I Just Want to Play

I am an eight year old trapped in a twenty seven-year old's body. I really just would like to play now, please. But I have 3 weeks of class and about 10 papers left to write. (Along with many, many other non-academic projects due.) I'm learning that I get things done most efficiently when I can do something fun at the same time. I have to con myself into finishing projects by multi-tasking play in the midst of the work.

For the last couple of weeks, I've been actually growing excited when it's time to listen to my online lectures! Do you know what I do while I listen to hour long lectures? I make recycled envelopes! It really does seem to help me listen more critically if I can simultaneously play with scissors, glue, and weird paper/maps/liner-notes. I'm afraid I'm regressing from grad school to pre-K.

Lately people have been mistaking me for much younger. A week or two ago, this lady said, "Oh! I really want you to meet my friend! She's just your age...wait...how old are you?"

"27."

"Oh! Well, she's about 20 or 21. But when are you going to start looking your age, darling!"

It doesn't bother me much. I'm afraid of growing up and growing boring.

(Kids playing in the rainbow photo by Brimley).

Why Björk Will Never Act Again

Dancer in the Dark premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2000. At the Cannes, the film was awarded the festival's most prestigious Palme d'Or award, while Björk won best actress. Unless you're a fan of rather obscure indies, this film probably flew under your radar screen. But Dancer in the Dark has affected me more than most any other film, particularly in how I imagine the Cross.

The film is a modern musical drama that is both horrific and wonderful. Björk composed and performed the entire soundtrack, Selmasongs, with a guest album appearance by Radiohead's Thom Yorke. The soundtrack is stunning and emotive.

You may remember Björk from her swan-studded performance at the Academy Awards in 2000. Her song "I Have Seen it All" from Dancer in the Dark gained a nomination. Known for her innovative and complex musical compositions, starring in a motion picture was a first for the Icelandic singer-songwriter. And, Björk said, it would also be her last. After seeing this film, and the emotional brutality of it all, you can't blame her.

Director Lars von Trier uses hand-held cameras through much of the movie to give it the look of a gritty documentary. And gritty, it is. This is not a film for the faint of heart.

Selma is a single mother and Czech immigrant. Plagued by a hereditary disease that slowly degenerates her sight into blindness, she is equally plagued by the knowledge that her young son will likewise eventually go blind. And so, Selma works night and day in a factory, saving every penny that she might pay for her son to receive a restorative surgery. All this, that he might see.

Dancer in the Dark speaks to me of the grit of authentic love. It is a story of sacrifice and pain, with much beauty in between. I see Christ all throughout it's scenes, particularly in the simple gentleness of Selma, in her agonizing selflessness, and in the outstanding creations of the soundtrack. The climax is terrible, having seen it would cause you to reflect on Calvary in unique and haunting ways.

Although there are obvious portraits of the road to Golgotha in this film, I am most moved by the raw and awful beauty throughout. Björk's artistic performance is riveting--as actor and as composer/singer--and is dripping with the creativity of the Uncreated One. It is in these unsuspecting discs of overlooked independent films and music where I most appreciate encountering the aroma of Jesus.

This month's synchroblog is focused on Christianity and Film. Check out the smart and witty things the other synchros are saying on the matter:

Steve Hayes ponders The Image of Christianity in Films
Adam Gonnerman pokes at The Spider's Pardon
David Fisher thinks that
Jesus Loves Sci-Fi
John Morehead considers Christians and Horror Redux: From Knee-Jerk Revulsion to Critical Engagement
Marieke Schwartz lights it up with
Counter-hegemony: Jesus loves Borat
Mike Bursell muses about Christianity at the Movies
Cobus van Wyngaard contemplates Theology and Film (as art)
Tim Abbott tells us to
Bring your own meaning...?
Sonja Andrews visits The Good,
The Bad, and The Ugly: Christ in Spaghetti Westerns
Steve Hollinghurst takes a stab at The Gospel According to Buffy
Les Chatwin insists We Don't Need Another Hero
Lance Cummings says The Wooden Wheel Keeps Turning
John Smulo weaves a tale about Spiderman 3 and the Shadow
Josh Rivera spells well with
Christian Witchcraft
Phil Wyman throws out the Frisbee: Time to Toss it Back
Sally Coleman is Making Connections- films as a part of a mythological tradition
Dr. Kim Paffenroth investigates Nihilism Lite

Take That, Terps

I just got word that the UMBC Lacrosse team beat the pants off of the University of Maryland to enter the quarter-finals of the NCAA championship. This is huge news for Baltimore! And for the ever-underdog UMBC Retrievers. As a UMBC Golf team alum, I remember no other rival than the Maryland Terps, the Uni I affectionately termed "the over-funded behemoth 30 miles to our south." Let's go Dogs!

Helpful translation guide for non-Baltimorons:
1. In Baltimore, lacrosse is way bigger than collegiate football.
2. UMBC = U. of Maryland, Baltimore County, a mid-size research university, and the Nelly's alma mater.

(Photo: Mike Millchanowski)

From an Old Kitchen Window

I'm not sure if you've ever felt caught in between worlds, but I do. I've been in the States since September, but my heart still walks on water back to our apartment in Portugal. (The photo above was taken from our old kitchen window, in between the yellow curtains.) Rachel was one of my roommates in that old apartment, and she has been feeling the same. She's just written a lovely poem about the strange haunting of being kept up at night by good memories. Take a trip over to her Nashville blog. Rachel's words work faster than an Air Portugal flight in taking me back to Lisbon.

Mommy Blogger Crosses Atlantic!

I've just nominated the legendary Lisa Borden in the Blogger's Choice Awards.

Category: Hottest Mommy Blogger.

Perfect? Perfect! Hurry up and go vote for her. Especially because, as of today, all of Lisa's posts will be from Tanzania! Where else can you get a look at the inside of a wild household migrating from Europe to Africa (via Pasadena)...one that is so wild for Jesus, and wild with Hope?

Vote for Lisa's blog here: "Let's Put the Kettle On" is Hot, Man!

Lisa's blog: Let's Put the Kettle On
And the blog of Wild Hope:
Telling African Stories As They Live Them

I also voted for:
Andrew Jones, the Tall Skinny Kiwi (Best Blog of All Time) and John Smulo, in Smulospace (Best Religious Blog)

Ajuda Me

A few nights ago I dreamt that I was back at a cafe in Portugal, ordering pastries and coffee in the early evening. It was the first dream I've had in a long while where I was speaking Portuguese, not English. After ordering my milky galao, the sassy-pants barista demanded that I order an aperitif instead of a coffee, on account of the hour of the day. I can't imagine this ever happening in Portugal. It was as if I were in Italy (where I can imagine this happening) and was reprimanded for ordering a cappuccino too late in the day. Flustered, I did my best to apologize for my huge social blunder.

