I’m currently in Indiana for a wedding this weekend. While driving yesterday, I took a couple of pictures I wanted to share.*
There she is sleeping…
And there I am getting caught.
Have a good weekend.
*yes, I posted these on Facebook and Instagram, but I’m trying to use this blog more for short, personal things as well.
Posted from WordPress for Android on my Droid X
Believe it or not, there was a time that I did not have sweet dance moves like this and this.
This is the story about my first slow-dance.
Anyone that grew up in a middle-school setting where the seasons and holidays were marked by school dances knows that to “slow dance” was a rite-of-passage experienced by a precious few. Primarily reserved for nerdy kids that “dated” each other and the “cool kids” that hooked up and “dated” each other, the “slow dance” was a beast that eluded me for most all of my middle school career.
I had spent 6th- and 7th-grades going to most of the dances, but not actually dancing. While reveling in the glory of Third Eye Blind, NSync, Creed, Jewel, Boys II Men and Savage Garden, I’d hang out with my friends, “make fun of” (read: jealously wish I was part of) those that had someone to slow dance with, and join in the chorus of yelling middle-schoolers that would enthusiastically supply the edited-out curse word in “Pretty Fly for a White Guy“.
I was the quintessential “that guy” in those situations: an awkward wallflower, terrified of girls and wearing bad Christian t-shirts, who would (no joke) stand next to and carry on conversations with my slow-dancing friends–while they were slow dancing (once, a teacher had to tell me to give the dancing couple some space).
Yes, like I said, I was that guy.
My good (online) friend Lore Ferguson (for whose site I recently guest-posted) just had an old post of her’s published on the site The High Calling. It’s called “Sleeping Alone” and it’s some of her meditations on the sustaining life of God in her singleness.
And wow, is it amazing. It’s raw, honest, unflinching, and gracious. Read it right now and then come back here. Here’s an excerpt:
Singleness is a beautiful thing and when I take account of the past decade I see a faithfulness to its beauty in my life in a way that only comes from grace, but I also see a succession of tiny funerals every step of the way. A cemetery full of them. Adventures I have had alone. Mornings I have woken alone. Moments I have reveled in alone. Each one bringing joy in its experience and mourning in its completion.
Life is meant to be shared and marriage is not the only way to share life, I know this, but the mystery of two flesh becoming one is a mingling that cannot be known by me, with my bed all to myself, 400 thread count sheets, open window, and quiet morning. And I mourn this.
This is a recent TED Talk given by Robyn O’Brien, the author of The Unhealthy Truth: How Our Food Is Making Us Sick – And What We Can Do About It. It’s on food. She makes a pretty compelling case for the “Real Food” movement, encouraging us to move towards “knowing” our food once again–it’s source, it’s farming method, and it’s distribution.
Now, this whole local, organic thing is a pretty big fad right now (and I’m as guilty as any for being an evangelist for it–even though I’m also a weak practitioner), but O’Brien’s perspective is different. She is a former Wall Street analyst, and so she spends her time not trying to belittle or demonize businesses who have a legal responsibility to maximize profits for their shareholders. Nor does she try and show how this perspective on food is inherently “better” or more “ethical” or “moral” (even though I might think so).
Instead, she shows how our current food system is–literally–killing us. There’s no sensationalism. No partisan backhands. No sarcasm. No exaggeration or twisting of facts; just a simple telling of her story of transition from a “normal” mom to her views today.
Ultimately, she shows how changing our food system could actually be best for our nation, both economically and politically.
On a personal note: I applaud this video, and yet I still find myself not following its suggestions (even as I’ve watched and read similarly-minded “exposes“, books, and documentaries). Nothing has been enough yet to actually change my habits. My main concern isn’t necessarily money or sourcing. Rather, it’s time. It takes time to plan, shop, and cook with intentionality and thought (or so I think).
I’m sure many of the readers of this blog will agree with the principles laid out in this video. If so, I want to hear from you. No. Actually, I need to hear from you. I need help in this. What’s your story? Do you follow these principles, even a little bit? What has worked? What hasn’t? Any tips for a time-bound (and probbably, more realistically, just lazy) twenty-something looking to reform his eating habits? Sound off below.
