Betty, Veronica, and Korean Accents

So I don't know if any of you have been to the Glendale mall lately, but there's an evangelical group that roams around there in ones and twos.  And guess who they found?

Technically, I guess I asked for it.  See, I had run into one of them earlier this year.  Their game is to look for people to talk to and they start off their pitch by saying something to the point of, "Do you believe in God the mother as well as God the father?"

The first time they tried to talk to me, I wasn't very friendly, I admit. I was trying desperately to find sweaters and Christmas presents and I didn't have a lot of time to stop and chat about gender identities for God.  So I shook her off, and went on my way.

And instantly regretted it later.  Because, you know, why NOT engage somebody like that?  What do they have to say?  Is it crazy cocoa cocoa puffs or not?

So last night, I'm at the Glendale Galleria again, this time on a hunt for jewelry for a friend's wedding on Saturday.  And as I'm dashing around, I remember that poor possible crazy cocoa cocoa puffs gal and I idly mention it to God, "I wish I'd bump into those people again so I'd have something to write about for the blog."

Not more than seven minutes later, a Korean and African American gal grab me right out in front of a jewelry store.

OH!  THAT PRAYER, YOU'LL ANSWER SPEEDILY?  REALLY?  NOTHING ABOUT MY CAREER?  Seriously!?!?

Okay, so here they are, what's their deal?  They are Betty and Veronica (obviously not their real names), from the World Mission Society Church of God and Betty is the leader of the conversation, which is only regrettable in the fact that her Korean accent is SO thick, there's many times where I have to say, "I'm sorry?"  And it's not about her telling me about the three parts in the Bible that specify God is "the bride."

But yep, that's their pitch, God and "the bride" a few times in Revelation, (Rev. 19:7 Rev  22:17, to name a few.)  When I point out that it's generally understood that in Revelation at least, references to "the bride" are understood to mean "the church," Betty comes back with "How can the church be coming down out of heaven?" and "How can you be born without a mother?"

Even though I told them that I'm a Christian and I believe in God, they don't let go of their stranglehold they have on their pitch.  But WHAT exactly they're pitching, is really unclear.

They really want me to believe in God the father AND God the mother?  Why?  What for?  I don’t get it.  I don’t need to get it.  If you’re walking up to strangers in the Glendale Galleria and trying to persuade them of something, you’re kinda going about it the wrong way anyway. 

They wanted my phone number, just like those pushy people on my college campus ages and ages ago, so they could call me to remind me to come to their church.  No, thank you.  I got their phone number, and said I’d think about what they had said.

But all things considered, they would do well to have someone say it without a thick Korean accent.  Says me.

Thoughts On Giving Up Sugar and Alcohol For A Month

Things are somewhat getting back to normal after the Hey, Let’s Get Tangled Up In A Hit and RUNNNNNNN events of the past few weeks.

My month long abstention from sugar and alcohol ended on June 8^th, so I’ve had plenty of time to jump back on board the Tequila Train.

(let’s be clear, I don’t drink a lot.  Friday through Sunday is usually it.)

The Hit And Run Accident happened before June 8^th, though, and I was completely in my rights to go home and drink myself silly, to cheer myself up, and make myself feel better at this horrible world where bad people can hit your car and run away and never experience any consequences that you will ever be made aware of.

And while I went home, and yes, I cried on the couch and whined to God about how this year has been really mean and generally sounding like a petulant bratty 12 year old, but I did not drink.

And part of that was due to the petulant bratty 12 year old that paradoxically said, “I’m not gonnnnnnnna just because I coulllllllld if I waaaaaaaanted tooooooo.”

But a bigger part of me recognized through the tears and the brattyness that drinking would not improve this situation one bit.  The car’s bumper would still be mangled.  The bad guy would still be gone, and I am still on the hook for a $1,000 deductible.

And I think that’s the biggest thing that I learned from the Month Without Sugar Or Alcohol – why do you drink?  Why do you eat sugar?

Not a new revelation about my discipline or self control.  Not a hard learned lesson about the addictive properties of refined sugar.  Not even an interesting science experiment about how much my tolerance dipped in a month (which manifested itself not in the number of drinks I consumed after the month, but the headaches which showed up the day after.)

I can easily say that giving up sugar and alcohol wasn’t worth it.  It didn’t make me a better person.  I was damn cranky and snarly.  The scale said I lost five pounds, but you couldn’t see it anywhere on me.  I didn’t feel healthier.  I didn’t feel better.

But what I did learn was more along the lines of why do you drink?  Why do you eat sugar?

The sugar question is easier to answer because the answer is simply because it’s there.  If you swap M&Ms out with grapes or pineapple, you still get a sweet fix and can consider yourself a better person.  One Diet Coke a day or a Skinny Vanilla Latte from Starbucks can handle your caffeine fix.  Those are habits I can easily maintain without issue.  Though, yes, I did have Yogurtland on Sunday and yes, it was glorious.

The alcohol question.  Well, it definitely made me reexamine my habits, and how casually I would throw back a drink for no other reason than it’s Friday, the start of the weekend.  I could easily cut that out, no problem.  Make my drinking intentional and purposeful.

