Category Archives: personal

mission accomplished

From a student paper:

Contemporary Christian Theology seems like such an academic topic, I was a sophomore, and my faith was incredibly new. I walked in, looked at the class, and saw I was way in over my head. But, as this class ended up teaching me, as well as the blog, I was completely in the right place allowing the spirit to work through me. Words like eschatology, Christology, and pneumatology were words that I never thought I’d grasp, but what I came to learn was that these concepts were ideas already stemmed within in me and were things that I had views on . It was amazing to hear different denominations’ viewpoints as well as speak on Catholicism as I haven’t really have not had the opportunity to share it in biblical studies and Christian theology classes before. Perhaps what I most understood through this class was the idea that theology isn’t about knowing everything, it is about using your life, understanding each other’s views, and knowing that at the end of the day, like everything, it is about Christ.

The class is Contemporary Christian Theology, a gen ed I teach at APU. I’m not sure I would have phrased it like this, but this does come close to my goal. And that I’m teaching students who are not going into further theology studies or ministries is even better. I translated academic theology in a way that helped. That’s something. Maybe not everything, but it’s something.

We’ll see where God leads in my pursuit of communicating all of this. My contract with APU was only for a year, and they are looking for someone with different background for next year (and the permanent position). So after this next semester? Do you need a theologian? Maybe it’s not only academia that needs more theologians… Maybe that’s part of the problem in a lot of respects.

For now, and for this season of life, I’m learning a lot in this present foray of academia (the positives and the negatives) and it is encouraging to know I’m helping others learn as well. What will the next season hold during this time of continued wilderness?

I await the Promised Land, keep walking forward, find strength and hope in the face of discouraging news, find renewal and encouragement in hearing very positive affirmation from others. I’m tired, to be honest, but the cloud hasn’t rested yet, so I, we as a family, seek what God has in store, further up and further in.

To live is Christ.

Posted in ministry, personal, speaking, teaching, theology | Leave a comment

Me and Tommy Jefferson

Big Five Personality Test

Out of 25 U.S. Presidents, you are the most like …

Thomas Jefferson

“I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage, with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post which any human power can give.”

Compared to the general population, you are:

  • Low on Extroversion, indicating that you are an introvert who prefers calm environments to large social gatherings.
  • High on Openness, indicating that you are very impatient with the way things are and always on the look for the new, the untested, and the untried.
  • Average on Agreeableness, indicating that you alternate between being tenderhearted in some situations and tough-minded in others.
  • Average on Conscientiousness, indicating that you take a balanced approach between sticking to plans and deadlines and being flexible about updating your current goals.
  • Low on Neuroticism, indicating that you are relaxed, cool under pressure, and not shy about presenting yourself or your ideas.

According to a study done by Jeffery J. Mondak, Ph.D., your scores indicate that you are:

  • Not likely to discriminate on the basis of race or sexual orientation.
  • More likely to be pro-choice rather than pro-life.
  • Likely to feel trapped by the status quo.
  • Likely to enjoy complex and abstract discussions.
  • Likely to be more knowledgeable on academic topics.
  • Less likely to have a tolerant attitude towards smoking.
  • More likely to favor harsh criminal punishments over milder ones.
  • Less likely to watch TV and read the news, preferring instead to follow your own interests.
  • Less likely to mobilize your friends in your own interests, preferring instead to immerse yourself in your interests in solitude.
  • Someone who seems impassive to others, while being in fact quite sure of your own views.
  • More likely to enjoy fitness training and physical exercise.
  • More likely to nurture a few select beliefs that you regard as settled in stone.
  • Less likely to flirt with harm and danger.
  • Less likely to have insurance or to belong to a labor union.

According to a study done by Jayme Neiman, Ph.D., your scores indicate that you are:

  • More likely than the average person to enjoy bitter vegetables like broccoli and arugula.
Posted in personal | 2 Comments

Why Ravens?

