Why Blog?

At this point in the life of the Internet, everyone has a blog of some sort. Frankly I’m not sure why, the vast majority of people are just not that interesting.
Sometimes I blog just to get a monkey off my back; ideas or feelings that crash about in my head and need to be released before they damage something up there. Sometimes I blog to let people really know what is going on with me. I enjoy being a private person and I am not about to have the self-importance to think that my problems (if I do indeed have any) are unique.
But I’ve recently had the desire to be known by others. Call it a degree of loneliness or just the reluctant realization that I might actually need other people. My primary interest in keeping a blog is simply to write. I want to become better at it and the best way to do so is to practice it. That and also reading blogs of others that can actually write. Wil Wheaton has very much been my inspiration in this way. He writes very personally about common things and stories of his past quite well. And although I disagree with his politics and quite frankly my eyes glaze over when he writes about poker; he has had two books published to date, which seems a decent indicator of success. I admire him very much in his way of peeling away the distance between writer and reader and making it all very personal.
This is not my diary; nor is it a confessional but if being either of those I somehow manage to put more pixels on screen, then it has served its purpose.

The Hardest Part

In the light of recent events, I've discovered something. It is much easier to have Christian faith and practice it when it is not being tested under stress. I have enough faith in Christ to say that "no, I do not want that bright, shiny thing" but when it comes to something that I see as incredibly important/wonderful and that I am more than willing to throw anyone that gets in my way under a bus for... well, then the answer does not come as quickly now does it? I have crossed certain lines and chosen to engage in sin all because I see what I want and nothing is going to stop me from getting it. This puts the 'thing' (or person rather) in a place of more importance than Jesus... not a good thing. I do not know how to justify this cut-throat, tenacious way of thinking with my faith and (ideally) still get the girl.

Everyone sins, I know Jesus was the atonement for all my sins, past, present and future. We live in a messy, broken world and have to operate within it... it's all well and good to speak of ideals but that is not the world. Pragmatic... you go through the day and deal with what has to be dealt with hoping that at the end of it all you end up not as dirty as you could have been, that there is still some shred of faith somewhere deep inside, pristine.

I want to find a Scriptural reference to "the ends justify the means" and I'm pretty sure that it's not there.

Point Of Personal Preference

What do I have to do to get comments on my blog posts, cure the blind???? Quite a few e-mails and phone calls though... thank you everyone for putting up with the Jane Austen novel that is my life. Although personally I'm trying to move it into F. Scott Fritzgerald 'Great Gatsby' territory minus accidental death.

A Blessing And A Curse

Aimee Ryan walked out of the shadows and back into my life however briefly last night.

After a long e-mail exchange, I was eventually persuaded to meet with her in Bellevue. She was feeling remorseful about how things ended with us seven years ago. This is an emotion that I didn’t think she was capable of much less willing to express. But through the course of too short a night, express them she did and in such a way that I actually believe her.

We met in the now nearly cookie-cutter Bellevue mall, she wore an obnoxious pink poofy jacket that I assume she mugged a 12 yo. Japanese girl for. It would seem that her trademark vintage style was left stranded on the wayside at some point. A pity. After an uncomfortable hug and hello we had guarded cups of coffee at Tully’s where she gave me a belated birthday card for my recent entry into true adulthood and a Christmas present to even out the balance for when last we met. Aimee has always been a woman of accessories, especially rings. Since the day I met her, she has always told stories through the rings on her hands during awkward moments. But I couldn’t help but notice the diamond ring on her left hand that told the biggest story of all.

This was an unfortunate discovery as I had asked her before if she was; to which her reply was evasion. She knew that I would not have met with her; a woman that I had loved in every sense of the word if she was. She told me of that marriage and it’s state. I can identify all too easily with the poor, trusting soul that thinks his significant other (or in this case wife) is “out with friends”. Maybe I should have left at that point, I considered it. But I didn’t. Instead we walked and talked about our lives and things from before. It was a lovely and amazing evening that I didn’t want to end. I keep replaying it in my mind to try to extract every detail that I can. But it had to end. I walked her to the same 1994 Mustang GT convertible that she sped out of my life in seven years ago. We both stammered about trying to squeeze just a little more time out of the night. We hugged three times, thinking it was the end only to prolong it again. The hugs were heart heavy. We told each other that we missed one another and then I had to turn and walk away; quickly for fear that I would turn back around and do something stupid.

She had an impatient husband to get home to, the fact making me feel like a scoundrel. But all I wanted to do was hold her there, tell her over and over again how much I miss her and never let her go. She was and always will be my best friend; she knows me and I know her. After a few fitful hours of half-sleep, I realized that I also am still very much in love with her. In fact I never really stopped loving her, circumstances just got in the way of it being expressed. And now these circumstances are painfully and frustratingly obvious. Before, youthful idiocy prevented us from continuing together; now all it is a little silver ring with a colourless stone in it that prevents me from knowing her past that night. Is timing everything in life? Did we squander the one chance we had together? I don't want to say 'yes'.

