What A Friend We Have In Jesus...

Profile pic for Jesus Benyosef

There’s a guy on Facebook that has made a page for “Jesus Benyosef.” And I say “guy,” but I don’t really know who it is - it could be a gal... or a group of people of either gender... Of course “Benyosef” means “son of Joseph.” The profile reveals the following abut JB: Owner-Operator at Joseph & Son Construction Co. / Went to Nazareth High School / Lives in Nazareth, Israel. So... of course I had to send him a friend request. I mean, we’re already friends, right?

He has Facebook friends like Andrew and Simon Barjonas, John and James MacZebedee, and Philip Bethsaid and Mary, Martha and Lazarus Bethan. And the all through Holy Week they posted about their trip to Jerusalem, and how Jesus got really mad about the huge clearance sale they were having in the Temple... (Boy, was Caiaphas Benannas spitting mad!) And on Saturday, he posted the following: “[Jesus Benyosef] is having a pretty crappy weekend so far.” But... not to worry: on Sunday, he posted this: “[Jesus Benyosef] is feeling better today.” I’ll bet he was!

Simon Barjonas

Other times Jesus B. does stuff like engage in metaphysical discussions with Nicodemus Ben Isaac, check in at different spots in Israel and give thoughts on being baptized by his cousin (and Facebook friend) John TheBaptist Benzachar. 

Lately, Jesus has invited everyone to go on a journey with him, engendering a discussion thread with 60 comments. Turns out EVERYBODY wants to go! Including me. He, of course, is providing loaves and fishes for all for the journey. He also envisions gathering round the campfire at night singing, with camaraderie to spare.

Philip Bethsaid

Now, I know it’s not really Jesus, and I don’t know if it’s sacrilegious... but I find it completely charming. It sort of fleshes the whole thing out for me. Seeing these guys as actual (virtual) guys, commenting on events as they “happen,” bantering with each other (someone complaining about how bad Lazarus smells, for example)... 

It just feels so... immediate. I mean, I know the disciples were real guys, but it’s been so long since they walked the earth in their skin... the Bible is a reeeeeaally old book... When I read it, though, the concepts resonate with me. Of course they also mystify me. But even knowing the truth of it all, it seems so... conceptual. These guys, whoever they are, are sort of... bringing it home for me – someone who sits staring at a computer screen a lot of the time. 

Party at Mary and Martha Bethsaid's!

I guess it’s pretty funny to say that someone just posting things on Facebook is making it real for me... I think a big part of it is that they have put profile photos up that look like actual dudes that you might know. Jesus is especially handsome! The disciples are all handsome Semitic-looking guys, as they might have been. I mean, we know they were Semitic... we don’t know how good-looking they were! Mary Bethan posted a photo of guys sitting around her living room drinking beer and eating chips... one of their famous parties (Luke 10)?

Just like the people who made Godspell, the Cotton Patch Gospel and Jesus Christ Superstar, whoever is doing this is speaking the language of the day. Of course, these other pieces seem dated now, as I'm guessing this may also someday.  But right now, for people who are stuck behind a desk, staring at a computer, communicating with friends via the internet, this is a sweet taste of the good news. 

Godspell... groovy!

As we know, the internet – social networking, in particular – has done astounding things... even fomenting revolution in some places. It has always been amazing to me that the Christian movement was able to expand as it did without modern means of communication. I’m guessing horseback was the fastest any message could get from one place to another. Or maybe by sea? But it was GOOD news... and it spread from one man, to a few close friends, to crowds who may just have wanted to be fed and healed... or maybe they wanted a revolution. Then after Jesus’ death and subsequent resurrection, the message proceeded to move throughout “Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1)

Jesus Christ... Superstar!

Of course the disciples didn’t get that Kingdom had been restored at first. No, what they saw was their God hanging limply on a cross with his blood and water pouring out of His side. Of course when He refused to stay in the tomb, they must have thought, “NOW we’re cooking with rice!” It was during this time that one of the disciples asked, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” Of course, He did... but not as anyone expected... and part of it is still to come!