Ravens are important in many cultures and harbingers in more than one religion. It  is not hard to see why. Anyone who has spent a moment listening or watching must be struck with curiosity at what these aerial acrobats are about.  two ravensThey are among the most intelligent of birds. They are social, and talkative, with a complex language that shows regional dialects. Few animals show as much love for their own abilities as these birds. They fly, and they are aware how cool it is they do so. Drifting on a warm updraft, diving through a valley, riding the wind of battered air in storms and fire, wrestling with each other midair, they exult in their mastery of the sky.

A pagan site speaks of these totemic birds:

If a raven totem has come into our life, magic is at play. Raven activates the energy of magic and links it to our will and intention. With this totem, we can make great changes in our life; the ability to take the unformed thought and make it reality. The raven shows us how to go into the dark of our inner self and bring out the light of our true self; resolving inner conflicts which are long been buried. This is the deepest power of healing we can possess.

Though a mish-mash of do it yourself religions, this speaks of distant understandings, held by many peoples throughout time.

Norse mythology, of course, prominently features two ravens, companions of Odin, bearers of knowledge and information. Thought and memory is the meaning of their names. They are the embodied soul of the All-Father, whispering from his shoulder the goings on of the wider world. The Edda, an epic Norse poem, states:

The whole earth over, every day, hover Hugin and Munin; I dread lest Hugin droop in his flight, yet I fear me still more for Munin.

Because of these constant companions Odin has been called the Raven god.

This he is not.


Long before the Norse laid claim to mystical tales and the gold of other lands, the God of Israel revealed himself to be Lord and protector of all, even the ravens.

“He gives to the animals their food,” Psalm 147:9 reads, “and to the young ravens when they cry.”

“Who provides for the raven its prey,” God asks Job rhetorically, “when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?”

He was answering Job out of the storm in chapter 38, replying to Job’s complaints not by direct answers, but by showing his character and power.

In return ravens served the God of Israel. Noah sent out a raven, which flew back and forth until the water had dried up from the earth. Ravens being what they are, it appears this one left the constraints of the boat for its own tasks. A dove was the next messenger, the one which came back.

The prophet Elijah ran into many troubles as he spoke the words of God to those who did not want to listen. He had power over wind and rain, and God had power over him. Savoldo Elijah Fed by the RavenA drought began, which parched the land.

In chapter seventeen of 1 Kings we read:

Then the word of the LORD came to Elijah: Leave here, turn eastward and hide in the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan River. You will drink from the brook, and I have ordered the ravens to feed you there.

So, he did what the LORD had told him. He went to the Kerith valley, east of the Jordan, and stayed there. The ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook.


This is a website for those who now live near the Kerith, a place where water rushes through a narrow valley. God is calling many back as his own, and in doing this places them for a time in the midst of the wilderness, with drought and famine all around. There is water to drink, if it is sought, and food to eat by God’s gracious hand.

Many paths in this world lead onwards, but only one leads to the end. One travels with a goal in mind, and only those paths which take one to the expected end have perfect merit. There is only one path, the Way. Yet, along this path many sights are shared.

Forgotten views are highlighted elsewhere. Other paths may intersect, leading to their own interesting sights. Some travel far along, others stop very short. So, while there is only one way to the end, all others are worth consideration. For like the tale of ravens they remind us of our own stories, pointing us back to forgotten truths.

The Christian faith is ancient, laying claim to its history and the history of the Jewish people prior to the coming of the Messiah. The modern representations have lost much of the purview, limiting to specific words and angrily repulsing other voices. All truth is God’s truth. All those who hear truth, hear Yeshua. The Spirit moves wide and broad, teaching, reaching, grasping, enlightening. With an eye on the goal, and an open ear to hear the words which others speak, we walk together along the Way.