But then, the nightmare. I couldn't remember how to say "I'm sorry" in Portuguese. All I could get out of my mouth was "mi dispiache," which is the Italian.

To make matters more weird, numerous days later (in real life), I still can't remember what the Portuguese is for "I'm sorry." I lived there for over 3 years, and all I can think of is the Italian! Granted, the last thing I did before I moved from Portugal back to America was to take a 2-week intermediate Italian class in Florence. But still. I'm troubled. Somebody ajuda me.

(Photo of the lovely Costa da Caparica: Dsevilla)

Flying Red Pens

Tonight, red pens were a-flying in my room. We are studying 1 Timothy in my Fuller class. Oh, the legendary first letter to Timothy! The book that has caused many a woman to have imaginary boxing-matches with St. Paul over his apparent misogyny!

Well, N.T. Wright is helping me see Paul in a whole new light. I'm not so mad at him anymore. But, we'll save that talk for another post.

I must say, I find it awfully inconsistent that the folk who stand firmly on Timothy's famous directives against female leadership ("a woman should not teach a man") do not also stand on the other directives in the same passage. (That all men should pray with hands lifted up in the air, for example!)

As I read 1 Timothy 3:11 and Romans 16:1 in a few different translations tonight, I ended up throwing my red pen and shouting aloud in frustration.

Why? Because both of these verses show the likelihood of there being female leaders ("deaconesses") in the early church, and yet, the majority of English translations fail to fairly reflect this possibility. Some bury it in footnotes, and others--like my current favorite, the New King James--do not give any indication at all of this probability in the Greek.

Meet Phoebe, in Romans 16:1:

I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a servant of the church in Cenchrea. (NKJV)

I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon [a] of the church in Cenchreae.
Footnotes: Or servant (TNIV)

The vast majority of English translations side with Phoebe as a (vague-sounding) "servant," though the Greek is diakonia, offering the probability that Phoebe was a deacon. The nice new TNIV shows this clearly, while others do not. Check your Bibles, kids!

I've finally begun to wrap my mind around some of the texts that have centuries long been used in the church as arguments against women in pastoral leadership. More than ever, as I learn of the context of 1 Timothy, I am persuaded that this letter was written to address issues that were specific to a set time and place. And I am persuaded, from the design of Genesis, and the whole of Scripture that it is God's intention for men and women to work in partnership.

I must say, it feels good to throw pens when frustrated.

(Photo by: Mr. Wright.)

Your Mom

(File under: not-boring e-cards: Hipster Cards)

Road Trippin' to Frostburg

On Thursday I took a nice long drive through Maryland--from La Plata to Frostburg. (If MD looks like a raggedy pistol, I started at the trigger and ended up near the pistol tip.) The mountains were really incredible. I forget how much I'm an introvert until I have these long-drives to myself that shoot energy into my veins. And with a hot Volkswagon stick-shift that isn't even mine! (Thanks, Patty.)

I drove up to Frostburg State University to share my story with the nice folks at Intervarsity Christian Fellowship. The unexpected sharing-deal came through some cute little connections with people, and IVCF being open to all kinds of guests.

I talked a lot about pain, healing, and the Psalms. And that we all have a story to share, and when we do, we're inviting God to do the same good things in the lives of people around us.

I tried my best to put aside the fact that it didn't make much sense to drive almost 7 hours to talk for only 20 minutes. It was nice to hang out with some of them at a diner afterwards. (I really love diners.) I hope that I'll keep getting to know a one or two of the gals through the wonders of email/Facebook. And oh! someone even gave me two of their favorite CDs for my drive home!

It was a nice little break from the pace of things.

B-sides on Time - Take 4

I can't pretend that I've gotten any better at managing my time. If anything, I've just been able to prioritize things a little smarter. I've been trying to use a spreadsheet to chart out what "debt" I have (weighty undone tasks), in the same way that I've been using a spreadsheet for my finances.

A wise woman once told me that I didn't need a new organizational system. I just need a system that I'll actually use, she said. I figured since the money-sheet is working for me, maybe I could translate it to how I use my time. Well, I'm still horrendously behind in many things, but it does feel nice to slowly chip away at those things I "owe."

A month or two ago, I really felt God seriously urging me to stay ahead of my assignments in my Fuller classes this quarter. Doing so would allow me to walk in freedom. For various reasons, I haven't done that. (At all.) And now I feel like I'm held hostage by all that's still left undone.

In all of this measuring and plotting and planning, I came across these words of Mother Teresa:

Intense love does not measure, it just gives.

I want to "pay down the debt" of time owed to certain projects and assignments so that I can be more free to give, to love. If I'm really honest, when I'm wrestling with over-due tasks, I usually fail to love my family well. In fact, I'm a big jerk. And that makes me sad.

For far too long I've hidden behind procrastination, pretending it to be a banner of freedom. I think procrastination has been the symptom of my unruly addiction to independence. Sweet Jesus have mercy.

(Photo: "Love is a Mixed Tape")

B-sides on Time - Take 3

I recently spent some time visiting a young woman in a hospital bed. She'd gone into labor with her first child and delivered a still-born boy. I was at a loss for words. So was she. I just tried to stand there in the sadness with her and the father, resisting the temptation to leave early, because for me it was awkwardly uncomfortable.

And tonight I'm going to the funeral of a friend's grandfather. I have Moses' song on my mind again. When I was in college I scribbled this verse on a piece of paper and put it by my light switch:

Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

I live as if these minutes, hours, and moments are all mine. I even live as if I'm entitled to them. But then an untimely death makes us wake up to life.

I'm desperate to live myself into the words of Moses' song. (I love the idea of really singing for joy and being glad all of my days.) Sometimes, though, I don't need songs. Sometimes I just need direct words, or a borderline rebuke. Ol' James is always good for that:

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. James 4:14

(Street Art Photo: Tania.Paz)

B-sides on Time - Take 2

I'm beginning to see that I deal with time (i.e. "gettin' things done) the way I've often dealt with money. I sigh at things inwardly and whisper, "I'll deal with you later," acting as if I'm too cool to care.

