Scripture: John 13:20-31; Isaiah 50:4-9 and Hebrews 12: 1-3
Lent it hard.
Truth be told, I’ve spent this year and last year avoiding Lent. Last year I experienced so much grief and sadness, (mostly the pain experienced by people around me) that killing God too seemed like it just might do me in. This year things are going well, I’m happy, I’m working hard, life is good… so I don’t want to enter into darkness for fear it will overpower the light and I won’t re-emerge again. I fear this because once you’ve seen the darkness… the “darkness that can be felt” like Exodus 10:21 describes, you know it’s danger. The dark is always dangerous which is I suppose why Paul admonishes us to walk in the light…
And yet Lent, and specifically holy week, is designed to take us into the darkness. Into the depths of despair. Intentionally.
Some churches get real kicks out of darkness, specifically if it includes the gnashing of teeth. Hellfire and damnation is meant to scare the evil out of you. Unfortunately the sin they’re often trying to eradicate is drinkin’ beer, playing cards and going dancing on Saturday nights. And as if the threat of hell wasn’t bad enough such communities specialize in guilt, fear and self-loathing, and making this life a living hell too.
Fortunately I don’t ascribe to such theology.
Unfortunately, because I do embrace a theology of hope and grace, when my religious community does ask me to enter with them into intentional darkness, it can be even more terrifying than hellfire and brimstone. You see, it’s not the gnashing of teeth I’m afraid of… it’s myself.
Those other religions portray God as a wrathful, vengeful God. A “hater” as my teenage friends might say. But I don’t think an angry, spiteful God would come to earth, impoverish himself and then allow his enemies and even his friends to nail him to a cross or submit himself to a tortuous death. If God’s in the game of winning at all costs and gloating in the process, those were the wrong cards to play.
But this isn’t a game. This isn’t about who gets in and who doesn’t. Who manages to please rather than piss off the Holy One.
It’s a relationship.
Ched Myers writes “Reconciliation is not something accomplished by Christ for God, nor inflicted on Christ by God, but forged by God through Christ. This wreaks havoc on the medieval (but still widespread) doctrine that Christ's death functions to placate an angry or offended deity. Rather, the ‘crucified God’ represents a fundamentally restorative initiative by the Divine victim towards the human offender.”
This is about God who became a man… and that man wants a living relationship with the men and women and children of this world.
While the passage we read today in John describes Judas as dipping his hand in the common cup and being called out by Christ as one who will deny him, as Roger noted on Sunday, in the Mark passage no one is named and thus all the disciples in the story are indicted as falling short, as denying Christ. We know what happens to Peter. We know about Thomas’ doubts. And so Roger concluded, like the disciples, we’ve all had our hand in the goblet of blood, on the plate on bread and we’re all now sitting in darkness asking, “Is it I Lord… Jesus? Is it I?”
And the answer is yes. Yes it is you. Yes, you are Judas who sells Christ to the highest bidder every time you gripe about paying your taxes or choose comfort over charity or a business promotion over your family or a raise to the detriment of your employee’s health benefits. Every time you render to Caesar what is God’s the answer to “Is it I” is yes.
Yes it is you, Peter, denying Christ three times before the crack of dawn. Every time you check the “spiritual but not religious” for fear of being misunderstood as a Christian. Every time you fail to stand up for Christ’s principles in the business room or decline to defend Christianity when the media portrays it as a war-loving, gay-hating circus. Every time the government tries to put our ancient Genesis text into the public classroom instead of into the hands of religious communities we are Peter, and we say, nah, it isn’t ours. You can have it. I don’t belong to him. We say it all the time with our silence and with our vehement admissions. And then the cock crows.
Yes it is you, Thomas who refuses to believe until you’re proven wrong. Yes it is you every time you write off the miracles of God as folklore. Every time you dismiss the Bible as myth. Every time you choose the easy way out instead of the hard work of learning from God and the people around you, you are doubting Thomas. Every time you vote no to the church budget that’s too big, lose hope because the building that needs so much work, turn away from the person who’s screwed up too many times. Every time you need proof of change, you dip your hand in the cup.
Yes, it is you. And yes it is me. And yes, it is all of us.
All of us. They’re all around us, Hebrews says. All the saints who were also the Judases and Peters and Thomases and thieves and Pharisees and Politicians… they’re all around us. All these faithful and not always faithful men and women of the Bible, men and women from our history books, people we looked up to… they made mistakes too. They too ate of the bread and drank of the wine and ended up denying Christ. The saints are always the sinners which is what makes God so good. God died so humanity could experience reconciliation, resurrection. The tricky part is always coming to peace with the fact that peace on Christ does not always mean peaceful living. Suffering and pain and challenges will always be with us… just as they were with our forefathers and mothers: the Martin Luthers, the Martin Luther Kings, the Mother Theresas, the Lottie Moons, the Volma Overtons and the Glenn McLaughlins… and when you feel the darkness of holy week, when you feel the suffering and the abandonment of the cross take heart… the saints are all around us!
And take heart because they too raised their hand and asked, Is it I, Lord?
And the answer was yes for them too.
In Isaiah we read about perseverance of the faithful. Perseverance is a gift from God given to all believers even and because they have had their hand in the common cup…
The Lord GOD has given Me the tongue of disciples,
That I may know how to sustain the weary one with a word
I love that line. And I can list, just as you did earlier in the service, the saints that God has put in my life to help me through the most difficult of times. They too sustain me with a word.
You have to go through Lent to get to Easter. Good Friday dies before Sunday raises. You have to enter the darkness to end up in the light. We all do.
But don’t be afraid! So many have gone before you and truly they are all around you too! Look up, Rafiki tells Simba in the children’s movie, The Lion King. See all those stars? Those are all the kings who have gone before you and are with you now. What beautiful imagery. We too have our cloud of witnesses, so take heart!
No more giving up! Go into the darkness, but don’t give up. Turn around. Turn around. See the darkness, feel it even. Repent and drink of the cup again, taste the bread again and start walking toward the light. Resurrection is coming. Hope is just around the corner! Four more days my friends, four more days! And while I can’t put an hour or date for when you will escape from the darkness in your life, I promise, healing IS coming. It is coming. It is right around the corner and though you may feel scared or abandoned or guilty, nail those feelings to the cross of Good Friday and they will go down with you and on Easter morning you will be raised to new life in Christ. Healing has already arrived. Not in a bloody cross, an angry God, a wimpy prophet, but in an empty tomb, a living body, a forgiven community. Peter and Thomas and Mary and Paul went before us… Saint Augustine went before us… Annie Armstrong went before us… Jerry Keesee went before us… but they are with us still, cheering us on to Easter.
You are not alone, my friends. You are not alone.
But you are forgiven, accompanied by Christ and the great cloud of witnesses and together we will stand one day before the throne of God and hold out our wine-stained hands and our crumb-dirtied fingers and Christ will say, thank God you drank of my cup and ate of my plate. Well done, my good and faithful servants. And welcome home.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
My Friends Are Famous
Artist, Aaron Sacco is featured in this article about his new work that you've probably seen on TV. Check out his blog of art here. Congrats, Ren!
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Reinventing Dating.
13 men. I've been on 15 dates with 13 different men over the past month or two. Once I even had three dates in one day.
That's not as much in person as it is on paper.
And that's not counting all the ones I've been "chatting" with in "open communication" or all the blasted questions I've answered getting to said open communication.
See, my "good friend," Mel, signed me up for eHarmony one night when we were watching Sex in the City and I was complaining about men.
"Here Ann, I've got you started. Here's your username and password and now you just need to finish answering the questions. I've gotten as far as I can..."
I grimaced and glared at her.
But since she's getting married and I'm not, I thought well, perhaps she knows what she's doing so I started answering the questions.
Pick three adjectives your friends would use to describe you.
Are you ever attracted to people of the same sex?
Choose the best word to describe how you communicate when you're angry...
I throw the computer on the ground and curse my friend for signing me up for an online dating program?
No, I guess not. So AN HOUR AND A HALF later I'd finally answered all those dang questions and I'll be damned if eHarmony didn't accept me. "Here are your new matches," they wrote me and four men popped up on the screen.
"Well, one little look can't hurt..."
$120, fifteen dates and thirteen men later, I'm in dating heaven... or hell... I'm not sure which.
But I've eaten lobster at Eddie V's, met a man who called Obama a communist even before the media picked up on it, eaten kosher with a Greek Orthodox Christian, corresponded with a guy who turned out to be in IRAQ (he sort of lied about his location), drank with a man who knows my therapist, and kissed a boy named after the pope.
