Title Track: sXe

I used to think I was hardcore. If you know me at all – and even if you don’t – you can probably find the irony in that statement. I am not even close to being hardcore. I don’t dress hardcore (note the cardigan in my mug shot), I don’t listen to hardcore music and I don’t act hardcore. I’m quiet and conservative – nothing about me is hardcore.

But in high school, I thought I was hardcore. It started freshman year. My friend Katie, who was legitimately hardcore, always went to shows to see her friend Cam play in a band called Chinese Express. As a sheltered 14 year old, this blew me away. I didn’t know teenagers formed garage bands anymore. It seemed so 1980s. I kept thinking about that episode of Doug when he starts a band with Skeeter. Who knew kids actually did that kind of stuff?

I decided that I was going to love this band too. I adored Katie and her hardcore clothing and scene hairstyle and musical knowledge, so I played copycat. Katie burned me Chinese Express’s CD and I pretended to enjoy all the screaming. (Though, I did listen to a lot of semi-hardcore music at the time – lots of Emery – I didn’t really care for all the screaming.)

I would talk about all the local bands as if I knew anything about them: “Oh, the lead singer of SaidHe is awesome, but their music is too raucous for my taste.” Or, “Japan with an E is the worst band ever. I’d rather gouge my eardrums out.”

My junior year of high school I dated a boy in a hardcore band. Luke was the guitarist for Hanacoda, a band that broke up because its members couldn’t decide if they wanted to play for God or for rock-and-roll.

The first hardcore show I attended was at this sketchy local in downtown Fort Wayne. My favorite hardcore poet, Bradley Hathaway, was reciting some of his work and I was dying to see him. My best friend Ashley and I went together. I told Ashley, who looked even less hardcore than me, that we can’t go to this show looking like we usually do. Ashley and I typically wore bright colored polo shirts and neon headbands in our hair. I told her that we needed to look cool and tuff.

So Ashley and I wore matching shirts. We looked infinitely less-cool than we would have in polos.

At the show, Bradley recited one of his most well-known poems called, “The Annoying Hardcore Dude Who Goes to Far,” about, well, an annoying hardcore dude who goes to far. In the poem, he rattles off all the things hardcore kids stand for – animal rights, manliness, not being emo – then exposes their contradictions.

The poem says, “Somebody told me hardcore was a place to share what you believe, but I didn’t like what dude said, so I flipped him off and told him to leave.

“I’m mad at society because my parents won’t buy me a new computer, even though I asked politely. My Playstation 2 is broken, but my Xbox works. When that breaks though, something will hit the fan and I’ll express myself with rage and anger, just like a man. ‘Cause that’s how it’s done, right? You get mad and start a fight, right?”

Bradley argues that these kids are quick to stand up for trendy issues, but not for things that matter – like combating materialism or hatred.

Some hardcore kids call themselves “straight edge” (sXe), which means they are hardcore kids that are socially softcore. This is the category my friends and I fell into. We didn’t drink, we didn’t do drugs and we didn’t have sex.

I think what Bradley was hinting at in his poem is that lots of sXe kids stand up for things, but not always the right things or the best things. There’s a lack of consistency.

And I don’t think this problem is unique to the so-called hardcore or sXe kids.

I think it’s interesting how quick we Christians are to rally against something like gay marriage because homosexuality is forbidden in the Bible, but get drunk on weekends, even when there are more verses forbidding drunkenness. We boycott abortion clinics but cheer on the executions of our enemies.

When I was in high school, I really wasn’t hardcore, I was just ascribing to a culture I thought was cool. I wanted to be trendy; I wanted people to admire me.

Christianity isn’t something we can put on like that. We don’t get to pick and choose who we’re going to love or what truths we want to stand behind. If we believe in a faith that transforms us, that makes us new creations, we have to become more consistent in what we stand for.

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.

Child, I don't remember.

Saturday I felt more human than I had in a really long time.

Dr. Smith in World Civ. talks about the importance of having a big view of sin in order to have an even bigger view of Grace. Saturday my view of sin grew big. And I felt small.

Jacqueline and I watched Lars and the Real Girl (in Elder Hall on the big screen - heehee) and it reminded me of my humanity, my sinfulness, my inadequacies.