The biggest benefit to drinking is when I write.  Because alcohol drowns out the negativity in my head that constantly whisper you suck, you suck you suck suck suck, and what you’re writing is absolute crap, and why are you even bothering to try because you are never going to get anywhere, I promise you.

And yes, I could go to therapy, I could read a self help book, I could do a lot of things, but none of those solve the writer’s block as quickly as a glass of Don Julio.

And, as any writer will tell you, sometimes the most important thing you can do is get over that block and start writing.

So I think I will modify my habits, and will become Queen of Moderation.  Though there’s probably nothing nicer than a Sunday afternoon Mojito.  And I think I will be okay in saying I don’t need a reason to justify one of those.

Was This Really Necessary?

So yeah, I was in a hit and run accident last Tuesday.  Some idiot came up behind me as I was on an on ramp to a freeway and slammed into my car.  I swerved around a lot, got the car back under control, and pulled over onto the shoulder of the freeway.

The other car comes up around me, the passenger in the front seat indicates that they’re gonna take the next off ramp, so I pull out behind them. 

And that’s when they take off, speeding far far away, deliberately losing me in the traffic.  I don’t have time to grab the iPhone to take a picture of the license plate or anything.

And once again, the ironic thing about everything is that not less than thirty minutes before, I was talking to God.  Things have been so stagnant for so long, and so, like any good little Christian who’s sat through thousands of sermons, I offered up prayers to God and said, “Is there something You’re trying to show me that I’m not seeing?  Please open my eyes.  Please show me what You’re trying to tell me.  Please tell me.  I’m listening.”

And then fifteen minutes later, this joker slams into my car.

(longtime readers of the blog will remember that The Worst Day Ever also involved me praying in a car.  If there’s a sensible takeaway to any of this, it’s that I need to STOP PRAYING IN THE CAR.)

I haven’t felt this helpless in quite some time.  And perhaps it’s an apt metaphor for my life currently – me doing my absolute damndest to accomplish something (get the license plate number of a hit and run driver) and watching it zoom away, completely out of my reach.  I’m trying my hardest and I’m failing completely.

Having said all of that, I do have some handy dandy tips for any of you that happen to find yourself in this kind of situation in the future:

1. If your accident happens on a freeway, call the highway patrol, not the police.

2. They do not have cameras on on or off ramps to freeway, so try your hardest to have your accident ON a freeway preferably under a camera, ho ho ho.

3. You will be screaming, crying, and trying to survive a killer adrenaline rush.  But as soon as the car is parked, take pictures of the damage.  The cops will most likely take 45 to an hour to get to you, do not waste the daylight.

4. When you call the police (or highway patrol) make sure you have your exact location before you call them.  Don’t say “On such and such a street across from a swimming pool.”  Get the cross streets, get the name of the recreation center attached to the swimming pool, so they can find you.

Things Not To Say To Someone Who’s Been In A Hit And Run Accident (Assuming They’ve Told You Their Whole Story):

1. “Did you get the license plate number?”
1. If they HAD gotten the license plate number, they would’ve included that detail in the story. You asking them, and them saying no to you makes them feel stupid all over again, like it’s their fault, like they didn’t try hard enough, when very technically, you’re not supposed to chase down a hit and run driver because it’s dangerous.  Don’t make them feel bad.  It’s along the same lines of, “Have you sold any scripts lately?” Believe me, if I had, you’d know.
2. “Didn’t you go to the doctor?”
1. Again, if there was any injury to them, they would’ve included that in the story.  A good tipoff is listening for the phrase, “The airbags went off and everything.”  If you don’t hear anything like that, it’s a good assumption that they are okay, just really really pissed and upset.
3. “It could have been so much worse.”
1. Yes, I know.  I could’ve been killed, I could’ve been decapitated, I could’ve had all four limbs broken and have to type with my nose for the rest of my life.  But look, that could’ve happened to you too.  Things could ALWAYS be WORSE to ANYONE.  I will look on the bright side after the appropriate amount of anger and frustration has taken its course.  Don’t cut off that emotional avenue.  It’s not healthy to suppress that.
4. “Maybe God used you in some way to get through to the Hit And Run Driver, like maybe hitting you prevented another bigger accident, or perhaps served as a wake-up call to the Hit and Run Driver.”
1. Oh, gosh, that’s lovely.  I don’t want to hear how me and my mangled back bumper (that’s going to cost 2 grand to fix) served as a footnote to someone else’s catharsis.  God could’ve totally gotten through to that guy without me and my vehicle.  He’s God, after all. 

But here’s a list of What You Can Say To Someone Who’s Been In A Hit And Run Accident (Assuming They’ve Told You Their Whole Story):

1. Gosh, I am so so sorry. 
2. That totally sucks.
3. Hugs.
4. Thinking about you.
5. I’m gonna talk to God later about this.
6. Do you need a drink?
7. Here is a Twix bar just for you.
8. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

I have screamed at God, I’ve yelled at God, I may have called Him an asshole, but I didn’t use the f-bomb. I consider that a small small small step forward.

But just one day at time.  That’s all I can focus on now.

Well, I had a post tonight...

But then I got hit by a car that then took off.

