Revelry

Track #2

"Revelry" by Kings of Leon

Feel free to listen as you read:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZyGWg0uqkw

I think of the night. It is dark and cold, I can see my breath as I exhale; and the moon is so bright that I mistake the glowing white orb for a streetlamp. The stars are out, crystal clear, and I am standing outside of my apartment, facing the track field. To my left is Lacey and Riley's apartment, and one apartment block over from them is Kari and Jen's apartment. Behind them and around the corner is Matt, Josh, Conner, and Adam's apartment. Dax, Joe, and I live together, and on the other side of our wall live Dani, Kristen, and Ann-Jean (who has an amazing morning voice, by the way ;)  These are just some of my friends in the Olsen apartments surrounding the courtyard. At almost any time I could go and hang out in one of these apartments; they were just a short walk away. And now they're not. I knew I was thankful for my friends at the time, but even still it's hard not to regret not taking full advantage of those months at that apartment. It's hard not to get sappy over even the most mundane things, like Chocolate-Chip Cookie Dough/Oreo blizzards (again, thanks to Ryan). I miss walking over and just hanging out. I miss being able to count on Matt coming over at night; and I miss Joe yelling obscenities at the most random things (like Home Improvement or John McCain). However, I DO NOT miss the life-size cardboard cutout of McCain staring creepily at me from the corner of our apartment. Though, it was hilarious when Joe snuck him into our closet to surprise Dax in the drowsiness of the morning.

A big thanks goes to Ryan who introduced me to Kings of Leon, without whom I would not have one of my favorite albums of all time. "Only By The Night" could take up a whole handful of posts all by itself. But that is not the subject of this post. This song serves two purposes: 1) it recalls a few really good memories, and 2) the sound of the song itself portrays the feelings perfectly that it conjures up inside me. But it is not so much revelry of which I daydream, but the line right before. "The time we shared, it was precious to me."

The strongest memory I have when I listen to this song is Wall Ball. Occasionally I would try to take a break from my homework and walk over to the apartment of two of my best friends, Ryan and Phil. And if I chose to head over to their apartment at the right time, I could catch them in the middle of a game of wall ball. You'd never imagine you could get such pleasure by throwing a racquetball at a wall and a broken light. And then after the game there was always the chance we'd go to DQ for some blizzards or to Jack in the Box. The random adventures may be what best characterize life in college. That and the nearness of your best friends. I loved that time and that place. And I love those friends of mine. Though, there are always regrets. Did I spend too much time doing homework, too much time at the library, too much time alone in my room? Did I miss out on too many basketball games or midnight-movies? I suppose so. But regret doesn't get you anywhere. You can't get back the time you had, whether you enjoyed it and took advantage of it or not. That's a big lesson I am learning. So what do you do? I want to say that you just remember the good times for what they were. But that sounds too easy. You use those memories to make sure you take full advantage of everything you have at your fingertips right now. And if you feel regret, let it make you understand the importance of even the most mundane evening.

My conclusion (as hard as it is to accept): I need to become a more avid user of Facebook.... Maybe I'll become part of Matt's Mafia family....maybe.

Thanks for listening,

Seth

Steppenwolf

An old and generous book can be as strong as a shot of whiskey, but as smooth as the clearest wine; as intoxicating as an unexpected kiss. In my room I have a rocking chair. It's nothing noticeable - not an antique or anything; not the chair of an aged gentleman or a widowed grandmother. It is more like a child's chair. The back comes not to my neck, and its design is simple, bordering on the uncomfortable if used for too long. But I sit in this chair and read on occasion. I play some nocturne's of Chopin to drown out the background noise; but more in order to set a soft, gentle, and unobtrusive tone in the room. And then after I have sat down and I've got the music playing behind me, I read a bit of Hermann Hesse. Steppenwolf. But before I get two pages in for tonight's reading I catch the smell of something that does not smell like Africa at all.

