Church by any other name

Tonight I went to a two-hour long discussion on what kind of church building we might build/buy, and how we might work out logistics until we have such a building, and by the time I left the meeting I was in tears.

I don't think this is all church is. Is it? A building? Is church two Sunday services (different sermons, for the love of the Book of Church Order!), a half-hearted Sunday School class or two, a Wednesday night Bible study where all of the factual questions are answered "correctly" and all of the subjective "what does this mean for you" questions are met with reticence? This is how I've lived for so long, and really in some ways it's how I’m comfortable.

So why did I leave crying?

Because of the part of me that desperately longs for more out of church than attendance. Because of the part of me that fears more. Because I feel that the kind of church I've been living recently makes my worst nightmares possible.

Because I don't want a building, I want a family.

Defeating Lies

Today I finished reading a book called Waking the Dead, by John Eldredge. (See my reading journal for more on this book.) This afternoon at lunch I read a chapter on spiritual warfare. Eldredge doesn't state that Satan has unlimited power over believers, but points out that we grant him power when we agree to his lies, lies that can come from the outside or rise seemingly from within ourselves.

You're so stupid.

You're always like this.

You can never change; you'll always be this way.

You don't love God enough.

You aren't a good Christian.

You don't witness like you should.

You aren't who you should be.

Everybody is disappointed in you. Everybody wants you to be [fill in the blank], and you're not.

Nobody really cares about you.

Everybody's busy looking out for themselves. If you want anything to happen in your life, you have to do it yourself. The dwarves are for the dwarves.

You had your chance, and you blew it.

It's staggering to realize the quantity of things like this I've told myself over the years. But what if I wasn't the one telling myself? What if I am agreeing with an enemy? What if the people who have told me some of these things were unconsciously repeating lies that have invaded their own hearts? Aren't we free to disagree with the lies? And what if we agreed with a new voice?

You are honored.

You are precious, and I love you.

You belong to me.

Your heart has been cleansed.

You shine with the glory of God.

I have equipped you with everything you need to live; not just to survive, but to live.

You are free indeed.

Last Sunday, my pastor spoke of joy and obedience. "I think Reformed Christianity," he said, "has a problem with talking about" (and I knew where he was going with it) "obedience."

Wait...really? I was expecting "joy" to be that last word. In my experience, the point at which my Reformed Christianity has most been attacked is on this level of joy and obedience, and it's usually joy that gets pushed aside. If you're like me, talking about obedience has often been just another way of talking about failure.

"If you were everything you should be, which you're not and never can be, you could have joy. But since you're worthless, what you have is a sludging through this measly life hoping that God takes you out of it quickly, because joy is only available to perfect obedience, and thus only available in heaven."

That's what I've heard, from one source or another. I'm done with that.

Tomorrow is new. And so is the next hour--even the next second. I want to stand for truth, not fall to lies. I want to live. And since the Lord of all things defeated death on my behalf, that's just what I can do.

Who's with me?

Marooooned! (Almost.)

I just got inside from being stuck in the snow. In my parking lot. My car went over the edge of the parking lot (there is only dirt on the other side of the paved area, and the dirt is lower than the asphalt), and when I put it into reverse there was only a recalcitrant whirring noise as my tires tried and failed to grab traction.

As an obvious first resort, I called my family members, who are between 2 and 9 hours away. No answer. I seriously considered calling one of my two closest male neighbors (well, the two closest ones I know) to see if somebody could come saaaaave me, but I decided I wouldn't do that until I had exhausted all of my other ideas. For instance, I realize now I've heard that you can put your floormats under tires for traction purposes. I didn't have to use that idea, but I'm putting it out there so you can see the gears are working.

Using my ice scraper, I cleared the area behind my front tires. Success!

Also, what better place could there possibly be to get stuck than outside of your own house?

Practically Perfect Weekend

Over the past three days, I have done everything I didn't want to do. Which means, of course, that I actually did want to do it, I know, but what I mean is that when I would think about doing something and then think immediately about putting it off, I just did it.

I got So Much Done.

On Friday night, I went to Tim and Lisa's and spent the evening with the two of them and Brittany. Hilarity ensued. Then on Saturday, I had absolutely no appointments on my calendar. I did everything on my list of things to do for Saturday, plus two more things that had been on my list of "Things to Do Soon." My apartment hasn't looked this good since before I had friends in this town.

One more day of the weekend to go, and I'm sure today will be as good as the others. Happy Sunday, everyone!