So now I have to go wrangle police and insurance information.

and you will get your post next week.

People suck.

Free Tract Society For You!

It was a grocery store parking lot in Glendale, but they’ve found me again!

Today’s religious tract left under my windshield is brought to you by the Free Tract Society, who have a website here that doesn’t do much and a facebook page where, among other things, they lament that Obama won re-election here.

Just a single page, double sided.  The first page lists famous bible verses where the overarching theme is CHRIST DIED for us and our sins.

The second page is  KEEP THESE THOUGHTS BEFORE YOU AND REMEMBER, and it’s a run down of standard stuff like “Salvation is free” and “Every Blessing you enjoy in the life, even the air you breathe, comes from God.”  Sure, there’s a tiny bit of “God is just and sin must be punished,” but I’d say the bulk of it is refreshingly free from pointed fingers about how you’re a bad person in need of redemption.  They’re not trying to scare you at all (they’re gonna let their facebook page do that, I guess) and that’s a good thing.

At the end of the second page, is ACCEPT CHRIST NOW.  And yet doesn’t go on to say how you do that.  Doesn’t list a website, doesn’t list a phone number.  The address is a PO Box, nobody’s going there in need of revival.

So I’d have to say that Free Tract Society kinda drops the ball there – why tell me all these things and then not tell me how to accept Jesus.  Maybe they ran out of room on their double sided tract, and figured it was more important to end with ACCEPT CHRIST NOW as opposed to AND HERE’S HOW YOU DO IT!

I think what cracks me up more than anything else is the idea of the Free Tract Society person going around, slipping these under the windshield, and then patting themselves on the back.  I did a good thing today!  I put Free Tract For Jesus under car windshields!  Maybe people will come to Christ because of me!  I won’t follow up on my good deed, so I have no idea what effect I had at all, but I did a good deed!  I did a good deed!  God loves me and the good deed I did!

Yep.  It’s awesome, all right.

Baby Jane and Blanche

I’m on another dogsitting gig through the rest of the month, so say hello to these adorable mini-daschunds, Baby Jane and Blanche.

 Of course those aren’t their real names.  For one thing, these sisters are six, not ancient movie stars.  And they like each other, for the most part.  And finally, they are dogs, not Bette Davis or Joan Crawford, heh.

But yes, they are just as adorable as they look in the pictures.  They’re allowed on the furniture, they’re relatively well behaved (unless they see a squirrel, then it’s game over) and they don’t require much, they just wanna be on the couch with you.  And I want them to be on the couch with me, although it does make writing hard, since I wanna snuggle those little noses to DEATH.

Their owners told me about the breakfast/dinner ritual, which includes a prayer.  The owners somewhat embarrassingly explained that I didn’t have to say a prayer, but they did, and I think it’s hilarious, so I’m totally keeping the tradition while the owners are gallivanting in Europe. 

The ritual is simple.  I pour the kibble in the bowls.  I get Baby Jane and Blanche to sit.  I put the bowls on the ground, but they’re supposed to stay put and not move.  Then I say the prayer, and as soon as I say, “Okay,” the pups zoom for their bowls, and inhale the kibble in something under 3 minutes (I’m not kidding.)

The prayer can be about anything, since, you know, dogs can’t understand most English (though they appear to equate, “Okay” with “DINNER TIME!  RUN RUN GET IT NOW!  IT MIGHT LEAVE!”)

So I thank God that Blanche and Baby Jane are generous enough to allow me to use their meal time for my own personal prayers.  I usually thank God for the day, I pray that the morning/evening will be productive and successful.  I ask God to bless the kibble (though I don’t think unblessed kibble tastes any different).  I thank God for Blanche and Baby Jane, and thank you thank you thank you, Lord, Amen.

“Okay!”

I wonder what runs through the doxies’ minds while I do this.  I wonder if the presence of God can fall upon an animal who doesn’t know a God exists.  Sure, there’s been plenty of examples where God shines through the love of an animal, but does that animal KNOW they’re being used as an example, as a vessel?  In other words, we look at the dog and see God.  What does the dog see when we’re looking at it?

I guess it’s possible the that dog looks at us and thinks WE’RE God, since we’re the provider of the kibble and the water, and we’re the ones who open doorways of opportunities that lead to backyards where bathroom duties abound in abundance.

So then it’s just God reflecting between man and dog, a never ending circle of God’s grace reflected over and over and over again.

And dogs will never understand that.  Ho, ho, ho.

Wasn't Lent Two Months Ago?

I decided to give up sugar and alcohol for a month.  I have a friend’s wedding coming up, and I wanted to look nice for that, and I haven’t had a test of discipline like this in a long time.

“Lent was two months ago!” crowed some of my friends when they heard I was doing this.  I know, I know, I know.  And it’s not as though I’m a sugarholic or alcoholic.  I only drink on the weekends, and that’s when I indulge in dessert as well (I eat fruit during the workweek).  So it shouldn’t be that hard to go for a month without those things, right?  Sure, right, right.

