The Heavenly Man

I just finished reading the book The Heavenly Man by Brother Yun. I have never read a book like this before... it has completely changed what I think about suffering and Christianity. Lately (as I read the Bible and books like The Heavenly Man) I have seen more and more clearly that love and pain are intermingled... in fact, they flow so closely together that they are inseparable. What American Christianity has done so thoroughly is separated love from pain. And the result is.... well... look at the modern church. It is filled with "rule-abiding" good people who are deathly fearful, driven by the opinions of the world, weak, often addicted, and silently full of rage at a God who is supposed to alleviate their pain, but won't.

Pain and Love. Perfect twins, gracefully extended to us as a way to find wholeness through Christ Jesus.

Since working in a ministry that reaches weak and broken men and women, I have come to realize that the majority of the church (me included!) is weak and broken, too. There are few differences that separate them. It doesn't matter if it is a former gay prostitute (who is a good friend of mine) or a youth pastor who is addicted to not only his youth ministry, but porn too. In fact, the church does little to help this youth pastor. It drives him further into isolation, into his lonely prayer closet, into another leadership and integrity class, down deeper into his pit of self until he feels so spiritually dark and insane that he goes off the deep end, dives head-first into sexual immorality and shocks the Christian world. Then the church shakes its head in sad disbelief wondering, “What went wrong with that guy!”

I was reading in Colossians 2:20-23 the other day and found my answer to the problem above. It is so clear and simple that it is practically baffling! Read it.

What the...

Tonight as I drove home from Mindy's new apartment (which is soooo nice, by the way) I was nearing home when I looked to the side of the road and saw.... OHMYGOSH!...

..AN ARMADILLO CHEWING ON A BRIGHT ORANGE STICK!!!!!..

Or wait... no. No, I was wrong. It was actually...

..A sand bag sitting on a knocked-down construction sign.

Hmm.

I didn't think we had many armadillo around here.

Final Conclusions...

As of this last Thursday (this was written a while ago just never finished!) I am no longer working for the YMCA... I am moving on to the next chapter of life, into a new position with a ministry in Robbinsdale. Anyway, I wanted to write about the things I have learned in the past year... working with 5 and 6-year-olds has sure been a fun and crazy ride! So, I have come to these 4 final conclusions:

1. Kids' imaginations come alive in the bathroom. As I sat outside the door for countless hours, I would see small hands tracing lines on the floor, little girls hair hanging down being swung around, and hear soft singing and storytelling. Always was I chuckling. My favorite memory about the bathroom comes from last summer, when as I walked by the bathroom I heard a small excited voice say, "It's as big as a candy bar!"

2. Kids love Crocs. Crocs are the new rage in footwear... molded from foamy-type material that are almost indestructable. And most kids aren't satisfied with black or blue Crocs... they perfer wild neon colors that you can see from 40 miles off. Anyway, Crocs disgust me, but kids love 'em.

3. Little girls have an inborn desire to do their nails, brush or comb hair, shop, and chase boys (quite literally at this age).

4. Little boys have an inborn desire to avoid little girls, shoot guns, and be dirty. My favorite example came from little Max - when I came across him pouring a large bucket of sand over his head just for fun.

I leave with great sadness - a job that I have truely loved has come to an end. To my fellow employess, I will miss you. To you little tykes, I will miss you too....... I won't miss being dirty or having your snot on my shirt or 16 kinds of germs on my hands or you sneezing in my eyes or peeing your pants but I will miss you!

the June bug.

I dislike June bugs... probably more than any other insect. They bat against the windows, buzz towards any light, and in my case, fly in open car windows to lounge on my dashboard.

I slammed on my breaks, put on my hazards and swiftly exited the car. There on my dashboard sat a fat, black, bumbling June bug with about as much intelligence as a grain of sand. My narrowed eyes watched it's every move as I reached into my back seat to grab a drum stick. Figuring I would smash it into oblivion so I could be on my way, I brought the stick down hard, but only succeeded in wounding it slightly... then, to make things worse, it stumbled down into my defrost vent were it remains to this day.

The next morning I found a black bird sitting on my winshield, pecking away as it had seen a tasty treat. Walking up to this bold, treat-seeking bird I was surprised that it didn't fly away. It looked at me, looked down, and continued it's hunt, jumping along the front of car as if in hot pursuit. I offered to open the door so he could go inside to get his lunch, but he turned me down and flew away. Darn.

I arrived back home a few hours later only to find the same bird waiting for me. He was a little confused, I must admit, as he was sitting on my sister's Saturn and not mine. I quickly motioned that he was looking in he wrong car, and he flew over to mine. I went inside to let him to his thing, and hoped that he would find that rouge June bug and leave me and my car in peace.

Well, I had assumed that the hunt had been succesful. But last night as I drove home, I heard a slight buzzing chirp coming from my defrost vent. Could it be that he had started a new life in my vent, and planned to raise a family there? I was hoping the air conditioning would drive him out, and perhaps it had only cooled, calmed, and invited him to stay.

Oh, what to do, what to do...

A Letter...From My Heart...

Dear Professor Ligocki,

Well, it has been an interesting semester, to say the least. I wanted to drop you this letter to express my deep thanks for the way you made Ancient Philosophy just BURST alive for me. The way you talked about Empedocles made me want to leap into the air, grasp my hands to my heart and fall romantically into a pile of soft pillows.