Aimee proved to me that she really is the woman that I had hoped she was. Before 5 p.m. Friday night, I would have described her uncommon femininity as her most attractive quality; a poise and manner that befits a woman, a lady. Something different about her that elevated her above all others in my mind. But I discovered later that I had forgotten about her moxie and the back-and-forth banter that came so easily to us. It was through this that our friendship and love for one another was based. And I must admit that she is extremely attractive when she is cracking wise.

This would seem to be the end. She wants to stay in touch though e-mail at least. I want to do so very much. But given her situation, it seems that I would only complicate things. I don’t care for drama and even less so for causing it. And even though the night tied up many things we had to say to each other, I am still left with the question of how to deal with Aimee Ryan. The hurt is gone, the hate is gone. What is left now is a missed chance at love that we both regret and that continues to consume portions of our lives. A blessing and a curse.

Christmastime!

Sign of Christmas #201: Harry & David gift baskets from vendors... I'm twitching just thinking about it.

Shutterbug

My camera is giving me fits. I have been repeatedly trying to capture all the right pretty lights at Seattle Centre but ninety percent of what I shoot is worthless. Depending on the settings I use, I either capture way too much or not enough light in the shot. The above shot of the Pacific Science Centre Pavilion is nothing compared to the shite I've already deleted. I think I'll be forced to delve into my camera settings again and actually think about the mechanics of it. Or, I could just 'blame it' on not using a 'proper' camera and use that argument to justify shelling out a new purchase.

Pastor Mark & Our Kooky Christian Family

My trepidation with the planned protest yesterday was thankfully unfounded. I wasn't quite sure what to expect even though I served at the five and attended the seven and therefore supposedly too late for the planned 'festivities'. I made an effort as I was crossing the Ballard Bridge to look for the Mars Hill building to see if it was in flames, thankfully that was not the case.

Mark and the Critics managed to diffuse the situation as he explains in his blog http://www.theresurgence.com/mark_driscoll_2006-12-01_count_it_all_joy

Mark often describes himself as a sinner from the pulpit, as we all are he is not perfect. He and Mars Hill will continue to draw criticism in the future for views held and expressed. No matter how diplomatically those views are couched.

Mars Hill & Criticism

Since I started attending Mars Hill (Ballard) about 1.5 years ago, I was always able to find commentary about it. Usually nice, factual write-ups about it's growth and appeal. The only criticisms coming from the Emergent/Liberal wing of christian churches. But lately that has seemed to change (or perhaps just my awareness of it). Mars Hill (primarily Mark Driscoll) is now firmly in the sights of it's 'opponents'; the far-left loons of Seattle that we are called to love and care for. An announcement was made last week through different sources that there will be a demonstration of some sort from 1000 to 1130 on 3 December. It took me a little digging to find the sources (not that they are hiding). Here they are:

http://groups.myspace.com/peopleoffaithagainstmarshillchurch

http://www.endfundamentalism.org/

And most shockingly local weekly bum blanket, The Stranger!

http://www.thestranger.com/blog/2006/11/mars_hill_protest_ab.php

Also, there have been a few thread posts in the Mars Hill Myspace Group that seem to be planted by detractors; i.e. bomb throwers.

http://groups.myspace.com/marshillchurch

Criticism is not necessarily a bad thing. It can be constructive and should not be avoided. The 'criticism' listed here however is neither of those things. It is hate-filled speech from close-minded people. 'We' have nothing to fear because these are the lost that are merely acting out as certain segments of the lost always have. As long as this knee-jerk reaction does not distract us from seeing them as the objective, then it is all just "sound and fury signifying nothing". Everyone and anything that has been worth a damn throughout history has attracted criticism, but it matters from what quarters it comes from. If John Piper or the like was the attacker, Mark/Mars Hill might be in trouble. But this comes from the expected sources; unbiblical or twisting Scripture, taking comments out of context to suite their aims and simply being hate-filled by branding others so vehemently of that crime. People that just are not going to 'get it' unless God bends their hearts.

"For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."
1 Corinthians 1:18 (ESV)

Judge the success of something by the criticism it attracts. And by that metric, I think Mars Hill is kicking ass.

One Church

Sunday was my long-avoided head-long plunge into giving of my time (service) to Mars Hill; specifically the Children's Ministry. I had an earlier foray with the 'Welcome Team' which sputtered out like a cranky lawn mower. I know enough of myself to realize that I am one that needs to be kept busy, otherwise I atrophy into a recluse. The 'Welcome Team' just stands around chatting and waiting for someone to ask them a question as to how to get 'plugged in' to the chaotic family reunion that is Mars Hill. Just for the record; standing around, chatting... not my shtick.