But damned if, after taking those small things away, the cravings start INSTANTLY.  I was walking through Party City on Saturday, and I had no idea they had a candy section for parties, and it was like walking through some kind of Candy Bazonkaland.  And true, it was all wrapped up in plastic bags and bins with blaring signs (5 for $1.00!), and probably no adult would want this kind of candy.  But I had to walk slowly through it and do one of those sense memory things, where I imagined the taste of a Three Musketeer mini thingie, or what a junior mint tastes like.  Had to go through the whole experience before I could move on and let it go.

I tried going to the sugar free section of a candy store, but those items looked as though they had been there for years, like NOBODY wants to eat the sugar free peppermint patties, heh.

If I’ve been binging on anything, it’s Mad Men, and you know ALL they do is drink on that show.  Watching people drink at work, knowing I can’t drink at home, that’s actually been easier for me. 

And when you stop doing these things, and then analyze the urges when they come up, it seems that when I’m really stressed (like dress shopping for this friend’s wedding) is when I REALLY want some kind of sugar candy thing.  Like there was a bowl of perfectly wrapped pink and red taffy at this one dress shop, and normally I’d just dive on in, but I had to stop myself. 

And when you’re at a play, and it seems everyone around you has their little plastic cups of wine, or beer bottles, and you’ve got a bottled water, it’s not difficult.  It does make you wonder why you drink in the first place, or at least, why do you drink at a play.  (I drink when I’m writing to quiet the critical voices in my head that inhibit creativity)

But overall, I don’t understand the whole Lent thing.  Like if I was doing this officially for Lent, and in the grip of a craving, I’m supposed to be calling on Jesus to help me through the craving, or saying to God something along the lines of, “I want You, God, more than I want this beer!”

Which seems to really cheapen the notion, somehow.  I much prefer to think that I’m strengthening my resolve, my discipline, my commitment skills.

And how does THAT help your relationship with God at all?

Um…. Okay, fine, I don’t rightly know.  Man, this is when I would drink.  But I’m not going to, ho ho ho.

Moms, Dads, Death and Mad Men

This post is coming from a sicky brain.  See, even that sentence right there didn’t make sense.  I have called work saying I’m sick, is what I’m trying to say.  Which is also why this post is coming to you a day late.  With frequent breaks to stretch on the bed and feel the fluid in my ears slosh to and fro.  It’s lovely.

A college friend’s mother passed away this week.  It occurs to me that my peer group is now hitting the age range where our parents are passing on (dying seems like such a rude word) to higher grounds more frequently.  Or not.  

Additionally, Mother’s Day is coming up on Sunday.  I have other friends who are passing around links to articles about why you should stop hassling women who don’t want to have kids.  I rarely get hassled about why I don’t want kids.  I think all the righteous indignation I would get to spew would be fun.  Which is probably why God has mostly kept all those hasslers away from me.

I do hate it when I hear pastors in the pulpit talk about how you don’t understand God’s love for us until you become a parent yourself. And it’s insulting, not just to people like me who don’t want kids, but to the people who have been desperately trying to have kids and not been successful.  To generalize that there’s a dimension to God’s love that parents can access and non-parents can’t, well, shame on you for characterizing God’s love like that.  You don’t know how many dimensions of love God has.  Nobody does.

But while not everyone wants to be a parent, everyone HAS a parent, or a loved one, or even a liked one, and that means most everyone will have to experience the death of that person.

And that is something I rarely hear about from the pulpit.

“Grief waits” said my friend Tricia a long time ago, and while I am not fetal and sobbing on the floor yet (and I wonder if I ever will be), there are more times where that searing pricking behind the eyeballs sensation hits, and I’m on the verge of tears in odd places.

For example, I’ve been binge watching Mad Men, as I’ve heard it’s an example of great writing on TV and Netflix has the first five seasons on instant streaming, and I’m already caught up on Breaking Bad.

I remember Dad saying he liked watching it, and I said I didn’t watch it because I didn’t have time, and that was the end of that conversation.  But then again, we both watched Amazing Race and didn’t talk about that much either, so it’s not as though bonding through shared interests worked with us.

Having made it through season 3 so far, I can see why Dad liked the show.  That was his era, being a company man in the 1960’s.  Dad wasn’t an ad man, but he did spend time in the sales department of his company. 

One the nicest emails we received in the aftermath of Dad’s passing was from a former co-worker of his who was one of the only women hired in his department.  “Your Dad was the kindest, most professional, smartest, honest person I have ever worked with… he always treated me with the greatest respect and was a true gentleman.”

I’d like to think that Dad would’ve been similarly nice to Peggy in the Mad Men world.

And as I watch the lovingly re-created world of the 1960s, with its smoking and drinking and fashion (and lamps.  For some reason, I always look at the lamps in the set design), every now and then I whisper up to Dad, “You were right, Dad.  It’s a good show.”

And I hear the smile in his voice as he says back in my brain, “Yep.  I told ya so.”

Got a deadline tomorrow...

Which means I'll be burning the proverbial 2:00 AM oil...

and you all will have a post next week!  Promise! :)

Check Out The Updated Hall Of Fame Section!

It's right over here, on the right hand side:

(okay, go to the right, THEN scroll down, under the ABOUT ME section.)

I've put the best entries of 2012 in there! Only four months into 2013! This is early for me! Ya-wooooo!