The movie is about Lars, a socially awkward guy who lives alone and hates being touched. One day he decides to order an anatomically correct doll/manikin and makes her his girlfriend. He's having a delusion - he thinks she's real - and everyone eventually goes along with it. The whole movie is about their relationship.

Lars believes this manikin, Bianca, is real. He talks to her. He loves her. He buys her things. If someone told him that he was going crazy, he denied it.

Hmm.

Richard Dawkins wrote a book a few years back, heading the New Atheism movement. The book is called, "The God Delusion." Hmm. There's that word again.

And I'm not denying God's existence. But I thought about it a lot while watching this movie. I thought a lot about Pascal too. He said that it's reasonable to believe in God, because if he is real, you'll get to heaven, but if he isn't, you'll be unaware of your delusion after death. Win-win.

Then I thought of Peter Abelard, Medieval philosopher. He believed in the importance of doubting and questioning one's beliefs. It's how you learn faith.

Then I thought a lot about love. How Lars treated Bianca so well and how I wanted a boy to treat me that well.

Then I thought about how imperfect I am. How I am just a girl, not a god. I am so in love with myself sometimes that I forget about other people.

And I thought about how I have lost all ambition, have been caught up in my silly little stories, and have no idea what I want to do with my life. I don't know if I want to change the world anymore.

Part of me wants that picket fence and 2.5 children. And a hot husband. A nice home. Lots of money.

Then the other part of me, not really standing for social justice, still hates American consumerism. Then I go and buy stuff for myself. And dream about being comfortable.

I know I'm under Grace, but I'm suddenly aware of all the rotten shit I do. (Like cussing. When did I pick that up? A few weeks ago, I think. Around the time Lindsey started calling Medieval kings stupid bastards. lol)

I guess that is what Grace is about.

We don't get excited about Grace until we realize how selfish, arrogant, dirty and self-righteous we are. Big view of sin, bigger view of Grace.

Then Jesus looks at me and says that he doesn't remember any of those things I just listed off. He forgets. He sees me as 100% righteous. Amen and amen.

And he likes it when I ask questions and doubt a little bit. He knows that this is a season. That this dry, lazy, disillusioned valley I'm in won't last forever.

--

Everybody's waving hands in the air

They're singing songs of Grace

But it feels so dead to me

Could it be that I just don't believe?

I can't let go what's holding on to me

This is just for show

'Cause you don't want to see who I am

Sure as hell not the better man

Sure as hell not the better man

I am naked, and I'm trying, but I can't make it

Oh Jesus, I'm doing all I can

I'm just a man ...

"Child, I don't remember

What you've done

Child, I don't remember

The things you're dying from"

between the river and the ravens I'm fed

It's really hard to write when nothing's going on.

I'm used to being fed up with something or obsessing over some new found philosophy I can write about for three blogs in a row. But not right now. School's out, I don't have a job, my reading's been light and uninspiring (ah, no offense, brilliant writers from whom I'm reading) and I'm not really enraged about anything. I usually am about this time. Last year I was going through my anti-politics kick, the year before that (and the year before that) I was frustrated by everyone's lack of faith. (Or something like that.)

I have spent most of my summer (so far) running errands, listening to music, reading, watching the news, watching TV, drinking coffee, redoing my Web site, inviting myself to people's houses, applying for jobs and eating cake. Not simultaneously, though that would be funny.

Anyway, my goals for this summer included writing every day (fail), reading three different magazines (fail, fail), submitting articles for publication (augh, fail) and reading nine books (I'm still doing okay). I want this summer to matter (as I say every year) but it can't get much liftoff without money to make it matter.

Here comes the punchline.

Yesterday my state tax return came - and not a moment too soon. I'm not broke - yet - but I will be soon if I don't get a job. Sure, I'd be fine if I didn't drive anywhere, ever. But if I stay at home all summer I might go crazy.

I've been selling textbooks, too, periodically, which has put a little bit of money into my account at the end of the month.

I smiled as I folded the state-issued check into my wallet because I knew that I had just enough to get by. I can still afford gas to get to my Wednesday night Bible study at Ruthanne's and I can afford to buy at least one or two presents for all the weddings and grad parties I have to go to (ahh!). But I don't have enough to waste on crap.

I have enough.

And it's beautiful.

But really hard, too.

