In Other News
Mar 30th, 2007 by Sonja

There is a Secret being told around town and around the country … here’s a brief synopsis:

“And this is really fun,” says Joe Vitale. “This is like having the universe as your catalog and you flip through it and you go, ‘Well, I’d like to have this experience, and I’d like to have that product and I’d like to have a person like that.’ It is you just placing your order with the universe. It is really just that easy.”

Huh? Well, instead of sending all our money and great ideas to the people dying of hunger and disease in Africa and Asia, we’ll just send copies of this book and tell them to imagine themselves well. I guess that’s what’s been wrong all this time. They don’t have very good imaginations. They don’t know how to think hard enough about good clean water and nourishing food. Because it really is just that easy. Mr. Vitale said so.

Can This Be Real?
Mar 30th, 2007 by Sonja

BlazingEwe’s brother died last night.

He lay down and … just … died.

Thirty-seven year old brothers are not supposed to die.

If they do, we should be able to know how or why. There should be a car accident. Or hunting incident. They don’t lie down on the living room floor and die.

My best friend and I are waiting for that phone call to tell us that this is all a joke. A sick joke, but a joke, nonetheless. This isn’t real. Younger brothers don’t die first. They still have all that uncle-ing to do. And they still have to be a brother as your parents get old. And now who will she make jokes with about dad getting crotchety and mom getting silly? Who will help her remember the pecan tree in the front yard? And picking up sticks in the back yard?

Someone please call and tell her that they made a mistake.

UPDATE:  The phone call came.  There is no mistake.  But now there is a reason.  He died of a massive heart attack.  How does a 37 year old man die of a massive heart attack?  There is barely any solace here.

If Wishes Were Horses …
Mar 29th, 2007 by Sonja

… beggars would ride.

My grandmother used to look at me rather sternly and repeat that phrase when I was wishing for things a little too often. I know some children heard, “Stop wishing your life away.” I didn’t hear that one til I grew up. It took me a long time to figure my grandmother out.

When I was young we were expected to figure those things out on our own. When I hand obscure bits of wisdom to my children they do not hesitate to ask for clarification. They do not care to think for themselves. Lazy. 😉

Sway-backed nagI was thinking about that saying this morning for a while. I’ve always stopped on that one and pondered. Thought about being a beggar and wishing for a horse. If I were a beggar what sort of horse would I wish for. Would I stop with some spavined sway-backed old nag? Or (since it’s just wishing) would I wish for an Arab, graceful and beautiful?

Galloping Arab

Once I finally figured that out, I never knew whether to be jealous of the “beggars” or not. After all, beggars might one day be able to magically bring horses into being. I wanted a horse more than anything in those days, so if that’s what it took, I thought that being a beggar might not be so bad. I might be able to wish myself into having an Arab stallion in the process … that would be an adequate payback, or so I thought in my young mind. I often also had visions of beggars riding magnificent horses and knew what the result of that would be. They would be the butt of many jokes and derisive humor. Majestic fine horses are meant for majestic fine people … not dirty, dumpy people in filthy rags who don’t know how to ride them.

There was much “Kingdom” wisdom in my grandmother’s pithy saying. I find myself reflecting on it now. In essence we are all “beggars” here in this world. Jesus put it like this … “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.” We are all lacking the Spirit and needy when it comes to the vision and love that God wants for us. We are all left with that sense that there is a certain something missing. Something that would keep the peace, keep the love, regenerate grace and mercy. We are all beggars … what sort of horse are you wishing for?

Leaving Oz
Mar 28th, 2007 by Sonja

On the journeyGrowing up in a small town in Vermont meant that I hardly ever saw the movie. I almost always read the book. In fact, I didn’t see The Wizard of Oz until I was 22 years old and a somewhat belligerent (now) ex-boyfriend insisted that my life was incomplete without seeing that movie. So now I have the movie images to replace my own imagination images. Eh … The only movie I’ve yet to see that came close to successfully duplicating the book was the Lord of the Rings, but even that was a sad replacement. I loved the movies. I loved the books more.

