Two things:

1. It's Tuesday diagram fun!

This was my attempt to understand 1 Peter 5:5-9. I'm sure it's more than confusing to all of you. However, as I tried to understand the cause and effect language in this letter, it ended up morphing into this.

I find it hilarious that I a) still can't draw people b) now understand this piece of scripture pretty well and c) took the time to draw a diagram.

2. We are a product of our past.

I'm trying to come up with a new playlist for Week 3 of running (12.5 miles logged thus far!!!) and I found myself thinking, "I don't have nearly enough techno or dance/rap."

Wow. Old habits die out of the iPod first and the brain second.

(A little disclaimer here might be prudent. Since I danced so much in high school, I was an eager consumer of dance music and, yes, even Sisqo's album back in the day. Still, "The Thong Song" will not be on treadmill rotation. Ever.)

But before I look like I'm lying, y'all better recognize that Justin Timberlake's "My Love," and Prince's "I Feel for You" most definitely make the cut. (They're like crack.)

Do not lose faith, dear reader, I will be righting the cosmic balance by driving home with Patty Griffin.

earning your words...

Over lunch today I dove deeper into Hannah Whitall Smith’s The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life. (This book keeps affecting me and I think several of you might be getting it for Christmas.)

I was all excited to share a few of the more beautiful points with all of you, so I looked up a bit of Smith’s history. A quick Google quickly disappointed me. At the top of her references was this entry from The PFO group.

It seemed that they had a few choice things to say about how she REALLY was as a person. Shocker. Because she was “broken” we should take in her thoughts carefully.

First off, we’re all broken. No one’s perfect, but that’s not even my beef. Why would we (especially the church) equate the level of brokenness of a writer with their successes? I mean, they could say the text was improbable (they do), not scriptural (debatable based on your interpretation) even that it is poorly constructed, but to attack her character as broken?

They use a quote from a biography to condemn her: “The truth is that this writer of the best-selling Christian classic The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life had some agonizing experiences with members of her family and went through periods of great discouragement, doubt and even despair” (pg. xiv).

When did perfection become a quality that must be present in order for a Christian author to be worthy enough to write?

This organization’s document states that she doubted. That her marriage was on the rocks. That she went a little far into sexual self-denial. Do any of these things make her opinions any less valid?

Knowing those details of her life makes her book no less true. Consider this from her chapter on "Difficulties Concerning Failures:" “Moreover, we must forget our sin as soon as it is thus confessed and forgiven. We must not dwell on it, and examine it, and indulge in a luxury of distress and remorse.”

I find that truth to be revolutionary. I find it to be scriptural too (Let it be known to you therefore, brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed from everything – Acts 13:38). It’s not untrue because she needed to hear those words too.

This seems like an odd thing to pick at, but it parallels what I’ve been doing today.

*******

I’ve wiled away this Monday editing a document about our spring opera, The Barber of Seville. The original play was written by Beaumarchais, an arrogant narcissist who based the character of Figaro upon himself. The opera was composed by Gioachino Rossini, a man who produced much fruit in his youth, but largely disappeared into adult obscurity, living in an adulterous marriage and eventually dying of a venereal disease. Eww.

What would it be like if we criticized this work using the above standard where brokenness trumps quality? Barber is considered to be one of the most brilliant pieces of comedic opera ever composed. Is it any less amazing because of the messiness of its creators?

Ok, maybe it’s a little too early in the week for an opera reference. How about popular literature?

Look at Jack Kerouac - the man who was the inspiration and muse for brilliant songwriters (Jim Morrison), poets (Bob Dylan) and an entire generation of men and women seeking to live with a purpose.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!” - Kerouac

He died an alcoholic, routinely used drugs, and as I think the above proves, said true, true things. Does it seem to not matter that he said something as beautiful as this? Couldn’t a Christian have uttered that same phrase – “The only people for me are those…mad to be saved?”

I guess what I’m getting in this Monday afternoon diatribe is that I think this collective brokenness and life experience only makes these creators that much more believable.

*******

So, returning to Smith and our lunchtime together, I know that she's teaching me a lot. That article doesn't change the way I feel about this book. It's pretty cool to me that I can identify with something a Quaker woman wrote 150 years ago. I like the thought that she’s not completely able to live out all her words. That she needed to read what she composed almost as much as she needed to write it.

The brokenness is what makes it authentic and gives her heart. It is what helps me to see a kindred spirit. Because I’m surely not perfect either.

Friday quickness

It's Jesus-tastic!

Download this great bible search tool. Go to the Starter Kit Download and in about 15 seconds you're in like Flynn if you gots that mad crazy broadband all the kids be talkin' bout. (Sorry...computers make me get all hood and stuff.)