No, this smell is something of home, something that I am fond of, something that puts me right back at home. It is the smell of this old book. It is hard to describe. It is not living, the book, so it can't be the smell of something that has died. And indeed, the smell of something that has died has a negative connotation to it anyhow. Instead, as with a wine or a memory, this smell is something that gets better with age. It is not musty, it is not ragged or derelict. It is unique, and the moment you smell it you know exactly what it is. Those are old pages! They are not plastic, they are not coated. These pages are simply wood pulp, dye, and ink. Nothing more. Nothing fancy. But I like this smell. I absolutely love this smell. I like what it makes me think of. It is simple, and it reminds of a place that is comfortable, a place that is familiar; a place I call home.

West Nile

West Nile virus received its name because, ironically, ground zero was
in East Africa along the west of the banks of the Nile river. Luckily
for me, Mukono is EAST of the Nile, right?....... wrong! (Not that
that would help, but fortunately I have heard next to nothing about
West Nile since being over here - at the source of the Nile)

And magnificently unrelated to West Nile virus is Malaria, which
unfortunately (and very seriously) is quite prevalent in East Africa.

Incidentally, I just got bit by a mosquito for the first time since
I've been over here. Fun stuff.

The Finer Things

A sigh of peace washed over me. I was not expecting this feeling - all I was expecting was some clean laundry. But as I stood before all those garments hanging on the line, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed. Today, I did not have to hand wash my clothes. Today, I got all of my clothes machine-washed. The shear volume of what was clean overwhelmed me. It normally takes me about an hour to wash maybe three shirts, a few under-garments, and a pair of pants. But today, that machine was able to wash seven shirts, a towel, and maybe 10 pieces of underwear. That, my friends, is something to rejoice over.

And then on my walk home from the Bartels' home (where the laundry machine was) I ran into Gwyn and her friend Lisa. It was a timely visit, as she just got done baking chocolate-chip cookies.

Needless to say, I walked away from this afternoon with an incredible amount of clothes, clean and dry, and one of the most delicious morsels of food I have tasted in quite some time.

It was a good Saturday.

A Sentimental Gospel

I'm thinking that we have made the Gospel too sentimental. Now, I'm a
sentimental guy, so don't get me wrong - I adore Jesus and I cherish
the love that he has for me. But I believe we have given Jesus a focus
different from that with which he came to earth. I think that, for the
most part, we look at the teachings, life, and death of Jesus as us-
centered. We think that Jesus hung on the cross and all the while he
was thinking of us, thinking of those who would be saved by his
sacrifice.

But a personal Jesus that offers personal salvation is an
individualized religion, while the big picture I believe Jesus had in
his sights included all of creation, and it pointed to a reality, a
Kingdom, we could not even begin to imagine. And I think that instead
of being us-centered, I believe Jesus had his sights on that Kingdom
and on his Father, and all the while he was inviting us into something
much larger than ourselves. Call it semantics, but I think there is a
large difference between saying "I have been saved by Jesus" and
saying "Jesus saved me." The former is "me" centered and the latter is
Jesus' perspective. The difference is in making Jesus the subject of
the sentence, not us. Jesus is the doer. Further, there is a large
difference between saying, "Jesus came for me" and saying "Jesus came
to invite me (and all of us) into something larger." The former makes
an end goal out of saving me, while the latter tells of how Jesus'
"saving" me is part of something much, much larger.

I believe Jesus came for the Kingdom and he came for God, and a
crucial part of that involves inviting us into God's story; God is
working for the redemption of all creation, not just humans; and Jesus
came for much more than our personal salvation, but for the redemption
and liberation of all creation from the ills of a fallen state - and
part of that involves the forgiveness of sin and the process of being
saved, healed, and delivered (salvation) from the power of sin over
us. But that freedom from sin is not an end in itself and it is not
just so we can run around and be happy and care-free - that freedom
allows us to participate in the larger story that Christ is inviting
us in to. That freedom allows us to get up out of the pit we find
ourselves in and run headlong toward the end which Christ himself is
running - the reign of God and the redemption of all that God has
created.

Just some thoughts. Thanks for listening,
Seth

My Whole World's Keeper

Did you see the movie My Sister's Keeper? If not, here's the run-down. At the age of 5 or 6, Kate Fitzgerald is diagnosed with cancer. Kate's mom, Sara Fitzgerald, quits her career as a lawyer, her aunt begins working only part-time, and little Anna is engineered in order to save Kate's life. The plot of this story is irrelevant; what I want to focus on is the reality of such a situation.