So here’s another piece in my patchwork quilt of church leadership thoughts. How do churches operate? How do human organizations in general operate? Should a church be substantially different from other human organizations? Should the leadership structure of a church be substantially different from the leadership structure of other human organizations? Ought we (in the church, the Body of Christ … the Bride of Christ) to be taking so much of our guidance from other human forms and structures? I don’t really have any answers to those questions. They are simply the questions I’ve been asking as I’ve been reading, thinking, and looking at the Church.

One of my best loved books when I was young was The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. I lost count of how many times I read that book. It never occurred to me that the movie would be worth the price of admission since the book had so captured my imagination. I’ve always been disappointed that my children have not read the book since they saw the movie so young. The book is well worth reading and has far more symbolism apparent in it than one would think for a children’s fantasy novel. I remember being somewhat disappointed as a young adult when I discovered that L. Frank Baum wrote this novel as a political essay advocating remaining on the Gold Standard (the Yellow Brick Road). But there are many spiritual themes evident in the book as well.

Wizard RevealedI still remember the shock and dismay I felt when I got to the scene where the wizard was revealed. I was completely unprepared for that. I was so wrapped up in the magic and fantasy and completely undone by the reality. I was fully empathetic with Dorothy’s despair, anger and betrayal.

The Lion thought it might be as well to frighten the Wizard, so he gave a large, loud roar, which was so fierce and dreadful that Toto jumped away from him in alarm and tipped over the screen that stood in a corner. As it fell with a crash they looked that way, and the next moment all of them were filled with wonder. For they saw, standing in just the spot the screen had hidden, a little old man, with a bald head and a wrinkled face, who seemed to be as much surprised as they were. The Tin Woodman, raising his axe, rushed toward the little man and cried out, “Who are you?”

“I am Oz, the Great and Terrible,” said the little man, in a trembling voice. “But don’t strike me–please don’t–and I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay.

“I thought Oz was a great Head,” said Dorothy.

“And I thought Oz was a lovely Lady,” said the Scarecrow.

“And I thought Oz was a terrible Beast,” said the Tin Woodman.

“And I thought Oz was a Ball of Fire,” exclaimed the Lion.

“No, you are all wrong,” said the little man meekly. “I have been making believe.”

“Making believe!” cried Dorothy. “Are you not a Great Wizard?”

“Hush, my dear,” he said. “Don’t speak so loud, or you will be overheard–and I should be ruined. I’m supposed to be a Great Wizard.”

“And aren’t you?” she asked.

“Not a bit of it, my dear; I’m just a common man.”

“You’re more than that,” said the Scarecrow, in a grieved tone; “you’re a humbug.”

“Exactly so!” declared the little man, rubbing his hands together as if it pleased him. “I am a humbug.”

“But this is terrible,” said the Tin Woodman. “How shall I ever get my heart?”

“Or I my courage?” asked the Lion.

“Or I my brains?” wailed the Scarecrow, wiping the tears from his eyes with his coat sleeve.

“My dear friends,” said Oz, “I pray you not to speak of these little things. Think of me, and the terrible trouble I’m in at being found out.”

“Doesn’t anyone else know you’re a humbug?” asked Dorothy.

“No one knows it but you four–and myself,” replied Oz. “I have fooled everyone so long that I thought I should never be found out. It was a great mistake my ever letting you into the Throne Room. Usually I will not see even my subjects, and so they believe I am something terrible.”

“But, I don’t understand,” said Dorothy, in bewilderment. “How was it that you appeared to me as a great Head?”

“That was one of my tricks,” answered Oz. “Step this way, please, and I will tell you all about it.”

from “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” by L. Frank Baum

As a child, I was heartbroken to read this passage. It seemed that all of their dreams were never going to come true and all of their hard work and trials were for nothing. It was a terrible moment and all hope was dashed. But when I read it as an adult, I see other more interesting things going on here in the Great Throneroom of the Emerald City.

First of all, there is the wizard’s response to being revealed. He is at once relieved and frightened. Finally, there is someone with whom he can share his burden. But he is uncertain as to whether or not these are trustworthy allies. There is tension in the room and bargaining begins to take place between the entities. Each wants to know what they might get from the other in response to giving a little.

The Wizard continued to tell his story:

“Well, one day I went up in a balloon and the ropes got twisted, so that I couldn’t come down again. It went way up above the clouds, so far that a current of air struck it and carried it many, many miles away. For a day and a night I traveled through the air, and on the morning of the second day I awoke and found the balloon floating over a strange and beautiful country.