When I think back on the semester, I smile. I remember on the third day of class when I was seriously freaking out... and I came to you after class to get help. I remember our conversation went something like this:

"I am really worried about the tests in this class since I'm not really understanding the book.."

"Oh I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Umm... well, I'm not really understanding the readings... are the tests on the readings only?"

"....yes."

"......................"

".............................."

"..........I'm just still not understanding what's going on.."

"Make it a great day."

Yeah, that was SOOOOOO helpful when you said, "Make it a great day" and then left. After that my day was so incredibly GREAT! And my attitude toward your class was awesome... and after that my grades really soared.

So, in closing I'd like to thank you for a great semester. I look forward to NEVER EVER taking another class with you for the rest of my life.

Oh, and make it a great day.

Jeremy S Dahlen

That Kid: Part III Addendum

Instead of writing another paper like I should be doing, I decided to put an addendum onto my last That Kid posting.

That Kid Part III: "End of the Semester Kid"

End of the Semester Kid only comes out the last few weeks of the semester. It is the kid who has been in your class for the whole semester and you had no idea. Suddenly you see EOTSK leaving class a little early or coming in a little late you say to yourself, "Who the heck is that?" The reason you act so surprised is because you have never EVER seen that kid in your life, and yet he or she has been in the class with you for the entire semester. It's even extra surprising when that kid takes his seat - only three seats over from yours. How could you have missed them??

Sometimes End of the Semester Kid is in more than one of your classes. In one class you talk quite a bit with them, and yet in the other class you don't know they exist. Hopefully they don't think you are shafting them on purpose, because you aren't... you simply haven't noticed that they sit right next to you... shoot.

As I near the end of this semester, I'm noticing quite a few EOTSKs walking around. In fact, it's a little aggravating because it reminds me of high school. On the day of graduation I walked up to several people whom I had never seen before. We looked at each other, pointed, and said in unison, "You go here??" Then we stared at each other, not knowing what to say... so we just congratulated each other, tossed our tassels to the side, and walked away.

Grumble Grumble

I just got home (midnight) and since I was totally famished, I did something barbaric. I fried myself a huge panfull of bacon, then cooked a giant batch of pancakes in that same bacon grease. It was AMAZING but I kind of feel a heart attack coming on

I love my job!

I love getting paid to have fun... It's fun!

death.

I am haunted by my past, and inspired by my future.  

I am traumatized by what has been, and full of hope for the things to come.  

I have tasted death, cloaked in darkness.  And I have tasted life, wrapped in light.  

I have done things that have crucified my God, and yet have been redeemed by that very death.  

I have been given more than I could ever think to ask for, and have been seen as a son.

I have been plagued by black dreams, then thrown aside in shame.

And I have a song sung over me as I sleep, a river of love pouring out and surrounding me.  

I have known such hopelessness, and have found such hope.

I have crossed the line so many times, condemning myself for not hitting the mark.

I have done to myself what I have hated others for, pointed my own malicious finger in my own face.  

I would easily count myself out of any reward, gift, or even smile.  


I have left friends for dead, and laughed at their misery.  

I have assumed that I know best, everyone else is behind the times, and God is old-fashioned.  

I look at myself and think, "Wow!" and look at others and think, "Sad!"  

I think of myself as the most clean, even though I find myself staring up from the sewer.  


I float over the heads of my fellow believers, wondering why they refuse to fly.  

...And then I look up from the floor wondering why everyone is walking on me.  

I kneel at the church alter, basking in my own humility, and consider how few follow and act as humble as I.


I like to think of God in a glass box, and when I feel unhappy I can let a little of him out.  I like to think that the box is small, non-threatening, and in my control.  

I also like to think that even though I keep the box, I don't really need it.  In fact, it needs me.


Sometimes when I'm depressed or angry, I run to Him for help.

Then, when help comes running, I pat myself on the back, thoroughly impressed at my own faith and ability to seek and find.  

I wonder why others have so many problems.


I like to break the rules sometimes.  But it's not that bad when I do it.  

That's just the way it is.  

Besides, God knows me too well to think too long and hard about my sin.

I find myself getting bored with others - especially when they drone on about themselves.  I can't wait for them to stop so I can finally say something interesting.


I read the Bible and think of it as mostly an analogy.  Then I wonder why I'm experiencing the very things I've prayed for.

I once prayed to die.  And I did... I found myself crushed to the floor.
I once prayed to mourn.  And the sorrow was too deep for tears.
I once prayed for joy.  And I received joy, not happiness.


God, you don't get it!  What I meant was this:

I pray for death:  You show me a scripture about YOU dying.
I pray to mourn:  I consider how painful life could be, and receive your comfort.
I pray for joy:  You give me what I want.


God, why aren't you concerned with what I want?  Isn't that the purpose of knowing you?  So that you can give me the desires of my heart?  And make my cup overflow?  And give me an abundance that no storehouse could hold?  


But You are not an analogy - no!


Forgive me for praying to the idea of you.
Forgive me for thinking that I can keep you under my thumb.
Forgive me for placing my plan of how you will work, over your plan of how you will work.

Crucify me, Lord! I ask for death... for only death can bring life.