"That Guy"(+)

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Part 1

Part 2

Imagine that you are a student at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. You are a 19 years old sophomore. The year is 1999. The sun is poking out from behing the clouds on a cool Spring day. It is almost noon. You are coming from Chem Lab and decide to go by the Union to get a bite to eat. Your stomach rumbles at the thought of a chicken wrap, a bag of Sun Chips and a Mr. Pibb.

As you draw nearer to the Union you hear a strange, very unpleasant sound. Is someone yelling? You see a small group gathered at the head of the Alley.

"Fight?" you ask another student as you come up on the scene.

"No, preachers," the coed replies, a look of exasperation on her face. That's when you notice a young looking, skinny guy standing on the bench, holding what you assume to be a Bible over his head and shouting at a pretty loud volume.

You curiosity wins out over the need to fill your belly. Against the protests of your body, you decide to investigate.

You step up to the edge of the couple of dozen or so spectators. You hear various things being said around you, some of them directed at the guy on the bench, some of them to one another, some of them to who-knows-where.

"Get a life!" "Who does this %&@# think he is?" "You're not God!" "What the heck!" "Juge not!" "Who are you?" "What church do you go to?" "Leave us alone!" "Do you ever sin?" "Jesus loves me." "Are you getting paid?"

Sometimes the guy on the bench answers the questions/accusations/threats of the "congregation." Sometimes he ignores them in favor of what sounds like quotes from the Bible. One moment he seems angry, the next he is laughing, the next he appears very earnest. What would possess someone to get up on a bench, expose themself to ridicule and yell themself hoarse?

The guy on the bench finishes and is replaced by one of his fellow preachers. He walks over to a backpack and pulls out a water bottle. He dries his sweaty face with an orange bandana. There is a group of these guys milling around the crowd. They hand out pamphlets that feature words like "born again," "repent," "holiness" and "sin." Some of them are holding signs with dire warnings of judgment to come. Some of them are engaged in conversations with passersby. They point to pages in the Bible often. You overhear the phrase "the Bible says" more than once.

Even as you leave to attend to the demands of your stomach, a question lingers in your mind. "Who was that guy?"

I have a confession to make. I used to be "That Guy."

I was the one on the street corner holding the sign and screaming at the top of my lungs that everyone needed to "Raaaaaahhh-peeeeeennnnt!" Let it sink in. You know the kind of weirdo I am talking about. Most of us have had the misfortune of running across at least one of them. I was "That Guy."

If you were a Christian and you saw me, you were embarrassed for me. Or maybe you were angry because I was misrepresenting God to all the people around me. "You're turning people off." Or maybe you were sad that I was so off.

If you were someone who did not embrace the Christian faith you may have had a number of different reactions.

Your best bet was to simply ignore me and keep walking. Most people chose this option.

If you liked to argue, you might have tried to reason with me. Usually this approach would focus on a critique of my methods.

If you could stand to hear the loud preaching and wanted a good laugh, maybe you stuck around for a while and made fun of me. I don't blame you but do question your choice of diversion.

Sometimes there were people, both Christian and otherwise, who realized that what we were doing was difficult and required a reasonable level of commitment, however misguided. These people would offer different forms of encouragement, mostly in the form of verbal compliments.

I suspect that it is unlikely that you will ever run across someone who was a Pentecostal street preacher, then went to a Wesleyan seminary, now attends an Anglican church and is considering being ordained, collar and all. If you know someone else who even remotely resembles that description, PLEASE introduce us.

The Pentecostal group that I was a part of when I used to street preach is still around. You can find them here. See if you can spot me in the banner of their website. If you search my name using Google or Yahoo a few of the results link to a newsletter testimony I wrote for them when I was still attending.

I am thinking about writing more about my tounge-talkin', Pentecostal, street preaching days on axegrinder. Anyone interested?

Hack away.

Advent 1 - A Neon Sign, a Megaphone and a Penitent Heart

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Here is part of an Advent collect I wrote last year when I was asked to pray at my company's Christmas party. I'm not so sure they will ask me to pray again this year.

