Let It Speak: Writing Songs with Gordon Ramsay

Some friends and I have been hooked on Gordon Ramsay’s show Kitchen Nightmares. It’s seriously addicting. If you don’t know, Gordon Ramsay is a world-renown chef and a professionally cussing Brit too who, on this show, travels around Europe to distressed restaurants, pointing out, to the usually delusional staff, weaknesses and implementing much-needed leadership and simple business strategies. I admire him in a lot of ways.

In one episode, while rattling off an award-winning slew of cuss-words, he tried to get the head chef, an experienced and accomplished man, off his high horse to realize he was over complicating his food. As the plate was sent down the line every other kitchen staff added his own flourish, seasoning or ingredient. By the end, the food on the plate had been covered with unnecessary additions. According to Ramsay, its simplicity was compromised.

Commenting on this, Ramsay told the head chef: “let the ingredients speak.” The unnecessary additions, like siren calls, crowded out the main voice, the main ingredients. When there is too much going on, in food, the mind is overwhelmed and can't "land down" on the richness of taste and thus is drown out. Tragic. Gordon suggests 4-6 ingredients--tops--for any superb plate. That's it.

Now, on to what I’m getting at--no, this post isn’t actually about cooking. Sorry.

My friend Bijou and I have been writing music. If there was a musical one--like musical musical--it’d be Bijou. He livens up my boring chord progressions. I often scratch my head at his idiosyncrasies. Both of us wanted to, specifically, write songs to be used during the musical worship sets at the local youth group we’ve been getting involved at. So far we have one full song, which we’ve sung twice now, with a collection of unfinished tags, choruses and lyrics.

On a number of occasions though, as we sat, leaning over our guitars, we made songs that were overly complicated, bombarding ears with busy bass lines and frivolous instrumentation, earnestly filling every nook and cranny with "just the right part".

We had given into that callow songwriting trap: we thought more was more.

Nope. It’s not.

It’s striking how Ramsey’s advice carries over perfectly to the art of songwriting. What sets really talented bands apart--besides tremendous skill, etc.--is the maturity to restrain, the wisdom to remove. Sometimes songs sound best stripped bare. And often true moments of inspiration come back at square one, back for simplicity’s sake.

Just one instrument can be super powerful when used right. This is just one example of a band that lets their instruments speak:

Gentiles and Stepfamily as Intruders: Reflections on a Sermon

Last Wednesday ended a lapse from preaching for me. Honestly, I can’t recall, for sure, the last time I preached. A year ago, possibly two.

Our youth pastor has been in a series entitled “Repossess.” There have been three segments: identity, generation and family and Wednesday kicked off the segment on family. Obviously then, mine was the privilege of sharing a bit of my story and some reflections on family. Specifically, and this was the main reason our youth pastor had me preach, I shared about my experience--both good and bad--with stepfamily. Since divorce and mixed families are as common as anything else, I thought this was an important and necessary item to talk about.

The question I wanted to answer was simply, “How do I treat my stepfamily when I see them as intruders?” I think this is a valid question, not just for teenagers, but for anyone who has felt the relational tension between, now, members of the same family. Nowadays, it takes zero stretch of the imagination to think of a woman marrying a man with two kids of his own or vise versa. Stories like this happen all the time, every day. But their normalcy doesn’t dissolve the deep feelings of being intruded upon, as if it’s totally fine that this stranger is now living with me and assuming a role they haven’t earned (i.e. mother, father, etc.).

Early on, I had this thought of how to capture this issue within the biblical narrative (albeit, now, I would have done it slightly different since my storytelling skills aren’t what they used to be, causing some kid’s faces to looked annoyingly bored--preacher's worst nightmare). I thought about Ephesians 2:11-22: in Christ, two people groups, the Jews and Gentiles, God’s people and the others, had, expressed at Pentecost and beyond, become one, united as God’s single dwelling, as one people, as one family.

And for some reason, I thought it would be brilliant to attempt to explain the whole story from its proper origins in Abram. This is where some kids got bored, at least this is what their faces were telling me. Sometimes you have to adapt, change it up, screw the itinerary.

At the end, what I wanted them to see was that they, being Gentiles, since none are full-blooded Jewish, were separated from God, not apart of Jesus’ family, like Paul wrote in that passage. I wanted them to take that in! Because, if they did they would realize they have an insider’s perspective on what it’s like to be stepfamily.