I always find myself remembering bits of verses..."where is that section where Jesus mentioned a stone, asking and receiving and something about a parent?" (Answer: Matthew 7:7-11) Usually I just call Cass, but now I won't have to! This search is MUCH better than Bible Gateway, too.

The Truth is Somewhere in the Middle

This BBC column about the tragedy in Darfur, Sudan is lengthy, but entirely worth the read to see both sides. Two men square off on the idea of international involvement in the region. It’s (unfortunately) somewhat stereotypical – the Westerner pushes decisive troops now, and an economic rebuilding role lead by the Africans in the aftermath, while the African (Egyptian, actually) seeks to uphold national sovereignty, perhaps at the cost of civilians.

Upon reading this, unfortunately it’s easy to see that our proactive responses in Iraq & Afghanistan are gravely shaping the role the other countries want us to have in their world.

New Music Recs

John Legend - Once Again
Reminiscent of old Marvin Gaye-style R&B crooners. The backup singers are phenomenal, and I'm liking it more and more with each listen. It's the type of stuff your parents would dance to. Makes you want to be an adult. I'm sure it'll be one of '06's best.
Must listen to: Heaven, P.D.A (We Just Don't Care) and Slow Dance

Beck - The Information
So this album is getting a lot of hype about how it's NOT Guero. I'm not sure if that's bad or not. I think it's better - not quite as loud and obvious as his last release and it makes me want to visit Vegas and drive around in an old Cadillac convertible (red, of course). But most notably, it's been my running soundtrack for each of my outdoor runs.
Must listen to: Elevator Music, Think I'm in Love, New Round

But, enough about me...what's up with you kiddos? The comments section has been strangely silent as of late and I'm sure it's because you're living international, jet-setting, playboy rockstar lives lately...what's new?

What makes me tick

Me encanta:
Whole Foods
Opera
John Legend – Once Again
Remembering Africa
Painting my toenails
How strong I feel after a run
Colossians, Psalms, Proverbs
The Office
Living in stillness
Going to movies...by myself
Dark beer
Warm, comfy blankets
Tootsie Rolls
Yummy smelling bath products
Little kids smiling
Reading the newspaper
Bobby pins
Voting
Going for a drive
Writing in a journal with black sharpie
Turning the TV off
Seeing things come to fruition
Wasting time with someone
Making tea on the stove in a kettle
Walking through a park
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Living in covenant with my friends
Reveling in the mysteries of life
Spending a day with a soundtrack - isolated by the music, yet engaged
Laughing…often
Revisiting memories in my mind
Getting or giving flowers
Grocery shopping
Making someone feel loved

No me encanta:
Olives
Political TV ads
Waiting for the phone to ring
Name-droppers
Rude customer service people
Scenesters
Leggings
The smell of graham crackers
Cough syrup
Judgmental people
Arrogance
Graphic/offensive t-shirts about women’s anatomy
Airport security
Watching TV news
Punk rock
Ramen noodles
People who use guilt to get their way
Elitism
A man I’ve recently met telling me that my viewpoint is “cute” or “utterly wrong”
Blanket condemnation of an entire group of people
Biblical literalists
Selfishness
Vodka
My inability to keep gloves, hats and scarves
Literature I’m “supposed to like” (Catch 22, Beowulf…I’m talking to you)
Seinfeld

Today's soundtrack: The Greatest of Ease - The OneAM radio - A Cloud's Fear of Kites

That Sunday type of feeling

Homers Coffeehouse is one of those safe places for Christians to be. The staff is always especially nice. People are scattered about with bibles splayed open on the tables. Placed subtly in front of the register is a verse a-day calendar. Other than that, you really wouldn’t know that it’s a “Christian place.” The décor is unassuming and looks like most any other coffee dive (which is to say that it doesn’t have pictures of Jesus everywhere and it’s not attached to a bookstore). And most surprisingly, the coffee is actually pretty damn good – most of it fair trade.

I took a second to look around while I grabbed my coffee this morning. Maybe it was the fall weather seeping in to the room, but people looked content and comfy. They seemed ready to settle in and escape the chill outside.

I sighed. There’s a certain allure to places that are safe havens.

The world is a complicated and scary place. Even if you have a strong support system and relatively trouble-free life, you’ll still freak out about the outside world: The war(s). Kids shooting each other in school. Murder rates in mid-sized cities are skyrocketing. Internally, there’s all the stuff about you: There’s still this thorn in my flesh. How will I pay for new brakes? Does he like me?