So, I thought that dealing with kids would keep me suitably busy. (Insert half-crazed, facial twitching laughter here). Did it ever. I was in the 'Toddler 1' room with three others, (all very congenial as with everyone that I've met in that Ministry), the name of the room giving one a clue as to the age of the tykes therein enclosed. I have never even been around kids of that age for any sort of appreciable time, I had some experience years ago with grade 2 kids, which is a great age but toddlers? diapers? CRYING?

The objective was to distract the kids with some toy while their parent quickly ducked out of the room so as to delay or hopefully avoid the 'separation crying'. "Look! Bright, shiny thing! And it has wheels! Wheels I tell you! Isn't it FANTASTIC!?" This seemed to work with most subjects and explained why the room was filled with toys.. they will be needed just like the crate of AK-47's I have stored in the bunker... It was a most vexing chain-reaction, when one would cry, the others would look around and guess that "well, must be a reason" and join in on the maddening chorus.

The personalities were incredibly interesting though. One tyke in particular, 'Elijah' was definitely the brute of the room, being more aggressive and possessive than the rest. But the moment that one of the girls would remember that their mother wasn't there and start in on the crying, he would get extremely worried and run to me to hold him. After about thirty-seconds he'd be fine and I'd be able to set him down.

And the end of this (nearly two hours), I was drained... and a little shell-shocked from the crying. That time was about as much work as two really busy days at work, I don't know how parents retain their sanity. But I like service to the church, I like having that responsibility and of thinking of everyone in terms of a family. I think it's a really quite novel concept in this postmodern world, with distant, broken biologic families and self-centered lives. Not to say that it is a 'new' idea, certainly not it is a very old one. But a welcome one.

And the best reason for serving with kids?

Chicks dig it.

The Biggest Midget In The Game

I made a quick Command Decision and caught the Lady Sovereign show at Neumo's on Saturday night. I adore music but readily admit that the Hippity-Hop is generally down on the bottom of the favourite genre list.

It was good though, it was a little less Hip-Hop and more of a channeling of Rage Against The Machine minus the political subversiveness. Lady Sov puts on a good show, she got our typically jaded Seattle crowd screaming "oi! oi! oi!" and "America - Fuck Yeah!" She does have a dirty little mouth and likes to throw things; mainly water, water bottles and I believe her shoes into the audience.

A pair of 'tween blonde girls were next to me near stage left and they politely tried to get around me to get good photos. You would have thought that a limited edition My Little Pony was being released, these girls were ecstatic. And she noticed these girls and seemed to genuinely appreciate the attention. It was rather nice to see.

In response to this, I have been listening the heck out of 'Public Warning', and really quite like it. The music is all rather cheeky, but it does make me worry if she is just going to be marketed to death. With Missy Elliot having a part in a remix and being signed to Def Jam, sometimes there is such a thing has having too much attention, especially coming right out of the box. But c'est la vie, I have the feeling that the album is worth another good 500 listens or so.

Make way for the S-O-V!

Grandma, No More

So, my grandmother died yesterday morning.

After the hospital took off both of her legs, she just wasn't strong enough to continue living. She was on oxygen until her lungs failed. Apparently Montana is on the cutting edge of 19th century medical science by just hacking off whatever limb(s) are offending. That's not really a fair jab for me to make, being medically clueless, but at the moment I am making it nonetheless. Her death is not a surprise but it still leaves me shocked? empty? missing something.. I'm not sure what the right word would be. I found out by talking with my Mum right before going to church. It defiantly put a new spin to Mark's sermon on Jesus... it was very hard for me to keep it together near the end and I had the impulse to run out of there about every thirty seconds. Thank God I wasn't around anyone I know, they may have mistaken my reactions to being a Charismatic... except I held back on the wacky arm swinging... I think.

I have a real hit-and-miss prayer habit. I had to resort to actually writing the who's and what's down and kindof going through it like a 'to-do' list. It is bland and impersonal, but I do manage to cover my bases at least. Saturday night (morning) before I went to bed, I made sure to pray for Grandma. It was simple; I just asked God to save her. If 'save' meant to make her healthy, then great. If 'save' meant to tap her on the head in the spiritual version of Duck, Duck, Goose.. then even better. Thy will be done. I know she was raised Catholic, but 'raised' and being the 'elect' can be two very different things. I don't mean to sound flippant about the whole thing, nor cold and unfeeling. But I hope that I am realizing my limitations on the matter and God's over-arching soveignity. My most selfish thought would be to have my Grandma around and healthy forever, but that's not life, that's Heaven. And I hope I see her there someday.

I may have rambled. Forgive me.

The Progress Of Ryan

Here's a newsflash: talking to a girl over coffee of even over voicemail reduces me to Jell-o. I'm thirty for Chrissakes, this is not supposed to be. I don't have this problem with ALL girls, just the ones that are devastatingly cute and Christian. If I wasn't attracted to her, I'd come off as smooth as can be. It amuses me in the most dreadful of ways. It all reminds me of that first girl; Emma Thompson in grade nine, of being faced with dancing with her at the freshman prom with "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" blaring in the gym (how apt). Or maybe it was "More Than Words" by those gay Nelson brothers... both tracks were big that year.

