me. On vintage episodes of their podcast, the crew joked that washed up actors belonged on a "You're Dead to Me Wall." Now they're on mine.

Around that time I read Don Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life about Don's journey editing his memoir into a film script. In the process he learned what it means to live life as a story -- a story big enough for the big screen.

As this story of mine was dying - my dream of working for RELEVANT Magazine - I started seeing how very small that story was. My dream was to work for a small entertainment magazine. Huh. Not that there's anything wrong with writing for RELEVANT - I still respect its mission, after all - but it's not something worth living for. But that's what I did ... until it died.

It was a long, slow, painful death, starting in January and ending in October. So when the time came for me to put the coffin in the ground, so to speak, I hadn't really planned for life after RELEVANT. What did I want to do with my life? What kind of story did I want to live?

In late October I prayed for a dream to take RELEVANT's place. If the fields must die, something must spring up in its place. This is about that dream.

A CHARACTER: I always play it safe. I don't take risks if I think I'll fail. I've only been rejected by two boys, and both times were done with subtle hints because "Do You Like Me?" is not in my vocabulary.

A typical conversation:
LAUREN: I hate my job! I never want to go back.
JACQUE: Do you just hate your job because you aren't very good at it, and you're used to being good at everything?
LAUREN: Indeed.

A CHARACTER WHO WANTS SOMETHING: That verse in the Bible that says, "Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart" comes with stipulations. For one, God isn't going to give you everything you want. I want Leonardo DiCaprio. I'm not going to get Leonardo DiCaprio.

But God wants us to want.

I mean, he wants us to be content with what we have - that's not the point. He doesn't want us to be greedy or covetous or envious - those are two of the seven deadly sins, after all - but he wants us to desire stuff. Mostly he wants us to desire good stuff.

He wants us to desire things like peace and justice for the people in Darfur. He wants us to desire things like health and comfort for the people in Haiti. He wants us to desire bigger, better stories that change us, that take us on journeys and out of our comfort zones.

And so I prayed. RELEVANT was dead and buried, and finally I was okay. There's something more important than writing about pop culture to a Christian audience.

Perusing Jason Boyett's blog, I came across an organization called Preemptive Love that sells handmade shoes to pay for Iraqi children's heart surgeries (through their for-profit company Buy Shoes. Save Lives.).

I was in Radio Production at the time, not paying attention to Prof. Perry, exploring the PLC site. When I read their mission statement I was so, so close to leaving class, running back to the dorm to tell Lindsey about my discovery. Because, ready for this? Best mission statement ever. (See left side of your screen. Or for Facebook readers, look up. Or down. It's hard to say.)

I don't know what I believe about a lot of things, honestly. I don't know if I really believe in once-saved-always-saved theology or what to do about the environment or how involved in politics Christians should be. ... But I know I hate war. I know that Christians are called to love people and not kill them. I know that instead of DESTROYING we should be CREATING. I fell in love with PLC.

After reading more and more about what they do and who they are, I knew that I wanted to intern with them.

--

Don learned that every story has an "inciting incident" that moves the character from just wanting something passively, to fighting to get it. It's where the conflict is introduced. Jack thinks Rose is pretty, but it takes her dangling off the edge of a ship for him to pursue her.

--

A CHARACTER WHO WANTS SOMETHING AND OVERCOMES CONFLICT: My mom does not want me in Iraq. Well, duh. I don't think anyone close to me wants me in Iraq.

Every good story has conflict - this is mine. My friends and mentors tell me one of two things: 1.) If I'm supposed to go to Iraq, Mom will magically be okay with it. 2.) I should probably not go to Iraq unless I know God wants me there.

I believe God is big enough to make Mom change her mind. I also believe God is big enough to tell me in plain language that I'm supposed to go to Iraq (or not).

And that's been my prayer - for either of those. But honestly, nothing's that clear. I will say that I feel peace about the internship, which is odd. I'm never at peace about dishonoring my mom. (Mainly because I've never dishonored my mom before.) I'm never at peace about doing something big and scary.

--

This is where my story pauses. I'm emailing my application in tonight.

God's will is still vague. A feeling of peace is not something to base a huge decision off of, right? Lindsey suggested I fast, so I am. One meal a week. Maybe a little discipline will help me hear him a new way. Maybe. I hope.

Dear friends, I need your prayers. I don't need your advice, though. Ha, I mean this in a respectful way. I've heard all sides of this; I know my options. It's listening time. It's decision-making time.


with love and squalor,
Lauren

on Forgiveness

This is the worst one.

--

Yesterday the newspaper staff had a meeting about some of the problems we've been having this year so far. I brought up a long list of clerical issues - stuff we couldn't have anticipated earlier on - hoping to diffuse any catty fighting before it began. Our staff has turned against each other; I call it "the War." I thought talking about productive issues like how to get people to turn assignments in on time would keep any emotional stuff from surfacing.

Yeah right.

The song kept popping into my head: "If we're adding to the noise, turn off this song."

I've added to the noise.

I pretended to be Switzerland; I've become Benedict Arnold, a backstabber. The traitor on both sides. I'm not a revolutionary; I'm not a Tory.

I gossip. I can't stop doing it! I slander. I don't obey the post-it note on my desk: "God wants me to love [coworker's name]."

I don't hate bigotry; I hate bigots. I don't hate war; I hate warmongers.

It's as if every lesson I've learned about love has been erased: I've edited them into nonentity. It turns out being bitter/angry/wrathful is way easier than forgiving.

--

This is the hardest one: I don't know how to forgive. I know how to say it: "I forgive you," but I don't really know how to forgive.

I wrote an essay on forgiveness for Sentence Strategies about my stepmom, about how I haven't forgiven her for her alcoholism and the effects thereof. I told her that I forgave her, and it's not that I've been mulling over her past mistakes or anything. But I still don't think I've forgiven her.

I think forgiveness takes reconciliation.

I hate that word. It's a tough, tough word. It implies action. It implies humility. It involves me asking for forgiveness for my unwillingness to forgive.

Ugh.