Moses knew this path. Into the wilderness and out he led the people, fully committed to the word of God, fully dedicated to the One who saves. To Hobab, son of Reuel the Midianite, he said this:

We are on our way to the Promised land. Come with us and we will treat you well, for the LORD has given wonderful promises to Israel! But Hobab replied, No, I will not go. I must return to my own land and family. Please don’t leave us, Moses pleaded. You know the places in the wilderness where we should camp. Come, be our guide and we will share with you all the good things that the LORD does for us.

RaveninflightNot of the people of God, but welcomed. Hobab knew what they did not, and could assist. In return, should he add his wisdom to their promises he would receive ‘good things.’ So we stand firm in our faith, with a listening ear and open mind to the work of the Spirit beyond our own understanding, trusting that it is he who draws people more than we. And thus we continue on the Way, trusting God will send ravens to bring food, everyday.
 

I wrote this about 6 or 7 years ago and it’s been a page on my website, though one rarely visited.  As I prepare for this new year, and all it entails, I thought it a fitting way as I renew my focus and thoughts.

Posted in personal, theology, writing | 2 Comments

Finding roots when rootless

I’m feeling distinctively rootless these days. I’ve graduated my PhD program. But I don’t have a full time job. We’re living in a place that has a lot of benefits, mostly related to relative quiet, but a fair amount of inconveniences–one bedroom, no air conditioning, meaning it’s particularly inconvenient (okay, fairly miserable) when it is hot and particularly unsettled when I think about Vianne’s situation (we’ve made a space for her, but it’s not something that can be useful for too much longer).

I work a fair amount, teaching a number of classes, but no job security or expectations are offered by either Fuller or Azusa. Meaning I work quarter by quarter, not able to plan. We had to change pediatricians, because California ended its great program for kids in families with limited means, and cast everyone onto Medicare, which is accepted by a significantly smaller amount of doctors. Amy and I have very minimal benefits, enough to get us in a hospital but not something that encourages anything near checkups or minor issues (I get very Pentecostal again when I lack good insurance…). My car had an overheating problem when we came back from our trip last week, as a sixteen year old Honda Civic coupe, this isn’t surprising. It’s already too small for more than two people, but it’s the car we have and the car that gets us to the places we need to be.

My PhD was paid for entirely by fellowships, which were renewed each year based on my performance. Each year they were renewed, yet each year was a feeling of persistent rootlessness. Would this be the last year, I wondered each year. Yet, thankfully, it lasted to the end. My M.Div, however, wasn’t so finely funded. Loans are due and after 12 years in higher education, there’s still loans from my undergraduate days. Repayment now looms very strongly as there’s no PhD program offering refuge anymore.Sailing near San Pedro

There are no job postings in my field, not ones that fit my background and training. Yet, there is little more I could have done better in light of my finishing. Dissertation passed with Distinction (the highest rating), 4.0 GPA throughout, dissertation manuscript accepted for publication by Fortress Press, good evaluations on my teaching at Fuller and APU.

With all that, I am cast into the whims and fancies of the academic world, with only occasional retirements and the small possibility of created new positions offering a modicum of hope that there’s something more permanent than being caught in the adjunct vortex.

Then there’s church, a church we’re members at, a church we started attending because in the midst of a long church shopping after being married, that was the one that provoked a “yes” in each of our souls. It’s a big church, though, and we’re not big church people. It’s a church far away. And I’m increasingly interested in a holistic experience that allows my church community to be in, with, and among my actual community.

I wrote a dissertation on that, after all. It’s something I not only desire, but can provide a nauseating amount of theological justification for, and back it up with practical examples. Every time I drive to church I feel rootless, a church led by a great staff, with some wonderful people, yet located in an upper-middle class neighborhood that is a 1/2 hour freeway drive from where we live. That’s not to say everyone there is enjoying the bounty of a fully realized American Dream, but many are. My car is almost always the worst in the lot.

Amy is a full time mom, a choice we made together, following the passion of her heart and what she feels God is leading her to do. Which I honor and celebrate, especially as I see everyday the boon that is Vianne, and the intelligence and strong personality that she has. Having Amy around her is a great benefit. But it has costs, the costs of trying to live on my adjunct salary in the middle of one of the higher cost of living regions.

