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.
December 3, 2009 Leave a comment
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”
November 25, 2009 Leave a comment
Be thankful that I was not A&E editor last year.
I say that for many reasons, I suppose. I think Jocelyn did an amazing job with the section, and I’m proud to be her successor. Not to mention that last year at this time I hardly knew what AP style was – the journalist’s version of MLA or APA – despite my year on staff at my high school newspaper.
But last year the A&E section, had I been the editor, would have been filled with a lack of variety and integrity. Because last year, folks, I was a music snob.
I would have said that with pride because the bands I’ve been listening to for years are the same ones loved by professional music enthusiasts. Bands like Franz Ferdinand, Kings of Leon and Manchester Orchestra became my most played on iTunes. I learned that rap music can be cool and ironic like Gnarls Barkley and Jaydiohead. And most importantly, I shunned all “Christian” music, except for Jars of Clay.
Back in May, my friend Adam and I would sit in this little locally-owned coffeehouse in Fort Wayne, sipping tea and talking about what real music is. We’d rattle off names of musicians no one else knows about (Great Lake Swimmers, M83, Eef Barzelay). And Adam would tell me about the time he played secular music through the church loudspeakers when he ran the soundboard, and I would say something snotty about the lack of musical variety my own church offers (Chris Tomlin or Matt Redman, take your pick).
Last summer I remember flipping through my friend Jacque’s CD collection during our road trip, seeing only Switchfoot and Sanctus Real, wondering how I was going to survive the next 300 miles.
So, I never knew that the sin of pride could infiltrate my music like this.
Because that’s really what this is: a pride issue. I think that because I listen to cool music and you don’t, I am somehow better than you or more tasteful or more cultured.
It works the other way around too. This is the same reason why I get so offended when my roommate Lindsey makes fun of my music. It’s not that you’re dissing what flows through my ear buds; you’re dissing me for choosing to press play.
My friend Abby loves Coldplay. Whenever we drive together, she switches what I am currently playing (the Decemberists, fun., Andrew Bird) to Coldplay’s song “Lost.”
I hate that song. I hate that album. I hate how much everyone loves Coldplay so much.
“Then why do you have them on your iPod?” Abby has asked me more than once. And honestly, the answer is kind of pitiful: I have songs by Coldplay to make my musical tastes seem cooler. Because, apparently, Coldplay is the epitome of “good music.” (Really?)
You know that phrase, “Keeping up with the Jones’?” Some people like getting fancy electronics to show off to their friends. Some people dress in only brand names. I fill my iPod with catchy music – whether I like the songs or not, apparently.
I shouldn’t find my identity in the type of music I listen to, but I do. I know I’m not going to be shunned for liking or hating a certain band. I’m still friends with Matt who listens to Creed, so he can still be my friend when I blast Miley Cyrus.
Even writing this column has been a struggle for me. You can’t imagine how hard it was admitting I listen to Miley Cyrus. I’ve tried to make up for it by placing other cooler musicians in parentheses throughout this column. (Like this: M. Ward, Animal Collective, Kings of Convenience.)
I want to know what you think. I know taste in music is subjective, but do you find yourself acting like me, letting your favorite music define you? Do you do it with other forms of media?
And if so, what should we do? Humble ourselves and listen to lame music, or suck it up and try to not let music define us?
Continue the conversation online at my blog: www.broken-downpoetry.blogspot.com.
November 20, 2009 1 Comment
I’m finishing up Salinger’s last novella about the Glass family, “Seymour – an Introduction,” written in the point of view of Buddy Glass.
Seymour, whom Buddy writes about, is a poet; Buddy writes in prose. It’s brilliant, really, how they’re contrasted. Anyway, Buddy has a lot to say about prose … and since I am a fan of prose (as broken-down poetry), I thought I’d post some of my favorite quotes.
Thanks, Buddy.