The thing is, I know that this newspaper stuff isn't all that I need to ask forgiveness for. There's another publication that I've stirred drama over: dear RELEVANT. I feel burdened to ask Cameron for forgiveness.

Ugh.

It's ironic that what I thought I hated about RELEVANT is the very thing I'm engaging in. I am not being very Christ-like. Huh.

--

At the beginning of this school year, I found myself hating people on campus for no good reason. This happened frequently:

Lauren: Arrg. There's [insert name of NECC intern]. He hasn't even acknowledged me all school year.

Abby: Well, why don't you say hi to him.

Lauren: But he's a leader. And it was my church he interned at.

Lindsey: Oh geez.

Those people don't need to be forgiven - isn't this interesting? - but I feel like they need to apologize to me. Huh. I think people owe me something. They owe me a "hello" or a nod or something. But they don't.

No one owes me anything ...

... but I'm in debt to them.

"Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another. ..."

They don't owe me Grace, but I owe them Grace. It's not their attitudes or behaviors that I need to change, but my own attitude toward them.

--

Before our meeting ended, Dr. Huckins closed with a prayer. He mentioned a verse in his prayer, and it stuck with me:

"Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another. ..." Romans 12:10

I like that: "giving 'preference' to one another." Not only am I going to forgive you or ask you to forgive me, I'm going to prefer you over myself. I'm going to prefer being around you than being away from you. I'm going to prefer you to be my boss and no one else.

What a radical ("rooty") picture of forgiveness. And Grace.

It's not just a way to take care of the immediate issue ("I'm mad at you about this and this") but a way to get to the root of it, to reconcile, and keep bitterness from brewing.

An Introduction

I don't know how to start this blog - I don't have a witty anecdote. I guess I could say this: the other day Molly and I were having "WTF, Jesus?" moments around the same time. I went to the Williams' prayer chapel and scrawled broken arguments to God. (I'm not sure what Molly did.)

I'm fine, really, I am. I am.

I started taking control of my life instead of letting God, and whenever I do that trouble follows. This isn't to say God is punishing me; I just don't know how to run my life as well as God. Amen, amen.

--

I want this to be a series, a four-parter: Grace, Faith, Redemption and Forgiveness. I can't do blog series because I get so bored and distracted. I write what I wanna write when I wanna write it. But this I need to do for myself, and for God. This blog series is my spiritual act of worship.

--

Why these four topics? Well. That's a good question.

In World Civ. we're learning about the 7 Deadly Sins. After discussing Greed, I began thinking about which of these sins would be friends, had they the ability to form relationships. I came to the conclusion that Greed, Lust and Gluttony would be BFF.

I figured it like this: Gluttony has to do with hungry, about getting your fill. Greed is about desiring money and possessions and stuff. Lust is about hungering for another person, for them making you feel a certain way. They're all about hunger - eros and what not.

If four virtues (are they virtues?) could be friends, it would obviously be Faith, Redemption, Forgiveness and Grace. And Love. Love would be in there somewhere. Maybe Hope too.

Anyway, Faith is about belief and loyalty - no matter what. And it takes Forgiveness to keep faith in someone or something that isn't faithful back. And Redemption is like that never-ending process that underlies it all: you the faithful are redeemed while the unfaithful is redeemed, becoming the faithful, etc.

And Grace is the hug that brings us all together.

That doesn't make much sense, I'm sure. I'm just finding correlations - it must be the economics student in me.

--

I'm processing life right now. Piece by piece by piece by piece. I know who I am. I am Lauren Deidra Sawyer. I am classy. A little quirky (no, Linds, not awkward). A writer. An avid reader. A music snob. A little sister.

But what do I do about you? I know who I am, but what do I do with you, Life? What do I do with you, Religion?

Thus: this series.

with love and squalor,

ezek.

Title Track: Christmas Story

My dad’s favorite Christmas movie is “A Christmas Story,” the one about the dorky kid Ralphie who wants a B.B. gun, but everyone keeps telling him that he’ll shoot his eye out. My sister and I think our dad was like Ralphie when he was a boy; he had the blond hair and glasses to prove it. And I’m sure my dad asked for a gun, but never got one.

Every December I start feeling really mushy and sentimental and I watch a million cheesy Christmas movies on Fa-La-La-La Lifetime. I think I’m looking for a favorite Christmas movie, because I still haven’t found one.

Instead of watching movies, my favorite thing to do around the holidays is retelling the Christmas story – the one about Christ’s birth, not a Red Ryder B.B. gun. I try to retell it differently every year on my blog, but I don’t know how successful I am. A story that pertinent is often told best in its original text. (Maybe I should leave it to St. Luke.)

But I liked how I retold it one year, and I want to recreate that. (Read between the lines.)

Christmas is not just a time for evergreen trees, Wal-mart sales, holiday feasts, decking the halls or watching the “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” It’s a time for, well. …

Around the time of Elizabeth’s amazing pregnancy and John’s birth, the emperor in Rome, Caesar Augustus, required everyone in the Roman Empire to participate in a massive census – the first census since Quirinius had become governor of Syria. Each person had to go to his or her ancestral city to be counted.

Christmas is a time to mend broken relationships – even when it’s your best friend’s roommate’s sister who stole your boyfriend away. Forgive. Even when you really don’t want to do it, forgive.

Mary’s fiancé Joseph, from Nazareth in Galilee, had to participate in the census the same way everyone else did. Because he was a descendant of King David, his ancestral city was Bethlehem, David’s birthplace. Mary, who was now late in her pregnancy which the messenger Gabriel had predicted, accompanied Joseph.

Christmas is a time to reclaim family. If you’re like me you’ve spent most of the year complaining about them (or to them). During the Christmas season, pretend you’re the Cleavers. Try to get along with your siblings, even when they drive you mad.

While in Bethlehem, she went into labor and gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid Him in a feeding trough because the inn had no room for them.

Christmas is a time to forsake selfishness. Most of us receive 26 paychecks a year. Use one of them (or part of one) to buy a present for the Salvation Army Christmas Angel Tree or donate the money to a charity.