Le sigh.

I don't intend for this to be a personal venue for my wacky hijinks with the fairer sex. But c'est la vie. I'm just more than a bit frustrated at the moment because I don't know where I stand... I have a target and I'm prosecuting that target to the best of my ability and in the most responsible, mature Christian-guy way possible until I'm either foiled, successful or dead.

Feelings Unexpressed

I have tried to organize what few blogs I follow anymore with Google Reader so all the new posts just show up in abbreviated form on my ever handy Google homepage. It is really useful and helps me to keep track of the lives of the few friends that regularly blog (A-hem, you know who you are). But when I am scanning, I frequently mistake an entry from one of my friends with the blog of Shane Nickerson, seeming actor and link off of Wil Wheaton. It usually takes me a few seconds to realize in my confused state that no, Nickie really isn't dropping the 'F' bomb in her post... that would be a tad out-of-character.

But this is the point that I am trying to drive at; he (Nickerson) wrote something so beautiful and direct. It's one of the many times that I read something and whole-heartedly relate to and wonder if someone has not been inside my head. "I could have written that, but now I can't because that would be intellectual poaching and just... lame." So my duty then is to point it out and say what a wonderful spot of writing it is. Which it is.

Grandma

Every once-in-a-while God reminds us that we are not the centre of our own mini-universe by pulling out the rug beneath our feet. The past few days, I've been on that high (planning coffee with a gorgeous Christian girl will do that to me) and just starting to notice it. And God decided to reset things a tad this morning when I received a call and e-mail from my Mum explaining that my Grandmother (my Dad's Mum) is going to have her leg amputated because of gangrene in the toes.

We knew this was coming and my Grandma seems 'OK' with it. She is eighty and when I visited her in July (photo) she seemed so unimaginably frail and somewhat Hobbit-like. I felt as if I would break her by putting my arm around her.

This is a good thing, really. When the gaze wanders from Jesus and other people to yourself and your own petty concerns it needs to be 'reset'. As if God has a universe-encompassing Etch-A-Sketch and just shakes it to erase the image to start something better.

So, reset. And where is my bible? 

Seriously Jonesin'

As a general rule, I do not much care for sweets.

But the past few days I have been craving a Cadbury Creme Egg, original preferably but exceptions could be made for the caramel variety.

I MUST HAVE ONE! NOW!!

Seasonal treats be damned! I would move Heaven and Earth for Easter!

Digits

Mike: So how long do I wait to call?
Trent: A day.
Mike: Tomorrow.
Sue: Tomorrow, then a day.
Trent: Yeah.
Mike: So two days?
Trent: Yeah, I guess you could call it that, two days.
Sue: Definitely, two days is like industry standard.
Trent: You know I used to wait two days to call anybody, but now it's like everyone in town waits two days. So I think three days is kind of money. What do you think?
Sue: Yeah, but two's enough not to look anxious.
Trent: But I think three days is kind of money. You know because you...
Mike: Yeah, but you know what, mabey I'll wait 3 weeks. How's that? And tell her I was cleaning out my wallet and I just happened to run into her number.
Charles: Then ask her where you met her.
Mike: Yeah, I'll ask her where I met her. I don't remember. What does she look like? And then I'll asked if we fucked. Is that... would that be... T, would that be the money?
Trent: You know what. Ha ha ha Mike, laugh all you want but if you call too soon you might scare off a nice baby who's ready to party.
Mike: Well how long are you guys gonna wait to call your babies?
Trent, Sue: Six days.

I have a habit of referencing odd things. So unless one was raised on a steady and robust diet of Star Trek, an odd collections of films, music and British humour, you will undoubtedly think me a tad off kilter if you were to hang around long enough.

Yesterday evening had a bright little spot to it which I instantly referenced to one of my favourite films 'Swingers'. The main character of 'Mike' is very much me at a certain point. I'll of course elaborate more if/when anything comes of it after the industry standard two days.

Something Unexpected

I received an e-mail yesterday from someone that I did not expect.

It was from Her.

We were engaged, a five year relationship from the dark, distant past. Six years is an awfully long time to be silent. And for a few minutes of my typical verbal introspective, I actually had in mind my response to her, as I mentally prepare all written expression long before I actually put fingers to keyboard.

But no. I just can't do it.

She is from my past and needs to stay there, it took me long enough to deal with what happened in my mind and that little genie is not coming out of that bottle. This girl in her leaving had a starring role in the so far pivotal drama of my life. The part of urban Tokyo played by yours truly while She helmed the role of Godzilla with great aplomb.

Curiosity does tempt me though... what if in six long years she has changed? That she has abandoned her former self-centered ways or even if she has been saved? What then? Questions to toy with in my mind.

