Vignette: Manistee Galaxies

Image not modified using software; Taken 9/25/14 at 10:03PM EST
F-stop: f/1.8
Exposure time: 8 seconds
ISO: 1600
Auto white balance
with Nikon D7000 body and Nikon 35mm f/1.8G AF-S DX Lens

The field of stars here is another image from my professors' 80 acres in Manistee, MI.  This was taken from my campsite.  After taking some photographs at the lake I headed back to gaze in my chair before bed, away from the droves of mosquitoes.

Earlier in the summer in Mackinaw City at a Dark Sky event, I was shown where to find the Andromeda Galaxy, M31.  I dutifully returned to find it in this pristine bit of dark sky.  Not only was I rewarded with a sighting of Andromeda (bright smudge high and left of center), but I discovered later at my computer that I had also captured the Triangulum Galaxy, M33, by accident (dim smudge center, near bottom).  See if you can find it.

This image uses the same settings as my Lake Olga Milky Way photograph.  You can see some stars beginning to trail in the corners, upper left in particular.  Some of the brighter stars in the center make up the constellation of Andromeda.  One can use these as signposts to find the location of the galaxies.

Vignette: Mackinac Island Harbor Blues

Image converted from RAW to jpeg in ViewNX 2; Taken 9/18/14 at 10:42AM EST
F-stop: f/8
Exposure time: 1/250 seconds
ISO: 100
Auto white balance
with Nikon D7000 body and Nikon 35mm f/1.8G AF-S DX Lens

This fall I camped with my parents and friend Cam in Mackinaw City.  It was my first vacation after graduate school, and our first time fall camping on the Straits.  Chilly and delightful.

We found the B&B that a friend of my father was staying at with his wife and this was a view of some docks off the back of it.  It was such a cool, clear day and the moors were so, so empty.  The contrast with summertime bustle struck me right away.

Most striking though were the hues of blue that plastered themselves on any surface they could.  The dock paint contrasted with the water, contrasted with the sky and clouds, contrasted with dock paint.

Vignette: Drizzly Lake Cadillac

Image not modified using software; Taken 12/27/14 at 1:56PM EST
F-stop: f/11
Exposure time: 1/4000 seconds
ISO: 6400
Auto white balance
with Nikon D7000 body and Nikon 35mm f/1.8G AF-S DX Lens

My family and I went to do some XC skiing in Cadillac this Christmas break, but ended up geocaching in the rain instead.  We were driving along the channel between Lake Cadillac and Lake Mitchell when I stopped for this photo.

It was soggy, wet, cold and windy.  Alas, I was the only one who wanted to stand outside.  I wouldn't necessarily recommend these settings, but I wanted to boost the contrast between the open water on the lake and the ice that the crazy fishermen were risking their lives on.  The graininess is an effect from the high ISO setting combined with short exposure time.

I like how the photograph ended up being somewhat old timey and how the patterns in the ice were accentuated.

Vignette: Lake Olga Milky Way

Image not modified using software; Taken 9/25/14 at 9:19PM EST
F-stop: f/1.8
Exposure time: 8 seconds
ISO: 1600
Auto white balance
with Nikon D7000 body and Nikon 35mm f/1.8G AF-S DX Lens

I made this image while tenting for a couple nights in Manistee, MI on 80 acres that a professor of mine at Calvin owns.

Conditions were nearly perfect: the moon was new, Lake Olga is in the middle of private and federal forest land away from cities, and the humidity was fairly low that day.  This photograph was taken well after dark.

Though invisible to my eye, an 8 second exposure was still enough to pick up some lingering rays from the setting sun, below the horizon.  This allowed for some color in the sky and clouds, yet was dark enough to expose the Milky Way in the southwestern sky.

Exposing for longer than 8 seconds with my 35mm lens would start to cause star trailing, so I kept it to a minimum.  As your focal length increases, you will need to decrease your exposure time in order to avoid the trailing effect.

Local/global missions

"Famine, affluence, and morality" (2008 post, UMD summary) has informed my thought process on the necessity of philanthropy and aid. We are bound by morality to care for those that need. I would further stipulate that Christians have a greater call not based in morality, but grace. Echos of a divine gift. Given the myriad need, painfully evident, how do we balance global and local efforts?

Is that a question worth asking? Each community has its own needs and its own resources. Some have more than others. This wealth/poverty gradient tends to guide giving. If everyone carried out the conclusion that Singer comes to, we wouldn't need to have this decidedly capitalist conversation. Be that as it may, missions organizations must consider opportunity costs.

And suddenly we are met with a value question. Who is most worth it?

Placing effort and resources in developing nations seems like it would be the obvious choice because of the larger gap in standard of living. But how effective and efficient is this? Do foreign organizations properly understand the needs at the local level? How important is it to be part of the community being served?

On the other hand, we know much more about the needs in our communities we live in, but the cause may not seem as mighty or desperate.

In striking a balance there really can't be a right answer.  I think local and global missions serve different purposes.

Global (or efforts outside of one's own community) mission tends to have a huge impact on the folks who leave their environment to enter into another community to give.  It leaves a mark.  People change after these experiences.  Whatever value they may impart to the new community in service is dwarfed by the person they become after seeing realities that are raw, broken or harsh.  It gives perspective.  Many come back and explain it this way: "they blessed me more than I blessed them."  Cliche phrases aside, perspectives shift.

Local mission on the other hand is done in one's own community, a known place.  It might not be sexy, you probably won't fly thousands of miles to face culture shock.  One doesn't need to go far to find people that need Jesus.  No matter how far you go though, mission validates another human being--it assures that something isn't right in that place.  Proximity is powerful.  How valuable is an assurance from a neighbor?  Very, I think.

I don't think balance is something to worry about.  Local and global mission drive each other and reinforce both efforts--something I've observed and been involved in directly.  In fact, David Mathis at desiringGod.org describes it as a seamless garment.

The garment is worth it.

What's your perspective?  Is there a balance to be struck?

Lyrics and singing in worship

Singing loudly and sincerely in worship is one of my favorite things.  I developed the love during LOFT on Sunday nights as a student at Calvin and never looked back.  Singing is a very emotional experience--the voices of those all around you fill the space with melody and harmony.  The sound washes over you.  In fact, it's easy to get caught up while singing in worship.  And it can be both good and bad.

