Month: August 2004

Change of Place

It’s late, and I actually just climbed myself out of bed, but I’ve been trying to get to a point where I could say things all day. I’m just not able to get thoughts organized and on paper unless I’ve had a few hours of peace and rest behind me. Men are supposed to become like their fathers, like women are supposed to become like their mothers, but at least in this one case, I’m more like my mom: I have to have a few hours solitude (which nearly amounts to boredom in some respects) before I can really be worth anything at all.

Speaking of solitude, I seem to have had enough of it yesterday, for I woke up this morning with my head bursting with ideas. Well, perhaps more “whelming” than “bursting” but still… I had thoughts which seemed to me to be inspired. Some of these were little things, like new enthusiasm for some story ideas I had mostly set aside (ideas which, of course did not get written down). But one idea seemed more fundamental: I think I need a name change.

I’m speaking of web domains, not my personal name.

When I came up with the Puretext “brand” I had a different view of what I’d be doing with this site. I was spending most of my online leisure reading online comics, and so was imagining my web presence mostly in terms of entertainment. I don’t do pictures, I write stories and poems. So I called the site Pure Text.

But Pure Text isn’t really an accurate description, any more, of who I am and what I’m trying to do. Granted, I still don’t do pictures, but neither do most webloggers, so that’s not much of a distinction. Pure Text is interesting in terms of an entertainment site, but says nothing in terms of a unique perspective for a Christian weblog. In fact, it doesn’t really communicate that I’m a Christian. Who’d a thunk that I’d ever find myself facing a personal criticism that I’m not effectively communicating that I’m a Christian?

But the truth is that “effectively communicating that I’m a Christian” wasn’t actually very high on my list of priorities a couple of years ago. I had shunted aside a call to “ministry”, and had embraced the idea that I would be some amalgam of art and business. Unabashedly Christian, no doubt, but not in the traditional form of Christian ministry.

I think I may have gotten it just a little bit backwards. More and more it seems to me that it’s the form which needs to be traditional and the substance which needs to be unique. That is, I need to go ahead and give up on this idea that ministry for me won’t look like a normal pastor in a church, and I need to go ahead and accept the fact that the way I think and the way I present myself will always be a little… odd. Because I am a little odd.

All that to say that, if I’m going to have a blog, it’s not going to be an entertainment blog; it’s going to be a ministry oriented blog, because I’m a minister. And it’s not going to be a showcase of what I can do (or have done) but simply an expression of who I am. There have been any number of things that I haven’t blogged about because they didn’t fit with the original vision and I didn’t have a new vision yet to contain them.

Another reason for wanting to change the name is that, when I started this weblog, it was basically a product of me. I’m not going to be a “me” much longer. In a year or less, I’m going to be a “we”, and frankly “Pure Text” is a terrible description of the other part of “us”. Valerie isn’t particularly verbal, and I want to try to include her in any expression of “us.”

So who am we? (oh dear. This grammar thing is getting confusing. I think I’ll just stick with “I” for now.) First and foremost, I am a Christian, a servant of Jesus Christ. My life is forfeit in comparison with his grace and calling. I don’t say that lightly, or like some kind of masochistic cliché. A long time ago, I laid down everything for Him. I haven’t given up my uniqueness and humanity, and I haven’t become some kind of robot. Nevertheless, if I know that God has said it, I’m doing it. Period, Point-blank, no questions asked.

Secondly, I am an evangelical. That means that I believe that one of the primary callings of the Christian is to declare who Jesus Christ is, and what He has done for us. I believe that telling people that they can be saved from sin is as clear and simple as telling someone to boil impure water. There is no justification on my part for occluding knowledge which could save another person’s life. Understand, I don’t assume an obligation to force people to boil their water, or to boil it for them if they don’t want it boiled. But I must not, under any circumstance, withhold any kind information that could benefit another person’s life.

Third, I am a charismatic. That word gets tossed around a lot, and can mean anything from energetic to maniacal. In terms of Christianity, what it really means is simply that I believe that God is actively, presently involved in the lives of men, sort of the dramatic opposite from the deist position. God is interested and involved in people’s lives, not just in the bland “Providential” sense, but in the particular and in the supernatural. “Charismatic” derives from the Greek word “charismata” meaning “gifts” or “graces,” and I believe that the grace that God has given includes the “spiritual gifts” described in I Corinthians 12-14. (It’s a small point until somebody says God doesn’t do that anymore.)

So, reflecting all this, I’m considering a name change. I’m still in the considering stage, so I would appreciate some feedback. The name I’m thinking about is “neumatikos.org.” “Neumatikos” is the Greek word most often translated “spiritual,” as in ode neumatikos, a spiritual song—from Ephesians 5:19 “Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord”. I’d probably put that verse at the top somewhere.