Nearby, in the fields outside of Bethlehem, a group of shepherds were guarding their flocks from predators in the darkness of night. Suddenly a messenger of the Lord stood in front of them, and the darkness was replaced by a glorious light – the shining light of God’s glory. They were terrified!

Christmas is a time to be a kid again. Play in the snow. Wake up early on Christmas day. You have plenty of time to worry about grown-up responsibilities after Christmas.

Messenger: “Do not be afraid! Listen! I bring good news, news of great joy, news that will affect all people everywhere. Today, in the city of David, a Liberator has been born for you! He is the promised Liberating King, the Supreme Authority! You will know you have found Him when you see a baby, wrapped in a blanket, lying in a feeding trough.”

Christmas is a time to reprioritize. As important as school is, are you spending more time improving your grades or with the people you love?

At that moment, the first heavenly messenger was joined by thousand of other messengers – a vast heavenly choir. They praise God. … “To the highest heights of the universe, glory to God! And on earth, peace among all people who bring pleasure to God!” …

Christmas is a time to remember your Savior; it’s a time to relish in his Grace. It’s easy to get into the zone of the holidays, forgetting its true meaning under all of the shopping sprees and cheesy holiday specials on TV.

Don’t forget that this is a holiday that shook the world.

Everyone who heard their story couldn’t stop thinking about its meaning. Mary, too, pondered all these events, treasuring each memory in her heart.

Merry Christmas, IWU.

The blog was originally published in Indiana Wesleyan's the Sojourn newspaper.

Grace (revisited)

I wonder if this is our view of Christianity.

Some questions:

1. Does God punish us for our sins if we're under Grace?

2. Does God ever take his protection from us?

3. Does physical unhealthiness reflect God's wrath or our healthiness reflect his approval?

(Side note: This comic [via JesusNeedsNewPR] is hilarious. Jesus spanking a little girl? I mean, those anti-corporal punishment guys are probably having a hay-day right now.)

But really, that's beside the point.

Prof. Perry and I were talking about this yesterday, in regard to Dan Merchant's "Lord, Save Us from Your Followers" screening Wednesday night. Christians have an easy time pointing the finger, telling you what's wrong with you, warning you of consequences, but not showing any bit of love.

I got to sit down with Dan on Wednesday for a one-on-one chat about his book (and my Don Miller marriage plans). We got on the topic of homosexuality. I mentioned my column from last week's issue of the Sojourn and the conversation that arose at Starbucks a week or so it was published.

I let Lindsey read my column, to make sure it didn't sound like a rant or that anything I said could be mistaken for heresy. As we discussed it between the two of us, the rest of our group overheard and started their own dialogue. Soon six of us were engaging in this debate (should this even be a debate?) about homosexuality and the church.

Lindsey and I came to the conclusion that, despite what the Bible says about homosexuality or any so-called "lifestyle" sin, Christians shouldn't tell people what they're doing wrong. We should just love them.

No strings attached.

No I-love-you-ifs.

Just ... I love you. We're all human. We are all depraved. We are all the image of God. We are, as I love to say, glorious ruins.

Dan and I talked about this for a while. We mulled over Jesus' words, how he never, ever, ever, ever condemned a sinner. He stood up for them; he risked his life for them.

In John 8, when the Pharisees bring to Jesus a woman caught in idolatry, despite the law he stops the men from stoning her, dusts her off and tells her to go leave her life of sin. No "you're a dirty whore, you deserve hell" or the less extreme - "I disapprove of your lifestyle choice."

Dan also used the example of the thief on the cross. What good deeds did that man do to deserve paradise? Absolutely nothing.

So why in the world do we keep condemning people to hell?

Really, though. Why?

When we read the Gospels, and we call ourselves Christians ("little Christ"), then we flippantly blame the divorce rate on gay marriage or our addiction to pornography on the liberal media ... there's something disconnected. There's something not right.

If we could spend a little more time on the first two commandments - love God, love others - maybe people would stop hating us Christians so much.

I believe in Grace. I believe that God forgets my sins before I commit them. ("Forgiveness precedes repentance.") I believe that God cares more about people than he cares about their sins.

There's a story in Brennan Manning's "The Ragamuffin Gospel" that exemplifies this. A woman claimed that she was having visions of Jesus, so the archbishop of the area decided to test the validity of this. He told her to ask Jesus to tell her what the last thing he confessed was (in her next vision). And she did. Jesus' response? "I don't remember."

He doesn't remember.

God is the god of Present Tense.

I believe that acting righteously comes as a response - a response to God's love and grace. But if you've never experienced that love and grace from his followers, why the hell would you want to live morally?

We talk about "speaking the Truth in love," but what we're saying isn't with love. And love, real honest-to-God love is Truth.

--

I want you all to converse about this. I know half of you disagree with this. Half of you are going to say things like "but God hates sin!" and claim my doctrine is flimsy. But is it? I urge you all to challenge me, but please back it up with the words of Christ.

with love and squalor,

Ezek.

Title Track: Confession

Over the summer, I bought Derek Webb’s new album, “Stockholm Syndrome,” with its controversial song, “What Matters More,” which gave the CD an explicit label for the use of two swear words. The song stirred and convicted me, but not because of his cusswords – I’ve heard worse – but because of Webb’s criticism of the Christian culture and our reaction to homosexuality.

I blogged about the song back in August; I had never received so much feedback on a post. Most of the responses were positive (though some were negative), but either way I was glad that a dialogue was forming.

This is an issue we Christians have a hard time discussing with grace, except in our own churches with our own doctrine-abiding, non-gay brothers and sisters. And grace is the key here: we may talk about how liberal our culture is getting or about gay marriage or Ellen DeGeneres’s sexual orientation with an attitude of disdain, but can we learn to speak the truth in love?

The first two lines of “What Matters More” read: “You say you always treat people like you’d like to be / I guess you love being hated for your sexuality.” Webb sings this to Christians, those who condemn homosexuals to hell. (Not just those who hold picket signs at a gay pride festival, but those of us who turn our noses up to our gay brothers and sisters.)