Is this little piece of ongoing internet performance art going to revolutionize anything? Like many things – Christian movies, books, music... it may be just “preaching to the choir,” as they say. And, as a card-carrying member of said “choir,” I find it a spicy whiff of Jesus and his friends, the life they must have lived, and what He continues to call us to. And as far as the rest – well you’ve heard that saying, “The Lord moves in mysterious ways”? Again and again, I have found this to be true. What I mean is, you never know who might stumble across it. And while it may not revolutionize the world, it may start an uprising in someone’s heart. 

Quenching My Inner Kenny

You're welcome...

Now that we’re back from Williamsburg (or as I sometimes call it in my mind, “Billsburg,”) we’re catching up on the shows we Tivo’d... like Mad Men, the Soup, Saturday Night Live and... okay, I’ll admit it – Eastbound and Down. 

Now, if you aren’t familiar with this lump of coal/gem of a show, it follows the zany exploits of Kenny Powers, aging minor league baseball player from Shelby, North Carolina. Currently playing with the fictional Myrtle Beach Mermen, Kenny is struggling to deal with new fatherhood and to reclaim his status as “team leader,” despite the rise of a despicable nemesis named Ivan – who has a haircut that is even WORSE than Kenny’s own curly mullet.

Now I’m not going to lie to you, this show is offensive. The language, the scatological and sexual references, the despicability of just about every character... I have a high tolerance, but I have to say, I am often offended while watching. Not shocked, exactly, although I suspect that's what the writers intend. No, I'm more... grossed out. But Tom laughs and snorts through the whole thing. I’m assuming it’s what they call “a guy thing.”

This baby will make you laugh.

I’m not saying I don’t find it funny... I do laugh a lot. The writing manages to be at the disgusting end of puerile and clever at the same time. Creator/star Danny McBride, who is, by the way, a native of NC, is a twisted sort of genius. He has stolen many a scene from more prominent actors.

Yes, there are plenty of belly laughs to be had – I always laugh at the baby. Although Kenny is quite possibly the most ill-equipped father figure in the history of mankind, he ends up hauling around his son, Toby, for a couple of episodes. He decorates Toby’s room with black light posters (one with a marijuana leaf) and weird statuary, mixes Quik into his milk and carries him in a zipped backpack... It’s appalling, but it’s reeeeally funny too.

Kenny’s behaviour is similarly appalling in every situation. He is arrogant, belligerent, offensive, supremely selfish, oblivious and, honestly, not very smart. And in between the laughing, I am also shaking my head and... judging him. I mean, I can’t even reprint any dialogue because it’s just tooooooooo nasty... But last night, I realised a hard thing. 

Kenny Powers.

You see, Kenny and me... we’re the same. I’m not saying I would stuff my child into a backpack, speak in a constant stream of intensely offensive and insulting profanity, and assert with utter confidence that I am the greatest baseball player (or any other thing) that ever lived. No... but if I spoke my honest mind all the time – let loose every crummy thought I have... then you’d know that I, too, am arrogant, belligerent, offensive, supremely selfish, oblivious and not very smart. Well, actually, I’m sort of part Kenny and part Steve, his sniveling, insecure doofus of a friend... These characters are nothing but ID, my friend. 

You’ve probably heard that expression, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Well, in this case, it’s not just an expression... because it’s truly by the sheer grace of God that I have any other kind of way of being... and I am so very grateful for the grace He gives to us while we are still Kennys... I mean, sinners... (But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5) If I read that chapter correctly, the gist of the lines following this verse is that if He died for us while we were sinners, how much more is He going to help us now that we belong to Him? Which is nice... because if I’m going to quench my inner Kenny, I need all the help I can get.

Thank you... Thank you very much.

The place mats that made Bill glad

Stores like Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma are fun to browse in, but at our income level, browsing is mostly what’s going on in there for us. Sometimes, though, they put stuff on sale, and we can’t resist. Like last winter when Williams-Sonoma put a Cuisinart ice cream maker with two freezer bowls on sale for $50... And sometimes they put the seasonal stuff on deep discount, and that’s always fun, 'cos our house is all about holidays. We love’em, I tell ya.