Read the Advent 1 Collect, Epistle and Gospel here or listen to me read them by clicking the button below.

The collect, epistle and gospel for the first Sunday in Advent are Las Vegas neon signs, only without the rest of Las Vegas surrounding them. It is as if Sin City was hit by a dozen nuclear bombs, flattened and the only things left standing are these signs. This prayer and these readings are a man coming into our bedroom in the middle of the night and screaming through a bullhorn in order to get our attention. They are telling us to get our priorities in order.

Advent is about preparation and anticipation. The Christmas season that begins on December 25th is about celebration, remembrance and participation. Right now we are called to penitence and reflection. This is a revival service. It is a retreat. It is time to get down to the business of introspection and confession. We are being called through the Scriptures to put away our sins and embrace every virtue so that we might meet the Lord with joy when he returns. Christ's first advent 2000 years ago is very closely tied to his second advent.

I like the pagentry of Christmas. I don't love it, yet. I was an iconoclast for not a few years, so I am still working my way into a fuller appreciation of the decorations, manger scenes, trees, carols and all the rest of the expressions of happiness that are prevalent this time of year. That is why I hesitate to say what I am about to say. I am wary of falling back into my pseudo-prophet persona, the one in which I presumtuously pretend to be God's heavy sent to crash everyone's party and spoil everyone's holiday cheer.

The readings for today seem to be stripping us down. We are called to take off everything that would hinder us from loving God and our neighbor. We are called to be alert, looking for Christ's return.

We are standing on a street in Jerusalem. Here comes Jesus. He is riding a donkey. We greet him as a king. He doesn't look like a king. Kings ride large horses, or stand in impressive chariots. They are followed by soldiers. This man from Nazareth is just a peasant. He is followed by peasants, fishermen and women. What does this "king" do next?

He goes into the Temple and cleans house, literally.

There were things that were being used to assist people in their worship as they came to the Temple. Something had gone wrong. The practices surrounding these things were corrupt. These things had become a source of grief to God. People had lost sight of the Temple's purpose in the midst of all the excesses.

I see a convergence in the epistle and gospel readings for this day. The Romans passage directs us take a hard look at ourselves. We are to put away all of our sins. We are accountable to participate in the process of redemption. In theological terms, this is known as synergism. While we are called to put off our sins we remain totally dependent upon the Lord to make us clean. I believe that this is where the gospel reading comes in. We need Jesus to enter the temple of our hearts and drive from them all things that would harm us and offend the one who desires to reside in that temple.

My friends, we are called to seek the Lord in prayer during the Advent season so that he may search our hearts. The festivities surrounding the holidays are not evil. I hope that I am able to participate in them with my friends and family while also fully embracing the other priorities of the season. May we not miss the purpose of this preparatory time. God help us to not allow these moments to be stolen from us.

A Few Announcements

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1. I have made, what I hope are, a few improvements to axegrinder. The banner at the top is new. Thanks to Canadian Steve for the help. I felt the pix captured what I am about: writing satire/humor and hacking away at theology. I added a flickr banner to the sidebar a while back. It contains a rotating set of about 15 images, 10 of which are visible at a time.

2. As I mentioned this week, I will be offering audio versions of some of my posts from now on. I will also do audio versions of some of the posts in the archives. The entire "looky here" section will get audio shortly. The symbol (+) will indicate audio.

3. Starting tomorrow, I am going to try and do something special for the Sundays in Advent.

4. If you have any suggestions for improving this blog, please feel free to comment or email me. Also, if you have any subject that you especially want me to address, let me know. I can't promise anything but will take any feedback into consideration. Honestly, I enjoy the free-flowing nature of the blog right now. I have plenty to write about and am sometimes suprised at what comes up from week to week in my mind. I love this outlet.

