Until this week, I’d never have believed a soap opera could positively impact a person’s outlook on life. I’m still having a hard time believing that. But a friend, one of my best, swears a television show stuffed with hookups, heartbreaks, and heart attacks did just that. He claims it has inspired him to pay attention to the important things in life, and he’s committed to being a better person because of it. I’m proud of him, but I don’t think this change was brought about by a television show. I believe he had it in him all along, and only finally got up the courage to talk about what he’s been missing. The high road will cost him, something I’m not sure he knows yet, but it’ll also lead him to happiness someday he wouldn’t have enjoyed otherwise. And it is at the insistence of this courageous and naive friend that my next entry be about the TV show that’s so impacted him.

So it seems I’m forced to write an entire post about One Tree Hill…

He even picked the theme. I’m supposed to write about second chances and forgiveness as they relate to a particularly villainous character in the show. Dan Scott, the patriarchal head of half the major characters, shot and killed his brother Keith Scott in cold blood (I can’t believe I’m writing this). After spending five years in prison, during which time he attempts suicide, he is paroled and ends up saving the lives of his grandson and daughter-in-law. Does the act of saving a life (or two) somehow negate the act of taking a life? Should it all come out in a wash?

My answer – absolutely not. Dan does not deserve a second chance because he saved the lives of his family members. As heroic as his deeds were, they cannot outweigh the murder of his own brother. The first act of violence ever committed was the killing of Abel by Cain. Something as ancient and evil as taking a brother’s life cannot be undone with enough good deeds. It is my belief that there is no bond closer than that of brothers – be them biological, spiritual, or emotional. The kind of love David and Jonathon shared “surpassed that of women.” The camaraderie is indescribable to those who have never experienced it, and it’s no accident that the first human relationship Satan destroyed was that of brothers. The suggestion that Dan Scott could somehow earn his way into forgiveness is out of the question.

However, as painful as it can be at times, with family and even friends comes unconditional love. A love that says, “no matter what, I’m here for you.” As reprehensible as human nature can be, love forgives. Simple as that. God was willing to forgive Cain and even granted him a mark of protection after he murdered Abel. As it relates to One Tree Hill (still can’t believe I’m writing about this), Dan Scott should be offered forgiveness – not because he earned it – but because families and friends forgive. It’s just what they do. I wonder what the divorce statistics would be if husband and wives learned to overcome their self-importance and forgave each other. How many marriages, friendships, and families could be salvaged from the mess pride has made of our culture if only people learned to forgive? The notion of loved ones “being in it together” seems all but dead sometimes. We need to stop paying so much attention to ourselves and learn to cherish others.

Like Peyton.

Complaining – even with merit – can get old fast. I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that the reformers, the reformed, and everyone in between need to take frequent breaks and just (for lack of a better word) chill. Even a good song can become painfully irritating if listened to too many times.

This week I’ve been reading books about the failings of evangelicals, listening to podcasts about post-evangelicals, humming along to music bashing the mega-churches of evangelicals (Derek Webb…), and tonight I find myself suddenly annoyed. I’m tired of feeding my brain lyrics condemning white, middle class Republicans and church and America. I let a good thing become too much too fast – and I need to slow down, or else my (presumably righteous) interest will fizzle out and die.

That’s why I’m going to totally shift gears and write about videogames!

I love videogames. They’re right up there in my top three favorite things in the whole wide world (pizza and pets being the other two). I grew up playing Mario Kart and NBA Jam with my older brother. As far as friendships go, the only reliable predictor of who will wind up being a close friend are the videogame interests we share. I’m a “recreational nerd” and the people who I hang with are the same. I’ll never forget my ex-girlfriend, whose ultra-conservative parents forbade her from playing videogames, explaining to me that she was taught videogames hamper creativity. “But you're one of the most creative people I know!” Any creativity I have stems from writing as a kid, and acting out the videogames I played with my friends. My next door neighbors’ pool turned into our personal Pokemon water arena, or a vast ocean Link and his friends needed to cross to rescue Princess Zelda. Pulling weeds in my mother’s garden became Mario enslaved by the evil King Koopa – only to dash for freedom when the lizard turned his repulsive, bulbous head (“MATTHEW MICHAEL! GET BACK HERE!”). To top it off, my childhood home (complete with a lake, a stream, and a bog), bordered a forest preserve on two sides of our property. A kid couldn’t ask for a more appropriate setting to act out his real life digital adventures.

In his autobiography Surprised By Joy, C. S. Lewis remarked that, as a boy, he lived “almost entirely in his imagination,” spending his time pretending to be a heroic figure.  He perceived this to be a bad thing, saying, “In my daydreams I was training myself to be a fool.” As much as I hate to disagree with the Narnian himself, I strongly believe that children pretending they are something they are not, as I did when I played Mario and Pikachu and Link, drastically improves their creativity. Now I have no way to scientifically verify this, but logically it makes sense. Kids are able to invent a perspective outside themselves (which could even foster improved social skills later in life). Who knows, if Lewis hadn’t pretended he was a hero renowned, the world might have been short one oversized, legendary lion (and, so far, two fantastic movies). 

 A friend of mine, who has always dreamed of becoming a pastor, told me today he is nowhere near ready to volunteer for a leadership role in his church. “If someone came to me with a theological question,” he said, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to say.” While I admired his humility, I was a little surprised. My friend owns volume after volume of Bible commentaries. Stacks of systematic theology texts are piled knee high on his apartment floor. If anyone knows his faith literally cover to cover, it's this guy. When I mentioned this to him, he paused for a moment, then said, “Well… I know my stuff, but I don’t know everything.” I asked him if “knowing everything” was a prerequisite for ministry, and he said of course.

