Easter Monday

I slept too late. I didn’t get done what I wanted to get done by this time. I tend to have all these grand plans of what I would like to accomplish that are usually beyond the capacity of any human being. But I still have them for me.

This morning I just sat and thought. For about an hour. It was one of those lawn mower moments. I used to mow the field of my grandpa’s old cottages out at the lake - it was a good-sized field - and I would think. I think it was one of the first times in my life that I had an extended period of time to just think about life and took advantage of it.

You can get the same feeling when driving for long stretches through sparsely populated sections of our U S A. Driving in urban environments will of course induce the opposite sensation, but those long thinking times are usually associated with movement for me, trains, cars, planes, lawnmowers, whatnot.

I didn’t really do much moving this morning. Well, actually, I guess I kept getting up out of my chair and looking out the window for no particular reason. Like I was waiting for the mailwoman to arrive with a package that contained a really great thought. Or an advertisement for the new Chinese place down the street that provided a particularly striking insight. Maybe a coupon for 2 dollars of my next carwash will really clear up things for me.

Some days it’s easy to get up and go out and do things. Other times, its nice just to sit. No one ever really has that luxury though. Except that I’m on vacation today. I’m on a vacation from my worries like in “What About Bob?” Actually today is the last day of my Easter break. ]

Easter. And who really cares? If any day should be “different” I suppose Easter would be it. Now today is Easter Monday, but still, It’s Easter and who cares. Every year another Easter passes and I‘m still the same human with the same flaws, which seem to be growing more apparent rather than slowly ebbing into the night.
Hate, bitterness, despair, envy, jealousy, desire, and rage are all still here. Are people still the same? Is the world still the same? It’s not getting better? The same? Worse?

I guess I’m not supposed to live as one without hope.

Some hope in the world. I hate, loathe and despise these people at best.

Some hope in the rapture. I lampoon, mock, ridicule these people even though I am of the same family.

I do have a promise of new life. I have a promise of a restored body. And of a life that will not end. I have a promise that I will be with God in an amazing and indescribable place.

But some days the hope is hard to find, to grasp, to believe, to take a hold of. The Scriptures appear to be a jumble of words. Prayer feels like I am talking to my ceiling rather than to the maker of heaven and earth. That’s how I feel. Like God is ignoring me. Life is a grind. Why continue to grind through life day after day when you will be laughed at for believing the unbelievable and dedicating yourself to apparent fiction. Why slog though the muck of everydayness when you are lumped with ignorant and simpleminded fools who disgrace God, scripture, America, themselves and me with their legalistic, uneducated, emotive, lunatic ravings about their truth?
You can give in to the world. Chuck truth and refuse to ruffle feathers.
Then Christ is optional.

There is truth. And my ranting about it will probably come off as equally legalistic, uneducated, emotive and insane as those brothers and sisters of mine that I despise, but that’s all I’ve got. I don’t have anything to add to the world that hasn’t already been said. I am not going to invent, uncover, unearth or reveal anything has hasn’t already been here for ages. I do have a loud voice though. I can make it heard. I used to sell peanuts and Angel games and half the stadium could here when I called. Some would clutch their ears and writhe in pain.

That’s one thing. But really, the volume of our voice doesn’t matter. You don’t want that to be the thing that is offensive. By no means. The truth is offensive enough. People don’t always need a harsh word; the crushed need comfort. But the comforted need to be crushed. Boy, are we a comforted people. Whether we are in reality remains to be seen. But we love being comforted, or at least the search for it, which usually ends in us being crushed. Straight up truth will do that do a person. We try to ignore the truth, but then it peaks out. When reality is allowed to shine, it’s a jab to the jaw. Keep everything behind the curtain, sooth, medicate, ignore pain, sin, dirt, grime, dark thoughts and feelings, guilt, remorse, resentment, anger.
We never fully get crushed. Maybe a pinky or toenail here or there, but we escape.

Truth and reality and consequences are not fun to dwell on, not happy times, so comfort never comes, just more patchwork medicating. The truth crushes. The damning truth of our inadequacy, but The Truth comforts. We are inadequate, but there in One who is Adequate. One who Is. One who is Comfort, who is the Beginning and End. He became pain for us. This One lifted all our trash, our garbage, all about us that we loathe, that we ignore, that we hide, that we despise, that we try to forget — took that and applied it to himself. The Pure became the Impure. Think of the worst thing that you ever did. That’s what Jesus became. He became our sin.

The thing is though that Jesus was not just man, but God. and God is not sin.
He’s not dead or condemned. He is alive right now.
That’s Easter.

It matters even we when we think it doesn’t. When we think the things of God are of no effect, well, it doesn’t matter because they are anyway in spite of what we think, or how we feel.

That is where quite a bit of comfort comes in. God is unchanging. Truth is not captive to me, my, life, my circumstances, or my emotions. It just is. God just is. He is God and I am not. When you feel small and insignificant, good. Because you are. You are special only because God said you are. That is better than your mommy or your daddy, or your spouse or yourself telling you that. Because He is God.
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline.

There are two kinds of fear in relation to God.
There is the fear that God is coming to get you.
And there is the fear that God is going to leave.
One causes you to run away and one causes you to run toward Him.
At the resurrection we can rest, but in this life we’re never going to stop running. The question simply is, “In what direction are you running?”

Colombia Monserrate Competion Lot #5

Monserrate is a community of 28 families some two hours down a bumpy dirt road from La Plata. The town itself consists of a single street draped along the top of a gorgeous ridge with a commanding view of the lush green valleys on either side. At the highest point in town sits a brick-clad church and bell tower.
The coffee grown here is Caturra and Typica varietal. Each family has its own de-pulping and fermentation set up, along with raised drying screens protected from the rain by parabolic roofs of transparent plastic. The drying areas are set up on a slight incline, so that both ends of the tunnel can be opened to allow airflow across the coffee.
Since every family contributes coffee for export, each fermentation and drying process has to be done perfectly, or it could compromise the entire shipment. Happily, the whole community takes great pride in their work, and the results show very nicely in the cup.

