first round of fuller classes down, a few more to go.

okay, many have asked how classes are and i've been waiting to get back to people b/c they didn't start until just yesterday (tuesday). now, i've had each one of my classes at least once so I wanted to give a run down on them real quick.

systematic theology I: anthropology & more "ology" words I can't remember---this class i thought i would hate but i think i will like it. it's taught by this finland professor who speaks not-so-good english yet has an incredible heart for the Lord.

new testament 1: gospels---this class will be good...kind of like bib. lit. 2 from taylor, just supercharged. already i think i've had more reading than i had for the entire semester in taylor's bib lit class. yeaahhyyy!

christian apologetics---this class, i already love. i had it this evening and it was three hours of wonderful lecturing and class discussion on faith, reason, art, music, and how God is not above being in all things. many students spoke out and talked about God using "secular" music to change some Christian's hearts and then, one bright young female student spoke out claiming, "isn't just the fact that we divide our lives into the sacred and the secular signal something bad in our culture? don't you think we shouldn't attribute things as "secular" or "christian" b/c in the end, everything can be redeemed?" spoken like a true A.W. Tozer advocate, the rest of the class agreed and we went on. i never liked the idea of a CD being "christian" or "secular." on the one hand, it's insulting human beings who are in fact christians (christian Cd's will not be going to heaven). on the other hand, it gives the "secular" Cd's no chance at even receiving the gift of Jesus and of eternal life. so that alone should give us cause to throw out the words, right? everyone (and thing?) should have the chance to accept jesus as their saviour....even those "secular" cd's. my work here is done. good night.

sister.

"A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth. It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart." --Ecclesiastes 7:1-2

I did the really horrible and un-purpose-driven-approach to the Bible today and found myself opening up randomly to Ecclesiastes where my eyes were drawn to much scribble and underlining in the bottom middle of the page. There, the two verses quoted above leaped out at me and made me shut the book only seconds after opening it. It seems I've been hit with the idea of death a lot lately, as I've thought about how much society and the Church in general, seems to avoid death and dying and hurt and pain. If I were ever to be a Pastor, I think the one thing I'd be confident in doing now would be to visit the sick--especially the elderly--in hospitals. I know many people who become pastors probably dread this aspect of their ministry, but I think working at the hostpial has helped me see how much I would value this part of the pastor's responsibilities. When it comes to suffering alongside other people and being there for the elderly who feel alone and abandoned, I think most people--like myself--feel inadequate...like they have nothing to offer. But if you spend any great length of time in a hospital, you come to realize that when you come to be with someone who's sick or dying, "being with them" is the most important part of the visit.

This summer, towards the end of my time at the hospital, I started to do this with a few people who were sick and hurting on our floor and who were going to be there for at least weeks, and perhaps may end up dying there. One woman in particular--a nun, who's name escapes me at the moment (I just called her 'sister')--remembered a time where I stopped to chat with her while I was in the middle of mopping her room floor and the next day, proceeded to ask for me by name (she rememberd it, even though I had said it to her just once the day before). So then, every day for the last few days I was working at Borgess, I made a 5-10 minute stop by this dear sister's bedside and held her hand, and just talked with her. It was something I would've never thought to have done years ago, but now, after working there for a few years, you start to realize how so many people just want someone to listen to them for a few minutes, and that, for that moment, is all they really need. So there we are, Sister (who's in her early 80's) and I, holding hands, with a small crucifix dangling in between her fingers. And as we sat and she talked and told me of how she was doing, I couldn't help but watch the crucifix and think of how much this little icon meant to this frail, little child of God. I sat there, admiring her, respecting her and then came to feel the rewarding sense one gets when one gives rather than takes. I couldn't help but notice how far I was from the kind of faith she posessed, yet, I also couldn't help but think that it was okay to be where I'm at and to realize that it takes time and effort and patience and much love, to grow to love God the way she has. And for tonight, I think that is enough.

a guy named Rob...and the L.A. freeway.

there's something distinctly personal when a city with more than a billion people in it can still manage to make you feel like you matter and that maybe, it's okay to call it your home. whether that's having right of way to the ever-ending freeways of L.A., or just feeling a sense of worth in a city consumed with political correctness, it's pretty refreshing to think you contribute to that billion+ population of people. i'm not sure exactly why it's refreshing, but it is nonetheless.

tonight, i went to my first L.A. get together with some friends from my internship and some of their friends and despite me not wanting to go at all, i have to admit, i had a pretty wonderful time. thank you to all who encouraged me to go.

now, this may be a bold statement, but i think a lot of people who choose freely to think as little as possible look forward and wait all the work-week to attend these weekend parties where their consumption of alcohol or cigarettes or the combination of both excuses them from behaving rationally. i just find it very funny when people who do this act almost the same without the consumption of any of these to begin with. tonight, there was one such guy named Rob and although he said no more than 20 words the entire night, his ice throwing at certain females (despite several demands from others to "STOP IT!") and wanting to go swimming when no one else is wearing a swimsuit and constant eye-glazed-over look on his face that lends itself to the "i'm good looking, don't you think?" stare expression AND his constant obsession with laughing at all the wrong times and intervening in conversation at all the wrong moments, makes me wonder how a guy like this does in the world outside of saturday night parties. when monday morning rolls around, and the time has come to be responsible, i can't help but picture Rob, sitting in his little cubicle, throwing paper airplanes over into other cubicles, giggling with glee as fellow employees "SSSH" and scoff at Rob's weekend-party ways.