So the other day, when we saw these Beatrix Potter Peter Rabbit laminated cork-backed place mats on sale for $5 each, they pretty much jumped into my hands. So we brought them home and replaced, yes, the Christmas mats that were still somehow gracing our table. (Bill’s mat was so sticky and gross no matter how many times I cleaned it that I had to throw it away!) And that night when Bill was setting the table, he spotted them – brilliant, observant child that he is. He let out a little gasp, and ran up and hugged me, saying over and over: “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Of course my heart melted... Other times, when he’s having a great time – like last night when we let him stay up late to watch a movie with Rowan Atkinson who is famous for playing Mr. Bean – he’ll exclaim, “I love you, Mom!” (or “I love you, Dad!” – depending on who he’s with.) I have to say I’m glad when he does stuff like this because it shows that he’s not rocking that “sense of entitlement” I’ve heard about. No thanks to us, I might add – as parents go, we’re terribly indulgent. But I find it hard to not shower him with ... everything! Although I like to make sure he gets more affection and hugs than STUFF...

The movie that made Bill glad

So the other night, I woke up around 4:30 a.m... Grace tells me that this is normal as we get older. Nice. So after I had peed, I’m lying in bed and I suddenly felt huuuugely convicted: The way Bill acted when he saw those mats, the way he yells out, “I love you!” at random happy times... that’s how I should be behaving all the time with God. And, really, I hardly ever just thank God for things. Ooooppsss... Now, fortunately I have an oh-so-soft, but decidedly firm cushion of grace around me... but if God gets even a drop of the warm fuzzies I feel when Bill says thanks, then I should be doing it much more often. Every night, though my cooking is marginal at best, Tom says thank you after our dinner... whether I’ve made something from scratch or just thrown a couple of hotdogs on the George Foreman... And it’s always so nice to those two little words, “Thank you!”

So, I was lying in bed there feeling totally bummed at my failure to give them to God, the One who really, really warrants it. Even on a day like Thanksgiving, which is, of course, designed specifically for this purpose, I’m often more concerned with other things like watching the parade, fixing the meal, dealing with relatives... And at church, while we’re supposed to be singing and praising God, I’m thinking about the excellent arrangements, the harmonies I’m trying out, whether I’m embarrassing my husband by dancing a little jig, or what I’m doing the rest of the day...

I’ve been reading this crazy book by Neal Stephenson called Anathem, in which the intellectuals are cloistered like monks. They focus on intellectual concerns only, without considering questions of theology. When events cause the main character to leave the cloister and he meets an outside person who believes in God, he has the following thoughts: 

Every day should be for
giving thanks!

“If you sincerely believed in God, how could you form one thought, speak one sentence, without mentioning Him? Instead of which [religious people] would go on for hours without bringing God into the the conversation at all. Maybe his God was remote from our doings. Or – more likely – maybe the presence of God was so obvious to him that he felt no more need to speak of it than I did to point out, all the time, that I was breathing air.”

It would be great to think that that’s how it is with me – that I’m so into God, and so grateful, that I’m breathing it – but truthfully, I’m just distracted most of the time. And, most likely, ungrateful and feeling entitled. It’s not pretty, but... that’s what I’m working with here. Maybe the Bible urges us so often to be thankful because the writers know we have to be told – it doesn't come naturally to us.

So what did I do when I realized this wretched thought? Well, the only thing I COULD do at the moment... I lay there praying, “I’m sorry! Thank you!” over and over. Just like Paul says in Romans: “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” God Himself is the answer to our wretched ungratefulness! Mostly I think that ANY time my thoughts are drawn to God, it must be a gift from God Himself. So... I’m grateful that He pushed into my possibly peri-menopausal nocturnal musings and made me thankful, however brief that shot of light was. How to make it last? I don’t know... make a habit of counting my blessings? I guess that’s a good place to start... 

In the meantime, after you listen to this song by Sam and Dave, I’m going to guess that you’ll be feeling at least a little bit grateful.

Two Bettys

Hey, Jack White – I'll see YOU
at the Orange Peel!

Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you. (Exodus 20)

May is a big month for us this year: Bill’s 8th birthday, a “date” trip to Asheville to see Jack White at the Orange Peel (hahahaha... jealous?!), my niece’s high school graduation... My niece Gabriel and her parents live in Maryville TN - about a 6-hour drive from here, and ever since they sent us the date, we’ve been going back and forth about whether to go, what it would entail, and how to also accomplish seeing Tim Burton’s Dark Shadows movie on opening night, which happens to fall the Friday night before.

Johnny Depp as
Barnabas Collins

We had planned to all go as a family, giving my mom a ride, and stopping over in Asheville on Friday night where she would stay with Bill and Tom and I would enjoy the creeptacular exploits of Barnabas and various other Collinses... but when we learned that the ceremony would be at 10am on Saturday – with a late afternoon party to follow, that plan was sort of squashed. So now we’re thinking about maybe just me and my mom going. My husband, who has a low patience threshold, thinks it will drive me crazy, while I think it could be fascinating. Work, yes, but also fascinating. I think it could be like a zany road movie, only instead of wild guys or rebellious women, it would be us – imagine Nancy Reagan and... I don’t know... Roseanne Barr, maybe, on a road trip. Or to make the analogy more au courant... Sleek Betty Draper and ... this season's Betty Draper. 

and Roseanne Barr.

We're Nancy Reagan...

I know that it may be a frustrating trip... It takes my mom longer to decide what to order in a restaurant than it takes me to cook, eat and clean up dinner... which is weird, because all she ever orders is a house salad. And it takes her longer to get ready to go somewhere than it takes me to ... do almost anything. And rest assured, I am not commenting on the slowness of an elderly woman – she has been like this as long as I can remember. But you know what? I love to read, and I plan to have Neal Stephenson’s Anathem with me. Planning for frustration is very helpful, although one can’t possibly anticipate every possible frustrating situation... 

Or maybe Betty
Draper from
 last season...

and Betty Draper from
this season.

It might be fun to concoct my own private games to make the trip bearable - like I could  make a drinking game where I take a swig from a convenient hip flask every time she gives me advice about what to wear or what not to eat... or I could make a point of ordering the most greasy disgusting thing on the menu every time we eat and giggle to myself as she watches in horror while I inhale it and wipe my hands on my shirt... 

And I won’t deny that my elegant mom may also be planning ways to deal with my frustrating qualities. Maybe she’s going to take a swig every time I eat something gross or wear something embarrassing or mention God. Or maybe she hates my impatience and how I’m always, in her view, rushing around. This would not surprise me at all. Not that she’s the kind of person who would turn her frustration into a mocking game... I just mean that I am aware that I, also, may prove as difficult a travel companion to her as she may be to me. Maybe more so.  

And as fun as the mocking games might be, I think a much more entertaining way would be to throw myself into the trip, enjoying it for it is. While we are stuck in the car for all those monotonous hours on I-40, I would love to hear stories about her early years. Her mother – my grandmother Martin – was born in 1897, and would often surprise us by coming out with ideas that were shockingly Victorian. In her college photos she looks like a Gibson Girl. I’d love to hear more about growing up with THAT elegant lady. I’d love to know more about my dad, and more about their courtship and marriage. Now that I’m married, I would actually have something to compare it to. And what about world events? What does my mom remember of the Depression or World War II? What was her take on the sixties? What was going through her brain when she first saw hippies? 

Studs Terkel collected
first hand accounts. Maybe I
can get some from my mom.

I think that stuff would all be extremely interesting. After all, I love reading first-hand accounts of other times – like those gathered by Studs Terkel. Of course, it may be that taking care of five children distracted her from current events just the slightest bit. But that would be interesting too - to hear how she managed to raise five children. I mean, raising one child is wearing ME out!

If any of this is coming off as disrespectful to my the woman who gave me birth, I really don’t mean it to be. She’s an awesome lady who has accomplished a great deal... powering through hard circumstances, achieving great feats of life and living. I’m just saying...  it’s probably not going to be easy for an impatient, impetuous, sloppy, young(ish) woman to travel with a deliberate, dainty, hesitant older woman. But if anyone can do it, we can. We both have the delightful pleasure of being middle children, after all. In fact, I’ve occasionally wondered if any discord between us is not due to our differences, but to our similarity! If this is the case, I’m thinking I should be able to empathize and show grace more easily... or would I just get more frustrated when I see qualities I would change in myself? 