“It came down gradually, and I was not hurt a bit. But I found myself in the midst of a strange people, who, seeing me come from the clouds, thought I was a great Wizard. Of course I let them think so, because they were afraid of me, and promised to do anything I wished them to.

“Just to amuse myself, and keep the good people busy, I ordered them to build this City, and my Palace; and they did it all willingly and well. Then I thought, as the country was so green and beautiful, I would call it the Emerald City; and to make the name fit better I put green spectacles on all the people, so that everything they saw was green.”

“But isn’t everything here green?” asked Dorothy.

“No more than in any other city,” replied Oz; “but when you wear green spectacles, why of course everything you see looks green to you. The Emerald City was built a great many years ago, for I was a young man when the balloon brought me here, and I am a very old man now. But my people have worn green glasses on their eyes so long that most of them think it really is an Emerald City, and it certainly is a beautiful place, abounding in jewels and precious metals, and every good thing that is needed to make one happy. I have been good to the people, and they like me; but ever since this Palace was built, I have shut myself up and would not see any of them.

He went on to say that he would be able to make good on his promises to the Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. He wasn’t so sure about getting Dorothy home. That would take some thinking for “… two or three days.” In the meantime the journeyers would be his guests in the palace as long as they kept his secret … “In the meantime you shall all be treated as my guests, and while you live in the Palace my people will wait upon you and obey your slightest wish. There is only one thing I ask in return for my help–such as it is. You must keep my secret and tell no one I am a humbug.”

I’ve been thinking about this scene quite a bit lately. L. Frank was onto something when he wrote this bit. He drew a picture of how we humans love to put leaders on a pedestal. We imbue them with a form of magic and believe they can do no wrong. We are willing to wear (metaphorical) spectacles that change the color of our world in order that we see things in the manner that they tell us it looks. We all do this. We do this in order to work in large institutions. We do this in order to pursue degrees of higher learning. We do this in order to vote. But do we do it in order to be in community in our churches? I believe that we do.

I believe that we wear spectacles of the strongest hue when we walk through the doors of the church. We love to think that our pastors are wizards, capable of making our dreams come true, putting us in touch with God and with our community. They will keep the peace and the money flowing. But here’s the problem, the pastors also think they are wizards. I don’t mean they think it consciously, that would be ridiculous. But they buy into their half of the bargain. They hand out the spectacles and work very hard at making the people feel good about living in a beautiful city. They are very “good to [their] people” and the people like them in return.

Now this is fine if we’re talking about a university or a corporation. I think it’s natural, human nature to think of human beings behaving in this manner. However, I just think that the church might want to be different. If we claim to be redeemed by a Saviour, maybe, just maybe we could try living without our spectacles on in one place in our lives. It’s scary and shaky ground. But all of the colors are beautiful. Really … they are vibrant and wonderful.

UPDATE: After I wrote this, I went surfing. No, not in the ocean, it’s too far away and I don’t know how. Out on the good ole www. I ran across The People Formerly Known As the Congregation which delves more deeply into the subject by Bill Kinnon. It’s an excellent read. My only quibble with Bill is that I believe we are in the midst of breaking a long held social contract in a dearly held social institution. This contract is one in which both entities stand to gain and lose much when the ties that bind them in this contract are broken. At least that is what is apparent to us in this world. By Kingdom standards who knows what we will gain and lose, the powers that be will be restrained in this world, and the Truth will indeed set us free.

Selective Linky Love
Mar 27th, 2007 by Sonja

Over the weekend Brother Maynard (that dastardly monk) got a bee in his cowl and started a new meme. At least this time we know the source … hehehe. In any case, here’s the dealio …

Here’s what we’re going to do. Think of between 3 and 5 blogs which you think are under-rated, under-appreciated, or under-valued. More people should be reading them, in other words. They need to be blogging largely on EMC themes and topics, and they should not be on the list of leading blogs on these areas, say 150ish+ links on Technorati. Got your list? I’ll wait. If you come up with 7, that’s fine… you can borrow 2 from someone else. ;^)