My fellow former-Westminsterian (and co-author of a book I plugged a few weeks ago), Jared Byas, just posted an incredible blog post on his blog, Seeking the Good & Claiming it for the Kingdom. The post is called “Why I Will Not Divorce the Bible” and he articulates in such clear prose and winsome graciousness many of the thoughts and perspectives I have when engaging the Bible and then turning to engage the world around me.
Byas writes about how Evangelicals and theological “progressives” both end up devaluing the Bible and not truly respecting it or being “married” to it. He does a great job of exposing the reductionism of both sides as they use various techniques to keep the Bible at arm’s length so they don’t really have to deal with it as it is. (I’ve written similarly before.)
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I’ve taken to doing Compline devotions before I go to sleep. In the Church tradition of praying the hours of the day, “Compline” is the word used to describe that twilight space at the completion of the day, between evening and morning. Prayers and devotions for Compline are usually meant to be done right before a person (or couple) goes to sleep (perhaps even done in bed–that’s where I do them).
These devotions have helped mitigate that tendency in myself (which I’ve written about before) to try and ignore the voices of both God and contemplation within my heart as I end my day. These beautiful prayers give me a space that forced me speak to and with God and cry for mercy.
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As of this moment, I’m heading with the lady and some of her friends to the Poconos, which, contrary to what I believed prior to two days ago, are in fact mountains in Pennsylvania, and not beach-laden islands off the coast of Jersey.
I thought this. Seriously.
See you Monday.
I’ve decided to take a few “blog vacation days” to slow down life a little. So, for the rest of this week, I won’t be posting anything. In the meantime–especially for all you newer readers out there–here is a list (from “the Site” page above) of some favorite posts of mine (and others) that I’ve posted here over the years. Enjoy, and may they serve you well. See you on Monday.
p.s. Is that photo above a little over-the-top or dramatic (full size here)? At the time, I wasn’t aware it was being taken, but now that it has been, is it fair game? Sound off in the comments below.
This past weekend, I had the honor of being at Duke Divinity’s baccalaureate for their graduating divinity students. It was a full-scale service (minus communion, and plus the hood ceremony for the graduates), complete with songs, prayers, and a homily.
And oh what a homily it was.
That night, Sam Wells, the (now former) dean of Duke Chapel, delivered his last ever message as dean. Late last year, he accepted the call to vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Fields in London, and this was the last homily he was to offer to these students he obviously loved so much. These final words to them were purposeful and intense, offering a handhold for each one of us in the muddy waters of life and vocation.
I pray these words impact you as they did me, and that you return to them often. You can view the message below, or check out Duke Chapel’s myriad of other ways to find and keep up with their messages. The message starts at 57:40 (the embedded video won’t jump to that time-mark automatically, but this link will take you right there if you don’t want to click around below).
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As promised, today Lore Ferguson, over at Sayable posted my second guest post on her blog, as she is on a sabbatical. My first post went up yesterday. Originally, Lore had asked me to write a post on grace. Ironically, this was the first post I wrote for her (almost an anti-grace article–even thought it’s really not). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Leave comments and, like I said yesterday, follow her blog. You won’t regret it. Here’s a preview of today’s post:
I grew up in a pretty stereotypical Evangelical setting, which led to a pretty stereotypical back-and-forth between guilt and self-righteousness. That is, until I heard the Gospel of radical Grace.
Many of us have this same story, where it has been so healing to hear that how God relates to us is not, in fact, based on our performance. Instead, everything necessary for God to be pleased with us has been accomplished on our behalf by his Son.
And so, in response to this, we fall in love with God’s Grace. We pray for it, long for it, and cry for it. We read books about it, write about it, and blog about it (I even did a five-part series on it myself). We try and speak it into others’ lives while trying to figure out why we don’t apply it to our own. We joyfully build our relationship with God on the glorious foundation of His Grace. It is fundamental, primary, and essential.