5. For the few of you who have looked at the first chapter of my novel, Monica, here are a few tidbits. First, I am sorry that I have not offered any more than one chapter thus far. I still intend to put the whole thing on the Monica blog. I do not want to put chapters up that are too raw. Doing so might discourage you from reading more. While what is posted is not final draft material, it does require some editing before anyone else reads it. I will try and have a readable chapter 2 available to you by this Friday (12/2). I appreciate both your patience and your encouragement to keep going.

6. I also need to let you know that some of the material in Monica is going to be emotionally intense. There will be some very adult themes in the work. I do not intend to be pornographic or gratuitously violent, but I am telling you up front that you may want to preview it before granting access to anyone under the age of 18.

I hope you had an enjoyable Thanksgiving Day. May the Lord bless you as you begin the pilgrimage of Advent.

A 21st Century Pilgrim Gives Thanks

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The pilgrims had a great idea. I am so glad that we continue the tradition of setting aside this day to express our gratitude to God for the good things in our lives. I want to publicly express my thanks to God today.

Oh Lord, Giver of every good and perfect gift, Sustainer of all creation, Father of all who call upon you, hear and receive my praise.

As I think about the goodness that surrounds me, I want to name some of these things before you.

You sent your Son, Jesus Christ, to become a man. He has atoned for our sins and made the way back to you a reality in my life. You have accepted me in him.

You have sent the Holy Spirit to dwell within me. By him I am enabled to say, “Father.” He daily gives me light. He enables me to participate in your worship. He prays within me as I always fail to know how to pray to you.

Your world is a beautiful place. The skies pour down rain. The sun gives light and heat. The plants provide food and oxygen. There are many places where I have been that I have seen your handiwork so clearly. I have worshipped you at those times and in those places. I remember the first time I sensed your presence with clarity was sitting in a quiet place under the stars in the mountains of North Carolina. You made that a place for me to meet with you.

You have established your Church in the earth. It is instituted by Christ and constituted by the Spirit. You are my Father. The Church is my Mother. I am warmed by her embrace. It is here that I work out my salvation. I company with others who have been reconciled to you. I love your Church.

You provided a stable family for me. My parents answered the call to follow you. Our fellowship in you continues to grow deeper as the years pass. My sister and brother in law have two healthy, beautiful children who bring great joy to everyone privileged to be around them.

My friends continually remind me of how good my life is. I have met some of the best people. I wish I could take credit for having such people in my life. I don’t know why they would be associated with me but I am glad that they are.

My life has been vastly improved by the education that I received at Wesley Biblical Seminary. The world has gotten so much bigger. You have gotten bigger in my mind. WBS aided my escape from the religious ghetto where I had been living for too long, a place of bondage that I at one time thought was freedom.

Holy Trinity, for these overwhelming graces, and the multitude of others that fill my life every day, I give you my thanks.

Dear Stereotype

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Why?

You looked me right in the eye. You told me you were going to do it. You came to me. I did not ask for you to interrupt my day. You asked me for help. I was skeptical. I was momentarily sorry for being skeptical. I agreed to help you.

You had a chance to prove me wrong. You had a chance to make it easier for me to believe in people. You had a chance to be better than my expectations.

I wanted to be wrong. I wanted to feel like a jerk. I wanted you to be more. I wanted you to simply do what you said you would do. Was it so hard?

You’re such a cliché. You make it so easy for people to hate, to prejudge, to harden their hearts. You are pathetic.

I will not let you do that to me. I will not sink down into abject cynicism. I refuse to let you steal my joy.

You will never read this. I lament for you. Is there anything that would change you? Do you have a soul?

I know you would probably wrong me again if given the chance. You would sneak around my back and take what is not yours. You would blow me off if I confronted you.

I forgive you.

Postscript To "The Comforts of Home" (+)

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I am really excited. Blogger has a new feature, audioblogging. I will be offering audio versions of some of my posts. I will add audio to the posts in the "looky here" section of the sidebar to the left, as well as some other posts in the archives. Who knows what else I might inflict upon you? I will indicate audio in the title of appropriate posts with "(+)."