Part of me is so frustrated that I haven't found a job yet, but the other part of me is excited by the discipline. I've never had a steady job. I work freelance or seasonal or the darn business shuts down. I'm learning to be flexible, to have to depend on God.

It's great, but it's so scary too.

Hopefully, hopefully I'll still get a job so that I can participate in more this summer.

But even if not, I will have to keep trusting.





Lauren

Between the river and ravens I'm fed Sweet deliverer, you lift up my head and lead me in your way

I love/hate Christmas

"I hate Christmas."

After my mom confessed that truth, I marveled--slack-jawed--at the bitterness of her comment. How can anyone hate Christmas? Who hates candy canes, egg nog, corporate Christmas parties, jingle bells, stocking stuffers, Hallmark original movies, wearing red all the time, tinsel, 24/7 holiday music on the radio, shopping and snow storms? I mean, those are pretty much the ingredients to happiness or something.

But then I started thinking ... maybe I hate Christmas too.

Trying to find people the right gift is harder than you would think. Especially with the standards of previous Christmases and birthdays. My best friend Ashley gave me an hour phone call with my favorite author for my seventeenth birthday, how am I supposed to match that? Give her an hour with the pope?

And the Christmas specials on TV? Please. All of them have the same theme: some old scrooge learns the true meaning of Christmas or some self-pitying 30-something finds true love. They're all the same.

And those family Christmas parties? Thanksgiving was a month ago. Really, how much has happened in that short period of time? I suppose any family gathering is fine if no one brings up politics. Again. (Knock on wood.)

See. I really hate Christmas. It's awful. It's so fake. And consumer-based. And dumb. And. And.



So I lied. I love Christmas. I mean, we have our problems, but I really love her deep down inside. I just don't think I love Christmas the way I loved her when I was a kid. I couldn't sleep a week before Christmas because I kept thinking about the my-size-barbie or giga pet I asked for.

And I just don't think I love Christmas the way I know I'm supposed to love her, for the ultimate gift: the Messiah. I'm trying to revel in the miracles, in the prophecy and everything else surrounding the birth in Bethlehem. But I can't. I just don't seem to get it yet.

The Israelites were doing okay without a Messiah. I mean, sure they turned from God every other king or so, but they got right back to it. They just needed a good leader. A David or a Josiah or a Nehemiah or something. God still took them back. He forgave them.

Fine.

Last Christmas I decided to not be so materialistic. I had just finished reading Blue Like Jazz by the one-and-only Don Miller, and I was convicted. I tried not to want so much, but at the same time I wanted to be grateful for what I received. Even that was hard. It was hard to believe I had enough. No more, no less.

Maybe you can label my relationship with Christmas as love-hate. I want to love her for the right reasons, but I love her for the wrong. I want to hate her for the right reasons, but I hate her for the wrong.

New plan: I am going to make the most out of this Christmas. I am going to learn how to love her for the Messiah and I am going to learn to hate her for her materialism. I am. Or at least, I'll start to.



My mom just apologized to me for her holiday blues. She said she had a little breakdown. She doesn't hate Christmas, just all the pressure of social gatherings and pleasing others. I understand. I feel the same way.



With love,

Ezekiel

Jacob and Esau

Once upon a time there was a woman named Rebekah. God told her that she was pregnant with two nations, one that would rule over the other. So she gave birth to two boys: Esau first (who's name means HAIRY) and Jacob who latched onto Esau's heel (who's name means DECEIVER).

One day after a hunt, Esau came back famished--I mean, STARVING--while his brother Jacob was making some soup.

"Dude, I'm hungry. Can I have some of your soup?" Esau asked Jacob.

"If you sell me your birthright," replied Jacob.

"Well, I am going to die anyway if I don't get some soup.... what the hay!"

"Swear it?"

"I swear it."

"Sweeet."



A little while later, Daddy Isaac was dying and Esau was about to get his blessing (another right of the firstborn), so he went to hunt for some food for Pops.

Well, Rebekah must have liked Jacob better or something because she told her younger son to disguise himself in some goat hair to convince blind Isaac that he was Esau to get his blessing.

And Jacob was blessed.

Esau came home mad (and a little whiny). "Bless me too!"

"Welp," replied old Isaac, "your brother stole it. Sorry."