clear the mind.

i'm constantly wondering and thinking about my time in L.A. back in 2003 and wondering why it was so great. much of it had to do with the release of being attached to certain responsibilites--whether that be volunteering for a campus ministry or attending meeting after meeting after endless meeting--and much of it had to do with other things. i was in an unfamiliar place, yes, and there's something to be said for that i think. when you are stripped of who you are, unable to be defined any longer by the people you call friends, something very strange happens. i think you either abuse the nakedness of yourself and your vulnerability, or you accept it and learn how to make it through without falling apart. the latter is what i think i did, and when i realized i didn't fall apart, i think that's what made my time so meaninful and fulfilling and important to me. when you're stuck in the middle of two places, not really having somewhere to call home, you're forced into meaning or forced into numbness. i think L.A. last last spring was the first time i was put in a place like that, and i didn't choose numbness. does that make sense?

it's funny to talk about this L.A. memory like this b/c here i am again, not wanting to relive the same thing but trying to figure out how this time will be different from the last. granted, i'm a year and a half older, and i'm still being told again and again (yet, i choose not to hear it) that love is worth the risk. i write those words but i don't think i believe them b/c so many instances of the past year have revolved around love not being worth it to me. let me try to explain without getting too personal.

last weekend, i had one of those amazing moments, where I was confident God was real and existed and that maybe, i wasn't the only one going through something hard. i think as a 22-year-old, part of your job is to play the role of thinking the world has it easier than you do, and that often, few understand how bad you really have it. yet, when i enter into someone else's time and attempt to listen to their own world and how it sucks for them, i think that maybe we all are just really screwed up and in need of one another. we need to touch each other--not b/c of our sexual nature but b/c of our human nature--and it's this very thing i think i don't (and the world) doesn't do enough of. now, don't label me as a sensitive-Jesus-wannabe-hippee just yet b/c there's one more thing i wanna say (soapbox time).

i went to a movie today, alone, and in the theater, there were 8 other people who were alone too. that may seem like none except that there was only one couple other than us 9 there. this got me thinking: what is going on with the world? why are we constantly becoming more and more isolated? in the movie i was watching, the guy and girl were having a conversation about if the world was becoming better or if the world were really as sucky as everyone thinks it is. the guy said it was getting better, the girl said it was getting worse. and as i thought about it, i wondered where i fit. was i a hopeful, Jesus-loving optimist, constantly reminding myself that the best was yet to come OR was i the one holding people down, making them deal with things they don't like and making them listen to ugly things and facts about the world? i think i go back and forth, but really, this all goes back to L.A. a year and a half ago. then, i was thinking like a winsome optimist, full of hope and everything. now, i'm not so sure. i want to believe that so much but after sitting in a theater by myself with 8 other people who were just as alone as me, i wonder. sorry for going off a bit, but i needed a little bit of flushing out of the head right now. there's much going on up there even if this post doesn't reflect just that. good night.

seminary orientation?

i don't know why, but whenever anything labeled "orientation" comes along, i tend to retreat into my psyche and avoid talking to most people. i try and avoid the conversations i'm so sick of having and for a day or so, attempt to go and learn and hear information from a bunch of older people who run the school, telling me about where not to park and what to do if my financial aid money drops out on me. i'm a cynic and have a very bad attitude as you can tell. however today, i think God was out trying to prove me wrong, again. as the 10 hour was creeping up on me, and another meeting was bleeding painfully into the next (overly dramatic? yes, i am. thank you for noticing), i began to let go of my stiff, stare-at-the-wall-and-act-like-you-don't-see-this-other-seminarian-guy-looking-at-you-and-wanting-to-talk attitude and let up. the guy's name was mark and he was about 32 years old and wants to be a bible teacher. as we got to talking over a quick dinner, i realized this guy mark was one of those, "hey brother, that's great!" kind of guys and my skepticism quickly sunk in. then came my cynicism and then, of course, my critical spirit. but oddly enough, i could not not like this guy. he was one of those sincere people who hung on every word you said and always seemed to respond with "wow, our God is amazing, isn't he Neville." granted, we just met 3 minutes ago, so it struck me a little odd that we were already on first-name speaking terms. the conversations went back and forth and slowly but surely, mark got to me. by the end, i started to actually really want to know what was going on in his life. normally, i would look at a person like this and have a field day in my mind as to how too perfect they really are. yet today, as i said, i think God was getting a little sick of me acting all high and mighty and decided to throw someone who heard me and listened to me as if we had known each other for years. i normally don't like that type of approach from people i've just met, but tonight, i didn't seem to mind it.

before i knew it, i was talking to the entire table and mark seemed to have brought the other me out in the open for the first time. i was laughing and finally having a good time. call me cheesy or crazy but i was. the last hour and a half of this 12 hour+ day filled with meeting after meeting couldn't have ended more perfectly. so now, i guess i'm not completely down on orientation days. even though i still think they create some of the most awkward moments in the world. maybe that's a blessing though. i don't know. good night brothers (and sisters).

encountering the forever happy person.

you ever talk to someone who no matter what you say, seems to find something positive about it? for instance, i've been having some real problems with two fillings i got a few weeks ago at the dentist and when relaying this to a dentist receptionist out here she seemed to hear only good things. "oh you found out why your teeth have been hurting for so long and why they will hurt for 6 months more?--that's great!" the dentist receptionist said.