Listen to this post.

I wrote a few weeks ago about a trip that I was going to take to see some friends in East Texas. I needed to make that trip. Do you know what I mean? I needed time with my friends. I've been trying to get out there for months. I miss my friends. My car decided that it did not want to cooperate with my plans. Between Jackson and Vicksburg on I-20 I realized that my horse was coming up lame. If my car was a person we would probably not be on speaking terms right now. I called it some pretty nasty names. I was not able to go. I was very disappointed.

In a small way this disappointment reminded me of a longing for home that is temporarily unfulfilled. I have a strong desire for reunion with those whose company has meant so much to me. I hate being separated from them. These friends are spread from Germany to Alaska to Texas to Russia to Kentucky to Georgia to Pennsylvania to Heaven. I do not have a Madison Square Garden full of people whom I connect with on a deep level. I treasure those few with whom I share such a union. Why do we have to be scattered to the winds?

I had a dream when I was a boy. My family moved six times before I was in the sixth grade. IBM, those guardians of stable homes, saw fit to send us all over the place and keep my father on the road for large portions of time. My parents did a remarkable job managing the situation. My mother never communicated bitterness. Home was home. When my father was home, he was all home.

We had built a house in Atlanta and IBM told my dad that they were going to uproot us again. My father said "No thanks" and took his impressive talents somewhere else.

Back to my dream. We had moved around enough that I was missing some of the friends I had made in the places we had left behind. I dreamed that all the friends I had made lived in the same neighborhood. We went to school together and were able to play every day. It was my version of "Big Rock Candy Mountain." To my young mind that seemed like heaven. I woke up and plotted it all out on a piece of paper. I put Tommy Granatelli across the street. Louis Police was a few houses down. Mike and his older brother Brandon, whom I met on vacation in Florida, lived behind me. We had spit loogies off a 5th story balcony onto cars as they exited the parking garage of the hotel. Wouldn't you want them in your neighborhood? Tomboy Tracy, who I could beat up, I swear, was a short stroll through the woods.

Here are 3 of my East Texas friends. On the left is someone who defies classification. Somewhere between mom-away-from-mom and big sister, Grass Roots Mom is a dynamo. You need to go for a visit so you can experience true hospitality before you die. In the middle is the Greatest Small Church Pastor in the Universe. Go listen to him preach and marvel at the fact that he has never been to seminary and pastors less than a hundred people in a very out-of-the-way locale. A couple of hours away that moron, Joel Osteen, preaches to thousands upon thousands, while El Pastor is heard by a few dozen. I weep for justice to roll down like waters and set this incongruity right. How long, O Lord? Finally, on the right is the strongest teenage girl in Texas, nay, in the United States. Do you doubt me? Go spend a day wrangling horses with God's Cowgirl, then see if you have the audacity to question me. I am convinced that you could blindfold her, drop her anywhere in the world and she would not only survive, but would make it home before the horses missed her. She might even beat up a few evildoers on the way for kicks.

I have not even told you about Saint Shootist, the Scot, Blue Monk, Terrorist-Defying Mom and her little soldiers, Timber, Reader/Leader and the rest of the Redeemed Family, the Karaoke family, the other pilgrims of Longview Grace Fellowship and beyond.

The names and faces have changed since I was 10. I still dream for such permanence of communion.

I'm looking forward to heaven.

My Stigmata (+)

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They simply show up. There’s nothing I can do about it. They do not bleed. They do bring with them visions, however, satirical visions of the absurdity of life in a fallen world where sacks of bile, urine, feces, water and salt take themselves very seriously. A world-on-tilt where these same piles of animated molecules will fight, curse, kill, excommunicate, anathematize, debate, separate and castigate over opinions about a God that none of us really know all that well.

These are the marks of a Christian smart aleck.

Do you think God was smirking when he decided to put the world on an axis that was not straight up and down? Is it possible that he was telling us that our perspectives as finite creatures would always be a bit skewed?