According to the Barna Institute, Christians are known for being anti-homosexual more than loving or being gracious givers. We are not known for our love, but for our lack of it. They will know we are Christians by our love?

In “What Matters More,” Webb says that if Christians speak only what’s in their hearts, then it’s clear that being straight is top priority. Who cares about the poverty pandemic or genocide, about martyrdom in China or war in the Middle East, as long as boys like girls and girls like boys?

The big question of the song (“what matters more to you?”) comes from a quote by Pastor Tony Campolo that says, “I have three things I’d like to say today: First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a sh--. What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said sh-- than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night.”

Not only are we forgetting to speak to our brothers and sisters with love, we are making the LGBT community our enemy. And we are making a huge deal out of it.

I worry that some of us have the same attitude as a fictitious opinion writer from “The Onion”: “I know that if it were part of God’s plan for me to stop viciously condemning others based solely on their sexual preference, He would have seen fit … to have given me the tiniest bit of human empathy necessary to do so.”
It’s farcical, and I’m sure none of us really think that way, but it sure looks like do. And I’m included in the guilty party. I admit that I laugh at the jokes, and say something’s “gay,” or feel awkward or dirty talking about homosexuality. But this doesn’t make it okay.
God says that the second greatest commandment is to love our neighbors, even our neighbors who sin and have different lifestyles than us. Not begrudgingly love them, but with sincerity.

The greatest command is to love God, and I think that implies taking him seriously and taking his commands seriously too.

Globefest chapel speaker Dan Merchant, in his book “Lord, Save Us from Your Followers,” talks about the reverse confession booth he made at Pride NW, a Gay Pride festival. His goal was not to receive confessions from the men and women at the festival, but to confess his own sins and the sins of the Church toward homosexuals.

Merchant begins his confession: first for the Church’s mistreatment of homosexuals, then for ignoring the AIDS epidemic and finally for his own disrespect.

I want to end with a passage from his book, something that has challenged me, and I hope challenges you.

“I feel like we can go on all day about the whole ‘gay issue,’ but what I’m talking about is a people issue, a ‘we’re all God’s children issue,’ and since I’m a believer, a ‘what would Jesus do’ issue,” said Merchant. “This is about obedience and humility – and I’m not talking about the gay people, I’m taking about Christians.”



The post was originally printed in Indiana Wesleyan University's The Sojourn newspaper.

Title Track: Celebrity Treatment

I hate celebrity news. I hate it with a passion. I flip the channel when Entertainment Tonight comes on. I changed my Internet homepage when CNN covered Michael Jackson’s death too long.

But I love celebrities – Christian celebrities.

I’m not referring to those B- and D-list actors like Stephen Baldwin, or American Idols who came out of the Christian closet after they won. (Four words: Jesus Take the Wheel.) No, I’m in love with Christian writers, particularly Donald Miller.

Or maybe only Donald Miller.

Don Miller is the author of the New York Times Best Seller, “Blue Like Jazz.” He’s written four other books, “Through Painted Deserts,” “Searching for God Knows What,” “To Own a Dragon” and, his most recent, “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.”

I used to joke around with my Bible study leader, Ruthanne, who is Don’s age, saying that she should marry him. She said she won’t because he’s too liberal and he lives too far away.

I stopped teasing her about this because I am the one who’s going to marry Don.

I talked to my friend Jacque about this a few weeks ago, and she made me calculate how many years older Don is than me. Nineteen. I told her that he was in my 20-year limit. She told me that was gross.

Prior to this moment – the moment I realized I wanted to marry Don Miller – I thought I had a healthy fascination with this man and his writing. I read his books (only less than five times each), I read his blog, I’m his fan on Facebook, I follow him on Twitter, I want to move to his hometown. …

But one day I tweeted about his new book I preordered, how Amazon says that it won’t release for three more weeks. And Don Miller direct messaged me.

Don Miller direct messaged me.

For those who don’t use Twitter, that’s as good as an email. Don Miller thought about me for a whole five seconds of his busy life. He might as well have proposed.

Going to bed that night, with an ungodly amount of excitement, I realized that I might have a problem.

My celebrity crush phase did not end in middle school with David Duchovny (I was a big “X-Files” fan). I am in college and I am crushing over someone that is completely unattainable.

I do not know what to make of this. I want to reprimand myself for spending so much energy concerned with someone I may never meet. What’s the point of buying his book before it comes out? Does he know I did that? And who cares how I display the book or how I smell the pages and hug it like a friend?

Who am I trying to impress?

I think about when I make new friends and how anxious I am for them to like me. I choose my words carefully, I butter them up, I do favors I might otherwise do begrudgingly. When my friend Austin and I first became friends, I always offered to meet at a coffee shop closer to his house, and I would pay for my own drink.

Now Austin knows me as the biggest moocher ever. When we eat at Buffalo Wild Wings, my favorite restaurant, two-thirds of the time he or our friend Matt pays my bill.

I pride myself, not for the generosity I once brought to our friendship, but for my ability to persuade my guy friend to serve me.

What if I always treated people like celebrities? I don’t mean that I want to fawn over them like I do Don Miller, but to honor them and put them above myself.

In Romans 12:10, Paul says that we should “be willing to associate with people of a low position.” The Message paraphrase says to “practice playing second fiddle.”

Don Miller, in an interview with RELEVANT magazine, said that as a writer, he never wants to write a book that he isn’t proud of, to write something that is second-rate in his mind. But as a Christian, he says, he hopes he has the humility to do so.

I get excited – and dare I say, obsessive – when it comes to certain celebrities, or to people I feel the need to impress. But I want to be someone who honors others just because I can, just because I love them.

I want to learn to set my own desires and interests aside to serve my brothers and sisters. I want to start treating them and treating my neighbors and my enemies like celebrities.

The post was originally printed in Indiana Wesleyan University's The Sojourn newspaper.

on love and hate

As promised, here's another blog about Grace.

I was watching the Today Show this morning and more than one segment was dedicated to the 1989 Jaycee Dugard kidnapping. For those not on top of the news, Philip Garrido had kidnapped and locked Dugard inside a shed for 18 years. The big debate now is whether or not Garrido's wife Nancy is also guilty.