i was confused. what was great about finding out that you won't be able to use your back teeth to chew food for the next 6 months. "at least now you know and you can get better, day by day!" the dentist receptionist said again. to this, i had no clue what to say. i stopped in mid-sentence and couldn't come up with any response. "just know that every day it's gonna get better, until one day you'll be back to normal." the dentist receptionist intervened again. i was close to fury. here i was, trying to communicate my problem to her and the office, reporting back to them so they could better assist me and possibly see me again (i went in yesterday and the dentist here told me to ask my dentist back home about some filling etching used b/c that might be the cause of my pain and discomfort). however, this woman was acting as if i just called to say the pain was gone! no, the pain is not gone. it's still exists. just b/c now i know why it exists doesn't mean we act as if the problem is solved. it's like going to the hospital after getting shot and having a nurse tell you "you've been shot and that's why your hurting!" it's just not the answer or response your looking for. you want them to try and fix the wound not gloat over it and dress it up to sound as if it's self-fixing. i know the human body is a wonderful and powerful thing and can heal itself amazingly with its complex immune system and what not. however, when a human being has intervened with this system and caused the problem, it's not like it's easy for the body to respond with, "okay, so there's this acid filling etching stuff in me---we'll just flush it out." no, it sometimes takes a little work on behalf of the medical / dental staff of the world.

half of this doesn't make sense, but if any part of it does, i'll be happy. it just blows me away sometime when you say something to someone and they smile, and act like they heard you but didn't process what was said. that just kills me. (okay, now i'm sounding like holden caufield...better stop now).

my hallmark moment.

i never thought this day would come but i guess i was reminded tonight how emotional of a guy i really am. i was watching the hallmark hall of fame movie tonight--something i've never done before--and whenever a commercial break comes, there is always at least one or more very long hallmark commercial / mini-movies, wanting to tug at the heart of any person sappy enough to watch it. well, i was making fun of these commercial short films until one, surprisingly, caught me off guard. it was about a little boy who is a good friend to a boy at school who really doesn't have any other friends and he comes home one day with a teacher's card in his backpack. his mother is skeptical and asks what it's all about and has he tells her (fine acting on the part of this little 8 year old boy) i found myself being pulled in--minute by minute--into this little boy's innocent, yet kind world. right before it was done and as the mom was reading the card from the teacher about her near-perfect son, i felt that tiny touch and tingle on the indside and knew that i was temporarily a big sucker. i laughed out loud--with a partial tear forming i'm ashamed to say--amazed at how a commercial could do such a thing to a person (but granted, it was about 3 minutes long--so not your normal commercial). however, i think this laugh was just a cover-up to not let mrs. guge know that it really had gotten to me. after it was over, i turned to her and said, "wow--can you believe that?" she was just as touched as I, and then, for a moment i didn't feel so stupid after all. maybe after 22 years of being a kid and never yet a parent, i've tasted a little bit of what parents must feel when their kids do great things. it's indescribable but i just wanted to confess that i am now one of those people who shamefully must admit that i was about to cry after watching a hallmark commercial. oh what california is doing to me. good night.

driving into beauty and music.

i'm here...finally. l.a. is wonderful so far (it's my first full day here, so what else can I say?). i got in much later than expected last night at midnight and i'm doing well although my little honda friend is a bit sick from the few-day trip. i'll be taking him in to see dr. mechanic sometime soon b/c he had one too many temperatures on the highway while we were driving. it scared me a bit, and every time i saw the temp. rise and almost enter the red zone, i would panic and want to just pull over and let him cool down a bit. oh well. hopefully he'll be doing better soon. if you want to hear the full story, you'll have to speak with me in person. there were other things that went wrong too. oh, brother!

anyways, driving across the country is something every person needs to do at least once. especially those die-hard, pro-squared, go-go American nuts who clapped in their easy chair at home every time a medal was won a few weeks ago. my advice to you all: how can you love your country so much if you haven't seen more than two states of it? eek...i think there was a bit of really bad english in that sentence, but maybe that fits the question and to whom it was directed at. anyways, people need to see the country on the road. i wish sometimes that planes hadn't been invented b/c then, people would be forced into land travel. i also wish that people would cut the "you drove all that way by yourself?" questioning toward me out. yes, i drove all that. no, actually, it wasn't bad, i loved almost ever minute of it (except for the mintues honda was hurting---see comments above). i loved being alone and the feeling of not being alone that came with being surrounded by creation. i loved picturing and imagining what it must have been like to be on those horses riding out west to search for land, gold, or something more. i loved seeing the sun set behind a mountain right in front of me. there were many other things, but these were a few. i listened to books on tape one day and to music the next. both were enjoyable but with music, it was weird to see how much it dictated my mood. i was listening to one of shorb's cds (can't remember the artist) at one point and while the music was so beautiful and i kept one song on repeat for about 30 minutes, i couldn't help but notice how sad i was. the song seemed to open this up in me and while i'm not blaming the song, i am saying that music has much more power than we give it credit. every since mid-july, i've been thinking about listening and hearing and how maybe, losing the ability to hear would in fact be worse than being blind (i used to think the opposite). on days like last night, i think it would be worse b/c nothing in my life seems to give me as much inner buzz as the sound of a really good song, waiting to be heard.

