A friend of a friend of my little sister's called me tonight and started crying.
We had talked in the past because she struggled with depression and some other things.
She said she couldn't get a hold of someone else who she usually calls (She had been calling me throughout the week but I hadn't been able to return the call). She then told me she was thinking about killing herself.
I ended up talking to her for around a half hour and doing what I could. I told all these things she was thinking about doing might give her a high or numb her but they wouldn't really help her. I tried to reason with her about stuff that was stressing her out (like finals tomorrow) and how those things weren't as important as her mental health.
I gave her some healthy advice (Go to the emergency room) because I'm not a psychologist and I can only do so much for her. I told her this, but she even admitted to being stubborn and not listening to people trying to help her. (She'd been hospitalized before for some kind of mental illness and would 'never go back because being there made her go more crazy'.)
I told her that I didn't know what else I could do for her if she didn't listen to me. I can't help her like she needs. I told her to call me again if she needed to.
And here's where I'm at with it all: I don't know her well enough to know if this was for real or if it was just to get some attention. I tried not to get emotionally involved (something I'm guessing good counselors do) and stay calm and try to feel her out. I called my sister (someone she kind of knows and is in the geographical vicinity) to see if she knew of someone to check on this girl.
I'm thinking that maybe she wasn't for real. I did what I could to help her and then called others who might be able to help her better.
If you guys want to pray, her name is Shana and she's in Dayton, OH.
Anyone with counseling experience, what's you professional opinion?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Kierkegaard; Depression Series # 8 - Giving Up on Answers...
Kierkegaard on obedience:
"Oh God, teach me so deeply to understand myself that I may understand how utterly impossible it is to be satisfied with the mere fact that I am master of my own destiny, and that there is no satisfaction and joy and happiness for a person except obedience."
On Passion:
"Longing is the umbilical cord of the higher life."
"It is a great question whether those whom God cannot make mad have ever really existed for God."
"Authentic religion has to do with passion, with having passion. Sadly, there are thousands who take a little something out of religion, and then dispassionately "have religion."
- All quotes taken from Provocations ( a best of collection of Kierkegaard's spiritual writings.
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Depression Series # 8
Giving Up On Answers And Suspending Judgment
I finished God in the Dark by Os Guiness this week and was humbled and changed. Reading Guiness’ answer to the question of ‘Why, O Lord?’ put something into words that I had been struggling with for a while. It was an idea that helped me deal with the suicide of a friend a year and a half ago.
Clark Stacy killed himself in March of ’05 while I was still a crime reporter in Chicago. Two years prior at Moody, I was his resident assistant but kept up with him after I graduated. I was naturally shocked when I heard the news on my way to work the overnight shift.
During a lull around 2 a.m., I did what I could to corroborate the news. I found online the small newspaper in Tennessee that ran his obituary the day after the suicide. I instantly thought of what I could do to find out more. I could look up the local medical examiner, hospital, or sheriff’s office. A friend had called me to fill me in but any news story had to be corroborated. I had to get the facts myself.
An hour later, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get any info. Why would anyone from small-town Tennessee talk to some small newswire reporter from Chicago? And if this was a suicide, no one would be talking about it anyway. I considered all the other roadblocks to getting information. I also considered my need to direct a sole reporter to best cover the city for the next 7 hours.
I stopped trying to find answers through reportorial means. Instead, for about two months I turned to the community that he and I used to be part of: Moody Bible Institute. I went to a sort of memorial chapel, talked to his friends still there and then listened to some crazy drama involving professors at MBI and Clark’s parents.
The man who counseled Clark at MBI was just as dumbfounded. I didn’t ask, but the counselor gave me his professional opinion (which I wasn’t going to ask about for obvious reasons). I felt privileged that he told me what he did but I still couldn’t figure out why it all happened.
More months went by and I gave up trying to find answers. My anger burned out and I knew that I would never have the answer that I wanted. I was just going to have to accept that and somewhere in the back of my head, try to accept that God was all that I was taught he was.
And then comes Guiness to tell me this:
“It is difficult to hold an impersonal universe personally responsible, and nothing less than personal responsibility will do. The only remaining option is to call God to the bar and charge him with the injustice of suffering that is otherwise inexplicable. Through doubt we can get even with God.”
So where does that leave me? What am I to do? Believe that God is good?
Guiness told me that “To suspend judgement on why something is happening is not the same as denying that something is happening. The former is faith, the latter is repression, which should have no part in the Christian faith.”
His idea is that you don’t know why but you can know why you trust God who knows why. You suspend judgment of God who knows why.
Guiness concludes by stating that all doubts about the Father are silenced in the Son, to which no suffering can be compared.
There’s not much to say after that.
"Oh God, teach me so deeply to understand myself that I may understand how utterly impossible it is to be satisfied with the mere fact that I am master of my own destiny, and that there is no satisfaction and joy and happiness for a person except obedience."
On Passion:
"Longing is the umbilical cord of the higher life."
"It is a great question whether those whom God cannot make mad have ever really existed for God."
"Authentic religion has to do with passion, with having passion. Sadly, there are thousands who take a little something out of religion, and then dispassionately "have religion."
- All quotes taken from Provocations ( a best of collection of Kierkegaard's spiritual writings.
-----------------------
Depression Series # 8
Giving Up On Answers And Suspending Judgment
I finished God in the Dark by Os Guiness this week and was humbled and changed. Reading Guiness’ answer to the question of ‘Why, O Lord?’ put something into words that I had been struggling with for a while. It was an idea that helped me deal with the suicide of a friend a year and a half ago.
Clark Stacy killed himself in March of ’05 while I was still a crime reporter in Chicago. Two years prior at Moody, I was his resident assistant but kept up with him after I graduated. I was naturally shocked when I heard the news on my way to work the overnight shift.
During a lull around 2 a.m., I did what I could to corroborate the news. I found online the small newspaper in Tennessee that ran his obituary the day after the suicide. I instantly thought of what I could do to find out more. I could look up the local medical examiner, hospital, or sheriff’s office. A friend had called me to fill me in but any news story had to be corroborated. I had to get the facts myself.
An hour later, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get any info. Why would anyone from small-town Tennessee talk to some small newswire reporter from Chicago? And if this was a suicide, no one would be talking about it anyway. I considered all the other roadblocks to getting information. I also considered my need to direct a sole reporter to best cover the city for the next 7 hours.
I stopped trying to find answers through reportorial means. Instead, for about two months I turned to the community that he and I used to be part of: Moody Bible Institute. I went to a sort of memorial chapel, talked to his friends still there and then listened to some crazy drama involving professors at MBI and Clark’s parents.
The man who counseled Clark at MBI was just as dumbfounded. I didn’t ask, but the counselor gave me his professional opinion (which I wasn’t going to ask about for obvious reasons). I felt privileged that he told me what he did but I still couldn’t figure out why it all happened.
More months went by and I gave up trying to find answers. My anger burned out and I knew that I would never have the answer that I wanted. I was just going to have to accept that and somewhere in the back of my head, try to accept that God was all that I was taught he was.
And then comes Guiness to tell me this:
“It is difficult to hold an impersonal universe personally responsible, and nothing less than personal responsibility will do. The only remaining option is to call God to the bar and charge him with the injustice of suffering that is otherwise inexplicable. Through doubt we can get even with God.”
So where does that leave me? What am I to do? Believe that God is good?
Guiness told me that “To suspend judgement on why something is happening is not the same as denying that something is happening. The former is faith, the latter is repression, which should have no part in the Christian faith.”
His idea is that you don’t know why but you can know why you trust God who knows why. You suspend judgment of God who knows why.
Guiness concludes by stating that all doubts about the Father are silenced in the Son, to which no suffering can be compared.
There’s not much to say after that.
Monday, March 26, 2007
New Brew Link; Coffee Master Threatens Church
I posted a YouTube video of Mark Driscoll speaking on the Emerging/Emergent movements for Desiring God Ministries (which Driscoll classifies as Emerging) on the Culture Tab of The Brew.
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Coffee Master Threatens Church
For the past three months, I have blessed the college class at my church with some potent nourishment to enhance their spiritual lives: a tasty brew from the coffee chain that shall remain nameless. The caffeine and taste of the coffee quickens their minds to better soak in the teachings each week.
However, two deacons from the church are unhappy that out of the many pots of Folgers made each week for the entire congregation’s coffee break, a different kind of coffee is made. When a certain Coffee Master enters the kitchen and asks if he can make a batch from coffee that he brought for the college class, looks of distrust and hissing are thrown his way. This sort of behavior baffles, especially since the lover of coffee leaves his Coffee Master black apron at home, so as not to brag.