To be caught up in worship of the Creator is a beautiful thing.  To be caught up in singing the words to a catchy, well written song is an entirely different thing.  It is the latter that I struggle with.

It's important to think about the lyrics--even to go as far as to periodically stop singing, to listen and evaluate.  Do I mean every word that is displayed on the screen?  Is this my honest prayer?

Most of the time I mean the things I say.  So I find myself stopping, listening.  I consider the words coming out of my mouth--do they track?  Sometimes yes, sometimes no.  If I sang every word I ever saw on the screen during every service I attended, I would be a liar.  And I have been a liar...a well meaning liar.  Perhaps you have too.

But...it's hard to feel an emotional connection while thinking about intention and meaning.  Emotion is part of worship because we are emotional beings.  There is value to it.  Striking the balance between intention and emotion in worship may be difficult, but I think it is important if we hope to bring glory to and find delight in God through our worship.

8 ways lists enrich our lives

This is a poorly conceived "meta analysis" of "list 'culture'" on the "internet" "cir"ca 2014/2015.  Navigate the following list-about-how-awesome-lists-are at your own peril.

1. Lists give us a reason to use ordinal numbers in a way that disrespects rank because it's rendered meaningless.
2. The fine folks at buzzfeed keep their jobs, and unemployment numbers stay down.
3. We validate ourselves and determine what kind of people we are based on another person's conception of group characteristics, despite a total lack of expertise in the list maker.
4. Lists allow us to make "No true Scotsman" judgments of others.
5. We can learn exciting new things about ourselves, such as which Disney Princess best represents the condition of our liver/kidneys/spleen.
6. Lists free us from reading long prose by breaking text up into bitesized portions, contributing to our soundbyte-ridden-culture-of-noise that promotes smaller attention spans.
7. We are able to avoid human contact in public places and transit by staying glued to our scintillating phones, pretending to be in conversation or communication, though conveniently engaging ourselves in short bursts via list format.
8. Because I love them.

In conclusion, lists are bae and I need them to navigate the confusing place that the 21 century is becoming, and the way the world has been since 1989.

Blind faith

An upsetting observation I've made in Christianity today has to do with the concept of blind faith.  Specifically, I take issue with the value placed in blind faith--the idea that true faith must be blind.  This is touted both by fundamentalist Christians and by members of the new-atheism movement.

The opposite seems more likely.  Faith that results from curiosity and questions and dissatisfaction has been tested and proven.  It has dimension and reason and conflict.  Faith borne of struggle has been places and is dynamic.  Faith with a history is compelling--it has a narrative and a song that it sings.  In many cases, it has almost died.

Is trust more profound if it proceeds from a refusal to engage or approach?  That's never the case.

Does it mean that we don't believe God, or that we're suspicious?  It can.  But maybe it means that we honestly just don't understand all that God is, and that through questions and doubt, we can wrap a little bit of our brains around her/his attributes.

I don't want the church to be satisfied with letting others do our thinking for us.  The pastors I know welcome questions.  They love conversations about tough doctrine.  Pastors are probably ok if you don't take their word for it.  Because they study the Bible, they probably want you to as well.

The FaithFacts article is superb, and I like what they have to say:

God has not told us everything there is to know, but He has told us enough with which to navigate existence.

I'll leave off with an interesting metaphor from Stand to Reason:

The good news about faith is that God honors even the smallest amount. When I fly around the country, I see both seasoned travelers and first-time fliers. The businessmen are relaxed, almost bored, at the thought of flying 500 mph at nearly 40,000 feet above the earth. The grandma on her first flight, however, grips her armrest like her life depends on it. Although the seasoned traveler has more trust (faith) in the airplane, both passengers safely arrive at the destination and at the same time. Their outcome is the same, regardless of how large or little their faith in flying.

Got Questions?         |         Summit         |         FaithFacts         |         Stand to Reason

Faith, confidence and criticism

What does it mean to be confident in your faith?  Confidence in faith sounds like an oxymoron.

Faith is a trust.  It means you are at an information disadvantage and someone has claimed an idea that you cannot personally verify.  And you give them your credence.

I have faith in God.  God is an untestable hypothesis.

What gives me confidence in a concept such as God then?  See Hebrews 11.

1. Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, being convinced of what we do not see.
2. For by it the people of old received God’s commendation.
3. By faith we understand that the worlds were set in order at God’s command, so that the visible has its origin in the invisible.

I don't like the idea of being convinced of something that I have no evidence for.  But, I still follow Jesus.  What it comes down to, is that I accept the Bible and the God that is written about in it.

The Bible is a weird book, and I kind of like that about it--full of disaster, calamity, betrayal and love, it doesn't hide much.  My trust is that the God presented in the Bible is real, invisible yes, and honest in his interactions with humanity.

I trust that the story in it about God and her/his followers is true.  I believe that God called a group of Israelites to follow him and that he calls us too.  I like reading about the way the people of old explained who and what God is, and I think that we still try to do that, with our own paltry metaphors.

Faith shouldn't stop us from struggling though.  There is space to be critical of the Bible and of God.  In fact Jacob wrestled with God and then received the name Israel, becoming in essence the first ruler as the father of the twelve tribes.  Kind of an odd turn of events after a struggle with God.

Struggling and questioning only makes having faith harder--depending on your questions, nigh on impossible.  But to me that gives it added dimension and so much more meaning.  So, have confidence, have faith, have questions and have doubts.  You're still welcome at the table.

"Diversity" and the multinorm

My friend Jade writes expressively and poignantly about, well everything.  She posted about diversity in campus ministry and got me thinking.

Jade cuts right to the point with this statement:

Seeking to increase structural diversity (i.e. the people who are participants in the campus ministry) without seeking to increase multicultural competence to honor them once they GET there will always betray a lack of forethought & process.

One of the things that inhibits the development of true diversity and meaningful connections is the retention of a singular "normal" culture.  This is a regard for different cultures that does not recognize the existence of multiple normals.  To me this is particularly apparent in the part of west Michigan where the white, middle class Dutch culture tends to be acknowledged as normal.  I imagine this to be true of most homogenous communities.  Other is often regarded as a curiosity and as a shift from the expected normal.  It takes more than curiosity to promote diversity.