Esau mumbled, "He gets whatever he wants! It's not FAIR!"

"Welp, what can I do?" Isaac said.

"Don't you have another blessing? Like, a spare for a rainy day?"

"Uhm, how's this: 'You will live by the sword and you will serve your brother.'"

"Sucky." So Esau held a grudge against Jacob because he got whatever he wanted and no one seemed to care.



Years later, after Jacob had acquired two wives, his own flock of animals, a name change, and a blessing from God himself... he prepares to meet Esau.

Now, expecting to get killed by his grudging brother, he plans on giving him a pretty generous gift, to "pacify him."

Well, when Esau meets him in the road, he runs up and embraces Jacob. All is forgiven.

And everyone lived happily ever after? Right?

WRONG.

You know why? Because somewhere along the way--between Jacob's unfair blessings and Esau's unfair losses--God decides that he hates ole Hairy.

"I have loved you," says the LORD.
"But you ask, 'How have you loved us?'
"Was not Esau Jacob's brother?" the LORD says. "Yet I have loved Jacob, but Esau I have hated, and I have turned his mountains into a wasteland and left his inheritance to the desert jackals." Malachi 1:1-3

This passage was then quoted in Romans. In the Septuagint (pastor Paul would be proud) a portion of the passage reads, "Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated." Romans 9:13

And again in Hebrews: "See that no one is sexually immoral, or is godless like Esau, who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights as the oldest son." Hebrews 12:16

I mean, it is pretty bad to sell your birthright (possessions, probably flocks of animals, etc.) for a bowl of soup. That is kind of dumb on ole Esau's behalf.

But GODLESS? Can you really say that? And what real reason did God have to HATE him?

It seems like there were some pretty awful people in the Bible that God could have easily said He hated, but Esau? Is this all about soup?



This kind of brings me back to the question of predestination vs. free will. God can choose who He wants to call and who He doesn't. He can choose who He wants to have mercy on and who He doesn't. (This is taken from Romans 9.)

I feel like this is why certain people go through harder trials than others. God puts us in a certain place for a reason (and I mean this in a fairly broad term: who are family is, our hometown--things we cannot choose). Why should I live in Autumn Ridge while a brother or sister in the faith live in the Chicago ghetto? Why are my friends' parents married while mine divorced?

God has given us the blessing of a good life (a nice home, food to eat, loving parents) so we can use them for His glory... the same way he would expect those without the such things to live for his glory as well.

We should be thankful for our "birthright"--our political freedom and suburban lifestyle--instead of selling it off. We should not forget that God is the one who put us in this setting. I feel like Esau's mistake was mishandling a gift rather than using it for its true purpose. It's so easy to do that.

How often to we spend our paychecks on crap--literally, like video games, DVDs we'll only watch once, midnight cravings for BWW (guilty!)--instead of tithing or doing something genuinely godly with it? Maybe Esau just wasn't a good steward.

So be thankful for what you've been blessed with.

And don't sell it off for a good bowl of soup.



__

REASON NUMBER 6 WHY THRICE IS THE BEST BAND EVER

Unlike Esau, Thrice would not sell their souls for a bowl of soup. In fact, they are excellent stewards of their money. A portion of each CD they sell is given to an organization. The Alchemy Indexes sent money to Blood:Water Mission, Vheissu sent money to 826 Valencia (a nonproft educational organization), The Artist in the Ambulance sent money to the Syrenthia J. Savio Endowment (which provides chemotherapy to those who can't afford it), and I'm sure their other CDs sent money as well... but I don't own them to know.

They are sick, They are poor
and they die by the thousands and we look away
They are wolves at the door
they are not going to move us or get in our way

Cause we don't have the time
Here at the top of the world
Yeah we're doin just fine
Here at the top of the world

We hold our own by keeping our hearts cold

Different god, darker skin
They are just not a burden that we like to bear
They are living in sin
Just throw out any reason for us not to care

Cause we're feeling alright

Here at the top of the world
Yeah we're doin just fine
Here at the top of the world

We've learned that money matters most
So we keep our cards held close
Here at the top of the world

come out!

Thanks, everyone, for your responses. Austin, I love your answer (after begging you week after week at Starbucks-ironically enough-I'm glad that you want to save your money, woot!). As for Tom and Paul, I will answer your comments throughout this blog.