In more recent times, other congregants, under the guise of introducing themselves to the Coffee Master (who is about to take his pot of Arabica-based bliss to his college class), have dipped into the blessings meant for the elect. That week, the Coffee Master (CM) had to brew another batch, for the college students were wringing and shaking the coffee pot to the last drop for nourishment.
Vexed CM was speechless another week when a deacon, who goes by the name “Lurch,” attempted to pull a bait and switch with two coffee pots. One contained the liquid that can truly quench the thirst and another contained merely stale, Folgers-smelling air. “Your coffee is ready,” stated Lurch, handing off the odorous coffee pot. CM, noticing the lightness of the pot, looked at Lurch, who, unable to hide his sin, confessed: “I’m just kidding. Here’s the ‘special’ stuff.”
The saga continued this week when CM brought a pound and a half of blessed beans to be used for the entire church. Lurch was in the kitchen when CM dropped off the ground beans. “I brought some beans so everybody can have the ‘special stuff.’
Lurch: (with an insulted and offended look) Starbucks?!
CM: (in the most gracious and forgiving spirit that overlooks any kind of brewing transgression) Yeah. You can use it if you want.
The conversation continued when CM returned to the kitchen during the coffee break between services.
Lurch: People don’t like your stuff.
CM: What are you talking about?
Lurch: I got complaints about your stuff. People say they can see all the way through the coffee. They say it’s like tea. They might as well be drinking tea.
CM: Really?
Lurch: It was just one person that complained. I put one Styrofoam cup full of your stuff in for a full batch (which equals around 15 cups of coffee) and it looks like tea. (Turning to someone currently taking from the wasted batch of flavored water) Do you get any taste out of that? It’s…Starbucks.
Unfortunate Congregate Duped Into Drinking The Dreadful Attempt At Coffee: It’s almost like tea.
CM: (Again, putting on the gracious, forgiving air and not saying how Lurch sabatoged the ‘special stuff’ on purpose because he doesn’t like some young punk kid with a wicked gotee trying to force some non-fair trade coffee into the mist of the chosen) Oh, okay.
Lurch: No one likes the ‘special stuff’ so I’m going back to the good stuff (pointing to the plastic gallon bucket holding the silly robusta-based Folgers).
CM: (Seeing that some indecipherable foreign mixture known as Breakfast Blend was too much of a change for Lurch) Is there a pot ready for me to make some for the college class?
----------------
Coffee Master Threatens Church
For the past three months, I have blessed the college class at my church with some potent nourishment to enhance their spiritual lives: a tasty brew from the coffee chain that shall remain nameless. The caffeine and taste of the coffee quickens their minds to better soak in the teachings each week.
However, two deacons from the church are unhappy that out of the many pots of Folgers made each week for the entire congregation’s coffee break, a different kind of coffee is made. When a certain Coffee Master enters the kitchen and asks if he can make a batch from coffee that he brought for the college class, looks of distrust and hissing are thrown his way. This sort of behavior baffles, especially since the lover of coffee leaves his Coffee Master black apron at home, so as not to brag.
In more recent times, other congregants, under the guise of introducing themselves to the Coffee Master (who is about to take his pot of Arabica-based bliss to his college class), have dipped into the blessings meant for the elect. That week, the Coffee Master (CM) had to brew another batch, for the college students were wringing and shaking the coffee pot to the last drop for nourishment.
Vexed CM was speechless another week when a deacon, who goes by the name “Lurch,” attempted to pull a bait and switch with two coffee pots. One contained the liquid that can truly quench the thirst and another contained merely stale, Folgers-smelling air. “Your coffee is ready,” stated Lurch, handing off the odorous coffee pot. CM, noticing the lightness of the pot, looked at Lurch, who, unable to hide his sin, confessed: “I’m just kidding. Here’s the ‘special’ stuff.”
The saga continued this week when CM brought a pound and a half of blessed beans to be used for the entire church. Lurch was in the kitchen when CM dropped off the ground beans. “I brought some beans so everybody can have the ‘special stuff.’
Lurch: (with an insulted and offended look) Starbucks?!
CM: (in the most gracious and forgiving spirit that overlooks any kind of brewing transgression) Yeah. You can use it if you want.
The conversation continued when CM returned to the kitchen during the coffee break between services.
Lurch: People don’t like your stuff.
CM: What are you talking about?
Lurch: I got complaints about your stuff. People say they can see all the way through the coffee. They say it’s like tea. They might as well be drinking tea.
CM: Really?
Lurch: It was just one person that complained. I put one Styrofoam cup full of your stuff in for a full batch (which equals around 15 cups of coffee) and it looks like tea. (Turning to someone currently taking from the wasted batch of flavored water) Do you get any taste out of that? It’s…Starbucks.
Unfortunate Congregate Duped Into Drinking The Dreadful Attempt At Coffee: It’s almost like tea.
CM: (Again, putting on the gracious, forgiving air and not saying how Lurch sabatoged the ‘special stuff’ on purpose because he doesn’t like some young punk kid with a wicked gotee trying to force some non-fair trade coffee into the mist of the chosen) Oh, okay.
Lurch: No one likes the ‘special stuff’ so I’m going back to the good stuff (pointing to the plastic gallon bucket holding the silly robusta-based Folgers).
CM: (Seeing that some indecipherable foreign mixture known as Breakfast Blend was too much of a change for Lurch) Is there a pot ready for me to make some for the college class?
Friday, March 23, 2007
Chick-fil-A Vol. 2; New Brew; Depression Series # 7
Chick-fil-A Vol. 2
The aforementioned woman from the restaurant beside the coffee chain that shall remain nameless has been reported to have called the corporate office. The corporate office then called the local district manager of the coffee chain, who left an official sign stating that employees could no longer park in the next door lot.
This is the last fact that can be confirmed, though many rumors abound. Some say that the beef-less restaurant will refuse service to coffee chain employees (yet to be confirmed). Others have stated that woman/parking-lot-attendant has stickers/cards that she places on vehicles belonging to coffee employees or customers who park in the lot. The aforementioned Moroccans told said woman what they thought of her asking them to move their cars from the lot (it was said to have involved profanity). Coffee chain customers have been asked by woman while in coffee store or outside at the cafe tables to move their vehicles from the lot.
--------------------------
New Brew
I posted Dan's unromantic look at the Emergent/ing movement on The Brew. It may be a little bawdy for some, but check it out nonetheless.
------------------------------
Depression Series # 7
I wrote this essay recently after reading a great book by Os Guiness, God In The Dark. A great book for anyone who's dealt with doubt or depression.
Remembering
“In keep open lines to the past, the redeemed memory carries encouragement and conveys warnings and lessons to faith as faith is engaged in fighting at the front line of battle that is the present moment.”
-Os Guiness, God in the Dark.
This comes from the third chapter of Guiness’ book, entitled “Forgetting to Remember: Doubt from Ingratitude.” Reading this book has been revolutionary. What’s crazy is that I feel like (and sound like) I did almost eight years ago as I was starting my Bible school education. Every book was mind-shattering and life-altering.
I remember those days and look back fondly on them, though nowadays I’d say I’m very far from them. I don’t long for that pure milk of anything and gasp when some new truth is revealed to me. I more just long to continue on and not be dragged back into a depressed state that finds it’s cure in never-ending entertainment. God is still there and Christ has still saved me; I’m still redeemed and am being regenerated but I don’t quite feel like it. I’m accustoming myself to having feelings again and trying to sort them out after having turned them off.
I realized that my faith somehow keeps going, inspite of everything that I think would shatter it. My struggles with depression, although ongoing, aren’t as crippling as they once were. Five years after I began struggling with it, I see that life has gone on and I’v figured some things out. I’ve become one of those people I knew way back when who inspired me to keep going. I saw them in their darkest times but then later on, I also saw them able to get back to some kind of functioning faith. Somehow, they were able to deal with their depression or whatever other malady and move on. Time and their faith were able to help them grow.
I’ve more than survived the last five years and that’s something I try to remind myself of. I earned a bachelor’s degree and supported myself for going on three years. I was a freakin’ reporter for the Chicago Tribune for a year. Although I didn’t succeed at this and quit after a year, I didn’t let that send running home to Mom and Dad thinking that I couldn’t accomplish anything with my struggles with depression. And now I’ve up and moved to Texas to take a chance on starting a magazine. Who knows what’ll happen next.
The aforementioned woman from the restaurant beside the coffee chain that shall remain nameless has been reported to have called the corporate office. The corporate office then called the local district manager of the coffee chain, who left an official sign stating that employees could no longer park in the next door lot.
This is the last fact that can be confirmed, though many rumors abound. Some say that the beef-less restaurant will refuse service to coffee chain employees (yet to be confirmed). Others have stated that woman/parking-lot-attendant has stickers/cards that she places on vehicles belonging to coffee employees or customers who park in the lot. The aforementioned Moroccans told said woman what they thought of her asking them to move their cars from the lot (it was said to have involved profanity). Coffee chain customers have been asked by woman while in coffee store or outside at the cafe tables to move their vehicles from the lot.