The view of another culture as a curiosity does not allow it to be engaged meaningfully, especially if it is relegated to an object of entertainment.  Culture can become an object to be used and discarded at will or impulse, a fun theme.

Unfortunately it can be exhausting to put time into properly understanding and appreciating different cultures.  Culture is how we self-identify, so it takes empathy to do diverse communities properly.  Organizations need to be able to value and support multiple identities.  It starts with people.  It takes the willingness to walk miles and miles and miles in the shoes of other people.  Different people.  People that you might find difficult to identify with.  Cultural fluency is like language fluency in that it takes time and in most cases, immersion.

In my experience, true, beautiful diversity was not coaxed, grown and cultivated by a group of White people, or by a group of Black people or any other homogenous group.  It was supported by, and happened because of heterogeneous community.  See the community toolbox for tips!  Start by accepting anyone that wants to join your group.

Unless we can commit to the development of multiple normals, then we cannot really talk about diversity.  There would be no point.

Depth of feeling

To feel intensely is to take delight in a frigid drive through a barren, white fieldscape of chopped corn, just because at that moment you can be in that place and not in another.

To feel deeply is to agonize over a person or thought for hours, like they were there with you.

To feel intensely is to constantly desire to project your experiences in life onto the ones you love and care about--to crave reciprocity and validation.

+ to be talked up and talked down by friends over trivialities, and always hope that they don't get sick of you.
+ to share too much with too many people too quickly because feedback is a drug.
+ to feel elated and devastated over the slightest of interactions and to over-analyze every last feeling that passes the cortex.
+ to withdraw and hope that no one notices until you're ready to re-emerge.
+ to drink music from a ladle and spill it all over.
+ to be effusive, sometimes uncomfortably.
+ to hide this intensity.

through introspection to somehow come back to a balance and do it all over again the next time.  When the worst is always the first thought, it can take until the afternoon to recover.

Being missional in Georgetown township

Being missional is hard.  It took me 24 years to have a missional mindset that worked for me.  Before that, it was a lofty ideal, a thing that good Christians did.  It was a concept I didn't really try to understand because I wasn't that kind of Christian.

Then I arrived at Penn State.  My Christian bubble had burst.  The surface was pricked and the tension broke, collapsing upon itself.  I was terrified and mortified that someone would notice I was a Christian.  They would lambast me and humiliate me in front of my peers.  I would feel stupid, exposed and lose everything.

It didn't take long to make friends among my cohort.  We three, Athos and Aramis and Porthos, from Calvin found friendship among our peers.  For myself, I made some of my first non-Christian friends.  Some were atheist, others agnostic (a self described atheist-agnostic even), some Muslims, others Hindu and many were just apathetic.  It was classes like Transport (Deen), Statistical Thermodynamics, and Reaction Kinetics that really brought us together.  It was confusion and unending problem sets and projects, that kept us together as we pored over our derivations and code.  It was Anupam's understanding of calculus that was so so so superior to mine XD.

And just like that, I had friends who didn't think like me.  In some cases we were diametrically opposed.  And we had lunch together nearly every day.  We drank too much, ate too much (purse bacon) and partied together.  And we had long conversations about politics and about science and about how "I'm right and your tensor has the wrong rank!"  But eventually, about "how can we solve this?"

It was in our second year that we a few of us started having deeper back and forths about meaning and religion and belief and unbelief.  It was coffee and lunch and interviews and dialogue.  It was friendship.  It wasn't Hudsonville and it wasn't Georgetown township.  But it can be.

You like going to that brewpub down the street?  Make a friend there.  No strings attached, a friend.  Do you have neighbors that aren't Christians?  Befriend them and have dinner parties.  Don't steer the dialogue, have conversations.  Did your firm hire a new guy/gal?  Get coffees or beers after work.  Talk about hobbies and dreams.  Those guys and girls on your floor in college that don't go to church?  Spend time with them, watch movies, stay out late doing nothing together.  Cause mischief.

Go where the people who don't know Jesus are.  They aren't going to walk into your church.

But when should I ask them to come to church?  Try this first: work at a friendship.  God doesn't need you.  But that doesn't mean God doesn't want to use you.  God works through Christians that are open to seeing life through in the long term.  That doesn't mean shelving the gospel or hiding your faith.  It means real friendship without conditions and taking the opportunities that God gives you.  Unless we make space and trust for these conversations to happen, they won't.  So make friends and let God work.

bee and bird

Once there was a little bee, rather bookish, and only dimly aware of the ways of the world.  The bee was content to buzz around and think of nectar and stamen and all the supple petals in a variegated field of tulips.  He often went to and fro among meadows and fields, partaking of the pollen in myriad blooms.  Each new flower seemed a new oasis to drink and taste and ponder.

One day, perusing a lilac blossom, the bee noticed perched nearby a feathered, curious creature.  A bird.  It was rather unlike the bee, though both made their way though the air with ease.  Our little bee was unsure of what the nearby avian wanted with the lilacs.  It had no way of collecting the delicious pollen, and seemed to be different from the bee in almost every way.  The bee tried to greet the bird by shaking his tail and buzzing a bit, but the bird didn't appear to notice and flew away.

Out in the world of flower, nectar, tree and brush the bee began to notice birds as they flitted from tree to tree and made loud squawks and cheerful chirrups.  They were hard to understand.  Birds didn't wiggle and buzz to one another.  They were beautiful, imposing and scary, baleful.  The bee liked them.  He began to pick up on some of their sounds, noticed the differences in tone and frequency.  Though the bee could not make those sounds, he still tried to greet nearby bees when they lit upon nearby branches.  They did not seem to care.

It was many a day before the bee succeeded in his efforts.  One day he was buzzing with some other bees, doing his little butt wiggle, when a small, songbird perched nearby and took interest.  Her head was black, wings brown, with dull copper breast feathers.  The bird made some of the same wiggles and chirruped.  The bee looked up at the creature that had been an object of fear and worry and mystery.  He waved his butt back at her and made a little warble, like the bird had.  Cocking her head, the robin ruffled her feathers a bit and flew away.