Check out commandment number V!

Just thinking about this is giving me kind of a headache, because it makes me think about my future with my child. Right now, he adores us... he says I’m beautiful and the best mom in the world. Sure, sometimes he’s frustrated... like I won’t come look at something RIGHT NOW... or buy him a $300 LEGO set... he’s even already embarrassed when I sing in public. But on the whole, he think’s I’m soooo great. I’m dreading, though, the day when I am a constant source of humiliation to him, too strict, hopelessly unhip, and just plain stupid. How much will I frustrate him? Especially since I am already old! I mean, when he’s 20, I’ll be... oh, it’s just too much to think about...! 

In the Bible, in several places it has to tell young people to respect and take care of the old people - heck it’s one of the big 10, right? Things going well for us in the land depend on honoring our parents. I’m thinking that if it were easy and obvious, the Biblical writers wouldn’t have to go on about it. I mean, if you had a crummy childhood due to some failing of your parents, it’s especially hard to honor them; and if your childhood was quite nice and your parents showed you the love... well, you still may be irritated now and then with them. It’s an odd relationship, after all. They have fed you, cared for you and wiped your bottom, so you have that history, but now you’re an adult and they are required to relate to you in a whole new way. That's got to be hard... Of course it’s easy for me to speculate about it because I have only seen one side. I wonder how it will be to be the parent of the adult child? Maybe I’ll ask my mom on the trip...

It's Like Candy from a Stranger!

Soul Asylum in the 90s

Last night on Facebook when I mentioned that I was having trouble putting together a coherent blog post, a friend commented that coherence is subjective and overrated. With that in mind, here goes... 

If I counted all the song references in this blog - all 125 entries - I would feel comfortable betting that the artist / group I refer to most is .... drum roll.... Soul Asylum. I don’t really know all that much about this band that came out of Minneapolis in the 80s/90s... But I do know a good song when I hear it, and they have plenty.

I never got to see Soul Asylum in the 90s, when they were huge - riding the wave of their hit Runaway Train, dating Winona Ryder, cameo-ing in Gen Y movie Reality Bites... but later, I got to see them at one of those outdoor downtown concerts in Raleigh, where everyone is drinking plastic cups of beer and wearing khaki shorts and Tommy Bahama shirts. And they acted kind of obnoxious, really. I think they had been told to watch their language, but... being a rock-and-roll band, you know they did just the opposite... 

A more recent snap

But the songs... oh the songs... They were inspired and inspiring, great melodies, soaring guitars, punkish drum... They have lyrics that make your mind soar, over anthemic-ish, hard driving music that made me dance with my arms in the air, embarrassing my husband no small amount.

I don’t think he loved it like I did. He said, I wonder how those guys feel having to play crummy shows like this, but my thought was something like: well, if I had written songs like they’ve written, I would be riding THAT, not the size and kind of shows I played. Of course, this is easy for me to say, as they probably have families to support.

I also recollect having seen Bob Dylan play at Kings Dominion once and thought the very same thing... it looked like the fall of the once-mighty – but, again, if I had written a song like Blowin’ in the Wind, why would I care?

It’s a little like the Christian life... As Soul Asylum says, “It ain’t on what you can depend, it’s who you can depend on!” You don’t have to BE SOMEBODY because you HAVE Somebody. Or, because you have Jesus, you ARE somebody - HIS! And as Soul Asylum says, “When you watch over me I am blessed.” See I could go on quoting this stuff all day... Of course they also say things like, “Sent on a mission to see just how much sh*t one man can take!” (same link as above!) On the other hand, barring the rude word, couldn’t Job say the same thing? Doesn’t everybody feel this way from time to time?

I guess I have to qualify, too, that I am not intensely familiar with ALL of Soul Asylum’s albums. The two that I have worn out are Grave Dancer’s Union and Candy from a Stranger. I highly recommend these if you like thoughtful lyrics paired with powerful, well-arranged grunge/rock/pop music. I can’t really speak for the other albums, as I haven’t memorized them as I have these two.