"My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary." -Martin Luther

on the way to l.a.

i'm a little over the halfway point and already i'm feeling weird. i started out yesterday officially from Taylor and after some car trouble and 19+ hours of being in the car alone, i arrived in colorado springs. i've never been here before and since today is kind of an in-between relax/refuel from yesterday's drive, i think i might go out and explore a bit. i saw pike's peak for the first time ever earlier this morning and it was beautiful to say the least. i'm staying with joe and cheryl (taylor grads now married) and they live in one of the beautiful subdivision/neighborhoods here. in some ways, here reminds me of san francisco where the layered land and houses built so close together make the city look like a packed out rummage sale of houses that look similar to one another.

seeing taylor was good, although didn't feel quite the same. when i arrived i immediatly felt out of place. my mood fluxuated throughout the weekend from melancholy to happy and from sad to anxious, and all the while i kept thinking about how fast my time there went. i wish i could've been with people more (throughout my 4 taylor years), especially those who i got to know better senior year. like the feeling i had when i went to l.a., i think i was a little bit upset with God for giving me such wonderful friendships and blessing me with new ones in the last few months b/c he knew and I knew that i would've have to leave them. but maybe in the coming years, wherever work will end up taking me, i'll be near friends and everything might be the same. i wonder how much time is spent on being lonely or feeling depressed after experiences with people and friends. i know they're worth the pain that eventually comes after break-ups like graduating from college, but i wonder how much this hurts our new part of life when we start it without them. i know it sounds like i'm being a bit hopeless and complaining too much but this is where i am now. we all need to be loved and feel loved, yet, contrary to some church teaching, i don't think just saying that "God loves me and that's enough," really does it. call me a heretic, but i/m finding it hard to understand how people can think or know or feel God's love and say that is enough when they've never been loved by anyone else (friends, family, etc.). this is probably coming off different than i want it to, so i'll just stop now. i'll talk to you again once in L.A.

"you're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you."

these words i utter to my car, after hearing this janet jackson cover of a joni mitchell classic. yes, i said that right---to my car. i was driving home tonight from grand rapids after my last official evening with three of my siblings and a brother-in-law and was thinking of how much i've grown to really care for my car. now, don't write me off as idoling just yet...let me try to explain b/c i think it's a good thing to learn. with the car i now drive, i used to think it was flashy and too good for me when i first started driving it regularly in january of 2003. after all it was my dad's car and i was used to the 1990' junkers that i had been driving since i got my license. there was always an element of pride i felt in driving those junkees, and i can't exactly say why. maybe i felt it said of me, "yeah, i drive this piece of crap and that's okay with me b/c i'm not my car!." however, once my current 96' honda accord was given to me by my dad (still his car, i just drive it and say it's mine) i felt this front as 'junkee driver' simply wouldn't fit anymore. now though, i'm beginning to feel closer to this car than i should. it's just sunk in for good that this is now my car and it's coming with me to L.A. once again. it was there for me the first time around and it's here for me again. i dare not say i love my car, but if there was ever an appropriate time to say those three beautiful words to it, i'd have to say this is the moment where i give in, confess and speak the inevitable. i think it's b/c i see my car as a person who listens to me all the time, even when i don't speak. he's always trying to get me places even when i force him to get me there quicker than he likes to go. it really is a scary thing when you start to believe your car has a personality but i'm starting to think this. it's all up there--in my imagination--and i'd like to feel as though i know my car perhaps better than a few married people know their spouses. maybe b/c we're both getting older and as i go through stages of life, my little honda is going through his. he needs more flushes, more tune-ups and quicker oil refils as i do, but in more human terms.

i'm sure many reading are wondering just what i was smoking while dreaming this whole blog post up, but i'm begging you, it really does make sense in my head. i was thinking about it while driving and thought, 'i should write this down--even though it sounds a little loony.' so here i am, writing down another loony idea that actually makes me think i'm a little more human. i know, i'm weird--it's okay, you can think it. and on that note, i'd like to paraphrase lester burnham, from 'american beauty' when he responds to his wife's laughing demand:

"Oh Lester, (laugh-laugh, giggle-giggle) don't be weird!!"......"Fine honey, i won't be weird. I'll be whatever it is you want me to be."

he was being sarcastic and so was i. and to all of you who know what i mean by this whole post, i thank you very much.

countdown.

okay, so i have less than three days before i leave my home and i don't think it's phased me yet. i still think i will move out and next year or summer or fall or winter, will move right back in--in the basement, where it's lovely and cool. i love my bedroom and the way it can stay completely dark 24 hours a day. i doubt i'll have that luxury in sunny, california but perhaps it will be a good change--you know, one to jumpstart me into the 'real world' of 9-to-5 American dreams, trying to be lived out, one day at a time.

i really don't know what to do with myself at the moment. i want to pack and need to pack, but i don't feel like it. i don't know if i'm trying to delay the inevitable or trying to pretend that i'm still 7 years old and wondering why summer is coming to an end so soon. i'm not sure about you, but i was one of those kids who looked forward to going back to school in September (august now---oh my 80s' days were so much better than the deal these kids landed today---very sad). i would buy a new lunchbox, get the latest G.I. Joe Trapper Keeper and go searching for that perfect first day of school attire with the rest of my family. i remember when i was six, picking out this extremely yellow shorts and this shirt that was yellow and bright red and blue and every other color screaming "LOOK AT ME." i look back on it and see pictures of me standing in our living room with my lunchbox in hand and backpack strapped to my back, smiling excitedly into the camera and wonder what in the world i was so anxious for. for the time to come so i could go back to school? i wish i had the innocent desire still. now, i look forward to it, but not with the whole outfit and lunchbox and backpack kind of excitement--now my thrill is a little more sedated.