What?!
I know. I don't know what to say for myself.
Except that we're playing by my rules now. My rules. Who knew that dating was a decision I got to be a part of? I write that half-jokingly. But if you knew my dating history you'd agree.
My sister the doctor calls it "the bomb." Every time I call to tell her about some new guy I'm dating, she waits for it. She wait's for the bomb to drop.
"He's 48." The bomb.
"He's 19." The bomb.
"He lives in Morocco." The bomb.
"He's a recovering alcoholic." The bomb.
"He's a republican." The bomb.
You get the picture.
I mean, I'm a girl. I've suffered from the "savior" complex syndrome, been through the "money doesn't matter" phase, and run the gauntlet of "he's the male-me" all the way to "opposites attract." From the actor to the jock to the lawyer to the starving musician.
And you know what I discovered? It's all about me.
This is my life.
I get to choose.
It's okay for me to want to date a man who has health insurance. That's not an unreasonable standard. Neither is it unreasonable for me to want to date someone with a job. And if he's got too much money, that's okay too. I can say good-bye to too much money if it makes me uncomfortable. And it's alright for me to want to date a man who's capable of wrestling with his demons in therapy rather than in the bottom of a bottle or a bong. And I should expect my boyfriends not to fall for my sister, that's not too much to ask. And I can set the standard of no lying, no cheating and for god's sake no talking to your ex-girlfriend.
I can choose those things. I don't have to settle fo what comes to me nor do I have to set my standards higher. I can want what I want. And if I get what I want, I'm one lucky girl.
A friend told me the other night that when you meet the right person you should feel like you're the luckiest person on the planet. That's pretty good. I want to feel lucky... lucky that I get to be the recipient of someone's love and lucky that I get to love them back.
And then comes the compromise and the challenges and the giving and receiving... but that's all good too cause you're the luckiest girl in the world, remember?
So thanks Mel, for making me finish the questions. And thanks to my girlfriends for setting me up with your friends (they weren't all online). And thanks Brandon, Brad, Padaric, Imad, Jeremy, Charlie, Terry, Travis, Paul, Ryan, Rowland, Aaron and Dominic. I'm having a lot of fun. Even if I "closed" some of you cause you're weird.
And one of these days I just might get lucky. And you know what? Some man might just get me...
That's not as much in person as it is on paper.
And that's not counting all the ones I've been "chatting" with in "open communication" or all the blasted questions I've answered getting to said open communication.
See, my "good friend," Mel, signed me up for eHarmony one night when we were watching Sex in the City and I was complaining about men.
"Here Ann, I've got you started. Here's your username and password and now you just need to finish answering the questions. I've gotten as far as I can..."
I grimaced and glared at her.
But since she's getting married and I'm not, I thought well, perhaps she knows what she's doing so I started answering the questions.
Pick three adjectives your friends would use to describe you.
Are you ever attracted to people of the same sex?
Choose the best word to describe how you communicate when you're angry...
I throw the computer on the ground and curse my friend for signing me up for an online dating program?
No, I guess not. So AN HOUR AND A HALF later I'd finally answered all those dang questions and I'll be damned if eHarmony didn't accept me. "Here are your new matches," they wrote me and four men popped up on the screen.
"Well, one little look can't hurt..."
$120, fifteen dates and thirteen men later, I'm in dating heaven... or hell... I'm not sure which.
But I've eaten lobster at Eddie V's, met a man who called Obama a communist even before the media picked up on it, eaten kosher with a Greek Orthodox Christian, corresponded with a guy who turned out to be in IRAQ (he sort of lied about his location), drank with a man who knows my therapist, and kissed a boy named after the pope.
What?!
I know. I don't know what to say for myself.
Except that we're playing by my rules now. My rules. Who knew that dating was a decision I got to be a part of? I write that half-jokingly. But if you knew my dating history you'd agree.
My sister the doctor calls it "the bomb." Every time I call to tell her about some new guy I'm dating, she waits for it. She wait's for the bomb to drop.
"He's 48." The bomb.
"He's 19." The bomb.
"He lives in Morocco." The bomb.
"He's a recovering alcoholic." The bomb.
"He's a republican." The bomb.
You get the picture.
I mean, I'm a girl. I've suffered from the "savior" complex syndrome, been through the "money doesn't matter" phase, and run the gauntlet of "he's the male-me" all the way to "opposites attract." From the actor to the jock to the lawyer to the starving musician.
And you know what I discovered? It's all about me.
This is my life.
I get to choose.
It's okay for me to want to date a man who has health insurance. That's not an unreasonable standard. Neither is it unreasonable for me to want to date someone with a job. And if he's got too much money, that's okay too. I can say good-bye to too much money if it makes me uncomfortable. And it's alright for me to want to date a man who's capable of wrestling with his demons in therapy rather than in the bottom of a bottle or a bong. And I should expect my boyfriends not to fall for my sister, that's not too much to ask. And I can set the standard of no lying, no cheating and for god's sake no talking to your ex-girlfriend.
I can choose those things. I don't have to settle fo what comes to me nor do I have to set my standards higher. I can want what I want. And if I get what I want, I'm one lucky girl.
A friend told me the other night that when you meet the right person you should feel like you're the luckiest person on the planet. That's pretty good. I want to feel lucky... lucky that I get to be the recipient of someone's love and lucky that I get to love them back.
And then comes the compromise and the challenges and the giving and receiving... but that's all good too cause you're the luckiest girl in the world, remember?
So thanks Mel, for making me finish the questions. And thanks to my girlfriends for setting me up with your friends (they weren't all online). And thanks Brandon, Brad, Padaric, Imad, Jeremy, Charlie, Terry, Travis, Paul, Ryan, Rowland, Aaron and Dominic. I'm having a lot of fun. Even if I "closed" some of you cause you're weird.
And one of these days I just might get lucky. And you know what? Some man might just get me...
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
What I've Done (in bold)
Another survey-ish sort of thing. But, how well do you know me?... (If i've done it, it's starred and in bold).
*1. Started your own blog
*2. Slept under the stars
*3. Played in a band.
*4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
*6. Given more than you can afford to charity
*7. Been to Disneyland/world
*8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
*10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
*12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
*16. Had food poisoning
*17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
*20. Slept on an overnight train
*21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
*24. Built a snow fort
*25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
*29. Seen a total eclipse (of the heart? j/k)
*30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
*35. Seen an Amish community
*37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (yes, but that doesn't mean I don't still want a pool in my backyard)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
*39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
*41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
*44. Visited Africa
*45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
*46. Been transported in an ambulance
*47. Had your portrait painted (i used to model for a figure drawing class)
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
*51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
*52. Kissed in the rain
*53. Played in the mud
*54. Gone to a drive-in theater
*55. Been in a movie (technically)
*56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
*60. Served at a soup kitchen
*61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
*63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
*67. Bounced a check
*68. Flown in a helicopter
*69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
*70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
*71. Eaten Caviar (ew!)
*72. Pieced a quilt (with my grandma!)
*73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
*77. Broken a bone
*78. Been on a speeding motorcycle (and i've seen the musical!)
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (please, someday...)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
*83. Walked in Jerusalem
*84. Had your picture in the newspaper
*85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (sick.)
*88. Had chickenpox
*89. Saved someone’s life (depends on how you look at it...)
90. Sat on a jury
*91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
*93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
*95. Seen the Alamo in person
*96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake (Does the Dead Sea count?)
*97. Been involved in a law suit
*98. Owned a cell phone
*99. Been stung by a bee
*1. Started your own blog
*2. Slept under the stars
*3. Played in a band.
*4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
*6. Given more than you can afford to charity
*7. Been to Disneyland/world
*8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
*10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
*12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
*16. Had food poisoning
*17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
*20. Slept on an overnight train
*21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
*24. Built a snow fort
*25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
*29. Seen a total eclipse (of the heart? j/k)
*30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
*35. Seen an Amish community
*37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (yes, but that doesn't mean I don't still want a pool in my backyard)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
*39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
*41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
*44. Visited Africa
*45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
*46. Been transported in an ambulance
*47. Had your portrait painted (i used to model for a figure drawing class)
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
*51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
*52. Kissed in the rain
*53. Played in the mud
*54. Gone to a drive-in theater
*55. Been in a movie (technically)
*56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
*60. Served at a soup kitchen
*61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
*63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
*67. Bounced a check
*68. Flown in a helicopter
*69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
*70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
*71. Eaten Caviar (ew!)