In going back through last year to figure out what qualified as Hall Of Fame Posts, I realized that, whoa. A shitload of stuff happened last year. Good and bad. So much stuff happened, in fact, that I'm surprised I'm still standing. Which is why I had to sit down. And cry a bit.

 But I'm okay now. So feel free to peruse at your leisure! Yay!

Hoping and Knowing (And a Beagle!)

2013 has been pretty quiet on the writing side.  When you play the At This Time Last Year I Was (Fill In The Blank) Game, it’s pretty bad.  Basically, you don’t wanna play that game unless you’re on an UPSWING.  If you’re not on a career upswing, it’s a bummer.

I’m not on a career upswing currently.  Considering that for the past two years, people have been paying me to write things, sometimes for not much, sometimes for more than I thought, and here we are in 2013, and nobody is paying me anything to write anything.

This is nothing new.  Every writer’s life has upswings and downswings, of course.  Months of activity followed by long stretches of inactivity.  I have plenty of friends I can look to for examples. 

And I remind myself that when all of this started with the Magic Phone Call in 2011, that it was a call I couldn’t possibly have foreseen, I didn’t know to work for it, to even pray for it.  God was working behind the scenes in ways I didn’t know to work for, or even how to pray for.

So I tell myself that the same thing could be happening here:  that God is once again the Grand Tinkerer, fiddling with cosmic knobs, dials, building doors to roads He wants me to go down, and if I just hold on, if I just sit and wait on His timing, that more will be revealed.

Sure, I have plenty of times where I start thinking flutter anxiety bird thoughts of it’s a lie!  A lie!  2011 – 2012 was a complete aberration!  We now return you to your regularly scheduled life of Always Trying and Rarely Succeeding When It Comes To Writing!  Happy Trails!

And then I have to remind myself - Patience, patience patience.  I can say that I know God is moving behind the scenes, cooking up something, and being all Grand Tinkerer-like, but the truth of the matter is that I’m HOPING He does. 

It’s a very very thin line between KNOWING and HOPING, and I tend to fall on the side of HOPING more often than I should, these days.

Because the common fear is what if what I KNOW turns out to be not true?  That what I was telling myself was me KNOWING, was me just HOPING?

Then you go back and tailor your Hopes.

So instead of I Hope God Is Preparing The Next Writing Opportunity For Me, it’s…

I Know God Will Never Leave Me.

Instead of I Hope God Will Lead Me To A Future Where I’m A Professional Writer And I Move Into A Place That Has A Bathtub, it’s…

I Know God Has A Plan For Me.

Maybe that plan involves writing.  Maybe that plan even involves getting paid for my writing again.

Regardless, I have to take comfort in what I Know.

And continue to wait.

And here is a picture of Bella Beagle.  Just because.

When The Lights Go Out

So last night we had severe winds in Los Angeles, and I arrived home to discover the power was out.  This wouldn’t be a bad thing in and of itself, except for the fact that I’m dogsitting over at the Beagle House for Bella, Bonnie, and new beagle Beulla.  Since they’re dogs, they don’t really care if it’s daytime or nighttime, as they spend 80 percent of their time sleeping, so it might as well be night to them anyway.

But I quickly have to feed them and give them their meds using the last bit of daylight outside.  And while I just pulled that out by the skin of my teeth, the next order of business was trying to find a flashlight.

You’d think this would be easy because, you know, it’s a FLASHLIGHT.  I know exactly where the flashlight is at the Shabby Shack (but then again, the Shabby Shack is the size of a closet, how could I NOT know where everything is.)  I even know where the flashlight is at Scamper Butthead’s house, that’s how long I’ve been dogsitting at that location.

But I haven’t spent enough time at the Beagle House in enough strange circumstances to know where the flashlights are here.

So I checked the usual places -  junk drawers, the hall closet, nightstands near beds, all coming up bupkiss.  I do find one of those long gas flamey lighter things, the kind you use to light candles with, and go hunting around the house like I’m spelunking or something.  The hilarious part was that any turn or movement would snuff the flame off, and I now know how to make a horror movie.  YA-WOOOOOO

I’m sure this could be used as a metaphor for life – running around a strange house, desperate to find illumination before the daytime light runs out.  Sending up somewhat frantic prayers to God, Please please please help me find a workable flashlight, only to find those silly fake candles with the battery operated light to make it look like they flicker, and thinking THIS is how you answer my prayer?  This is not enough light!  HELP ME FIND A LIGHT!

And your answer is, eventually, a couple of cinnamon candles, some tea lights, plus two wall plug emergency lights, plus an LED light I keep in the glove compartment of my car, and finally, the lone flashlight that was under the sink. 

As predicted, the beagles did not care one whit about the encroaching darkness, so obviously they’re evil (kidding!), and luckily their owners get the hard copy newspaper, so I spent two hours reading the Sunday Times by this pasted together light before the power came back on (and the beagles didn’t wake up for that either, ho ho ho.)

So I guess perhaps the lesson could be – Your Resourcefulness + God’s Sense Of Humor = A Somewhat Workable Answer.