“And while I think an economically happy prose writer can do many good things on the printed page – the best things, I’m frankly hoping – it’s also true, and infinitely more self-evident, I suspect, that he can’t be moderate or temperate or brief; he loses very nearly all his short paragraphs. …
Worse of all, I think, he’s no longer in a position to look after the reader’s most immediate want; namely, to see the author get the hell on with his story.” — “Seymour,” pp. 98-99
“It is, then, as if this clerical error were to revolt against the author, out of hatred for him, were to forbid him to correct it, and were to say, ‘No, I will not be erased, I will stand as a witness against thee, that thou art a very poor writer.'” — Soren Kierkegaard, epigraph to “Seymour”
Other well-written passages by Buddy Glass:
“Her voice sounded strangely levelled off, stripped of even the ghost of italics.” — “Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters,” p. 85
“I said I didn’t give a good God damn what Mrs. Fedder had to say on the subject of Seymour. Or, for that matter, what any professional dilettante or amateur bitch had to say. I said that from the time Seymour was ten years old, every summa-cum-laude Thinker and intellectual men’s-room attendant in the country had been having a go at him. …
I said that no one Goddamn person, of all the patronizing, fourth-rate critics and column writers, had ever seen him for what he really was. A poet, for God’s sake. And I mean a poet.” — “Raise High,” pp 59-60
with Love and Squalor,
Lauren
November 15, 2009 Leave a comment
Whenever I read a book, I always assume the writer and I would make good friends. F. Scott Fitzgerald and I would share a (nonalcoholic) cocktail, J.D. Salinger and I would probably ride a carousel together in a park – and Don Miller and I would, of course, get married.
But knowing my luck on things like this, I bet that most authors are jerks.
I’ve had the opportunity to meet a few published authors. My mom is a writer and she’s made friends with a lot of other writers in the romantic inspirational genre (yes, there is such a thing). I wouldn’t call her friends jerks, but they are definitely their own breed.
But author Jason Boyett is not a jerk or weird like my mom’s friends – at least not weird in a stop-eating-the-paste way. He’s a nice guy, and he definitely knows how to write.
Jason is the master of taking fact-loaded information, bringing it to our level, and explaining it with humor and irreverence. He even took four weighty issues like the Bible, the afterlife, the apocalypse and sainthood and made Pocket Guide books out of them. And you know what? I could tell you more about the patron saint of beekeeping than you’d ever want to know. (Thanks, Jason.) His blog, www.jasonboyett.blogspot.com, which helped inspire the theme of my blog, is hilarious and reading it is an integral part of my day.
I only say all that to build Jason’s credibility. Anyone could tell you that Jason’s a good writer, but not everyone knows that Jason’s a good guy too. And I don’t know about you, but I would really like to read a book by a guy I could drink a nonalcoholic beverage with.
But unfortunately, this isn’t always realistic.
A few months back I uncovered a bunch of dirt about a publication I loved, a company that boasted of a Christ-focus. It turns out calling yourself Christian doesn’t mean you maintain a level of integrity or view profit gain differently – it’s just a matter of appealing to a certain demographic. I am still a little bitter.
I’m not saying that you should only read books by Christian authors or listen to music by Christian bands. Because honestly, I have a healthy mix of Christian and secular entertainment. Rather, I’m trying to argue that bands who claim a faith shouldn’t act like jerks behind stage.
Maybe that’s too much to ask.
I recently had a phone conversation with a guy who used to work for a Christian magazine and a Christian record label. He told me how he met a lot of recognizable Christian figures who were doing pretty slimy things.
He met vain musicians and money-hungry businessmen. He refused to give me any names – but ooh James Dobson, I’m suspicious of you! Though he did assure me that Toby Mac is not the (insert derogatory noun here) that you’d think he’d be.
I’m not saying we should boycott all books, magazines, CDs and movies by superficial Christians – I’m not saying that at all. I just know that I don’t want to have the same fate as these guys. I want my actions to line up with my professed devotion.
We talk a lot about becoming world changers here at Indiana Wesleyan, but I wonder if there’s more to world changing than just building a Christian company or calling yourself a Christian doctor or a Christian writer or a Christian football coach.
I wonder if world changing has more to do with being a pleasant person to work with, to have patience with coworkers, to live as though you recognized God’s blessings.
November 14, 2009 1 Comment
I … am … blogging in the middle of a crowded hallway. That kind of sounds like a joke or the introduction to an anecdote – but it’s not. It’s just true.
I was talking to my friend Molly last night, hashing out everything that I’ve been thinking about for the past week or so. Nothing is organized. My dear thoughts are all over the place.
Breathe.
I keep forgetting to breathe.
Madelaine L’Engle in her book “Walking on Water” talks about creating cosmos from the chaos. I think I want that. But how?