In such a world I live. I can’t help but chuckle as I watch all of us scantily-clad skeletons try to raise ourselves above one another, tear one another down, get one another into bed and maneuver one another onto painted X’s under pianos held aloft by elaborate rig and pulley systems, waiting for the opportunity to crash down on an antagonist’s unworthy, unlucky, deserving head.

My stigmata are not the traditional kind. They do not resemble those of the King who still bears the scars of his passion. I wish I were worthy of such marks, such mystical transports, such illumined identification. No, my marks are not those of royalty, but rather those of the court jester. But, in this kingdom, it is not the emperor who has no clothes, it is his subjects. He’s not playing a cruel joke on us; we are simply too stupid to notice.

When I look around and see the charades that we act out in the presence of the King, I lose it sometimes. I can’t help but guffaw. My sides start hurting. I start to feel like I’m above it all. I’m not standing off to the side because I’m any different. I’m only a wallflower who hasn’t been asked to dance. I start to get comfortable noticing how silly everyone else looks. Then I feel a draft in the room and realize I’m as bare-bottomed as the rest of the ball. I turn red for a minute. Then I start laughing again. I guess it’s the stigmata.

So you and I will continue to vacillate between an exceeding and eternal weight of glory and the vacuous, pomp-and-circumstance of our own devices. We’ll put on the robes of righteousness and the rings of inheritance. Then we’ll play strip poker, frittering away what matters for what doesn’t, flashing each other with our bankruptcy. The emperor will look on with pity and do things to try and get our attention. We will learn the hard way to spend more time on pilgrimage toward the city with eternal foundations and less time trying to guard our glass houses by throwing rocks at the neighbor’s.

In the midst of this redemption I will have a good laugh. Yes, I will be laughing at you, not with you. Don’t worry, I’ll look down frequently and have a good laugh at myself. I expect that you will to.

Hack away.

In Remembrance of Bracy Greer

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I once knew a man. He died four years ago today.

I have known many good people. I have only known one whom I consider a saint.

Please read a striking tribute to my friend by another friend, Gary Tebbe.

He said that whatever else people might think about him he wanted to be remembered for one thing: he liked to talk about God.

He was a father and a grandfather, a husband, a pastor, a brother, a son, a preacher, a missionary, and evangelist, a prophet, an intercessor, a student, a lover of God and one beloved of God.

He was my friend.

He was the most genuinely self-effacing man I ever knew. He was the most edifyingly self-revealing mentor I can imagine. When he drew the curtain back even the scars were beautiful.

In a time when men who will accept the responsibilities of fatherhood are so rare, I knew a man who was a father in the faith to many people, including myself.

In 1994 I was a 21 year old, hot-blooded, well-intentioned disciple of Jesus Christ. I had moved to Longview, TX to be with some like-minded men. I began attending my friend’s church. He kindly took me under his wing.

I was often more trouble than I was worth. Once (well, more than once) when we were speaking with some people about the Christian faith I became very heavy-handed with an innocent by-stander. My new friend took me aside and gently admonished me to start by expressing more concern for people, rather than come over the top, which was very easy for me to do. I saw him overcome people’s resistance to talking about Christianity by taking a real interest in them. He did not see others as projects or proselytes, but as people who had been created by God to live in fellowship with him. It broke his heart to observe people living estranged from God.

I had found a man willing to do the messy work of correction. I had found a man committed to doing this work with consistency and kindness. He did more than simply talk. I saw him witness to the Christian faith intelligently, convincingly, creatively and compassionately.

I lived across the street from my friend for a while. He would go to the church early on Sunday mornings, and I used to ride with him sometimes. One morning he asked me to attend to the water cooler at the church. This job involved going to one store to fill the cooler with ice and then going to another location to fill the cooler with clean water. There were some complications that morning, and I did a shoddy job completing my task.