It’s enough for now.  :)

Easter Sunday and Angels

So yes, they mentioned Easter on Easter Sunday at church.  Thank GOODNESS.  Sure, the sermon was still wonkily on the Beatitudes but at least there was the Call And Response that every Good Little Christian knows “He is Risen!”  “HE IS RISEN, INDEED!”  And they had decorated with white streamers and stuff, so that was good, so yes, Easter was officially acknowledged, which is good (they also had a Good Friday service, but I still prefer Palm Sunday).

The day before, I was doing some writing and this song pops up on my iTunes (sorry about the ad before, this was the best quality of the video that I could find.) 

U2 ~ "If God Will Send His Angels" '97 by seasonwitch

I’m most familiar with the version that went on the City Of Angels soundtrack, as opposed to the original version on the Pop album.  But since the video they made went with the City Of Angels version, that’s the one I’m gonna work with here.

Nobody else here baby no one else here to blame

No one to point the finger...

It's just you and me and the rain

I’ve always liked the song because of the blatant yearning underlining the lyrics.  We all want God to send His Angels, a sign, a promise, rescue, deliverance, all that stuff.

If God will send his angels

And if God will send a sign

Well if God will send his angels...

Would everything be alright?

And it seemed eerily apropos for Good Friday through Easter Sunday, like most of the song (perhaps not all the lyrics fit, but a large percentage of them do) could have come from Jesus himself, longing for his Father.

If God will send his angels

And if God will send a sign

Well if God will send his angels...

Where do we go?

Where do we go?

I’m not intending to make a flippant comparison.  I know all the traditional things and metaphors and background behind Jesus and Good Friday.  But his transparent longing for his Father to rescue him, and the naked longing behind the song, both are born from the same place, I think.

If God will send his angels

Sure could use them here right now

Well if God would send his angels

One of those things about growing older is that you get more accustomed to the struggle, and less likely to continue calling for a sign that God’s there.  At  least, in my experience, it’s more of a It Doesn’t Matter How Many Times You Ask, God Will Show Up When He Wants To.  And you kind of settle into this okay temperature of living.  What used to be a bubbling cauldron of discontent is more of a subtle beating of I know You’re there, I know You can hear me, You know I need help, please help me (but I won’t be surprised if Your idea of help and my idea of help are completely different.)

Perhaps that’s what growing up is like.

And I don't have to know how /so where do we go

And I don’t need to why

And I don't want a promise

And I don't want a lie/ where do we go

Just know I need you/where do we go

tonight..

It Was Palm Sunday

So I went to church this past Sunday, narrowly avoiding a SWAT copter trying to corral an alleged out of control bathrobe-wearing woman with a knife (I think they lost her when she went back inside a house), a protest at the Post Office because people still want their mail delivered on Saturdays, and mobs and mobs of people checking out the second service, all of which is enough to make me want to go back to the first service, especially next week, since it's Easter Sunday.

Yeah, that's right!  Next week IS Easter Sunday!  So this week is Palm Sunday!  Right!?  Right!?  Because that's what usually happens?  Palm Sunday is a week before Easter Sunday?  And normally, you'll see the cute parade of kids waving palm fronds (which, this being Los Angeles, can't be that hard to round up.  The palm fronds, I mean.  Or little kids, they have those here in L.A. too) and there'll be some variation of Jesus Christ Superstar's "HO SANNA HEY SANNA SANNA SANNA HO, SANNA HEY SANNA HO SANNAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

There should be some mention in the sermon about Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, fulfilling the prophecy of Zechariah that the Messiah would ride into Jerusalem, “on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9) and all sorts of stuff.

Know what my church did instead?  Debuted their new church app for your smartphone.

Seriously.

No little kids.  No palm fronds.  No Jesus Christ Superstar songs.  Oh, they talked about Easter Lilies, would you like to donate one for next week?  They talked about Easter services next week, and how you should invite your friends.  And the sermon was continuing our study of The Beatitudes, the verses on Judge not, Lest Ye Be Judged.

Oooooooh, I get it.  I'm not even supposed to call my church weird for debuting their church app on Palm Sunday instead of talking about Palm Sunday.  Because that'd be JUDGING them.

I went back in my notes (Yes, I'm a sermon note-taking weirdo).  Last year, it was a guest speaker, but the sermon was still about Palm Sunday.  In 2011, it was one of our rotating pastor's last sermon, as he was leaving for another job, but he still talked about the resurrection of Jesus.  2010, Palm Sunday, check.  2009 Palm Sunday, check. 2008, Guest Speaker, Palm Sunday, check.

So, for the past five years, they've honored Palm Sunday. And this week, they didn't mention it.  They don't have a problem honoring Easter every year.  Or Christmas every year.  They're even doing a Good Friday service this year.

And Palm Sunday got the boot.  

I wonder why.  And I wonder why it bugs me so much.

I think it has something to do with Palm Sunday as the beginning of the end.  The irony and hypocrisy in the celebration, that these same cheering people will turn on Jesus in just a few days.  We are all hypocrites at some point or another, denying Jesus in our own ways, in our own times.  Even though we beg for forgiveness, even though we repent.  None of us are worthy, but Jesus still takes us back, still dies for us all, still forgive us.