As much as I respect my friend (who is, admittedly, older and wiser than myself), I have to disagree with him. I believe what marks a leader is authentic humility – including humility of ideas. No one can “know everything” about anything – particularly something as mystical and ethereal as the Spirit of God. Trying to conquer the character of I AM by stuffing Him into theological and doctrinal boxes without room whatsoever for mystery… well it’s impossible. You can’t do justice to the supernatural using the natural – i.e. language. It’s literally like describing the indescribable. All this to say, I don’t believe any Christian – leader or not – needs to have all the answers. They don’t anyway. To pretend to can only cause harm.

To apply my own train of thought – I don’t understand the purpose of prayer. If God’s will “will be done” anyway – why should we pray? I don’t believe God operates on the “because I said so” principle without reason. The only other plausible explanation is God’s will won’t be done (which seems to fit more neatly into the biblical framework… but many Christians think that notion blasphemous). Someone asked me recently if he could pray for me. I said yes, he could ask God to ensure I am accepted at Eastern this January.  My friend told me he would not pray for my acceptance to Eastern, but rather that “God’s will will be accomplished with regards to me and Eastern.” To me, that sounded pointless. Does God really need us to pray Him into doing what He wants? Why would God limit Himself? But if He doesn’t limit Himself and does whatever He wants regardless of our prayers, why pray at all? This is an example of human logic – and the language that produced it – limiting us from understanding a perceived paradox. To pretend there is no conflict here detracts from the super-human aspect of God, and the weakness of manmade constructs.

(or maybe I just don’t get it)

Taking inventory of my talents and abilities is a depressing affair. In elementary school, I was well on my way to becoming a piano prodigy. I was playing Beethoven when most kids were picking through Mary Had a Little Lamb. Then I gave up. In seventh grade, I entered Cross Country as one of the fastest athletes on the team. I never applied myself and soon began lagging behind. Two mediocre seasons later, I gave up. In my first three years taking Spanish I worked hard and was consistently the top student in the class. Come Spanish IV, when it got hard, I stopped working and ended up dropping Spanish V altogether. I never followed through and most of my talents have been squandered. I write well, but nothing extraordinary. Aside from informative essays aimed at pleasing a professor, I'm just a mediocre, nothing special writer. 
I'm starting to feel like a mediocre, nothing special guy. 
One of the nine practices that encompasses an emerging church, according to Scot McKnight, involves "participating as producers." The Simple Way in Philadelphia works with their hands, making useful items to enrich their community. Claiborne makes his own clothing. Even Scripture encourages Christians to "lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..." This line of thinking helped spark my backup plan if I am not accepted to Eastern. If January comes and goes without me packing up for Pennsylvania, I plan to enroll in ECC and take some beginner's photography classes - maybe even a ceramics class. In addition, I'd like to take a creative writing course. I want to be able to create things of beauty and relevance. That's another motivator to keep up this LiveJournal. Someday I hope to make use of my writing and - potentially - photography. "As a created being made in the image of a Creator, creation seems like a worthy goal to undertake" (paraphrased from somewhere... but I do not remember where). 
And, if I'm accepted to Eastern, then I always have the summers to head on over to ECC. 

Being raised as an evangelical Baptist Christian, it's hard for me not to think in labels and groupings. Having removed myself from the type of Christianity my parents and church and university preached, for the first time I find myself without something to call myself. Normally, if a website asked me for my "Bio" or gave me space to write an "About Me," I'd immediately mention my spiritual affiliation. But for half a year now I've been unsure of what to write. Where I fit in is a bit of a mystery to me. Not one Christian I know personally sympathizes with my beliefs - largely because I do not have any particular set of beliefs. My former Baptist university might say I'm a "floundering in the vast sea of secular worldviews." I should simply accept the "Christian metanarrative" and dive into a life of faith in Jesus Christ. But my problem is that I've tried that (or at least tried that their way). My entire life has been spent re-re-re-re-re-dedicating my life to God on a sometimes weekly basis. I sympathize with Shane Claiborne's desperate search for a real Christian in Irresistible Revolution. He found one in Calcutta. I'd be saddened if I have to travel thousands of miles to find someone who looks like Jesus. Where are the Christians who live it instead of just tell it? Orthodoxy doesn't seem to lead to orthopraxy... but maybe it's the other way around. Psychology teaches that, in many cases, actions can actually lead to beliefs. Something about "cognitive dissonance." For largely this reason, I've begun to identify with the "postmodern" or "emerging" brand of Christianity. An emphasis on doing instead of believing appeals to me. Jesus said "by their fruits you will recognize them" - not their theology. I believe in Jesus Christ and I believe he is the Truth and salvation. But I do not believe any one denomination gets it entirely correct. Christians are labeling Christians as heretics and false prophets. Christians refuse to allow Christians to worship how they want to worship, to pray how they want to pray, even to serve how they want to serve. All the while the world is fundamentally broken in need of repair... but the body of Christ is too busy bickering with itself to care. What are we doing? The church I attend recently built a multi-million dollar youth facility complete with pinball machines, Nintendo Wiis, plasma TVs, and Xbox360s. Five minutes down the road there are families who can't afford the cost of gas. I want to scream "what are we doing?! How does this look like Jesus???" Halo 3 may bring in a couple new church members, but it doesn't help put food on the tables of struggling families. Jesus spent as much time meeting the physical needs of people as he did the spiritual needs. The church today looks as if it's collapsed, having succumbed to American materialism and comfort. 

All that said, instead of doing something about it, I've retreated. I withdrew from my Baptist university and stopped attending church. I read books about people who share the same concerns as me, but they did something about it. They decided to "become the church they dreamed of" (roughly paraphrased from Shane Claiborne and others) instead of complaining. I just ran away. Problem is, now I don't know where to go. How do I become the church I dream of? I'm not even sure what that would look like. All I'm sure of is what it's not.