The way that many kids today view their stepparents and stepsiblings is probably similar to how the early Jews saw the Gentiles: intruders. Can’t you hear them say? “This is our covenant, our family, our God! They have no business here!” And as we know, both peoples had a difficult time understanding the radical reconstruction of the former way, the original rules.

My advice at the end was so basic: love Jesus by loving your stepfamily, pray for your stepfamily often, get to know your stepfamily and, in some instances, forgive your stepfamily. It seems almost like I threw together this application section. To the contrary, I sat for a long time, laptop open, cursor blinking, thinking about how the kids could apply this. At the end of the day, I guess it comes back to what we all know, the Christian fundamentals: love, care, prayer, forgiveness. Oh, the simple, difficult Christian way. How beautiful it is.

I told the kids I wanted them to make eye contact with me if they wanted to become apart of God’s family for the first time and/or they were going to try to live as a Christian among their complicated, messy family situations, as their heads hung downward during those last moments when slouched bodies perk up and bored faces become calm. I was shocked by the many eyes that looked into mine. I gave back a look like, “Are you sure?/Do you know why you are looking at me?” to some of them. It seemed it wasn’t accidental.

All the struggle through that sermon seemed like nothing in the lightness and calm of those few seconds of catching the eyes of teenagers who, in sincerity and freedom, decided that in the difficult and beautiful way of Christianity, as led by Christ, is where they plan to place their feet. Ah, yes. And just how exactly did I manage to be away for so long?

The Rolling Jubilee

"There’s something very good about forgiveness," writes Felix Salmon, concluding his post on Occupy's latest bright idea, Rolling Jubilee. Indeed!

I heard about Rolling Jubilee a couple days ago while reading Richard Beck's blog. And since then I've read several articles from writers across the political spectrum. So far, everything I've read salutes the idea and its biblical roots and ancient genius.

Among the articles I read was one written by Charles Eisenstein, author of Sacred Economics, which I'm currently working through. It's quite good.

Some others engaging the idea are Anya Kamenetz, senior writer at Fast Company, author Matthew Yglesias and Tim Worstall at Forbes.

Rolling Jubilee is kicking things off officially tonight! You can stream it live. The ole biblical witness, with its outdated ideas, is applicable today. Who'd a thought?

The Good in Defeat (or what feels like it)

She didn’t bother to say, “Hey, call me back when you get this,” which, now, in retrospect I kinda understand. Hearing this would have perked my ears and imagination to think I got the job. Alas, it was all there, everything I needed to hear in that simple voice message.

Honestly, I was a little surprised I didn’t get the job. Maybe I was too positive about it. I went in for an interview last week for a youth pastor position at a church in Bellevue, Wa. Overall, the interview was good. I was told that I was the only person called in for an interview. Shocked, I excitedly figured I had a good chance, no? The pay was good, which I wish wasn’t a deciding factor (but anyone who has shaken hands with the devil and successfully found themselves floundering in student loans will readily attest to the necessity of a decent salary). And it was a job I wanted: youth pastor. Hello! Just the thought of seriously engaging students--junior to senior high to college--in matters of Christian faith and spirituality can spark an all-too-easily-lit fire I usually keep contained in the bottom of my heart.

This is all I want to do: saturate young imaginations in God’s narrative, the story he’s writing, ya know, the one from the dawn of time and give them an example, a life of a struggling, attempting-yet-failing, loving, thinking, experimenting, life-taking-serious Christian and preach the best sermons I got and teach them about faith in a way that’s creative, embodied and wise. Ok, there’s more, but this sums up a major chunk.

And some may find this fascinating or stupid or both, but I spent a good amount of time this night talking to myself--by social standards that is. But I wasn’t, technically. I was preaching and instructing teenagers--in my imagination! Although, youth workers got some attention as well. A little weird I know.

Today though, honestly, felt like a defeat. It wasn’t just about being rejected as youth pastor from the Bellevue church. That was the culmination of a number of setbacks. Amongst other things, there are emails I set to churches and pastors that were inquiring or needing a youth pastor that have yet to be responded to. Emails are pretty impersonal, sure. And I know pastors get a ton. But if some guy takes the time to send an email, cover letter and resume seeking about an opportunity at your church send something back. Right? In the face of the neglect I would have seen even one simple “thank you” as super pleasant.

You can ask a bunch of my friends: I was perfectly torn, and for a long time, upon graduation, between youth pastoring or teaching english abroad. Constantly, like a pendulum, my mind alternated between these two options. I had legit reasons for both. Doing the latter is still something I would love to do somehow, sometime, somewhere. But I want to youth pastor. Hands down. I minored in it for a reason.