My First Proposal

This weekend I had my first to-my-face proposal of marriage. From a 15-year-old boy. (Later, he clarified, "You know I was just kidding, right?" But I had picked up on that before the clarification.) Anyway, it was funny, so here it is:


Andrew: "Suzanne, will you marry me?"

Me: [after an abrupt, hysterical laugh] "No, but thank you for being so direct."

Jeremiah: "Not even if you were the last man on earth."

Andrew: "I've always wanted to be the last man on earth, just to test that out...."

How true that is....

In Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie says that children are carefree, and innocent, and heartless. Meanwhile, the adults love the children, despite all that the children are doing to hurt them without caring, without even considering.

Sir James sure knew his stuff.

Maybe from now on I should stick to the jukebox in my head....

This weekend I was talking to my grandmother about computer savviness, and she said that what confuses her now is all the iPod stuff.

In similar news, I am about to swear off downloading any more songs ever because I have been having inordinate difficulties with my downloading software. Grrr.

Insert long, complicated, detailed version of events here. Also, you might as well imagine a satisfying smashing sound. I am.

Halloween Party

I wish I had a Halloween party to go to. Just because today I have my own version of Trill spots. And how would that not be cool to show around?

Hm...I wonder if my spots would run if I go to the gym before I wash my face/neck....

UPDATE

The spots did not run at the gym. However, when someone I know looked through the window and saw me, she thought I had blood running down my face. Which is probably more from the out-of-context factor then from my less-then-Westmore skills.

"No stealing!"

Sometimes fanfiction writers put disclaimers on their stories, as if that would protect them if extremely well-paid lawyers were sent after them.

Frequently, such disclaimers say things like: "The Harry Potter characters don't belong to me. Which is a shame, because then I'd be rich. And I'd really like to have Draco Malfoy, if you know what I mean." I try not to read fanfiction disclaimers anymore because they are usually this idiotic.

A common disclaimer on a fic that contains an original character goes something like this: "Clark doesn't belong to me (boo-hoo), but Jenna does! So no stealing!"

Okay.

First of all, little hyperactive fic writer, stop writing fanfiction just because you think so-and-so is a hottie. Or at least stop broadcasting it. Not even your mom cares.

Secondly, nobody wants to steal "Jenna," who is clearly a Mary Sue character, by which is meant a character that is clearly the author, except an extraordinarily idealized version of the author that exists only in her imagination.

Finally, hello, are you serious? You are writing fanfiction. And if you don't get what I mean by that, you're probably part of the problem.

The lost roots of blessing

I am beginning to feel that "blessing," like "awesome," is a word that has lost its power.

It is not uncommon for me to hear people talking about "looking for ways to bless each other," or asserting that "so-and-so is such a blessing to me." While it is true that the word "bless" carries the meaning of any sort of bestowal of good, in the Scriptural context it is a word most frequently used by and of God. When I went to Bible Gateway and looked up the phrase "bless each other," I found a grand total of zero references. The word most commonly associated with "each other," by the way, seemed to be "love."

People have asked me how they can bless me, and I have never really known how to answer. It's like having someone ask you how to love you. You love someone or you don't. You bless someone or you don't. There is no middle ground. But blessing, like love, is a nicely nebulous concept today, and it is made more so by churchifying the word—ingraining the word so deeply into common church-goer parlance that it cannot be defined.

But then, we don't need dictionary definitions of these words. We know how to love people. We know how to bless people. We know by the means Jesus laid out in all their painful simplicity: "Treat others the same way you want them to treat you" (Luke 6:31).

We love because we are loved first. We bless because we have been blessed. We are not the source of love or the source of blessing, both of which originate with an awesome God. Neither can we rob true love, blessing, or awesomeness of their power, no matter how flippantly we use the words meant to signify them. Still, shouldn't the words carry a reflection of that power?

We are far removed from the Hebrew scribes, who had special rituals that accompanied the writing of the name of God. Is all of that removal to the good?

Tonight's quote

"Guess what? You can put Gambit and Rogue on the same team, and then you can have Scott and Jean on the same team, and they can be boyfriend and girlfriend."

I responded with "What??" but what I meant was "I love you."

Who am I, anyway?

Firstly, everyone reading this should follow the above link, take the quiz, and report back to me with their answers. Go on. This post can wait. Please. Do it for your king.

Secondly, sorry about the awkward HTML. And now for the post.