It’s pretty obvious that we need to be comforted. We need an adult-sized blankie to carry around. I think that’s why most people visit a church in the first place. After they find peace there, it seems like the only safe haven in an otherwise crazy world. I mean, while you’re there, you’re not EXACTLY going to commit most sin, right? Someone (hopefully) won’t steal your wallet or entice you to cheat.

Once we start to know Jesus a little more, we need to expand the safety net a little. We can’t just subsist on that Sunday morning feeling. Sure, the singing and waving and praying will give you a little force field, and if you’re lucky, on pure “goodness” you could squeeze through Monday without feeling defeated.

But then, Tuesday comes.

It’s always Tuesday, isn’t it? You’re still sort of high from chilling with God in His house a few days ago. Then something happens. Maybe its minute (you’re running late to a meeting), maybe catastrophic (you’re running late to a meeting that will get you fired), but it just GETS YOU.

So, we seek to recreate the Sunday morning feeling. We duck into the bathroom to pray during a hectic work week. We visit the Relevant Web site. We blog. We look for a break in the clouds.

We try to go someplace safe.

******

When I first became a Christian, my brain was mushy. What was truth? Who could explain or interpret it right? How could I decide what was up and down? I kept being told I was just a “baby Christian,” anyway.

I remember that during that time, it felt good to read Max Lucado. He was easy to get. Reading a book of his was like eating a big chocolate chip cookie with a glass of warm milk. It wasn’t anesthetized, but it was warm and fuzzy Christianity. It was my safe place. I could take that Jesus. He seemed pretty compassionate.

Now, I like to read and listen to people that challenge my view points. People like my pastor, Rob Bell, NT Wright, Wendell Berry, Erwin McManus. People that don’t think Jesus is just a hug, but a revolution. But I’m ready for all that. I need a little tough love, some new vision, a kick in the ass.

Still, if I had a rough day, they might not be the way to go. I might need a cookie and a safe coffee shop and the realization that other believers are sitting around me. I might need to crack the spine of a Lucado book, letting it take away some of the hurt, making it easy to see Jesus amidst the clutter.

I might need a coffee shop like Homers that’s filled with niceness and other believers. I could need a place to start my day off, safely.

Today's Soundtrack: Refuge (When it's Cold Outside) - John Legend - Get Lifted

Seeing Green

I decided to give myself a little writing assignment today: try to see the ways God is present in my co-workers. It was a little challenging, and I’m not sure if that says more about how I perceive them or how they really are. Hurm.

The nurse: will always ask about my weekend and is the first to ask how someone is feeling if they were out sick.

The bodyguard: is quick to protect my workload and defend my honor.

The encourager: believes that I can do great things and wants to see my job expand.

The empathizer: shares my beliefs and has let me in on their world, secrets and brokenness.

The confident one: talks unabashedly about the Lord and has a heart of gold.

The mommy: trusts me enough to let me in on advice and scenarios with family and consoles me when I need it.

The wordsmith: is genius with ideas and always will help when I ask.

The mouthpiece: luh-oves what we do and is an evangelist for the arts. I learn so much from just listening.

The joyous one: laughs often and works hard.

The mystery: is hard to categorize and there’s a distinct beauty in that.

The housekeeper: straightens things up and offers coffee or treats to all.

The mirror: “life imitates art” in their operatic existence. It’s fun to watch.

The hedonist: loves things passionately and digs down into the best parts of them.

I want to look for the qualities of Christ in people more. It's a time-intensive discipline since it requires such a perspective shift. I'm going to have to practice a lot. It's easier to see the frustrating or work-related things since they're just bobbing on the surface. But in Christ, I know I'm being challenged to take time. To dig. To make a little more effort.

I'm doing this with my friends and family. Trying to see Christ in them, these people I already love (and even like most of the time). But I spend more time in this building than I do anywhere else - surrounded by these people, a few of whom I like and most that I don't know how to love.

So, just taking a little bit of time to do this was healing. It helped me look through a new, yellow lens at this blue world, blurring the details and content. I think green suits it.

It’s amazing what we really do in a week.

I -

Went through 4 states.
Met friends for coffee 3 times.
Had dinner with 16 family members.
Saw the Huskers come HEARTBREAKINGLY close to beating Texas.
Gave myself grace.
Fought and made up with my brother 3 times.
Made a new little friend.
Knew what was good for me and did it.
Fell in love with Wendell Berry, Joni Mitchell and red wine…again.
Weight trained 3 times.
Sat on a patio in 75 degree weather.
Welcomed in the first snow of the year the next day.
Stayed in on a Friday night.
Finished a gigantic project at work.
Created a piece of art that tried something new.
Watched more sporting events/coverage than I have all year.
Gave up on waiting.
Chose to believe that Jesus Saves Me Now.
Finished my last art class with the kids.
Ran 6 miles.
Thought every day about cleaning my apartment and decided against it.