Everyone can agree -- and everybody does agree -- that this was a heinous crime, worthy of some sort of sentence. The world wants justice [mishpat] served; we want things "made right" for Dugard and her family.

But I fear that in the meantime, we forget that the Garridos are human; that God has called us to love them, even.

Jacque and I were talking about Grace (of course) a little bit on Sunday after church. We want so bad for our Christian brothers and sisters to love and to show Grace to people whose lifestyles differ from theirs.

We want Republicans to love Democrats.

We want patriots to love immigrants.

We want Christians to love non-believers.

But when it comes to loving the rapists, the murderers, the drug lords, the hatemongers, the slave traffickers, we limit Grace.

Love can only be given to these people.

Grace can only be shown to the well-deserved.

While watching the Today Show this morning, I made myself look at Philip Garrido without smirking or glaring or damning him with my thoughts. I tried to look at him the way Jesus might -- with overwhelming compassion, forgiveness and with a realization that the world is fallen.

But then I found it not so difficult.

Because really, I don't have a hard time not loving criminals.

But there are people I find hard to love,

people I find hard to show Grace to.

--

I find it easy to justify hatred when I hate people who hate people. It makes sense though, right? If you hate someone, shouldn't I have the right to hate you back?

I hate racists, but that's okay, isn't it? I mean, racism is a sin, so hating people who discriminate on the basis of skin color and nationality is justified. I hate homophobes because they refuse to see gay people as human. I can justify that.

But I shouldn't.

To allude back to Pastor Tony once again, Jesus' mission was global -- it was for everyone -- which means we are bound, we are called, to love one another. We don't get to pick and choose.

And though we may love the people most find hard to love, that doesn't exempt us from loving those we don't.

Author Anne Lamott said that you know you've successfully created God in your own image when he hates the same people you hate.

So are we loving people the way we are called to? Or are we hating people because found a way to justify it?

love.

When Jesus said "Love your neighbor as yourself."

We befriended the outcast.

We served at soup kitchens.

We volunteered for children's church.

We sent money oversees to Africa.

We raked our neighbor's leaves.

We tithed.



But when it comes to loving those people who are different than us ...

Who are a different religion.

Who are a different race.

Who are in a different political party.



We limit God's command.

Why have we forgotten God's calling?
"And what does the Lord require of you? To act JUSTLY and to LOVE MERCY and to walk HUMBLY with your God." Micah 6:8b



You may not like our president, but he has been chosen by God.

The same way God chose King David, Solomon, Josiah.

The same way God chose King Saul, Ahab, Manasseh.



Lose the hatred.

Start caring about what's on God's heart.



"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday. " Isaiah 58:6-10



---

It’s the desire of my heart
It’s the anthem of my birth
I love you 'til you cross the line
Then watch my faith turn into works

From Canton with Love.

I should mention that I'm not a spontaneous person. I am a planner. My reoccurring nightmare features me late for class or late for work because of unlikely situations that barricade my path.

But I am also an opportunist. This forms a sort of duality within me-one half involves risk taking adventures, while the other stays at home and make lists. So when this whole RELEVANT ordeal came about with less than a week to react, both sides of me got antsy, but for different reasons.

I am an official RELEVANT College Advocate, my goal being to spread the good news of RELEVANT around my campus. (I know that sounds like a self-proclaimed title, but there really is such a thing.) Because of this, I was given the opportunity to pass out magazines at the Art*Music*Justice Tour.

Luckily, most of the little details got sorted out. I chose the location I wanted to work at (Canton, OH), I had the money to go, a place to stay the night and a whole playlist of music to entertain me for 300 miles. (I should mention that I still didn't know exactly what I was doing once I got to the show until 5 minutes before I left my dorm room. I even had to call ol' Chad from RELEVANT to get that sorted.)

I left after chapel on Friday and planned to get to Canton by 5:30, and I planned to arrive at the concert fifteen minutes early and planned to get to Amanda's dorm by midnight. I have heard several times that God laughs at our plans or something to that degree. I don't know how much he laughs exactly, but he does like to screw with them a little bit.

The drive was fine. I have a nice internal map in my head. Sam used to tell me how I always knew exactly where stores were in the mall back home. I just knew that since the mallway was in a big circle, eventually you would come across what you were looking for. I think my sister's compliment went to my head. I am convinced I'm good with directions.

I found the building okay. The AMJ Tour website told me the address of the church, right across from the dirty McDonald's I tried to eat at. It was at a college campus, Malone University, a small private school like my WU.

It was past the time I was supposed to be there (6:30) but only by a minute or so. If I were to grade myself on punctuality, I'd give myself a 4 out of 5. So, I entered the back door of their PAC and wandered the hallways until I found an office.

I went into the office only slightly panicky (what's a few minutes, really?). I told them who I was and what I was there for.

They had no idea what I was talking about.

A concert?

RELE-who?

They logged onto the concert's site, pretty sure that I was in the wrong place. They found the true location of the AMJ concert: First Christian Church.

OOOOOH! They said in unison. Turns out FCC moved out of the building we were in a year ago. Noticing the panic rise a notch, a man in a suit jacket (I think his name was Rick) ushered me out the building, telling me over and over again how FCC was only down the road four miles. He gave me directions, wished me luck, and I got into my car. I re-graded myself in punctuality: 2.5 out of 5.

Rick told me to take a left at the T. I took a right. I turned around. I saw a dead end. I turned around. The numbers got smaller... they were supposed to get larger. I turned around. I panicked. Punctuality: 1 out of 5.

I somehow got to the church. I walked the classic I-only-have-10-minutes-to-get-to-class-on-the-other-side-of-campus walk (which I don't practice enough I noticed due to the shortness of my breath). I went to the ticket people and, once again, spilled my story. I don't think it made any sense.

Once the ticket-ers could understand my babbling, a woman named Claudia took me to find my booth.

Wait, where is it?