We don’t know where to go. We don’t how to be where we are at. I’m feeling especially rootless, not only because of my present but because I’ve been in a wilderness mode of life since, by my estimation, I was 9. Lots of opportunities and experiences, continually uprooted, tossed hither and thither, never finding roots, never having what I would call a home of my own.

Recently, this rootlessness has become fairly exhausting. It’s nothing horrible. There are a lot worse stories out there. Like a perpetual drop of water, however, it digs deep and becomes distracting. I’m tired of it.

Yet, there is nothing but to keep pressing on.

Lest this sound like a litany of my present complaints, know that’s not the reason for my writing all of it. Writing is my way of renewal, a way of release, a way of searching for light by sketching out what is in my mind. And this, thus, is not a litany of complaints, left for their own sake, as though I’m leaving my rancid trash on the side of the road in order to clear my head. No. I list these because I want to express my context. I didn’t just graduate with a PhD, I graduated with a PhD in Christian Systematic Theology.

Which offers the challenge. I cannot simply gripe and whine, making a list of my complaints or challenges and leave them at that. Because in the midst of all those complaints is also a work of God. And I can list those as well. Works of God that led me, and then with Amy, into the choices and situations that are resulting in these challenges.

Writing is my way of renewal, and maybe by sketching out my thoughts on this rootlessness, seeking wisdom for my own sense of self and purpose — even as I continue to seek real, palpable answers — I can find myself walking with others who are rootless in similar or distinctive ways.

Then a teacher of the law came to him and said, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.”

Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

I sought God. Now I feel rootless. That shouldn’t be surprising. But it is tiresome at this moment in time as I think about how to best support my family.

I seek God. I hope for rootedness.

Curiously, I originally sat down to write a little bit on my ideas about a missional community, one that I may want to get going when, and if, I ever find myself in a place of at least relative permanence (defined as having some commitment to stay for at least a year, rather than constantly aware we could move wherever a full-time job is found). I think that’s where I’ll keep musing, even as it was likely good for me to share my theological situation at first.kayaking on LA

Theology has never been about musing for musing sake. It was the road I took when I had significant challenges and sought “the ancient paths, where the good way lies.” Now with letters after my name there’s the challenge to keep it this way, and maybe, just maybe, by walking this road openly I can be a help to others on this path, the rootless, the dislocated, those who seek God in the midst of challenging questions, where they feel there is no way but forward, and there is no way possible to go forward.

That’s the place I’m at. And in the rootlessness I feel the shadows of despair rising, seeking to choke me, ruin me. Stronger -sometimes just barely stronger- is the substance of hope, that hope that has shocked me and surprised me, leading me to take the steps that led me farther up and further in. Holding onto that hope has led me through transformation in every part of my life, but there’s more yet to be transformed. The shadows thicken, reminding me how many ways I yet need Christ in my life, and his people.

From this, my theology and missional musings proceed.

Posted in How Long?, musings, personal, spirituality, theology | 1 Comment

Truth, Beauty, and Yodeling Pickles

Peter, “It’s just a bit of silliness really.”
JM Barrie, “I should hope so.”

~from the movie, Finding Neverland

There’s something about theology and ministry that makes me serious. Now, that’s not a comment about how seriously I take it, or these are topics of great concern that merit only very serious attitudes.

It’s more that these topics, for whatever reason, seem to cause a shift in my personality. I become very serious. Don’t believe me? Read this blog. It’s very serious, mind-crushingly serious, alienatingly serious. I can’t even remember the last whimsical post I wrote here. I can’t remember, for that matter, the last whimsical anything I wrote. I try to post on what I’m thinking about, but since this is an entirely sporadic blog (liberally sprinkled with “sorry I haven’t written for awhile” sort of posts), I’m not really even sure what the goal of this blog is and it’s certainly not a cross section of what I usually am thinking about.