You’ll find below a list of blogs that I feel deserve more attention. Yes, some are compadres, but others are people I’ve never met, I just read their blogs. To participate, copy this list into a new post on your own blog, and add the names you have to the bottom of the list, and encourage others to do the same. Your list will be about twice the length of mine, and people who follow you will have lists three times this length. It could get fairly long, but that’s part of the point — each link will help boost the undervalued blog’s profile… and you might even get some link love from it too! Include these instructions (this and the preceding paragraph). When you’ve done that, leave a trackback or comment below, or link to this post so we can keep track of who ends up participating. Sound like fun for the weekend? Okay, here we go, in no particular order:

As of Monday … taking the list from Matt Weibe (and adding my picks to it):

So … leave a comment here if you decide to play. Or a trackback. Or just enjoy these links. Have fun …

Toads
Mar 27th, 2007 by Sonja

I remember catching toads when I was young. They were much easier to catch than frogs. Frogs, after all, lived at the edges of ponds (so they had easy escape routes) and they are slippery. Toads live pretty much anywhere and they are bumpy. They are risky because they might pee on you, but fascinatingly grotesque. Thus, when I saw this provocative headline, Toad the Size of Small Dog, it was a must read.

I had visions of The Wind in the Willows, or a small boy having caught and fed a toad in order to enter the Guiness Book of World Records. But, no. This was a toad found and caught in the “wilds” so to speak of the suburbs of Darwin, Australia. It’s a case of toads gone bad. Toads wrecking the local eco-system. Toads brought in from South America in the 1930’s to control the beetle population, but they demolished other things too. So now they catch the toads, kill them and reprocess them to make “a great fertilizer.”

I began thinking about this. In a certain sense this is a very funny article about large men with large flashlights tiptoeing about stalking toads in the deep dark night and I’d love to write the screenplay for the comic movie about it. In another sense this article is about how little we know and understand the delicate balance of nature and science. We think we get it, but we are like the 5 blind men describing the elephant. Except we’ve just got the trunk. We understand one part of the elephant’s trunk and are making decisions about the whole elephant based upon our knowledge of his trunk, or a little piece of his tail. But we do not understand how the whole elephant fits together and moves and grows and lives.

I also began to think about how much of the damage that’s been done in and on the earth and to each other has come about because of our impatience. We are impatient to grow more food faster. We are impatient to live perfect happy lives. We are impatient with illness and sadness. We are impatient gray skies and cloudy days. We are impatient with hunger. We are impatient.

I am also beginning to think that it’s pretty likely that we passed the point of population sustainability sometime in the 1800s. I know that means that I should not be writing this. And likely 7 out of 10 of my readers should not be reading it. This is a harsh reality. But then so is the reality that many people in the developing world live out day after starving day.

You Gotta Know …
Mar 24th, 2007 by Sonja

… when to hold ’em.

As the line that Johnny Cash Kenny Rogers used to sing goes …

You gotta know

when to hold ’em,

know when to walk away,

know when to run.

I thought of that song just now. LightHusband and I got sucked into a guilty pleasure. Staying up too late and watching a decent movie on television.

I’m fairly certain we’d all agree that television advertising is … ummm … over the top. The advertisers are, after all, seeking our business; our hard earned dollars as it were. But the latest advertising line from Taco Hell Bell is just too much. Especially when one considers that we are in the midst of a national health crisis that is caused mainly by overeating. The new advertising campaign is called …

… are you ready?

Wait for it.

Fourth Meal!!

I’m running.

Looking For Heaven
Mar 20th, 2007 by Sonja

I’ve recently taken out my Celtic Daily Prayer book … again and begun using it more regularly … again. I love the Celtic way of prayer and life. The way of learning to pray through life and live through prayer. It grounds me in a good way. There was a book mark that I’d left in a funny place, so I opened it to the bookmark and found some readings that struck me:

The only preparation which multitudes seem to make for heaven is for its judgment bar. What will they do in its streets? What have they practised of love? How like are they to its Lord? Earth is the rehearsal for heaven. The eternal beyond is the eternal here. The street-life, the home-life, the business-life, the city-life in all the varied range of its activity, are an apprenticeship for the city of God. There is no other apprenticeship for it.

Traveller to God’s last city, be glad that you are alive. Be thankful for the city at your door and for the chance to build its walls a little nearer heaven before you go. Pray for yet a little while to redeem the wasted years. And week by week as you go forth from worship, and day by day as you awake to face this great and needy world, learn to ‘seek a City’ there, and in the service of its neediest find heaven.