What concerns me perhaps even more is that she was able to locate me (even if it was only my e-mail address). I value my anonymity highly, I cherish it. And I do not like it intruded upon save for what I chose to disclose and to whom. (The internet notwithstanding, no one reads any of this.)

Go back to the shadows Aimee.

Matthew

Matthew 9

18 While he was saying this, a synagogue leader came and knelt before him and said, "My daughter has just died. But come and put your hand on her, and she will live." 19 Jesus got up and went with him, and so did his disciples.
20 Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. 21 She said to herself, "If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed."
22 Jesus turned and saw her. "Take heart, daughter," he said, "your faith has healed you." And the woman was healed from that moment.

&

27 As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him, calling out, "Have mercy on us, Son of David!"
28 When he had gone indoors, the blind men came to him, and he asked them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" "Yes, Lord," they replied.
29 Then he touched their eyes and said, "According to your faith let it be done to you"; 30 and their sight was restored. Jesus warned them sternly, "See that no one knows about this." 31 But they went out and spread the news about him all over that region.

I was grazing through Matthew last night and had one of those "duh" moments. As if "figuring out" something incredibly plain and simple for the first time. A minor epiphany if you will. I recently finished reading John MacArthur's 'Twelve Ordinary Men' ; a brief little rundown of the apostles (more on this later). So I have been more focused on the Twelve than well, I ever have been. Which led me to the book of Matthew. My minor epiphany was that Jesus didn't traipse around healing people, raising the dead, and performing other miracles just because He could; just because He was God and had that sort of power. It wasn't just carnival tricks to visibly back up His statements of divinity... He was not a performer. See Matt. 9:30 where He actually tells those He has healed not to go out and blab it all over the place lest the masses mistake Him for a 'miracle factory'.

He healed those that had faith and cried out.

He didn't even have to be there to place His hands on the person (Matt. 8:5-13) but by faith alone it was done.

I am just so awestruck by this. Such earnest and whole-hearted displays of faith in Jesus are utterly fantastic and humbling.

Tract Boy

I saw her there, walking on the street I said "Excuse me,
there's someone you ought to meet" you ought to meet She came up to me, "Whatcha have to say?" I said "Jesus" and she turned and walked away She walked away and she said "no" "and I don't even want to know" "and I don't even want to know" "and I don't even want to know"

A certain corner has been turned, one that has run me smack-dab into a particular moniker of evangelical Christianity; Jesus Freak. With the tenth anniversary EXTRAVEGANZA of Mars Hill, attractive postcards were passed out to serve as invitations to the church and the new sermon series 'Vintage Jesus'. Sort of a primer for those who haven't heard about the fellow.

Side note: I saw a bumpersticker the other day which read; "I found Jesus! He was behind the couch the entire time!" This sounds hilarious as my inner monologue bounces it around the interior of my skull.

My building has the requisite community cork board to which is normally attached advertisements for events such as '5k run/walk to support gay, homeless former circus ponies who are traumatized by the colour lavender' and the sort of high-minded 'art' shows to appeal to those who stare at human excrement and seek to discern what 'truths' they may extract from the experience. So I deemed it the ideal place to advertise the church and the Jesus fellow. This idea (I reckoned) was the aces!, the absolute aces! As it was obviously a very loving, open and accommodating sort of venue.

Not eight hours since I pinned it oh so attractively on said cork board was it altered. Not removed, defaced or otherwise sullied but simply turned around so as to show it's rather blank, un-informative rather useless side.

Harumph. I said when I spotted this.

Harumph indeed.

So, I made the leadership decision to turn it back round again to showcase the aforementioned loving Jesus, loving people sort of glory. In what may turn out to be the opening shots of an all-out community cork board war. It is not as if I had posted something saying "Gay? Well, Jesus says you're going to Hell then!" sort of flotsam. It was merely an invitation to learn, to get a taste of something that perhaps the mainly young, hip denizens of my building have not been exposed to. The wording was not dissimilar to a craigslist posting (save those under the 'random encounters' heading). So my impression of someone that would do this sort of thing is that of a somewhat troubled, perhaps misinformed sort of miscreant with a chip on the shoulder about Christianity. And as far as a possible 'war' of ideas being waged....

Bring it.

I've been reading my Bible well enough, delved into a little Van Til and have a heckava' bar set by Driscoll. I am still a new-born calf of Christ but nevertheless I will kick your ass in a loving Christian sort of way.

In Jesus' name.

Soundtrack of the Week

I want to gush.

This past week, I've had basically five albums on heavy rotation:

Evanescence 'The Open Door'
The Killers 'Sam's Town'
The Weepies 'Say I Am You'
Lily Allen 'Smile, Pt. 2'
Persephone's Bees 'Notes From The Underworld'

Heavily commercial and a tad over-produced to nearly the polar opposite. I almost wish that I was blind so that I could more fully appreciate music. 