The new name would fill 3 major goals: It would be much more blatantly Christian, it would still have an aspect of the creative in it (at least with the “ode” tacked on somehow) and it would be broad enough that I could include other people (i.e. Valerie) and a greater variety of content.

So thems the thoughts. And now I adjourn to bed.

Stuff You Probably Didn’t Want to Know about Me

I’ve been on a soap kick lately. Usually I don’t go in for bar soap. I like the scrubby gel stuff. But I was at the Body Shop the other day and saw they had a bar soap version of my favorite face wash and I figured, what the hey. So I bought the soap. And I used it, and it was good.

But then my tiny little bar of soap ran out. I suspect it wasn’t designed for full-body use. It was just a little two-inch bar. But it ran out, and I was already in the habit of using a bar of soap in the shower. So I looked down and I saw this other bar of soap that I’d had for a while and decided that it would do.

Bad idea.

I think it was originally some kind of bathstuff gift to Valerie that somehow got to my place and never got used… um, because she doesn’t usually take baths at my place. But I figured somebody had better go ahead and use the stuff or we might as well throw it away. So I used it.

It was some kind of “moisturizing” hand-made stuff with giant swirls of purple that smelled like lavender. But it lathered and got me clean. And then I stepped out of the shower and my first thought was, “wow, I need deodorant.” My second thought was that maybe lavender swirls and male body odor were never meant to go together.

So I plastered the deodorant on thick this morning, and considered pasting the stuff over every inch of my body that I had previously desecrated with lavender swirls. I decided against it on the basis that two wrongs don’t make a right. And contorting my body around in front of the bathroom mirror while lathing deodorant on parts of my body where normally it would never go definitely counts as a wrong in my book.

As a result, today I smell like a purple flower, and I am carefully avoiding any kind of activity which might incite me to sweat, thereby forcing me to smell like purple flowers draped on a stinky horse. With any luck no one will stand close enough to me today to notice either way.

I have also sworn off ever again using any kind of soap which has been clearly designed for a woman.

Two poems

Valerie and I were working on wedding invitations tonight. She found the stationary that she’s been wanting at bargain prices, but we had to order them immediately. This meant that, in order to get our own wording on the cards (instead of stock phrasing), we had to write them up tonight.

We searched for poetry already written that said what we wanted to say, but found none. So I tried my own hand at writing Hallmark poetry.

The first attempt wasn’t so… appropriate:

They called it love when we held our hands together
And called us fools when we allowed not love to take its course
But greater love has none of us than charity
Which lays down its life and takes up another by its choice

It’s a bad omen to mention fornication in the wedding invitation, right?

The second attempt seemed much better, so we’re going with it:

It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves
It is He who has brought us together
His is the tie that shall bind us as one
And His mercies that guard us forever

I would like to point out that it’s been just under a year since I wrote poetry last, and now I’ve written four in as many days. When it rains…

And now it’s late. I’m going to bed.

You Never Leave Me Alone

I see you’re into me
Like a Mozart’s into music
Like a Rembrandt’s into painting
Like a baby’s into being
Being alive

I see you’re into me
Like I should be into you
But I just can’t seem to get my heart around
…Turn my heart around

I see you’re chasing me
Like an comet chasing starlight
Like a clock that’s chasing moments
Like a cloud that’s chasing rain
On a sunny day.

You paste me up like sunshine
Like a cloud that’s chasing rain
You just don’t seem to ever let me down
…Don’t let me down

How many broken bones have you found this way?
How many undertones have you brushed away?
Is there anything left in me that you haven’t changed?
It doesn’t matter, anyway—
You never leave me alone.

I see you’ve got me now
Like a ring around my finger
Like a rope around my neck
Like a chain around my arms
As you lead me home

You’ve captured me for good
I can see it in your eyes
“I’ve finally got you where I want you now”
…I want you now.

How many broken bones have you found this way?
How many undertones have you brushed away?
Is there anything left in me that you haven’t changed?
It doesn’t matter, anyway—
You never leave me alone.

Redemption

I know I have a home in Zion
A land where milk and honey flow
A place where all my dreams and desires
Will fade before the One I know

His glory shines above the highest mountaintops
His patience bears me far beyond my schemes
His love resounds when I am lost and wandering
His grace is far too much for me

And yet somehow, when all the past is gone
When all my brokenness is burned away
When all the crimes of humanness have flown
He still retains the core of me.

I have a home where flowers never fall away
Where birds have yet to fail to sing
Where peace and rest are never far away
And where the One who knows me best returns
To put to rest my best attempts to be.