--------------------------
New Brew
I posted Dan's unromantic look at the Emergent/ing movement on The Brew. It may be a little bawdy for some, but check it out nonetheless.
------------------------------
Depression Series # 7
I wrote this essay recently after reading a great book by Os Guiness, God In The Dark. A great book for anyone who's dealt with doubt or depression.
Remembering
“In keep open lines to the past, the redeemed memory carries encouragement and conveys warnings and lessons to faith as faith is engaged in fighting at the front line of battle that is the present moment.”
-Os Guiness, God in the Dark.
This comes from the third chapter of Guiness’ book, entitled “Forgetting to Remember: Doubt from Ingratitude.” Reading this book has been revolutionary. What’s crazy is that I feel like (and sound like) I did almost eight years ago as I was starting my Bible school education. Every book was mind-shattering and life-altering.
I remember those days and look back fondly on them, though nowadays I’d say I’m very far from them. I don’t long for that pure milk of anything and gasp when some new truth is revealed to me. I more just long to continue on and not be dragged back into a depressed state that finds it’s cure in never-ending entertainment. God is still there and Christ has still saved me; I’m still redeemed and am being regenerated but I don’t quite feel like it. I’m accustoming myself to having feelings again and trying to sort them out after having turned them off.
I realized that my faith somehow keeps going, inspite of everything that I think would shatter it. My struggles with depression, although ongoing, aren’t as crippling as they once were. Five years after I began struggling with it, I see that life has gone on and I’v figured some things out. I’ve become one of those people I knew way back when who inspired me to keep going. I saw them in their darkest times but then later on, I also saw them able to get back to some kind of functioning faith. Somehow, they were able to deal with their depression or whatever other malady and move on. Time and their faith were able to help them grow.
I’ve more than survived the last five years and that’s something I try to remind myself of. I earned a bachelor’s degree and supported myself for going on three years. I was a freakin’ reporter for the Chicago Tribune for a year. Although I didn’t succeed at this and quit after a year, I didn’t let that send running home to Mom and Dad thinking that I couldn’t accomplish anything with my struggles with depression. And now I’ve up and moved to Texas to take a chance on starting a magazine. Who knows what’ll happen next.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Depression Series # 6 - Adaptation
Here's something that is kind of about depression but is more about adaptation. I wrote this last winter while still in Chicago.
Adaptation
“The high for today will be about 42 degrees. It’s currently 41 and you’re listening to…” broadcast the radio station at around 4:15 a.m a few days ago. This was the beginning of January for Chicagoans; a mild streak of weather in what can often be the harshest season for this Midwest giant of a city. Business this week was back to booming at the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain nameless. More people were out and braving the Icelandic 40 degree temperatures and even buying frozen and iced drinks (much to the chagrin of my co-workers). People were enjoying the atypical weather.
But not two weeks earlier the city was crippled during the evening rush hour by a furious snow storm that unceremoniously dumped at least 8 inches of powder in about four hours. From about 4 p.m. on, blustery winds and blinding snow delayed commuters on their way home. Some driving home on the Eisenhower Expressway reported a four-hour commute that night. I drove downtown to pick up something from my store that night but ended up staying downtown because of the traffic and storm.
Like all who live in this great city, I had to adapt and change my plans for that night. I had planned on going back to my apartment on the northwest side and accomplishing some things that night. But an estimated three-hour tour home on Lake Shore Drive convinced me to stick it out where I was. So I decided to call some friends who were close by and catch a movie. It’s not like I would be going anywhere soon so I adapted to the situation.
Adaptation seems essential to anyone’s life, since nothing ever goes as planned (And even if it does, one must still adapt to things going better than planned). Your checking account is overdrawn; you have to adjust your spending and finagle a plan to correct your account. You figure out that the profession you studied in school is not necessarily what you can succeed at doing. God deals you some kind of malady that cripples your body, mind or confidence. So what do you do? You learn to adapt.
Why? I adapt because I’ve seen what happens to those who can’t. Some revert back to some remedial stage of life and take some dead end job that has no hint of challenging them. Or they give up on using the gifts that God has endowed them with and accept something lesser. Or sometimes they feel it better to take their own life. And while I can understand how someone could get to such a place in life, I am enraged when I see such a situation. I am enraged at God for letting such a thing happen and I am enraged for whatever other reason I can assign for a suicide. Even if I know that these reasons are nothing more than me grasping at straws to try understand something that is incomprehensible.
So many people I know get used to some kind of support system and rely completely on that system, whether they know it or not. And then when they graduate from that stage of life and move out of a certain environment, they feel like they’re drowning because they don’t know how to sustain themselves without that old environment. Sometimes the solution is to just keep treading water. Eventually, the person may be able to see their situation and learn a stroke that will help them to swim on to the next stage of life.
But sometimes the best adaptation to a situation is to stop treading water. Some people need to be brought to the end of their own ability and begin sinking down into the water. Getting to such a point leaves a person one option: hope that something outside of themselves can help save their life. As they sink further under the surface and the water seems to get darker, a person can look to God and pray for some miracle. And then the person begins to feel a strange sensation on the sides of their neck, much like Harry Potter while in an underwater game in the most current installment of that series.
Something begins growing out of their neck and they can’t help but suck in the water that is pressing all around them. Gills appear on their neck and then they open wide their mouths against all their instincts and fill their lungs with water. They slowly begin sucking in water and their lungs somehow grab the oxygen out of the water and keep it flowing through their veins.
An adaptation has occurred that enables a person to move on with their life to whatever new plans God has for them. They have survived what seemed an impossible situation and are amazed at the way God changed them for this new stage of life.
Adaptation
“The high for today will be about 42 degrees. It’s currently 41 and you’re listening to…” broadcast the radio station at around 4:15 a.m a few days ago. This was the beginning of January for Chicagoans; a mild streak of weather in what can often be the harshest season for this Midwest giant of a city. Business this week was back to booming at the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain nameless. More people were out and braving the Icelandic 40 degree temperatures and even buying frozen and iced drinks (much to the chagrin of my co-workers). People were enjoying the atypical weather.
But not two weeks earlier the city was crippled during the evening rush hour by a furious snow storm that unceremoniously dumped at least 8 inches of powder in about four hours. From about 4 p.m. on, blustery winds and blinding snow delayed commuters on their way home. Some driving home on the Eisenhower Expressway reported a four-hour commute that night. I drove downtown to pick up something from my store that night but ended up staying downtown because of the traffic and storm.
Like all who live in this great city, I had to adapt and change my plans for that night. I had planned on going back to my apartment on the northwest side and accomplishing some things that night. But an estimated three-hour tour home on Lake Shore Drive convinced me to stick it out where I was. So I decided to call some friends who were close by and catch a movie. It’s not like I would be going anywhere soon so I adapted to the situation.
Adaptation seems essential to anyone’s life, since nothing ever goes as planned (And even if it does, one must still adapt to things going better than planned). Your checking account is overdrawn; you have to adjust your spending and finagle a plan to correct your account. You figure out that the profession you studied in school is not necessarily what you can succeed at doing. God deals you some kind of malady that cripples your body, mind or confidence. So what do you do? You learn to adapt.
Why? I adapt because I’ve seen what happens to those who can’t. Some revert back to some remedial stage of life and take some dead end job that has no hint of challenging them. Or they give up on using the gifts that God has endowed them with and accept something lesser. Or sometimes they feel it better to take their own life. And while I can understand how someone could get to such a place in life, I am enraged when I see such a situation. I am enraged at God for letting such a thing happen and I am enraged for whatever other reason I can assign for a suicide. Even if I know that these reasons are nothing more than me grasping at straws to try understand something that is incomprehensible.
So many people I know get used to some kind of support system and rely completely on that system, whether they know it or not. And then when they graduate from that stage of life and move out of a certain environment, they feel like they’re drowning because they don’t know how to sustain themselves without that old environment. Sometimes the solution is to just keep treading water. Eventually, the person may be able to see their situation and learn a stroke that will help them to swim on to the next stage of life.
But sometimes the best adaptation to a situation is to stop treading water. Some people need to be brought to the end of their own ability and begin sinking down into the water. Getting to such a point leaves a person one option: hope that something outside of themselves can help save their life. As they sink further under the surface and the water seems to get darker, a person can look to God and pray for some miracle. And then the person begins to feel a strange sensation on the sides of their neck, much like Harry Potter while in an underwater game in the most current installment of that series.
Something begins growing out of their neck and they can’t help but suck in the water that is pressing all around them. Gills appear on their neck and then they open wide their mouths against all their instincts and fill their lungs with water. They slowly begin sucking in water and their lungs somehow grab the oxygen out of the water and keep it flowing through their veins.