On The Fairer Side Of The Border?

Thank God Tie Domi just retired because I would have had a very difficult time cheering for him on the ice now that he has proven himself to be a First-Class putz. And as far as Liberal MP Belinda Stronach is concerned... it would seem that liberals on both sides of the border are pretty much the same. And this 'woman' expects to be PM someday?

Perhaps I speak a bit flippantly of political colours and moral fibre considering the RNC's latest exercise in disaster management; former Rep. Mark Foley. At least he had the good sense to resign immediately even if he had the worst possible sense in doing some very messed up things.

Mars Hill

Lately, I can't seem to go a week without tripping over either a news story or theology paper about 'My' church. Fortunately it is more often than not complimentary like this most recent one; http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/287214_marshill02.html?source=mypi

And generally I have found that when other pastors comment on Mark Driscoll they tend to chide him for his sternness and refer to him as "the cussing pastor". This amuses me greatly because firstly, I really wish he would cuss more because he is right with his saying of "Soft words produce hard people and hard words produce soft people" and secondly, if I had that pulpit to speak from you would be hearing quite a bit more "cussing" to the masses. Which is probably a very good reason why I am not in that position...

The Power Of Moonlight

I made a spur of the moment trip to Tower Records the other day to pick up some new (to me at least) music, specifically Moby's 'Hotel' and some Tiger Army. But the best thing happened at the checkout counter when a very "too cool for work" rocker girl took notice of my unusual surname from my debit card.

Rocker Girl: "You know, there is an awesome Black Metal band that goes by your name."
Me: "Yes! I know, and they are Norwegian!"

This was really the extent of the conversation but for that brief, shining nanosecond, I was 'cool' and connected on some level with this denim vest wearing girl that could have probably kicked my ass and make a sailor blush at the drop of the hat.

Is that missional living?

Kroger subsidiary Quality Food Centres, The Bestest Place to Work!

I love my job. Not just 'love' as the word is used in the boring, domestic sense but loooovvve it as in the NC-17 sense of the word. This is a place where the values of Honesty, Integrity, Respect for Others, Diversity, Safety, and Inclusion aren't just feel good buzzwords used to convey a glossed over sense of reality but are real and are found in practice each and every day in the hallowed halls of this great organization.

Have I mentioned that someone at Kroger GO or a bot for said parent company checks on this modest blog? Also my MySpace page, because I do happen to list either 'QFC' or 'Kroger' in both places... just putting that out there.

Again, I love my job. Just putting that out there.

That little white box

So.. I finally gave in and updated iTunes to version 7. I was more than a wee bit hesitant after reading Wil's horror story concerning his legally purchased DRM laden music (notice that? I mentioned Wil Freakin' Wheaton casually like we actually know each other). But I considered the risk slight since I have so few Music Store purchases. I have yet to really embrace the new music model of simply buying individual tracks and I happen to like having the full artist's work (album art, etc.) tangibly in my sweet little hands, and able to do anything I want with the files.

But update I did. And it's awfully pretty.

It was all in an attempt to fix my broken little iPod 512mb Shuffle which has served me faithfully for the last one? two years? But the attempt failed with the little flash memory unable to clear tracks I had previously updated it with. C'est la vie. I ended up discovering that all that uber cool Apple marketing with shadows dancing around at the commands of the little white box was well, kindof true. The Shuffle was to digital media what marijuana is to social ills; a gateway and this latest episode merely places a higher importance on the Shuffle's replacement. Probably a Creative Zen V or V Plus in 4 GB, which is cheaper than a comparable Nano, lets me use some of the subscription services (Napster, and yes, I don't own the music there either) and features a direct line-in recording capability which I think is rather nice.

Say what you will of fashion accessories and the disadvantages of DRM, Apple is still King Of The Hill when it comes to any sort of digital player or online music store. It will be interesting how Microsoft's new Zune with WiFi could change that. Wait and see.

Le Sigh

The jig is up.

The Girl was just recently spotted with an older and very scruffy looking gent on a lovely Seattle evening. The two were most definitely not going up to her flat to bake cookies... no, I should think not.

Time to look for another black cat with white paint.

Le sigh...

Onward, Christian Soldiers

I intended this Blogger page to be an expression of my "quirky, off-beat, sensitive side" conjuring images of The Beave as he muddles his well-intentioned, simplistic way through life. I would love to write the occasional post about some serious matter such as theology or politics but feel that I am not entirely gifted in the art of reasoned, intellectual writing to really give that sort of thing due justice.

But there is an issue that I would like to point to and that, generally speaking is the fact of declining birthrates in the Western world. Pat Buchanan wrote about this (somewhat poorly) in "The Death Of The West" and I just came across this article that speaks to it in words that I could never find to equal.

My two cents: think, vote, love God and have lots and lots of babies that do the same. Please. Because this issue scares the Hell out of me.

