“My church is for people who grew up wishing they believed in an afterlife, who wanna be so close to God that you could reach over and make out with him”
Today’s entry could be called “The day where Kim get’s out of her theological depth,” but when I heard this line in Watsky’s poem, it meant nothing to me. In fact, I was a little offended at the implication that one would “make out with” God. It seems so vulgar, so human, and so wrong to even imply such a thing. But the more I’ve thought about it the more I’ve realized that this line has conversational implication past shock value. When the line is taken apart, it’s saying something that I really agree with.
I heard a sermon this weekend about how lucky we all are that God decided that we were worth it, and promised us heaven some day. While I had no problem with that, it did get me thinking. I believe that the modern church might be putting too much emphasis on some day, and not thinking nearly enough about the now. I think that some days, that promise of heaven is both the biggest asset and the biggest stumbling block of our faith community.
I think that promise of heaven creates “investment banker Christians” those of us that want to do “just enough” to get in. We tithe exactly our 10%. We show up when we’re supposed to, we do and say the right things, hoping to some day have invested enough to make the cut. I don’t think that’s what we’re called for, but having taught for a few months now, I do realize that there’s a difference between someone who’s working for a pay off, and someone who’s working for the love of the job. I will always prefer the second type of students, and I think God prefers the second type of followers. I think the modern church needs to stop posting Heaven as a bribe.
I also think we need to stop using it as a deterrent. I have a friend (who reads this blog, and might recognize themselves in a moment) who says, he doesn’t mind Christians, and thinks they stuff they do is for the most part well intentioned. He even believes there is a God, but just can’t bring himself to believe that there’s any life after this one. It isn’t that he believes in reincarnation. He just thinks you get one shot at life, and you should do with it all that you can. During one late night talk, he said, “I could be a Christian. I think Jesus probably was the son of God, and the ultimate sacrifice, I just can’t quite believe that when we die our spirits leave our bodies and travel to some place in the sky, with things as concrete as houses and streets. That just doesn’t make sense to me.” He has gone to different services, and different denominations, and while he can fit right in, that lasts about as long as the topic of heaven can be avoided. Eventually, it always rises to the surface, and is followed by a time of being ostracized for being some how LESS of a Christian. And so he considers himself a rouge believer, someone forced to be outside of the church and the faith community because he just can’t get on board with one of the major core-beliefs. I guess I’d prefer a church with doors that open a little wider than that.
And then we get to the shock line. “Who want to be so close to God they can reach over and make out with him.” But once the shock wears off, what’s it actually saying? Working with Jr. Highers and High Schoolers this summer, I’ve noticed something. Flirting is work. Being in a new relationship is work. Heck, being in an old relationship is work. You have to find time for this person, compliment this person, learn about this person, and invest in this person. It’s a TON of work, but we’re happy to do it. Down right giddy to do it. It seems to me that churches frequently encourage parishioners to treat God like a guy they met on an online dating service. “When you have time, try to shoot him a few lines.” Or “As long as you’re still getting in a good chat session once or twice a week- you’re relationship is probably good.” It occurred to me that when I look at how much time I spend thinking about my human relationships and caring for or investing in the people in my life, in comparison to how much time I spend with my Creator- my priorities are out of whack.
Now I don’t think God needs us to flirt with him. After all, he is the creator and perfect-er of love, and has been ready to be in a relationship with us since the beginning of time. But free will means the relationship can’t be forced, we have to want him back. So yea, maybe we need to flirt with God, not for him… for us.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Last night I drunk texted God...
One of the last things I did before leaving South Dakota was to teach a unit on poetry. In my quest to find some unorthodox poets I stumbled upon 21 year old, George Watsky. This skinny, falsetto voiced, white kid does slam poetry praising virginity, declaring what he would do as president, bemoaning speaking on the phone with girls, and does it all with an ever-present biting humor. But the piece that made me laugh the most, and think the most, was one called “Drunk Text to God”. In it, Watsky declares that he’s “stalking a church” (he means starting, because “come on, no one spells drunk texts right”) and then goes on to discuss what his church would be like. While some of it is just silly, some lines have haunted my thoughts since I heard it. One of the things that’s been on my mind lately, (which is no surprise as I come back to the land of a thousand churches) is this idea that we’ve been defining “church” in a pretty homogeneous way for a really long time. No where is this as apparent as sitting in Kresge Hall in Metro UMC, a church that has been standing in the same place for 90 years. So I thought maybe I’d take a page out of George Watsky’s book, and spend part of my summer thinking about how I would change things if I were stalking a church?
