A stumbling block

What do you think it means to be a "stumbling block" to someone? And how far do we go in order not to be a stumbling block for another person? I mean, do we give up everything questionable, just in case someone has a problem with that certain action? You can't know someone has a problem with what you're doing unless they confront you on it. How can I be responsible for what people might possibly be thinking? If someone tells me they have a problem with what I am doing, and it is causing a spiritual roadblock for them, I will gladly stop for that person's sake, but am I to not do the thing just because it might be a spiritual roadblock to someone that hasn't told me it is?

I was pondering these things by the fireplace last night around 1:30am (I guess that would be this morning), and I couldn't come to a conclusion, except I think I disagree with Mr. Bedell. That kind of scares me, because he is a very wise man. Maybe I'm just rebellious.

Update on my life

My heart's not very pretty when it's naked.

I'm glad people still like me.

I'm glad Jesus liked me before I realized how my heart looks, and when he already did.

Got foreign countries on the brain...

I guess no one really wanted to talk about sex, judging from the response to my last blog :)

Oh well, different subject. Tonight I went to see the movie Memoirs of a Geisha. I guess that's partly why I say I got foreign countries on the brain. There's also this song by Fleming & John that I've been listening to that has quite an Indian flair. I know, different foreign countries and different cultures. There's so many places I want to go. And you can't extricate the people from the places, so I want to get involved in the lives of the people that live in those places too.

Maybe it all comes back to connecting. Maybe I just want to connect with the people and the environment and with God halfway around the world. I kind of like the sound of that. Anybody got free plane tickets??

What does sexuality mean?

Well, I had finally heard enough about Rob Bell and had some extra time on my hands, so I went looking to get my hands on one of his sermons. Today, I listened to a sermon in which he talked about what sexuality really is. He said it's more than the physical act that happens between a man and a woman. That I have no trouble wrapping my mind around, because obviously the mind the spirit/emotions and the body are all a part of sexuality. But Rob was saying that sexuality is us trying to get re-connected. At the fall we were dis-connected: from God, from other people, from our environment. The root word "sex" means to be disconnected/severed (ie: dissect, sector...), so that's what he bases the rest of what he says on. My spirit echoed a lot of what he was saying, about how we feel disconnected from people - I know my relationships are not ideal; they are not as full as they could be; we don't love perfectly. I definitely feel the disconnect from God. Rob talked about the end of Revelation where these three disconnects will be reconnected. It's a great passage (one of the last chapters), where it talks about the tree that heals the nations. I wish I was there.

I'm just interested to see what you guys think about this - if you've ever thought about sexuality in this way. You can also download the sermon if you go to the website for Mars Hill.

My home church is awesome

Every time I come home to my parent's house in PA, and I go to church, I am surprised at how emerging the church really is (and they don't even know it). Tonight was our Christmas Eve service. If I was at Gateway, it would probably have been much more professional and done-up (not that there's anything wrong with that). But here, at Cornerstone Community Church in Sellersville, PA, we kicked off the service with a ska song that was about the birth of Jesus Christ. It was great! Now, I'm not a terribly big ska fan. A lot of my friends said they went through a "ska phase" and now they're over it, but the fact of the matter is, it was played over the sound system at the beginning of a Christmas Eve service. Hooray for abnormality! (The service also closed with a country song...)

Anyways, I just appreciate the way that this church is unafraid to be different and to love whoever walks through the doors of this Methodist camp's cafeteria that we meet in. I appreciate the fact that I can get up on Sunday morning or whenever and suck at whatever I'm singing, and still get positive feedback from people because they heard the words, or they just appreciate someone having the guts to get up front and do that. Now, I don't ever intend to get up in front of people and totally suck at my songs, but it happens sometimes. Tonight we had crazy feedback in the monitors, and the service was a bit more unorganized than I am comfortable with, but in that environment, it didn't matter. People were there to be with other people and Jesus, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

I think that for all my critical eyeing of the way the church does things today, I might actually be becoming less judgmental. My goal is to become less concerned about what goes on, and more concerned about why it goes on. I think that's why some churches/church services rile me up so much, because I think that their motives are wrong, or misguided. And some things about churches/church services that rile other people up don't really bother me, because I think the heart behind it or the reason it's being done is good.