UPDATE: You know how really good music can do amazing things with mediocre lyrics? Yeah. When I wrote this song, I had the most amazing jazz melody going on with it. It was great. So great, in fact, I didn’t really notice that the lyrics were only so-so. Now, a couple hours later, I’ve completely forgotten the melody and all I have left is the lyrics. What’s more, every time I try to reconstruct the melody from what I remember, it comes out really hick/country sounding.

This song is now totally ruined for me. I hope somebody else gets something out of it.

UPDATE AGAIN: I rememberd my cool melody. Song is better now. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from my disillusionment, though.

Created Again

This is mostly blogging for the sake of blogging, just so I can say that I have been actively writing something.

I made another attempt to start my running curriculum again today, which mostly consists of starting up over and over again, running for a week or so and then some snag comes up which I decide is insurmountable for the time being. The first snag was that the treadmill in the old apartment was broken, so I couldn’t run inside, and the complex was surrounded by high-traffic streets, and I didn’t want to be running in smog. When I moved, my new excuse was that I needed to get up at 5:30 just to get it done and showered and dressed and to work in time. I think I’ve gotten over that one by running in the evening instead of the morning. Pity. Running a “morning mile” sounds a lot cooler. But I have determined to take GW’s position to heart, that the discipline of getting it in somewhere is more important than making everything fit your own itinerary. He runs when he can cram it into his busy schedule. I don’t know why he’s so busy though. Not like he’s doing anything important…

So anyway, I was running (pathetically—I made it just over half a mile before I had to drop to a quick walk) and a song comes to mind. It was something the Lord gave me when I was stressed out a year or so ago over a paper I had to do where I was getting no headway. So around 1:00 at night I go, um, running, to get my mind cleared. I think it worked. I de-stressed a lot, but I still wrote a terrible paper. But somewhere in there I got this song. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a whole song, so it never got posted anywhere. I was shy a few lines in one of the verses, and maybe a bridge. It’s a moot point now—since my hard drives crashed, all I can remember is the chorus:

> You hover over me
> Like the winds of creation
> You hover over me
> Like the voice of the dawn
> You hover over me
> Like the winds of creation
> And I am created again.

It’s a powerful set of lines to me. The Hebrew word for “spirit” is “ruach,” which is simply wind or breath. It’s the word used in Genesis where it says that “the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” And, of course, the next thing that happens is God says “Let there be light” and there is light. The image I always get is like a hen brooding over a nest, which then of course reminds me of Jesus when He said, “how often I have longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.” Whenever I thin of the Spirit of God, hovering protectively over His creation like that, I tend to think:

> You who created the heavens, will you re-create me?

For I know my attentions to Him have been as intermittent as my exercise regimen.

Oh, I’m a Christian, saved by his mighty grace, purchased by his blood, redeemed and continually being sanctified. But honestly, I’m not what I ought to be. Please, I know that. I don’t really even what to be what I ought to be. I want to be what I already am, and leave it at that. I want to think that I’m already “good enough,” as if “good enough” were something that could be measured.

In two different places in the psalms, “the psalmist” goes through an almost identical harangue mocking people who make up their own gods. Ps 115 puts it this way:

>They have mouths, but they do not speak;
> Eyes they have, but they do not see;
> They have ears, but they do not hear;
> Noses they have, but they do not smell;
> They have hands, but they do not handle;
> Feet they have, but they do not walk;
> Nor do they mutter through their throat.
> [vs 5-7. The other psalm is 135]

We like to think we don’t have idols, especially since, in modern English, any idol is by definition a false one. But honestly, we do—or at least I do. I didn’t fashion them out of stone or wood or gold, but they have all the above characteristics: that is, they can do nothing. But they somehow always seem to tell me exactly what I want to hear. While I was singing this song, jogging down the road, the Lord started showing me that I’m still like that. I have all these gods that echo back to me whatever it is that I’m already saying to myself. It’s so gratifying “to hear my opinion backed by a competent authority.” But I realized the reason they echo back to me is because they’re hollow. All form and no substance. Verse 8 says, “Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.” My gods are a reflection of me. They are hollow because I am hollow.

They echo because they are hollow. That’s their purpose. I am hollow because I am meant to be filled with something. That’s my purpose. I don’t think we’ll ever get over the need for something to tell us who we are: men are made for community. We have to work in conjunction with something. We make idols to echo back to us who we are, what we want to hear, but “Our God is in heaven” and “he does whatever pleases him” (ver.3).

I am a vessel, made to be filled by him, to be used by him. But I am a living vessel, prone to reshaping myself, prone to following my own agenda. So often I don’t even want to be what I ought to be. This earthen vessel cracks, and all His goodness leaks out. (I’m reminded of the space ship in Flight of the Navigator: “I do not leak, Navigator, you do—remember?) I need the Holy Spirit to hover over me and create me all over again. And that is precisely what He does.