The bird often returned to perch near the bee.  They would trade buzzes, chirps and warbles.  Over time, the two developed a kind of understanding, common movement and sound.  Bee would tell bird of hive life, of dances and work and nectar.  Bird would describe nests and soaring and heights and worms.  Bird did not seem as scary as other birds.  Maybe birds were more like bee than he knew.  They were pulchritudinous and deft and fell and enigmatic.  Sometimes he liked to wiggle in a circle to the birds.
--
I was inspired to write this after reading "Davita's Harp" by Chaim Potok, from the stories of the character Jakob Daw.  My little sister gives good gifts.

Finding God space again

My physical body and motley pile of trappings and belongings have been spirited away from State College for 5 months already.  That went pretty painlessly, though I definitely left it all in the middle of the floor in my parents basement until I had to clear it away for Christmas.  My routine has even made the trip, now that I have work and a schedule that I'm responsible for.  Things look like they're coalescing back to normal on the outside.  On the work side.  On the material side.

If only moving were as simple as transporting collections of atoms.

I'm still moving back emotionally and spiritually.  Those are the parts that give me the most inner turmoil and heartache.  For good reason.

Emotionally
During one of the most intellectually stimulating, stressful, and at times, traumatic periods of my life, I was part of a group of people that were experiencing similar delights, joys and atrocities.  Those bonds don't dissolve (nor would I want them to!), or fade from memory quickly.  The feeling of disjointed connectedness remains, with a physical separation of hundreds of miles.  I feel pangs and memories and aches almost daily.

Friendships change over time and space.  In a way they become windows and views of former places from lofty heights.  The lofty heights of memory, text messages and phone calls don't do friendship justice.  Sharing a cup of coffee or a beer over the phone is...well...inane.  But that is how life forces us to reconcile new places; memories and intermittent contact.  And we drink deeply of the cold, sweet water of reconnection.

Emotionally, I may always straddle the places in life where I've felt and experienced intense emotion.  Everyone does and deals with it in their own ways.  Some ignore the past, some live in the past, and others come to terms with a life of small, constant, distant tugs.  I imagine the latter will always be true for me.  There is too much in the past to forget it, and too much in the future to embrace with open arms.

Spiritually
Perhaps the language of moving and fixed destinations is not appropriate for the topic of a spiritual journey.  However, the setting in any journey does change, and impact the traveler directly, so in that sense I am moving in a different phase of life spiritually.

Life in Penn State Christian Grads (PSCG) was a very stimulating experience.  My head-space was occupied with lofty precipices and even more subterranean lows when it came to questions of faith, meaning and purpose.  There were honest conversations between minds questioning and probing, that received no answers some days and few the next.  Daily struggle was not uncommon, and at times it was exhausting.  Confidence is a quantity that was once prized, but comes to be despicable in many ways.  It seems impossible to return to confidence in anything after a point.  However, despite the unruliness and at times stark contradictory nature of this newer reality, I would never trade this part of my journey.

PSCG is a group of dear friends who cared deeply about each other and still do.  We are scholars from different fields seeking the gospel and life in Jesus, and engaging thoughtfully and honestly with our peers in the hope that they will join us.  We are a missional community.
Throw in the occasional heretical conversation in the "College and Careers" adult bible fellowship that I led at church and you get the mess that I called a spiritual life.   But it took years to cultivate the space for safe, honest questions, and for conversation and dialogue without judgment.  Those opportunities don't materialize from nothing.  God space requires time and effort.

It's taking a while, but I'm finding that space.  Sometimes that space means a small, intimate group during a Sunday night prayer service at the church I grew up in.  At other times it's time spent skyping weekly with two of my closest friends.  God space can be at a brewery for a weekly bible study as easily as it can be at a new church I've found, spending time on Sunday morning in worship.  I'm finding my new God spaces in a new/old place.  Looking forward, I'm excited to see what space I will find in Young Life for eastern Ottawa.  There is space to talk about spiritual things everywhere, it just needs to be cultivated.  YOU can cultivate it.

Biblical womanhood?

[source]

You will be better off reading thoughts on womanhood from a woman's perspective, but I'm a man, so this is as good as I can do (I'll point you to some women though, fear not).

Let's look at one of the quintessential passages on biblical womanhood, often used to define roles, stances and limits.
A first reading of 1 Timothy 2:9-15 might give you the impression that women are to be submissive, silent and deferential to men, if you take it as translated and ignore the context.  It's tempting to stop there and reject women as leaders in the church, particularly if you're a man, because without context that's exactly what Paul (in the Bible, as one of God's inspired authors) is saying.  But context is important.  Here are some examples:

How much less compelling does "the Jungle" by Upton Sinclair become without understanding of the plight of immigrants, wage slavery and the horrors of the meatpacking industry at the time?  What does "1984" mean if you ignore the socialist politics of Europe at the time?  Context means that maybe we can have allegory and symbolism.

Let's look at Paul's statements in verses 11 and 12:

2:11 A woman must learn ¹⁸  quietly with all submissiveness. 2:12 But I do not allow ¹⁹  a woman to teach or exercise authority ²⁰  over a man. She must remain quiet.

I don't know if I like Pauline theology any more...he's starting to sound downright draconian and misogynistic.  I sure wish I knew more about Jewish culture at the turn of the millennium...but wait!  The study note [19] in the NET Bible provides some clarification:

This was a radical and liberating departure from the Jewish view that women were not to learn the law.

Huh.  Not allowed to learn the law at all?  I guess Paul was a bit of a feminist then, eh?  Given that bit of history, maybe Paul qualified his statement in verse 11 with the part in verse 12 about not allowing women to teach or exercise authority because he would have been seen as too radical and not been taken seriously in his letters to Timothy.  If that doesn't seem plausible, let's look look at some more modern examples from American history.

African slave emancipation and eventual civil rights movement

The 13th ammendment was a giant leap.  A giant leap followed by bitter disenfranchisement for people of color throughout the Reconstruction and Jim Crow periods.  In 1896 we even had Plessy vs Ferguson and the beginning of "separate but equal".
Finally in 1964 and 1965 the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts were passed.  Human rights issues take a long time, and we still struggle today with the legacy of this fight.  I find it hard to believe that there would have been widespread acceptance if the Civil Rights Act of 1964 had been passed in 1865.  It would have been too radical.  History seems to support this.