I’ve been really good at compartmentalizing everything. I reserve thoughts about school to the afternoon hours, thoughts about boys to the night. But I can’t seem to do that anymore.
I want to detox.
I told Molly last night how I wish I could write poetry to get these feelings out, to express them in an appropriate way … but all my poetry comes out as prose.
This is my poetry.
The closest thing to it.
Words that don’t mean much.
It looks a lot like
Poetry,
but it’s not.
When Jesus was on a boat during a windstorm, he slept. His apostles poked him and woke him. Sleepy-eyed Jesus told the storms to stop and they do. Then I bet Jesus went back to sleep.
God, teach me how to rest during this storm!
I was reading an old Xanga blog post of mine which talked about this topic. Even in my naivety, I understood the benefits of storms – to go through them, not to avoid them. Not to organize them. But to let them change me.
Dear God, I hate this chaos.
But let it transform me.
Get out your measuring cups and we’ll play a new game
Come to the front of the class and we’ll measure your brain
We’ll give you a complex, and we’ll give it a name
November 12, 2009 3 Comments
This post is for those of you who I haven’t talked to in a while. I feel bad that you’re not up to date with my life.
1. I added a major. Despite what Dr. Huckins thinks, our journalism program lacks good writing courses … so I added a writing double major. It’s only 30 hours, so it’s not much extra work. Because of this I changed my minor from writing to media comm.
2. I am obsessed with Christmas. I always loved Christmas – don’t get me wrong – but usually I celebrate the holiday for only one month. Not this year. Lindsey and I have been playing Christmas music pretty much all semester. Our room is already decorated.
3. I lost weight. Thanks, Wii Fit!
4. I like a boy. And he acts like he likes me. He has a beard.
5. I stopped going to church – at school anyway. I get my fair share of preaching, worship and fellowship on campus, so what’s the point of attending church I don’t like anyway? I feel so rebellious; I’m not trying to be rebellious. I just like doing devotions at Starbucks more.
6. My mom had surgery on Thursday. BUT SHE’S OKAY! For those of you who knew this, thanks for praying!
7. The Sojourn’s going to 8 pages! Right now it’s 6 which means my section is only in the paper every other week. Now it’ll be in every issue. And designer-willing, in color as well.
8. I’ve been really busy, which is why you haven’t heard from me much. School + work + social life = BUSYNESS! But I love it. ;-)
9. I miss my sister so much! She’s in Italy right now, studying abroad. I’ve had the urge to text her so many times, she has no idea.
10. Anyone can read the work I’ve done on the Sojourn at www.iwusojourn.com. (Ha, shameless plug.)
with love and squalor,
Lauren Deidra
November 8, 2009 1 Comment
I finished Don Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” a few days ago; it made me want to marry him even more.
The book was very moody. It had the structure of “Blue Like Jazz” (more like a memoir than SFGKW or TPD), but had the tone of “Through Painted Deserts” – thought-provoking, contemplative. It made me moody too.
Don talks about Story, about how he didn’t find his story worthy of the big screen, and how he tries to change that. So Don rides a bike across America. He hikes in Peru. He starts a non-profit.
Don talks about living a better story, which made me consider my current story. I go to class. I drink a lot of coffee. I have interesting conversations … sometimes.
I know I’m in college and that limits my freedom to live a bigger story, but it doesn’t stop me either. Gosh, all this talk of being World Changers here at IWU has gotten to me. I really do want to change the world. I was made for greatness, as Pastor DeNeff would say. I’m not designed to sit on my hands, drag myself from class to class and settle for banality.
ezek.
November 4, 2009 Leave a comment
I wonder if this is our view of Christianity.
Some questions:
1. Does God punish us for our sins if we’re under Grace?
2. Does God ever take his protection from us?
3. Does physical unhealthiness reflect God’s wrath or our healthiness reflect his approval?
(Side note: This comic [via
JesusNeedsNewPR] is hilarious. Jesus spanking a little girl? I mean, those anti-corporal punishment guys are probably having a hay-day right now.)
But really, that’s beside the point.
Prof. Perry and I were talking about this yesterday, in regard to Dan Merchant’s “Lord, Save Us from Your Followers” screening Wednesday night. Christians have an easy time pointing the finger, telling you what’s wrong with you, warning you of consequences, but not showing any bit of love.