So without further ado:



Part 2.5: Jesus wouldn't drink Starbucks.



Who are we worshiping? (Tom, I believe that was your question.) Are we worshiping God or Money? Clearly in Matt. 6 it says it's up to you to choose which one you're going to call Master. So which is it?



We won't answer that quite yet.

* * *

God called us to be set apart; I will say it again and again. We are to be a "holy people," we are God's Bride. We are not supposed to follow the pattern of this world.



"Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you." [Romans 12:2, The Message//Remix]

* * *

In Revelation, John the Revelator describes a mighty empire called Babylon as being like a seductive whore:

"Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great! She has become a home for demons and a haunt for every evil spirit, a haunt for every unclean and detestable bird. For all the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries." [Rev. 18:2-3]



Her whoring days didn't last long. By verse 9 of Revelation, after the "kings of the earth" committed adultery with Babylon, she ran outta her "goods." Verse 11 and 15 say, "The merchants of the earth will weep and mourn over her because no one buys their cargoes anymore.... They will say, ‘The fruit you long for is gone from you. All your luxury and splendor have vanished, never to be recovered.' The merchants who sold these things and gained their wealth from her will stand far off, terrified at her torment. They will weep and mourn..."



Notice Babylon's connection with money. Who's suffering from "Babylon's fall?" Are the poor peasants suffering? How about Christians? It doesn't say much about them. The passage does make it clear that the MERCHANTS will suffer and weep and mourn. [And the children of the Slaughtered Lamb will rejoice.]



Notice more from that Revelation passage: "John says that [the Whore of Babylon] is drunk with the blood of the saints. Her wineglass is filled with the blood she has shed throughout the earth-of "saints, prophets, and all who have been killed on the earth"-hers is the cup of empire, slaughter, genocide, and sweatshops. Everyone has grown drunk from the blood, and they stand back and marvel, ‘Who is like Babylon?' Babylon the beautiful. But there are those who do not drink from her cup, who do not grow drunk on the cocktails of culture. Their cup is filled with the blood of the Lamb. It is the cup of the new covenant. The question becomes, From which cup will we toast?" [Claiborne, Shane. Jesus for President, 2008; p.150]



So John the Revelator paints this awful picture of a sex-and-money-hungry Whore of Babylon who entices people to do what? SPEND THEIR MONEY. Not on the poor, of course, but themselves. Sounds familiar if you ask me (hint: "We must keep shopping." George W., post-9/11)



Am I jumping ahead too much?



Consider what Ezek. 16:49 says of good ole Sodom: "She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy."



Huh.



So what are we supposed to do? I believe that was the great debate. Tithe more? Or, as Tom said, just not hang on to money so tightly? The answer:



"Come out of her, my people,

So that you will not share in her sins

So that you will not receive any of her plagues;" [Rev. 18:4]



"John's language couldn't be clearer: we are to ‘come out' of her, literally to pull ourselves out.... Scholars point out that this is erotic language and that the words John uses are the same ones use for coitus interruptus-to interrupt sexual intercourse before its climax. As John is speaking of this steamy love affair with the empire, he calls the church to ‘pull out of her'-to leave the romance with the world and be wooed by God, to remember our first love [v2:4], to say no to all other lovers. Certainly he made his readers blush. And it's not easy to pull out of a relationship of dependency and romance, of lavish gifts and captivating beauty, especially with a bride as beautiful as Rome or America." [Claiborne, Shane. Jesus for President, 2008; p.150; emphasis added]



Boom-chicka-wow-wow.



Like I said before, in this blog and others, we are supposed to be set apart. We are DIFFERENT. I am a Christian, a "little Christ," a member of the Jesus Liberation Movement, I pledge allegiance to the true Son of God: Jesus Christ.



I am not of this world.



And since we are not of this world-or as Paul says, our "citizenship is in heaven"-we are supposed to not CONFORM to our culture but, (quote it, brothe'!) be TRANSFORMED by the renewing of our minds... etc, etc.



I do not have a solution to this financial issue. Personally, through reading this book (Jesus for President) I feel convicted to STOP buying things and live like Penny* for a year.



*In Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz, his friend Penny decided to not buy clothing for one whole year.



But, can I do it? Is that what God wants me/needs me to do?



I don't know.