Women's suffrage

Women's suffrage started state by state, beginning with Wyoming in 1869.  In 1917, Alice Paul was jailed for picketing in front of the Whitehouse, but it took 3 more years until on June 4, 1920 the 19th ammendment was approved by the Senate and later ratified.  It started small, in spurts, and took over 50 years of increasing measures of legality to be fully accepted.  Radical at one time.

Were we not talking about Paul and Timothy and biblical womanhood though?
Ok, let's get back to them.  If Paul had said that women and men should be on equal footing with respect to teaching and preaching and positions of authority in the church, how many people (men, since women weren't really people yet) do you think would have listened?  [Preemptive apology for caps.]  WOMEN DIDN'T EVEN GET TO VOTE IN THE UNITED STATES UNTIL 1920!!!  Radical.

If we contextualize Paul's statements, we lose the literal vision of biblical womanhood as "the best plan for your life is to find a good Christian man who will lead your family and provide enough that you can stay home".  What we find instead is a statement of radical liberation for women at the time (...and now).  Radical liberation sounds more like what Jesus taught:

For by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.

and:

'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.' The second is: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these.

But don't take my word for it.  Ask a woman what womanhood is for her.  She'll have a better, more informed perspective, impassioned by actual experience as a woman seeking her Savior.  God's plan for her is what womanhood is for her.  That sounds kind of biblical.  Radical.

As far as reading goes: you can start here. And definitely go here (I started here; Rachel Held Evans is da bomb #preachit)!  If you're still reading and interested, there is also this.
A dude wrote this post, which I loved, and it's how I found the 'precious moments' image.

Sloats and Frains: Laufen

Out of physical necessity and boredom, I found myself spending a very cherished parcel of time running along the Selz river (creek) from Ingelheim to Großwinternheim during the summer of 2010.  Of course, I was in terrible shape at the beginning of my internship.  Struggling to keep running, I maintained a slow pace, enough at least to preserve some semblance of a jog until I crossed at the traffic circle and left the town proper.  More out of vanity than anything else, my will was to avoid walking.

If I could, I would go back in a heartbeat to relive the time I spent along that trail during the summer nights.  The air was clear and clean though occasionally thick and schwül before a storm.  I learned quickly that you don't drink Mineralwasser before a run, or you'll have a bad time (too much CO2 was my conjecture), and I sweated so much you'd think I was turning into a raisin.

My runs would begin with a westward walk along Binger Straße, past the Turkish restaurant, book store and motor bike shop.  Just off the main sidewalk, I would begin my run by darting down a small alley and jog along the Realschule parking lot.  The parking lot joined a cobblestone path along the Selz next to the large dome recycling containers that look like Cold War relics and litter German cities, towns and dorfs.

Turning south, the cobblestones tag along playfully with the burbling Flüsschen, and I pass Ingelheimers walking and loafing on the path or playing soccer in the fenced in "soccer courts" ("field" doesn't really describe the woodchip coated, spartan, functional enclosures).  My feet pound the stones and inwardly I groan with frustration initially at my out of shape heart, lungs and legs.  It probably takes me three weeks before I can muster up the strength to make it the whole 4.5 km to GWH, and another two to make it back without stopping.

The first road I cross over leaves the town and opens up into meadows of bright, blooming goldenrod, presided over by the local Bismarckturm.  Neighboring the "soccer courts", numerous families plant large gardens that border the path, with what amounts to a farms-worth of vegetables and cultivated space.  Finally the path crosses the Selz, traversing a traffic circle before heading again south into pastureland.

A last kick of civilization soon blends into scrub and hay fields, accompanied by ripe smells indicating the presence of livestock.  Sheep!  They drape themselves over the landscape, bleating contentedly as I pass them.  Lambs dart away from the fence as I come near, and find some less dangerous grass to chew.

The Selz is clothed in a short, but thick layer of trees.  As the path again approaches the stream, it is hard to ignore the collection of habitations resembling a commune that blends in with the trees.  There are audible sounds of domesticated animals, but I never find out if the settlement is inhabited, or abandoned.  One small cart path leads in, and I am much to timid to explore further than fire furtive glances down into the receding gloom, from my perch on the path.

Leaving the cover of trees again, I pass a small collection of apple trees on the left, and on my right ogle the barns and pastures occupied by horses doing their cantering, trotting and other horsy things.  Rather unexpectedly, the trail shoots uphill and skirts some small jumps for BMX bikes, before gently sloping past the first backyards that welcome me into Großwinternheim.

Slowly I loped longer and faster, until I was doing 9km easy, most nights of the week.  Not bad for a wannabe German raisin.

God's honesty: Parable of the Weeds

I don't usually feel like God speaks to me when I read the Bible.  Not like, "Hey Steve, here's what you need to know about me..."  It's usually a feeling or a sense of new understanding, just not a literal phrase or sentence.

Last night was a different story however, thanks to some great friends and the NET version of Matthew 13:24-30.  I'm not talking something audible, but it was as close as I'm comfortable with experiencing.

The insight for this came from the note in verse 25 on the nature of weeds.  I had always understood weeds in the context of what they look like here in west Michigan, maybe a poke weed or a thistle.  The weed being referred to here though is probably darnel, or ζιζάνιον (zizanion), if you can read Greek (I cannot).

Darnel is a plant that looks very similar to wheat, but is poisonous.  First, this tells me that it's not so easy to separate the good from the bad, and it makes the world a very real place.  Not ideal.  That shouldn't be news to anyone.

My sentence from God came as a clarification to the problem of evil in the world.  It is very easy to look at the desolation and hurt and pain in the world, and ask, "how could there be a God who would let this happen?  Does s/he even care?"  That's a very reasonable question to ask.  I'm not going to give you a proof for why God exists or doesn't, that can't be done, and it frustrates me to no end.  What I will do is tell you something about God, if you believe her/him to exist.  God is honest.

If you believe God exists, then occasionally you will bump into something in the Bible that seems morally questionable if God is God.  If God is love, mercy and kind.  I'm going to ask that you suspend your human perspective on morality, because frankly, you don't have an eternal perspective, or even a 7th dimensional perspective (you can bet I wish for even a 5th dimensional perspective every day).  Don't suspend your idea of morality forever though, you can have it back later, you will need it to remain human.

In verses 28 and 30, God says to me, "I know there is evil, and I know you see it.  I see it too.  But this is my plan, despite how it may not make sense and hurt from your perspective."  He says: "An enemy has done this."  "Let both grow together until the harvest."

