Cosmic Love

Florence+The Machine

The other week Andrew tried to get us to describe our current status with God as likened to a car. I had no idea what my car-like relationship was with Jesus. But after a recent car ride I did hear a song. For months now it’s been beyond words to put some sort of “relationship status” on me and God. “It’s complicated,” but not in the “we’re slowly breaking up” way that facebook is talking about. It’s really just complicated. It’s a lot like a lot of things, but not exactly. It’s almost like something we are both familiar, but but not quite.

‘A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it’s left me blind…’

Does that make any sense? This God so simplistically stated as ‘good’ or ‘mean’ or any other thing that we find ourselves wise enough to judge falls short to the action of a live being. I mean. It’s not about God ‘being’ any peticular adjective, rather He is, therefore, He’d doing–. Somewhere in my past, as well as my present, I find myself blinded by the heart of this lover I have only ever know as “God.” God, no longer the distant being, but the something of a song, with stars in His heart.

So yay? Good for me?

I find myself blind. Blind, in the wholly unromantic way.

‘The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart”

That Christian victory everyone strives for, for the whole world to “grow strangely dim,” I’ve long since past by, because dim is nothing to a blindman. I can’t see. Its not a glorious passion, but a desperation I live out grasping in the dark. Stumbling over things I cannot see longing to see God. For the feeling of closeness I have been ruined for anything short of. But I am still blind. I pray. I seek. And I am thrust into mourning. Searching for a God that has ravaged my heart and then disappeared into darkness.

‘I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart’

I’ve had a few stranger ‘spiritual experiences’ lately an odd occurrence where I was thinking about fasting. I say ‘thinking’ because the morning thereof I knew, that day, something would happen if I could do it. If I could sit in the stillness, if I could pray the away the darkness, I could get Him back. I could call, and plead, kick and scream, then, I knew, He would return. I was torn there and then. I stood with one foot on either side of the divide in my theological casume. To trust the God leading me in the dark, or to call down the God of far off heaven. To believe He loved me, or to demand a business transaction from a business-god. I was torn between pouting to a pagan god I could apease or waiting for the God who through out history, and my history, is acclaimed for actually coming to me. I believed the God who spoke, and so I wallowed in my aloneness. One last time I asked, speak.

Remain.

One word. One wrecking, little word.

I sat there a moment. Then I went down stairs. And ate breakfast.

I am still in the dark.

Oh and hi, my name is Steph.

The Capital-T Truth

It’s been a year since the Joplin tornado. I made a video in reflection a couple of months following the storm last year. Over the past year I’ve been a two thousand miles away. My home has changed. I have changed. My relationships have changed, become disconnected – new ones have replaced old ones. My brother has graduated from high school; my parents’ house will be childless for the first time. Some old work friends of mine are getting married.

We grow older. Things change. We change. But will we remember? Will our children’s children remember?

Probably not.

Hell, we probably won’t remember in sixty years.

But that’s the course of life, of history – no? We repeatedly suffer – sometimes of our own doing, sometimes because of things out of our control. That suffering shapes us, but down the line comes a point where that suffering is forgotten. It’s inevitable because suffering is a very individual thing, even if others are suffering alongside us. And the individuality of suffering separates us from the world ahead of us.

So where does that leave us?

It leaves us with a choice. Not about what happens to us, but what we make of ourselves, what we make of the world. That choice lays there before us everyday; we make a choice whether we’re conscious of it or not.

I like this quote by David Foster Wallace: “The capital-T truth is about life before death.” For those (like me) that doubt that we’ll be more than dust after death, it’s important to know that nihilism is a fraud – that it can only exist on paper and not in the day-to-day trenches of life. Whether our lives matter, whether our sufferings and experiences matter is of no question. They matter to us currently living and experiencing them and to those around us doing the same. Those in the past, those in the future – they are only ghosts.

We exist now – we have a choice to make. I’m still in the process of choosing.

ZOMBIE CHRISTIAN

Hey, I’m James. This is my first blog post. Here goes nothing.

Are you a Zombie Christian?

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I am a Zombie Christian. At least I seem to feel like the walking dead just about every single waking moment of my existence as I’m going through the motions of life, whether I’m slinging coffee at work, hanging out with friends, sitting in church when I actually make it to church, or just sitting at home, it seems like the only thing I feel, is out of touch. Yet have no fear…I’m not going to eat you. I’m painting you a picture of my spiritual state and my ever-growing numbness that plagues me like the T-Virus (Resident Evil reference). It plagues me because I deprive myself of the very thing that I need, and we as Christians need the most. Communion with God.

