Children get yelled at by their parents. Like when I used to blow bubbles in my soda through the straw. This usually took place at Shoney's, Big Boy, or some other restaurant that let kids eat for free on Wednesday's nights. I was relentless, I loved ruining that carbonated drink with a fury of breath sent down through the straw. I loved getting a reaction out of my parents when I would end up splashing the soda onto my chin. My parents would scold me for it. My dad would grab my shoulder and give me a harmless but forceful jolt, "Lance, cut it out." Yet, I blew bubbles into the soda. It was a furious storm of bubbles.
...
Some people think that God breathes life into the creation, human beings specifically. There is dirt, then God breathes out, and the dirt begins to dance because of the breathe of life that has been given. The dirt becomes a person. The person dances about for a while, meets other people, maybe even realizes that God breathed people into existence. The person continues to dance, but eventually God's breathe is no longer an exhale. The breathe that once made the dirt dance is now being sucked back by God.
God breathes out. And in.
God gives. And takes.
...
Sometimes I feel like soda. Like I am being blown around. Like a furious storm is happening to me. Like God is some little kid blowing into a straw.
This is absurd.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Faith Architect
A huge part of my childhood revolved around building. K'NEX and LEGOS rocked my world. And because my parents were suckers, they would buy me set after set of these little toys in hopes that it would make me develop into a lean, mean, designing machine. Well, not really. They probably just wanted a break from parenting and felt bad about setting me in front of the big purple dinosaur on the t.v. for the seventh day in a row.
I loved building this stuff. My dad even let me tinker around with his old school Lincoln Logs. This was the entirety of my existence as a child: to build shit.
Besides my obsession with sports trading cards, this little youngster hobby of mine is pretty much one of the only things I can remember spending literally all of my waking hours doing (video games don't count because it sucks brain out of your head). I was a committed LEGO and K'NEX builder. I would have been in a group on facebook, had it been available for 8 year old's in the early 90's. I was sold out to the cause of toy building. Had I not been raised in a neo-conservative Mennonite home (the "neo" part is for dramatic effect) I think I would have had tattoo's of my favorite building projects. One time I made a huge roller coaster with K'NEX and it actually worked. I also specifically remember covering my entire living room floor with LEGOs (and everyone knows how much of a joy it is to step on those). I loved getting LEGO's and opening the new box and reading the manual on how to assemble the toy (knowing full well I was flipping the pages entirely too fast to be learning anything). I loved laying all the pieces out on the ground, even if it meant losing some of the most necessary pieces. I would keep the finished project assembled for days, weeks, years if my mother would have allowed it.
I was the most incredible mixture of content, inspired, and challenged by these toys.
LEGO's and K'NEX were basically my baby sitter AND best friend. What an amazing combination!!
...
In the 9th grade I took one of those "vocation tests" that attempts to assess an adolescent's gifts and abilities, for the sake of offering career possibilities. Let's think about it: it seems that most children dream of being a movie star, firefighter, astronaut, lawyer, or something extraordinary. You know what I got: city planner. Yep, if you aren't impressed by the dullness of that right off the bat, then you probably, like I did, don't know that a city planner maps out roads, buildings, and various other city things to help with efficiency and organization. "Give it up for the boring kid!" As a young and willing young man, I was branded with the hope of one day organizing roads. And to make it even more unsettling, I was pretty much okay with this. I liked math and science, and with my history in Lego obsession, I would get the knack of things soon enough.
I was going to organize people's roads.
...
Somewhere along the line, religious people started talking to me about calling. Not calling my mom on the phone, or calling for help, or calling my brother a turd, nope, this is the type of word you put in quotes because it has the power to freak people out: "calling".
But because I have always been in a religious family, the unique nature of this language didn't really hit me until recently. As a teenager, I got more and more comfortable with "calling", maybe because it put some words to the deep longings I had, or because it meant that "some thing" was doing this "calling", or maybe thinking about my "calling" allowed me to wrestle with ideas that were foreign to me. Not foreign like illegal immigrants or Eskimos, but foreign like unfamiliar to my routine. The "calling" I was experiencing in high school was an awakening to something outside the material, quantifiable, and mechanistic stuff that I was used to. My future as a city planner was being shattered by "calling", not because dealings with the physical and seemingly mundane world around me would have been a bad pursuit, but instead, because my eyes were being opened to questions of the abstract.
My future as an architect was shifting away from the building and designing of roads and buildings, to the mapping and exploration of faith and meaning. My interests were, and continue to be, grounded in a desire to organize the stuff that surrounds us; however, I think that the stuff of faith and meaning resists this organizing, but instead requires that we thoughtfully "name" this stuff. My childhood obsession with Lego's ought to teach me a thing or two about the time I spend with religious and spiritual ideas, that I can appropriately love this process of exploring faith and meaning.