maybe i'm just wishing that my parents will fly out to L.A. and on my first day of seminary grab the camera, force me to pose and that I'd look up at them with a big, winner-grin. maybe that's what i miss. i don't know. all i feel now is stuck in the middle of two places and i'm wondering which one i really belong to more.

mr. personality

i took the DISC profile personality test today--for the second time this summer--and once again, was reminded of the many weaknesses i'm currently facing as 22-year-old male in society today. according to the book, i am guilty of all of the following (and a few more i'm forgetting):

WEAKNESSES: talks too much, oversells, doesn't follow through, verbally manipulative, misjudges capabilities, rarely finishes things tasks started, overcommits, etc.

now, maybe it's just me, but when i read this and i am me, i get a little frustrated. sure i can look at the STRENGTHS section and see what characteristics i may have dead on, but it was this section alone (WEAKNESSES) that i found myself connecting with more personally. in the strengths' pool of characteristics, only a couple of the 8 really stood out to me. maybe that means i'm not as optimistic as the test would lead me to think i am (it had "optimistic" under one of my supposed strengths) but then again, maybe i am. it's all very confusing and sometimes, although i love talking about this kind of stuff with people, i get a little heavy-headed after all this personality talk stuff. yes, i need to talk less and listen more. yes, i need to slow down and be me rather than always being on the go. yes, i need a whole lot of work. it just seems a little overwelming and foolish to take on so much all at once, knowing that in 2 weeks from now i'll probably forget how many of these weaknesses i posess and quit thinking about them all together. perhaps it's part of society's information overload problem and i'm just jumping on for the over-indulgent ride to hell and back. i don't have a clue. all i know is, i talk too much and don't listen enough. this alone trying to deal with will keep me busy till' at least...october. but then again, i probably will still be struggling with it then too. i give up--at least for tonight anyways. goodnight all.

i shouldn't, but i'm going to.

i had second thoughts about posting this but what the hey, i don't care really and i doubt my dad does either. last night, my brother destry (who goes to a christian school) got an assigment from his new, young, christian history teacher that involved interviewing a parent and finding all sorts of spiritual stats on their life. so as my dad and i sat in the den, waiting to watch a movie together, destry sat at the computer ready to ask questions.

"When did you become a Christian?" My dad answered promptly. "When I was four."...and so on; the usual questions you know. Then, one came that took my brother aback. "What did you struggle with most in high school?" My dad thought for two seconds and then answered. "Masturbation." He looked at me, i looked at destry, destry was gasping and laughing and i looked back at my dad smiling. After this, we got to talking about how the church has really been in denial on this issue for so long and it was good to hear my dad get a little frustrated about thinking how back when he grew up, it was unheard of to even mention such a thing. he thought he was abnormal and terrible and remembers feeling so ashamed at times for struggling like he did. He also told my brother he struggled with insecurity and the follow-up question to that provided an even more interesting discussion. "How did you overcome these struggles?" Destry asked my dad. (Here, my dad and I exchanged glances, and I knew he was thinking what i was thinking---christians must overcome everything otherwise we don't like to talk about it b/c we look weak and vulnerable and just like the rest of the world)

As we sat there, my dad and i mainly talking about such things and talking about how this new young teacher will probably read over many standard, reprocessed "parentalized" responses, i got a little upset with myself and christians in general. I vowed that there wouldn't be more than 2 other parents (dads) that would say what my father said but that would probably be a struggle for the majority of teenage guys in the world. sad? yes. true? i think so. however, maybe our generation will be different. i hope we have the integrity and character to not live in denial while raising our kids and not pretend that we did everything right growing up either. i just hope we can be vulnerable and honest and open and merciful toward them. that's what's been missing for so long in the "christian family."

worship in america.

i was in chicago last saturday for the day, and while in Niketown (the ultimate Nike store where anybody who's anybody playing sports, visits) i saw a huge glass hanging piece on the wall with what looked like the store's mission statement (and the company possibly) etched and engraved into the glass. so many thoughts and good things (and bad things) came to mind after reading it with my jaw cracked open, i had to write it down. it really is fascinating.

"In Europe, they say you can tell which city you are in by looking at the church spires. Here in America, it is much the same; visitors need only look to our stadiums--our cathedrals of sport--to orient themselves.

This is nowhere more true than in Chicago, where these venerable structures stand not only as landmarks, but as stone and steel testimonials to the power of sport. Like those churches of Europe, each posesses its own recognizable characteristic. And like those churches, each is a place of worship.

Niketown Chicago is dedicated to the same spirit of reverence that built those edifices, and which moves us to gather together to watch full-grown adults at play."