This has become my serious side. It’s the side of me that doesn’t let itself out in most social situations, and the side of me that, for whatever reason, is both an integral part of who I am and the choices I have made, yet I don’t express in other situations.

Remember the pensieve from Harry Potter? It allowed one to store memories, pulling them out like threads then storing them in a bowl.

This blog, and writing in general of late, has been my pensieve for seriousness. Scroll down, read the earlier posts. Very serious stuff. The writing at least. The pictures are more about beauty.

Truth and beauty, that’s the stuff of life, yeah?

Only for the longest time whenever I’ve had to describe myself or add a tagline I’ve used the phrase “a lover of truth, beauty and occasionally silliness”.

That really does sum up my personality. Only there has been a plain lack of occassionally silliness in my writing. And honestly, I miss it. I’ve been thinking for a while about how to get it back in but, of course, as my main writing task these days is my dissertation and dissertations are, as a rule, especially soul-crushingly serious even within the already serious genre of academic writing, I’ve not a lot of mental space for indulging my whimsy.

I say I don’t have a lot of mental space for whimsy, but isn’t it a matter of making space?

Did I post that part of my dissertation, the part I talked about making space is a significant part of our relationship with God and with others, not only something we do but something that reflects the image of God? I don’t feel like looking now, because that’s tedious, and as there’s few things more serious than tedium, I’m going to dodge looking for the requisite link.

Making space is good. But making space for whimsy and silliness? That’s something the desert monastics would certainly scold me about. Such a serious lot. And the trouble is that I have long taken them very seriously so while I disagree with their scowling about laughter and fun, I realize that there’s was often a depth of spirituality that I, in my best moments, really would love to discover. Maybe my blog has become an unintended reflection of my inner suspicions that theology and the Christian life really are, and should be, quite serious endeavors.

“A hermit saw someone laughing, and said to him, “We have to render an account of our whole life before heaven and earth, and you can laugh?”

That’s from the Desert Fathers. Not all those desert monastic really knew God, but the ones quoted in that book did, and much more than I do.

And yet… to a person, every mature Christian I’ve met or heard speak in person–those whose walks with God are deeper and longer and more thorough than my own–have a sense of humor. That’s always high on a list of relationship ideals, right, that the other person has a sense of humor? That was a big part of my attraction to Amy. She made me laugh.

“And you can laugh?” Yeah, I think so. Precisely because we have to render an account. And there are parts of my rendering that will be, to be sure, pretty ludicrous in the re-telling.

Theology and the Christian life are serious, to be sure, so merit a degree of somber interaction. However, when it comes down to it, both are also pretty ludicrous. We’re trying to come up with words that describe the creator and sustainer and ultimate identity of the universe, who we say is one but also three, God but also man, but not just a man, a man that isn’t like other men but is so much like other men that our very orthodoxy is dependent on testifying that this man is a man as much as other men but not like other men in all sorts of pretty specific ways, like the fact that he didn’t sin and like the fact that even though God incarnated as a man, this man didn’t exhaust all the identity of God even though he was fully God in every way, but since we also have the Father–who was with but not identical with this man, but be careful about using qualifying identical because then you have three gods instead of one; and this third one, or part or mode or person (but not separate person, more of an identity within the threeness of the oneness) is tricky because it’s not really a person, only it is, but more of a wind, or a breath, or a tempest, or a bird? or maybe a force but also a person because our trinity needs three persons and isn’t the beginning of a joke in which a son, a father, and ghost walk into a bar. So, the man died, really died, but didn’t die because he was raised from the dead and is now alive but not alive with us, with the Father, and with us in Spirit–which isn’t a pretty phrase meaning we’re thinking about him but he’s literally with us in Spirit–only to return again at some point which is always just about to happen for the last 1988 years or so.

I could go on and on. But you get the point. There’s an inherent ludicrous quality about theology that sort of inspires a bit of snickering when anyone tries to take it too seriously.