May my faith journey of the present remind me of my time spent with Lego's as a child - the most incredible mixture of content, inspired, and challenged.
I loved building this stuff. My dad even let me tinker around with his old school Lincoln Logs. This was the entirety of my existence as a child: to build shit.
Besides my obsession with sports trading cards, this little youngster hobby of mine is pretty much one of the only things I can remember spending literally all of my waking hours doing (video games don't count because it sucks brain out of your head). I was a committed LEGO and K'NEX builder. I would have been in a group on facebook, had it been available for 8 year old's in the early 90's. I was sold out to the cause of toy building. Had I not been raised in a neo-conservative Mennonite home (the "neo" part is for dramatic effect) I think I would have had tattoo's of my favorite building projects. One time I made a huge roller coaster with K'NEX and it actually worked. I also specifically remember covering my entire living room floor with LEGOs (and everyone knows how much of a joy it is to step on those). I loved getting LEGO's and opening the new box and reading the manual on how to assemble the toy (knowing full well I was flipping the pages entirely too fast to be learning anything). I loved laying all the pieces out on the ground, even if it meant losing some of the most necessary pieces. I would keep the finished project assembled for days, weeks, years if my mother would have allowed it.
I was the most incredible mixture of content, inspired, and challenged by these toys.
LEGO's and K'NEX were basically my baby sitter AND best friend. What an amazing combination!!
...
In the 9th grade I took one of those "vocation tests" that attempts to assess an adolescent's gifts and abilities, for the sake of offering career possibilities. Let's think about it: it seems that most children dream of being a movie star, firefighter, astronaut, lawyer, or something extraordinary. You know what I got: city planner. Yep, if you aren't impressed by the dullness of that right off the bat, then you probably, like I did, don't know that a city planner maps out roads, buildings, and various other city things to help with efficiency and organization. "Give it up for the boring kid!" As a young and willing young man, I was branded with the hope of one day organizing roads. And to make it even more unsettling, I was pretty much okay with this. I liked math and science, and with my history in Lego obsession, I would get the knack of things soon enough.
I was going to organize people's roads.
...
Somewhere along the line, religious people started talking to me about calling. Not calling my mom on the phone, or calling for help, or calling my brother a turd, nope, this is the type of word you put in quotes because it has the power to freak people out: "calling".
But because I have always been in a religious family, the unique nature of this language didn't really hit me until recently. As a teenager, I got more and more comfortable with "calling", maybe because it put some words to the deep longings I had, or because it meant that "some thing" was doing this "calling", or maybe thinking about my "calling" allowed me to wrestle with ideas that were foreign to me. Not foreign like illegal immigrants or Eskimos, but foreign like unfamiliar to my routine. The "calling" I was experiencing in high school was an awakening to something outside the material, quantifiable, and mechanistic stuff that I was used to. My future as a city planner was being shattered by "calling", not because dealings with the physical and seemingly mundane world around me would have been a bad pursuit, but instead, because my eyes were being opened to questions of the abstract.
My future as an architect was shifting away from the building and designing of roads and buildings, to the mapping and exploration of faith and meaning. My interests were, and continue to be, grounded in a desire to organize the stuff that surrounds us; however, I think that the stuff of faith and meaning resists this organizing, but instead requires that we thoughtfully "name" this stuff. My childhood obsession with Lego's ought to teach me a thing or two about the time I spend with religious and spiritual ideas, that I can appropriately love this process of exploring faith and meaning.
May my faith journey of the present remind me of my time spent with Lego's as a child - the most incredible mixture of content, inspired, and challenged.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Young
"And sometimes you close your eyes
And see the place where you used to live
When you were young"
I used to ask lots of questions, most of which were directed towards my Dad:
Dad, How far away is Pluto? Is spontaneous combustion real? How do I stop it from happening to me? Why is money made? Did Jesus have a beard? Why do Amish ride in the back of cars but not the front? Is the devil only in the front of the car? Can I have a new Batman toy (signs of early childhood consumerism...YES)? Oh, and why can't I tell Grandma about the beer in the fridge?
Being inquisitive is fun sometimes. Especially when you are a small child and life is so wonderfully overwhelming.
But I am tired. I am tired of thinking critically. I haven't sworn it off, but i would just really like to take a break.
I want to drink coffee or have a beer without analyzing what it means to be responsible in my current setting. I want to stop thinking so damn hard and breath deeply. I need rest from this lifestyle of intellectual criticism.