An adaptation has occurred that enables a person to move on with their life to whatever new plans God has for them. They have survived what seemed an impossible situation and are amazed at the way God changed them for this new stage of life.
Monday, March 19, 2007
New Brew; Dallas Drama ( Not that old TV show that no one remembers)
I posted Lonnie's article on Emergents getting away from Enlightenment-influenced faith. Check it out. The Brew.
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Thus begins the long saga known as "The Parking Wars Between Chick-fil-A and The Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless."
One employee of that coffee chain parked near a side door of his store, which happens to be in the side lot of an oft-smelled Chick-Fil-A restaurant. On some night last week, this employee was asked by a woman (who is most likely the wife of the owner/operator) to move his car out of the restaurant parking lot, which is for employees and customers of the restaurant. Said woman then described a violent and noisy exit by coffee chain employee into the coffee chain's parking lot two hundred feet away. (There is not signage in either parking lot that specifies any spot is reserved for either establishment.)
This same employee parked in this disputed spot again during his Saturday night shift. The aforementioned woman enters the coffee chain and then explains the previous incident to me. "I'll let it go this time," states said woman, who continues on into explaining why the parking spot (one of about ten) is for customers, etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum.
Another employee of the coffee chain overhears the conversation and proceeds to move his car next to the previous employee's car in the controversial parking lot during his meal break. Not being able to contain himself at his feat of defiance, the second employee tells me, the supervisor for this shift, of his ingenious move. Supervisor laughs hard, but then shakes his head.
Authoritative woman then talks to the Johnny-Come-Lately about moving his car into the parking lot. Employee, having purchased foodstuffs from the restaurant in the past, responds by saying, "I'm a paying customer." "Save your receipt," says woman.
Some regular customers (Native Moroccans who are associated with a Mediterranean restaurant across the street) come to the coffee shop for their nightly card game and also park in the prized lot.
Woman confronts me while I am outside washing down outdoor cafe tables. "Is that your Land Rover over there?" I, the most professional and mature supervisor, responds with: " No. I drive a Hyundai."
"Did you know that your other employee parked his car in the lot after I already talked to you about the first employee?"
Again, mature supervisor responds with a genuine, though put on, surprised look and words: "He did? Well..."
"I see how things are," woman interrupts me and then walks back to the restaurant with an aversion to beef.
About an hour later, a red truck (later discovered to be the owner/operator's) is parked directly behind the two vehicles driven by the coffee chain employees, effectively blocking them in (but also resting in a fire lane area which can be towed after a call to the city's non-emergency number).
No more interchanges occurred and the restaurant, not being the sinful night owls that us coffee employees are, could not wait for us to close; all employees, including the owner/driver-of-erroneously-parked-red-truck, had gone home by 11:30 p.m. leaving all of North Dallas the ability to park in the debatable lot.
Coffee supervisor conversed with store manager by phone after unfolding drama and was instructed to post a sign. It reads to this day: "Do not park in Chick-filla's (et.) lot anymore." - Store manager (except on Sundays)
----------------------------
Thus begins the long saga known as "The Parking Wars Between Chick-fil-A and The Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless."
One employee of that coffee chain parked near a side door of his store, which happens to be in the side lot of an oft-smelled Chick-Fil-A restaurant. On some night last week, this employee was asked by a woman (who is most likely the wife of the owner/operator) to move his car out of the restaurant parking lot, which is for employees and customers of the restaurant. Said woman then described a violent and noisy exit by coffee chain employee into the coffee chain's parking lot two hundred feet away. (There is not signage in either parking lot that specifies any spot is reserved for either establishment.)
This same employee parked in this disputed spot again during his Saturday night shift. The aforementioned woman enters the coffee chain and then explains the previous incident to me. "I'll let it go this time," states said woman, who continues on into explaining why the parking spot (one of about ten) is for customers, etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum.
Another employee of the coffee chain overhears the conversation and proceeds to move his car next to the previous employee's car in the controversial parking lot during his meal break. Not being able to contain himself at his feat of defiance, the second employee tells me, the supervisor for this shift, of his ingenious move. Supervisor laughs hard, but then shakes his head.
Authoritative woman then talks to the Johnny-Come-Lately about moving his car into the parking lot. Employee, having purchased foodstuffs from the restaurant in the past, responds by saying, "I'm a paying customer." "Save your receipt," says woman.
Some regular customers (Native Moroccans who are associated with a Mediterranean restaurant across the street) come to the coffee shop for their nightly card game and also park in the prized lot.
Woman confronts me while I am outside washing down outdoor cafe tables. "Is that your Land Rover over there?" I, the most professional and mature supervisor, responds with: " No. I drive a Hyundai."
"Did you know that your other employee parked his car in the lot after I already talked to you about the first employee?"
Again, mature supervisor responds with a genuine, though put on, surprised look and words: "He did? Well..."
"I see how things are," woman interrupts me and then walks back to the restaurant with an aversion to beef.
About an hour later, a red truck (later discovered to be the owner/operator's) is parked directly behind the two vehicles driven by the coffee chain employees, effectively blocking them in (but also resting in a fire lane area which can be towed after a call to the city's non-emergency number).
No more interchanges occurred and the restaurant, not being the sinful night owls that us coffee employees are, could not wait for us to close; all employees, including the owner/driver-of-erroneously-parked-red-truck, had gone home by 11:30 p.m. leaving all of North Dallas the ability to park in the debatable lot.
Coffee supervisor conversed with store manager by phone after unfolding drama and was instructed to post a sign. It reads to this day: "Do not park in Chick-filla's (et.) lot anymore." - Store manager (except on Sundays)
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Survey says...
One thing they didn't cover in this survey is whether or not I'm narcissistic.
| Personality Inventory | ||
| Emotional (56%) | [.........|..........] | Logical (44%) |
| Concerned about self (45%) | [..........|.........] | Concerned about others (55%) |
| Atheist (27%) | [..........|||||.....] | Religious (73%) |
| Loner (50%) | [....................] | Dependent (50%) |
| Laid-back (52%) | [....................] | Driven (48%) |
| Traditional (63%) | [.......|||..........] | Rebel (37%) |
| Impetuous (100%) | [||||||||||..........] | Organized (0%) |
| Engineering mind (51%) | [....................] | Artistic mind (49%) |
| Cynical (56%) | [.........|..........] | Idealist (44%) |
| Follower (46%) | [..........|.........] | Leader (54%) |
| Introverted (43%) | [..........|.........] | Extroverted (57%) |
| Conservative (69%) | [......||||..........] | Liberal (31%) |
| Logical (53%) | [.........|..........] | Romantic (47%) |
| Uninterested (56%) | [.........|..........] | Sexual (44%) |
| Insecure (42%) | [..........||........] | Confident (58%) |
| Take the test! brought to you by thatsurveysite | ||
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
New Brew; Spam and Stats
I posted part 2 of Jamie's Good, Bad and Ugly of The Emergents article on The Brew. Check it out.
--------------
Good news. I've had to block three spam comment posts on The Brew, which means that the magazine is generating enough traffic for advertisers to want to spam us. For once, spam means something good.
Here's Feb.'s stats:
2,168 Unique Visitors
13,000 Page Views
--------------
Good news. I've had to block three spam comment posts on The Brew, which means that the magazine is generating enough traffic for advertisers to want to spam us. For once, spam means something good.
Here's Feb.'s stats:
2,168 Unique Visitors
13,000 Page Views
New Brew link; Depression Series # 5: The Most Depressing CD You'll Ever Hear
A friend (Mabul) gave me this revealing article from Salon.com on Mark Driscoll, one of the leaders of the Emerging Church. Check it out on The Brew's Culture Tab.
--------------------------
Here's a more musical side of my Depression Series; an article about a depressing mix CD that I made for myself.
Depression Series # 5: The Most Depressing CD You'll Ever Hear (2004)
As the compact disc ceases spinning in my second-hand stereo, the fog that seemed to have settled over my brain has somehow lifted. The depression that plagued me as that hour-long CD began has dissipated after listening to this sanctifying music. Something in that music escorted me out of the maze of self-centered thoughts and enabled me to see that there is an entire world outside of my own small experience that I was created to participate in.
The self-created compilation CD is a grouping of some of the most depressing music I have ever heard. And I thank God for it. Somehow, by creating a playlist of downer-type music, I was able to give a form to my depression and express what I could not quite put into words.
Aimee Mann begins the mix with three tracks of her breathy and weary voice from the "Magnolia" soundtrack. "One," "Save Me," and "Wise Up" speak from the other side of some wrenching emotional turmoil with pessimism and honesty that shines a light on whatever sorrows that may exist in my own life. By being able to step back and see hurt, angst and a reason for both, I can start to understand the darker feelings that lurk underneath my radar; the feelings that I might try to hide or ignore.