I love online quizzes. I cannot emphasize that enough. Today my coworker found a "Which Star Wars Character Are You" quiz that spans the whole saga.

My first serious try was a tie...

Your results:
You are Luke Skywalker

Luke Skywalker 73% Princess Leia 73% Yoda 69% Padme 68% Obi-Wan Kenobi 66% Han Solo 65% R2-D2 61% An Ewok 58% C-3PO 54% Anakin Skywalker 51%

You value your friends and loved ones, but can sometimes act recklessly because of your emotions. Occasionally you resort to whining. You look ahead to great things for yourself.

(This list displays the top 10 results out of a possible 21 characters)


Click here to take the "Which Star Wars character are you?" quiz...


...with my second, actually.

Your results:
You are Princess Leia

Princess Leia 75% Yoda 74% Padme 74% Luke Skywalker 72% Obi-Wan Kenobi 67% Han Solo 64% R2-D2 63% An Ewok 60% C-3PO 53% Anakin Skywalker 52%

You are an excellent friend and an unselfish person, yet you like to spend a lot of time on your hair and fashion. You spend most of your time with guys that are too cocky, too hairy, or too related.

And then my coworker asked me to throw the quiz so I got the following, which she feels also applies to me.

Your results:
You are An Ewok

An Ewok 78% R2-D2 73% Yoda 72% Chewbacca 67% Luke Skywalker 66% Han Solo 63% Qui-Gon Jinn 62% Obi-Wan Kenobi 61% Princess Leia 55% Jar Jar Binks 55%

You're a hard worker, cute, and view all your close friends as your own personal tribe. Yub yub!

(This list displays the top 10 results out of a possible 21 characters)


Click here to take the Star Wars Personality Test


Any other great sites I should try out?

From Yahoo News: "Scientists Create Cloak of Partial Invisibility"

"Sightings of translucent men in lab coats reported."

Of course I'm just kidding. Apparently, the invisibility effect works only for "creatures or machines that see only in microwave light." (That quote is for real. Go ahead, click on the link and see for yourselves.)

That is a big draw for me. I don't want whatever is in my microwave able to see me. If somebody put me in a microwave, I'm pretty sure I would want revenge. And what if the combination of microwave radiation, centrifugal force, and just the right secret sauce set off a chain reaction that gave whatever was in the microwave the power to project an image of the oppressor to someone--or someTHING--who/that could avenge it?

I don't know about anybody else, but I do not want to take that chance.

Weird Al has a new song called "White and Nerdy."

Legal music downloading software was made for times like these.

"Love won't save you" ~ Anakin Skywalker

Revenge of the Sith is one of the saddest movies I have ever seen. It is also one of the most gripping. Even with the mediocre acting, sometimes awkward scripting, and overly flashy special effects sequences, the thematic material emerges strongly. I hate that I won’t have time to watch A New Hope for several days.

Over and over, in story after story, we see the darkness, in one form or another. Sauron. Emperor Palpatine. Lord Voldemort. They show no mercy or compassion, even to those who are on their side. They serve themselves, and will cut down their allies on a whim.

Over and over, in story after story, we see the side of the light, in one form or another. Gandalf. Luke Skywalker. Professor Dumbledore. They go to war when forced, and take no joy in it. They believe, in the face of any and all evidence, that their opponents can change, that enemies can become friends.

Where do the two archetypes come from? Why do they keep coming?

I am story-oriented by nature. All of life reminds me of a story, and every story reminds me of life. Sitting in the hopelessness of Episode III reminds me that I know the end of this saga. The darkness seems unbeatable, but it will be beaten.

Or, as the author of the Revenge of the Sith novelization puts it:

"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins—but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

"Love is more than a candle.

"Love can ignite the stars."

Correction:

There were only 16 kids in my class last week. The kid who had counted everybody on Wednesday said, "There are 14 boys, and 3 girls...I mean...." and it turned out he was counting my co-teacher as a boy but not counting me as anything. I love kids.

10,000 Maniacs

That, my friends, is what it felt like last night as I taught my first group of 5th & 6th graders at church.

"But what are the consequences if I break a rule? I need consequences!" -- Jacob

Then I made a semantic error in asking a room of kids what they want to get out of the class, and got some of the following responses:

• Money
• Candy
• Soon (as in "I want to get out of this class soon")

The class had 17 kids. Only three were girls. I didn't know that until last night. I love boys. I do. They are a lot of fun, and they have great energy. I know that their comments on getting out of class soon are bravado, make-my-friends laugh comments, and I knew it even before I said, "Well, if so many of you really don't like this class..." and at least half of them were quick to respond to the contrary. (There is nothing quite like an expression of total concern on the face of a 10-year-old.) But MAN, it's a challenge to get them to focus. At least the 21st century American version. They talked over each other for almost the entire time. Part of the problem is that a lot of times I want to join in on their conversations, so it's partly a problem of getting the 21st century American me to focus.