Of course I care. But I tend to avoid sizing-up the damage until later.

Emotionally, I'm quite the opposite. I deal with things that are stirring in me the instant I feel them. And if I can't do so immediately, I feel like I'm going mad. I don't like those things lingering untouched. That's probably why I'm such a confronter. (Go team.)

Since March, I've managed to exceeed my plan for paying down debt and paying "up" savings by about 15%. This is great news for one who struggles with follow through! Now, if I could just translate that to my time, I'd be one healthy pup. And my life would be simplified by the removal of inner guilt that inevitably comes with piles of things left undone. That guilty stuff is like plaque in the arteries.

(Photo by: Steve the Alien)

B-sides on Time - Take 1

When I was a little girl, I was horrifically afraid of throat cultures. I was really quite a sight to see. The doctor would be poised and ready with his long cotton swab, and I'd freak out and insist that we stop and that my Mama pray for me, the nurse pray for me, anyone! even you, doc, pray for me!

My doctors were always (understandably) irritated by my tantrums. Sometimes it'd take a half-hour to get me to calm down long enough for the guy to cotton swab the back of my swollen throat.

I distinctly remember what one doctor said about me after one of my freak-out episodes. I'm still unsure why he said this, except that maybe he'd never before encountered such an annoyingly strong will to resist the throat-swab.

"She is a type-A child."

Looking at myself today, I can't imagine a more imprecise description of me. (I even wonder if I've grown up rebelling against this doctor's assumption?) In fact, sometimes I'm such a Type-B personality that I can't seem to get anything done. (And it doesn't bother me much either, some of the time.) I pretty much think the Western world needs to relax a bit. Put on some reggae or something.

Maybe I'm more of a mix between the A/B worlds, but I'm definitely more on the B-side. What side are you?

Well, regardless, I've created a new project to begin managing my time better. I think I'm going to post about it over the next few days, because I finally feel like I'm beginning to grow up in this area of my life. And that feels nice.

(Photo by: Claudecf)

[Silenzio]

A School House

I had a pleasant trip up north to see Mates of State. Wish I could've encouraged the crowd at Messiah College to bounce a little more, though. (Maybe they think Jesus doesn't dance. I dunno.) Turns out the show was a benefit for Invisible Children in Uganda. That made me happy.

Since I was in Baltimore this afternoon I had the chance see my longtime friend, Kristin. It was so nice to hold her handsome newborn baby, Brendan. Kristin was a mentor and older sister to me all throughout college. It worked out fine that she was in grad school for counseling all the while I was the wreck of the Titanic and needed her to counsel me. Kris is one of the most excellent listeners on the planet. She taught me how to not be such a "strong girl," and to learn how to feel all over again. It's nice to hold her babies now that she's all grown up.

I got pretty teary tonight as I asked Jesus to bless Kristin real good. I realized all at once how much of her I've brought with me into my friendships. She left me a path of clear footprints to try to follow, particularly in the shape of learning to listen to people, and in some basic counseling skills.

Friendships are such nice school houses to sit in. The notes on the chalkboard get written all over our manners and memories, sometimes without us even noticing.

(Photo: "Following")

Definitive Band for Spring

Some say Spring is the season of love. For me, Spring is the season of great bands on tour! Tomorrow night I'm driving up to PA to see the illustrious Mates of State, the definitive Spring band. Why, you ask? Because Mates of State combine rock and love and still make everybody dance. (Kori and Jason are married. So this is one two-piece with quite an onstage dynamic.)

I don't think there's a band I've enjoyed live more than Mates of State. (Over the Rhine is a close second, another husband/wife band.) Their tunes are spilling with fun, each ready to surprise with quirky progression changes. And the tickets are somehow still cheap. How lovely is indie. Click here to read more and download some MP3s that will make you grin.



I was happy to find out that Kori is now blogging about life as a rock-mom. Their little one, Magnolia, often comes with them on the road. I appreciate that they prove to the world that you can live your dreams, be artful, and still be good parents, all at the same time:

"It seems we can't make the rockers happy because we are happily married, and we can't make the normal family people happy because our kids might know what a soundcheck is...On this tour, we've seen parents bringing their kids to shows, kids making T-shirts for bands, and next month we're going to see a couple family bands that play for other families..."

(Photos by Presta.)

If Prayer is Like Boxing

There are moments when I see prayer as a restful thing. There are other seasons where it feels like I am struggling against things unseen, and it requires me to focus like an athlete. I've felt like that in the last week or two. I'm grateful for the rest, but I'm also grateful for the wrestling. The sweat reminds me I'm alive. Jesus sweat blood once when he prayed. Jacob busted his hip. Now that's struggle.

On Thursday I was running and praying at the gym. Among many other things, I talked to Jesus about the the husband-man I'd like to have one day. As I was staring toward the big red punching bag at the other end of the gym, I found a nice metaphor. Yes. I'd like this guy of mine to be tough in prayer like an experienced boxer. I want to learn new movements of prayer next to him: throwing punches at the evil one, wrestling, waiting on God. It will be good for me to develop spiritual muscles in areas that were once just baby fat.

But in the meantime, I am trying to learn everything I can from whomever seems to have been in the ring a bit longer than me.

I watched one guy attack the red punching bag tirelessly, like he really knew what he was doing: five right hooks, five left hooks, five one-two's, five body-punches. He looked like he was having so much fun. I tried to mentally track his routine so that I could do it, too. (And so my metaphor grows.)

Today after my workout I put on the black Everlast gloves and threw a few right and left hooks at the punching bag. The one-two's tired me out. But oh! it was more fun than I can explain.

(Photo "Jesus is Strong" by Szen Volta.)

Peregrine

per·e·grine /ˈpɛrɪgrɪn, -ˌgrin, -ˌgraɪn/
–adjective
1. foreign; alien; coming from abroad.
2. wandering, traveling, or migrating.
–noun
3. peregrine falcon.

I just got The Appleseed Cast's new record, Peregrine. I had to look up what peregrine means, and am now pleased to find a new adjective for my heart.

This record is keeping me awake so that I can study Romans for my NT class. Each track is brimming with these sweeping atmospheric rock melodies infused with tinges of acoustic bliss. Their stuff is just as beautiful as I remembered it from when I heard them play in a tiny bar in Baltimore, back in college. I squeezed into the room with a boy I had a massive ridiculous crush on, and the band mesmerized us on an almost-broken stage. At least the crush was a lesson in discovering good music. I'm amazed that seven years later, The Appleseed Cast is still swooping low under the radar. Guess that makes them a bit of a musical peregrine.

