Life's a flood

It's been 10 days since I've been here. Here being this blog, an ethereal place that can be anywhere now thanks to satellites. I've been here 5 years, here is Athens, first state-sponsored (socialism) center of learning. Named for that ancient, classic city of learning and open-thought. Where Paul conversed with religious men who wanted to honor even that which they were ignorant of. I've been here way too often in my short-life, and shorter-career.

Here is a place of fear and self-doubt that I'm "not supposed to be." What? Just because I'm training to work with the Church and for The King, why can't I be frustrated in my faith. Just because I'm "leading" people I can't have a moments doubt of what direction I'm going. Why am I not entitled to the same emotions and feelings everyone else has. People complain about clergy not knowing what it's like to live in this world. Where do we live, Mars? It seems some people believe the "church men" live on that red planet named for an imaginary warrior. Wouldn't my fears make you feel better now that I'm more like you? No!? People want someone who will kick against the goad with their face to the wind, screaming into the night with fearless bravery. Let me tell you, fear begets courage. Courage, bravery, reckless abandon: these are all words to describe fear that has been choked down into the gut where it rest in a bitter pit. It is ever present and ever painful. And, we are called to accept this because by it we remember the One who was afraid and followed through anyways.

This is picking up in the middle of the story and in the middle of a conversation I'm having with myself. So let's begin with the current story.

Before school resumed I had lunch with a student. He had posted on his Facebook page how much he hated Christians, Christianity, and church. OK, a lot of people hate church, fine. Join the rest of everyone, your not the first. Christianity is a bit of a stretch, in its form as "church," ok, that's just a repetition of the latter, as a moral system, maybe if you hate love. Christians though? Which ones? The televangelists, politicos, talking heads and hate-mongering sign-waving wack jobs? Me too. Or, the family that has loved you for the past two years and has desperately tried to connect to your life so that you won't have to endure alone? Because if you hate them, we have a problem, because you hate me, and I don't hate you. So we ate at the lovely Christian chicken cafe of the south. I thought it was ironic, but he didn't seem to notice. We conversed for a while and then I finally blurted out why I asked him to lunch. (I'm not good at beating around the bush.) He asked me if I wanted the answer he was giving or the truth. Well, that's not a good way to start a discussion. The answer was he was tired of the dogma. (Ok, time out. What do you think dogma is?) He defined dogma as the way people acted in church about stuff. That's not dogma, but I wasn't here to argue vocabulary. The truth, he then told me, was that he was homosexual, gay, other words that are synonyms. Wow, I haven't had a gay friend who wasn't a known homosexual when I met them, this was new. I told him I wasn't going to judge him or "straighten" him out, but others won't be so graceful. We left that table both carrying a secret that ticked like a bomb. Funny thing is, he still comes to our ministry now and again to maintatain relationships (remember that word).

Yesterday, he posted to his wall he was in a relationship with a guy in Maine. This elicited comments of "hmmmmm...", and "interesting." Also, his religious views have changed to "would you be willing to risk a relationship for them." "Them" being the religious views of the reader. What does this mean? Am I willing to talk to you even though you may violate some of my beliefs? If I did that I would be a lonley man with no friends who couldn't keep himself company. Or will I compromise my beliefs in order to remain you friend.

There are very few hills I will stake a flag and die upon. I may stake a flag, bellow, and fire artillery from one hill, but I will not die on it. But, with my religious views (terrible phrase, I'll post on that later), I will never give, because a Man died on hill for me. So, Kyle S. if following Christ and living for the King mean we cannot be friends, I'm sorry. I did not draw that line. If I am wrong and you still want to be a friend with differences between us, I want to be your friend.

And to the church-haters. The church sucks, we screwed up, I'm sorry. We do have moments where we try to help and they are often forgotten.

Acknowledge those hidden
namaste
vaya con Dios

So tonight I tried reading some of the mountain biking blogs. I used to subscribe to Backpacker magazine for all the trail descriptions and musings that come with prolonged seclusion. I guess the slow repetitive walking where scenes gradually rise to meet you over the next hill allow you to take your mind off your environment and ponder why you have even come to this beautiful, desolate, but lonely spot. 

Mountain biking lacks this. Your environment changes so quickly you barely realize it except you know you're dodging pine trees instead of oaks. But, you don't the time to reflect on how the pine smells or how long those oaks with their gnarly roots have been around and what history they've seen. No, when you're on a bike and bombing down a hill, your only thought is keep the rubber on the trail and shiny parts carrying the soft fleshy thing upright. It's hard to make the thousands of automatic miniscule adjustments philosophical when you're in the moment. Of course, you can make this about life and how there are many reactions that we blah blah blah...

I'm just saying mountain biking is an constant adrenaline fueled endeavor that is hard to describe. When you do it doesn't sound fun. "Aw man it was great, we hurtled down the hill dodging tree branches with our skull. We went so fast I was afraid to let go of the handlebar long enough to grab the break. Then we climbed a hill and my thighs were screaming at me. And then I had this great crash where I flipped over the bars and rolled out where I was sitting on the trail and my bike crashed into a tree." See doesn't sound like that much fun right. But, that wind in your face and you manipulating a machine that you control every aspect of. Even that fear of injury at every bump will keep on edge for the next few hours after the ride. 

So here's to Mountain Biking

namaste

vaya con Dios

Keelboats and Gouda Burgers

Sorry guys,

Monday was a nice day. I kayaked down the Broad River with other such blogstars as TCH, lp, and the notorious milkshake drinker, "Jim." Anyway as often happens when I am outdoors around few people my mind began to wander. And thanks to my soggy butt, I decide to stand on top of the sit-on-top project and use my paddle as a pole. Initially, I saw myself as a gondolier in Vienna. But, I realized my surroundings. Majestic pine and old hardwood trees leaning to sip from the Broad River that is choked with rock outcrops and blanketed with coarse sand. I stood on my kayak wearing not a beret, but a cheap Wal-Mart lid and thought of the freedom the old keelboatmen must have felt before steam and locomotion moved our goods to market. Of course, this daydream had a soundtrack. It was beautiful in the waning summer to relax with friends and spend some time out of doors.

That night, Abbie and I threw a small grill-out. Growing up, any holiday meant a special meal, and summer holidays meant grilling out. Last year, I was kind of depressed on Labor Day because no one I knew wanted to eat together. This year, I was determined to not let that happen. Grilling smoked gouda cheese burgers and corn on the cob, with sweet potato fries, and fried honey buns a la mode filled my apartment with such a complex bouquet that can only be matched with the laughter of friends. The next day, when I came home for lunch, the smell of smoke lingered when I opened the door, and I strained my ears to hear if the laughter my still be caught in the carpet and walls. Needless to say, I enjoy getting together and eating with friends. Quick thanks to Fiyaman and Mojo for finishing the burgers.

So, thanks for reading my wax poetic. I will redouble my efforts to post frequently.

Coop, since you're probably the only one still reading... have a good weekend, and I hope to see you soon.

namaste vaya con Dios