This sucks. This is the type of marketing that works on me. I like stories. Tell me a story about the coffee and I will want to buy it. A church? There is a brick-clad church near the coffee? And a gorgeous ridge? lush green valleys? I want to be there. I want to travel to Columbia just for one slip of this coffee. I want to spend time with those families. I will even graciously volunteer my time to help them de-pulp their Caturra varietal.

No one knows what any of this means. Just use technical or foreign words and people will take it as the gospel. It works in church. That's all this is. The orthodox church of white, college-educated, urban consumerism.
More, more. give me more. Make me feel good about myself because I work too much and all I want to to is travel and escape monotony and discover a cause that is true to the real me, the inside me me me, I'm discovering who I am, I'm I'm me me me figuring stuff out with my my my life.

Just give me a cup of coffee and call it a day. I'll make up my own story about it.

Who needs unbridled enthusiasm?!

it wont be long until we are in wee Britain and though it shares a similar fickle temperament as that of the plain and flat Midwest, I believe that that are a few other enchantments that may make our stay there bearable.

Rick Steves and I have an understanding. I suppose it is a general understanding that exists between me and the elderly (or close to it). I have similar interests to these folk and Mr Steves writes guidebooks that refreshes my soul, a soul that yearns to be elderly yet is trapped in this prison of youth and vigor.

For instance. Other guidebooks tell of places to go clubbing, party all night, meet young single travelers. That may be some other deviants' idea of fun, but I prefer the places such as King Arthur themed dinners, the Ewe-phoiria Sheep Dog farm, and bed and breakfasts. For those of us that are 28, approaching 79, these are the highlights of the twilight of our youth.

I do not wish to meet twenty-somethings. I wish to avoid them. They with their loud music and colorful mixed drinks. They with their unbridled enthusiasm and ultra light cigarettes.

I am the "I reluctantly shop at Trader Joe's, because of the scarcity of family-owned grocery stores" generation. I am well aware that I am what I consume, and if that happens to be the same as that of a Korean war vet, then so be it.

The fact that I am producing letters and words on a computer rather than a typewriter is a source of guilt and frustration for me.

I would be fine without an automobile and even better without electricity, as long as I can use a transistor radio to pick up the ball game.

But really, that's a bunch of schlock. I like "technology" as much as the next guy. I listened or watched 9 different baseball games the other day. That of course is of utmost importance, but in other ways we have many more things today make us stupid and divert our attention from any matter of lasting importance than ever before.

You can talk to co-workers about American Idol but fair trade and labor laws?

There needs to be more fair trade. It's really been bugging me.

I think I will dedicate my life to that issue.

Before, my cause was climate control, but, I don't know, I'm really thinking I need a different cause to make my voice heard.

I'm really into peace and stuff and causes and being active and social and things.

Ok.

Maybe I don't want to talk of things of "lasting importance" unless I can define the terms.
Defining terms is critical I have found. In pretty much any kind of conversation. Talk about "life," "love," "faith," "god," you're sure to get 250 million different definitions.
It can get confusing.
You talk to someone for a half an hour and you realize, "Oh, we're not talking about the same thing." Even though you are using the same words.

--

In England they have all kinds of different words than we do. I suppose it will take me a while to get used to that. I don't know if you ever get used to something that is different though. That's why Rick Steves is around. He tells me everything I need to know about what I don't know.

They are chopping down trees in my back yard.
Grind. Grind.
There is a big wood chipper that they are throwing branches in.
There is no William H Macy or Steve Buchemi in my back yard though.

I drink coffee. I like the organic, fair-trade, shade-grown Ethiopian blend the best, not only because it is from the birthplace of coffee, but because I can do so so much for the world by sitting at home and drinking a cup of joe. it really makes me feel good about myself.

Today is the mandate day. 4 big things: footwashing, institution of the supper, gethsemene and Judas' betrayal. Tonight i will strip the altar and chancel of all paraments (liturgical cloths) and other liturgical items (candles, etc) in preparation for Good Friday.

It is kind of incredible how Jesus set himself so resolutely toward Jerusalem and toward the certain death on the cross. What was he thinking as he rode the donkey into town as people sang praises? What was he thinking as he served his friends who would soon scatter? What was he thinking as they fell asleep again and again? What was he thinking when one of his inter circle handed him over to death?

baseball

on tv: i am flipping between the red sox/tb, chi ws/kc and stl/pit games.
i finished listening to the det/tor game radio broadcast and now i am switching between cubs/hou and nyy/bal games
nym/cin on game day
sea/min on gameday mini

Opening day in st louis

and it is snowing.
so i will listen to radiohead and drink coffee and read about how apparently the "Spirit does not need a vehicle" according to that foo zwingli. What up, Zwingli? The Spirit can have a vehicle if he wants to. What's your problem with vehicles? He could have a 82 ford mustang or a bike or a rickshaw, but he prefers water and bread and wine. Hey, would not be my first choice either but I'm sure God can get around how ever he wants to wheels or not.

I'm listening to The Band.
Prof n Stein is about to start.
Prof Lewis is on the soap box this afternoon.
Every week we get together and drink a keg and a different professer gets on our soap box and rants about something.
I help out and set things up. That also means that I get more beer time.

Becca is out of town this weekend.
I will be working on:
a paper on the "New perspective on Paul." A bunch of scholars say that Paul wasn't really all about justification by faith. They say that Luther misread Paul.
we'll see.