In short: we love Grace.
Imagine my surprise, then, as I fell in love with liturgy and forms of worship that were centuries-old, to begin noticing the utter lack of “grace” from the prayers and worship of the earliest saints.
There’s a very little-known (and little-promoted) homepage I’ve had for a couple of years now called “Prodigal Paul”. I’ve been unsure how to use it effectively (along with this site as well), so it’s mainly sat dormant with a bunch of pages of self-promotion that were both unnecessary and annoying (even to me). Further, it was made in Apple’s ill-fated (and oft-maligned) website-building program called iWeb, so I’ve always sort of hated the look.
Well, as I said earlier, I have a guest post on Lore Ferguson’s blog Sayable today and she links to that homepage as my “blog”. Knowing that many more people will be going there over the next couple of days due to my post, I decided to do a little overhaul of the page last night. Let me know what you think!
Here’s what it looked like before:
One of my favorite bloggers, Lore Ferguson of the blog Sayable, has taken a sabbatical from her writing for the month of May, and asked me to write a couple of guest posts on her site about grace. My first one is up today; the second will be up tomorrow (Update: the second post is up). Feel free to read my and comment there. And be sure to follow her blog. She’s an amazing writer that can find God and beauty in the most seemingly mundane of things. Here’s a taste of my post today (it touches on some similar ideas as yesterday’s post):
Pharisees grumble: why do you eat with sinners?
He tells them a story about a lost coin and the joy one has when they find it. He then goes on to tell similar stories about a lost lamb and a lost son.
We love to jump from the coin to the lamb and the son, but Jesus says something very interesting between those sections. He reminds the Pharisees of a central truth to the heart of God:
“there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine persons who need no repentance.” (lk15.7)
Did you catch that? He doesn’t say: “there’s more joy over one sinner who repents over ninety-nine that do not repent.” He focuses not on our action, but on our need.
It seems there is more joy in the heart of God over his creation needing forgiveness than if it had never needed forgiveness at all. God takes joy in forgiving and being gracious, but this implies there needs to be sin to graciously forgive.
Perhaps our sin can be good news to God.
Question: What’s the longest word in the world?
Answer: the word is “smiles”, because between the two s’s, there’s a mile.
That’s a joke I was told by my father in the parking lot of a Home Depot when I was really young. I have no idea why I remember it, but it’s an appropriate place to begin when talking about the work of Arielle Passenti, a local Philadelphia artist whose thesis exhibition I got to see at the University of the Arts a couple of weeks ago.
I was able to purchase the work that you see at the top of this post. Today, I just wanted to share that piece, some of her other pieces, and my thoughts with all of you.
Last night I had the privilege of going to a book talk and signing by Ross Douthat (a new hero of mine), promoting his new book Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics. It was, more or less, a summary of the book’s primary lines of argumentation, followed by a Q&A.
The book itself (which I am only half-way through) lays out some pretty provocative ideas that are sure to ruffle the sentiments of most anyone that finds themselves securely in allegiance with either of the left-right poles of society. I have yet to find someone who sits in ambivalence concerning this book. It evokes. It calls out. It leads to introspection and reaction. You either love it, or you hate it.
This is further complicated by the times we live in. In a world of blogs, podcasts, comment boxes, and the online immediacy of opinion, there is an unspoken and unrealistic expectation of comprehensiveness in any person’s expression of thought. There was a time where an author would write a book, others would write whole books in response, and then the original author would respond with a follow-up book. This process then moved on to newspapers and magazines (the Federalist Papers come to mind).
This blog’s first-ever post was on December 6, 2004. As of today, seven-and-a-half years later, on May 1st, 2012, I have posted 500 posts. Out of the 86,400 visitors this site has had over those years, 1/3 of them have happened in this year alone, so I’m looking forward to this site’s continued maturation and growth. And it’s all because of you! Thank you all for reading, commenting, challenging, and encouraging me throughout the years. Here’s to 500 more!
Bonus life-changing video:
the long way home 