I need silence. I need help.
But, when I think about the consequences of such "freedom", my heart and mind scream...MYTH!!
This myth being the idea that senseless wondering and spontaneous adventures will in fact yield freedom. Freedom from the pains of thought and the realness of decision making. Many of us yearn for a life that is other than the one in which we find ourselves.
So, we escape. We run to the bathroom to cry...
or the couch to consume entertainment...
or the bottle to feel good for a time...
And the pattern continues. we run. we flee. we escape.
But here is the inconsistency: Escaping does not seem so much like freedom after it has become a pattern. We are enslaved to our "freedom".
Voices both in our heads and from others scream: What the hell is wrong with us?
"You gave your body to the lonely
They took your clothes
You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your goals"
"To be alone with me"
Jesus' understanding of freedom is something quite different than how I think about it most of the time. Freedom is humility. Through giving and lowering himself, Jesus showed us what freedom ought to look like.
Maybe curiosity and selflessness can be joined. Inquisitive Humility?
And see the place where you used to live
When you were young"
I used to ask lots of questions, most of which were directed towards my Dad:
Dad, How far away is Pluto? Is spontaneous combustion real? How do I stop it from happening to me? Why is money made? Did Jesus have a beard? Why do Amish ride in the back of cars but not the front? Is the devil only in the front of the car? Can I have a new Batman toy (signs of early childhood consumerism...YES)? Oh, and why can't I tell Grandma about the beer in the fridge?
Being inquisitive is fun sometimes. Especially when you are a small child and life is so wonderfully overwhelming.
But I am tired. I am tired of thinking critically. I haven't sworn it off, but i would just really like to take a break.
I want to drink coffee or have a beer without analyzing what it means to be responsible in my current setting. I want to stop thinking so damn hard and breath deeply. I need rest from this lifestyle of intellectual criticism.
I need silence. I need help.
But, when I think about the consequences of such "freedom", my heart and mind scream...MYTH!!
This myth being the idea that senseless wondering and spontaneous adventures will in fact yield freedom. Freedom from the pains of thought and the realness of decision making. Many of us yearn for a life that is other than the one in which we find ourselves.
So, we escape. We run to the bathroom to cry...
or the couch to consume entertainment...
or the bottle to feel good for a time...
And the pattern continues. we run. we flee. we escape.
But here is the inconsistency: Escaping does not seem so much like freedom after it has become a pattern. We are enslaved to our "freedom".
Voices both in our heads and from others scream: What the hell is wrong with us?
"You gave your body to the lonely
They took your clothes
You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your goals"
"To be alone with me"
Jesus' understanding of freedom is something quite different than how I think about it most of the time. Freedom is humility. Through giving and lowering himself, Jesus showed us what freedom ought to look like.
Maybe curiosity and selflessness can be joined. Inquisitive Humility?
Saturday, April 25, 2009
What's good?
change in seasons.
lemonade and tea - mixed together!
roommate bonding.
finished papers...i should say, "turned in" papers.
being employed.
being unemployed.
a poster of Einstein riding a bike.
making gifts.
receiving gifts.
naps outside.
a huge box of illegally made DVDs.
silence.
analytical conversations with people i care about.
coffee and ice cream.
new things.
old things.
momentary peace.
hmmm...lots of things are good.
lemonade and tea - mixed together!
roommate bonding.
finished papers...i should say, "turned in" papers.
being employed.
being unemployed.
a poster of Einstein riding a bike.
making gifts.
receiving gifts.
naps outside.
a huge box of illegally made DVDs.
silence.
analytical conversations with people i care about.
coffee and ice cream.
new things.
old things.
momentary peace.
hmmm...lots of things are good.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
more.than.fear.
Tension. Conflict. Imbalance.
All of these words are fun. (not true)
But I can't escape them.
To be the Inspiration...Or the inspired?
This search is enjoyable. (also, not true)
But I love what happens inside of me.
Stories of entrepreneurs, artists, wanderers, creators, and dreamers are stories that I hold onto. I cherish them, I write them down, I live vicariously through them, and I share in admiring their work with others.
All of this to say, jealousy can often creep under my skin, and I am pleasantly reminded of my problem: I am fearful. Afraid of failure, afraid of danger, afraid to appear a fool, afraid to suffer, and afraid to be wrong. I am horrified of that which I cannot conquer. Or more accurately, I am afraid of that which I cannot appear to have conquered.
I am afraid to dance, to take the wrong step, to freeze...locked in foolishness. Afraid to stumble and afraid to trip. People might see that I suck. People I care about. People that I work really hard to impress and formulate a self-concept for them to admire.