Yet people are very intent about taking it too seriously and if you don’t take it seriously they’ll be the first to remind you how serious to take it. But what do they know?

Really, all that seriousness is about trying to cope with the fact that much of theology, and much of our lives, and much of reality in general is ludicrous. Not because it’s meaningless. But because the meaning is so complex and intricate that our attempts to package it up in brown paper with neat little bows is ludicrous.

And because, I think, God has a sense of humor too, so whimsy is embedded in Creation. Our recognition of it is not dodging the main points of life, it’s indulging in them, recognizing and interacting with the world in a way that doesn’t take it as serious as many people want us to take it.

Finding the silliness, exploring the whimsy, letting go the absoluteness that seriousness seeks to impose, isn’t just a distraction. It is, I increasingly believe, part of our participation with God, part of recognizing the world for what it is–a ludicrous sort of place–seeing the contradictions and complexities as often displaying the ludicrous reality in which we now live.

Laughter is good medicine not because it’s a placebo, but because it helps us see the world rightly once more. Whimsy gives us perspective. And inasmuch as it does, it is, I think, holy.

“And you can laugh?” Yeah, I think so. Because we don’t just render an account our sins. We celebrate our salvation, and that is a feast, a joyous event, a reflection of the fact that this God, the God, our God, takes us seriously but not that seriously. He thinks us ludicrous too, and is willing to rectify our faults because of his love for us, not because we deserve it, because we’ve proven how serious we are about our salvation, but because he wants to. So he does. Ludicrous as it is, God saves us. It’s his whimsy to save the world. God is holy and God saves, becoming one of us so that we can participate with him. Foolish and scandalous as this might be, that’s what he does. And it makes me laugh, because it’s so thoroughly good.

Truth, beauty and occasionally silliness aren’t just a tagline, after all. They’re how I define holiness because they are how I see God’s identity expressed in this world.

They are, as such, also the expressions of love.

Which is, I think, what theology should also be about. Certainly it’s what I want to be about, and I think finding the whimsy and humor again in my writing is a necessary part of my becoming a more developed theologian.

A theologian who is always serious doesn’t really know God.

I could go on and on, writing serious words about whimsy and bogging down in existential introspection about my own identity as a theologian and the seriousness of silliness as part of the theological project. But, that would be ludicrous, so instead, let us end with this, a yodeling pickle.

This post is part of the May Synchroblog. Here’s a list of other participants in this month’s bit of silliness:

Posted in academia, contemplation, missional, musings, personal, silliness, theology | 13 Comments

Vianne Rose Oden

Well, we had an eventful Easter weekend. On Good Friday, we got a call from the doctors office telling us that some of Amy’s tests had come back elevated, so we had to go to the hospital for more tests. The doctor on call (our doctor was on vacation) strongly suggested inducing, as Amy was at about 38 weeks and the tests suggests a few possible concerns, some quite major. Both mom and baby were still healthy, so it seemed better to keep it this way by delivering.

That started Friday evening, progressed all throughout Saturday. I got a little rest overnight, Amy hardly any. Amy had an epidural about 8 on Saturday night, we thought we would have a better sleep as it moved along, delivering well into Easter.

Well, we were both woken up at 11:45 by nurses who had noticed the heart beat was lower, a possible sign the baby was on her way. And so she was. Shocking to Amy and to the nurses, and to me who woke up hearing “Call the doctor, the baby is coming very soon.” I woke up pretty quick.

Amy started pushing around 12:30. At 12:43 am on April 8, 2012 – Easter Sunday – we welcomed a very alert and very interactive Vianne Rose Oden into the world.

Both baby and Amy are doing quite well. We finally came home yesterday afternoon. Thanks so much to the wonderful nurses at Arcadia Methodist who helped ease a time of pain and anxiety before the delivery, and then who helped us find our way as we became parents for the first time. Thanks to Dr. Walker who took care of us right at first, worked behind the scenes during the inducement, and who was very kind and skilled at the delivery.

And most of all thanks be to God for a wonderful, beautiful, healthy baby girl.