:)

somethin' about my gen-eration.

after listening for hours to friends and hearing Taylorites struggle and battle with things back at home and seeing so many families (including my own on occasion) who seem to be just not functioning properly, i've come to this conclusion about my generation: we have no concept of the word 'honor.' we don't know what it means, really and we don't know how to live it, honestly. for me, whenever i hear the word honor, i think of one of two things: shakespeare (b/c he seemed to write a lot about it) or that bible verse i'm sure is found in proverbs that tells children to 'honor thy father and thy mother.' this has been my current upbringing and education to date on the subject of honor. i've rarely heard it preached on in churches, or addressed when christians get together and try and solve the world in one night. why though? why is this little word rarely uttered or discussed? when was the last time you said, 'joe really honors his dad, doesn't he?' it seems almost foreign or foolish to even think of such a question. yet, i think it's probably one of our generations biggest flaws and its something we didn't fail at alone. it's connected to our parents and their parents and their uncles and etc., so i'm not blaming us as one, big, stupid entity of a generation. i love my generation even when i look like i hate it. i just have been thinking about this thing (among some) this past summer and it seems like i keep revisiting this idea and what it means when we say that our generation doesn't know how to honor their elders or authorities or anyone in power above them? the only slight hint of it seems to be in dating relationships or newlywed marriages and for this, i'm grateful. yet, i can't help but think that we are missing something big. that perhaps maybe, just maybe, God spoke that verse about honor and that he meant for us to obey it. is this part of the reason for our being such a spoiled, bratty generation? i'm not sure.

i admire the way we (as a generation) seem to question everything and why we do what we do and with what intentions we do the things we do. but it seems we take it too far when very little respect is given to people 50 years older than us, or in how we treat our parents on occasion or how we simply relate to friends...especially behind their backs. it seems to all come back to honor, in one sense or another and for this reason, i'm rambling on and on and on. i don't know where we go from here though. i have no real point in writing this except to get some thoughts out in the open to people who i rarely talk with in person. it's just one of those nights where i feel very passionate about this problem i think i have and most people from my generation and feel the need to see if maybe i'm just crazy or something. i don't know. i hate ends to blog posts.

pieces of april.

okay, i'm sorry the last three posts have been about movies but here it goes. "Pieces of April" is a great movie. if you missed it (like 99% of the world did) you'd do yourself a favor and go pick it up ag b-buster. i just watched it again with my sister and a friend and forgot how good it was. i ended up watching the quick making of too, which made me love the movie even more. the director is the kind of person you'd imagine him to be---really intentional about wanting his movie to make a difference with people. plus, this time around watching it, the songs of stephin merritt linger inside of me and so, i think i want to buy the soundtrack. i shouldn't, and i know i shouldn't but if i can find it for cheap, i'm going to. i'm sorry, what can i say? i'm a sucker for a great movie and a great movie with a great score/soundtrack (i.e. also see Gavin Friday's music in "In America"). if you see 'pieces of april' and don't like it, i'm sorry. i'll gladly write you a check for the difference or amount you wasted, etc. happy friday. it's been a very long week and i'm so glad it's over.

neville & napolean finally meet.

well, it's been a long summer and after hearing friends talk about the movie "napolean dynamite" so much it made me almost sick (notice, i said almost--friends) and last night i finally saw it. it was hilarious and weird and overrated (and yet, at the same time, very underrated---i think that was the point though). it was one of those movies that is very funny in certain parts while watching it, and then after it sets in for awhile, pretty much about every part that you didn't laugh at while you were watching it, you think back, recall the scene and laugh at it now. if i were still writing for 'the echo,' i'd go out on a limb and say that 'napolean dynamite' would make by top ten list of 2004. perhaps it was funnier to me b/c napolean reminded me very very much of my younger brother and his antics and colorfulness, but i think most people would find at least some of it funny--even if they think there's no point to the movie. thank you chalupa and liz and andy long and everyone else who told me to run and see it. i've been blessed for the last 18 hours recalling many many scenes and laughing quietly by myself.

scenes from 'the good girl.'

I just watched a little bit of "THE GOOD GIRL," last night and I forgot about a few parts in it---two in particular that i was laughing very hard at. I don't recall it being this funny the first time i saw it, but watching it again, I was loving both of these scenes. Here's a set up. Jennifer Anistor ('Friends') plays Justine, who works at this texas-hickville small-town grocery store and hates her life. She's leaving after a day at work and is stopped by this security guard who's a giddy, bible-belt christian. The scene begins:

Security Guard: "Hey Justine, can I talk to you for a second?"

Justine: "Yeah."

Security Guard: "I was just curious, have you ever been to a Bible study?"

Justine: "....yeah."

Security Guard: "Yeah, well we gotta good one going on every Wednesday at the First Church of Nazarene. Rodney comes, Benita comes. You got any interest in reading the Bible?"

Justine: "I have my own...you know---beliefs."

Security Guard: "Well we don't speak fire and brimestone. 'Ten commandments', gotta live by those. Other than the usual ways, we're not interested in scaring people....we're about loving Jesus." (big smile)

Justine: "...Yeah, i kinda like my nights to myself."

Security Guard: "Well maybe you'll have night after night of eternal hellfire all to yourself. (serious stare) Just kidding (laughs and smiles)---drive safe."

...AND HERE IS THE SECOND SCENE THAT HAD ME CRACKING UP (picture the grocery star and Justine approaching a new young employee played by Jake Gyllenhal who's a cashier at the store:

Justine: "Watcha readin'?"

Holden: "Catcher in the Rye....I'm named after it."

Justine: "What'schyour name? Catcher?"