At any moment our lives could change forever. We could wake up to find our daughter sick and later that day find that she has cancer; or we could be driving along, minding our own business, and then not have enough time to stop before we hit a child that runs out in to the road. Forever changing our lives, when we were simply on our way to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. But there are countless examples. A father that has a heart attack, a sister that falls down a flight of stairs. Parents that lose their jobs, or a hurricane that rips our lives from our grasp along with the ground beneath us. And even more simple examples - a bill that can't be paid, or a meal that we can't afford. Depression that overturns a normal and happy life. Mental and physical breakdown. With every day there is the possibility of unforeseen tragedy.

So when things like that hit us and we no longer stand firm, strong, and happy, what does our life turn in to? For Sara Fitzgerald, she turned her whole life around in response to such tragedy and in the attempt to fulfill one goal: "I am not going to let her [Kate] die." And that became her life.

What I am getting at is this: the Fitzgerald family represents all of us. And the Fitzgerald family represents a cluster. We all live in small clusters. Clusters of family or friends or a mix of the two. We have our own worlds. And when something threatens that cluster, what is our response? Will it be like Sara? She devoted her whole life to her daughter. Cooking, cleaning, keeping Kate germ free. So what is the balance between my life and your life? What is the balance between my life and everyone else's life? What am I supposed to live for? Who am I supposed to live for? Where am I supposed to live?

We all have options, and in light of Christ, what do those options mean for us? On the one hand we can respond to what we have been dealt, so to speak. We can focus on my life, on my friends, on my lover, on my family, on my children. And what is wrong with that? Is there anything wrong in that? Many, I assume, would find it honorable for a mother or a father to dedicate their lives to the safety, health, and happiness of their family. And surely that is no small feat. It's not as though that life has been thrown away. Those are actual lives we're talking about.

But what do we do, then, when we are faced with life in Christ, the fellowship of the Body, and the new identity we receive as a son/daughter of God? When we are born again, we are born into a new family, a cosmic family that spans over all of humanity - we are born into a family with millions and billions of fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters.

And where does our responsibility lie?

I cannot give out money to every beggar that I pass on the street. I cannot tend to every orphan. I cannot teach every uneducated child. I cannot feed every hungry mouth. I cannot entertain every sad and lonely person. So what am I to do?

Where is the balance between complete neglect of others and/or complete neglect of myself and my family? How am I to live responsibly? To whom am I responsible? Would it not be honorable to live for my wife, my children, my parents, my siblings and my relatives? If I gave my life for those that are near to me, that would not be nothing? That's at least 10 people! That doesn't seem like much, but it's better than being completely apathetic and not doing anything.

And yet God opens my eyes daily to all the people that do not have parents so willing or able. For the beggars, the orphans, the homeless, the lonely, the depressed, the sick, the dying, the hungry, the thirsty - my heart cries out and I am left speechless, and I feel incapable. In the midst of such great need, I do not want to completely resign to apathy, but I am tempted to yield to my cluster. I am tempted to close the circle. Not to be cold or inhospitable to those in need, but merely as a response to seeing my own limitations.

Is it bad for me to give such weight to these so-called "limitations?" Or shall I have faith that Christ in me makes all the difference, and that through Christ these "limitations" mean nothing? If so, what does that look like, and what does that mean? Where does the rubber hit the road? How does that nice "churchy" thought actually translate into reality? I want to be able to do the good that I am able to do. I want to be do the good that Christ has called me to. But what is that? And what does that mean? What does that mean for me? What does that mean for my family?

There are inevitable problems with the cluster though. When you live in a cluster that means that everyone else is not in the cluster. "They" are them and you are "you." When you live in a cluster you do anything for that cluster. You go to any length to protect that cluster. Sara Fitzgerald was willing to do anything, so she and her husband had a donor baby, Anna - created for the sole purpose of donating various parts of her body for the health of her sister Kate. Or, as another example, America goes to war. Japan goes to war. Uganda goes to war. Palestine goes to war. Do whatever you must to protect the cluster. But then what do we do when we are born again into a Kingdom that has no borders, no ethnic or geographic boundaries? What do we do when we are born into a worldwide family?