Some details for those who are interested: She was born 5 pounds 13 ounces, 17 3/4 inches long, and blonde hair (showing her Oden genes, as with both Amy and me only my dad’s side of the family has blonde hair).

Now some pictures:

Oh, and the name comes from the movie Chocolat, we heard it and both liked it right away. It’s pronounced Vi- as in the letter, and Anne as in Anne.

Posted in Amy, around the house, personal, pictures, three beautiful things, Vianne | 4 Comments

Noticing

We have been going pretty non-stop since we moved. Just about every day something was going on; more for Amy than for me, but often for me. As much as I have been trying to settle in, the last two weeks really were more frenzied than peace-filled. Amy hasn’t even had a chance to find peace here with all that has been going on.

We slowed down yesterday, finishing up putting boxes away and finally feeling like we were here. Yesterday was our yellow light. Today was our red. Today, we stopped. Had blueberry pancakes. Watched a movie. Then we sat outside. The first time Amy has sat out there for any length of time longer than five minutes. I’ve worked out there before today, but only for a couple hour stretches. Today, we had lunch out there and stayed until it got cold and dusk. Enjoyed the breeze. Enjoyed the sun. Enjoyed the birds and the squirrels. I even enjoyed the worms that were surprised when I turned over a loose piece of sod.

We stopped. We rested. We recovered a little bit of our focus and much of our soul.

This is a little bit of what I noticed today:


Posted in around the house, birds, personal, pictures | 1 Comment

Happy New Year!

The New Year is upon us.

I’m not a very sentimental person, as you may have noticed, so while I would have loved to write a post looking back on the wonderful year that was 2011, it just doesn’t rise out of me. Despite my being a burgeoning historian, I don’t tend to dwell on my own personal history, spending most of my mental life anywhere from one week to ten years ahead of where I actually am. Maybe I have a wee retrospective in my at some point soon, especially as I’m gearing up for getting into a whole lot of writing again.

Here are a few small things that I am looking forward to in 2012:

1) Moving at least twice.
2) Writing, finishing and, ideally, turning in my dissertation.
3) Having our first baby.

These three are not exactly mutually exclusive, but they’re not really mutually conducive.

But I have hope. And more than hope, faith, and more than faith, love — for all three of these events and for the one I am sharing my life with throughout these events, and for the family on both sides that support, pray, and come alongside us. And for the building friendships that resonate from my past, from school, from church.

I look forward to 2012 with a lot of building excitement for the known, and unknown, possibilities. May God be with us in each moment and each movement!

Posted in holidays, personal | 2 Comments

Stay in Your Cell

Something I wrote just about six years ago:

“Stay in your cell and your cell will teach you everything.”

So says a desert father. Well, more than one. It’s a theme which runs through the deep spiritual writings of the centuries.

Don’t go anywhere. Stay where you are at. Do not distract yourself. Do not engage in things which offer a false sustenance. Engage the soul by shutting off the soul’s propensity for diversion. Do not seek answers elsewhere, for they are within.

The answers are within, coming from the Spirit who is within. This is not self-empowerment, this is self-weakening, self-loosening, self-forgetting.

Stay in your cell and your cell will teach you everything.

Everything?

Only if you stay in your cell. These monks were not talking about a weekend or a week. They spoke in terms of years and decades. The human soul does not, they knew, need continually more input. It needs to realize itself, the beautiful and the gruesome within, and by recognizing itself it can only then begin to recognize that which is outside of itself.

This lesson hits me again this week, though I think it is something that has been lingering in the back of my consciousness for a fair while. It’s a different lesson of sorts than back in 2005 because I’m in an entirely different kind of cell. Back then, I was living in the mountains, where there was beauty all around. It wasn’t idyllic to be sure as there was also a neighbor who spent just about my entire time up there doing do it yourself home remodeling, taking his apparent frustrations at life out against his vacation home. There was also the fact I was living with my parents at the time. Which while a saving situation for me, no doubt, was also immensely humbling and never quite amenable to the sorts of pure solitude those monks experiences.