More songs on the CD are merely for atmosphere and tone, but encourage the mellow state of mind needed to identify issues I may be having. Gary Jules' remake of "Mad, Mad World," Jeff Buckley's "Halleluiah," and a healthy dose of Radiohead each help me to cry out that something is wrong and then take steps to do something about it. And just in case I'm in the mood, U2's "Numb" reassures me that other people know what it's like to feel a certain way.
Yet, the point of the CD is not to make you so depressed you become paralyzed with self-absorbed thoughts. I listen to such a compilation to express what's wrong and then do something about it. That's why interspersed in the mix are songs to help turn my thoughts back to the world outside my own private prison. This world is where Christ's supernatural power can reach into my natural world and fix the self-destructive thoughts.
A large portion of these songs come from Waterdeep's "Everyone's Beautiful" album, a rare find in the mostly superficial world of contemporary Christian music. This rarely-heard band honestly addresses sin, doubt and anger in "Confessions of a Broken Down Man" and the title track from the CD. "He Will Come," which follows the other two songs, serves as a reminder of what I can look forward to in the midst of the daily battle against the small frustrations or unrealistic expectations that could drag a person down.
Also on the CD are more expressions of pain but in the context of crying out to God and asking for help. Tracks such as the driving, industrial "Chronic" by Sarah Jahn and the raw, lamenting "One Lonely Visitor" by Chevelle help with the complexities of sorting through emotions and what we think we know about God. And an obvious but much needed "Grace" by the now defunct Normals reminds me of the one supernatural gift that can trump any chemical imbalance I might have in my head.
To finish off the disc is a suite of songs from Sarah Groves' "All Right Here" album that specifically speaks about depression and God having a reason for letting some people suffer with this ailment. The last song of my compilation, being what will stay in your brain the longest after the music stops, is "You Cannot Loose My Love;" a song that admits to loosing everything from innocence to direction but never God's love.
This combination of music is what has helped so many times to express the unknown hurt that lingers some days. It is an hour-long therapy session that lets me travel into the darker regions of my psyche without getting lost. By making this CD, I could let the hurt be expressed by expert singer/songwriters and then end the compilation with a reminder of why I have so great a salvation: to let my thoughts be transformed by Christ's amazing Spirit. And whether or not I am cured of depression or end up living the rest of my life with it, this CD is a reminder that I will be a shinning example of how Christ's power is made perfect in mental weakness.
--------------------------
Here's a more musical side of my Depression Series; an article about a depressing mix CD that I made for myself.
Depression Series # 5: The Most Depressing CD You'll Ever Hear (2004)
As the compact disc ceases spinning in my second-hand stereo, the fog that seemed to have settled over my brain has somehow lifted. The depression that plagued me as that hour-long CD began has dissipated after listening to this sanctifying music. Something in that music escorted me out of the maze of self-centered thoughts and enabled me to see that there is an entire world outside of my own small experience that I was created to participate in.
The self-created compilation CD is a grouping of some of the most depressing music I have ever heard. And I thank God for it. Somehow, by creating a playlist of downer-type music, I was able to give a form to my depression and express what I could not quite put into words.
Aimee Mann begins the mix with three tracks of her breathy and weary voice from the "Magnolia" soundtrack. "One," "Save Me," and "Wise Up" speak from the other side of some wrenching emotional turmoil with pessimism and honesty that shines a light on whatever sorrows that may exist in my own life. By being able to step back and see hurt, angst and a reason for both, I can start to understand the darker feelings that lurk underneath my radar; the feelings that I might try to hide or ignore.
More songs on the CD are merely for atmosphere and tone, but encourage the mellow state of mind needed to identify issues I may be having. Gary Jules' remake of "Mad, Mad World," Jeff Buckley's "Halleluiah," and a healthy dose of Radiohead each help me to cry out that something is wrong and then take steps to do something about it. And just in case I'm in the mood, U2's "Numb" reassures me that other people know what it's like to feel a certain way.
Yet, the point of the CD is not to make you so depressed you become paralyzed with self-absorbed thoughts. I listen to such a compilation to express what's wrong and then do something about it. That's why interspersed in the mix are songs to help turn my thoughts back to the world outside my own private prison. This world is where Christ's supernatural power can reach into my natural world and fix the self-destructive thoughts.
A large portion of these songs come from Waterdeep's "Everyone's Beautiful" album, a rare find in the mostly superficial world of contemporary Christian music. This rarely-heard band honestly addresses sin, doubt and anger in "Confessions of a Broken Down Man" and the title track from the CD. "He Will Come," which follows the other two songs, serves as a reminder of what I can look forward to in the midst of the daily battle against the small frustrations or unrealistic expectations that could drag a person down.
Also on the CD are more expressions of pain but in the context of crying out to God and asking for help. Tracks such as the driving, industrial "Chronic" by Sarah Jahn and the raw, lamenting "One Lonely Visitor" by Chevelle help with the complexities of sorting through emotions and what we think we know about God. And an obvious but much needed "Grace" by the now defunct Normals reminds me of the one supernatural gift that can trump any chemical imbalance I might have in my head.
To finish off the disc is a suite of songs from Sarah Groves' "All Right Here" album that specifically speaks about depression and God having a reason for letting some people suffer with this ailment. The last song of my compilation, being what will stay in your brain the longest after the music stops, is "You Cannot Loose My Love;" a song that admits to loosing everything from innocence to direction but never God's love.
This combination of music is what has helped so many times to express the unknown hurt that lingers some days. It is an hour-long therapy session that lets me travel into the darker regions of my psyche without getting lost. By making this CD, I could let the hurt be expressed by expert singer/songwriters and then end the compilation with a reminder of why I have so great a salvation: to let my thoughts be transformed by Christ's amazing Spirit. And whether or not I am cured of depression or end up living the rest of my life with it, this CD is a reminder that I will be a shinning example of how Christ's power is made perfect in mental weakness.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Borat; Depression Series # 4
Had a great night with a friend from Chicago who's now in Dallas. Had a six-course meal (all homemade except for some sushi); some double chocolate stout and big 'ole bottle of tasty cheap wine. This made watching Borat after dinner all the funnier.
Can't believe some people fell for Cohen's shtick, especially a local news station. I couldn't stop laughing while Cohen interrupted a local news weather segment. Genius.
---------------------------
Depression Series # 4 (Contains violent content)
This is an essay I didn't do anything with, and you can probably figure out why. It started with a good idea but then turned into something else and got a little violent by the end. Not sure what kind of mood I was in at the time, but I'm sure I must have just watched Fight Club or something like that before writing this.
Fighting Against Fundamentalism (2004)
I didn't realize I was one until met people who weren't and people who were worse off than me. And as much as I try to fight it, somewhere in the tissues of my brain lurks the evil, growth-stunting, self-exalting, self-isolating principles of fundamentalism.
I grew up with it like an extra head sitting on my shoulders. As I grew, matured and began to shave, so it began to get acne and feel akward. My brain and it's brain began to think similarly as we grew up. "I don't smoke, drink or chew or go with girls who do." That was actually a line from my parent's version of fundamentalism but it echoes so closely what my own thought.
"I don't watch R-rated movies, break the rules or question what I'm told or hang out with anyone so bold."
This is what my second brain would transmit from it's slightly off-center spot on my shoulders to my real brain which was in the center of my body and being. So many other transmissions were relayed to my true head through the church I went to, how my parents saw the world and how I confused spirituality with a tortuous sort of self-discipline. They were all that made it into my moldable brain during the adolescent years.
My second head would always tell me of how everything was spiritual and that there was always s spiritual reason for something happening. I could do well at baseball, then there must be someone that I hadn't reconciled myself with. Other completely unrelated disappointments or failures would be instantly diagnosed as blinking billboard that said, "Something is really wrong. Pray now so God can show you what you've done wrong."
I'd soon begin to misdiagnose everything that hurt or confused me. If people said something that hinted of a truer understanding of God's grace, of the complexity of being human or of Scripture and theology, I would think, "You're almost right but not quite." They weren't as spiritual as I was and if they were, then they wouldn't say or do those kinds of things. They should be so much more discipline and do what I do or else they'll run into a lot of problems.
My two heads soon became one as the off-center brain latched onto my own and began to meld with the beautiful gray matter that God had given me. I now saw through it's eyes instead of my own and thought it's thoughts. I couldn't believe how many other people had it all wrong. No wonder everyone else in the world was having problems with life. They weren't doing what I was doing. If they could only do their daily devotions ( merely an exercise in writing down meaningless phrases that would never impact my life) and see how bad those movies were (when if fact they were the most accurate depiction of humanity, grace and redemption.