Amidst feelings of frustration and disappointment, and in true Davidic style, tonight, I encourage myself: Son, what great warrior, athlete or CEO has never been shackled to defeat? What hero has achieved their status flawlessly, with no cuts or bruises, embarrassment or shellacking? Could such a scoundrel be remembered as great? I know it’s not about fame or glory, but you must see properly the nature of defeat. Do you see only failure, only a sight to be mocked? Wrong! Of course there is more to it than that! God sees you son. And where he sees you he will lead you. So rejoice that he would bless you with such a gift, with such a great teacher. Everything that happens, remember, passes through God’s purifying flame of love, his ever burning agape. In such divine love, even the most unpleasant thing is consumed in order to bring about what's authentically good. Carry on!

My Beef with Identity: Abstract Language and Youth Ministry

"Hey, that's my identity!," I hear myself say, playing around with the thoughts, swirling about my head, the youth pastor's sermon provoke. "You took it. Now give it back!"

I slump in my seat. This is a sermon that I'm sure has been recycled (for better or worse) hundreds of times. Hearing it is as normal as skipping breakfast; it's nearly part of my routine. Christian speech about "identity" is typically overbearingly simplistic and cliche. Why would youth pastors subject themselves--and their listeners, teenagers!--to such vague, abstract language concerning a complicated psychological and sociological phenomena: identity. What's more alarming is such teaching without any supplementary pedagogical methods to help clear the waters.

"Find and discover your identity in Christ," and "your identity has been mucked up by the passions of this world" and "we must repossess our identity from the enemy" are all phrases I easily imagine a youth pastor spouting off to his group. But, what becomes plain to see, after a little study and thought, is the difficulty in pinning down an adequate definition of this term, thrown around so vehemently.

I have a feeling our metaphorical understanding of identity as something--an object to seek and search out, or perhaps something lost and hidden deep down in the soils under uncharted terrain--contributes to our (more or less) careless and nonchalant handling of it. Think about it. Metaphors are employed to aid us in understanding some abstract idea. Perhaps our routine use of identity in everyday talk and negligence to reflect on its meaning have given us confidence that we've mastered its mystery. But think with me all the ways identity is used in popular discourse and then try to define that sucker, neatly. Not going to be easy.

While researching popular uses of identity, I stumbled upon a draft of James Fearon's What is Identity? for a political science class at Stanford. He wrote:

The meaning of “identity” as we currently use it is not well captured by dictionary definitions, which reflect older senses of the word. Our present idea of “identity” is a fairly recent social construct, and a rather complicated one at that. Even though everyone knows how to use the word properly in everyday discourse, it proves quite difficult to give a short and adequate summary statement that captures the range of its present meanings.[1]

Essentially, according to Fearon, there are two "linked" senses of identity in popular discourse: social and personal.

In the former sense, an “identity” refers simply to a social category, a set of persons marked by a label and distinguished by rules deciding membership and (alleged) characteristic features or attributes.[2]

Here identity is used, in society, to understand "proper" interaction with members outside one's social groups, for instance a mentally-handicapped person, gypsy, or monk. In sociology, status and role have parts to play here. Though this aspect is seriously intriguing, I want to focus on the personal aspect--though eventually moving pass Fearon--because of its pervasiveness in Evangelical churches and youth groups.

In the second sense of personal identity, an identity is some distinguishing characteristic (or characteris- tics) that a person takes a special pride in or views as socially consequential but more-or-less unchangeable.[3]

The latter is more about a person's self-understanding, the story one tells him/herself, but usually that which is a source of pride and esteem: Japanese, Christian, introvert (personal examples). In some instances though, a person will identify themselves as/with something they don't esteem: shy, overweight, homosexual could be possible examples. We could call this latter instance negative personal identity (npi).

Here's an interesting example of npi from the movie The Sandlot: Scotty Smalls, the main character, in a scene where he's conversing with his mother about the hiccups in his friend-making endeavors (since they are new to the neighborhood), openly laments--and not so subtly reveals how he sees himself--"Face it, I'm just an egghead," to which his mother simply counters, "You'll always be an egghead with an attitude like that." "Oh mother, if it were only that easy," I think for him.

Scotty obviously views his eggheadedness as "socially consequential," in that he's no good at making friends. He's better nerding out in his room with his erector set.