Alethia - The Last Unicorn of a girl, or 101 Ways to look like a stalker

I've always had what I consider to be a healthy interest in girls. This has ranged from a purely 'continuation of the species' way (which has led to some awfully bad situations) to the sort of interest that one usually invests in wine or some other complex thing.
The idealized woman is beautiful in all the ways that man is not. I could expound on the Adam-Eve relationship or a 'Proverbs 31 woman' at this point but won't. A woman that realizes the effect she has on men is a dangerous thing but perhaps a fruit of feminism is that women tend to see themselves and aspire to be merely men with different plumbing. But a woman that realizes what she is and doesn't shy away from it (while also not using it as a means of influence) is a thing of utmost and indescribable beauty. She is marked by a manner of speaking that is not coarse, of dress that accentuates but is not scandalous, and a poise that endows her to be floating through this world.
It is a woman of this latter type that I've come across. Her name, she informed me in a precise, almost English way is 'Alethia'; a slim bespecled redhead that I met in the lift of my building. I chatted away with her like a chipmunk on speed as we waited for our respective floors and I learned quite a bit about her in that brief minutes' time. And in that time when the borders of my vision were all fuzzy as if in a stylized dream sequence, I neglected to ask her to coffee. Since then I have devoted significant deliberate thought in diving exactly how to 'casually' intercept her again. This has proven to be exceedingly difficult and frustrating considering that she lives but two floors above me. The fifth floor has become a sort of hallowed ground in my mind and I toy with the desperate option of simply knocking on each and every door on the floor to locate and proposition her. ( there are only ten apartments so I consider my odds rather good.)
Just where is that fine line that separates a well-intentioned, smitten fellow from a stalker? All this is probably for naught anyway; there are more dogs than Christians in this city but the improbable chances coming together would certainly go far in the divine hand thinking.

"Now the purpose of the commandment is love from a pure heart, from a good conscience, and from sincere faith."

The marine air rolls into my windows from Elliott Bay with increasing regularity now. As the calendar (although not quite the low ‘80’s daily highs) heralds the ending of Summer, I look forward to Fall as most ‘normal’ people seem to dread it. With thoughts of hockey games and the comforting envelopness of sweaters, my peacoat(!) and anything at all made of wool fills me with giddy expectedness.

On Mars Hill:

I just finished reading my pastor’s newest book ‘Confessions of a Reformission Rev.: Hard lessons from an emerging missional church.’ I finally picked it up after my friend Amanda generously loaned it to me just yesterday and since my Sunday has been spent doing laundry and recovering from the previous day’s Endfest 15 festivities and sunburn; and not going to church like a good boy, I felt it proper that I should at least spend a good part of the day studying and reflecting.
Mark’s book is focused on the mechanics of the growth of the church to its current 4,000 member level. and looking ahead to the 10,000 mark. My immediate question after finishing it is to wonder where I might fit in the continued growth. This question is rather timely as in the last month or so I’ve been wrestling with a few issues that have caused me to back off a bit on my commitment to Mars Hill. These issues are, in brief; 1. My continued struggles with ‘singleness’ that falls into both idolatry of marriage and sexual sin. 2. My hesitation with being baptized in the church and 3. The issue of ‘glossolalia’ or ‘xenoglossolalia’.
A little personal history. I was not raised in the church, faith was sporadically introduced to me growing up until my ‘conversion experience’ at twenty-two after which I was hardheaded enough not to come to terms with it for another seven years. Near the end of this term I attended several liberal Presbyterian churches, encountering some aspects that I dearly loved but never feeling that it was a place that I ‘belonged’. Until I stumbled across Mars Hill. Although it is many things that I always avoided (Mega church, non-traditional worship) it is everything that I believe that I need (biblical teaching, reinforcement of gender roles, accountability and Man’s general ‘suckiness’). For the first time and continually in my year of attendance, it has been a place where I’ve grown beyond measure in my ‘walk with the Lord’ and have even learned how to talk like an evangelical and mention Jesus in casual conversation.
The situation is thus: the church is large and continues to grow, calling for more involvement from it’s members to succeed and yet because of some (hopefully) minor theological issues and dealing with my own sin I feel unprepared and not wholly worthy to assume the role that seems to be needed and heed the call that I believe that I hear. Additionally with my having been pushed into the deep-end of the pool of apologetics I also find myself somewhat out of sync with those that I would prefer to help in carrying the load. Disagreeing with church leadership and with people that so obviously have a love for Jesus deeply troubles me. I have no wish to be decisive but whether I state it or not a wedge has been planted. Hopefully only a temporary one and the question still remains; “Where do I fit in as the continued growth of Mars Hill and glorification of Jesus and the Gospel in Seattle is concerned?”

Geek

"Ride now...ride now..ride. Ride for ruin and the world's ending."

To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?

Rohirrim
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I never pass up an opportunity to geek out, especially if it's to Tolkein.