Claudia had no idea where this infamous table was, so she took me backstage to find a Mr. Troy Groves who, according to ol' Chad, knew what was going on. Troy was not around, so I was brought to a room with refreshments. Claudia told me to eat, giving me a water bottle and offering lasagna.

Another woman, Kristin, was in the room as well. I told her my story, still with a little adrenaline kick. It was like when King David (prior to his kingship) was acting like a madman at Gath so he wouldn't be recognized. It was a lot like that, except that I wasn't acting. I was a little frantic and a little foolish (I did just drive 5 hours to work at a booth that didn't exist) . . . but suddenly my Gath-moment halted when Derek Webb entered the room.

This was the guy that played on the podcast a few years ago, who was on the Mar.-April 2006 issue of RELEVANT magazine. He's the guy quoted in one of my favorite books, Jesus for President. I had this guy's CD! (Or at least I did until I gave it to Goodwill.)

And boy, he was a lot shorter than I had imagined.

Then walks in Sandra McCracken. Then Sarah Groves.

Suddenly my driving around confused for a half hour was worth it. I was here. I was among very incredible musicians--I felt renewed.

Soon after that, Claudia talked to Troy about the magazines and he said they'd get them out. . . eventually. (How ominous.)



So I bet by this point you must think I am a little crazy. Perhaps a little Gath-crazy (as I now choose to call it). So... what am I doing here?

See, this very dilemma led me to ask myself that age-old question: If RELEVANT asked me to jump off a bridge, would I do it? I am a poor, jobless college student who spent five hours driving through Ohio, got lost in downtown Canton, trailed a just-as-confused FCC member, and sat awkwardly at a concert alone. . . .

Yes, the answer is yes.

Meanwhile, Claudia had me watch the first half of the concert since the table wasn't set up. She gave me her backstage pass and permitted me to eat whatever I wanted. Really, I just wanted to stay in the back room until Brandon Heath came by. Then I would propose marriage to him. Okay, not really.

The concert was amazing. I would go into detail, but you can read a pretty thorough review of it at (SHAMELESS PLUG!) RELEVANTMagazine.com. But it was amazing. I haven't felt so close to God since I've been at IWU. I think that is the problem with a Christian school. It's hard to find the sacredness and mystery of God when you have to go to chapel three times a week. (I'll blog about THAT later.)

Intermission. I found Claudia once again and we went to look for my table. Still not there. We went back stage again, walking through a dark corridor that led to the refreshments table.

Footsteps behind us.

Brandon Heath. Claudia introduced herself as the event coordinator (and a very helpful magazine-hunter if I do say so myself) and told him my problem. Oh, I know where the RELEVANTs are.

Brandon Heath saves the day!

He set them out at his merch table and I did my duties of taking out every single subscription card and stacked them in a neat pile.

Back to the concert.

Once it was over I finally got to work. And I'll say, RELEVANTs go like hotcakes. Subscription cards do not, but that's not my fault. The economy sucks, that's why only a few people took them. So why not just blame Bush. (And my readership just got cut in half.)

Brandon was signing autographs right next to me. Now, I don't have time to go into this, really, but I have to say that Brandon Heath is the nicest musician I have ever met. Usually when people come up to tell them about a song they've written, the musician just says coooool and move on. Not Brandon. I think he's co-writing a song with a thirtysomething guy from FCC. Not to mention the guy who liked Brandon's watch. Brandon took it off his wrist and gave it to him.

I reconsidered that marriage proposal.

We packed up, I said my goodbyes (and got a picture with Brandon). Claudia and a few women from the church insisted that I didn't drive two-and-a-half miles to Ada to stay with Amanda; they had an extra hotel room, paid for and everything.

I sat in that Holiday Inn, writing the beginnings of this blog. My mind was reeling with excitement, but my heart was so low and lonely. Why did the day progress like it had? I got my answer on the way to Ada, while listening to a little Jon Foreman. (And my roommates roll their eyes. . . .)



THE LESSON:

If you made it this far in the blog, I commend you. I'm pushing 1500 words now, about five pages double-spaced if this were a paper. Stay with me. I actually learned something this weekend.

God has been teaching me about loving people, about finding what Shane Claiborne calls their "sacred humanity," looking beyond the Lifeboat, and realizing that we are ALL created in God's image. Black. White. Pretty. Fat. Short. Lazy. Whatever.

God had told me this on the way to my sister's apartment a few months ago while I listened to a new song by a Mr. Brandon Heath: Give Me Your Eyes. God wants me to stop being so selfish and obsessed with comparing myself to others so that I can see people the way He sees them. I finally saw the connection.

I got lost in Canton for a reason.

If I knew where I was going and had arrived on time for the concert, I would not have been so reliant on people. The advisors at Malone University took time out of their schedule to help me, a kid who didn't even attend their school. They didn't have to do that.

And Claudia, God bless her. I followed her around and asked so much of the other members of First Christian Church. I owe them. It reminds me of Jesus' command to give even just a cup of cool water to a little one who's thirsty. They gave me so much more: a whole water bottle full, a hotel room, a tee shirt and most of all mercy.

These people showed me mercy. They didn't know who I was.

But they cared.

I want to be like them.

God reminded me that I don't have to be in Africa serving the poor to love people. I can do it here. I can do it by asking my friends how they are doing, or offering help when a problem arises. I know I'm being vague, but I don't know all that God has in store for me. But I am willing. I want to be a servant. I want to learn to love.



Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten



Ezekiel

Welp, I know who I'm voting for.

I just got settled into school, (and already have tons of stories to tell) but I honestly don't want to waste a good, healthy blog on wildcat news. So you'll just have to ask me in person.

However, there was another big event going on this week--a bit bigger than my college escapade. The Democratic National Convention ended on Thursday with Barack Obama's acceptance speech.

Amazing.

I have been watching the DNC with a careful eye because I know that it's political. And when I mean it's political (because you already knew THAT) I mean that people are crafty with their words, careful to make you feel all the ethos, pathos, and logos of whoever's speaking at the moment.

Prior to Thursday night, I was a bit wary of declaring my party (in this election, not just in general). I just knew that I wasn't ready to declare that my beliefs rest solely on one party's claims. And, I still feel that way.