I’ve searched, but cannot find the source, of these readings. So I cannot properly attribute them.  I’m pondering the notions they present about our search for the heavenly.  They seem to be inextricably linked.  Or are they?  Do we practice for heaven in service to the needy?  Who is needy?  I wonder sometimes if providing service to those who are needy in body is a service to those of us who are needy in spirit.  Thus it becomes an apprenticeship for both.

Passing Time
Mar 20th, 2007 by Sonja

Yesterday was a marker of two things. One in the world and one in our family, but both were large.

Yesterday marked the fourth anniversary of the war in Iraq.

Yesterday was Lightboy’s tenth birthday.

I hate that war. It fills me with revulsion. It is being fought for all the wrong reasons. We were told lies to make it palatable. We are still being told lies to keep the real issues from coming to the table. If we were ever able to sit down and talk amongst ourselves about the truth, the money would dry up. I hate that war with every fiber of my soul. Men, women and children are dying to keep a few fat rich men fatter and richer.

I hate most of all that it gets discussed, vigils are held, and opinions expressed, etc. every year on the day that I must attempt to be merry and happy for my son. I love my boy and I love to remember the day he was born and all the days he has been with us since (all three thousand six hundred fifty of them). The struggle to overcome that tension saps my strength. I avoid the news and my usual on-line haunts. But somehow I can’t avoid the inside of my head.

Lightboy had a good birthday. He never knew. He never does. Beginning next year, though I will give him the choice. He will be old enough to choose to participate in vigils or stay home. To hear and read the articles or not. It will be his choice.

Zathura - gameIt was a quiet birthday. Just us. He got his most lusted after gift … Test Tube Aliens (article here). And he got a surprise that he didn’t know existed … the game Zathura. This is a game which is based on a movie that we all love. The game is an integral part of the movie. We played last night after cake. It was fun and we imagined we were in the movie. It was a good day to be 10.

A Season of Friends
Mar 15th, 2007 by Sonja

Quaker Summer - book coverAlmost two months ago, Will Samson leaked the information that his wife, Lisa was giving away free (did you see that? FREE) copies of her latest book, Quaker Summer, in exchange for the small price of writing a review of the book once we’d read it. A free book? My eyes perked right up. I’ve come to respect Lisa through her blog and interactions with her on her husband’s blog as well. So I thought that her book would be a breath of fresh air.

My only real complaint about this book is that I finished it the other night and that the people aren’t real. I can’t drive up to Baltimore and find the characters hanging out at the homeless shelter there. I was so sad when I closed the book at 12:15 the other night and had to say good-bye to friends. I fell in love with the main character, Heather Curridge (or is that Courage?). I had been reading it slowly on purpose. To stretch it out and make it last. But there weren’t enough pages. I came to the end and had to say good-bye.

Lisa Samson wrote this book in the first person, as a journal almost. I could even see it as a blog in spots and found myself searching for the “Comment” button. The characters are fairly three dimensional, believable and I wanted to meet them, have coffee, catch up with where they are now.

We walk with Heather through the deepest parts of the valley of her mid-life crisis. In the beginning of the book her life is slowly unraveling but she is the only one who notices. She takes a courageous step and allows the unraveling to continue to see where it leads, and once that is done allows the Holy Spirit to engage her in the re-winding of her threads back together. In that process she becomes whole once again and it feels like an honor to be invited to witness this.

At first I thought the conversations sounded canned and a bit flat, but when I started reading it as a journal they became more authentic, the way one of us might re-hash a conversation on paper. There are nuances and bits that we forget, that we leave out; tone of voice that never makes it onto the page of a diary and thus a conversation that meanders and burbles in real life becomes much more directed and forceful in our memory.

Through the course of this book it becomes very clear that Ms. Samson pretty thoroughly understands theology and many different denominational perspectives within Christendom. She’s a very savvy writer who wraps up some excellent debate about the Kingdom of God and how we can operate within it and for it in engaging fiction that keeps you wanting to know more about the characters without beating you about the head with her theology.

In all, a thoroughly enjoyable book that I’d highly recommend. It will have me thinking through some things for quite some time to come. I may even begin putting dots on my possessions. 😉

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