In this instance, in this parable, in this story, I hear God saying to me: "I know.  I know.  This is the decision I have made from my perspective, it might not make sense from yours.  You will have to fight to grow in the midst of a weed filled world.  You will struggle to receive the sunlight you need.  You will compete for water with the weeds, but in the end, I know the wheat and I know the darnel.  I'm going to gather you into my barn."

I hear an acknowledgment from God that the world is a confusing place, but that he's letting us grow this way for now:

‘An enemy has done this...in gathering the weeds you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.'

 I don't understand why s/he's doing it this way, but God isn't hiding it either.  S/he's honest with us about it.

I am a cynical Christian

I am cynical.  I am occasionally bitter.  Despite this, I love people, really love them, even if I hurt deeply and don't do it as well as I'd like.  I fight intellectual elitism in myself, and idealism in churches.  Let me unpack that.

Isn't cynicism bad?  Doesn't it hurt and cause loss of intimacy and trust?

Yes, it can be and it does.  It can be borne of doubt when that doubt is ignored and swept under the rug, or worse, ridiculed.  A doubt that is raised and scorned, or decried as weak faith can bear a crop of cynicism.

Cynicism can be cultivated over an extended period of time if doubts are not shared, or if the individual is not comfortable raising them among their friends or family.  Ignoring the existence of doubts, instead of cultivating and addressing, or even encouraging them can be caustic, especially over time.

Intellectual elitism
Cynicism and intellectual elitism, in particular, can be a response to the anti-intellectualism that is plaguing churches today.  It is part of the religion vs science "debate" and makes a mockery of both, in its misunderstandings of both.  Elitism however, is a poor weapon to fight anti-intellectualism, as it alienates and divides further.

Empathy, dialogue and gentle explication are a far better tool to reach those who feel threatened by "science".  Much of my cynicism and need to be elitist has been curbed by having conversations and dialogue with other Christians about what science is and what it means to me.  The friendship of a Christian in science can often dispel misunderstandings and the belief that the two callings are mutually exclusive.

Of course, dialogue means entering into conversation without expectation of a changed mind/heart/attitude from the other person.  Useful dialogue is often just that--an exchange of ideas that often leads to no change, other than a deeper trust or respect.

Idealism
Idealism is another point of contention that cynics have with the church.  It can be thought of in this way:

“God will never give you more than you can handle.” Some Christians dispense this phrase with such regularity that one would think it comes from Scripture (I think it is actually a distortion of Paul’s words on temptation in 1 Cor. 10:13). The opposite, however, seems to be more biblically true—God at times gives us way more than we can handle in order to drive us into a deeper dependence on him (“. . . we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. . . . But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead”—2 Cor. 1:8-9).

Idealism oozes out of our pulpits in the form of empty platitudes and trite sentimentality. It seeps out of well-meaning lips in hospital rooms and funeral parlors as we stretch for something cheery to say in the face of sickness and death. A great deal of sermon material can only work in safe and sanitized suburbs.

--the Gospel Coalition

It is no wonder that it's hip to be cynical as a pushback to idealism.  Anyone who is honest can see that we don't live in an ideal world.  How often do we pretend that our churches aren't filled with hurting confused people?  We can't hide here either.  Cynicism acknowledges this, but to be useful, it needs to move past it into hope.  Unfortunately, hope is hard.  Hope is hard when there are innocents being killed and raped.  Hope is hard when politics seem like just another vehicle for powerful people to make farcical decisions to advance their careers and names.  Hope is hard.

What now?
Despite the difficulty of hope, I'd rather trade my cynicism for hopeful realism, and embracing the reality of a world and a church that are not ideal.  Because when you're cynical, it's hard to care about solutions.

In case you wonder how dark a journey can be that results in hopeful realism, let me share something that I wrote recently to a friend:

My worry in penning this though is that it is satisfying some dark, human desire to seem realest-of-the-real to those that would read it, and somehow think better of me. For truly, that is what i desperately want. Still and always. This is why grace is difficult and why i distrust myself ever to receive it, because in my heart i know (think) that i don't need it. And I'm terrified that i will always feel this way. Calvinism and evangelicalism and the words of men/friends have no balm for this. I must admit it, i hate (have?) faith. i do not understand it and i do not trust it. i am suspicious of it. Its supposed simplicity and guilelessness seem nearly nefarious. What kind of Christian dares to say or think that? i'm no longer sure. God, this is hard. How does this happen?
...

My conception of faith stems from Hebrews: "Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."  This is problematic, because I find it difficult to be confident in something I'm hoping for.  I guess that's the nature of faith: it must be blind.  I don't know if it's faith that I hate, or if it's the fact that so few Christians have a problem with it.  That, to be a good Christian, you must just be happy about faith, and the deeper your confidence in it the better...it just strikes me as false when I observe blind, unquestioned faith.  I guess it feels like a cop out: "oh, I have faith, therefore I don't have to think about what that means... "Basically what you [my friend] said:

"When people talk about what God is teaching them through doubt, I have never understood that.  Mostly, I wonder how full the glass has to be to tip the scales and "count" as faith."

Yeah! WTF?  I think my problem is excessive cynicism and distrust...that kind of hurts the faith idea too.

 It was a low point for me, but I don't think it's faith that I hate.  Faith is still tough for me, and I hope that at some point it's tough for everyone, because that means you care about getting it right, or at least better.  I still think the answer is Jesus.  It may be a buzzword, but hopeful realism is transforming my cynicism.  Just being able to say that helps.

Jim Wallis says it this way:

Faith enables us to act in hope, despite how things look, and that's what can help make change finally occur and change how things look.

Reading
Is Christian Cynicism a Spiritual Sickness?
Putting Off Cynicism
The Post-Cynical Christian
7 Ways to Stop Being Cynical About Church
Post-Cynical Christianity
On Christian Cynicism
Embracing ‘Hopeful Realism’: Why Cynicism Is a Dead End and Idealism a Farce

The coldest, most delightful wood

Some days after work I just want to read and drink hot apple cider. Yesterday was one of those days. But I'm glad it didn't work out that way. You see, yesterday I got to help my friend usher in a new stage in his life.