Listening to: Last Chance Lost - Joni Mitchell - Turbulent Indigo

Agape

In contrast to my (just slight) vehemence in today’s early post, I thought it’d be fitting to show the love. It’s all about balance.

********************
Love.

Just look at the word.

Love.

Doesn’t it conjure up all sorts of feelings ranging from contentment and peace to anxiety and judgment? I mean, if you’re NOT in love, at the mere mention of it you probably notice the lack of it in your life. Then again, if you ARE in love, then the word is probably interchangeable with your sweetie’s name. You know…”I Heart Mr. Imaginary Pants” and whatnot.

It seems that in our 30-second newsbyte world, love only means being in love. To truly define love (platonic, romantic or charitable) would take patient study and copious time. Since our consumer culture has a small threshold for this scholastic endeavor, we are largely ignorant to how gigantic the concept is. We make it into one thing (emotion), but ignore the multitude. According to scripture in Christ, it is vast - great, high, deep, and wide.

In Greek alone, there are more than a few types of love: agape, eros, philia and storge.

While each of these have their own unique application and could warrant additional examination, I’m intrigued by agape and want to explore it.

Agape seems to be the grounding, central characteristic of love. It is commonly identified as being Biblical (which could suggest that the authors saw it as a beautiful concept). Other than that, in The Odyssey (one of the few ancient texts where it’s used) it seems to suggest something that creates contentment. Still most frequently, it is identified as the type of love that Christ had for us – brotherly, based in generosity and care.

(It also intrigues me that the word agape looks like a gape - the reaction you'd have if you saw generous acts of love in practice.)

When I reflect on agape, it seems that our modern terminology (the flat, difficult to define love) would do well to explore things visually. In our context love is cotton-candy when we’re ravenous. Agape is a thick, rich stew - something that sticks to our bones. Love makes things hazy and delirious. Agape gives focus.

Still, beyond comparison, we are gifted with a concrete example of what agape looks like - in Jesus’ nature and practice. His parables are testament to love in action (essentially what agape is designed to be) and show us how to sow this generous love.

There is an absolutely unlimited opportunity to practice, as agape exists independent of a relationship (or marriage). We don’t need to be coupled to share it. It exists in the simpleness of kind gestures and words. It exists when we stop to ask about a co-worker’s life and really listen to them. It exists when we try to love people as they are, not as we’d like them to be. It exists when we pray for each other. It exists when we waste time with a friend. It exists when we share our blessings. It exists when we share our burdens.

As a cuddler, an encourager, a present and caring friend and a daughter of God, I like to think that I’m good at this type of loving. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I really suck at it.

With my close friends, I know I’m getting it right. We openly cry about and dig into the past. We affirm and love each other in the present. We promise to be present in the future. We practice agape.

Now that your brain is slightly more engaged, look at the word again.

Love.

Doesn’t it look different? Bigger somehow?

Like something you could do in your world…as it is right now?

Weekend seething material

"There is no native criminal class except Congress." Mark Twain

If you want to get yourself REAL riled up before midterm elections, go ahead and read this.

And, like a good little citizen, see what both sides are saying.

Please, please, please get out and vote on November 7. No matter what your political leaning is, there have GOT to be honest politicians out there who are willing to hug it out.

L'Artiste

On display...
















...Cap*stone
















...pur*ify

and ...merge

Thanks to photographer extraordinare Jeter and all the friends that came to support me on Friday. I had the best night and felt so incredibly loved and appreciated for who I am.

It was a good night to be me.

glimmers of hope

Recent news would have you believe that the world is falling apart. War, injustice, torture and malevolence abound.

Where exactly do we go to find God?

In the smallness of humanity.

The tiniest gestures seem to reveal God's presence in a tightly compacted, catch your breath sort of way. Today has been littered with moments that give me hope in the inherent goodness of God, both on His own and through His people.

...The man in front of me, stopped at an intersection during a green light, pausing to hand a pack of Skittles out his window to a homeless man.

...My Dad's warm voice, answering my lunchtime phone call. Then his voice, sugary, as he said "I love you."

...The crew at my local coffee shop, encouraging me to upgrade to something other than the free coffee my repeat business had earned. Their kindness (and one heck of a latte) were heavenly.

...10 people from my church, gathered together over lunch to pray. The group's selfless, heartfelt prayers for others made me proud to be a part of my church.

...My friend, pausing yesterday to ask a homeless man for his name during her run.