I got to sit down with Dan on Wednesday for a one-on-one chat about his book (and my Don Miller marriage plans). We got on the topic of homosexuality. I mentioned my
column from last week’s issue of the Sojourn and the conversation that arose at Starbucks a week or so it was published.
I let Lindsey read my column, to make sure it didn’t sound like a rant or that anything I said could be mistaken for heresy. As we discussed it between the two of us, the rest of our group overheard and started their own dialogue. Soon six of us were engaging in this debate (should this even be a debate?) about homosexuality and the church.
Lindsey and I came to the conclusion that, despite what the Bible says about homosexuality or any so-called “lifestyle” sin, Christians shouldn’t tell people what they’re doing wrong. We should just love them.
No strings attached.
No I-love-you-ifs.
Just … I love you. We’re all human. We are all depraved. We are all the image of God. We are, as I love to say, glorious ruins.
Dan and I talked about this for a while. We mulled over Jesus’ words, how he never, ever, ever, ever condemned a sinner. He stood up for them; he risked his life for them.
In John 8, when the Pharisees bring to Jesus a woman caught in idolatry, despite the law he stops the men from stoning her, dusts her off and tells her to go leave her life of sin. No “you’re a dirty whore, you deserve hell” or the less extreme – “I disapprove of your lifestyle choice.”
Dan also used the example of the thief on the cross. What good deeds did that man do to deserve paradise? Absolutely nothing.
So why in the world do we keep condemning people to hell?
Really, though. Why?
When we read the Gospels, and we call ourselves Christians (“little Christ”), then we flippantly blame the divorce rate on gay marriage or our addiction to pornography on the liberal media … there’s something disconnected. There’s something not right.
If we could spend a little more time on the first two commandments – love God, love others – maybe people would stop hating us Christians so much.
I believe in Grace. I believe that God forgets my sins before I commit them. (“Forgiveness precedes repentance.”) I believe that God cares more about people than he cares about their sins.
There’s a story in Brennan Manning’s “The Ragamuffin Gospel” that exemplifies this. A woman claimed that she was having visions of Jesus, so the archbishop of the area decided to test the validity of this. He told her to ask Jesus to tell her what the last thing he confessed was (in her next vision). And she did. Jesus’ response? “I don’t remember.”
He doesn’t remember.
God is the god of Present Tense.
I believe that acting righteously comes as a response – a response to God’s love and grace. But if you’ve never experienced that love and grace from his followers, why the hell would you want to live morally?
We talk about “speaking the Truth in love,” but what we’re saying isn’t with love. And love, real honest-to-God love is Truth.
—
I want you all to converse about this. I know half of you disagree with this. Half of you are going to say things like “but God hates sin!” and claim my doctrine is flimsy. But is it? I urge you all to challenge me, but please back it up with the words of Christ.
with love and squalor,
Ezek.
October 29, 2009 Leave a comment
I can see the forest for the trees – at least, now I can.
Let me try to sum up this past month in a series of random words sandwiched between a linking verb and object, as if they were all true adjectives. Get what I’m saying? You’ll see:
I hate fields-dying-RELEVANT-boys-cancer-distances-viruses-overwhelming-deadlines-midterms-crying-breakdowns-failures-unskilled-dry-unfocused-hate/love-Bminus-Huckins-emailharassment-dramatic Octobers.
This was my October. How was yours?
I don’t say this to complain; I say this in reflection.
A few weeks ago I had my “breakdown,” the day after Lindsey and Autumn had their own. But since then it’s almost been worse. My poor emotions have been strangled with rope, shoved into a cage, thrown into the ocean and anchored to the bottom. I guess I can only afford one breakdown a semester?
Long story short: boys suck, I have no idea where I want to work when I grow up, my mom has some health complications and boys suck.
Not all boys suck, sorry.
It’s been healthy to get away from campus. I feel like I can see what I’m going through for what it is. A valley. That’s all it is. It’s another valley. I’ve been through tons.
And what I’ve learned through previous valleys is that you can either grow closer to God through them or let them push you away from him. It’s your choice.
I want to kick and scream. I want to tell people what I think of them.
But … gosh. I can’t. I have to keep chugging along. I gotta keep praying and reading and talking and singing and whatever else.
But sometimes it’s hard.
-Ezek.
October 24, 2009 Leave a comment
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