Primarily written by lead vocalist Dave Pirner, their songs speak closely to my personal take on the Christian life. And not just in the easy way of interpreting love songs to be about God’s love. No, they’ve got songs about more complex concepts, like – among other things – repentance, humility, heaven, stepping out in faith, the dark night of the soul, shedding the constraints of our fallen humanity, and spiritual formation. 

I wish Dave could know how
he writes my heart...

I have not found any evidence in their publicity or online bios to show that they have any particular religious affiliation, so if they are Christians, they’re pretty secretive about it... I mean, they could be, but there’s no CLEAR evidence of it (such as, wearing WWJD bracelets, leading worship in their local church or doing any of the things on the Stuff Christians Like blog)... But it’s just so obvious to me that I have to wonder what they’re talking about, if they’re not talking about ... the Christian life. Would Dave Pirner be surprised to know that his lyrics reek of Christianity? Does he do it on purpose? Or is it just that when people write about hope and love and humanity, are they bound to stumble over Christian themes if they’re not careful....?

It makes me wonder if he’s not so Close that he just needs Somebody to Shove him... Does he know it? Is that why he sings on his solo album, “And peace will be with me. Yes, I’ll have my day.” That would be cool, wouldn’t it?!

Of course, when I listen to their music, it doesn’t matter to me what their religious affiliation is, because I can interpret the songs however I want to, right? In fact, maybe I’m just reading the Jesus into it because that’s how my brain works. That doesn’t matter to me either. I mean, if it reminds me of the grace I need so badly then I’ll take it! Especially if it rocks like Soul Asylum...

Pop Quiz: What do Mick Jagger and St. Augustine have in common?

Satisfaction was not forthcoming
to Mick Jagger...

I heard on the radio today – and here it is in the Huffington Post – that God’s current approval rating is... 52%! That’s higher than Obama and John Boehner and many other public figures, but ... geez... you’d think the Creator, Almighty God would be pleasing more than roughly half of us! I mean, what the...???

Although... If I’m completely honest, I can dig where they’re coming from. Because I can’t say that I am always 100% pleased with how things are going. And some times in my life are worse than others. Right now, I’ve got it pretty easy, relatively speaking. I couldn’t say the same for other eras - like when I had anorexia, or when my business wasn’t doing too well. But I have noticed that even when things are going fairly well, my mind will find something to unsettle it, sad to say. 

Most of the time I’ve presence of mind enough to realize that my misfortunes are often my own fault or are part of the fallen world we live in. If you buy into the Christian world view, you believe that the world was created perfect, but when Adam and Eve ate the apple in the garden of Eden, everything went to hell. Figuratively, speaking... and literally, too, pretty much. 

...or St. Augustine.

Now, Jesus came to redeem our fallen souls, but we’re still stuck here in this place where there’s natural disasters, people get sick, make bad choices, and sabotage themselves and others. 

I said “most of the time,” because, well... not always. There are times that I feel like God might not be holding up His end of the bargain. If I stand back and ask myself, “what bargain are you referring to?” then I have to admit that maybe it’s me that isn’t up to snuff.

And knowing the cause of some hard time I am having – fallen world, own stupidity - doesn’t make it easier. I may not be blaming God, but I still sometimes wonder why He doesn’t HELP me more, or SHOW me more clearly what He would have me do. I have found myself asking Him the question, “What purpose is this trial serving?” Of course, He has His reasons, but what I am saying, if I’m honest, is “Stop it because there’s no reason for it.” Like I would know.

I guess it all comes back to Job. If anyone had the right to complain, to give God a low approval rating, it would be him... his family was killed, he was covered with boils, he lost everything he had. But when he said, “What the hell...?” God said, “I made everything and keep everything running – who are you to question me?” To which Job said, “I’m shutting up now.” 

On the other hand, the Psalms show that struggling with God is perfectly normal and acceptable. The Psalmist has a lot on his mind, and he doesn’t mind letting it all hang out. Sometimes he’s completely in love with God, but sometimes he’s all, “What’s going on here? Give a guy a break!” King David himself – a man after God’s own heart – penned lots of these “songs,” in which he wrestles with God in a very real way. I think it’s pretty important to talk to God and be honest with Him. He knows anyway, right? Yes, Job and the Psalms are very helpful books in the Bible for sufferers... We learn that we are not alone. That God has His reasons.