All of my life was easy to explain and understand and the rest of the world was too, if you only thought like me. Complexity and confusion were suppressed and not dealt with because it didn't fit with my own paradigm of how God worked. The Bible was the Bible and there was no question about how life was. If something was wrong in your life, there had to be some spiritual roots.
But thank God for depression and the results. A small, dull pain began as an ax was pushed into my bloated and confused head. An inch at a time, the ax began to cut through the skin, muscle and bone until it found the carnivorous fundamentalist head that attached onto my own. A little dramatic? Yeah, but everything was when you had a fundamentalist mindset.
When the depression ax had succeeded in splitting my head open, my judgmental eyes were plucked out. My sight was gone. I didn't know how to look at the world anymore.
With a gaping gash in my head and two bloody sockets, I realized that something was wrong. Maybe I was wrong. I started to see that there was this other way of thinking. Some better way of looking at others, at my faith, and at how God saw me.
The one thing my fundamentalist mindset was right about was that there was something wrong with me. I had deeper problems.
Can't believe some people fell for Cohen's shtick, especially a local news station. I couldn't stop laughing while Cohen interrupted a local news weather segment. Genius.
---------------------------
Depression Series # 4 (Contains violent content)
This is an essay I didn't do anything with, and you can probably figure out why. It started with a good idea but then turned into something else and got a little violent by the end. Not sure what kind of mood I was in at the time, but I'm sure I must have just watched Fight Club or something like that before writing this.
Fighting Against Fundamentalism (2004)
I didn't realize I was one until met people who weren't and people who were worse off than me. And as much as I try to fight it, somewhere in the tissues of my brain lurks the evil, growth-stunting, self-exalting, self-isolating principles of fundamentalism.
I grew up with it like an extra head sitting on my shoulders. As I grew, matured and began to shave, so it began to get acne and feel akward. My brain and it's brain began to think similarly as we grew up. "I don't smoke, drink or chew or go with girls who do." That was actually a line from my parent's version of fundamentalism but it echoes so closely what my own thought.
"I don't watch R-rated movies, break the rules or question what I'm told or hang out with anyone so bold."
This is what my second brain would transmit from it's slightly off-center spot on my shoulders to my real brain which was in the center of my body and being. So many other transmissions were relayed to my true head through the church I went to, how my parents saw the world and how I confused spirituality with a tortuous sort of self-discipline. They were all that made it into my moldable brain during the adolescent years.
My second head would always tell me of how everything was spiritual and that there was always s spiritual reason for something happening. I could do well at baseball, then there must be someone that I hadn't reconciled myself with. Other completely unrelated disappointments or failures would be instantly diagnosed as blinking billboard that said, "Something is really wrong. Pray now so God can show you what you've done wrong."
I'd soon begin to misdiagnose everything that hurt or confused me. If people said something that hinted of a truer understanding of God's grace, of the complexity of being human or of Scripture and theology, I would think, "You're almost right but not quite." They weren't as spiritual as I was and if they were, then they wouldn't say or do those kinds of things. They should be so much more discipline and do what I do or else they'll run into a lot of problems.
My two heads soon became one as the off-center brain latched onto my own and began to meld with the beautiful gray matter that God had given me. I now saw through it's eyes instead of my own and thought it's thoughts. I couldn't believe how many other people had it all wrong. No wonder everyone else in the world was having problems with life. They weren't doing what I was doing. If they could only do their daily devotions ( merely an exercise in writing down meaningless phrases that would never impact my life) and see how bad those movies were (when if fact they were the most accurate depiction of humanity, grace and redemption.
All of my life was easy to explain and understand and the rest of the world was too, if you only thought like me. Complexity and confusion were suppressed and not dealt with because it didn't fit with my own paradigm of how God worked. The Bible was the Bible and there was no question about how life was. If something was wrong in your life, there had to be some spiritual roots.
But thank God for depression and the results. A small, dull pain began as an ax was pushed into my bloated and confused head. An inch at a time, the ax began to cut through the skin, muscle and bone until it found the carnivorous fundamentalist head that attached onto my own. A little dramatic? Yeah, but everything was when you had a fundamentalist mindset.
When the depression ax had succeeded in splitting my head open, my judgmental eyes were plucked out. My sight was gone. I didn't know how to look at the world anymore.
With a gaping gash in my head and two bloody sockets, I realized that something was wrong. Maybe I was wrong. I started to see that there was this other way of thinking. Some better way of looking at others, at my faith, and at how God saw me.
The one thing my fundamentalist mindset was right about was that there was something wrong with me. I had deeper problems.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Guac-queso; New Brew; Chicago v. Dallas
Went to a tex-mex restaurant and had some queso made with quacamole. Holy mole! I can't believe I've never thought of doing this.
----------
I posted another new author on The Brew. Kennedy Lewis writes with some bite on Truth and Emergents.
---------------
So I started comparing the churches I went to in Chicago and Dallas the other day.
Chicago: Holy Trinity Church(HTC). Dallas: Trinity Fellowship Church(TFC).
HTC: Weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 10 p.m. with monthly take-all tournaments (and 10% of the winnings were given to HTC). I'm still in the hole for $5 there.
TFC: Bi-weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 8 p.m. (has a more 'mature' crowd). When a pastor attends, no one worries about having to tithe if the pastor wins anything.
HTC: A reformed congregation began this church as a plant. Pastors are known for writing children's books, helping with the translation of the ESV, running the Chicago Marathon every year, carrying around a large cigars in their mouths in the church office (but not smoking them).
TFC: Sprang from a Brethren church but has a more evangelical bent. Pastor (the one I've gotten to know) known for brewing meade and other ales at home, taking many others to eat Ethiopian food and getting a celebratory allowance clause added to Dallas Theological Seminary's policy on drinking while on DTS's student council.
It's a pure coincidence that both celebrate the Trinity in their names. I don't always base my church decisions on their ranking of the Trinity, but hey, why knock a good thing?
----------
I posted another new author on The Brew. Kennedy Lewis writes with some bite on Truth and Emergents.
---------------
So I started comparing the churches I went to in Chicago and Dallas the other day.
Chicago: Holy Trinity Church(HTC). Dallas: Trinity Fellowship Church(TFC).
HTC: Weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 10 p.m. with monthly take-all tournaments (and 10% of the winnings were given to HTC). I'm still in the hole for $5 there.
TFC: Bi-weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 8 p.m. (has a more 'mature' crowd). When a pastor attends, no one worries about having to tithe if the pastor wins anything.
HTC: A reformed congregation began this church as a plant. Pastors are known for writing children's books, helping with the translation of the ESV, running the Chicago Marathon every year, carrying around a large cigars in their mouths in the church office (but not smoking them).
TFC: Sprang from a Brethren church but has a more evangelical bent. Pastor (the one I've gotten to know) known for brewing meade and other ales at home, taking many others to eat Ethiopian food and getting a celebratory allowance clause added to Dallas Theological Seminary's policy on drinking while on DTS's student council.
It's a pure coincidence that both celebrate the Trinity in their names. I don't always base my church decisions on their ranking of the Trinity, but hey, why knock a good thing?
Friday, March 09, 2007
Depression Series # 3
So this next essay was one that I got published on Relevant Magazine's website (which isn't really that hard to do). I think by this time, I'd gotten used to being depressed and was semi-acceptant of it all. This one is a little lighter ( which is good, because it helps balance out the darker, more violent essay which I'll post next week).
1/24/2004
www.relevantmag.com
'Familiar With Depression'
The idea of a depressed Christian used to seem like an oxymoron to me. Why would anyone who is a Christian be sad? I wondered. If a person really were a Christian, they should be able to remember all Christ had done for them, I figured. We really have no reason to be sad, let alone wallow in depression or sink into some lethargic sadness. People like that just need a better relationship with God, I thought. They probably didn’t pray the right way or didn’t even try to get anything out of their Bibles.
There just was no reason to be depressed—Christ has all the hope, joy and peace any person could ever need. It was such a foreign concept for me to understand; yet little did I know, this very problem was fermenting in my own head.
I always heard stories of believers who were depressed. I didn’t understand them or know how to start talking to them. I got some coffee one night with a friend from Germany and learned he wasn’t going to finish his semester at college. His grades were terrible, and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t fix them, so he was going to leave. Then he told me he was seeing a counselor for depression.
I was stumped. I told him I’d pray for him because I didn’t know what else to do.
Then there was another guy I knew on my floor at school who was in a similar situation. He hadn’t been doing well and was on academic probation. He told me he got behind because of depression.
Over my years at college, I would come to know many more people who dealt with depression. A statistic began to form as people left every semester either because depression killed their grades or they couldn’t recuperate from this disease while at school. The foreign concept didn’t seem so far away because people I knew and was friends with were suffering and introducing me to what depression really was.