This happens when you don’t stay in The Word and begin to talk and listen to God less and less. Slowly you go from less and less to not at all. Eventually you don’t even feel conviction, or even conviction about not feeling conviction. Some days you think about God and His unfailing love for not, but a second, and you can’t even muster up the slightest feeling of alleviation. That is where I’m at as of late, and have been for quite some time. It’s pretty much the same concept with food and water. If you deprive yourself of those two things it takes a huge toll on your body, and your mind. That being said, it really puts into perspective John 6:35, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.”

In this world of saving face, I feel that we as Christians need to be completely honest with one another on where we’re at, and stop trying to hide what’s going on within ourselves. Hiding our true sin natures. Too many times we as a church tend to wear a mask, and pretend like everything is A OK, when in reality we are completely at rock bottom. That’s the kind of environment I grew up in my entire life. Keeping up appearances was the name of the game. Whoever is the most spiritual wins. Whoever can pray the most impeccable prayer is the one you should model yourself after. Forget modeling after, oh I don’t know…Jesus. What has happened to come as you are? Jesus meets you right where you’re at, and He died for you in your worst moment, not your best. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”-Romans 5:8. He can fix you if you let Him. I’m finally getting to the point where I am letting Him again. Honestly, I truly miss Him finally, and I want to be close to Him again. Everything outside of Jesus is death. I’ve experienced too much of this world to stay on this path for too much longer. I know if I do I will not truly live, and surely die. I’m sick of going through life as a Zombie.

Showing up.

I believe it is Woody Allen (handsome man), who is credited with the quote, “90% of life is showing up.”   I think what makes it so great is how simple a truth it is.   There’s no magic in showing up, but that’s the first step in anything, magic or not.

I bring it up because it has been on my mind in a few ways:

1. Showing up is really important in our community.   It’s so simple, I’m surprised how hard it is to explain to someone who doesn’t see it implicitly.   It’s common for people to show up at a church, spend a few weeks there, and move on saying, “I didn’t find community”.   But I don’t know that we can ever find community – we make it.   Which leads me to point 2.

2. I feel guilty about it, but I think I am coasting in the community currently.   I’m showing up to community, but I’m not actively making community the way I am capable of.   I’ve been tired.   I’ve got too much to do yesterday.   The garden isn’t what it should be, and that’s a tangible example of what effort I am putting in to everything else.   Thankfully, others are stepping up pretty dramatically.   But, I still feel guilty.

3. In my relationship with God, I haven’t shown up in a while.   I miss Him, but I let how tired I am and how many demands are on me be excuses to continue my absence.

First step would be showing up, next step would be making it.   Any relationship I care about deserves those two pieces.

House Update.

Hey guys. Patricia here. I just wanted to give out a quick update of the exciting things that are happening at the Gladstone Community.

We have new housemates!! Yay! I am so thankful for my new roommate Stephanie.  She’s from Hawaii, and has a pet hedgehog. James moved in across the hall, and his favorite thing to do is ride his fixed gear like a maniac while listening to metal. And last but not least, Sandy, Julia’s mom moved in on Thursday, bringing with her two kitty cats. I believe this brings the house totals up to 7 people, 3 dogs, 3 cats, and 1 hedge hog, which makes for one heck of a crowded fridge.  But I must admit that having a full house makes it seem a whole lot more like home to me.  Call me weird.

In other news, we recently bought a chicken coop with the intention of filling it with some fine mother cluckers. Andrew found it on craigslist for cheap out in Hillsboro, and with the help of a trusty posse, purchased said coop, and brought it back to southeast.  Unfortunately, when we got it back to the house, we shortly realized that it wasn’t going to fit through our gate and into the backyard.  Without a solution, it is now sitting out front on the sidewalk, acting as a porta-potty for passers-by.  The sad things is, the coop is only 2 inches too big. TWO INCHES!! I’m pretty sure we’re open for ideas on how to solve this problem. Even if it means selling the darn thing.

The garden is slowly filling up.  Last weekend we made potato towers. Last weekend was also the first time I’d ever heard of potato towers.  Google it. They’re weird. I’m interested to see if it pans out. I guess that’s what’s so exciting about gardens. It’s not always guaranteed that things will work out.  The more work you put in, the more likely it is that it will be successful, but it’s not a sure thing.

And on that deep note, I will say my goodbye. Thanks for reading and peace out from Southeast.

That Communist, Socialist, Black, Muslim, Nazi, Zombie in the White House.

“Obama’s a communist socialist black Muslim Nazi! That’s the worst kind of Nazi there is! The most dangerous, sneaky Nazi…I think he’s a zombie too!” – David Cross