The Replacements dared us to tell
 them they were satisfied.

I’m pretty sure that being discontented is part of the human condition... I think that God can help us rise above it (Paul said: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”) But... in general, it is more like us to be disgruntled. Look at the world we live in. While it has a lot to recommend it – nature and art and love and friends and family... it is also a drag. Why do you think Mick Jagger can’t get no... sa-tis-fac-tion... or why the Replacements sang, “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m satisfied”? And even though Paul apparently reached a supernatural state of contentment, it is my view that we won’t see honest-to-goodness rest from our struggles on this side of heaven. 

And Soul Asylum recognized
it as homesickness.

Yes, I think we are homesick for heaven... like Soul Asylum says in Homesick, “And we are not of this world / And there’s a place for us / Stuck inside this fleeting moment / Tucked away where no one owns it / Wrapped up in a haste, / And by mistake got thrown away / And oh, I am so homesick / But it ain’t that bad / Cause I’m homesick for the home I’ve never had.” 

And that, in my opinion, is why 48% of us are not too thrilled with how God is running things. As St. Augustine said, “Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee.” 

Treading the Thin Line

That’s right, I’m an Associate Producer... and I've got the t-shirt to prove it! I wish it meant more, but all it really means is that I gave a (minimal) amount towards the financing of a moving picture show! I don’t know what they used my dough for – supposedly to fine-tune things, as they were almost done when I contributed.

What’s the movie? Blue Like Jazz: The Movie. Now, I don’t know what kind of movie it will turn out to be, but the book it springs from – Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality, by Donald Miller – is pretty fantastic. Miller writes in a sort of episodic, self-reflective style, sort of like me – but a million times better and more insightful, of course... He examines from all angles the implications of being a Christian as a young person surrounded by hipsters in Portland, Oregon, and as a person who struggles to be true to himself and to God – two things that are not necessarily mutually exclusive, he discovers.

A bad pic of my
Associate Producer Tee

Despite the fact that it is a movie about faith, made by Christians, the movie's director, Steve Taylor, has expressed the fear that his movie – so lovingly wrought – would get lumped in with all the other movies labeled “Christian.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that... His point was that in the mind of critics and the public this category has come to imply certain things about quality. Specifically (this is a quote from his blog):

- Sentimentality trumps substance

- Good intentions trump artistry

- All conflict must be tidily resolved

- “Safe for the whole family” is a de facto requirement

- Or as writer David McFadzean summarized, Christian movies are like porn – poorly lit, poorly acted and you always know how they’re going to end.

I guess Taylor imagines that once this label is slapped on his (excuse me – OUR) movie, discerning movie goers won’t give it a chance. He actually felt encouraged that the movie had been poopoo-ed by some “establishment” Christian groups for its depictions of campus life at Reed College. I take his point, but I almost wonder if the movie might be perceived as too Christian (see above) by picky movie-goers and too "wild" for Christians. I wondered if he was maybe shooting himself in the foot, but then a friend pointed out that this is not too far from what people said about Jesus back in the day? Here's what Jesus said about it in Matthew 19: "For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ (ie. there's no pleasing you people...)

That's why I don't mind being part of this sub-set of people who try to tread this thin line – or maybe it's a sparsely populated wide open space – that overlaps both camps in some places... 

Matthew Sweet

When I gave the money for the movie, my husband said, “What if it’s not any good? Then your name will be in the credits!” But you know, I don’t really mind if a picky viewer like him doesn’t like it. I also don't mind if the Christian "establishment" doesn't like it. And I don’t mind what label gets slapped on it. Critical praise and box office love would be nice, but really, I just care if it tells the truth. And really, if NO ONE EVER gets their knickers in a twist, you might not be telling much truth.  That's how I view my blog – I love it if I get a lot of clicks, or people complimenting me on it, but when it comes down to it, I just want to try to tell the truth – to be true to myself, and to God. Like Donald Miller, in Blue Like Jazz. 

(PS....Here's a fantastic song for you by Matthew Sweet: The Ugly Truth... and here's the rock version.)