*72. Pieced a quilt (with my grandma!)
*73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
*77. Broken a bone
*78. Been on a speeding motorcycle (and i've seen the musical!)
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (please, someday...)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
*83. Walked in Jerusalem
*84. Had your picture in the newspaper
*85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (sick.)
*88. Had chickenpox
*89. Saved someone’s life (depends on how you look at it...)
90. Sat on a jury
*91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
*93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
*95. Seen the Alamo in person
*96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake (Does the Dead Sea count?)
*97. Been involved in a law suit
*98. Owned a cell phone
*99. Been stung by a bee
a poem for the world alone
Listen, I shouldn't tell a lie;
i've been drinking.
and I've a sudden urge to remove all the space from my sentences.
butIshan't.
So let's talk...
on the phone, on FB on Skype;
whatever brings me close to you.
Yeah, we've not known each other a long while,
but isn't it fun to explore the unknown?
or at least seek to be known
a little bit
In a world that isn't "a little bit" of anything
but rather bigger than any of us should imagine
evenifitisasmallworldafterall.
Cuz sometimes it isn't.
so you have to write sentenceswithoutspaces;
intimacy is essential to life
in a world this big.
Thisbig.
don't lie about the world.
it will find you out,
and expose you as alone.
Andthenyouwillbe
like me.
not alone, but seeking to be known.
I'llhaveanotherdrinkplease.
i've been drinking.
and I've a sudden urge to remove all the space from my sentences.
butIshan't.
So let's talk...
on the phone, on FB on Skype;
whatever brings me close to you.
Yeah, we've not known each other a long while,
but isn't it fun to explore the unknown?
or at least seek to be known
a little bit
In a world that isn't "a little bit" of anything
but rather bigger than any of us should imagine
evenifitisasmallworldafterall.
Cuz sometimes it isn't.
so you have to write sentenceswithoutspaces;
intimacy is essential to life
in a world this big.
Thisbig.
don't lie about the world.
it will find you out,
and expose you as alone.
Andthenyouwillbe
like me.
not alone, but seeking to be known.
I'llhaveanotherdrinkplease.
This Poem Rocks My Socks...
One Art
Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers and a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
thought it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers and a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
thought it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Changing the World
Friday, March 20, 2009
Stupid Musician
Dear Rock Stars,
Just because you're in a band and playing in Austin at SXSW doesn't mean you get to do this.
Lord.
Just because you're in a band and playing in Austin at SXSW doesn't mean you get to do this.
Lord.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Dead (or maybe not) Wrong
This is a big whoopsy... the guys gave a deathbed confession... and then didn't die.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
My Milkshake Brings All the Boys To the Yard
I hate that song.
Most of my blog readers know that i work with college students. These students constantly harass me and beg me for things like kalaches in sunday school and sufjan stevens in worship and occasionally an FBC sponsored trip to the beach. Sometimes I comply, sometimes I do not.
So for probably four or five months now, they've been nagging me to have a slumber party at my house. Don't ask me why. But I finally caved. Last week I agreed to a Tuesday Night Slumber Party Chez Moi. My roommate would be out of town so there'd be no one to wake up and annoy, plus several of my away students were back in town on spring break and my austin students hadn't let yet for theirs so it seemed like an okay time. My week wasn't too busy, my energy was good. And after making the boys promise to come work in my yard this spring, the deal was made.
My beloved students showed up with sleeping bags in hand at 9pm. We played cards, watched a movie, laughed, pet the pets, ate food and then when the hands on my electric clock bleeped 12am my students screamed, "Midnight Milkshakes!"
Oh god.
Apparently they have a ritual where if they are all hanging out together and midnight arrives they all pile into one car and go to Whataburger to get milkshakes.
Fine.
So I went to wake up Meredith who was asleep in the back bedroom (she's allergic to cats and we had to drug her to keep her alive) who made me promise to wake her if we did anything fun. I put my shoes on and rummaged for my wallet while the others hollered from the kitchen that the event was called Midnight Milkshakes, not 12:26am Milkshakes.
Okay, okay.
We piled into Bryan's car and headed to Whataburger which to my bewilderment was still open.
"Don't you see the 24 Hours underneath the sign? Geez, Ann. Pay attention sometime."
I know, I am so uncool.
So we're in line and I'm enthralled that people are actually eating greasy, gross food at this hour on a Tuesday night (or morning I should say) when one of them says, "watch your mouth Ann, there's a man over there" and we all turn to see who I could have offended with my disparaging Whataburger remarks.
"My Lord that man's pants are low," I begin to say, "I know that's the style but..." I trailed off, for at that moment we realized simultaneously that the man's pants weren't low. Rather, he was emerging from a black-tinted-window vehicle in his boxers and he was actually pulling his pants up.
I gasp.
They gasp.
I would make a "that's what she said" joke but it was so horrifyingly real to us all at that moment that it just seems profane.
They begin to giggle.
The man gets into the next car over and both cars pull away going their separate ways.
I am mortified. "You see? THIS is why I don't go out in my neighborhood at 12:30 in the morning!" I yell at my students.
"That just happened... in a Whataburger parking lot," one of them responds.
O God.
We sit in silence until we pull up to the window. Those damn milkshakes and malts could not come fast enough. I paid the bored cashier who obviously had no idea the fun being had in his parking lot, and we drove away.
"Tell no one," I instructed and they giggled again.
What happens at Whataburger stays at Whataburger... and I will never participate in Midnight Milkshakes again.
Most of my blog readers know that i work with college students. These students constantly harass me and beg me for things like kalaches in sunday school and sufjan stevens in worship and occasionally an FBC sponsored trip to the beach. Sometimes I comply, sometimes I do not.
So for probably four or five months now, they've been nagging me to have a slumber party at my house. Don't ask me why. But I finally caved. Last week I agreed to a Tuesday Night Slumber Party Chez Moi. My roommate would be out of town so there'd be no one to wake up and annoy, plus several of my away students were back in town on spring break and my austin students hadn't let yet for theirs so it seemed like an okay time. My week wasn't too busy, my energy was good. And after making the boys promise to come work in my yard this spring, the deal was made.
My beloved students showed up with sleeping bags in hand at 9pm. We played cards, watched a movie, laughed, pet the pets, ate food and then when the hands on my electric clock bleeped 12am my students screamed, "Midnight Milkshakes!"
Oh god.
Apparently they have a ritual where if they are all hanging out together and midnight arrives they all pile into one car and go to Whataburger to get milkshakes.
Fine.
So I went to wake up Meredith who was asleep in the back bedroom (she's allergic to cats and we had to drug her to keep her alive) who made me promise to wake her if we did anything fun. I put my shoes on and rummaged for my wallet while the others hollered from the kitchen that the event was called Midnight Milkshakes, not 12:26am Milkshakes.
Okay, okay.
We piled into Bryan's car and headed to Whataburger which to my bewilderment was still open.
"Don't you see the 24 Hours underneath the sign? Geez, Ann. Pay attention sometime."
I know, I am so uncool.
So we're in line and I'm enthralled that people are actually eating greasy, gross food at this hour on a Tuesday night (or morning I should say) when one of them says, "watch your mouth Ann, there's a man over there" and we all turn to see who I could have offended with my disparaging Whataburger remarks.
"My Lord that man's pants are low," I begin to say, "I know that's the style but..." I trailed off, for at that moment we realized simultaneously that the man's pants weren't low. Rather, he was emerging from a black-tinted-window vehicle in his boxers and he was actually pulling his pants up.
I gasp.
They gasp.
I would make a "that's what she said" joke but it was so horrifyingly real to us all at that moment that it just seems profane.
They begin to giggle.
The man gets into the next car over and both cars pull away going their separate ways.
I am mortified. "You see? THIS is why I don't go out in my neighborhood at 12:30 in the morning!" I yell at my students.
"That just happened... in a Whataburger parking lot," one of them responds.
O God.
We sit in silence until we pull up to the window. Those damn milkshakes and malts could not come fast enough. I paid the bored cashier who obviously had no idea the fun being had in his parking lot, and we drove away.
"Tell no one," I instructed and they giggled again.
What happens at Whataburger stays at Whataburger... and I will never participate in Midnight Milkshakes again.
