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?