“Last night, I drunk texted God, I just wanted him to know I’d been thinking about him..”
“Last night, I drunk texted God, I just wanted him to know I’d been thinking about him..”
Monday, May 17, 2010
Better late than never?
So since beginning reading this book, one of the things it has delighted me to see author struggle with has been this idea of prayer. Early on, he gets stuck, because “If I’m going to play Christian, I know that prayer is something I have to do. But, as an agnostic, I can’t get over the feeling that I’m talking to the ceiling, or worse yet, I’ve finally lost it and I’m talking to myself.”
I found myself thinking more about prayer as I know or understand it. So I took it back to the masses, and for two days my facebook status was a question, “What is prayer to you? Why do people do it? Is there a right or wrong way to do it?” And while there were some people I urged to answer the question, I was none-the-less impressed at who turned up to give an answer. I had a couple pastors take the question on, a handful of seminary candidates and students, some friends from church, some friends from school, and even a couple of my agnostic and atheist friends took it on. People who didn’t feel comfortable, didn’t post to my wall, they messaged me.
I was surprised to find that the people in my life that I would consider devout, had much the same opinion as each other- even though they range from conservative Baptists (one of my friends feels that the only way to pray is face down kneeling, so as to get a small taste of the suffering of the disciples) to pretty liberal (like the friend who feels that anytime you think about God, you’re praying). All of them said in one way or another that prayer was about, “telling God that you love him, that you’re sorry for things you’ve done wrong, and that you’ll try to do better.” While some phrased it much more eloquently (that answer was given by an ex-camper of mine, a current 8th grader), the answer was a good summary of the language that some of the more sophisticated answers used. They said things like “it’s time to draw close to God” or “prayer is time to meditate your heart on things not of this world.” * The major theme they all seem to point to is that prayer is not about you, it’s about God. This is the Christian tenet of selflessness playing out through and through.
My non-religious friends (agnostics for the most part, with an occasional atheist for style points) took an entirely different tact. They responded with things like “prayer is the precipitate of protestant guilt” or “prayer is talking to yourself to make you feel better” or “prayer is a coping mechanism to help Christians deal with situations that are outside of their control, its what they do when casseroles aren’t helping.” Due to the fact that these respondents doubt the existence of a God, their perspectives on prayer all make it clear that it really is about the “pray-er” not the recipient.
So here’s where things get interesting. Flame me if you want to, but more and more I think our non-believing friends might be closer to the mark. The narrator starts his journey just trying to pray once a day. He recites scripture the way that a lot of us were raised praying “now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.” ** While he appreciates the beauty of the scripture, it doesn’t move him. It merely serves as a place holder. It is something to say when you don’t know what to say.
So after getting in this routine, he tries to go “off book.” Just pray. Just do it. Just talk to God. He finds that he can’t. In his head he’s balancing check books and making “to do” lists. He’s trying to remember to ask his wife about various concerns. He’s making a mental note to be stricter with his son. He’s every where but present. So he goes to the experts and one of them teaches him the acronym “ACTS.” Prayer should contain Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.
Instead of trying to get each one into every prayer he decides to focus on them one at a time starting with Thanksgiving. For that week he thanks God for everything, for his job, his wife, his son, his apartment, his family, etc. But then he gets to a meal time and he thanks God for the green beans, and then for the company that processed them to get rid of the rotten ones, the harvesters who plucked them from the ground, the rain and irrigation that had watered them, the soil they had grown in, the people who had weeded them, those who had planted them, the owners of the farm, the stock people, the packaging people, and even the worms. He says, “My wife was clearing her throat loudly, and often. My son had started eating already. But I realized suddenly how much time and effort had gone into getting that green bean on to my plate. I felt at the same time both very small in the course of human events, and also very connected to the world around me.”