Holden: "Holden. After Holden Caufield. He's the main character."

I don't really recommend the movie to most people b/c most people would probably hate it, but i must thank Liz Boltz for urging me to see it. I'm glad I did this time around even if I wasn't happy about seeing it the first time. Then again, I hadn't read "Catcher in the Rye" prior to seeing it the first time. I guess if you like that book, you'll probably like this movie. Good day all.

changing your birthday whenever you feel like it.

i just was on amazon.com, under my personal, account page and i saw a rather odd link that read: "CHANGE YOUR BIRTHDAY." now, correct me if i'm wrong but wouldn't it seem a bit shady for someone to go through with that link? I mean, is that a cheap ploy (coy?) to get people and catch those hackers trying to assume other peoples' identities? "Oh that's right, my birthday isn't July 14, 1982, it's actually January 3, 1969....how could I forget?" there's something fishy going on here, and i don't like it one bit. i'm stupid about things like this, so maybe there's a good reason for this link...i just laughed, shook my head and couldn't believe it when i read it. oh well. i'm sure it's probably just me. (but really...since when has anyone had the freedom to just up-and-change their own birthday????)

the most expensive blog post to date.

whenever i come here with a story or two, there are times when those stories have costed me something. usually, if the story revolves around seeing a movie, it's only a few dollars. sometimes, the story is from my day at work and then, the hospital is the one inadvertently paying the bill. however, this post would not have been possible if last sunday late night, i hadn't been speeding well above the posted speed limit in up-state Wisconsin, on my way to Blom's cabin to stay there for a few days with disko, and drew and blom. at close to 1:00 a.m., and after 9 hours of driving (it was supposed to be only 8---and i still had a good hour left) i realized there was one other soul on highway 51 northbound--he just didn't turn on his lights until after i passed him going 90+mph. after not seeing a car for a good 10 minutes, this surprised me. then, i realized the speed limit had just dropped from 65 to 55. after that, i knew i was in trouble.

ten minutes later, after few words spoken...the usual, "did you know i pulled you over for speeding?" ---i nodded, giving consent and a "i'm sorry" look on my face. the cop then flashes his light in the backseat where a huge, black, Hefty-style bag sat stuffed full. "what's in the bag," he asked me. I looked and said it was my blanket, pillow and fan. looking back, i should've said something else. perhaps something like, "oh that's my sleeping bag and three heads--one body." maybe that would've made the $336 price of the ticket go down smoother or settle a bit easier. at least then, i would've had a good laugh out of it!

but alas, i said nothing of the sort and was polite and apologetic as could be. i regretted it at first, but then i realized how it was totally my fault. i kept asking and kicking up in the air how mad i was that this cop caught "me" when so many other blood-thirsty Wisconsin-highway speeders were loose and on the prowl at 1:00 in the morning. and every time i thought this (and still am thinking of it) i slowly correct my thoughts and remind me of me and what me did to deserve this paycheck-stealing fine. when i arrived back home this evening after a week of thinking long and hard about the whole thing, i found a check from the hospital waiting for me. sadly, it was about $75 short of the fine i now owe and then, the urge and feeling come and i get frustrated again. but thankfully i keep reminding myself that it is only money, that it was my fault to begin with and that i wasn't merely a sad victim torn in the middle of God's divine intervention at work. i was just a 22 year old speeding, thinking he was the only person in the world and that he was at the center of the universe--untouched, unphased by anyone and anything around him who got caught. caught for the first time speeding. no. i'm sure that was the thousandth time or so. but why does it make me so mad that this was the one to get me?

'friday driving,' starring neville kiser

i have this thing i always catch myself doing when i'm alone in a car, on my way home from work. if the appropriate song comes on (from one of my CDs) i'll suddenly transcend into the opening credits of a movie, where i'm the man driving the car and my eyes act as the camera, filming...with every blink being a new camera angle, inviting the audience inside my car. i imagine the credits cutting in and cutting out and once again, i feel cool--but not cool in a 22-year-old sense--cool in a sophomore-in-high-school-driving-his-car-home-after-school sense. the windows roll down and i imagine most people i pass stare at me and are part of my movie. they see the credits and feel the urge to pull over and clap their hands--who knows. the possibilities are endless. i don't know why i do this--but i do. i smile big when i do it and in one odd way, it's one of the few moments when i sense for sure that God is real and reachable and there. something about a song that so perfectly fits into the backround music category for films catches my ear and i drive home on cloud nine, wishing the ten minute trek could be an hour or so. sadly though, after the song is over, my movie ends and i'm stumped for a second. then--in order to minimize pain and suffering and the reality check one reaches when their imagination has gone too far--i hit the "back track" button, and relive the scene again. maybe this time i'll throw my arm out the window and wave it like i'm at a James Taylor concert. or perhaps i'll hold the wheel with hands gripped tight and imagine myself a cool, james dean kind of rebel, just trying to beat the road in my '96 honda accord. my face would be serious, my eyes focussed and intense. and then, as my hair is blowing up and down in the wind, i crack a smile and unwantingly come back to reality. i'm home now, and for some reason getting out of the car and going inside doesn't seem to be as exciting as my little 4 minute motion picture. but alas, i do it--so i can come inside and write about it on my blog, attempting to prolong the moment and feeling even just for another second. and guess what? it isn't working.

christian bookstores and me.