As I became more familiar with depression, I saw how much it affects people and how much it can destroy a life. I saw how people lose all motivation for accomplishing anything or for trying to fix anything. I took notice of their outward symptoms, but was still clueless as to what the inner causes were. But I would soon know these inner causes, because they were slowly coming to a boil inside me.
I began feeling numb to more aspects of life. Small disappointments and unmet standards of spirituality started to accumulate in my daily life. Things just weren’t working, and I would constantly be frustrated with school, church or people. Soon, depression grew like a tumor in my brain, keeping me from functioning and even recognizing that I was slipping into an actual clinical depression that would last two years.
I didn’t know I was depressed; I had no idea what that was like. I just knew time seemed to move much slower and existing just took forever. I didn’t realize I was now one of those people whom I couldn’t comprehend. I was the person who I used to look down upon because I didn’t understand them.
I used to think that depressed people weren’t as spiritually strong because they might have given in too easily to their thoughts or because they didn’t trust enough in God. What I would soon realize is that depressed people are quite the opposite. Many are bastions of faith who have to struggle twice as hard to have any fellowship with God. They are often more reliant on God because they have nothing left to rely on; depression has stripped them of any crutch that would work as a substitute.
There’s no comfort in relationships, no consolation to be had from a good speech or sermon, and not much to believe in or hope for. Worship becomes no more than ink arranged on paper and empty, familiar words spoken with no emotion. There are the countless hours spent wondering what’s wrong with you and why you can’t just be like everyone else?
Depressed people also usually have a keen intellect and critical mind that detects counterfeit or superficial attempts at spirituality. They know this because they’ve tried just thinking positively or wishing they were a better warrior for God and have come up short. Their normally healthy mind can drive itself into despair, can let itself wallow in sadness and even produce thoughts of suicide.
After a year and a half of living as a depressed Christian, the unfathomable became poignantly clear. I was depressed.
I knew what it felt like to not know where God is and to not know how to fix anything in your life. I knew how it felt to be the recipient of the sometimes hollow and distant sympathy, “I’ll pray for you.” I knew what it was like to have no motivation to accomplish anything because I was so consumed with my own problems. I now knew what depression looked like because I could look in the mirror and truly see myself there.
Now I know how real depression is, and how real struggle is in the spiritual life. I can no longer pigeonhole people who are truly suffering as “just not that spiritual.” People who seem to be on the outside of what I think is spiritual are usually the ones who know better than to have such a category. And I can only pray that someday God will bless me enough to be like them.
1/24/2004
www.relevantmag.com
'Familiar With Depression'
The idea of a depressed Christian used to seem like an oxymoron to me. Why would anyone who is a Christian be sad? I wondered. If a person really were a Christian, they should be able to remember all Christ had done for them, I figured. We really have no reason to be sad, let alone wallow in depression or sink into some lethargic sadness. People like that just need a better relationship with God, I thought. They probably didn’t pray the right way or didn’t even try to get anything out of their Bibles.
There just was no reason to be depressed—Christ has all the hope, joy and peace any person could ever need. It was such a foreign concept for me to understand; yet little did I know, this very problem was fermenting in my own head.
I always heard stories of believers who were depressed. I didn’t understand them or know how to start talking to them. I got some coffee one night with a friend from Germany and learned he wasn’t going to finish his semester at college. His grades were terrible, and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t fix them, so he was going to leave. Then he told me he was seeing a counselor for depression.
I was stumped. I told him I’d pray for him because I didn’t know what else to do.
Then there was another guy I knew on my floor at school who was in a similar situation. He hadn’t been doing well and was on academic probation. He told me he got behind because of depression.
Over my years at college, I would come to know many more people who dealt with depression. A statistic began to form as people left every semester either because depression killed their grades or they couldn’t recuperate from this disease while at school. The foreign concept didn’t seem so far away because people I knew and was friends with were suffering and introducing me to what depression really was.
As I became more familiar with depression, I saw how much it affects people and how much it can destroy a life. I saw how people lose all motivation for accomplishing anything or for trying to fix anything. I took notice of their outward symptoms, but was still clueless as to what the inner causes were. But I would soon know these inner causes, because they were slowly coming to a boil inside me.
I began feeling numb to more aspects of life. Small disappointments and unmet standards of spirituality started to accumulate in my daily life. Things just weren’t working, and I would constantly be frustrated with school, church or people. Soon, depression grew like a tumor in my brain, keeping me from functioning and even recognizing that I was slipping into an actual clinical depression that would last two years.
I didn’t know I was depressed; I had no idea what that was like. I just knew time seemed to move much slower and existing just took forever. I didn’t realize I was now one of those people whom I couldn’t comprehend. I was the person who I used to look down upon because I didn’t understand them.
I used to think that depressed people weren’t as spiritually strong because they might have given in too easily to their thoughts or because they didn’t trust enough in God. What I would soon realize is that depressed people are quite the opposite. Many are bastions of faith who have to struggle twice as hard to have any fellowship with God. They are often more reliant on God because they have nothing left to rely on; depression has stripped them of any crutch that would work as a substitute.
There’s no comfort in relationships, no consolation to be had from a good speech or sermon, and not much to believe in or hope for. Worship becomes no more than ink arranged on paper and empty, familiar words spoken with no emotion. There are the countless hours spent wondering what’s wrong with you and why you can’t just be like everyone else?
Depressed people also usually have a keen intellect and critical mind that detects counterfeit or superficial attempts at spirituality. They know this because they’ve tried just thinking positively or wishing they were a better warrior for God and have come up short. Their normally healthy mind can drive itself into despair, can let itself wallow in sadness and even produce thoughts of suicide.
After a year and a half of living as a depressed Christian, the unfathomable became poignantly clear. I was depressed.
I knew what it felt like to not know where God is and to not know how to fix anything in your life. I knew how it felt to be the recipient of the sometimes hollow and distant sympathy, “I’ll pray for you.” I knew what it was like to have no motivation to accomplish anything because I was so consumed with my own problems. I now knew what depression looked like because I could look in the mirror and truly see myself there.
Now I know how real depression is, and how real struggle is in the spiritual life. I can no longer pigeonhole people who are truly suffering as “just not that spiritual.” People who seem to be on the outside of what I think is spiritual are usually the ones who know better than to have such a category. And I can only pray that someday God will bless me enough to be like them.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Miller on The Brew; For Your Consideration
I just posted my review of Donald Miller's two newest books on The Brew.
I also added the first resource on the Emergent Church Movement on The Brew's Culture tab. It's a history and description of the Emergent and Emerging movements by pretty much the leader of it all, Mark Driscol.
I'm going to use The Culture Tab, formerly used for movie reviews, as a resource for all things Emergent this month. If you have any other good articles I can post or link to, let me know and I'll add it.
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Watched For Your Consideration. Had only a couple of chuckles. Or chortles.
I also added the first resource on the Emergent Church Movement on The Brew's Culture tab. It's a history and description of the Emergent and Emerging movements by pretty much the leader of it all, Mark Driscol.
I'm going to use The Culture Tab, formerly used for movie reviews, as a resource for all things Emergent this month. If you have any other good articles I can post or link to, let me know and I'll add it.
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Watched For Your Consideration. Had only a couple of chuckles. Or chortles.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Depression Series # 2
So here's the next in my depression series. This article I wrote for a counseling journal I put together for my senior print media project in school. I called the journal, "Issues", and it was pretty well received. I did a reprint a few years later when it became very relevant at my alma mater.
So this is what I was thinking about depression four years ago.
"Living With Depression"
Is this what Hell will be like?
To not have any connection with God
My memories of Him are all that’s left
But the past is gone
The future can’t be reached
And I’m just here
That’s what goes through my head when I’m depressed. God isn’t real and seems like merely a nice idea that a lot of people have. There’s not really a way to contact Him or see a response because you’re just here with all your thoughts to keep you company. And those thoughts are not usually kind.
Thoughts of regret, sadness and guilt were what consumed me for the longest time. I would drown in a tidal wave of guilt because I didn’t complete some small task on time or to the tee. Perfectionistic tendencies still set up shop in my brain despite my having studied Galatians in depth and marveled over 'grace' my freshman year. Forgetting to ‘do my devos’ was one of the largest initiators of guilt because if God was important, I’d make time for Him.
I’d regret not saying or doing something I ‘should’ have done or I’d just feel sad that I wasn’t connected to God. All of this would just create this cloud of sadness that would wrap around me for long stretches of time. I’d just sit and think about how I wasn’t right with God and how bad I felt about what I did 'wrong'.
I’d try to read my Bible and pray more but all these things were just physical acts that had no meaning. There was no God behind any of it. I could read for 24 hours straight and still not be right with God. Something major was wrong with me and I didn’t know what to do to get better.