It's not so often I find a record to (literally) put on repeat, but this is definitely one of them. You can stream some of Peregrine from here: The Appleseed Cast.

Growing Up A Little

I had such a nice day yesterday. There's nothing like sharing a good meal and a great band with dear friends. Especially friends who live on a different continent. I didn't sleep one singular wink Thursday night. I'm such a kid. I was so excited for it to be Friday that I couldn't sleep. Coffee + Jesus + adrenaline = Who needs sleep?

With all the changes coming in my life soon, I'm happy to just learn better how to be God's daughter. It's so much simpler. I really enjoy being a kid, but lately I feel like he's been helping me grow up in little ways. Like learning how to put money in my savings account and really actually following my get out of debt plan. He's so nice and helps me when I mess up. Great Dad, he is.

(Photo by B tal)

Oh, Happy Friday

I am a happy girl. Tomorrow I'm driving up to seaside Annapolis for a class to learn how to start doing some zany web design. Years ago in Portugal, I started using Dreamweaver MX, but wasn't very good at updating my old hellosaidjenelle.com site. (I hope this bloggy thing will get me back into the groove. over 101 posts = good sign.) Soon I'd like to start designing my own site again. If I'm any good at it, I'll help others do the same. My Dad paid for the course because he thinks it'll be good for my creative juices. (What a great Daddy.)

And and and! After the class I'm meeting sweet Jane and Martin in old towne Annapolis! (In case you don't know, this is a very rare occurance, because they live a world away in Prague! Jane and I lived together in Portugal as we held down the Young Life fort in Lisbon. Now she's married to Martin and they're working with Czech kiddos.) So nice.

As if that weren't enough, the three of us are going to see one of my all-time favorite bands, Over the Rhine! Happy Friday!

Renew Us

I think we could all use a hopeful song right about now.

My dear friend Elise just recorded her newest song, "Renew." I am amazed by it. (I'm amazed by her.) I told her that listening to it has the effect of being surprised by sudden warm winds, like the Santa Ana's in a California autumn.

See if you can listen to her song and not find yourself smiling at the end. Click here to listen. Elise Witek played the guitar and sang lead vocals, Sarah Halford sang the soprano vocals, and Allyson Arendsee played the piano.

If you are a lover of words (I am), you'll want to read these. You may even like to pray them, when you're all out of your own words:

"Renew"
by Elise Witek

Been walking around for years
But still unborn
Success plastered on a tree with lights adorned

Staring through the pines, see a hollow trunk inside

Will you renew? Will you renew? Will you renew joy?

Swords growing dull
Rusting in the rain
The battle's already won, but can't see the gain

Paralyzed by fear,
Paralyzed by pride,
Paralyzed by the thought that we're the god of our lives.

Will you renew? Will you renew? Will you renew us?

I've been dying ever since the day I was born
Longing to see fire where marrow has formed
I listen to a Voice that's never told a lie
So why should I deny that you will renew?

Will you renew?
Will you renew?
Will you renew us?

(Photo by: Gep)

Hands Falling

In the moment when we hear horrific news, the hands seem to fall off the clock. Everything that seemed important stops. In those moments I've often chosen to turn my eyes away with a conciliatory "oh that's awful," in order to hastily get the clock working again. As if to say, "things must keep moving." But that is not the way the Master teaches me to enter into other people's pain.

Today when I heard about the massacre at Virginia Tech, I was tempted to keep gawking at the TV News. I thought of friends I have at nearbye Virginia schools like JMU and UVA, and imagined how many friends they have at Tech. But the News is so terribly cyclical and fear-inducing. And my imagination is often fruitless.

Somehow, in a moment of grace, I walked away from the TV and let my own hands fall as my knees to pray. (This is not as normal an inclination as I wish.) There were lots of "I don't know"'s that I stammered, as I tried praying through a certain Psalm. And I asked that as people grieve and mourn and wail, that they'd do so turning towards God, rather than away from Him. I prayed that they'd realize how much He can handle our difficult questions, and that He won't turn us away. But I mostly prayed for restoration, and for the hard work of forgiveness and healing.

I remember the example of the forgiving legacy of the Amish, and so have a measure of hope for the Tech family.

(Photo: "Walk a Timeless Warning" by PrASanGaM.)

Jackie Pullinger Rocks my iPod

Today I listened to a rickety old mp3 by Jackie Pullinger. (It must've been transferred from 8-track to tape to mp3 because the recording was just horrible.) But, oh! her incredible stories from life in the streets of Hong Kong were like an intravenous dose of dripping faith into my spirit. Woooo! Jackie Pullinger is hardcore. She's also a sassy thing. I giggled aloud listening to her go.

She was illustrating the truth that God allows us to speak (pathetically) about him as he draws men and women to Himself. And that we ought to change our pitiful "bless me" prayers to "oh! let me partner with you in what you're already doing." Her message invited me to take myself less seriously, and to take prayer much more seriously. (And to really value my own private prayer in tongues, too.)

I loved the story of when Jackie was sharing the gospel at a Chinese dinner-party. One of the men fell asleep just as she started speaking. But the moment he awoke he said (ever so oddly), "I must accept Jesus now."

When questioned later, he said, "When the lady started talking, I thought, 'I don't need to listen anymore,' so I just went to sleep. I started dreaming, and Jesus came to me and said, 'It's time for you to stop resisting me, and to accept me.' And so, when I woke up, that's the first thing I knew I needed to do."

Download lots of rickety-old Jackie Pullinger messages here and get your sweet soul rocked: Sermon Index.

(iPod image HT: Foread on Flickr)

Persecution or Poor Elocution?

(this is a) PREFACE:
Today's synchro-blog on "Persecution and Christian Suffering" was inspired by a series of awful events. One of our fellow synchro-bloggers, David Fisher, was recently removed from the leadership at his church, mostly on the basis of David's links within, and his writing in the blogosphere about the need for church-reform. I'm cheering David on, knowing that he's still taking risks to live simply and missionally, despite the pain of being misunderstood by those who are supposed to be as family.

I can remember being fifteen and feeling like a dork because I was trying to follow Jesus in a public high school. Sometimes I'd get together with my Christian cronies and talk about how we were being "persecuted for Jesus." If someone laughed at us, we could throw around the "p" word and it'd make us feel better.