Well, I'm going to bed. Tonight was a night full of thinking, and tomorrow is the celebration of Jesus' birthday, so I should get some rest for that. I kind of wish I could get away for a while with Jesus, but I'm not sure how that would happen...

Merry Christmas

Back to the old self

Everytime I go home it happens: I relax.

This is both good and bad. Good, because I really just am myself; nothing is really held back (although that is even changing now; I think I am more myself in different ways around other people). And it's bad, because myself isn't always the best person for me to be. Let me explain. Myself is selfish and anal retentive and bossy, and my brothers just seem to bring out these fine qualities in me. For instance, last night we were trying to put together a song for Sunday (all of my family will be taking part in this song; the Von Ferrins, as it were). I was so rude to my brothers because they wouldn't let me figure out the chords (we were starting from scratch, so we had no chords to work with yet). I mean, there's got to be a place for being annoyed with little siblings, because you can all attest (well, most of you) to how annoying little siblings can be, but there's got to be a place you get to where you don't let all of that annoyance show. I haven't figured it out yet. So, last night, I would say I reverted back to my old self. People in Columbia don't usually see this side of me, because I'm not around people who annoy me this much. (Now I need to say this: I love my brothers, so don't take this the wrong way. This rant is more about my attitude than what they are doing.)

This is just an ongoing struggle that crops up pretty much every time I go home. Argh!

Rules Poem

This poem has five rules:
(I like having a box, because then you have something to think outside of)

1. The poem must have eight lines
2. The lines must have eight syllables/six syllables every other line
3. It must be melancholy in nature
4. It must contain the word "pink"
5. It must be told from the first person point-of-view

I met a man who saw just blue
His sad and worried face
Revealed the years marked by that hue
He sang me a lament

He sang to me, “She saw just pink”
Complete but not for long
Her last note left in purple ink
He sang me a lament

Where's Jesus?

No, this is not a rampage against the materialistic evils of America at Christmastime. I just want to write about my dream.

Last night I dreamt that I was at a conference. I was going to seminars, meeting people, and making friends with the gas station attendant (she hated my guts to begin with).

Well, we had a central location at a cabin in the woods (I guess this was all at a retreat center and the surrounding few miles). Jesus was with us. I don't remember what he looked like, or that there was anything particularly wierd about him being with us. But we all remembered him leaving.

We were going back to the cabin one day, running. When we got there, I kind of ran ahead of everyone through the house. I was looking for Jesus, because I just had this premonition that he was gone. Sure enough, I couldn't find him, so when I got back to the others I said, "Where's Jesus?"

Then someone pointed at me and said, "There he is."

Profound. Sometimes my dreams hold simple and great spiritual truths (sometimes my dreams are just retarded and they don't make any sense). Jesus is only kind of gone. I see him in you, and hopefully you see him in me.

Re-incarnation

You Were a Giraffe

You are a high achiever - able to reach things others can't.A great communicator, you are good at getting past superficialities.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

A storybook evening

Last night I went exploring with a friend. We traipsed through the woods behind my house and talked about how fairies and gnomes lived in the ivy that carpeted the ground and the dry fallen trees the we walked across. Then, we walked across the street to the old folks' facility. We had the place to ourselves (outside), so we stood looking at a willow tree reminiscing about our childhoods and wishing that the tendrils of the tree came down to the ground, so we could hide in them. Our travels led us around the backside of the facility, and we walked next door to the medical facilities lane. After scrambling over gigantic rocks, and gazing at Orion, we came across a residential area, and sat down beside a picturesque pond. We had to duck down when a plane flew overhead, lest it see us, and be made aware of our presence on a strangers' lawn. We talked and laughed and wished we had a little boat. Finally, I said something too loud, and the dog across the pond started barking. We stood up and ran back down the road we had come from, simply for the thrill of pretending like we were running away.

I felt like a kid, but an adult-kid. Now I can appreciate being a kid. Thanks, Ian, for bringing out the kid in me.