Surrendering to the Great Abyss (by Adam Miller)

I saw a video a month or so ago showcasing one of my favorite filmmakers, Salomon Ligthelm. In this beautifully-shot short narrative, Salomon talks about his experience as a filmmaker in the secular world, and how the talents he's been given is not for himself, but for others. The point of creating, building, making, is not for the artist, but to serve everyone else. That is something I must continually remember when shooting, editing, directing, etc. Any gifts God has given me is not for myself, but for other people. It is a surrendering of those gifts. Salomon would ask it, "Have you surrendered yourself to the Great Abyss?"

Create

"In the beginning, God created..."
The opening line of that well known and little understood book...drum roll please...the Bible. I think this text often gets lost in the whats and whos and whys and hows, "...the heavens and the earth," or "...Adam and Eve," or "...that gosh darn, pesky apple," etc. and I think we often lose the impact of that first line: In the beginning, God CREATED. The action. God created.

cre·ate \krē-ˈāt, ˈkrē-ˌ\ : to make or produce (something) : to cause (something new) to exist :  to produce (something new, such as a work of art) by using your talents and imagination    

God created. Creating. To create. In the beginning, that's kinda what God was up to, and it's kinda what God keeps being up to in our lives. Imagining, plotting, dreaming, producing, making something from nothing. Creating.

A Trio of Heartbreakers

If you've been following the Mozambique Initiative's goings ons in the last month, you've probably heard about this jazz trio that was here visiting all the way from Mozambique, bumping around the state in a church-van-turned-tour-bus. For three weeks my mission was to cart around three amazing musicians and one full-time representative while not losing any of them or accidentally driving off of a cliff. Mission accomplished! My job duties ranged from band manager to bus driver to translator to lead singer depending on the circumstances. Easy, right?

What if?

What if we've got this all wrong?
What if it's about becoming small instead of becoming big?
What if we actually need less rather than more?
What if the least is really the greatest?
What if success is measured by stepping down the ladder rather than climbing up it?
What if we became acquainted with the poor rather than with campaigns with pretty pictures of the poor?
What if we spent time with our neighbor rather than theologized about our neighbor?
What if we lived where we could make a difference rather than where we felt the most comfortable?
What if we chose to be participants rather than consumers?
What if the one guy in the front who talks the most really doesn't have the answers?
What if the one talking doesn't have to be a guy at all?
What if the last one was first?
What if we have big questions and live them out loud?
What if we've been lulled to sleep by the drone of mediocrity?
What if we wake up?
What if we wake up?
What if we wake up?

Education Station

I'm a huge fan of education.  Like in a big way. Clearly, I would never have endured the lunacy of getting a doctoral degree if I didn't feel a deep commitment to the educational process for better or worse...and it IS sheer madness to even wade into these dark and dreadful academic waters (anyone who tells you differently is trying to get you to apply to their doctoral program). My love of education is not about the degrees that ensue or the letters I find strung behind my name like some unintelligible caboose at the end of a train.

Because it's Funny

I posted something snarky on Facebook the other day after receiving this nasty and biting email (names and identifiers have been changed):

Sarah,

How many times does it take to get you to change my e-address from this one to iamajerk@gmail.com???? Maybe "third times a charm."

Curmudgeon

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The Light of the World

I spent an hour on the phone yesterday with a foul-mouthed, rockabilly, former-comedian-turned-pastor who does church by feeding homeless people in a park and having drinks with the local riffraff in neighborhood bars. I was at the end of my rope with many things about how people do "church" and "christianity" and needed an infusion of reality. Ask and ye shall receive.

We talked about how sermons suck and how neither of us could give one hot damn about what some white, middle-class dude says from a shiny pulpit. We talked about how we don't want to hear about Three Steps to Finding Your True Self, or Why Jesus Wants You to Have a BMW, or How To Feel Comfortable in Suburbia. It's empty. And our generation knows this in its core, but it seems that our lethargy and desire for comfort get the best of us.

You see, everyday I work with people who are literally, LITERALLY fighting for their lives because they lack safe water and food. Because their government is corrupt and 13 year old children carry around guns. Because they are ridden with malaria and typhoid and hepatitis and HIV/AIDS and there is no medical care. My job centers on not only helping to provide water and food and safety and medical care, but also asking WHY these people don't have water and food and safety and medical care, and working to change this system. One step at a time. My sincere hope (and ALL of my eggs are in this freakin' basket) is that our FAITH tells us something about how to do this. That the Spirit is the catalyst to changing our world. That somehow, light will shine in the darkness, and darkness will not overcome it. I need a faith that speaks to these realities. I need it. I'm desperate for it.


What I want to see from our "churches" is how faith compels us to live differently. I want strategies for loving radically and living out loud. I want people to learn not just how to give their money, but their lives, and their hearts, and their time, and their energy. This world is dark, where is the light? How, in God's great name, do we shine??  What does this man called Jesus, who hung out with sinners and drunkards and prostitutes and people who are poor have to say about all of this?? My hunch is that I'm more likely to find answers to these questions while talking with a foul-mouthed pastor who hangs out in bars than in a pew in suburbia-land.

Between F-bombs and crass jokes, my rockabilly pastor-turned-dear-friend seemed to be on to something. Maybe it's not about a new flat screen TV, and light shows, and great sound boards, and perfect sermons. Maybe it's more about simply hanging out with people who are lonely and poor. Maybe it's about being church, as opposed to going to church. Maybe it's about living church, as opposed to attending church.