A few weeks ago I got in heated discussion with a friend about gay rights. He was sure that to contend and fight that "homosexuality is a sin!" would get one "persecuted." He insisted that we shouldn't care about political correctness, and that in fact, Jesus promised we'd be persecuted! I bled out a snappy-reply, to the effect of, "that doesn't make you persecuted, that just makes you ignorant." My frustration turned to sadness when I shared through my tears about my gay friends who've been more bruised and beaten by the Church than any others. And how our pointy-fingers get in the way of introducing the real Jesus to people just as broken as we. And why don't we just as vehemently jump up and down and formulate legislation for our sick sins of greed, lust, and selfishness?

I think that we in the West have a penchant for playing the victim. And we as Christians play the victim the worst when we throw around the word, "persecution," as if it's a holy trophy. Without undermining the legitimate suffering that many have felt for the Name of Jesus in the West, I confess for all of us that all too often, our elocution concerning persecution is way off. And our poor use of language is a type of a curse towards those hundreds of thousands who are daily being tortured, beaten, and imprisoned for the Name.

I can remember being in Carpinteria for the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, and praying with Elise and Sarah for feeling to return to the Western church, that our comfortable numbness would die and that we'd really feel the pain that so many others in the Body feel. If only we were more connected somehow, we could really learn from each other about suffering.

Today when I read the story of a young Chinese woman on Prisoner Alert (Voice of the Martyrs), something was stirred in me. She has been imprisoned in China since 2001 for being the editor of an underground church magazine. A young woman following Jesus, trying to make words fit nicely in print. Thrown in jail, as a writer.

With a few clicks, a printer, and some stamps, Prisoner Alert helped me write an encouraging letter to the young woman, even translating it into the characters of her native tongue. As I wrote, "You are counted worthy to suffer for His name," some of the numbness left me, and I cried. But rather than seeing her as a victim, these were victory tears. For her and for Him. And even, for me, as I feel slightly more connected to my Body.

The young lady's mother reported that the prison warden has asked, "Do you have many relatives in America?" Because of this simple site, thousands of encouraging notes have been sent to her over the last 6 years, and countless prayers surround her. There are many others like her. Check out Prisoner Alert and take a minute to send an encouraging letter to someone imprisoned for the Name, to pray for them, and even send an email to a government official asking for their release.


And don't forget to check out the other synchrobloggers below...
(Clown Image HT: Peskymac)

Synchroblog List on Persecution

The April synchro-blog team is writing on Persecution and Christian Suffering. Check out the wide variety of perspectives and rich stories here:

David Fisher - Be the Revolution
Fishing for Trouble - Square No More
Mike Bursell - Mike's Musings
Restoring Our View of Humanity - Eternal Echoes
Persecuting the Marginalized - JohnSmulo.com
The Ends Justify the Means - Calacirian
Billy Calderwood - Billy Calderwood
Seeking First Righteousness - Tim Abbott
Jamie Swann - More Than Stone
Persecution and Martyrdom - Handmaid Leah
"Don't squash the counter-revolutionary/the plank in my own eye" - Jeremiah
The Martyrs of Epinga - Notes from the Underground
Terrorism in Christianity - The Rivera Blog

At the Cross

Tonight in Sofia, Bulgaria, my friend Brooke is sharing about the power of the cross with a bunch of International and Euro teens. Above is a combination of five canvases that her husband Tate painted as illustrations for each of Brooke's nightly messages. She'll smoosh all the canvases together to portrait the Father reaching to the world through His Son. It's such a nice illustration.

If you are a praying-type, now would be a nice time to ask the Holy Ghost to do wonderful healing things in the hearts and minds of all those teenagers.

These days the thing I'm bringing to the cross most often is my independence. I want to learn what it means to live in healthy interdependence between myself and God, and myself and others. Most of my life I think I've tended to live in psychotic polarization: either acting as if I don't need anyone, or being emotionally addicted to my closest friends. I have so much to learn. In the meantime, I don't want to hide behind my independent-spirit, any longer.

Gospel Choir 101

I think I need more gospel choirs in my life. Today for our Easter celebration we were led in worship by a small gospel choir from folks in our congregation. It was so lovely and quite celebratory. As much as I love acoustic guitars and earth instruments in worship, there's something about clapping aloud and feeling a part of the big choir. Gospel music sort of insists that you sway and move. And sweat a little while you're singing. I like that sort of worship.

I often overlook the fact that South Potomac Church has such a blend of races worshipping within her. I am grateful to have this short season of my life back in this hometown church.

Shangri-la! This is my 101st post. Happy Day. Jesus lives.

(Choir HT: Dogseat on Flickr and the Stop-Shopping Church Choir!!)

Stunned Saturday in Sofia

Tonight, in Sofia, Bulgaria my dear friend Brooke is reflecting on Jesus with around 250 postmodern teenagers. Brooke is the speaker for Young Life Europe's annual service project, a week-long camping experience to invite skeptics and non-skeptics into the adventure of serving the poor. Over the next week these international students from all of over Europe will help build playgrounds and work in Bulgarian orphanages. At night, all 250 will pack into a room for a Young Life club of carefully organized chaos. The pinnacle of each evening is Brooke's talk on the person of Jesus.

While I worked with Young Life in Europe I had the opportunity to take students from Portugal to 2 of these service projects, in Romania and the Czech Republic. I know that this week holds the possibility of enormous life-transformation in the lives of these students. My heart is still with Sarah, Will, and Stefanie, as they've just arrived in Bulgaria with a group of students from Portugal.

Brooke's husband, Tate, painted a bunch of canvases like the one above to use as part of her creative illustrations throughout the week. (Tate is also in Bulgaria leading his group of students from the UK.) Tonight Brooke opens with a talk from Mark 2, when Jesus heals (and forgives!) the paralytic who was lowered through the roof by his wild friends. The scene ends with everyone wondering aloud, "We've never seen anything like this." Tonight, Brooke will be challenging these postmodern minds to begin taking a fresh look at Jesus.

I'd like it if you locked arms with me in praying for Brooke and for these spiritually-starved European kids, especially as I post little reminders over this week.

I'm not sure why we don't celebrate today as a Holy Day. Maybe we could call it Stunned Saturday, and thank the Father that he always stands with us in the midst of our uncertainty. I'm sure on that sad Saturday the disciples were stunned silent and angry at God. I'm sure they found all of the Psalms that asked, "Where are you God?" and either whispered or screamed them aloud. I bet they remembered the days when Jesus stunned the crowds, like he did in Mark 2. May we all become more at home with all of our uncertainty, as we remember that He is still remarkably near us in our grief.