When I got back to the church I was frustrated. I told my pastor what happened and put the cooler in its place. My friend took a moment to explain to me why he took the time on Sunday mornings to drive around filling up a water cooler. He liked the thought of people being able to get a cold drink of water while they were at church. It was a small thing. It was a nice thing to do for others. It took up his time when he could have been doing something else.

He had committed himself to serving the servants of God, as well as those who did not know the Lord. He rejoiced in this service and fulfilled it in a myriad of ways all the time. It was not the kind of service that put you in his debt. It was the kind of ministry that inspired you to go and do likewise. That’s what I did that Sunday. I picked up the cooler, got back in my car and kept at it until the task was done, until I had done something kind for someone else.

These examples from the life of my friend come from the world of the mundane. That is where we all live most of our lives. I could tell you of some more spectacular incidents but thought that these two stories captured the workaday, arresting piety of my friend.

He said many things that have seeped down into who I am. He did many things that illumined a high path of following the Shepherd who loves his sheep.

I am unable to express who he was in words that are remotely adequate. I miss him so much my heart hurts.

You were a prince among men, Bracy Greer. I love you.

Head's Up - (NaNO 2)

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I have opened up a new blog on which I will be posting the first draft of my NaNoWriMo work.

You can find it here.

It is called "Monica." The address is http://monica-novel.blogspot.com.

I am way behind. I do have some momentum and ideas. I am enjoying the process.

Let me know what you think if you take a minute to check it out.

Keepin' It Real - Theological Terms in Everday Life

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To show that I'm all about groovin' with "incarnational" ministry, I thought I would offer a suggestion to broaden the public's exposure to the nomenclature of theology and philosophy. And so I offer an example of bringing a theological term into the everyday life of a greater amount of people. Academicians shouldn't be the only ones who can use big words.

I'm going to start with a word I had never heard until I arrived at seminary. The word is "ontology."

Ontology -
A branch of metaphysics relating to the nature and relations of being.
A particular theory about the nature of being or the kinds of existence.
The "science of being."

Hmmm. How can such an important word be incorporated into the everyday speech of the masses?

#1 You are re-reading "The Far Side" anthology your brother bought you for Christmas in 1998. Inspiration strikes. You see the nature of reality more clearly than ever before. What are you going to say?

"Ontolo-Gee!"

gee - an exclamation, as of surprise, enthusiasm, or sympathy.

#2 Ya chillin' wit'cha homies. Ya boy, TMac, drops some crazy junk about the meaning of life and the pointlessness of existence. Don't be frontin'. What's ya answer to TMac's angst?

"Ontolo, G."

g -
A word used to call someone whose name you do not know.
A title of endearment for a close friend.

#3 After an evening of watching American Chopper, Emeril, O'reilly and the Crocodile Hunter, you begin thinking about the degeneration of intellect in American culture. The characters from the shows you've been watching present themselves to your memory in succession. They do not have much in common. You can say one thing about all of them. They are definitely not

Ontolo-geniuses

genius - someone who has exceptional intellectual ability and originality.

#4 You are an Emergent pastor whose hobbies include skateboarding, web design, watching Def Poetry Jam and coining new theological terms. You want to blend traditional and postmodern concepts in your theology. You happened upon a book of liturgical terms and are trying to describe worship that is authentic and relevant. You want your people to understand the Jesus wants more than simply their words. He wants their whole being. What are your Croc-clad, wire-rimmed, iPodding, Gen-Xers supposed to do on Sunday morning?

Ontolo-genuflect

genuflect -
To bend the knees and bow in church or before a religious superior or image.
To be servilely respectful or deferential.

#5 As you are surfing the internet, the search engine you are using presents you will some fantastic links for your Intro to Philosophy essay on Existentialist thinker, Soren Kierkegaard. What would be a worthy moniker for the aforementioned search engine?

Ontolo-Jeeves

Jeeves - The internet butler/mascot of the Ask.com search engine.

Alright, now the ball is in your court.

Hack away.

Why Is Blue Dog So Cool? (Questions of Taste)

blue dog
Originally uploaded by holysanchez.