And I wished that we had heard some sort of meditation on that this past Sunday. 

Maybe I'll go looking around online.

Always Try

One of the places we stopped at during the birthday weekend was a little seaside pier.  Your standard pier, with roller coasters, laser tag, and carousels and bumper cars.  and a ropes course, where you've got a harness on, and a rope connecting your harness to a track above you.  And then you maneuvered yourself around different obstacles, ropes, steps, etc, all while connected to the track above you.  

Here’s some pictures from the internet to give you an idea of what it looked like (minus the cruise ship in the background)

It looked like a lot of fun, and for two seconds, I was tempted to try it.

But then I saw a little girl up there.  Maybe 5 or 6.  A quick glance of the situation showed that her brother was already zooming around the course, having a blast.  Her mom was on the ground, encouraging her to try. I thought I was gonna see some amazing confidence, a true feat of a Child Gaining Courage And Overcoming Her Fears.  It was going to be awesome.

But not to be.

The little girl, while not outright bawling and throwing a fit (probably because she was a good twelve feet off the ground), definitely had Trembly Lip and Teary Eyes going.  She knew the situation.  She knew (or at least I thought she knew) that there was no real threat of her falling.  She was safely inside her harness, the harness was safely attached to the rope and track above.  There could be no safer way for her to try and explore and do something really cool and fun.

But she couldn't bring herself to try.  

She eased one foot out, then another.  Then stopped.  Her dad suited up and joined her up there, again encouraging her to try.  Just try.

The little girl did not want to try.  Trembly Lip and Teary Eyes prevailed.  She shook her head and eventually made her way back down to safe ground.

I guess you could said she DID try.  Tried for two steps, enough to know she didn’t want to do it and back down she goes.  But it would’ve have been so much fun to, what, what, try harder?  To overcome a fear?  To realize you’re stronger than you think?

That girl is going to be sticking with me for a while, I think.  What is it I’m afraid of?  What is it you’re afraid of? 

Are we going to go all Trembly Lip and Teary Eyes and not try to literally stick out foot out, one by one, to explore new ropes, new obstacles, new territories, just because it feels unsafe?  Don’t we know we’ve got God on our side, that we can’t fall, that he is our rope/carabiner combo tethering us?

Always try.  Always try harder (not talking about salvation here). Always come right up close to your fear and stick it out for two seconds longer than you think you can.  Amazing things might happen if you do.

It's my birthday week...

So I'm giving myself a blogging week off.

But by all means, please enjoy this awesome picture of Bella Beagle, the only dog I know who smiles:

She smiles even when you're not messing around with her face, see?

See ya next week!

The Pursuit To Understand

This weekend found me in San Francisco with Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather, who I hadn’t seen in a long long time. We did the Walk Around San Francisco thing, we did the Expensive Boho Tea House thing, The Best Pizza In Berkeley Thing, we stumbled into a Happy Hour in Chinatown that rocked, and we even went to Pier 39, where we spent exactly three minutes looking at the sea lions before we had to take off.

We also went to a church Merriweather had heard about before. (It’s not this church, I just recognize the need for graphics in these long text posts). Since the service was at noon, it was easily catchable. And it was one of those pleasant non-denominational yet uber high tech churches, the kind that have the roving cameras, and they cross-cut during the songs so the whole thing looks like a Christian music video.

And I was excited about going, because I was eager to hear a new church. My church is fine, and pleasant, and yet I feel myself stagnating in my spiritual growth.

So here I am, hopped up on a large chai latte and ready to hear the WORD, ready to LEARN, ready to be CHALLENGED, ready to be INSPIRED.

The sermon is appropriately Easter themed – Jesus at the crossroads in Gethseme. And the slickly produced video that went before the sermon was intriguing enough, saying that sometimes the question isn’t which road do I go down, but how painful will it be. Okay, great, cool, totally been there, hit me with an amazing sermon that I can latch onto.

And yet… I got lost. No, no, not lost, I knew I exactly what it was. The sermon just… didn’t engage me. And then I felt so badly that I didn’t connect with the sermon more and WHY wasn’t I connecting with the sermon more? Why did I keep falling asleep? I thought the chai latte would keep me up! I don’t have to worry about the pastor seeing me fall asleep in front of him, we were in the overflow room watching the video screen of him.

I felt even worse when after the sermon, Merriweather says how much she really got into the sermon, it really made her think, she wishes she could get her boyfriend to listen to more sermons like these. I was about to say, “I was kinda bored,” but I couldn’t after Merriweather’s rave.

Typically in situations like these, my automatic response is not speak up! But what’s wrong with you? Everyone else liked it, why didn’t you?

So I thought maybe I should give it another try. Blame it on the chai latte, it socked me out instead of perking me up.

So yesterday, I wandered onto the church’s website, where don’tcha know, they upload all the pastor’s sermons with sound AND video. No mp3s for this tech crowd, you get picture too! (makes sense, this is San Francisco, a tech mecca).

And I listen to the sermon again, about the choice Jesus faced in the garden of Gethsemane. How not his will, but God’s must be done.