...A co-worker asking genuinely how I'm doing.

...The fire-red tree near my church that shed exactly half its leaves. The untouched wreckage on the lawn looked so sacred.

...My friend, who routinely lets me know via email how appreciated my friendship is.

...The gleam I see in people's eyes when they talk about Africa.

...A delivered prayer for wisdom to see loneliness in those around me.

...My friend, holding my hand through the grayness of today.

...these song lyrics - "how great, how high, how deep, how wide, is your love."

Indeed.

2 takes on peace

******
Last night I felt pretty crummy. My stomach was upset, I had a headache, and I was generally ready to crawl into a cave.

After musing a bit, I realized that I deal horribly with stillness. I don’t turn it into the rewarding experience God ordains it to be. Instead, I get bored. My mind clicks through the multitude of things I should be doing…laundry, cleaning, creating, call someone…my brain is always prepared to ruin the beauty of stillness with some good, old-fashioned Catholic guilt.

Now, my first instinct was to pass the time by uncorking a bottle of wine and painting out my next vision. (Obviously this was not a good idea as my stomach was churning.) My second instinct was to pull out a meaty book of theology and start sifting through all the junk in my life and worldview. (The fact that I was really, really tired wouldn’t allow me to entertain that idea either.) Out of bright ideas at 8 p.m., I followed the tips of stress experts everywhere: light a few candles, turn the lights off, and be still.

Usually when I shut my eyes and center myself, I immediately rush into prayer. Generally I pray about mememememememe, and if I’m having a particularly benevolent day, I’ll focus on a few other people on the back end. (I’m working on this, by the way, as I can’t help but realize how small it makes my life when I keep focusing on myself so damn much.)

But instead of praying, I tried to meditate. Before I knew God very well, I toyed around with meditative practices without ever getting very good at it. In later years, I didn’t try it out again, because the idea sounded “too dangerous” (read: new-agey). Most churches toll the benefits of prayer, largely ignoring meditation (with a Christ-centered heart) all too often, yet I’m convinced that by inviting in the Holy Spirit, we can reap the benefit of being present in his stillness, without the active dialogue of a prayer.

So, honeysuckle and cucumber candles blazing, I stretched out on my comfy little loveseat. All cozied up under my favorite maroon blanket, The Album Leaf mellowing in the background, I started in. Each time I breathed in and out, I thought about how He knit this body together. Each inhale and exhale were a testament to God’s very name, His very essence inside my being. The stillness was remarkable. Even in my exhaustion, I wasn’t ready to fall asleep in the middle of it.

The peace stretched out before and around me, enveloping me like I was swimming alone in the middle of a perfect lake. There was no one but me and my God in that moment.

After learning how to breathe and sorting through a few items I needed to let go of, I crawled in to bed at 9 p.m. and slept more soundly than I have in a long, long time.

******

This afternoon, I’m hacking out our next performance program for Hamlet. My mind is as full of busy stuff as it was before I rested last night. I’ve tried the breathing tricks. They’re sort of working, but not quite as effectively as in my living room. My mind can't take advantage of stillness here, can it?

Definitely not. The mind charges on. My layout is jumping around on me. I’ve got to run this CD to the post office before 5. I have a press release and radio spot to write tomorrow. Where should I go running after work? What was the donor's name I was supposed to include?

Through some well-timed intervention, God reminded me of the beautiful stillness we shared last night in a very stealthy way…through a little Stevie Wonder.

Per usual, the tunes are spinning today. I’d sought out some music to pep me back up into a productive frenzy and this magic message came salsa-stepping through my speakers. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

The simplicity of the moment was quieting. It gave me peace. Just let it go. These things aren't that big of a deal.

I smiled to myself. God himself sang these words to me last night. Ok, maybe he spelled them out and relaxed them away, but he knew I needed something different now.

******
2 takes.

Last night I needed some restful peace. I needed to be loved and let go of the doubts that clouded my thinking.

This afternoon, I needed some energizing peace. I needed to know that I don’t need to be a worrywart…even if my soul heads that way by default.

So, I won’t be worrying about anything - just happily typing along until this program is done, while God is standing in the corner checking it out.

On the horizon

A few weeks ago, I found this newfound desire to learn how to run. The plan was going well, and I was up to 21 minutes of consecutive running. (It's all about the small victories, y'all. )

However, with my opera craziness, I've hit the gym a grand total of twice in the last two weeks. Boo. Still, the program was going well, so a friendly little kick in the butt this weekend got me about new challenges. It looks like I'm going to get the chance to step it up, courtesy of my marathoning lady friends. At the beginning of December, Jeter and I are going to visit Miss E Sue Young, where they will put on their big kid pants and rock the half marathon out, and I will tackle my very first 5K!