Ultimately though, Fearon's definition, while perfectly adequate for his discussion, falls short for us doesn't it? When Christian youth workers speak about identity, they aren't calling for "some distinguishing characteristic that a person [a youth] takes a special pride in." Sure, ya, they want that, but they want more than that. What youth pastors (and don't forget parents!) beckon their youth toward is something of an objective identity (if there was such a thing), seeing oneself as a part of the people of God, as taught in Scripture. Read in your cheesy youth pastor voice: "I want you to know who you really are!"

We want our children to see themselves properly, do we not? Not as consumers of markets, adults in shrunken bodies, stupid nor mistakes, unnoticed nor overlooked, unwanted nor unloved. According to Scripture, adolescents, if they've been baptized into Christ, are something. They are much more, in fact. They are his body in/to the world. I get that--I know that. And I know this is important for youth to understand. This is why I sympathize with pastors and their efforts to rid their youth groups of false identities, to march against mendacious marketers and manufacturers. Youth pastors want their youth groups to understand how God sees them. No doubt!

But this is my beef: many teach and preach identity as something youth need to understand, but utterly fail when it comes to helping actually form it. That's right, form. Not without the help of James K. A. Smith, I'm employing a different metaphor from the ones above. Preachers can stand in front, hands pointed and voices elevated all they want, but unless they bring their sermon and its application to the ground, that is back from lofty abstract language to substantial engagement with the teenagers, little to nothing will change.

Why? Because youth workers are not the only ones in the business of forming identities. This is not eye-opening. Why else would we have to talk about identity so damn much?

In our gone-mad, capitalist America, youth are wanted for identity formation. If Nike can form the identity of a thirteen year old kid, to see Air Jordans as more than shoes, as a part of the good life, then guess what will follow? Yep, money. And to make matters worse, there are thousands of companies which understand identity formation better than, maybe, anyone. Professionals are paid a grip of money to ensure the identities of their customers remain perpetually infatuated and caught-up in their brand, logo and product.

Now it is here that I believe James K. A. Smith's book Desiring the Kingdom helps a ton. Published in 2009, as the first volume to a three-part series on a theology of culture, this book should be required reading for professors, pastors and youth workers alike (after reading it, I seriously contemplated buying this for every professor at my previous school). In it--and I'm wrapping up now--Smith, a Christian philosopher and professor, relocates desire to the center of the discussion on philosophical anthropology, the study of what it is to be human. He argues, quite masterfully, to be human is deeper than thinking and believing, projects of modernity. Fundamentally, to be human is to desire, it is to be a lover. And this is important to our discussion on identity? I think so.

What if identity--the story we tell ourselves--is intrinsically linked to desire? What if identity formation--the shaping of who we are--takes place "within" our primary loves? And what would this mean for adolescents and their youth pastors?

First off, it would mean overly-simple, proposition-saturated and word-heavy sermons on complex psychological and sociological phenomena will not cut it. Secondly, it would mean we are in need of a complete reconfiguration of how we handle identity at youth group. Anyone up for it?

Notes

[1] Fearon, James D. "What Is Identity (as we now use the word)?" Thesis. Stanford University, 1999. Print, 1-2.

[2] Ibid., 2.

[3] Ibid., 2.

Thinking on Christopher Rollston

Some loosely tethered thoughts...

My friend Ben received a text message from me two days ago. I had just previously been (unintentionally) engulfed in the mighty whirlwinds of an intriguing controversy I was reading about online via personal blogs, mainly Religion at the Margins, where I read the heartfelt words of Thom Stark and current students at Emmanuel Christian Seminary (previously Emmanuel School of Religion) regarding a troubling mess involving Christopher Rollston, beloved professor of Old Testament and Semitic Studies at ECS.

Still spinning is my head after working to wrap my brain around the whole story. Others who were close to the action--or better, turmoil--have spilled much ink explaining, clarifying and unfortunately righting the wrongs that have gone out like grenades from this issue.

If you want to read about it, which could potentially keep you busy for a good while, there is plenty of very interesting material. To start you off--and after clicking you will soon realize why I say "plenty"--read (or skim) this. Inevitably this post is too huge, so peruse this instead. Or, try some of these related links. Whatever you read, whether all, some or nothing, it seems a grave injustice is taking place with the (probable) termination of a fabulous scholar, teacher, friend and Christian over disheartening circumstances.

The facts get muddied, especially when so much already has gone public. And it doesn't help when apparently administration from ECS paints an unclear picture of what is really going on.