My poor assistant made his Harvest Time assisting debut last night. Afterwards, when I asked him what he thought, he said, "I don't know what to think...I think I'm glad I'm not the one trying to teach them."

Now I know the challenges in store. And knowing (I've heard) is half the battle. Onward!

Not that this has happened to me, but...

...did you ever try to communicate on the internet, only to run into the question if true communication is ever possible on the internet, leaving you to wonder if it is a flaw in the medium or you are completely incapable of true communication, possibly in any form?

Yeah, like I said, me neither.

Seriously, I know that I am a highly dramatic personality with a tendency to overstate things, even to myself. But, also seriously, I have been rocked over the past year by challenges to my perceived stellar communicating skills. Turns out many people don't actually hear me, by which I mean they don't seem to understand me.

Then again, listening is as much of an art form as communication. In the past year, I have also encountered individuals who seem to be able to read my mind.

Semi-conclusion: The internet is not necessarily a good place to discuss deep issues with people you don't know, unless you have developed a relationship with them so that in essence you do know them, or at least you know their internet communication style. Such relationships are not to be found upon every mouse click.

It's entirely possible that I have been spoiled by my awesome relationships with most anyone I've ever lived with, such that we can talk to each other and each know where the other is coming from without a lot of false starts or erroneous assumptions on either side. Hm. Why might that be?

"Because you lived with each other for years. Also, a strong common history, especially a positive one, tends to have a diminishing effect on disagreements."

Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me.

I guess I'll cut the rest of the world some slack, remember that the next mind-reading kindred spirit could come along when I'm least expecting it, and know that even people who can't read my mind can still love me.

"I'm sixteen years old! I'm not a child anymore!"

Yesterday I bought The Little Mermaid on DVD, partly to streamline my VHS collection. I find that I am loath to part with the VHS. I remember getting it. It's the first movie I remember receiving. It would have been—let's see—if the movie was released in 1989, I probably received the video as an 11th birthday present. I remember (from pictures) the presence of Grandma and Grandpa Crowe, Aunt Irene and Uncle Raymond, and Susan. I remember getting a wallet from Grandma and Grandpa Crowe that was blue and had my name stamped on it. I used that wallet for years (until they saw I still had it, semi-flipped out that I was in college but still using a wallet that I had when I was 11, and gave me a new one). I remember a dirt cake in a clay pot. It was my first ever dirt cake. I don't know that I've ever had dirt cake again, actually, but the memory lingers sweetly, far more sweetly than anything named after dirt has a right to linger.

The Little Mermaid was one of my first favorite movies. (The Neverending Story was on that early list, too. This means that two of my favorite movies had a character named Sebastian. I didn't realize that until tonight.) At the time I first saw it, I remember taking Ariel's righteous cry very seriously. Of course she was ready to be on her own. Of course she was old enough to get married. She was sixteen years old! She wasn't a child anymore! Sixteen was very old to me in 1989. It represented everything television and the movies told me it represented. Of course, when I actually turned sixteen myself, I found myself not dating, not fond of driving, and not all that reluctant to accept that my parents knew what was best for me.

In the carefree childhood days of 1989, it was still okay to want to be part of another world. Love at first sight was a given. Marrying a prince you had practically just met was not to be wondered at. Leaving everyone and everything you knew behind...well, that was scary then, too.

In 1991, I would experience a paradigm shift, although at the time I didn't know what "paradigm shift" meant. My favorite animated Disney movie would become my second-favorite animated Disney movie. But for two years, I was Ariel. And, in the sense that every character I have ever loved has become part of my identity, part of me is Ariel still.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to use my dinglehopper and go to bed.

Landunn

Hello. My name is Landunn. I am the second cousin of the person writing this blog. I don’t know why I’m getting so much attention if there’s already a first around somewhere.


Last Saturday, a bunch of people came to my house. I heard they were my relatives. I’m not sure what to think about that.

Being passed around a lot is tiring. People keep saying that Christmas, whatever that is, will be interesting this year. I’m not sure what they mean, but I have a feeling I should get some rest while I can.