CruciformMe

The last couple episodes have left me thinking that Lost might have more to say about our current War on Terrorism than about the western vs eastern philosophy. Of course the problem is about the differences between western and (middle) eastern philosophies, but regardless, these thoughts still apply. If you don’t watch the show, this won’t make any sense to you. Turn off the computer and go rent the first season. It’s the only show that I watch.

The show has recently been challenging the idea of what the “Others” are. Sure, we still don’t know much about them. We still don’t know where all the kids they kidnapped went. We don’t know why they do what they do. However, it is becoming harder and harder to think of them as “other.” We’re beginning to see glimpses of their pasts, how they got to the island. While we still don’t understand everything that’s going on inside their heads, we realize now that they are not that different from those on the shore. Even with betrayal as a recurring possibility, Others now have names.

Is this the solution for the animosity that currently exists between our world and the Islamic world? I propose that among the “Islamic extremists,” there are fathers, sons, and brothers, with wives, mothers, and sisters. I do not claim to know everything that goes on inside their heads; in fact, I can’t begin to understand how they think. Although I see many problems with the United States, I still wish they wouldn’t have flown planes into our buildings. I don’t understand how a religion that is based on a peaceful guy can be twisted into what it now seems to be.

Wait, nope, I do understand that. Or, at least, I’ve seen it happen: right here in America with Jesus instead of Mohammed. Many of our religious leaders regularly inform us of God’s plan of destruction for other nations, while ignoring our very own Babylon. While the early church required converted soldiers to seek new vocation, we happily combine faith and the destruction of a terrorist, though he is another Imago Dei.

Don’t buy that? What about our nationalism, our pseudo-religion around a flag and a cross? We have convinced ourselves that we are somehow holier than all other nations, because our churches have tax shelter and our government-sponsored soup kitchens can have crosses on them. In a case of ethnocentrism comparable to the events detailed in Hotel Rwanda, we want the world to become like us and we’ll kill them until they submit. Ahh… it seems that “they” are not so Other after all. Our violence is as cyclical as theirs. Our “religion” is as twisted as theirs. They go about it in different ways, but they are still willing to lay down their lives for a goal that should never be realized.

And it continues, as long as the Others remain nameless and faceless and, well… other.

First, a video that profiles three of the ministries that happen because of Highland’s Community Ministry. Lots of my kids featured in the second half.

Second, today I was looking around Joe’s office for some keys, and I discovered that Joe is a big Henri Nouwen fan, and has many of his books. So I’ve started to work my way through them. Started today on Life of the Beloved. Conversational in style, he asserts that all of the great temptations, success, popularity and power (closely mirrors Foster’s money, sex and power, IMHO) all boil down to self-rejection. From Chapter 1:

When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions…. I am constantly surprised at how quickly I give in to this temptation. As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone or abandoned, I find myself thinking: “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.” Instead of taking a critical look at the circumstances or trying to understand my own and others’ limitations, I tend to blame myself - not just for what I did, but for who I am. My dark side says, “I am no good….I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected and abandoned.”

I forgot how hard it is to read Henri Nouwen. He matter-of-factly cuts to the heart of the inner monologue, the self-talk we give ourselves everyday. But instead of letting it be purely self-centered, he does it from the perspective of trying to make ourselves more prepared for ministry - which he defines as speaking to hearts the truth about who they are: “You are the Beloved.”

If you go to the old blog, it should tranfer you here.

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A day and a half until I don’t know whether to enjoy my newfound freedom or mourn that the kids are gone.

Every week I go through the same ritual of watching them leave. I’ll say, “Goodbye,” but not, “See you later.” I don’t say much, though - that would be awkward and a mistake. Mostly, I just watch them bouncing away, telling their parents about what happened that week. Generally, they are talking too excitedly to say anything to me, and I guess that’s a good thing. Thank yous and Goodbyes are not why I came back to camp this summer, anyway.

Perhaps I came back because of times like when I told a kid that if he didn’t stay with the group, I’d carry him over my shoulder the rest of the way. He turned around and said, “Do it! Please?” and then they all started arguing over who would get to go next.

Maybe it is because I never grow tired of asking, “Who Rocks the House?” (You know, my Jesus rocks the house!)

Maybe it is because of the times when I’ve noticed 6 to 8 little boys matching my every move while we’re singing. If I raise my hands, they do, too. If I clap and move around, I do it with several small shadows.

It’s possible, too, that it has something to do with how well I sleep at night. Schoolwork doesn’t lead to nights when I fall asleep right away. Working with children does, though; at least, it does until they leave. After they’re gone, I stay awake long into the night, imagining who they will become, wondering how much they’ll remember of the goofy counselor named Zach who let the babies pull on his beard and the boys ride on his shoulders.

This evening I had my second and final appointment with a therapist. Not that there was actually any therapy; I didn’t have much choice in the matter. It is required to officially declare myself a Bible major. The results: I’m not ready.

Not that the therapist said that. She was full of how my strengths will come in handy when it comes to working in ministry, especially if I end up going abroad. Apparently, flexibility and practicality are good things.

But that is not the whole story. She also told me what I need to work on. Nothing too huge or overwhelming, but the truth is clear. I’m not ready.

Yet. And that’s OK.

I remember a story that Sean told about when he did his test. Apparently, the test results showed that every single person who took it had “Issues with family of origin.”

Me, too. That’s OK, too.

I’m a walking contradiction. I’m cautious, but rebellious. I am practical in action, but abstract in thought.

That’s normal.

I’m an introvert. I’m overly independent and I keep my cards too close to my chest. Sometimes, I’m indecisive. Other times, I’m impulsive. What I do has everything to with my mood. And my mood changes a lot. I’m always at risk of depression.

At least, this is what the tests say. But it’s all normal, they say.

At the moment, more than anything else, I’m tired. KidQuest takes it out of you.