Now, I’m married. Now I’m also living in a place neither one of us like. It is concrete everywhere, noise constantly, no view of mountains or vistas, one tree in sight and it right in front of the window of far too nearby neighbors. We’re surrounded on every side by the busyness of seminary people, a particular franticness of zeal, youth, new independence, continued quest for a more secure reality, making it not entirely like living in a dorm, but near enough to the same experience that I’m constantly buffeted by the extroversion of others.

I hated living in a dorm. I still do. I love my present roommate, but would like to have more space around us.

Ever since I was young I feel the presence of others. There’s both a sense quality to this, as when I’m engaged in work I become hyper sensitive to distractions that pop me out of my thinking zone. And I’m enough of a Pentecostal still to know that I’m also very spiritually sensitive. For a Thinker (INTJ) like myself, this sounds weird when I say it to others, but it’s not a matter of feeling. Whenever I take any of those spiritual gift sorters I score high on discernment, I really do feel sensitive to the spiritual realities around me, and when I’m constantly around people I’m constantly on edge with what’s going on.

I think it’s probably best to describe it a bit like a TV antenna. I pick up on all the signals, though I am not always able to tune into something clearly. And when there are a lot of signals, I feel a lot of static in my life.

Which is a gift to offer the church, but it’s also something, I know, that needs a break. That’s why I so value getting space from people, so that I’m away from the signals for just a little while, and in doing that its helps be find focus so that I can contribute to people when I’m more actively engaged.

But here? Here in Pasadena I don’t have that option. I never wanted to move back here. There’s frenzy and chaos all around, even as I know the people around me here really are good people who, for the most part, are genuinely seeking God. It’s not them, I know, it’s me.

Though, I do have to say it’s also sometimes them. Noise is a way of exclaiming meaning to the world, and those not long out of college tend to want to really find their meaning. So, there’s not really a value of silence.

Oh, to have a monastic complex here at Fuller, where silence was taken seriously as a spiritual boon.

But that’s not what Fuller cares about. We are told to put up with the noise of others, to feel bad when we feel frustrated, to let their barbaric yawps be sounded without complaint.

This is the cell I live in now. This is, I know, where God has me.

So, I can let it get to me, right and orderly frustration at being constantly bombarded by the antics of others. Or I can somehow draw close to that which I wrote in 2005. If I stay here, I can learn everything.

That goes against all the frustration I feel this week. How can I learn when there is constantly someone or something intruding themselves into my space?

Clearly I’ve not learned everything. And I’m here until probably at the very least next June; with both of us working on campus this year it is replacing one set of frustrations with others for us to find another place.

The frenzy is in my own soul now too. I’ve nurtured it and encouraged it, letting my yearning for my ideal learning place undermine the learning in this place. Certainly there are real reasons it has happened, but there are also reasons that are inside me that I’ve given excuses for.

It’s a species of acedia, I now realize, that oft forgotten sin that I’m particularly susceptible to.

The ancient monastics talk alot about that too. I have some texts right over there, on the bookshelf behind my desk.

Maybe I need to get back to reading those, to see again what this cell has to teach me. What God has to teach me by having me here in this place I do not like. Maybe it is a teaching that helps me become someone that God likes more, becoming more in tune with him so that I can live more in tune with this world.

That sounds like everything to me.

Posted in 500, personal, sins, spirituality | Leave a comment

Oden Fest 2011

This past Saturday, Amy and I had our first shared creative event. We celebrated my book release and her CD release at Two Rivers Church in Oak Grove, Oregon. I’m hoping to post some more pictures and such from the event. For now here is a recording of the entire event, for your listening pleasure:

Posted in Amy, audio, emerging theology, Exodus, God We Wouldn't Expect, Holy Spirit, How Long?, It's a Dance, Jesus, missional, personal, professional, religion | 3 Comments