Nor is that the point. I'm here as a messenger. Here's what I've heard, this is what I believe is a problem.





Lauren

MORE community stuff. [this stuff keeps coming!]

Okay, so last blog I talked about more of the socio-structure of the Christian Community. But, as Paul pointed out, I forgot to mention the impetus behind the Community in Acts 2: LOVE. Because, in the words of Dustin Kensrue... (who took them from the Apostle Paul). And moving mountains ain't no thing to me; I've faith enough to cast them to the sea, but I don't know the first thing about Love. But all other things shall fade away; while Love stands alone and still holds sway.



BUT, I'm not going to discuss the Love factor in Community yet. WHAT?! No, really, I'm not. I cannot yet. I'm writing based on what I'm learning via God and the books I'm reading and the experiences I'm enduring. I haven't met that lesson yet. It's coming though.



Today I'm going to talk about the fiscal obligations of a community.



Part 2: Christianity is not capitalistic.



SIDENOTE: In yesterday's blog I used to Acts 2 passage about people giving to each other as they had need (Acts 2:44). Today I'm going to use that same passage.



I have a pretty legitimate fear. When I grow up, I am afraid that I am going to be a workaholic- capitalistic-guru. I am afraid I'm going to be like the antagonist in the song "Man in the 3k Suit" by Jonezetta, or "The Ghost of Corporate Future" by Regina Spektor, or "American Dream" by Casting Crowns...etc. I think that I am going to have a lot of money and invest it to get even more money. I will be one happy rich girl.



Now, I only say that because I know how I am with money. Frankly, I am kind of good with it. Not perfect by any means (hence my fear) but I am decent for a newly employed eighteen-year-old. I save 15%, tithe/donate 10%, and though sometimes I spend the majority of my paycheck on one fun trip to the mall, I always have a good pot of money brewing in my checking account. I like my system; my mom has taught me well.



BUT. Okay, what if I continue to do that the rest of my life, maybe invest in some mutual bonds or some stock, get a well paying job as an editor, and live a happy life as a consumer.



THROUGH THE EYES OF MY ECON TEACHER: Mr. Adams would say I did a great thing. Rich people get rich not from spending all their money, but being smart with it. If I am smart with it, I will be well-off financially.



But, I don't think that I am supposed to live like that. Yes, I know we need rich people in the world, um, to invest in important causes (cancer research, eco-friendly products, etc.) but I don't know if that is always true. At least not for Christians.



We were called to be set apart as people of God-the Church. The early church was not all about spending all their money on new iPods or investing in the Walmart stock. They gave their money. Think of Ananias and Sapphira. And where in the Gospels is Jesus seen as having money? Never. (But Jesus, knowing their evil intent, said, "You hypocrites, why are you trying to trap me? Show me the coin used for paying the tax." They brought him a denarius, and he asked them, "Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription?") That was not his money; nor was it his money found in the fish that Peter caught.



Think the Old Testament now: Every seven years all debts were cancelled (if you were an Israelite, that is). Tah-dah! AND every seven years people were to let their fields die. Not to mention, in Malachi God tells his people to tithe 10 percent.



Don Miller describes his duty as a Christian Consumer as having to "let the fields die." Though he is a best selling author and speaker, he doesn't take any money for his books-none. The guy could be as rich as Joel Osteen if he did (bah-dah-tsh!), but he understands the importance of Not Getting Addicted to Money.



Where did I get ADDICTION from all of that?



How easy is it to NOT think about money when you have tons of it, spend tons of it, and invest tons of it? It's hard.



And here's my dilemma... Does God want me to have money when I grow up? I mean, more than just enough to survive.



I bet all of you, 100% of my audience, thinks that I should be smart with my money and make sure I have some when I grow up. You would have to think that, because it's the way all of you live. You have a computer, right? If you have a computer that's a pretty good indicator you have money-unless you're at a library.



Anyway, I guess I only have half of an argument here so please, don't comment this note and call me a crazy fool.



I only know what it's like to have money. Sure, I only get $6.50 an hour, but I always have my mommy to provide me with what I need. Am I addicted to money? Maybe. I mean, I love buying clothes, I love buying new electronics. I have surrendered to the emperor, I guess. (So to speak.)



More on this later. Make this part one of part two.





Lauren