But, here's the thing: I have been doing my research. I wasn't just taken in by Obama's (truly profound) speech, I started realizing that there are more issues out there that I need to take into consideration.

Yes, I agree that abortion is wrong. Killing babies is never good (hmm unless you believe it will lower crime). I have a problem with the government making the decision on a decision like that JUST because I know that in desperate times, some women will go great lengths to get an abortion. Clothes hangers. Risky drugs.

Now they're not only harming their fetus, but themselves.

But I also believe that war is wrong. War can't be just. I'm sorry, Austin Jett, it can't be. Like the hospital manager in Iraq, as quoted by Shane Claiborne, said, "Violence is for those who have lost their imagination. Has your country lost its imagination?"

I don't believe anyone is beyond redemption. Not even terrorists. (Paul was a terrorist, and he wrote half the New Testament!)

I believe we need to carry each other's burdens, financially even. I know we have a tendency to think that since we're in America, that means everyone else has equal opportunity to strike rich. But it's not true--it cannot be true.

I mean, after reading books like Savage Inequalities, which explored poor school systems, I can't possibly think that someone from a school in East St. Louis possibly has the same chance at "success" as white suburban me.

So what do we do? We help the low income folks. We provide some healthcare, nothing wrong with that. I know that it's easy to think that once someone's been handed a freebie they will always be begging for more. Maybe that's true. But what did Jesus say about the least of these? Jesus was homeless, wouldn't we give him healthcare?*



Now, I hate when people try to convince me I'm wrong in my beliefs (about anything), so I won't try to tell you to vote Obama/Biden '08. Seriously. I just want you to examine more issues than just the one you hear about the most (abortion).

Either way, as a moral person, you can't honestly believe one party is faultless. The question I've got to ask myself is what issues concern me the most right now.



*Don't leave me nasty comments for that. I KNOW there's more dynamics in helping the homeless than just giving them handouts. But sometimes I believe those handouts (money, food, blankets, etc.) could do WAY more good than trying to make someone go through some program to get them out of their financial woes. Why? Because with a handout there's love. Or, there can be love if you show it. Programs don't show love in the same way.







Lauren

Jesus People USA.

It's been a few days... it's time to recap the missions trip.



My youth group went to Chicago, Illinois where we worked with Jesus People USA, a community of Christians that live out the infamous Acts 2 example of Church. While most of the JPUSAs were putting on Cornerstone Music Festival (the Woodstock of the Christian world), our team held down their fort.

Our jobs: Cooking for the remaining JPUSAs, working at their homeless shelter, serving their senior citizens, cleaning their main building, and, of course, showing people the light of Jesus through our actions.

Honestly, it was one of those missions trips that the focus remained on the service rather than the outreach. And after talking to my friend Amber, I realized that these are probably the best kind of missions trips (short term anyway). We get to show God's love which will make a greater impact than simply befriending people for a week then leaving them.

And so that's what we did. And truly, it was though that service mindset that we BUILT relationship and potentially CHANGED lives.

On the last night we stayed at JPUSA, we had planned a game night with the seniors. Only a few showed up (sad, sad) so my friends and I just played a rousing game of Pictionary by ourselves. Well, then there's this nice man named Jim (who wasn't really that old, but have Elephantiasis) asked if someone would like to play a game with him. Well, sure. That was why we were there.

Carlee, Nathan, and I played Hearts with him. It was amazing. We just had fun, laughed, made small talk, etc. I didn't think much of it. I didn't feel like I was working or trying to proselytize.

The next day at breakfast Carlee, Nathan, and I got a card from Jim thanking us for playing cards with him. Just a game of cards. (That I nearly lost both hands of.)

Before we left Chicago he told Sarah to thank us for treating him like he was normal. Normal.

I find that ironic. Playing cards with someone is one of the most "normal" things you can do--and he did that just fine. He may have a disease, but he was still a man. He was still a sacred human being, formed by God.

And we got to bless him.



I learned from this trip that it's not the big things you can do that solely make impact in people's lives. It's the little things. It's the scraping of grease off a pan. It's the playing cards with a lonely person.

*Ezek.

Forget About Yourself

29-31"What's the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don't be intimidated by all this bully talk. You're worth more than a million canaries. 32-33"Stand up for me against world opinion and I'll stand up for you before my Father in heaven. If you turn tail and run, do you think I'll cover for you?

34-37"Don't think I've come to make life cozy. I've come to cut—make a sharp knife-cut between son and father, daughter and mother, bride and mother-in-law—cut through these cozy domestic arrangements and free you for God. Well-meaning family members can be your worst enemies. If you prefer father or mother over me, you don't deserve me. If you prefer son or daughter over me, you don't deserve me.

38-39"If you don't go all the way with me, through thick and thin, you don't deserve me. If your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you'll find both yourself and me.

Why is this so hard? We can not commit adultery, we can not use God's name in vain, we can not murder, not even hate or steal.... but we can't stop thinking about ourselves.

What's so great about us anyways?

You know, we love Jesus when He's a fad. Those "Jesus is my Homeboy" shirts were so cool for a few months... but honestly? (I cannot say this without sounding absurd) is He your homeboy?

God calls us to love the people that make our lives miserable. Not just like or tolerate... we are called to LOVE them. And He calls us to live in the world, not of it. (That means no drugs, filthy language, greed, p.m. sex, drunkenness, and the like).

We think that being a Christian is all about talking to our friends about Christ (which we're too scared to do) and reading our Bibles (which has been collecting dust over the past few weeks). We love Christ when He makes our days good (an A on a test) and cry to Him when our day sucks (the car broke down, again).

But yet... what about obedience?

I mean this in a broad term: doing what God tells us to do. It means all the aforementioned things (talking to others, reading the Bible, praying) and more. It means being "blameless and pure children of God."

I know I am guilty of this. I know it from the core of me. But why have I accepted it?

"It is simply absurd to say you believe or even want to believe, in Him, if you do not do anything He tells you." G. MacDonald.