One of the things that the narrator notices is that when he has to take time from his life to recite scripture, or pray for others, or give thanks, he becomes a more centered person. He becomes more aware of the small part he plays in the universe, and more empathetic to the suffering of others. He is both more conscious of what he says in prayer, and more aware of the things on which he chooses to give time to. The man becomes connected. Eventually, he goes from dreading sitting staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes, three times a day, to being in a place where he looks forward to and even longs for those quiet times. He needs to connect.
This is what I mean when I say that maybe the agnostics and atheists were more right than we give them credit for. Maybe prayer isn’t supposed to bend God’s Will to ours. It isn’t supposed to be a wish list, even a well intentioned wish list. It is instead supposed to change us. Maybe the commands to pray without ceasing, have little to do with God needing to be told that he’s the ruler of the universe and more to do with knowing that it’d be good for us to keep that at the forefront of our minds.
Maybe prayer isn’t about what you say.
It’s about what you hear.
Maybe it isn’t about you.
Maybe it’s about connecting.
*I really wish that the religious communities would stop talking in this fluff language, it makes it really hard to relate to us if you’re just peeking in on our lives. Say what you mean, don’t worry about the “prettiness” of it.
**I end it here because there are many ways for this to end. Some people say “if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Me? I was raised on “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Guard me, Jesus, through the night, and wake me with the morning light.”
I found myself thinking more about prayer as I know or understand it. So I took it back to the masses, and for two days my facebook status was a question, “What is prayer to you? Why do people do it? Is there a right or wrong way to do it?” And while there were some people I urged to answer the question, I was none-the-less impressed at who turned up to give an answer. I had a couple pastors take the question on, a handful of seminary candidates and students, some friends from church, some friends from school, and even a couple of my agnostic and atheist friends took it on. People who didn’t feel comfortable, didn’t post to my wall, they messaged me.
I was surprised to find that the people in my life that I would consider devout, had much the same opinion as each other- even though they range from conservative Baptists (one of my friends feels that the only way to pray is face down kneeling, so as to get a small taste of the suffering of the disciples) to pretty liberal (like the friend who feels that anytime you think about God, you’re praying). All of them said in one way or another that prayer was about, “telling God that you love him, that you’re sorry for things you’ve done wrong, and that you’ll try to do better.” While some phrased it much more eloquently (that answer was given by an ex-camper of mine, a current 8th grader), the answer was a good summary of the language that some of the more sophisticated answers used. They said things like “it’s time to draw close to God” or “prayer is time to meditate your heart on things not of this world.” * The major theme they all seem to point to is that prayer is not about you, it’s about God. This is the Christian tenet of selflessness playing out through and through.
My non-religious friends (agnostics for the most part, with an occasional atheist for style points) took an entirely different tact. They responded with things like “prayer is the precipitate of protestant guilt” or “prayer is talking to yourself to make you feel better” or “prayer is a coping mechanism to help Christians deal with situations that are outside of their control, its what they do when casseroles aren’t helping.” Due to the fact that these respondents doubt the existence of a God, their perspectives on prayer all make it clear that it really is about the “pray-er” not the recipient.
So here’s where things get interesting. Flame me if you want to, but more and more I think our non-believing friends might be closer to the mark. The narrator starts his journey just trying to pray once a day. He recites scripture the way that a lot of us were raised praying “now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.” ** While he appreciates the beauty of the scripture, it doesn’t move him. It merely serves as a place holder. It is something to say when you don’t know what to say.
So after getting in this routine, he tries to go “off book.” Just pray. Just do it. Just talk to God. He finds that he can’t. In his head he’s balancing check books and making “to do” lists. He’s trying to remember to ask his wife about various concerns. He’s making a mental note to be stricter with his son. He’s every where but present. So he goes to the experts and one of them teaches him the acronym “ACTS.” Prayer should contain Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.
Instead of trying to get each one into every prayer he decides to focus on them one at a time starting with Thanksgiving. For that week he thanks God for everything, for his job, his wife, his son, his apartment, his family, etc. But then he gets to a meal time and he thanks God for the green beans, and then for the company that processed them to get rid of the rotten ones, the harvesters who plucked them from the ground, the rain and irrigation that had watered them, the soil they had grown in, the people who had weeded them, those who had planted them, the owners of the farm, the stock people, the packaging people, and even the worms. He says, “My wife was clearing her throat loudly, and often. My son had started eating already. But I realized suddenly how much time and effort had gone into getting that green bean on to my plate. I felt at the same time both very small in the course of human events, and also very connected to the world around me.”