My goal is simple: I want to run or jog the whole thing. It's not about time, just building up these fragile little lungs. I bought new shoes yesterday to celebrate (and keep my lower back and ankles from hurting) and if all goes well, this will be the first of many forays into the world of the running.

Cross your fingers, say a prayer. Training begins tonight with a 1.5 mile run outside.

Tonight's running soundtrack: Beck - The Information

the method behind the madness

For those out of towners who might be interested (I'm talking to you, pops), here's my artists statement that accompanies my 3 paintings. Again, anyone who can make it: Tonight. 6:30-9:30. Jacobs Well. 42nd & Gennessee. Be there. There'll be food. And sangria. At a church. 'fo real? Completely.

*******************************

I began painting to find healing amidst the busyness of the world and the flurry of my own thoughts. Using artifacts from my past (photographs, poems I’ve written, words and scripture that I love), I can preserve and confront my history in a way that is restoring to my spirit.

Selecting items to collage is something I try to do quickly, so I don’t over think how certain elements might be paired together. As I assemble the pieces, I pay special attention to space and overlapping, attempting to arrange things in a way that explains their connection. The paint is ultimately what ties them together, and I always begin with one or two base colors – usually blue, green or purple. I find them calming in the complexity of my pieces, and they lend themselves well to blending and contrast.

I treat my painting as a type of therapy. My work particularly scrutinizes the past; poking and prodding, trying to create visually what a memory might look like. The lines of color over the images are almost reminiscent of streaks of water or dirt on a windowpane. I’d like the viewer to approach the work as if they were looking through a window into many static moments from the past, some highly visible, some hidden. In these paintings, the collective moments are allowed to co-mingle and make sense of each other in a new environment, free of time and space.

I listened to this sermon series while in Kenya this summer. At the time, I was working with orphaned children and experiencing a completely different reality. Attempting to process what I saw was painful and challenging, yet the “elemental” nature of life was so apparent in Africa. In that place I witnessed the blazing fire of poverty, the fertile, earthy soil of community and witnessed how two lives and worlds could intersect, their breath becoming the same in God’s sight. Working on these specific pieces helped me find peace while processing and categorizing what I saw.

-ally moore

2 stellar playists

1. Music to Strum To

Isabel – Juana Molina – Tres Cosas
Suddenly Everything Has Changed – The Postal Service
The Good that Won’t Come Out – Rilo Kiley – The Execution of All Things
Love is an Arrow – Aberfeldy – Young Forever
Crazy (Gnarls Barkley cover) – Ray Lamontagne
Arms of a Woman – Amos Lee – Live from KEXP
Valentine, NE – Rachel Ries – For You Only
*I actually have no idea who this next song is by, but it sounded like REM and even though it's not I love it. It’s a mystery.
Studying Stones – Ani DiFranco – Knuckle Down
Hymn – Andy Stochansky – Five Star Motel
I’m Ready – Tracy Chapman – New Beginning
Here I Dreamt I was an Architect – The Decemberists – Castaways and Cutouts
Ballad of Cable Hogue – Calexico – Baddle of Cable Hogue CDS
Protection – Massive Attack (feat. Tracy Throrn – Everything but the Girl) – Protection
Hamburg Song – Keane – Under the Iron Sea
Miniature Disasters (acoustic) - KT Tunstall

This collection is filled with really beautiful acoustic and mellow stuff. I mostly selected these pieces for their lyrics, but all are musically solid too. I almost called it 8:39, in homage to a previous playlist (titled 8:38) I made that was perfect for Sunday mornings, reading the paper and drinking coffee.

Of note on this compilation:
-The simple beauty in the Rilo Kiley track (Jenny Lewis is great). Solid lyrics and intriguing thoughts.
-Rachel Ries' amazing voice. I think she's secretly a siren.
-Andy Stochansky cobbles together what seems to be two completely different songs, but it works.
-Massive Attack is infinitely better with Tracy Thorn on lead vocals. It's less trip-hop than their other stuff.


2. Music to Sing With

What is and What Should Never Be – Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin II
Bring Me Some Water – Melissa Etheridge – Melissa Etheridge
Think Long – Mates of State – Bring it Back
Runnin’ Out of Fools – Neko Case – Blacklisted
Honky Tonk Women – Rolling Stones – Hot Rocks, (1964-1971)
Burning – The Whitest Boy Alive – Dreams
Blue Sky – The Allman Brothers Band – Eat a Peach
Neighborhood #2 (Laika) – The Arcade Fire – Funeral
Lakes of Ponchartain – The Be Good Tanyas – Blue Horse
For The Price of a Cup of Tea – Belle and Sebastian – Just Pretend Summer Isn’t Ending
Such Great Heights (Postal Service cover) – Ben Folds
Banquet – Bloc Party – Silent Alarm
Noticed – MuteMath – MuteMath
Slow Hands – Interpol – Antics
This Fire – Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand

This playlist is ideal for days that are clouded by frustration. Chock-full of familiar rock favorites and good "singing from your belly" type tunes. It could also be called It Feels Good To Be Me Today.