To Recreate Us

I often have trouble feeling particularly contemplative on the Holy Days. I think it's this rebellious strain in me that wants to find all the days holy. (And, just my rebellious pride, probably.) Today while I was running I decided that a simple song by Sufjan Stevens would be my Good Friday praise refrain. It's called Chicago. It makes me think of my black heart and how happy I am that Jesus still fights for it.

if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes

you came to take us
(all things go, all things go)
to recreate us
(all things grow, all things grow)
we had our mindset
(all things know, all things know)
you had to find it
(all things go, all things go)

You can listen to the song here. (Or get the whole record: Come on, Feel the Illinoise!)

Reflections on the 24-7 Prayer Movement

Our church just finished up doing a 40-hour prayer room in my office. Paint, prayers, and holy words are splattered all over the paper covering my walls. They are the earnest prayers of twelve year olds, twenty year olds, and retirees. They are the prayers of families, mamas, and tweens. I never want to take it down.

But that's what I always say at the end of a prayer week. The scraps of paper and the art supplies strewn around the room are like ancient relics. They are altar-like signposts that declare, in simple ways, that God's presence met us.

Ever since this sacred virus of 24-7 prayer got in me, I've found a new freedom to meet with God. Yesterday a wise mama-type in my hometown was helping me debrief on my life in Portugal, asking where it seems God is taking me next. As I talked about the 24-7 prayer movement, she asked, "So, what have you learned about prayer?"

I said, "I've learned that it's much more fun that I ever imagined."

24-7 prayer has taught me how free I can be before God, and how much He longs to meet with us.

I was twenty-three and spiritually exhausted when I found myself signing up for my first one-hour "prayer watch" in Portugal. The Borden's and Uhlers' converted Marty's office into a sacred space, and we dared to devote ourselves to a week of non-stop prayer. That first hour went by like 5 minutes, so I signed up for another. And then, another, this time for one of those insane (but wonderfully still) 3am spots. Before we knew it, the whole week was filled, and people were arm-wrestling for spots on the last day.

God gave me some tender words from Isaiah during my time in that prayer room. I'll never forget what it felt like to scribble them on the walls in blue pastel, and then to write poems in between the lines in black ink. I wept over those words. God had met me in a simple room with paper-covered walls. And here was my altar, built by messy pastels and smeared ink.

I couldn't bear to see those words thrown in the Portuguese rubbish at the end of the week, so I ripped it down, and the paper sits framed in my room today.

Since that first prayer room in Portugal, I've had the pleasure of being a small part of 24-7 prayer rooms in Milan, Naples, the Netherlands, Kansas City, Santa Barbara, and now even in little La Plata. My dream is to see this movement of prayer stirred in Italy in a mighty way.

This week, in 11 countries all around the world, at least 42 groups of people are praying, non-stop, with the dream of knowing more of Jesus, and Him sending them out to love others in His stead. In 8 years, with hardly any budget to speak of, there are 24-7 prayer rooms in 65 countries. Truly, this is a move of the Spirit of God! Especially when you consider that this movement of prayer is largely composed of young people.

A few nights ago, during our 40-hour room, I opened up the prayer-room door to 2 sweet twelve-year old girls, Annie and Alleigh, coming to pray at the midnight hour.

Now, think back to your middle school years. Can you imagine signing up for an hour of prayer with your best friend, at midnight?

Annie and Alleigh came out at 1am giggling (and in desperate need of hot-cocoa), as they had landed a fair amount of paint on their clothes during their wild expressions to the Father.

"Battle scars, that's what the paint really is," I told Annie's grinning mama.

If you're moved at all, go to the 24-7 Prayer Global site to read more and consider giving to this growing movement. And check out what Lisa is saying about 24-7 Prayer, too!

Stinky Feet Theory

I have this new theory. I think that traveling sets off a strange chemical reaction in the laboratory of our shoes that emits a stronger-than-normal-foot-odor. Or maybe I just need to throw away my favorite "travel shoes." Either way, my post-travel stank is really amazing.

I've just returned from a renegade 3-day trip (back) to Pasadena to help out Christian Associates do some recruiting at Fuller's Missions Fair. I spent two full days talking with seminary students about the spiritual needs of Europe, and how they might take some risks with their future. I really enjoyed it, especially because I got to meet folks at my school that I normally miss in my online classes. The whole deal was a totally unexpected gift of a trip, especially to stay with the amazing Klein family, and see the Borden's one last time before they are Tanzania-ified.

Doing the recruiting-stuff gave me some inklings for a possible fun part-time job with CAI in the fall. (Here's a rad quicktime movie that gives of snapshot of CAI's vision for church-planting in Europe.) Pray, pray, and we'll see.

In the meantime I'll be asking myself the question: "Why, oh why, do my traveling feet stink?"

(Thanks for the photo of baby Gabby, B K & G.)

Not Bad For Twelve Days

Here's an update on my CNBC million dollar challenge. My portfolio says that in the last 12 days, my (faux) stock holdings have increased over $50,000! 5% gains in less than 2 weeks. And all that from only the companies I use and believe in. My Dad keeps congratulating me on how well I've invested/traded my fake money. If only it were this easy with the real deal. I can't wait till I'm totally debt free and free to give more away.

Our church staff is reading The Purpose Driven Church together, and, regardless of my thoughts on church, I keep thinking of how cool it is that Rick Warren gives away 90% of his income, after making all that dough on his books.

The Nelly will now be giving fair-trade stock advice for the small price of buying her a cup of good coffee. (Charles Schwabby, eat your heart out.)

(Thanks to Flickr lady P.Mitchell for sharing the Nasdaq photo.)