One of the things that the narrator notices is that when he has to take time from his life to recite scripture, or pray for others, or give thanks, he becomes a more centered person. He becomes more aware of the small part he plays in the universe, and more empathetic to the suffering of others. He is both more conscious of what he says in prayer, and more aware of the things on which he chooses to give time to. The man becomes connected. Eventually, he goes from dreading sitting staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes, three times a day, to being in a place where he looks forward to and even longs for those quiet times. He needs to connect.
This is what I mean when I say that maybe the agnostics and atheists were more right than we give them credit for. Maybe prayer isn’t supposed to bend God’s Will to ours. It isn’t supposed to be a wish list, even a well intentioned wish list. It is instead supposed to change us. Maybe the commands to pray without ceasing, have little to do with God needing to be told that he’s the ruler of the universe and more to do with knowing that it’d be good for us to keep that at the forefront of our minds.
Maybe prayer isn’t about what you say.
It’s about what you hear.
Maybe it isn’t about you.
Maybe it’s about connecting.
*I really wish that the religious communities would stop talking in this fluff language, it makes it really hard to relate to us if you’re just peeking in on our lives. Say what you mean, don’t worry about the “prettiness” of it.
**I end it here because there are many ways for this to end. Some people say “if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Me? I was raised on “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Guard me, Jesus, through the night, and wake me with the morning light.”
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Monsters.
Today, I realized what kind of monster hopelessness breeds.
We had a fire drill, and while trying to herd the students back inside I got lip back from one of the kids I've worked the hardest for and with. While already trying to figure out how to get through my 77 minute lesson in 40 minutes, I was stressed and when his friend yelled "hey, what's MY name?!" I said "go inside."
"I will, when you tell me what my name is."
and I snapped. And I told a student that I didn't care what his name was. And the second those words came flying out of my mouth I saw it. I saw that I had become the kind of teacher who I hate. I would have screamed if someone had talked to my student that way. I was embarrassed that I'd lost my temper. I felt bad that I had implied to that student that he was worth less than the students that are in my class every day.
So after he went in, and I went in, I hustled after him to apologize for the way I'd spoken to him outside. "You were being trying, but you didn't deserve to be talked to like that, because no one does. I'm sorry." I said. To which he replied, "Fuck you, dumb cunt" and walked away down the hall.
I felt bad.
I still feel bad.
I don't really know what else to do.
This is the monster that prolonged hopelessness creates-teachers who snap, and students who can't take an apology.
We had a fire drill, and while trying to herd the students back inside I got lip back from one of the kids I've worked the hardest for and with. While already trying to figure out how to get through my 77 minute lesson in 40 minutes, I was stressed and when his friend yelled "hey, what's MY name?!" I said "go inside."
"I will, when you tell me what my name is."
and I snapped. And I told a student that I didn't care what his name was. And the second those words came flying out of my mouth I saw it. I saw that I had become the kind of teacher who I hate. I would have screamed if someone had talked to my student that way. I was embarrassed that I'd lost my temper. I felt bad that I had implied to that student that he was worth less than the students that are in my class every day.
So after he went in, and I went in, I hustled after him to apologize for the way I'd spoken to him outside. "You were being trying, but you didn't deserve to be talked to like that, because no one does. I'm sorry." I said. To which he replied, "Fuck you, dumb cunt" and walked away down the hall.
I felt bad.
I still feel bad.
I don't really know what else to do.
This is the monster that prolonged hopelessness creates-teachers who snap, and students who can't take an apology.
Monday, April 26, 2010
As I mentioned in the last post, I've begun reading "The Year of Living Biblically." I have to say that I've been surprised by the book. I went into it fully believing that my personal beliefs were about to be trounced and mocked. I think that sometimes as Christians, we need that. We need to be presented with things that are very contrary to what we believe because I think it asks us to evaluate what we believe, and ultimately why we believe it.