How can the same person (me) take pleasure in both George Rodrigue's "Blue Dog" and Claude Monet's "The Waterlily Pond?" Waterson's "Calvin and Hobbes" and TS Eliot's "Ash Wednesday?" Pork rinds and Filet Mignon? Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Born on the Bayou" and Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons?"

I am thankful that I am multifaceted, as are you. The pop-pleasure I get from Blue Dog is different from the aesthetic titilation I derive from Monet. The chuckle I enjoy from cartoon Calvin's antics feeds me in one manner, while the challenge of working through the theological poetry of TS Eliot gives me something substantive that will sustain me for a lifetime. Pork rinds are a guilty pleasure. Filet Mignon will give me substantive nutrition. Playing air guitar to CCR will get my adrenalin up. Vivaldi will put me in a more meditative state. I like it all.

We are diverse creatures with multifaceted tastes and desires. There are things that connect us all to one another. We are each created in the image of God. There is a unity in humanity, despite what it looks like sometimes on the news. There is also the wonderful particularity of every individual person. We are each unique. These two facets of creation, unity and particularity, are drawn from the the Triune Creator, 3 Persons, One God. Thank God we can find a commonality between us, and within that commonality is such beautiful and interesting diversity.

I am also glad to be living in a place and time that offers me the right to pursue happiness. This happiness can often be discovered in partaking of the richness of culture here and in other places. The internet has opened doors for many of us that would never have been opened. With a little google-savvy or wikipedia time we can find out about a broader world (art, literature, politics, religion, etc.) than ever before (thanks for the idea, reader/leader.). These open possiblilities present their own dangers, but that is the nature of life with a free will in a fallen world.

I'll take the adventure of discovery over the safety of separatism any day.

Hack away.

Postscript on Formal Prayer

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I was reading someone else's blog and a thought occured to me: Personal information can be interesting in the context of theological rumination.

For instance, as I was pontificating on the merits of formal prayer, would you have been interested to know of my own struggles regarding private prayer and Bible reading?

I have had a difficult time in my life establishing a consistent pattern of daily, private prayer and Bible reading. I do not question its importance. In fact, I try to promote it.

The time when I had the greatest consistency in this practice was when I took a vow to daily participate in the Orders for Morning and Evening Prayer out of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer. This vow was connected to my entrance into the process of ordination with an Anglican clerical order. The order placed a premium upon the clergy following the addage, "Lex Credendi, Lex Orandi," or "The law of faith is the law of prayer."

Formal prayer is one way to overcome the unnecessary wrestling to decide what Bible portions to read and what to pray about. The lectionary (ordered Bible readings) take you through the entire Bible in a year (some portions are read more than once). The prayers cover the areas of confession, worship/adoration, supplication/intercession and thanksgiving. There are places in the Orders where extemporaneous prayers may be inserted in order to personalize the time.

Some people, including myself, like a particular approach to prayer that includes worship, confession, praise and intercession. This form is often called the A.C.T.S. style (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication). The Orders of Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer contain these elements, only in a more traditional order: Confession, Adoration, Supplication, Thanksgiving (C.A.S.T.).

The words of the BCP (Book of Common Prayer) are beautiful and theologically engaging. They have inspired me in my own praying. I have found them to serve as springboards to help me voice my own prayers. I also like the fact that others in history and presently around the world are praying the same, or similar, prayers. This aspect helps me to remember that I am not alone in my praying but am participating in the communion of the saints through time and place.

Hack away.

Habitual Procrastination (NaNo 1)

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To any who know me at all, you know I am the most eggregious procrastinator in the world. I promise it is true. There is no one who can rival me.

I am not proud of it. I do not think it is cute, endearing, excusable or entertaining. I am simply stating an irrefutable fact. I am the chief of procrastinators. Do not doubt me, or I will come to your house sometime next week and give you a mighty fonging. There shall be pain, much pain!