(Re)Imagining Youth Ministry

This weekend I drove up to Baltimore for a Young Life staff training day. As a former YL staffer in Portugal, this was a rare treat, 'cause I was invited to teach on contextualizing ministry to a particular youth culture. Humbled and excited, I was also totally knackered/shattered. I arrived completely bleary-eyed on caffeine, having only slept 3 hours the night before (see also: finals week). But sweet Wanda kept handing me lattes, and it was a small enough group that we could really have some dialogue, which also kept me awake. I was encouraged by how eager these folks are willing and ready to take some new risks in ministry. (Particularly because Young Life in America tends to be a well-oiled methodological machine.) Here's what I taught on:

(Re)Imagining Ministry to Lost Kids
1. Becoming artisan leaders means rockin a cycle of Listening, Letting Go, and Learning.
2. We gotta listen for God's Voice like Moses did (Exodus 33:9-18) and insist on His Presence leading us.
3. Listening like Moses did often means waiting and looking like a moron (Exod. 24:16-18).
4. We gotta listen to the voices of kids and empower them to lead, instead of us.*
5. If we don't listen to the voices of kids they'll become our ministry "objects" rather than "subjects." (And that's gross.)
6. We gotta let go of our "golden calves" in ministry. (AKA. Anything we turn to because "it just works," rather than first listening for and waiting on God.) Exod. 32:1-6.
7. We've even gotta let go of our "vain repetetions" in ministry. (Matthew 6:5-13). Though Jesus was talkin' about prayer, perhaps the same Pharisee-thing applies when we get all hyper-methodologized in ministry.
8. We've gotta learn as cross-cultural missionaries of our students' school, listening to "the pulse" of the culture. We've gotta know, "What is good news to these kids?" before we can communicate THE Good News.
9. We've gotta let go of the notion that we're the only ones who want these kiddos to be whole. We've gotta creatively partner with the folks in the community who have a vested interest in these same kids, even if those folks don't follow Jesus.
10. We've gotta learn all over again to dream and take risks with the Holy Spirit.

*I showed this gorgeous Sigur Ros video to illustrate, metaphorically, what it looks like for kids to lead other kids to freedom.

What I've Been Working On

If you would like to know what I've been working on, here is one thing. I recently finished a project for my class on Ministering to Street Children, and I got the wild idea to submit it as a blog-article, rather than just a boring paper (with an extra-large title...) "Listening to the Marginalized Voices of the Church to Awaken Faith: A Proposal for a Ministry of Love and Power to Street Children in Italy."

It features Heidi and Rolland Baker, yelling-at-Satan-Carlos Annacondia, Bill Johnson, the infamous John Wimber, Chuck Kraft, and my ideas for a new ministry in Naples, Italy. I hope it'll be a work-in-progress. Feel free to skim your favorite sections, and leave any comments if you desire to disagree, or to shout a sweaty, "amen." (I think my professora in Costa Rica would get a kick out of the conversation.)

The Church: Irreverent Towards Women?

I just completed a Culture Watchin' assignment with my friend, Ellen, in my Fuller MAGL cohort. I figured it was spicy enough to share a splice of it with you. Our assignment was to "partner up" with someone in our cohort, and follow the news , tracing a theme in culture, and analyzing it according to the changing post-modern landscape, and the implications it may have for the Church. (I appreciate Fuller because they've always taught us to pray with the Bible in one hand, the newspaper in the other.)

Our paper was entitled "The Post-Modern Working Woman in Positions of Power: A Clarion Call to the Church."

Here are a couple of the recent articles we analyzed:

NY Times:
Women Feeling Freer to Suggest 'Vote for Mom'

Washington Post Online Blog Discussion (generating +200 comments!):
Have Women Fared Well or Badly in the World's Religions Down Through the Ages? Why?

(And the one that makes me want to either scream or cry...)
Dallas Morning News: Baptists at Odds Over Removal of Female Professor

To spare you all the bloody details, here is our conclusion:

In the shifting landscape of twenty-first century America, it is clear that our culture is now desirous of women having some part in the systems of power. The emerging independency and power-inclusion of women is evidenced through the political campaigning of Hillary Rodham Clinton, the unabashed motherly persona of Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, as well as Sam Rodgers' NY Times report that the majority of U.S. women are now living without a spouse. It seems we are living in changing times in the attitudes of women, and in the acceptance of women into leadership roles. However, when it comes to the question of gender equality in church leadership, articles such as that of The Dallas Morning News and the Washington Post's online blog question on women and religion reveal a growing chasm between Church and Culture. In the present shift to a post-modern world, where partnerships, egalitarianism, and many-layered voices are valued, the American Church must be prepared to reexamine and reform her theology of women in leadership, and the cultural biases that often underscore these theologies. Without such a pointed reformation, the Church risks growing increasingly more irreverent towards women as human beings, as well as being irrelevant to a culture which demands much more equality.

It was especially fun working with Ellen, because she works in a Vineyard church where they freely call her "pastor"!

"This is a historic moment - for the Congress, and for the women of this country. It is a moment for which we have waited more than 200 years. Never losing faith, we waited through the many years of struggle to achieve our rights. But women weren't just waiting; women were working. Never losing faith, we worked to redeem the promise of America, that all men and women are created equal. For our daughters and granddaughters, today, we have broken the marble ceiling. For our daughters and our granddaughters, the sky is the limit, anything is possible for them."
-Nancy Pelosi's words from her 2006 acceptance speech

(Betcha didn't know Nancy P. used to be a D'Alesandro! We might be related. Thanks to Wiki for the Pelosi picki.)

God For People Who Hate Church

My friend, Phil Wyman, is putting on a provacative conference called "God For People Who Hate Church." Phil is that wild pastor man up in Salem, Mass, who is being Jesus to his neo-pagan and witch friends, finding innovative ways to seek forgiveness for how the Church has mistreated those friends.

The gathering will feature the preacher-punk, Jay Bakker, son of Jim Bakker. (Years ago, when I first saw Jay interviewed on TV I wanted to marry him.) This will not be your typical Christian conference. It will even include open dialogue with atheists and pagans, who'll talk candidly about how Christians have demeaned those they've tried to reach with the Good News. Read more about the conference here.

Synchronize Your Consciousness

Wednesday, the Synchro-blogger team will be writing on the (mysterious) topic of "Alternate Forms of Consciousness as it Relates to Christianity." As I am knee deep in writing for my last week of the winter quarter, I can't participate this month. Had I the time, I probably would write about my supernatural experiences of the Holy Spirit during worship and prayer, and how those experiences altered my consciousness towards God's power.

Check out the Synchro-bloggers' work. It's sure to rock your consciousness in some way.

Shamanic Vision and Apocalyptic Scripture at Phil Wyman's Square No More
Can prayer be an example of Alternate Conciousness? at Eternal Echoes
Better Than I Was [at times], Not Better Than You Are by Mike of Earthsea
emotionalism vs rationalism at Adam Gonnerman's Igneous Quill
Consciousness of the absurd and the absurdity of consciousness at Steve's Notes from the Underground
The Unconscious Christian by Matt Stone
Hypnochristians at Jamie's More Than Stone
The extreme consciousness of the Spirit by Les Chatwin
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me at Mike's Musings
What is reality? by David Fisher at Be the Revolution

Oh Snap, Son

In truth, I have massive blog envy over Andrew Jones' infamous Tall Skinny Kiwi Blog. He was blogging about important and quirky things in the Kingdom long before blogging became a verb. And he makes me laugh aloud with his occasional photoshopping antics. As a rogue wanderer on his site, I found this cool app called, "Snap." I had to have it.