This book surprised me. While being written by someone who has labeled themselves a "devout agnostic," it doesn't put Christians down. It doesn't cater to stereotypes, and in some cases it even breaks the stereotype. (In October the Narrator goes to the creationism museum where he encounters not intolerant rednecks, but people with Phds and intolerance for intolerance- it wasn't what he expected, but he was open to seeing it.) I like that the narrator, who for the purpose of this blog is Jacob, is committed to more than the motions. He doesn't just want to do the things the bible says, but also think the way it says to think. I like that he's all in, and I like that he's honest about the things that don't sit well with him and the things that he struggles with. I'd recommend this post to anyone who is... well actually to just about anyone. I'm into October and I've found it to be informative, humorous, and accessible. I feel like almost everyone will find something in it that rings true for them.
* End Shameless Plug*
This book surprised me. While being written by someone who has labeled themselves a "devout agnostic," it doesn't put Christians down. It doesn't cater to stereotypes, and in some cases it even breaks the stereotype. (In October the Narrator goes to the creationism museum where he encounters not intolerant rednecks, but people with Phds and intolerance for intolerance- it wasn't what he expected, but he was open to seeing it.) I like that the narrator, who for the purpose of this blog is Jacob, is committed to more than the motions. He doesn't just want to do the things the bible says, but also think the way it says to think. I like that he's all in, and I like that he's honest about the things that don't sit well with him and the things that he struggles with. I'd recommend this post to anyone who is... well actually to just about anyone. I'm into October and I've found it to be informative, humorous, and accessible. I feel like almost everyone will find something in it that rings true for them.
* End Shameless Plug*
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
I'm BAAAAACK!
So, this blog was infiltrated by one of the teachers at TC, who found it, and gave me a lot of grief about posting about my students' lives on here. So, before I continue, I should say a few things.
1. My life is weird. It is neither consistently good, nor consistently bad. It IS however consistently strange. I think most people's lives are if they looked at them closely.
2. Security features on the internet are great things, like that said teacher, can not see this post. I find this to be reassuring.
3. I will always protect the innocent or mostly innocent by changing names or not giving a name- so while most of the people who talk to me pretty consistently feel that they "know" my students. They do not actually KNOW my students.
Having said all that, I hope to post more often. I've begun reading "A Year of Living Biblically" which is not meant to be a devotional so much as it is meant to answer the question, "what if we took the entire bible literally? What if we did not allowed room for context, social pressures, or social norms? What would our lives look like then?" As someone who walks a precarious line between being devout and being loving, being faithful without being judgmental, and as someone who has memorized much, but not all of the Good Book, I'm interested to know how a literal translation would affect one's day to day life. I will post commentary here.
In addition to all of that- some life updates: had a migraine yesterday. It was the first time that I clearly remember seeing an aura. It was like there was a blurry spot growing towards the bottom of my field of vision in my right eye. I thought my contacts had stuff on them, but it wouldn't rub out. Then 30 minutes later, I was laying on the bathroom floor with my duvet, throwing up and praying for sleep to take me. Some days, I hate my body.
South Dakota's version of "spring" is rainy and windy. I am not impressed.
I think I want a bicycle.
Student loans are going to be the death of me.
1. My life is weird. It is neither consistently good, nor consistently bad. It IS however consistently strange. I think most people's lives are if they looked at them closely.
2. Security features on the internet are great things, like that said teacher, can not see this post. I find this to be reassuring.
3. I will always protect the innocent or mostly innocent by changing names or not giving a name- so while most of the people who talk to me pretty consistently feel that they "know" my students. They do not actually KNOW my students.
Having said all that, I hope to post more often. I've begun reading "A Year of Living Biblically" which is not meant to be a devotional so much as it is meant to answer the question, "what if we took the entire bible literally? What if we did not allowed room for context, social pressures, or social norms? What would our lives look like then?" As someone who walks a precarious line between being devout and being loving, being faithful without being judgmental, and as someone who has memorized much, but not all of the Good Book, I'm interested to know how a literal translation would affect one's day to day life. I will post commentary here.
In addition to all of that- some life updates: had a migraine yesterday. It was the first time that I clearly remember seeing an aura. It was like there was a blurry spot growing towards the bottom of my field of vision in my right eye. I thought my contacts had stuff on them, but it wouldn't rub out. Then 30 minutes later, I was laying on the bathroom floor with my duvet, throwing up and praying for sleep to take me. Some days, I hate my body.
South Dakota's version of "spring" is rainy and windy. I am not impressed.
I think I want a bicycle.
Student loans are going to be the death of me.
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