Rollston wrote an opinion article for Huffington Post regarding the Bible's marginalization of women. As Stark has already thoroughly commented, from a biblical scholar's perspective, nothing about Rollston's article was controversial, at all. I read it, and (for what it's worth) agree. But a colleague of Rollston's, Paul Blowers, didn't. And he made himself known on Facebook. The ensuing controversy would soon flood over.

Altercations like this one capture my attention. The politics in Christian universities and seminaries, particularly confessional institutions, with professors and their scholarly freedom (or lack thereof) and others who have a stake in them, whether that be the administration, alumni, prospective students, or donors, fascinate me, especially when priorities are exposed. My stake in Professor Rollston's issue is minimal to nothing, but it has got me thinking about a professor I had the privilege to sit under, a man I respect to no end.

After reading a few open letters from students showing support for their professor, I started to tear up. Their words reminded me of my own thoughts for a professor of mine at Life Pacific College, where I just graduated in May.

You have to understand a few things. I see similarities between these professors, Christopher Rollston and mine, who I will name Dr. Smith. The characteristics that students described Dr. Rollston with could be perfectly transferred over to describe Dr. Smith. Additionally, both ECS and LPC are very small confessional schools with amazing faculty for their size. Wondering, I ask myself what would happen to LPC if such a controversy went down. It'd be ugly.

At LPC a few years back, a friend I won't name (for those who might know this story, it will surely bring a smile) rocked the boat a bit during his polity interview, which is where graduating seniors stand before a board of professors to be tested, essentially, on doctrine, ministerial practice and Foursquare polity to become liscenced Foursquare ministers (most pass through the fires and walk out purified and a little taller with Foursquare pride boosting their step. Others, unfortunately, realize they had more straw than substance and must try again). In retrospect, and I suspect then, during the heat of it as well, it's a little humorous. This friend said some things, in his interview, that didn't sit well with his panel regarding Scripture. Pinning the origins of his conclusions to the teacher he had learned them (Dr. Smith) seemed plausible. So he did. But it caused a ruckus through our very little campus among students and professors.

Dr. Smith, letting us in on what happened, shared with our class last year about how he wrote endless emails and papers to several individuals and the administration concerning his actual view, articulated much better by him than a student. The boil eventually died down to a brew then went away for good. Thank God.

I have a special place in my heart for those who have shaken me up in my constellations of belief. I learned what they learned and thus realized my worldview was impoverished at best, and uttering failing at worst. Dr. Smith was one of these people for me, and I'm positive for most who take him have found him humble, passionate, brilliant, biblically-honest and thoroughly Christian. By my standards, he's the best of the best. I was blessed to have him. And I couldn't imagine future students not having him!

The unraveling Rollston mayhem has sparked some questions in me. What happens, at a confessional institution, where faculty must align themselves with certain positions doctrinally, when an honest professor/scholar confronts a position and genuinely concludes, through rigorous study, something different or contrary? How should s/he handle this? These questions remind me of Peter Enns awhile back, when he was asked to leave Westminster Theological Seminary for writing Inspiration and Incarnation, a great book. What role do big giving donors have with the degree of academic freedom Christian institutions have/allow, apart from what is said? What does it mean to be a "Christian" university, seminary or institute of another kind? How is such a thing--a system?--Christian anyway? How does a faithful institute operate, live out its mission and values? Is there such a thing as institutional obedience?

A prayer:

Father, only you could bring good out of the muck we make. I ask for your hand in Christopher Rollston's affair. Bring about good, justice, truth and even joy. Only you could do a thing like that. Give us all courage to be thoroughly Christian in our everyday. To you be the glory, Amen.

The Future of Books?

The author of Not Only a Father, Tim Bulkeley, has done something unique with his new book (link at bottom). He has made it available online, the whole thing, start to finish, and even made it possible to converse with readers through commenting on each section of the book, to give him (and other readers/commenters) more of an understanding of the thoughts of his readers. I think this is a great idea. I'm interested in seeing how it goes.

You can make your own notes, like the ones you scribble in the narrow margins of your own books at home, but for all to see. It's like a bunch of people all reading the same book, at the same time.

It seems this would give authors broad access to thoughts, ideas and feedback of readers, academic and lay, quickly and on a grander scale, something (most) authors, I'm assuming, would want and learn from. Hopefully I'll be able to join in the "pages" and unfolding discussion.