i want to support other christians. i want to give my money away to people who only buy t-shirts that say "I'm not going to be left behind, are you?" on the front. i want to support my brothers and sisters in Christ. really, i do. however, in my case, it takes just one trip to the local family christian bookstore to take that desire away completely (or just stamp it out and squeeze it to near-death for a while). is it just my area or are the people who work at these places just not like jesus is/was/would be (in my eyes anyways) at all!? they are either rude, mean, and piously reserved...or over-the-top-campy-cheery, smiling at you with a "i'm-only-smiling-because-i'm-a-christian-and-im'-working-here-and-that's-what-you-expect-me-to-do" type of expression. maybe i'm being judgemental and haven't explored the thousands of chrisitan bookstores out there with people who are honest, authentic and transparent about their faith; i don't know. however, i will say that if i wasn't a christian already, visiting a christian bookstore would give me one more reason for me not to join the club. that is, the family members' perks club. okay, i'm being just as mean as they are...i better stop before i relive the unpleasant monday experience in my head again.

oh, and happy birthday to blakeley...my little sister who just aged up to two full ten-finger hands!!! i love you bay! --love, nay.

talk too much.

lately, i've been reminded of the importance of listening--and also reminded of how i don't practice it often enough. whether in solitude or with scatters of other people, i'm quick to talk and run off my mouth, rarely giving others a chance to speak. so for the past few days, i've been mumbling prayers in miday up to God...something like, "God help me be a better listener---even though it's annoying when i'm surrounded by people who never talk, and it seems impossible listen to someone else's wordless chatter." i make up excuses as you can see, and so, it's been hard for me to practice this little-known art called listening and hearing. anyways, tonight, God gave me the most obvious and blatant chance/opportunity to just listen to a friend. i won't give you all the reasons for this being so obviously from God, but let's just say that it was probably 20 minutes at least that i said no more than a word or two. and of course--as i knew it probably would--it was incredible and eye-opening. to hear someone...really hear them and listen and try and get inside of their being is just another face of God's mercy and grace, i'm convinced. for this, i thank God and Carrie--for being the vessel.

trip to the dentist!

i just got back from my 6-month checkup/cleaning and a funny thing happened to me while reclined with various dental tools inserted into my mouth. kirsten leaned over me, cleaning my teeth--her eyes staring down at me, while i tried not to make eye contact. GRRRRRRRRWWWWWOOOOL. "Oops, sorry about that--guess im' ready for lunch." kirsten's stomach growled into my right ear like it was in stereo. i smiled with my mouth wide open. 2 miutes later, it happened again. "Wow, i am really hungry!" this time, my eyes seemed a little uneasy. is she going to explode? i thought. 2 minutes later, almost to the second, another growl. this time, she didn't even acknowledge it. i think she thought i didn't hear it to her drilling away at polishing my teeth with rasberry filling but on the contrary, i heard it quite well. 2 minutes later, again!! i kid you not...we're goin on four, long, 3-4 second stomach-grumblings. now, i almost started to laugh. "is it almost time for lunch yet?? (chuckle) gosh, i'm sorry about that." "it's okay," i muttered. and then i thought about what it would have been like to totally lash out in disgust, yelling at the top of my lungs for my dental hygenist to go get a bite to eat so i wouldn't have to hear her stomach rumble once more. it would've been funny but i didn't do that. i just layed there, smiling a little more, and thinking of how odd something like this really is.

books and being back home...again.

late this afternoon we flew into kalamazoo after a good week and then some in the bahamas, and again, i'm glad to be home. i got to read 4 books (one technically i started before we left, so that doesnt' count) and they were all worth my time...for the most part. however, i must say that i have to agree with liz boltz on the fact that nicholas sparks is not one of my favorite authors. i read "the notebook" after my sister said i had to, and his writing style bugged me, even though it was readable and easy to pass. anyways, read david sedaris' new book which was a treat, despite it being a little riske and shocking in parts (but when is he not shocking or riske??). leonard sweet's new book "summoned to lead" is fabulous and short and compact and just full of good ideas. and "the emotionally healthy church" by Peter sazzero(sp?) was good, but kind of one of those books where you read and think, "i know this--this is just a way of putting it nicely into a structured manner and getting it all out there on paper." it was good though and had good things to say.

anyways, enough about books for now...b/c even though it sounds like i did nothing but read, i actually had so much time to just relax and think and just be me..which was good and bad i guess depending on the day and night and time. i read the book of ruth twice and wrote much of how insignificant and little she makes me feel--even though i admire her a great deal. i think just this time when i read it (i often read her story) it hit me much harder. the realization being that i was a far cry away from the faithfulness and honoring-type of faith that she posessed. i know God has spared me much suffering when it's come to people in my life that i love, and for this, i'm grateful but also recognize that b/c of this, i can't possibly be (yet?) as great a disciple as Ruth was. she lost the love of her life. i've lost a friend here and there, but nothing to this magnitude. so, i sit, and wonder...while realizing my limitations. i'm beginning to appreciate the stages of faith so much more now than i ever have b/c it seems that everyone is on a different journey even though some are heading for the same end. it's okay if i'm not as good or as smart as the next person my age and vice versa. my tendency is to judge, belittle or criticize those my age who haven't gotten what i've gotten. this is wrong, i know, but i'm working on it, like so many other things inside of me. and for now, i think that's about all i can do.