Of note on this compilation:
- This Melissa Etheridge song made me realize how fantastic she is. She just HOWLS at the end.
- Neko gives it to her jilted ex-lover and rocks out in this song. Women across the world cheer.
- Burning. Hands down one of my favorite songs. I can listen to it on repeat for hours because he doesn't mess up the beautiful instrumental part at the end by feeling the need to come back and sing one last chorus.
- In the MuteMath track, I love that you can't tell if he's talking about a fantastic woman or God.
- The last two are worth turning your stereo way up...or strutting about the living room. (But I wouldn't know anything about that.)

africa in the news

It's been a big week for the beautiful continent. Here are a few of the more intriguing items:

The new movie Catch a Fire details the story of a South African man fighting the government in the era of apartheid. I'm excited to see this.

NPR's Morning Edition is running a series on Africa's lagging development, focusing on major factors that have restricted (specifically Sub-Saharan Africa) from catching up with other developing countries. Today they focused on the problems of governmental corruption (Zimbabwe is a prime example).

ONE and Bono are working on some cool projects: This Sunday is ONE's Day of Action and Bono introduced a new concept (RED) this last week. Proceeds from their products will go to combat AIDS in Africa. In my understanding ONE is action and politically based while (RED) is commerce geared. I love that they're recognizing the power of providing employment.

Potential school cutbacks and shortfalls in Kenya. For a country that prides itself on it's HIGH education and literacy rates, this is not good.

Update: Wow. Check this out. (Thanks Sarah!) It's a beautiful excerpt of a CNN piece from last month on what they're doing in rural Massai lands in Kenya to combat AIDS and help get healthcare where it's needed. Sometimes simpler IS better.

puzzled 'til my puzzler was sore

Today, a great many busy little thoughts have fluttered about my brain like caged butterflies.

You see, after some much-needed friend time this weekend, I have appropriately broken down the vast mysteries of the cosmos and spent quite a bit of time reading. While this practice is cathartic, even healing, I realized lately I’ve been feeling a lot like the Grinch.

Yes. That Grinch. Hear me out, but understand that while I am (a) not green (although I AM all about recycling) and (b) pretty sure that Christmas is about a whole lot more than presents, I am (c) just as puzzled as Dr. Seuss’ famously grinchy fiend.

Sometimes, even I can’t take the level of analysis I’m capable of. My puzzler was sore.

I think I’ve been working up to this state of soreness. I’ve been craving simplicity in the last few months. Mostly just seeking quiet spaces and dreaming of how different things could be: a home in the middle of nowhere; one type of bread to choose from at the store; only the fewest of friends to concern myself with.

I think this urging is largely reactionary. Most likely it’s a rebelling of the excesses of my life and a longing for the way I was made in God…but I’m really trying to not rip it apart too much.

See, that would be contributing to the soreness, wouldn't it?

There isn’t a good way to wrap my arms around all that I’ve seen. Whether Kenya or my past or the unknown future, I’ll never achieve this "total enlightenment" that I seem to crave. I think as Christians, so intune with God through prayer and scripture, we're easily led to the idea that we can achieve total consciousness. I know I can be easily led that way, chasing consciousness until my body is sore, my mind weary and my joy robbed.

So sometimes, the best way to show God that I care to understand is to just. slow. down. for. a. while. Right?

Isn't it infinitely more pleasing to God to just be content already? To just be in love with the day in front of you? To turn the puzzler down a notch or two…not to be numb, but to understand that there are things that we just can’t know. Maybe it is.

As I wrapped these thoughts up, I ran across this on today’s Sacred Space and as usual, they nailed it:

“We cannot understand or imagine God, but we can open ourselves to God in silence and wait for his gift.”

Perhaps they should have added, “for this will lead to a properly healthy puzzler.”

Tomorrow I might....

Sleep in.
Make eggs and coffee.
Journal and listen to my newest tunes.
Throw in some laundry.
Go for a run.
Take a decadently long shower.
Treat myself to sushi.
Go for a drive.
Head to the library or a bookstore for a few hours.
Visit Home Depot to buy framing/hanging supplies.
Make dinner and drink wine.
Finalize my artwork.
Watch Off the Map to get inspired for my next project.