That being said, I have 902 words written on my NaNoWriMo story (I dare not call it a novel). I was supposed to have 11,669 before Tuesday. I am a bit behind, wouldn't you say?

By the way, I do not have writer's block. I know it would be a great excuse/reason. It simply does not apply here. Maybe later. Maybe after I really start writing in earnest. But not now. I have all kinds of ideas for plot, setting, character development, et al in my head. That is the problem. The ideas are not getting translated from my head to the computer.

I really do not want this endeavor to become something I feel guilty about. I was enjoying some time without deadlines since I finished my thesis. The sticking point is that I know how great I will feel if I actually finish this story and finish it by November 30th.

And so, I will press on. I may not finish but I will not throw in the towel. As I sign off let me say that I most assuredly need to fervently

Hack away.

An Apology for Formal Prayer

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Have you ever said any of the following things in prayer?

"Lord, be with so-and-so."

"Lord, bless so-and-so."

Lord, be with and/or bless so-and-so in a special way."

If you answered "yes" then permit me to ask a follow-up question.

Were your requests stated in the non-descript, general manner that I used in the above supplications?

If you answered "yes" then permit me some more follow-up questions.

Do you repeat these supplications in the same, or similar, language on a regular basis? Yes? Do you ever get bored with repeating these requests? In other words, do you ever desire to say something more creative, more full, or more interesting? Do you think you are saying prayers only for others, or might the act of supplication in some way benefit you?

Some of you do not pray using written prayers. I am trying to inspire you to consider the practice. I have benefitted greatly from using the 1928 Book of Common Prayer Orders for Daily Morning and Evening prayer. There are many other forms from the Anglican Communion, Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, and others. I mention the '28 BCP because that is the one I have used most consistently.

When the disciples asked Jesus for prayer instruction he gave them a form. Praying words that someone else has written can inform and broaden your own prayers. We all have trouble praying at times. Give it a try. If you have questions, shoot me an email.


Hack away.

Letter to Andrew Jones of Emergent

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Andrew Jones at Tall Skinny Kiwi gave me a plug a while back for my "Postmodern Retelling of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican." He is a leader in the Emergent Church. I finally got around to saying "thank you" to him and thought I would share the email as it expresses some of what is on my mind right now.

Andrew,

I wanted to shoot a "thank you" over. It is a bit late.

You mentioned me on your blog a few months ago, at least a post I did called "A Postmodern Retelling of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican."

This happened before I had Stat Counter installed, but I think I got more traffic because of your plug than before or since.

My blog is a very humble enterprise. I try to write about things that matter employing what little humor, grace and theological insight I have in my cupboard.

I sensed that you and a few of the other Emergent Christians that mentioned me on their blogs got what I was trying to do with the Parable of Postmodernity. It seems like we both can laugh at ourselves, recognizing both the comic and serious natures of what we are about as Christians, knowing that we are a mixture of success and failure, sincerity and clinging hypocrisy. I am a stumbling, bumbling pilgrim trying to shine my little light in the midst of great darkness. I doesn't hurt to be smiling if someone happens to step close enough to ask what I'm going on about.

While I'm attempting to be more of a traditional Anglican, I am quite sympathetic to what I have seen from some of the Emerging Church. We are gripped by some of the same theo-truths. For that I rejoice.

May the Lord bless you and your family as you continue to participate in the worship of the Trinity.

Hack away.

NaNoWriMo - Away We Go

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Throughout the month of November I will be participating in something called NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month.

The basic idea is that I will be attempting, along with about 50,000 other people, to write a 175 page (50,000 word) novel from November 1-30. I was allowed to make notes, outlines and other planning work prior to Nov. 1. All prose writing has to begin after midnight.

The program has been going since 1999. Any questions you have about it will likely have an answer on their website. I would encourage you to spend a few minutes poking around over there.

Because of the hefty time commitment required (6 pages/1700 words a day), much of what I say here during the next month may pertain to my novel-in-progress. We'll see. I will certainly need to heed my own advice over the next month and

Hack away.