I could try to do other spiritual things to fix it but my thoughts were still wrong. I could pray and God might have heard me but I was still consumed by wrong thoughts. These thought patterns had grown into me like ivy around a house and could not be cleared away without extensive work.
I was also numb to most everything. I didn’t really connect with people or to sad events that I heard about. Someone died of cancer, committed suicide, or was raped? “Life goes on,” I might think. It would take something extreme, movies like Magnolia or stories by Flannery O’Conner perhaps, to revive my senses to a low-level working order. Existential philosophers, like Søren Kierkegaard, also became geniuses to me.
I ache to be alive again
I ache to feel what feelings are
I yearn to know the experience of worship
I yearn to have the words truly affect me
Does what I’m singing really mean anything?
Can saying what’s true mean something
Even if it’s just an physical act?
I can’t remember when I first started to be depressed but I do remember when God reminded He was still there. Halfway through this past summer, I had a few thoughts that were pivotal in coping with depression: “This isn’t going to last forever. You won’t always be like this.”
I was pretty sure this was from God because my mind could never have produced this during that time. There were no romantic notions or spiritual revelations going through my mind. If the clouds in the sky spread apart and sunlight broke through to warm my numbed skin, it wouldn’t register. I’d see the scene above and think, “That’s kinda nice.” The two thoughts from God were awesome but they didn’t change how I thought.
I’m not sure how long it took, but I started to realize how huge a role my thoughts played. Even if I just finished some awesome time in the Word, the depressed thoughts could still take over and make me waste another two hours sitting and wallowing. I started to ask God to help me with my thoughts. I didn’t know what or how to do anything but I just needed help.
More time passed and I started to realize quicker when I would be depressed. I could almost figure out a specific time of the day when an episode started so I kept praying and asking for more help. I eventually was able to pin point what events triggered the thoughts of guilt, sadness or regret, but only after more time and stretches of depression had passed.
It was about then that I realized how much I truly needed God. I realized how idiotic was the Schuler-esque, American evangelical idea of changing your thinking through your own will power. A person’s thoughts are more powerful than we realize and any self-help fluff you can buy in a Christian bookstore can’t truly fix them. Only a genuine relationship with God, and perhaps some counseling, can really change negative thought patterns.
As much as I wanted to get help from a counselor, I never did, which was probably to my detriment. After almost a year of suffering, I finally was able to figure out my thought patterns and know what triggered a downward spiral of thoughts. Whenever I realized I was in that state, I could stop and ask God for help again with my thoughts.
Sometimes the episodes last a day, sometimes only a half-hour, but they haven’t gone away completely. I've come to realize that this is not just something you can cut out of your life. Overcoming depression would be awesome if all you had to do would be cut out part of your brain. But things aren't that easy. Depression is something you have to live with, but not give in to. It's almost like this sadness, guilt, or despair has to play with happiness, joy and contentment. Joy plays hopscotch with Sadness and cheers him on so he can figure out that he is Son of God. Despair is given an underdog on the swing set by Contentment and is made to laugh and smile.
Yet whenever I do get depressed, I see, yet again, how much I need God and turn to him. God won’t seem real and there won’t seem to be any reason to even consider getting better. But just asking for help, be it from counselors or God, is the only way anyone will ever get better.
So this is what I was thinking about depression four years ago.
"Living With Depression"
Is this what Hell will be like?
To not have any connection with God
My memories of Him are all that’s left
But the past is gone
The future can’t be reached
And I’m just here
That’s what goes through my head when I’m depressed. God isn’t real and seems like merely a nice idea that a lot of people have. There’s not really a way to contact Him or see a response because you’re just here with all your thoughts to keep you company. And those thoughts are not usually kind.
Thoughts of regret, sadness and guilt were what consumed me for the longest time. I would drown in a tidal wave of guilt because I didn’t complete some small task on time or to the tee. Perfectionistic tendencies still set up shop in my brain despite my having studied Galatians in depth and marveled over 'grace' my freshman year. Forgetting to ‘do my devos’ was one of the largest initiators of guilt because if God was important, I’d make time for Him.
I’d regret not saying or doing something I ‘should’ have done or I’d just feel sad that I wasn’t connected to God. All of this would just create this cloud of sadness that would wrap around me for long stretches of time. I’d just sit and think about how I wasn’t right with God and how bad I felt about what I did 'wrong'.
I’d try to read my Bible and pray more but all these things were just physical acts that had no meaning. There was no God behind any of it. I could read for 24 hours straight and still not be right with God. Something major was wrong with me and I didn’t know what to do to get better.
I could try to do other spiritual things to fix it but my thoughts were still wrong. I could pray and God might have heard me but I was still consumed by wrong thoughts. These thought patterns had grown into me like ivy around a house and could not be cleared away without extensive work.
I was also numb to most everything. I didn’t really connect with people or to sad events that I heard about. Someone died of cancer, committed suicide, or was raped? “Life goes on,” I might think. It would take something extreme, movies like Magnolia or stories by Flannery O’Conner perhaps, to revive my senses to a low-level working order. Existential philosophers, like Søren Kierkegaard, also became geniuses to me.
I ache to be alive again
I ache to feel what feelings are
I yearn to know the experience of worship
I yearn to have the words truly affect me
Does what I’m singing really mean anything?
Can saying what’s true mean something
Even if it’s just an physical act?
I can’t remember when I first started to be depressed but I do remember when God reminded He was still there. Halfway through this past summer, I had a few thoughts that were pivotal in coping with depression: “This isn’t going to last forever. You won’t always be like this.”
I was pretty sure this was from God because my mind could never have produced this during that time. There were no romantic notions or spiritual revelations going through my mind. If the clouds in the sky spread apart and sunlight broke through to warm my numbed skin, it wouldn’t register. I’d see the scene above and think, “That’s kinda nice.” The two thoughts from God were awesome but they didn’t change how I thought.
I’m not sure how long it took, but I started to realize how huge a role my thoughts played. Even if I just finished some awesome time in the Word, the depressed thoughts could still take over and make me waste another two hours sitting and wallowing. I started to ask God to help me with my thoughts. I didn’t know what or how to do anything but I just needed help.
More time passed and I started to realize quicker when I would be depressed. I could almost figure out a specific time of the day when an episode started so I kept praying and asking for more help. I eventually was able to pin point what events triggered the thoughts of guilt, sadness or regret, but only after more time and stretches of depression had passed.
It was about then that I realized how much I truly needed God. I realized how idiotic was the Schuler-esque, American evangelical idea of changing your thinking through your own will power. A person’s thoughts are more powerful than we realize and any self-help fluff you can buy in a Christian bookstore can’t truly fix them. Only a genuine relationship with God, and perhaps some counseling, can really change negative thought patterns.
As much as I wanted to get help from a counselor, I never did, which was probably to my detriment. After almost a year of suffering, I finally was able to figure out my thought patterns and know what triggered a downward spiral of thoughts. Whenever I realized I was in that state, I could stop and ask God for help again with my thoughts.
Sometimes the episodes last a day, sometimes only a half-hour, but they haven’t gone away completely. I've come to realize that this is not just something you can cut out of your life. Overcoming depression would be awesome if all you had to do would be cut out part of your brain. But things aren't that easy. Depression is something you have to live with, but not give in to. It's almost like this sadness, guilt, or despair has to play with happiness, joy and contentment. Joy plays hopscotch with Sadness and cheers him on so he can figure out that he is Son of God. Despair is given an underdog on the swing set by Contentment and is made to laugh and smile.
Yet whenever I do get depressed, I see, yet again, how much I need God and turn to him. God won’t seem real and there won’t seem to be any reason to even consider getting better. But just asking for help, be it from counselors or God, is the only way anyone will ever get better.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Editorial; Evil Dead 2; A Nyquil Night
I posted March's editorial on The Brew today.
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I watched the Evil Dead 2 tonight, as well. Easier to take than the first. Had a classic scene of Bruce Campbell fighting against his own hand, which had been infected with evil.
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I'm also fighting a wicked cold/flu/seasonal malady. Tally of everything I've taken today: 2 packets of Emergen-C; Thera-Flu, 2 Aleves. And I'm soon going to be very good friends with a bottle Nyquil. Oh, the sweetness of a Nyquil night and a good night's sleep.
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I watched the Evil Dead 2 tonight, as well. Easier to take than the first. Had a classic scene of Bruce Campbell fighting against his own hand, which had been infected with evil.
------------
I'm also fighting a wicked cold/flu/seasonal malady. Tally of everything I've taken today: 2 packets of Emergen-C; Thera-Flu, 2 Aleves. And I'm soon going to be very good friends with a bottle Nyquil. Oh, the sweetness of a Nyquil night and a good night's sleep.
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