The Ever Changing Continuity of Things

Our small and modest (i.e. ghetto) office is having a bit of turnover at the moment; some have left/leaving whilst new positions are being added. But it is rather comforting to have the replacment for Debra, our dispatcher/phone person (and one that very much reminds me of my mother) be apparently so much like her. The comfort lies in the click-clack of high-heeled shoes upon tile and a general mode of dress that signify that this woman is comfortable with 'not lifting the heavy loads' running contrary to the concept that is so in vogue these days with women. I'd like to know at what point the 'Modern Woman' fully accepted the mindset that to be a 'Strong Woman' she had to become a man and do 'manly' things. It would be all too easy to wag my accusatory finger at the recent history of radical leftist feminism but perhaps the movement to 'de-feminize' has been not merely a 'push' or 'advancement' but rather a response to a 'lack' or deficency in the traditional male role. (i.e. Man has abandoned certain essential duties/roles leaving Woman to pick up the slack and hence become The Man.) Perhaps the issue of divorce/single parent families would be a good example of this. I'm clueless as to what the root cause of such a dramatic shift in culture would by chance be but I'm sure someone needs Jesus somewhere in it all.

EndFest 15

What does a little girl see when she stares at an empty stage? 

Frustration

The week has started on a note that makes me of the opinion that "bullet in the head" sounds like a relaxing course of action. I wouldn't recommend leaving for work on a Monday morning and finding your car towed for being illegally parked. And the rest of the day followed that pattern to the point that I expected to show up to work and my job not be there or have a family member die. Neither of which has happened... yet.

And now, just for the hell of it, I think I will devote any spare time to looking around for a new job. I like my job except when it comes to dealing with my 'internal customers' at the store level who fall into two general categories; firstly, those that only work at your neighborhood supermarket* (Quality Food Centres) because they are somewhat unqualified for more 'dynamic' employment at the McDonald's next door and secondly, those store managers that have their little hearts set on becoming a VP someday and are very focused on trying to catch the eye of those higher on the food chain than themselves.

Having individuals from either of these groups then go so far as to helpfully 'suggest' how I may better serve them as the A+ numba' One person that they are wears painfully upon my patience and eventually my sanity.

'Nuff said. Venting is done.

Love: Music

I was listening to this playlist and realized just how music can transport one to a particular place/time/mood. It's like one of those "soundtrack of our lives" moments, and I'm somewhat bemused to think it's all British music. Just another reason for my 'American card' to be revoked... That is all.

http://www.napster.com/nweb/features/playlist/playlist.html?mix_pl=MIX_66746

Love: Family

Just for the record, I have some freakin' awesome uncles. 

Hate: The Universe

Work is putting me in a decidedly sour, foul, toxic mood as of late. I want to kill something. (No, I'm not homocidal). I need that cathartic release that comes from discharging firearms, blowing stuff up or a resonable pixilated simulation of like activities. Thank God for my upcoming mini-holiday.

Love: Hockey

Well, they've done it. My team in the West, the Edmonton Oilers managed to force a game 7 only to lose it. While they weren't likely to win a game seven not on home ice (something like 11 of 19 game 7's have been won by the team with home ice advantage) stll, it peppers my day with apathy. I should just start pulling for the team I don't want to win, maybe that would psyche out the Hockey Gods.

Coffee: Better Living Through Chemistry

The first cup of coffee in the morning is like a cup of liquid sunshine, all the others following are just trying to capture that one perfect moment again.

Love: Hockey (continued)

WHAT?! They fire Pat Quinn?! ARE YOU HIGH?

http://www.cbc.ca/story/sports/national/2006/04/20/Sports/quinn-leafs060420.html?ref=rss

First bringing on that yutz Lindros, then letting Eddie Belfour go, and now THIS?! The Organization is obviously passing a HUGE doobie around the conference table today. Idiots.

Love: Hockey

Within the space of half an hour Saturday evening my emotions went from hopefully optimistic to being robbed of that. I speak of The Toronto Maple Leaf's domination of the constant spoilers Buffalo Sabres. With their 5-1 win over the Sabres, the Leafs were to hold on to the hope of reaching the playoffs. But alas, with Tampa Bay coming out ahead of Carolina in overtime (with Martin St. Louis scoring splendidly) they effectively decided the issue for the Leafs by bumping them out of contention.
I love the Leafs. They are my team. They are so because after they forget how to play hockey sometime around December each year, they come back in with such an earnest desperation that you can't help but root for them. It is when injuries take out the big names like Sundin and everyone else is bruised, battered, stitched and bleeding that they truly shine on the ice. It is when I see (former Leaf) Gary Roberts playing with his face cut up and bruised like he was just run over by a bus and still out on the ice making things happen, Tie Domi and Darcy Tucker doing the same.
At least in the West, the Edmonton Oilers made it in. I'll have someone to root for for about five minutes before they get eliminated too.