I remembered more than I thought I would. But the sermon still didn’t do anything for me. Maybe I’m just spoiled from my current home church, who have bullet points galore for each sermon, and commit themselves to whole books of the Bible to study (we’re doing the Beatitudes currently). This slick-techy church had three bullet points at the end, and didn’t really go into detail about them.

The whole experience makes me wonder what I need or expect from a sermon from a church. It sounds wrong to say, I wanna be entertained! Because while humor is helpful, it can also be superficial, and one would think studying the word of God would warrant a deeper effort.

But what do I expect when I listen to a sermon?

1. I want to engage. That means that whatever the sermon topic is about has some direct reference or bearing on my life and that’s what’s going to make me sit up and pay attention. 

2. I want to learn. Either something I had never considered, or a new look at something I did know before.

3. I will pursue/I won’t give up – If I didn’t get it the first time, I’ll try again. I’ll find the sermon again, I’ll listen to it again. If I still don’t get it, I’ll looks into things myself. The reason why I sometimes do 6 week series of stuff in the Bible is what happens when I don’t get stuff from my church.

It’s not enough to say “I didn’t get it” and walk away. TRY to get it. This isn’t about trying to be good (which is practically impossible anyway)., and it’s not about complete knowledge of God, because that’s equally impossible.

This is about not giving up on the pursuit of understanding. Because it’s that pursuit of God that draws you in relationship to Him. I’m not saying I have all the answers, because hell, no, I don’t. I just know that nobody ever got anywhere by giving up. Even in a techy-slick church.

Tiny Books of the Bible #6 - Jude

We're not talking about the famous ones (Esther, Jonah, James) We’re talking about the TINY ones.  The ones rarely quoted in sermons.  And when they are, it takes you twice as long to find them, because they're only 1 to 15 pages long.  Squashed between longer books, what's in these itty bitty books, and what's so important about them that they're in the Bible?

Remember how we said last week that 1 John, 2 John, and 3 John are near Jude and Revelation at the end of the New Testament and the Bible proper?

Did you maybe say to yourself, “Jude?  Who’s Jude?”  Jude is our last entry in the Tiny Books Of The Bible series!  I hope you guys have gotten a few chuckles out of it.  I like doing these series, it’s a way to really get into the nuts and bolts of the Bible that perhaps a regular sermon at your church might not provide.

IT’S SO SMALL!  I CAN’T FIND IT!  WHERE IS IT?

Jude is right before Revelation, the last book in the Bible.

HOW SMALL IS IT?

Jude is two pages, one chapter long.

WHO WROTE IT?

Jude did.  He’s the half-brother of Jesus (sharing Mary as a mom), and full brother of James, who also wrote James, another book in the New Testament, but James is too big for our Tiny Bible series.

WHAT’S THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT?

This book was written around 65 AD or thereabouts, maybe earlier.  The early Christian church was dealing with a bunch of weird beliefs and teachers worming their way into leadership positions.  Jude was writing the book as a kind of warning, whistle-blowing about those wormy teachers.

WHAT’S THE BOOK ABOUT?

Jude’s warning the church (not a specific church, this letter would be carried to several early churches and read aloud to their congregations) about “godless men, who change the grace of our God into a license for immorality and deny Jesus Christ our only Sovereign and Lord.” (Jude 1:4b)  Basically, these false teachers were claiming if you believed that you were saved by grace, you could live however you wanted.  You could eat a bunch of Funyuns, or rob banks, or sleep around with whomever you want.  Sin meant nothing to those forgiven by God.

Jude reminds the church about the time of Moses, how OT God destroyed those people who didn’t believe, and saved those that did.  But belief itself wasn’t enough, as Jude also brings up Sodom and Gomorrah, two cities whose actions condemned them.

Jude also mentions fallen angels (1:6), archangel Michael (1:8) and everyone’s favorite Owner Of A Talking Donkey Balaam (1:11) in warning against these teachers.

Jude winds up the letter by quoting other apostles of Jesus, “In the last times there will be scoffers who will follow their own ungodly desires.” (1:17-18), and that the church should protect themselves so “build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit.”  Keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.” (1:20-22)

Then Jude finishes with the Doxology.  If you’re a regular churchgoer, this may sound familiar, “To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy – to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore!  Amen.” (1:24).  Ends every single service at my church, anyway.

WHAT DID YOU LEARN?    WHY DO YOU THINK IT WAS IN HERE?

Can I just say something that may get me into trouble later?  By all means, go ahead.  I don’t understand people, scholars, I guess, who make it a large part of their life to research and write papers and do all sorts of academic things, all to cast doubt on things in the Bible.  Some people don’t believe Jude wrote Jude.  Some people don’t believe Jude was related to Jesus.  Some people don’t believe Jude should be in the Bible.   And that’s just THIS book.  You can go down many dry and dusty rabbit holes of academia and you will never get the evidence or answer that would change the world’s opinion.  Just justifying your own education and intellect, I guess.  It seems to be such a rarefied career, and for what?  Really, for what?  Dunno.

But Jude is in here because he’s the half brother of Jesus, and what he’s warning about in his letter matched up with what the early Christian churches were facing, so in the Bible it goes.  The End.  Of this series, anyway.  :)