Annie wasn't sure what to make of it. She expected promiscuity like that from Logan or a guy from school, but never from Kyle. These past few weeks he has been so devoted to God, well, it seemed that way at least. Annie was too afraid to pick up her phone, too afraid to do anything, but stare off... hoping that maybe it would all go away.

kill the inconvenient truth

[Another attempt to find myself politically. Here's to being a left-winger. *Cheers!*]

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I'm on my dad's 2000 IBM PC. Imagine what it was like to surf the web 8 years ago. Yes, it's that bad. My dad, thanks to some neighbors who are tech-savvy, has upgraded to wireless internet. But still, it took about 2 minutes for Firefox to load. No kidding.

Nevertheless, I decided to observe my family as Annie Dillard might, with a careful and thoughtful eye. I guess I realized a few double standards--I'm not shocked or anything--but it just interested me. I will share those observations with you. (In light of Annie Dillard... the author of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek... my least favorite book at the time.)

My family is very conservative. Not like... Luke or Adam conservative (uh, make your own inferences off of that) but still, strong Lutherans. My dad's sister-in-law is probably what I would call a Neo-Lutheran (not like old-fashioned Lutheran, but still conservative).

But my sister and I are more on the left-wing side. [Me? Not as much as her, but let me lump into her group for the time being.]

Okay, back to the story.

They are conservative, which is fine. I like conservatism. I believe in tradition, the occasional legalism when need be. (Again, I'm making unnecessary loopholes here.) BUT when conservatism meets coldheartedness, I get concerned.

And my family is really nice. My aunt, the "Neo-Lutheran," is one of my favorite people. But, when liberal ideas are mentioned there are walls put up.

I hate the word tolerance because it gets such a bad rep. I don't believe you should tolerate sin in your life. BUT, I think you should tolerate, or rather, accept other's beliefs or ideals.

I heard a guy speak at an outdoor concert explaining how evolution was a delusional concept and that anyone thinking differently should be burned at the stake. He said that evolutionists are "ignorant" and according to him ignorant means "stupid." (And He said that. I quote, "People who believe in evolution are stupid." I was fuming.)

Stupid? Okay... Mr. Creationist, how's this for a try, what if we decided that instead of saying all people who are ignorant are stupid, let's say it is stupid to be ignorant about subjects and judge them anyway.

Did Mr. Creationist even study evolution? Does he not know that evolution IS real? (Microevolution, which has to exist if you believe in Noah's ark!)

My point is this: if my conservative family can judge liberals without knowing them and Creationists can judge evolution without truly studying it, how are we serving Christ?

This is no longer a political debate, but a Christian one. How is our bigotry showing people the Freedom Christ offers? It's not.

Hullo, did Jesus sit with his twelve at Seder and discuss why Caesar promoted idol worshiping? Did He sit around arguing against radical politicians or even vent about those "sinful Samaritans" over yonder? No. He loved.

And not only that (as if it weren't enough) He didn't even DISCUSS politics (not even once!) He told the story of the good Samaritan, and didn't even judge the woman at the well. "Give Caesar what is Caesar's...."

We like to remain ignorant about other people's beliefs and it builds up walls. You don't have to sell your Christian beliefs for say, Islam, just because you read the Qur'an.

It bugs me how quick people are to judge other people based off of their beliefs. I don't want to be hated because I'm a Christian. (yes, I know that will happen regardless). I don't want to be judged because I believe homosexuals should be allowed to get married.

I'll only say this once, I promise, DON'T HATE HILLARY CLINTON BECAUSE SHE IS A WOMAN AND BECAUSE SHE ENDORSES PRO-CHOICE.

For crying out loud! Jesus loves her too!

People shouldn't be judged for their beliefs (their faith in God or lack thereof) or their political party (donkeys or elephants) or anything else.

And now I'm ranting.

It's Thanksgiving: learn to love. Forget about what people believe. Forget about whether they think its okay to have sex before marriage or if they go to church every Sunday or read their Bible or vote Ron Paul or Obama.

Love them all.

Show mercy.

Speak with love.

Oh, I'm trying not to rant...,

Ezekiel

that thou art in the dark and hast no light;

Grace vs. Truth. Here we go.

At the very pit of me, the very core (the mean core, the ha... HARD core) is rather rude. harsh. I want to see justice served.

My first minglings with God started with me, on my own, reading my Bible. Not just the Gospels, not just the epistles, but the nitty gritty Old Testament old-law stuff. The dark meat of the Bible.

And with that Old Testament goodness came a lot of laws that seem ridiculous, but back in the BC days, made sense. Eye for an Eye. Stone an adulterer. ETC.

What I understood before I really became what I call myself now, a Christian, I had a good grasp on justice. I knew that God hated sin and so when people sin, they're punished. It makes sense. I hate bratty kids... they need punished (no harm in that!)

But it doesn't end there.

There is a second half of the Bible... one that is pouring, overflowing with Grace. (To quote Relient K) "The beauty of Grace is that it makes life unfair."

Yes, it makes life unfair to the perfect, sinless, non-existing humans out there. Luckily we all get a good taste of Grace because we all screw up (at least once or twice).

And that Grace extends, folks. No really, it does. It means that not only does God show Grace to His followers at the pearly gates, it means that He shows Grace to the murderers, sex-offenders, greedy, bigots here on earth. Yes, I said it.

And we should do the same.

I am hurt when people are so quick to judge. I don't like it when people don't like a certain group because of their label. And I don't like when people don't put their heart into what they say.

And maybe I'm running around in circles here. I judge too, I'm harsh, I am so quick to get angry at people who are "out to get me." Or something of the sort.

What about Grace.

What about it?

Show it. With every heartstring, with every ounce of power you can squeeze out of yourself... LOVE. Be merciful for goshsakes. This is to me as much as it is to you all. Grace is what the Cross of Christ is all about. God realizing that we are only human, and forgiving us. We repent, we devote ourselves to Christ and we get an abundant life.

Let God do the judging. Let God say who is or isn't worthy of this or that.

It's not up to us.

only a [wo]man,

ezekiel