Intelligent Christian Life Forms

With the heat here in Washington nearing 95, and with our air conditioning on the blink, I took my semi-monthly stroll to area bookstores to peruse their religion and philosophy sections. I do this partly because I'm a geek; partly because I like to see what other stores carry. I'll non-chalantly flip over new titles and abscond with an ISBN to order into my bookstore. Today, I was especially sad. Maybe this isn't something new, but I noticed something a bit vexing today.

Of the three major book chains I visited today, I came to the conclusion that unless you read the "Left Behind" series (and honestly believe it), or bathe in the gnosticism of the DaVinci Code, you aren't the type of Christian they want shopping in their stores. God-forbid that someone on the Christian journey would saunter into one of these bookstores looking for a book on prayer and spiritual disciplines, not to mention Christian social action. Orthodox theology can't even be found, nor feminist or emerging theologies; not even a drop of Church history. Plenty of Church fantasy, little of Church history.

All this makes me proud of my employer (no this is not an advertisement). I'm proud that we can be a place where intelligent Christian life can be nurtured, formed, supported, and challenged. Not a lot of booksellers can say that in these Purpose Driven days.

Again, Again

Last night I went to a wedding preception (yes, preception) for two seminary friends who are getting hitched. About 11:30, I get a call from Metropolitan Police Department. They found my car and arrested a suspect. Today I went to claim it, but it had been towed by a towing company and is locked up there currently. I saw it on the truck bed and I didn't notice any major damage.

Thank you everyone for your kind words and prayers during this time. Please continue to pray for the person who stole the car and his or her family. At a time like this, we need all the prayers we can!

Again

Well - it was bound to happen. And just like Anne Lamott refers to her prize at the grocery store as "that f*cking ham," I am destined to refer to my automobile as "that f*cking car." Two and a half years ago it was stolen from in front of my friend Joe's apartment. In a freak Seinfeld-esque turn of events, I got it back. This morning I went out to go to work and the car was gone. STOLEN. When I called the police, the dispatcher seemed to know exactly which car I was talking about and even called me back to let me know that an officer wouldn't show up, but that I'd get a call with numbers about insurance information.

I'm in the pit. I wrote my boss and work colleagues. I signed the email like I normally do: Grace and peace. And then, I realized something. Grace and peace was not a blessing in that moment, but a prayer. So in parentheses, I added - in big capital letters: PLEASE!

I am broken, Lord.
Help me to find the quiet space.
So that when my heart stops pounding
and my stomch stops turning
and my head stops reeling,
I can just be.
Amen.

Heal My Heart

Ever since I moved into this great new house, I've been having neighbor problems. Almost every Saturday night they have a party. The music is so loud you can feel the beat through the walls and the floorboards. Usually the festivities last until 1 or 2 in the morning. Sometimes there is a band; afterwards they congregate on the street and talk loudly so that we can hear them in our bedrooms. Sometimes there is a DJ - that means there is a generator to power the lights and sound sytem adding to the cacophanous noise. From this description you can already surmise that I don't live next to your typical house. It's not a house. Nor is it a bar. It's a church.

The congregation rents out spaces for parties on Saturday nights. I know many congregations do this to raise funds and to reach out to the community. That's not the problem. The after midnight end time is the problem. If we lived in a commercial neighborhood, I say, "Sure - party on." But we live on a street that is residentially zoned. And calling the police doesn't help. Going next door to request that they turn the music down certainly doesn't help either. Tonight I was met with rude comments and a flippant "oh, we'll be finished soon." That was 45 minutes ago.

I tried to stay calm when presenting my request. But when I came home all I really wanted to do was curse and chuck a brick through their windows. I know nothing excuses an action like that, but my heart was - and still is - heavy with sorrow for my emotions and for the actions of my neighbors.

Heal my heart, O merciful God.
Fill me with love and grace and peace.
Guide me to serenity, lead me to speak with authority and compassion.
Be with me, heal me, grow your Spirit within me.