May I see those I love as more than competition. May I see those I care about as worthy of more than my jealousy.
May you teach me to dance, to stumble and to one day...take a good step. To advance. To progress. To learn from my mistakes. To take risks. To laugh and live and dance freely. May you all teach me and make me better.
May I be thankful.
All of these words are fun. (not true)
But I can't escape them.
To be the Inspiration...Or the inspired?
This search is enjoyable. (also, not true)
But I love what happens inside of me.
Stories of entrepreneurs, artists, wanderers, creators, and dreamers are stories that I hold onto. I cherish them, I write them down, I live vicariously through them, and I share in admiring their work with others.
All of this to say, jealousy can often creep under my skin, and I am pleasantly reminded of my problem: I am fearful. Afraid of failure, afraid of danger, afraid to appear a fool, afraid to suffer, and afraid to be wrong. I am horrified of that which I cannot conquer. Or more accurately, I am afraid of that which I cannot appear to have conquered.
I am afraid to dance, to take the wrong step, to freeze...locked in foolishness. Afraid to stumble and afraid to trip. People might see that I suck. People I care about. People that I work really hard to impress and formulate a self-concept for them to admire.
May I see those I love as more than competition. May I see those I care about as worthy of more than my jealousy.
May you teach me to dance, to stumble and to one day...take a good step. To advance. To progress. To learn from my mistakes. To take risks. To laugh and live and dance freely. May you all teach me and make me better.
May I be thankful.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
ramblings tolerated
Familiar thoughts. Familiar places and people. I regularly reflect upon these images and memories. A friendly face, a favorite thinking spot, or a hurtful word that came from my lips, a bad habit I have formed.
Sometimes these things come to mind on purpose, sometimes not. Sometimes willingly, and sometimes with much hesitancy, and unfortunately sometimes I fight myself, doing everything I can to avoid certain familiar thoughts. A shouting match can occur.
Struggling with what to think. Struggling to keep on track. Struggling to dwell upon those things that I deem worthy and beneficial to ponder. Sometimes a song can trigger it. Sometimes I search it out, shuffling through my iPod for the perfect song, or scanning the web for that one topic or image. Searching, wondering, running, drastically longing, yearning, and all types of extremes. From apathy which leaves me depressingly frozen...to a frantic attempt to organize all of life's problems/contradictions/paradoxes/etc...
The Church has not always been a place where this type of thinking is welcome. Honestly, it has been my experience that it has rarely been a place where this type of struggling is seen as "normal". At best, it has been ignored.
I read an article by Will Braun in Geez magazine regarding a call for more pastors to lead their churches to be what they ought to be...
"There are times when we need a word of solace, when we need to be led to a place where we can rest our consciences and slowly begin to confess the impossibility and incomprehensibility of it all. A place where contradictions are tolerated – even contradictory assumptions – and where grace runs freely."
This is extremely hopeful to me. And as my cynicism often leaves me feeling empty...I thank God for my current community of faith, and for all the individuals in my life who offer comfort and peace amidst all the tension in my life.
I am thankful for peace. And for those striving to offer hope.
Sometimes these things come to mind on purpose, sometimes not. Sometimes willingly, and sometimes with much hesitancy, and unfortunately sometimes I fight myself, doing everything I can to avoid certain familiar thoughts. A shouting match can occur.
Struggling with what to think. Struggling to keep on track. Struggling to dwell upon those things that I deem worthy and beneficial to ponder. Sometimes a song can trigger it. Sometimes I search it out, shuffling through my iPod for the perfect song, or scanning the web for that one topic or image. Searching, wondering, running, drastically longing, yearning, and all types of extremes. From apathy which leaves me depressingly frozen...to a frantic attempt to organize all of life's problems/contradictions/paradoxes/etc...
The Church has not always been a place where this type of thinking is welcome. Honestly, it has been my experience that it has rarely been a place where this type of struggling is seen as "normal". At best, it has been ignored.
I read an article by Will Braun in Geez magazine regarding a call for more pastors to lead their churches to be what they ought to be...
"There are times when we need a word of solace, when we need to be led to a place where we can rest our consciences and slowly begin to confess the impossibility and incomprehensibility of it all. A place where contradictions are tolerated – even contradictory assumptions – and where grace runs freely."
This is extremely hopeful to me. And as my cynicism often leaves me feeling empty...I thank God for my current community of faith, and for all the individuals in my life who offer comfort and peace amidst all the tension in my life.
I am thankful for peace. And for those striving to offer hope.
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