It started a week or two ago. He said he'd like help on his engagement and that he'd bought a ring, and it was only a matter of time. I said, "anything!"
That brings us to two days ago, planning for a day later in the week. I would photograph his proposal secretly! Then a day later, in the afternoon, plans change: "can we do this today?"

Engage hyper drive: complete errands on the way home, and pick up lens from a friend with 20 minutes to play around with it. Everything in place finally.

Plans fail immediately, and I lose them on the way there.  Hopefully they don't see me pull in the parking lot.  I stall to make sure I arrive late enough.  Next problem: how do I carry my tripod, camera and the ring box, while xc skiing?  Split-second decision: poles are for the weak.

Let me paint a picture for you.  A tall, gangly, Carhart suit, ski mask wearing man skis along alone clutching a small box, tripod and camera bag.  He hurtles along the trail, up and down hills rather bumpily and without decorum or grace, because he is at least a year out of practice.  Luckily, he meets no one on the trails.

Having reached my destination, I clear snow away to create a small spot out on a bench under a light pole and place the hand-made box down gently, containing a sparkly, shiny diamond ring.

Ninja-mode engage.  I am become the woods.  I am the snowflake that nestles on the logs and leaves and branches.  I am all snowflakes and I am none of them.  Well off the trail, I ditch my skis and settle behind a snow covered, frozen pile of brush.  In between two light-bathed trees lies the snow covered bench of destiny.  My camera and borrowed lens sit atop the tripod, waiting in anxious anticipation.  I take some test footage and admire the beauty that is a lonesome, cold bench in a sea of trees cracking, bending and whining from the cold wind.

I lie in wait for my prey, patting down a bed for myself in the snow.  As they come up the trail, I press record, pray, and lie down, peeking periodically to make sure they're in the frame.

My friend suavely pulls over and begins brushing the snow off the bench making room for his beloved.  They sit, an awkward task with skis and she notices the box.  BAM! I lie in silence, listening to the wind and the trees and the snow crunching.  There is cold, and there is bliss--I don't notice the cold.

Adorable engagement shenanigans occur, and eventually they call to me.  The jig is up, I am discovered, and I greet the exultant couple.  Much later, I treat myself to hot apple cider and a book--Schrödinger's Cake?

Bri

There are many words that I can use to describe a relationship I've had for over 80% of my life. The picture above does a very good job though, without uttering a syllable.

Two boys sit in kayaks under a bluebird sky in the chill August waters of Lake Huron. One is yellow, bright as a banana and similar in shape. The other is bathed in blue, green and yellow, fading twice in a continuum of color.

We constructed sails from a dutch golf set and broom with garbage bags. Matching the creativity in games imagined and played over the years is the competitiveness with which we play them. It's funny how important it becomes to win a game that was conceived of mere seconds ago, but it's been foundational to our friendship over the years. I used to get truly mad at him in middle school.

Never content to just make something, we use our new "sailboats" for sport. Paddling out past the breakers, we align our vessels for shore and pick a large rock as the finish line. The no-paddle rule is in effect as we let the wind carry us and cleverly "steer" with our paddles to arrive on shore first. We're more pushed by the waves than any effect the wind may have had, but it's a clear and definitive victory for one of us. Our sailing prowess is unmatched by the other and to the victor belong the spoils. And the next day comes with seven more invented games with seven more victors. [Note to the reader: the last two sentences are best read dripping in sarcasm.]

As we've grown older our competitive streaks have subsided...somewhat. They'll never be gone completely though, as board games continue to show. I can't stay mad long though. Since we're still friends I presume the same goes for Brü.

Every time we get back together, after being separated by hundreds of miles and hours of interstate, we can pick up right where we left off from. Just writing this makes me yearn to mosey back to Hudsonville and sit in a basement to play games with Brian, Scott and Jeff. Ah well, you can't always get what you want.

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Emerson in His Journals

Those who ride pandas

For those who ride pandas to battle,
harness something fierce 'neath the saddle.
The black and the white,
they cause such a fright.
Because sometimes you need to kick a pack of wolves to death.

Only seeming to live on bamboo,
whose G.I. tracts are talented: poo.
They might be a blight,
people flee on sight.
Because pandas will knife you to death if you're not careful.

A general once said to his captains,
"A panda did make me these napkins."
His stitches were tight;
they came out just right.
But it turns out that now he just sells refrigerators.

But this poem doesn't make any sense,
pandas aren't even very intense.
Don't bring them to fight,
just buy them a kite.
But they can totally only barely throw a frisbee.

Inspiration credit to Luc LaFreniere

Set to music

0.6 Yparticles

A mole once emerged from her hole.

She rolled out to go on the dole.

Though fat as a slug, she outweighed the bug,

and never got any money from the government.

German reggae: Seeed

I've listened to a few of the songs off Seeed's most recent album, but finally came across this gem a few days ago, a full year after its release. Augenbling. The song jumped into my bones the first time I heard it and I had to immediately buy a physical copy of the music! Gotta support those that make the good stuff :)
I'll be bumping to work with Seeed for the foreseeable future.

It took but a day or so to notice that there is also an English version called "Blink blink". I was pretty impressed to hear how fluid the lyrics are in both versions. The French singer/rapper from Niger, Féfé, is featured on the English version.

Long story short: Seeed is bringing reggae/dancehall to the next level. To be fair, I don't know enough about reggae/dancehall to know what the current level is...but I'm fairly sure this is a paradigm shift.

The English version for those interested:

Sloats and Frains: Genesis

I wake up in my one room apartment with the sun drenching my face, prying my eyelids open. Yesterday was a whirlwind of miles in cars and planes, across timezones and an ocean.

My supervisor, Dr. Heckmann, came by in the evening to make sure that I had arrived and was settled. We went for a bit of a walk, and found a payphone for me to call my family and reassure myself with their voices. I went to sleep feeling more comfortable with the unknown...now that it was a little more known. And Nutella. They bought me some food for the weekend, giving me my first experience with the rich, creamy, chocolatey, smooth Haselnuss perfection that is Nutella. In fact, supper on jam and Nutella sandwiches was not uncommon...

The morning was warm, bright and sunshiny. I leave the apartment a few minutes after 9, to do some of the exploring I had been too tired for the night before. I walk along a stream, over a bridge, along a meadow bursting with yellow wildflowers and past some barns. The path goes over the road into town and is paved with cobblestones, trimmed with cement. The Selz burbles along joyfully before breaking from the path that opens into green, scrubby fields mottled with fluffy, sheepy shapes. The picturesque path will later accompany me on many a run during warm summer nights to Groß-Winternheim and back.