Friday, March 13, 2009
A Lenten Sermon: What Got Jesus Killed
Sermon Text: John 2:12-27
What got Jesus killed? We’re spending six weeks as a church, alongside all other Protestant and Catholic churches and a week ahead of the Greek Orthodox churches preparing for Jesus’ death and resurrection. Six weeks studying Jesus’ death on a cross. Six weeks preparing for Jesus’ resurrection from the tomb.
And in putting ashes on our head and declaring together as a community that indeed, we are all equally depraved and equally sinful in the eyes of God, we say, "from ashes we have come and to ashes we will return." In doing this we acknowledge that we are not worthy. And yet on Easter Sunday, resurrection Sunday, we will discover that God chooses to resurrect us anyway. For six weeks many of us deprive ourselves of a vice or pleasure and focus on our relationship with God. We pray, we repent, we suffer if only a smidgen, because Christ suffered first.
But Why?
Not why do we spend time doing this – the value of admitting we sin and turning from it and to Christ is undeniable by even the most secular cynics. My question is why did Jesus suffer? Why did Jesus die?
Unfortunately, I may never get the answer to that question. Oh there’s lots of theological reasons like that swell little drawing you do on a piece of paper where God is on one side of the page and You are on the other and you need a road to get to God so in the middle of the paper connecting You to God, a cross gets drawn because Jesus is the link between You and God.
Great. We’ve officially reduced the infinite and holy God to a stick drawing. Lovely.
I don’t understand that reasoning quite frankly. And I certainly don’t like the idea of a God dying in order to save me. I mean, God’s God. Why death? A bloody, grueling death? Why not just snap your fingers and get us all to be with you. That’s possible, right?
But that’s not what happened. So perhaps I may get a glimpse of the Why if we return to our sacred text, to the story that is told there. We’ll begin in John 2.
In John, as in the other three gospels, Jesus visits the Temple and upon seeing the men selling the animals for sacrifice and god only knows what else and making a profit of it right there, right next to the holy of holies, Jesus flips. He freaks out and in John we get the real details. He turns over the tables, his face turns red, his muscles bulge, he turns green…
Okay, I’m embellishing. But I loved the Incredible Hulk as a kid. And did you see The Rock play Ba-ROCK Obama on Saturday Night Live last week? Hilarious. And so I picture Jesus getting mad like that. I mean no where else does he trash a joint. When the prostitute is brought before him, he uses a tricky mind game to teach the perpetrators a lesson, then he draws in the sand. He doesn’t start throwing rocks or sand at them, hollering at them for their hypocrisy.
But in the Temple, he does. And therein lies what scholars consider to be the real reason Jesus got hung on a cross. It wasn’t that he was nice to outcasts, or cast demons out of people or made fun of the Pharisees. It was this… it was what he communicated to the religious leaders in the Temple that day.
According to Charles Talbert, a Johannine Scholar, what Jesus does in the Temple is render sacrifice IMPOSSIBLE. The money-changers changed money into shekels. Shekels buy the birds and the bulls. And without the birds, there’s no daily sacrifice for sin. And if there’s no sacrifice, then how can the people be made right in the eyes of God?
What Jesus does in the Temple is similar to what happens in the book of Matthew when Jesus is on the cross, “Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split.”
Jesus essentially says, there is no more need for sacrifice because he has come. There is no need to submit yourself to ritualistic cleansing because one has come who has made you clean. There is no need to go to a high priest for a blessing and affirmation, there is one whom you may go to yourself. The curtain is torn, there is no distinction between priest and peasant, no hierarchy to get to God. Jesus and the Father are one and both are accessible. There is no need for sacrifice to appease God or cleanse yourself. God has made the ultimate sacrifice, God has died because Jesus and the Father, as Nicodemus confesses in the very next story and as Jesus admits 8 chapters later are One. Jesus and the Father are One.
Jesus says there’s no need for the sacrificial system anymore. Why? Because He and God are one. And that’s blasphemy. And in making that statement, Jesus made himself a death wish.
Remember the ten commandments?
Number One: “You shall have no other gods before me” (including yourself).
Number Two: “You shall not make for yourself an idol” (or make yourself one – oops. Sorry American Idol), “whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.”
Number Three: “You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God,” (for use the name of the Lord when referring to yourself) “for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.”
Deuteronomy 5:7-21 and Exodus 20:3-17
I think you get my point.
And consider this. In the Old Testiment and even some Orthodox Jews today wouldn’t even speak the name of God: Yahweh, so sacred and so other and so holy did they consider God to be. They wouldn’t even speak God’s name. So you can imagine how they would respond to someone who not only spoke the name of God but who equated himself as equal with God. “Why do you do this in God’s house? My house is to be a place of prayer.”
Webster’s defines blasphemy as “an indignity offered to God in words, writing, or signs; impiously irreverent words or signs addressed to, or used in reference to, God; speaking evil of God; also, the act of claiming the attributes or prerogatives of deity. When used generally in statutes or at common law, blasphemy is the use of irreverent words or signs in reference to the Supreme Being in such a way as to produce scandal or provoke violence.”
And really, what could be more irreverent than for a human to equate himself with God? God as a human? Indeed that is scandelous.
And yet, that’s what Jesus claims.
So each of the synoptic gospels ends with the story of Jesus in the Temple functioning as the symbolic “final straw” of Jesus’ irritating ministry. Healing lepers and calling prostitutes clean is one thing, but equality with God? Please. And John begins his story of Jesus’ ministry with the Temple cleansing for a similar reason. This event is so provocative that it must be told first. All the rest of the stories just add to its case.
And that’s it. That’s the crux. Yes, Jesus was a good moral teacher who many of us strive to live our life after. Yes, Jesus won the victory over evil forces in the world. Yes, Jesus ransomed his life so that ours may be saved.
But why?
Because He’s God.
Because He’s God, and we’re not.
Praise be to God.
What got Jesus killed? We’re spending six weeks as a church, alongside all other Protestant and Catholic churches and a week ahead of the Greek Orthodox churches preparing for Jesus’ death and resurrection. Six weeks studying Jesus’ death on a cross. Six weeks preparing for Jesus’ resurrection from the tomb.
And in putting ashes on our head and declaring together as a community that indeed, we are all equally depraved and equally sinful in the eyes of God, we say, "from ashes we have come and to ashes we will return." In doing this we acknowledge that we are not worthy. And yet on Easter Sunday, resurrection Sunday, we will discover that God chooses to resurrect us anyway. For six weeks many of us deprive ourselves of a vice or pleasure and focus on our relationship with God. We pray, we repent, we suffer if only a smidgen, because Christ suffered first.
But Why?
Not why do we spend time doing this – the value of admitting we sin and turning from it and to Christ is undeniable by even the most secular cynics. My question is why did Jesus suffer? Why did Jesus die?
Unfortunately, I may never get the answer to that question. Oh there’s lots of theological reasons like that swell little drawing you do on a piece of paper where God is on one side of the page and You are on the other and you need a road to get to God so in the middle of the paper connecting You to God, a cross gets drawn because Jesus is the link between You and God.
Great. We’ve officially reduced the infinite and holy God to a stick drawing. Lovely.
I don’t understand that reasoning quite frankly. And I certainly don’t like the idea of a God dying in order to save me. I mean, God’s God. Why death? A bloody, grueling death? Why not just snap your fingers and get us all to be with you. That’s possible, right?
But that’s not what happened. So perhaps I may get a glimpse of the Why if we return to our sacred text, to the story that is told there. We’ll begin in John 2.
In John, as in the other three gospels, Jesus visits the Temple and upon seeing the men selling the animals for sacrifice and god only knows what else and making a profit of it right there, right next to the holy of holies, Jesus flips. He freaks out and in John we get the real details. He turns over the tables, his face turns red, his muscles bulge, he turns green…
Okay, I’m embellishing. But I loved the Incredible Hulk as a kid. And did you see The Rock play Ba-ROCK Obama on Saturday Night Live last week? Hilarious. And so I picture Jesus getting mad like that. I mean no where else does he trash a joint. When the prostitute is brought before him, he uses a tricky mind game to teach the perpetrators a lesson, then he draws in the sand. He doesn’t start throwing rocks or sand at them, hollering at them for their hypocrisy.
But in the Temple, he does. And therein lies what scholars consider to be the real reason Jesus got hung on a cross. It wasn’t that he was nice to outcasts, or cast demons out of people or made fun of the Pharisees. It was this… it was what he communicated to the religious leaders in the Temple that day.