To fan this already confused flame even more, Christ is recorded as saying, "Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." (Matt.10:37) This, along with many other passages in the New Testament make it sound like any loyalty to our immediate family that supersedes loyalty to Christ or to any other member of our human family is selfish and not "worthy of Christ." The Kingdom of God expands our cluster, or, actually, it disintegrates our cluster until there are no more boundaries. But then what does that make of my family? Who are they to me? And what is my loyalty to them? What is my loyalty to every other human being on earth? Do I have an equal loyalty and responsibility for everyone? Or is it on a sliding scale? Is my responsibility for my family higher than my responsibility for the 43 million orphans around the globe that I don't know?

There are a lot of questions here. And not many clear answers. I guess we'll just see what happens. But, I suppose before I figure out the mysteries of life, I will at least live today as intentionally as I can. And that's all I can do right now.

Thanks for listening,

Seth

Breathing

(If you haven't yet, you might find the post directly previous a good preface)

"Breathing" by Yellowcard

Feel free to listen to the song as you read: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCNnnZ84UB8

This song is in a playlist entitled "Inspirational" in my iTunes. I'm not sure exactly why it's in that playlist other than that it is fast, loud, and I can totally rock out to it. I had always heard of Yellowcard, but I never really listened to them. Are they Christian or not? I knew a lot of my Christian friends listened to them, but I never knew. I still don't know. I have my assumptions... 

When I listen to this song I have a very clear and very strong memory come to mind. I had heard this song on the radio once or twice, but I was surprised when I heard it coming through the speakers of the van that Parable drove during the summer of 2007. I think it was on Lacey's iPod. We were just coming back from spending the day driving out to a very beautiful part of Oregon's coast (I forget what beach it was exactly), but it was where I took this picture:

Throughout the summer we had a number of songs that we dubbed as "ours." This was not one of those songs. But I do believe we resorted back to this song on a number of occasions whenever we needed to blast the speakers and just get lost in the noise for a while (or not have to hear each other's voices for a while ;)

I loved that summer. Sure, every now and then we all got tired of one another (and still to this day my blood-pressure shoots up whenever I hear the words "Mickey Mouse," but that is a story for another time). But, I have no idea what my life would look like right now without that summer and those friendships in my life. I gained some of my most important friendships from that summer. Honestly, without that summer, without those experiences, and without those friendships, my life would be so completely different than it is right now.

I thank God for that summer. I thank God for those friends. I am certain that I never would have had an equal opportunity, space, or time to form the friendships that I did with Lacey, Hannah, and Joe (don't worry Dax, you were already on that list). We became close - as friends, as spiritual pilgrims. Together, we learned a lot of lessons; and we asked a lot of questions. It was during that summer and because of our conversations that I began asking the kind of questions I did - questions about God, about salvation, about my call, about being a pastor. That summer was a turning point in my life. My faith finally began to feel like my own - it finally began to feel real, something truly living and moving.

I cannot express enough my eternal thanks for those friends of mine. Surely, for the rest of my life I will cherish my relationships with Dax, Hannah, Lacey, and Joe. You four are four of my closest friends. I love you. More than I can express... more than I can even comprehend. I love you. It is not a thought, but a feeling inside me, a feeling that surpasses even my own understanding. My life has been shaped by your influence in my life. And I am eternally grateful. Wherever you may be today, I wish you well, and I pray that you are daily seeing God teach you and lead you in directions you have never expected.

And I extend that prayer to all of my friends that have been equally influential, but, because NNU would not allow a group of 30 to travel, were not a part of that summer.

Honestly, without exaggeration, I thank God with the sweetest of prayers for all of my close friends and the influence which you have had on my life. I love you all.

Thank you for listening,

Seth

P.S. That was also the summer in which Lacey broke a hotel window trying to scare us. 

This broken window, in fact ; )