As I walk back into town, St. Remigius' bell tower rings loud and bold, imploring, beseeching and celebrating with parishioners arriving for Pfingsten Mass. The bright, cheery mood fills me too, as I begin to decompress from the terror of exams and the immediacy and rush of a good friend's wedding just days before. There is no rush here. We are on holiday, and I am becoming part of this quiet town, if only for the summer. I glory in my status as local-wannabe.

Song writing/recording

I've been putting together a recording for a little ditty about camping in Mackinaw during years past, that I composed during last summer and fall. I put it together on the ukulele and have the chords figured out as well as most of the lyrics. Some of them need a little polishing and fixing of course. I have the piano chords and inversions figured out and in the computer, so it's just a matter of making sure that I like the tempo, and how the chord progressions sound. I'm getting pretty excited about this "UntitledMackinac" project.

In the last couple days I've also decided to work on a little hiphop/rap project too. Last fall my friend Jenny received a ridiculous voicemail from her dad, caused by a butt dial. The text was pretty funny to read, so I want to set it to a sick (hopefully) beat that I've been working on, and record it as a short rap. I love working on both projects, and I'm ready to be underwhelmed by what I produce...but hey, I've got to start somewhere. It's just hard to find the time to work on them. School is a black hole :)

I received a Behringer UMX-610" midi controller for my birthday, which has been helping, and I've been putting the tracks together using LMMS, the Linux MultiMedia Studio. I may move to a different product in the future, but for now, I'm pretty happy with this setup.

Snark

Photo credit: Mural (Banksy); Aardvark (travelnewsnamibia); Bird on a branch (Dawn Smith); Stars (bitácora de Galileo).
In the dark park sat a lark upon the bark.

Its shadow marked stark against the luminous pockmarked bulwark.

"Hark" remarked the aardvark matriarch set to embark.

"Join me Plutarch, in my arc to the celestial monarch."

Hughes park

Arch linux

I've had to troubleshoot computer issues at work from time to time, and any time I can't handle it I call upon a linux power user who works for our IT guy. He's helped me with installs gone wrong (openSUSE) and when an update resulted in GRUB unable to find the partition table. Now I'm on a Fedora system which should be more stable and has the same libraries and available repositories that I needed. It's also the distribution that the developer of the software I use recommends (I had no experience with it though, thus openSUSE). In any case, we were talking shop about different distributions that we've used, while he was fixing my problems, and he mentioned Arch linux, which piqued my interest.

It's a simple and lightweight distribution (their words) that really teaches you how linux systems/installs work. You need to mount the drives yourself and install the base system, bootloader, users, network and anything else you may want (really useful Life Hacker guide here). One of the best things is that it updates on a rolling release model which is continually upgraded, instead of upgraded by reinstalling for every version.

The first install didn't go well, because I didn't understand exactly how the mounting and base install went. However, the second time through I managed to mount the correct partitions and write the files I needed to the spots that needed them. It was slightly trickier since I'm dual booting with Windows 7 and was installing from a USB key, but I made it work. I also had some issues getting Xorg to work (installed the wrong drivers), but the second time was the charm (Intel drivers). After that it was basically just a matter of installing some fonts and choosing LXDE as my desktop environment.

Eventually my goal is to use this box as an FTP server and be rid of the windows partition completely. I need it for MSPowerPoint in the mean time, so until I can figure out a stable way to display slides I have to keep it. I've been trying to use Wine to install MSPowerPointViewer, but haven't had much success with it yet (guide). It's still very much a work in progress and I'm planning on reformatting the linux partitions I made and trying it again from scratch to get it right the first time.

I'm also still trying to get the hang of the Arch User Repositories for installing things like Packer.

Blast from the CCM past

I stumbled upon a song by the O.C. Supertones from 1999 that I used to listen to on repeat. The song is from their album Chase the Sun.
Nothing catchier than Christian Ska...

Constantly moving...comes to a halt

My roommates and I just completed one of the last parts of our move last night: arranging the kitchen!

It brings to a near-end the saga which began roughly two weeks ago. Our lease ended on July 27 (Saturday), but the new one didn't begin until August 1 (Thursday)...leaving us with no place of our own for a few days.

My dear brother sent me the most uplifting text at the news:

Haha so you're homeless. bummer

Yes, we were homeless. But not to fear, for our new roommate was the fortuitous renter of a townhouse in the same complex we lived in and happened to have a roommate recently vacate.

• Stage 1: Move everything from our place in boxes and other such packing shenanigans, to the empty room on Thursday and Friday nights and cram as much furniture as possible into the interstices while still keeping his place livable for his remaining roommate...mostly successful.


• Stage 2: Apartment preparation and waiting period. We managed to schedule our required carpet cleaning for the morning of the last day we were on the lease, not noticing that we were required to be out and have keys turned over by 10am that day.
  
  After a last minute scramble, we got an extension from our complex until 4pm (latest possible) and had the carpet cleaned just in time. Other things cleaned at the last minute: oven (probably burned out my lungs with the lye in the cleaner and a too-hot oven), fridge, upstairs bathroom, downstairs bathroom (remembered at 3:40pm) and range. We turned in the keys at 3:59pm.
  
  Anything we get back on our deposit will be icing on the cake at this point, since we took the lease over after a few years of damage from the previous tenants (fridge was oil-orange, cabinet doors perpetually greasy etc.) and they left us the deposit money.


• Stage 3: The second move began on August 1, after work. We rented a truck for a few hours, which I had overly much fun driving. It took us just two trips:
  1. large furniture
  2. boxes, boxes, boxes
  with some great help from our new roommate's former roommate.
  
  The lion's share of the move was over at this point, with all of our stuff in the new location (sans a few boxes).

Since then it's been the slow process of clearing floors and re-arranging. My own room was mostly done last Saturday (day following the mass move), and Nate and I had a good start on the kitchen as well.

This brings us to last night (Wednesday, 6 days post move) with the last phase of cabinet filling and utensil placing, mentioned at the start of the post...I'm just so glad it's over and that I can rest when I get home.