According to Charles Talbert, a Johannine Scholar, what Jesus does in the Temple is render sacrifice IMPOSSIBLE. The money-changers changed money into shekels. Shekels buy the birds and the bulls. And without the birds, there’s no daily sacrifice for sin. And if there’s no sacrifice, then how can the people be made right in the eyes of God?
What Jesus does in the Temple is similar to what happens in the book of Matthew when Jesus is on the cross, “Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split.”
Jesus essentially says, there is no more need for sacrifice because he has come. There is no need to submit yourself to ritualistic cleansing because one has come who has made you clean. There is no need to go to a high priest for a blessing and affirmation, there is one whom you may go to yourself. The curtain is torn, there is no distinction between priest and peasant, no hierarchy to get to God. Jesus and the Father are one and both are accessible. There is no need for sacrifice to appease God or cleanse yourself. God has made the ultimate sacrifice, God has died because Jesus and the Father, as Nicodemus confesses in the very next story and as Jesus admits 8 chapters later are One. Jesus and the Father are One.
Jesus says there’s no need for the sacrificial system anymore. Why? Because He and God are one. And that’s blasphemy. And in making that statement, Jesus made himself a death wish.
Remember the ten commandments?
Number One: “You shall have no other gods before me” (including yourself).
Number Two: “You shall not make for yourself an idol” (or make yourself one – oops. Sorry American Idol), “whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.”
Number Three: “You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God,” (for use the name of the Lord when referring to yourself) “for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.”
Deuteronomy 5:7-21 and Exodus 20:3-17
I think you get my point.
And consider this. In the Old Testiment and even some Orthodox Jews today wouldn’t even speak the name of God: Yahweh, so sacred and so other and so holy did they consider God to be. They wouldn’t even speak God’s name. So you can imagine how they would respond to someone who not only spoke the name of God but who equated himself as equal with God. “Why do you do this in God’s house? My house is to be a place of prayer.”
Webster’s defines blasphemy as “an indignity offered to God in words, writing, or signs; impiously irreverent words or signs addressed to, or used in reference to, God; speaking evil of God; also, the act of claiming the attributes or prerogatives of deity. When used generally in statutes or at common law, blasphemy is the use of irreverent words or signs in reference to the Supreme Being in such a way as to produce scandal or provoke violence.”
And really, what could be more irreverent than for a human to equate himself with God? God as a human? Indeed that is scandelous.
And yet, that’s what Jesus claims.
So each of the synoptic gospels ends with the story of Jesus in the Temple functioning as the symbolic “final straw” of Jesus’ irritating ministry. Healing lepers and calling prostitutes clean is one thing, but equality with God? Please. And John begins his story of Jesus’ ministry with the Temple cleansing for a similar reason. This event is so provocative that it must be told first. All the rest of the stories just add to its case.
And that’s it. That’s the crux. Yes, Jesus was a good moral teacher who many of us strive to live our life after. Yes, Jesus won the victory over evil forces in the world. Yes, Jesus ransomed his life so that ours may be saved.
But why?
Because He’s God.
Because He’s God, and we’re not.
Praise be to God.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Four Seasons of Texas
We have four seasons here in Texas: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
I read that on a mass text today.
Right now we're in Almost Summer which means it could be 85 degrees (and it was this weekend) or 45 degrees (which it is right now). But we got rain for the first in months, I think, last night, which was awesome. It'll make my weeds grow which will give the impression of grass.
Always manipulate your environment.
Smile.
So right now I'm in my "winter" jammies with my down comforter pulled up around me (i usually just sleep with a sheet and thin blanket. A candle is glowing and I've got a cup of hot Sleepy-Time tea.
Lovely.
Except that my toes are freezing. Must find wool socks.
It's a miracle I ever lived in a place where it snowed.
I read that on a mass text today.
Right now we're in Almost Summer which means it could be 85 degrees (and it was this weekend) or 45 degrees (which it is right now). But we got rain for the first in months, I think, last night, which was awesome. It'll make my weeds grow which will give the impression of grass.
Always manipulate your environment.
Smile.
So right now I'm in my "winter" jammies with my down comforter pulled up around me (i usually just sleep with a sheet and thin blanket. A candle is glowing and I've got a cup of hot Sleepy-Time tea.
Lovely.
Except that my toes are freezing. Must find wool socks.
It's a miracle I ever lived in a place where it snowed.
Monday, March 09, 2009
The Happiest Ride On Earth
So I've been asked to comment on the happiest place on earth. We'll start with the happiest cruise on earth :)
That would be the famous "It's a Small World Ride." All I have to say is, "Awesome." I doubt any psychodelic drug I could get my hands on here in the hood today could compare to the Had-To-Have-Been-Seventies-Acid-Trip that is the happiest cruise on earth. It's amazing. All these "colors" and "worlds" and "cultures," it's badass.
And then at the end of the ride you enter LSD la la land where are the "people groups" are living together in one oddly white and blue world, playing, singing no doubt and of course, riding a ferris wheel.
My second favorite is Splash Mountain which tells the story of Brer Rabbit while getting you wet. It's awesome. I remember reading Brer Rabbit's story from a book at my grandma's house when I was a little girl. So it was nice to revisit it on Splash Mountain. The Scary Adventures of Snow White also tells the story of the movie in one easy ride.
And it was scary at one part. Seriously people, I jumped. Sitting. I startled, I guess. Whatever.
Cinderella's Carousel was right next to Snow White's ride, both of which I rode by myself while my buddies revisited Space Mountain for the second and third time. Ew. I don't like fast or bang your head side to side. I like Carousels.
I also like Funnel Cakes. I think they remind me of going to World's of Fun in Kansas City as a kid. So what did I do while my amigos were riding the roller coasters for the fifth and sixth time (I just threw up a little), I ordered a funnel cake with powered sugar and ATE THE WHOLE THING.
You heard me. By myself. The whole damn thing.
And it was awesome. Then I went shopping for about the seventh time in 24 hours. Also awesome. I love the pens. I bought myself a Belle pen (that's the princess I am) and a Nightmare Before Christmas pen. COOL!
My friends and I ended the day by returning to the hotel and then heading to a Chicago pizza parlor to spend our last night together gorging on pizza. Yum. And then we finished with Hearts (played on my new Pirates of the Caribbean cards) and eventually crashed.
Early the next morning, I barely remember waking up to Julie gently leaning over me and saying good-bye.
Just like on the Happiest Ride on Earth...
That would be the famous "It's a Small World Ride." All I have to say is, "Awesome." I doubt any psychodelic drug I could get my hands on here in the hood today could compare to the Had-To-Have-Been-Seventies-Acid-Trip that is the happiest cruise on earth. It's amazing. All these "colors" and "worlds" and "cultures," it's badass.
And then at the end of the ride you enter LSD la la land where are the "people groups" are living together in one oddly white and blue world, playing, singing no doubt and of course, riding a ferris wheel.
My second favorite is Splash Mountain which tells the story of Brer Rabbit while getting you wet. It's awesome. I remember reading Brer Rabbit's story from a book at my grandma's house when I was a little girl. So it was nice to revisit it on Splash Mountain. The Scary Adventures of Snow White also tells the story of the movie in one easy ride.
And it was scary at one part. Seriously people, I jumped. Sitting. I startled, I guess. Whatever.
Cinderella's Carousel was right next to Snow White's ride, both of which I rode by myself while my buddies revisited Space Mountain for the second and third time. Ew. I don't like fast or bang your head side to side. I like Carousels.
I also like Funnel Cakes. I think they remind me of going to World's of Fun in Kansas City as a kid. So what did I do while my amigos were riding the roller coasters for the fifth and sixth time (I just threw up a little), I ordered a funnel cake with powered sugar and ATE THE WHOLE THING.
You heard me. By myself. The whole damn thing.
And it was awesome. Then I went shopping for about the seventh time in 24 hours. Also awesome. I love the pens. I bought myself a Belle pen (that's the princess I am) and a Nightmare Before Christmas pen. COOL!
My friends and I ended the day by returning to the hotel and then heading to a Chicago pizza parlor to spend our last night together gorging on pizza. Yum. And then we finished with Hearts (played on my new Pirates of the Caribbean cards) and eventually crashed.
Early the next morning, I barely remember waking up to Julie gently leaning over me and saying good-bye.
Just like on the Happiest Ride on Earth...