So now I do. Hello Sez Nelly gets a new (ahem, snappy) dress. Let your mouse do the walking and now be thrilled by getting visual previews for most all of my linkages!

My Visual DNA

Here's an interesting 21st century personality test. It's all done according to the images that appeal to you. The written analysis was quite on target with me, in a bizarre sort of way. I'm still not sure how I feel about being called an "Escape Artist" (to supplement being a "Rogue Wanderer," I might add...). Thanks to curious Brian in Ibiza for the cool idea.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Needing Car Wisdom

I am in a strange, adventurous season of preparing to return to Southern Europe. Strange because I do not have a definite return time, yet. Adventurous because it feels the world is at my feet! But, strange because I really have to begin thinking about things such as buying or leasing a car, not knowing how long I may need said car.

So I started doing some proverbial "web research."

I found out that swapping a lease may be a nice way to get a reliable car without a massive down-payment, and reasonable monthlies. Especially if you'll only need a car short-term, but need more confidence than a cheap-o used car might offer. Sites like Swap-a-Lease help you get in or out of a lease, e-bay style.

The last car I drove in America was a hip '90 Volvo 240 Wagon. Oh, the Volvino was so beautiful. But he wasn't so beautiful when his brakes gave way when I was going 40 mph on Highway 301. That was a fright!

I dunno. There's no rush, yet. I'm just in research-mode. I wonder if anyone out there has any short-term car buying wisdom.

My Million Dollar Challenge

So my Dad signed me up to play in the CNBC "Million Dollar Portfolio Challenge." CNBC gives you $1,000,000 in fake money, you spend it on stocks, and then each week they award someone $10k in real cash for having the hottest portfolio. The top dawg wins the real million.
My entry in this game is beyond laughable considering I know far more about making chicken stock than I do about trading NASDAQ stocks. But I must admit, it's a pretty fun game. Especially because it's all fake money.

I'm sure I won't win, because I basically only picked stocks in corporations I support with my business in every day life, and the ones that seem the least exploitive towards the marginalized. In three days, I've made $5k! (Grazie to British Airways and Amazon.com.)

Tonight my Dad is playing in a Texas Hold-em Poker tourney, and he just called to ask us to pray because he made it to the final table. Dad's pretty great at poker. (And when he wins, he shares his winnings with me. He's a sweet Daddy, he is.)

I really don't understand why well-meaning folks condemn things like poker-playing, but pay no issue with the billions gambled away with money piled up in stocks. Particularly when many of the corporations who are winning them gains are doing so on the backs of workers who still cannot earn a living wage.

Most Vivid Dreams - Part 3

Last night I had another incredibly vivid dream. I'm sure part of it was born out of one of my classes at Fuller: Ministering to Street Children.

I was in Italy, sitting on the second floor of an apartment that faced the street. It was a gloomy, rainy day, and I was looking out the window. My eye caught two young girls who'd walked out into the street who couldn't have been older than seven. They were all alone and playing in the puddle-filled street.

Then, in the magical-speed of dreams, the street below began flooding with rain, and water rushed from one end to another. The little girls seemed totally unaware of the danger that they were in. One of them had a toy boat that was large enough for her to sit on, and from the window I saw her motioning as if she was going to try to ride on it for fun in the flooded street.

I looked around the apartment and realized that no one but me saw this happen. So I barreled down to the street, only to arrive to find her being carried away by the stream. I felt helpless. But then as I peered way down the street I could see a small group of adults who were headed towards her to catch her.

I ran over to the girls' friend, who was still street-side, totally unaware of what had just happened. She had a "nobody can hurt me" attitude about her, though she was so very young. She was incredulously drinking cheap beer, even. I tried asking her in (my pitiful) Italian if she thought her friend was ok, but she answered me in English, quite nonchalantly. It didn't seem she even cared.

The group of adults showed up with the girl, and they appeared to be folks about my age. There were four of them, mostly from the States, but one from Asia. They explained that they all ended up in Italy through this one friend of theirs' named, Chuck. So, strangely, instead of giving me their contact info, they gave me his.

And we all ended up at a weird American breakfast buffet that was very strange to find in Italy. Other Americans joined us, but they seemed clueless on how to be polite and quiet in a European country. No one knew how to pay the bill properly, so I ended up doing it.

(Flood Picture from the National Weather Service's article on Flash Floods: Turn Around Don't Drown.)

All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone

After a long day at Ski Roundtop, the whole mess of us came home happy and injury-free. (Thank you for praying, if that was you.)

What I Learned While Tumbling Down the Icy P.A. Mountain
1. Snowboarding is not at all like skateboarding.
2. I'm far better at snowboarding in my imagination than on the mountain.
3. Ski-pants really are necessary, to avoid getting snow in your crevices.
4. When snowboarding with teenagers, bring extra gloves with you on the lift, because inevitably someone will forget their gloves and need your's.
5. Snowboarding without gloves can cause slightly bleeding knuckles.

On a different note, the illustrustious instrumental band, Explosions In The Sky has just released an unbelievable record that you should own. The Austin-based band must've traced my emotions to entitle the album, All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone. Their fourth album is brilliantly swirling with melodies of wordless hope. Listening to this record today made me feel like Jesus had stuck an i.v. of pulsing joy into my arm. The Explosions boys even added a piano to their post-rockin' line-up on a couple tracks. Oh happy day.

Check out a free mp3 of the record's second track here. All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone is available on iTunes, and also here.

To Play Like a Child Again - Part 2

Tomorrow morning I'll board a bus with about 30 folks from our church youth group to go skiing, snowboarding, and snow-tubing in Pennsylvania. I'm going to play in the snow like a child again! I need it. And our group needs it. Communities that play together stay together.

I've always wanted to snowboard, and in my head I'm really good at it. Maybe because when I was 11 I also thought I was an excellent skateboarder, and I figure it's practically the same thing. (I still only have one move on the skateboard, and it's not really that impressive.)

For you praying-types, we'd love prayer for no-injuries and wild childlike fun!
Cheers.