And I admit I stole the "future of books" bit from a smart man/teacher/blogger I like named James McGrath.

Click here to see!

The Young Days: Why Faith That Grows Up is Good

I spoke with a good friend. Talking on the phone can often be a labor-some endeavor for me, but this call was good, a much-needed catch-up with someone I admire and respect.

We talked about many things; finding jobs, transitions, ministry and getting in it again. One of the things we got to talking about was something I'll call 'the young days.'

Certain times throughout my education in biblical studies, I pondered at the world of (Christian) academics, specifically my instructors. I remember having conversations with friends that, though I wanted to be educated and smart, I never wanted to loose that simplicity, that childlike glint in an innocent eye, that simplicity that I feared may had lifted from some of my beloved teachers.

My friend talked to me about his faith, and the holes he was punching in it. There were questions, like uncovered rocks, he was now turning over. "Faith and life used to be simple," he lamented. Simple was life before thinking, before analyzing, before experience.

I, too, remember. When I was 18, 19, all that mattered was that I loved Jesus and wanted to minister to the world. I had fire, and heart. Rawr!

The young days were when you saw in black and white. You experienced God's love in some real way and now you wanted to live the rest of your life pursuing that for others, or whatever version. That's what mattered. Life was simple. Doubt never lurked, ambiguity was too big a word and any other obstacle was minuscule and trivial.

But, time goes by. Then what happens? You grow up (hopefully). You learn. You experience.

Life isn't so cut-and-dry. You take in people, stories and suffering that don't fit well with a simple outlook. What seemed so right before, whether belief or practice, in retrospect, seems ignorant or juvenile. The beautiful simplicity of the young days is overcome by complexity, bringing a host of other dangers.

Some grow up and "realize" that those were the days. It's easy to want them back, or think you want them back. It seems natural, at least if you grew up in and/or regularly participate in American evangelicalism, to dismiss doubt, ambiguity, complexity, skepticism--an odd collection of trademarks for growing faith--as ills to be cured rather than gifts to be treasured; prizes of adulthood.

A friend told me once that it isn't until (roughly) the age of 25 that a person can hold things, two separate ideals or concepts, in tension. Additionally, this is when someone can see (better or, for some, very clearly) the gray amongst the once steady intake of black and white, wrong and right, sin and obedience. Eventually though, simplicity breaks down.

In a culture that worships the age of 21, the glory of the young and the dream of the old and fading, I want to encourage us along the maturity process, to open our arms to welcome things like doubt, complexity and skepticism as friends and companions, though once (or still) strangers. I'm advocating a faith that grows up. Here's my take:

Doubt

This word means many things to many people. Essentially, and in modest terms, I am uncertain about my views on things, things that were, back in the day, easily-grasped and quickly-swallowed, things I didn't think twice on. Specifics? My view of Scripture, my view of Christianity and Christian practice, my view of world religions, my view of myself and my view of God for starters.

Growing-up-faith is one that doubts and a faith that doubts--oddly enough--actually opens you up to learn. What does certainty lack? The ability to hear, listen and learn.

Complexity

I am a firm believer--and I may be wrong, but I doubt it; wink, wink--that nothing is simple. 2 + 2 is fairly straight forward... I'm moving on. Life seems simple when young and naive. But life rarely ends this way.

I don't know about you, but when the profound absurdity of life at all really sets into my bones, I remember again the unavoidable finitude that has seized me. Complexity brings humility, at least it does to me. Amidst the structures and politics, ethnic groups and classes, I find myself as small as ever in my skin and sometimes this is just what I need. I am not as great as I think I am. I am not the center of the universe. God is beyond my cognitive reach. Remembering I am small, reminds me of others and Jesus' command to love.

Skepticism

It's a blessing and a curse. I am a skeptic. I'll admit, way too often my thinking and over-analyzing gets in the way of just enjoying things as they are, which is exactly what is needed sometimes. But, skepticism--that symptom of adulthood--moves you beyond the routine, the normal, the typical. Skeptics call out the phony, the fake, the not-working mechanisms in our religious machinations and call and pray for a fresh take, an in-breaking of fire and wind. Give a skeptic some freedom and she will bust the molds of dead religion and offer a creative space for reflection and transformation.

Check this book out for Addison Hart's take on Christian skepticism, and its good.

Besides, practicing and enjoying our new friends joins us to the massive could of witnesses hovering over us, full of saints beckoning us to follow their example. So grow up. You're in good company.