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Kiss My McAss
Unlike McDreamy and McSteamy and even the McMansion built right next to my house, I HATE McDonalds. I'm not big on monopolies, but restaurants that advertise unhealthy substandard food to children really gets under my skin. Not to mention the known neuro-toxin they put on the inside of the chicken boxes to help preserve the smell of the food and well, like any decent human being, I avoid the place.
However, I have been known to eat there in dire emergencies like the one presenting itself last Thursday. Knowing I wouldn't get dinner for another 4 hours and not having had lunch, I joined Michelle and her sister Katie, who was also hungry in the drive-thru at McyDee's. We were on the way to Michelle's sonogram (more on that excitement later!) and it was the only restaurant nearby, so we stopped.
Katie and I decided to share the Chicken McNugget meal. Ew. I know. So we ordered it and pulled to the second window. However, by that time I realized I should have ordered a caffeinated beverage because I still had a long day ahead of me. Since it was the pay window, we figured we could still order so I dictated my request up to Katie for a coffee.
"You know, the one that's frozen with caramel?"
"You want a coffee on ice?"
"No, I want that new thing you're offering, the frozen coffee with caramel..."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I just saw it on your menu, the caramel frappucino thing."
"That's starbucks."
"I know, but I want the new drink you're offering that's comparable to that."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Expletive. Just forget it Katie, forget it sir. Drive to the next window Katie."
We get to the next window where the next McMan hands us our food at which point I ask from the backseat for some hot mustard sauce to go with the nuggets. Yum. He hands two to Katie.
"And can I have some ranch?" she asks (remember we're sharing).
"I cannot give you more than that."
"Huh?"
"That's all I'm allowed to give you."
"What?"
At this point the unhappy, pregnant and soon to be sonogramed mother leans over and says,
"Katie give the man back ONE of the hot mustards and sir, give us a ranch. Please."
The transaction transpired. We all sighed irritatedly, but with most things we wanted in hand and turned the corner toward the perinatal clinic and what did we see? A TEN FOOT TALL ADVERTISEMENT FOR A McCafe. A McCafe.
Seriously?
McSeriously.
Customer Care at it's worst. Reason number 73 as to why I will never go to McDonalds again.
However, I have been known to eat there in dire emergencies like the one presenting itself last Thursday. Knowing I wouldn't get dinner for another 4 hours and not having had lunch, I joined Michelle and her sister Katie, who was also hungry in the drive-thru at McyDee's. We were on the way to Michelle's sonogram (more on that excitement later!) and it was the only restaurant nearby, so we stopped.
Katie and I decided to share the Chicken McNugget meal. Ew. I know. So we ordered it and pulled to the second window. However, by that time I realized I should have ordered a caffeinated beverage because I still had a long day ahead of me. Since it was the pay window, we figured we could still order so I dictated my request up to Katie for a coffee.
"You know, the one that's frozen with caramel?"
"You want a coffee on ice?"
"No, I want that new thing you're offering, the frozen coffee with caramel..."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I just saw it on your menu, the caramel frappucino thing."
"That's starbucks."
"I know, but I want the new drink you're offering that's comparable to that."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Expletive. Just forget it Katie, forget it sir. Drive to the next window Katie."
We get to the next window where the next McMan hands us our food at which point I ask from the backseat for some hot mustard sauce to go with the nuggets. Yum. He hands two to Katie.
"And can I have some ranch?" she asks (remember we're sharing).
"I cannot give you more than that."
"Huh?"
"That's all I'm allowed to give you."
"What?"
At this point the unhappy, pregnant and soon to be sonogramed mother leans over and says,
"Katie give the man back ONE of the hot mustards and sir, give us a ranch. Please."
The transaction transpired. We all sighed irritatedly, but with most things we wanted in hand and turned the corner toward the perinatal clinic and what did we see? A TEN FOOT TALL ADVERTISEMENT FOR A McCafe. A McCafe.
Seriously?
McSeriously.
Customer Care at it's worst. Reason number 73 as to why I will never go to McDonalds again.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Saved By the... Blog
So about 12 hours after I posted my last blog I got a phone call from a friend in Nashville who's mom would be arriving that night in Disney World, and (you guessed it) I am welcome to give her a call!
I'm telling you, for all the weirdness of the week, it sure worked out well for me.
As I mentioned before, I had searched, pretty hard, to find someone going to Current who would want to play at DW (what I now call Disney World since we're now kinda on BFF terms) with me. Cody... not going. Rachel... not going. Tracie... not staying. Etc. Etc. Etc. Then I show up and find one of my best friends, Julie, at the retreat and she invites me to stay on with her at a hotel right across from Disney FOR FREE! Unfortunately for Julie, she took a tumble the second night of the Current Retreat (that's what happens when you skip worship Julis) and badly sprained her wrist.
So me staying with her turned out to be a blessing for her too since, well, when you're in a cast from fingertip to elbow, there's lots of things you can't do for yourself. Those things shall remain unnamed...
Her friends and colleagues from Wilshire Baptist where they are all residents were pretty cool peeps too.
One of them I knew from seminary. But the other three I just met and all were kind enough to allow me to join their journey (which included a 30 minute car ride with four men and two women in a five passenger vehicle. Yes, gimp girl i smooshed into the front seat together and yes it looked exactly like you're picturing it.
And then of course, there's the discovery of the plane ticket oversight. But, after blogging about it and getting the call from Sam, sure enough, his mom, LuAnn, picked me up and drove me to her resort IN THE PARK where again, I got free lodging and also a free park-hopping ticket to DW! I knew that Sam and Lynnette's family loved DW, but i did not quite understand the extent. This woman pulls out a BINDER and starts flipping through the pages to the back where she keeps her spare tickets! And the hotel we're at? It's called the Pop Culture Resort! Just wait for my report on that.
And not only does LuAnn love Disney, but she loves animals and after dropping off my stuff we promptly head to Animal Kingdom (where none of the Wilshire kids were interested in going). YES!!!
Of course, the morning of my last day there I received a string of phone calls about my alarm going off at the house and Clarence holding Janie back while the police inspected the inside. And while that turned out just to be a big wind that blew open the side door, I still haven't figured out what blew through me that last day. After eating breakfast and hopping on the plane back to Austin, I got sick. Motion sick, I thought. But as I changed clothes in the back of my other friend Julie's car who had picked me up from the airport, I discovered it was perhaps more than just motion sickness. And while I managed to squeeze inside the dress Julie'd brought for me and jump from the car into the church for the wedding, I didn't manage to keep the wedding feast inside like I'd hoped. Home early from the wedding, I tasted it a second time if you get my drift.
So while I had a blast at DW (and you will be getting more pictures and blogs soon enough) the trip was definitely tempered with sobriety at the end... or perhaps a nice little reminder that while I may have just experienced the happiest place on earth, I actually live in the most melodramatic place on earth. But hopefully between the Princesses and the puking, I'll find some normalcy in between.
I'm telling you, for all the weirdness of the week, it sure worked out well for me.
As I mentioned before, I had searched, pretty hard, to find someone going to Current who would want to play at DW (what I now call Disney World since we're now kinda on BFF terms) with me. Cody... not going. Rachel... not going. Tracie... not staying. Etc. Etc. Etc. Then I show up and find one of my best friends, Julie, at the retreat and she invites me to stay on with her at a hotel right across from Disney FOR FREE! Unfortunately for Julie, she took a tumble the second night of the Current Retreat (that's what happens when you skip worship Julis) and badly sprained her wrist.
So me staying with her turned out to be a blessing for her too since, well, when you're in a cast from fingertip to elbow, there's lots of things you can't do for yourself. Those things shall remain unnamed...
Her friends and colleagues from Wilshire Baptist where they are all residents were pretty cool peeps too.
One of them I knew from seminary. But the other three I just met and all were kind enough to allow me to join their journey (which included a 30 minute car ride with four men and two women in a five passenger vehicle. Yes, gimp girl i smooshed into the front seat together and yes it looked exactly like you're picturing it.
And then of course, there's the discovery of the plane ticket oversight. But, after blogging about it and getting the call from Sam, sure enough, his mom, LuAnn, picked me up and drove me to her resort IN THE PARK where again, I got free lodging and also a free park-hopping ticket to DW! I knew that Sam and Lynnette's family loved DW, but i did not quite understand the extent. This woman pulls out a BINDER and starts flipping through the pages to the back where she keeps her spare tickets! And the hotel we're at? It's called the Pop Culture Resort! Just wait for my report on that.