Raising the Bar

Seriously. How badass is this picture. Even better - this dude's album - Till the Sun Turns Black. One of my 2006 favorites.

Discipleship

As of late, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a disciple. Strangely (or serendipitously), last night at church my pastor parked on this topic for awhile.

What got me all fired up was a recent statement that Tim outlined that he said Dallas Willard had made. He said something like this: the problem in America is that churches are filled with Christians, but not with disciples.

At that moment, I started drinking from the fire hose. Those words echoed the longing I’ve been feeling in my heart. In the ramp-up to Kenya and in the ensuing assessment and compartmentalization of what I saw, I've been tracking through some sort of “higher spirituality” with God. The relationship has been markedly more intense and self-scrutinizing. It has started to mirror what I believe the life of a disciple looks like.

For many years I was just a Christian - and not even a decent one at that. I was just someone who got “saved” when I was 16 then promptly bought into the self-fulfilling prophesy of the Evangelical church. It wasn't entirely my fault, but it wasn’t entirely the churches either. It felt good to be was “right,” “guaranteed” and “redeemed.” The result left me with a spirtituality that was entirely about eliminating bad habits and cultivating new and improved ones (for only $29.95 and a lot of "turning from sin").

Until recently, I’d treated my sanctification as something akin to a get out of jail free card. Christ expected me to do different things, not be them. For instance, take the common Christian instruction: drinking = bad. But do you really know why? Do we really know that wrestling with God until you understand why being drunk all the time isn’t a healthy thing because it gets in the way of being transformed? Doesn't it seem so much easier to take and be transformed if we study it, rather than regurgitate or will it?

I guess what I’m understanding now (and trying to get to here) is that I’d rather be a disciple of Christ’s than of myself, my will or my organized religion.

A disciple is literally defined as “one who embraces and assists in spreading the teachings of another.” After reading that, I think that the definition of a disciple, especially with regards to Christ, is in need of expanding.

What does a life look like that has truly embraced something? Does it attack, despise and assert its supremacy to those that don’t understand the object of its affection? Of course not. In most instances, the object or person embraced becomes a part of the person who feels affection towards it. Something new and life-giving pours out. The person embracing something takes on a part of the character of the thing it embraces.

So, if I embrace the practice of yoga, I’d study it. I’d pick up books. I’d study with a master. I’d take on the life of its practice and talk with others about it. If I got good enough, it would becomes something so natural to me, it’d be like breathing.

Ok, longwinded Ally, how is this different than the single biggest practice of a Christian’s life – the embrace of our Lord?

It's not inherently different, it's just that we struggle with how to embrace the practice of discipleship because there’s no way that we can be ever become an expert. We cannot become the very thing that we admire and embrace. At least we cannot with our own will. With the spirit’s intercession and God’s divine will and strength, we can become more Christ-like, but we can never become Christ. It’s simply not possible, nor is it our purpose.

Once we realize that we cannot become God, I think it makes it a lot easier to be his disciples. There is grace and freedom in that truth. There is an understanding that all I can do is try. All I can do is run into the marvelousness of Him; try to model His behavior; pray that it becomes as natural to me as breathing. This way, it is something that I have “become” not something I've “done.”

So, as I opined with my good friend Julius last night, how do we go about being disciples?

I’m sure that this answer is as different for each person as our hair color or personality. I believe that the way I can best be a disciple and embrace Christ is to allow my natural instincts to come through. To me, it’s not about becoming something entirely different. It starts with cultivating the good things that he has already laid out and cultivated in our own personality's and desires.

For me it looks like this:

I can love.
I can be intentional with my actions.
I can let him live THROUGH me, not just IN me.
I can run with the impulses that I have that are good and right and pleasing to God.
I can stop waiting for tomorrow to help someone.
I can apologize today.
I can just do IT – whatever IT is that’s in my heart.

I guess what I mean is that I think the best way to be a disciple is to just be a disciple. Go ahead. Read it again.

It’s like the running analogy I used a few weeks ago, only flipped. How do you become a runner? Just run. How to do you become a disciple? You follow the master. You learn about the things that you embrace as you go along. You build up strength and get better at it. You pick up that book and you talk to Him and you talk to others about Him.

We can do nothing to speed up this process, but I just believe that God faithfully meets us in the middle and picks up the part we can’t tackle. So, that’s what I’m trying to do now. I know I’ve been doing it for awhile, but the recognition is lovely and life-giving and simple and freeing.

It is this: I, Allyson Marie Moore, am a disciple of Christ.

Beautiful.