And not only does LuAnn love Disney, but she loves animals and after dropping off my stuff we promptly head to Animal Kingdom (where none of the Wilshire kids were interested in going). YES!!!
Of course, the morning of my last day there I received a string of phone calls about my alarm going off at the house and Clarence holding Janie back while the police inspected the inside. And while that turned out just to be a big wind that blew open the side door, I still haven't figured out what blew through me that last day. After eating breakfast and hopping on the plane back to Austin, I got sick. Motion sick, I thought. But as I changed clothes in the back of my other friend Julie's car who had picked me up from the airport, I discovered it was perhaps more than just motion sickness. And while I managed to squeeze inside the dress Julie'd brought for me and jump from the car into the church for the wedding, I didn't manage to keep the wedding feast inside like I'd hoped. Home early from the wedding, I tasted it a second time if you get my drift.
So while I had a blast at DW (and you will be getting more pictures and blogs soon enough) the trip was definitely tempered with sobriety at the end... or perhaps a nice little reminder that while I may have just experienced the happiest place on earth, I actually live in the most melodramatic place on earth. But hopefully between the Princesses and the puking, I'll find some normalcy in between.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Happiest Place on Earth
So I am totally stupid when it comes to airplanes.
Listen to this. Once I went to a conference and I bought my plane tickets cheaply and in advance. When i arrived at the conference which was two days long I realized I had only booked myself to stay there ONE day so 24 hours after I arrived I returned to the airport to catch my flight back to Austin. No, I didn't wan't to pay the $100 to change my flight and stay an extra day. Fine, so i thought. The problem arrived when I arrived at the airport and learned I had remembered incorrectly and that indeed I had booked myself to stay for two days and so, of course, now I was a day early to the airport. At which place I did pay $100 to change my ticket to that very day and hour because I was too embarrassed to cab it back to the retreat center and admit my stupid mistake.
I know, right?
Fast forward to January. I search for a month, polling friends: who's staying longer after our Current Retreat in Orlando this year? Who wants to stay longer and go to Disney World with me? Do any of my friends want to fly down and hang out with me? No takers except a couple from my church who are very couple-y and who have two kids and will be away from said kids and so I don't want to be with them and infringe on their time. Oh well. No happy place for me.
Sunday I arrived in Orlando and discovered my good friend Julie is here at the conference and she and her fellow residents are staying longer!! Thrilled, I pay $100 to put my flight on hold for some other time and buy an $86 ticket back to Austin for Saturday morning.
Julie is flying out Friday morning. As are all her friends. Which of course I didn't realize until about 15 minutes ago after we checked into the hotel for... you got it, one night. This means I will be homeless in Orlando as of 8am on Friday.
LOVELY.
So, if you find yourself in Orlando, specifically Disney World, and happen across a sweet, 30 year old (a little deranged), red-headed woman talking to Eyore... it's me. Come rescue me from the happiest place on earth.
Listen to this. Once I went to a conference and I bought my plane tickets cheaply and in advance. When i arrived at the conference which was two days long I realized I had only booked myself to stay there ONE day so 24 hours after I arrived I returned to the airport to catch my flight back to Austin. No, I didn't wan't to pay the $100 to change my flight and stay an extra day. Fine, so i thought. The problem arrived when I arrived at the airport and learned I had remembered incorrectly and that indeed I had booked myself to stay for two days and so, of course, now I was a day early to the airport. At which place I did pay $100 to change my ticket to that very day and hour because I was too embarrassed to cab it back to the retreat center and admit my stupid mistake.
I know, right?
Fast forward to January. I search for a month, polling friends: who's staying longer after our Current Retreat in Orlando this year? Who wants to stay longer and go to Disney World with me? Do any of my friends want to fly down and hang out with me? No takers except a couple from my church who are very couple-y and who have two kids and will be away from said kids and so I don't want to be with them and infringe on their time. Oh well. No happy place for me.
Sunday I arrived in Orlando and discovered my good friend Julie is here at the conference and she and her fellow residents are staying longer!! Thrilled, I pay $100 to put my flight on hold for some other time and buy an $86 ticket back to Austin for Saturday morning.
Julie is flying out Friday morning. As are all her friends. Which of course I didn't realize until about 15 minutes ago after we checked into the hotel for... you got it, one night. This means I will be homeless in Orlando as of 8am on Friday.
LOVELY.
So, if you find yourself in Orlando, specifically Disney World, and happen across a sweet, 30 year old (a little deranged), red-headed woman talking to Eyore... it's me. Come rescue me from the happiest place on earth.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Night Harry Potter Stole My Innocence
I've been neglectful, it's true. But I've been SO busy... so that's my excuse. I have been thinking on all sorts of fun things that, honest to god, I really do intend to write about soon, but it just hasn't happened. Monday was my first full day off in February, and I spent most of it sleeping and eating and cleaning. Although I did work out... or did I? I can't remember now. Yeah, I'm gonna go with no, I did not work out. Golly and that was just yesterday.
Obviously my memory is a little slow.
As is my metabolism. I went to the doctor today and discovered that I am the heaviest I've ever been (with the exception of my first year in college - the freshman fifty you know! - oh wait, i think that was supposed to be fifteen). And while I'm not complaining, I am sort of lamenting what to do about my closet full of clothes that aren't fitting right and look terrible on me.
On a lighter note (always make fun of yourself!), I'm also the happiest I've been in a long time. I don't know if it is all the hard work I did at the therapist in 2008 or my attempts to bribe and brainwash 2009 into being a fantastic year, but something is different. And I'll take it while it lasts.
What isn't lasting is my youth and naivete. I learned something tonight about myself. I sort of discovered that I wasn't a teenager anymore and I'll never be a famous movie star. Stay with me on this. You see, I've spent the last two days catching up on Harry Potter movies I've missed over the past few years. And now that Harry's fifteen I thought tonight, gosh, he's cute; I'd date him. And then I realized. I'M THIRTY. I will never date Harry Potter because I'm TWICE HIS AGE. And not only that, I'm not famous, nor will I ever be, so how would I meet him anyway? I'll never be a movie star. I'll never be a young beautiful woman who gave a dazzling performance on the big screen and is now accepting her Oscar. Although truthfully (sorry, Harry), I never actually thought I'd marry a movie star. I always figured I'd marry someone normal and a little boring but who made me laugh and didn't mind raising our kids in my movie set trailer...
I know that seems ridiculous and a little narcissistic. But I think that until tonight I honestly thought I'd get "discovered" someday by someone who immediately saw my raw talent and dashing good looks. And tonight I realized that's not going to happen. I'll never be interviewed by Barbara Walters. I'll never be saving my parents the two best seats in the house for the musical I'm starring in on Broadway.
This was quite a blow, I tell you, quite a blow.
But despite my obesity (smile people, it's a joke) and my epiphany that I'll never be Nicole Kidman or Glen Close and the slow realization that all I've got is a house, some pets and a bottle of vodka, I'm taking it remarkably well.
Scratch the bottle of vodka. I forgot I'm giving up sugar and alcohol starting tomorrow morning.
So that's the scoop. I've been very busy getting fat and getting deflated. Ironic, I suppose. But the truth nonetheless.
Of course, if anyone important is reading this right now, and you want to scoop me up and escort me off to LA to film the next Moulin Rouge, that's okay too. I'd gladly revise this post and lose thirty pounds or thirty years for the role. :)
Obviously my memory is a little slow.
As is my metabolism. I went to the doctor today and discovered that I am the heaviest I've ever been (with the exception of my first year in college - the freshman fifty you know! - oh wait, i think that was supposed to be fifteen). And while I'm not complaining, I am sort of lamenting what to do about my closet full of clothes that aren't fitting right and look terrible on me.
On a lighter note (always make fun of yourself!), I'm also the happiest I've been in a long time. I don't know if it is all the hard work I did at the therapist in 2008 or my attempts to bribe and brainwash 2009 into being a fantastic year, but something is different. And I'll take it while it lasts.
What isn't lasting is my youth and naivete. I learned something tonight about myself. I sort of discovered that I wasn't a teenager anymore and I'll never be a famous movie star. Stay with me on this. You see, I've spent the last two days catching up on Harry Potter movies I've missed over the past few years. And now that Harry's fifteen I thought tonight, gosh, he's cute; I'd date him. And then I realized. I'M THIRTY. I will never date Harry Potter because I'm TWICE HIS AGE. And not only that, I'm not famous, nor will I ever be, so how would I meet him anyway? I'll never be a movie star. I'll never be a young beautiful woman who gave a dazzling performance on the big screen and is now accepting her Oscar. Although truthfully (sorry, Harry), I never actually thought I'd marry a movie star. I always figured I'd marry someone normal and a little boring but who made me laugh and didn't mind raising our kids in my movie set trailer...
I know that seems ridiculous and a little narcissistic. But I think that until tonight I honestly thought I'd get "discovered" someday by someone who immediately saw my raw talent and dashing good looks. And tonight I realized that's not going to happen. I'll never be interviewed by Barbara Walters. I'll never be saving my parents the two best seats in the house for the musical I'm starring in on Broadway.
This was quite a blow, I tell you, quite a blow.
But despite my obesity (smile people, it's a joke) and my epiphany that I'll never be Nicole Kidman or Glen Close and the slow realization that all I've got is a house, some pets and a bottle of vodka, I'm taking it remarkably well.
Scratch the bottle of vodka. I forgot I'm giving up sugar and alcohol starting tomorrow morning.
So that's the scoop. I've been very busy getting fat and getting deflated. Ironic, I suppose. But the truth nonetheless.
Of course, if anyone important is reading this right now, and you want to scoop me up and escort me off to LA to film the next Moulin Rouge, that's okay too. I'd gladly revise this post and lose thirty pounds or thirty years for the role. :)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Trinity Street Players presents...
This weekend, in honor of Darwin's 200th Birthday (today!) and Baylor University's Science and Faith Conference that FBC will be hosting in September, and because the Texas legislature is still debating whether to add the un-scientific study of Creationism into our sceince textbooks, Trinity Street Players of First Baptist Church of Austin, TX will be presenting Inherit the Wind.
Show times are...
Friday, Feb. 13, 8pm childcare available
Saturday, Feb 14, 8pm
Sunday, Feb 15, 2pm childcare available
Friday, Feb. 20, 8pm childcare available
Saturday, Feb 21, 8pm
Sunday, Feb. 22, 8pm
Call 512-476-2625 to reserve your FREE tickets or just show up the night of a performance! Parking downtown is tricky so come early!
Friday, February 06, 2009
Amy Lauren
What would you willingly wake up early for on a Monday morning. And I mean early. Like 8am?
I'd wake up for my sister.
Knowing she would arrive at 11:30 that day, I was in work at 901 Trinity street by 9am. Ask the ladies of the office. They'll vouch. It was like a miracle. Bur the Pitts was coming in to town so I worked hard Sunday and Monday to get a lot of work done so when she arrived we could spend maximum free time together.
We fared pretty well. Of course, I had rehearsal three nights and church two nights of the four she was here, but other than that and a couple of hours here and there in the office, we got a lot of time together!
So what did we do, you ask?...
What we always do... eat, drink and shop.
It was glorious.
Day one we drove straight to church where we were hosting the annual Christian Life Commission Conference. But for lunch, we quickly headed to, you guess it, Amy's favorite restaurant in Austin, Opal Divine's. Ah... a little slice of heaven.
Amy wanted to see two people when she was in Austin: Amy and Michelle (and of course, Grant and Chris who go with those women). When probed further she added Frank and Jane & Bill to that list. We almost covered everyone.
Monday night after rehearsal, we ate dinner at Katz's and visited MoMo's where Grant & Amy's band were playing. We met up with Michelle and Chris and it was a fun, if late, evening.
Tuesday, Amy, Michelle and I worked out at the Y (love you steam room!) and then lunched at Zocola, a new restaurant for Michelle and Amy who loved the frozen sangrias.
Delicious, I agree. Then we crossed the street to one of the old time drug stores still in Austin and I bought, you guessed it mom and dad, a chocolate malt. And then shopping on SoCo! God, I love Austin. We grabbed coffee at Jo's and then headed to church. Dinner was eaten late when we picked up Parlor Pizza after rehearsal and returned home to watch Ocean's 13, a series of movies Amy and I love. Don't ask my why.
Wednesday Janie, Amy and I walked a little around the dog park on the Hike and Bike Trail and then joined Frankie for lunch at Moonshine (another of my to 5 Austin restaurants) which was glorious (love those Ruby Red Slippers).
After another short shopping spree (again on South Congress), I went to work where Amy and I heard one of my former and favorite professors speak about the war between faith and science and a spectrum of reactions to their relationship. Afterwards, we met Aaron Valentine, Mel Behrends and Chris minus Michelle at Vivo's for drinks and queso. Yea! for restaurants that put flowers in your drinks!
Thursday started off sad. The last day of having Amy or my mom or whomever in town always starts off a little sad... I have trouble having fun when I know it's the last day. And I always obsess over whether or not enough fun is being had. Thursday brought a good deal of time at work, despite what i tried to get done ahead of time. Fortunately, Amy brought her own work along. After rehearsal and then Beresheth, Amy was exhausted and we went home so she could pack. And for our final evening together, we crawled into my bed (which we share) and watched Bridget Jones' Diary. I was alarmed at how relevant it is to my life now that I've crossed over the Thirty mark, but it was still fun to watch. It always makes me feel a little bit better about my life. At least I don't have Bridget's public speaking problem...
Then again, I don't have her Colin Firth problem either.
Sigh.
So now Amy's gone and I'm lonely and sad and homesick, but still grateful. Always. For a wonderful family...
who should all move to Austin as soon as possible.
I'd wake up for my sister.
Knowing she would arrive at 11:30 that day, I was in work at 901 Trinity street by 9am. Ask the ladies of the office. They'll vouch. It was like a miracle. Bur the Pitts was coming in to town so I worked hard Sunday and Monday to get a lot of work done so when she arrived we could spend maximum free time together.
We fared pretty well. Of course, I had rehearsal three nights and church two nights of the four she was here, but other than that and a couple of hours here and there in the office, we got a lot of time together!
So what did we do, you ask?...
What we always do... eat, drink and shop.
It was glorious.
Day one we drove straight to church where we were hosting the annual Christian Life Commission Conference. But for lunch, we quickly headed to, you guess it, Amy's favorite restaurant in Austin, Opal Divine's. Ah... a little slice of heaven.
Amy wanted to see two people when she was in Austin: Amy and Michelle (and of course, Grant and Chris who go with those women). When probed further she added Frank and Jane & Bill to that list. We almost covered everyone.
Monday night after rehearsal, we ate dinner at Katz's and visited MoMo's where Grant & Amy's band were playing. We met up with Michelle and Chris and it was a fun, if late, evening.
Tuesday, Amy, Michelle and I worked out at the Y (love you steam room!) and then lunched at Zocola, a new restaurant for Michelle and Amy who loved the frozen sangrias.
Delicious, I agree. Then we crossed the street to one of the old time drug stores still in Austin and I bought, you guessed it mom and dad, a chocolate malt. And then shopping on SoCo! God, I love Austin. We grabbed coffee at Jo's and then headed to church. Dinner was eaten late when we picked up Parlor Pizza after rehearsal and returned home to watch Ocean's 13, a series of movies Amy and I love. Don't ask my why.
Wednesday Janie, Amy and I walked a little around the dog park on the Hike and Bike Trail and then joined Frankie for lunch at Moonshine (another of my to 5 Austin restaurants) which was glorious (love those Ruby Red Slippers).
After another short shopping spree (again on South Congress), I went to work where Amy and I heard one of my former and favorite professors speak about the war between faith and science and a spectrum of reactions to their relationship. Afterwards, we met Aaron Valentine, Mel Behrends and Chris minus Michelle at Vivo's for drinks and queso. Yea! for restaurants that put flowers in your drinks!
Thursday started off sad. The last day of having Amy or my mom or whomever in town always starts off a little sad... I have trouble having fun when I know it's the last day. And I always obsess over whether or not enough fun is being had. Thursday brought a good deal of time at work, despite what i tried to get done ahead of time. Fortunately, Amy brought her own work along. After rehearsal and then Beresheth, Amy was exhausted and we went home so she could pack. And for our final evening together, we crawled into my bed (which we share) and watched Bridget Jones' Diary. I was alarmed at how relevant it is to my life now that I've crossed over the Thirty mark, but it was still fun to watch. It always makes me feel a little bit better about my life. At least I don't have Bridget's public speaking problem...
Then again, I don't have her Colin Firth problem either.
Sigh.
So now Amy's gone and I'm lonely and sad and homesick, but still grateful. Always. For a wonderful family...
who should all move to Austin as soon as possible.
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