Confetti in my coffee

There were small colorful pieces of confetti in my coffee when the waiter brought it to my table.

I was cool about it. I gently dipped my pinky into the coffee to extricate the bits out of my beverage (pinky works best, trust me). It’s a trick I’ve always used to get unwanted things out of a beverage—a fly out of wine, for instance. It virtually always works if you remain persistent.

Then there’s the little trick I play on myself that goes along with this technique. It’s called the self-hypnosis head waggle. It’s subtle and usually lasts for less than a second. It marks the moment after I’ve removed the offending insect or bit of trash from my beverage that I convince myself to take the next drink.

The rule is that if you can take the first post-impurity drink without any detectable altering of beverage quality then what you removed did not, in fact, have any type of negative impact on the beverage. As a matter of fact, once you’ve made it past the second drink without incident then you can convince yourself that whatever had been floating in your drink never really existed. Now that the self-hypnosis is complete, I am free to move forward with whatever activity, conversation, or thought I was engaged in at the time I noticed something in my cup.

Let me back up a minute…I know that it happened, but if I’m able to wipe it from my memory then I can argue that it might as well have never happened. You know—if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s there to hear it… It’s that kind of a thing.

Look—I know that there has to have been some kind of fly residue left floating in the wine, but it’s cool if it never actually happened. Ok, it did happen, but I’ve intentionally wiped it from my memory so it NEVER actually happened to ME.

Alright! I know that if I analyze my “pinky technique” it involves pinching the offending insect between my finger and the side of the glass. I also know that this type of pressure is certain to produce further contamination of insect particles and “juices”.

Aaaaaa, self-hypnosis head waggle X 3!

I’m good. I’m good. Never happened. Whew. Where was I?

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So, there’s this confetti in my coffee. I remove the three bits of paper and begin to enjoy my mug o’ lifejuice. It’s an inconsequential moment that never fazes me. No harm—no foul. We move on. Life’s not perfect. Confetti is always better than a bug because it’s easier to forget the confetti than it is the bug.

I’ve now spent 10 minutes writing about something that I’ve told you doesn’t matter and might as well have never happened. I must be losing it, right?

What if you go to that same restaurant once a week…twice a week…maybe even every day and each time they bring you your coffee it has a few tiny bits of confetti floating on the top? Aren’t you gonna start asking questions? But, if it didn’t matter the first or second or third time, why does it begin to take on a whole different level of significance thereafter?

But it does matter. Confetti doesn’t belong in coffee. It’s out of place. It has no business being there the first time, but it sure as hell shouldn’t be showing up on a continual basis.

What if this took place at every restaurant you went to? What if, suddenly, every cup of coffee you ordered began to show up with a few tiny bits of colorful confetti floating on the top? Wouldn’t you start to get a little freaked out?

And then you notice that everyone else is methodically going about removing the confetti with their pinkies without a second thought before enjoying their hot beverage. Now things are beginning to get truly bizarre. When did everyone but you get the memo that confetti was expected in coffee?

Freakin’ weird, man!

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Here’s my rant:

The inconsistencies and peccadillos of organized Western Christianity aren’t as much the problem as the consistency with which they occur. I really shouldn’t have to say any more.

The bigger debate should be about if these things are simply confetti on the surface of the coffee or are they flies floating in the wine. There is a huge difference…

If it’s all just confetti then I’m very wrong concerning my assessment of church politics, theology, worship of doctrine, and passive aggressive mind control. A little confetti thrown into the coffee shouldn’t keep me from enjoying the fantastic migas they serve at this restaurant I frequent so often.

But if it’s flies, gnats, or any form of living creatures floating in the drink then I’m afraid the quality of the food being served isn’t gonna matter. If you can’t keep the bugs out of my drink and don’t care enough to at least remove them with your own pinky (which is dishonest and entirely gross on another level) then I don’t even want to think about what might be in the omelet. Erp!

That’s not all—the fact that the waiter seems indignant when I’m not willing to perform my self-hypnosis head waggle every single time this happens really pisses me off. “None of the other customers seem to have a problem with the impurities in their drinks, sir.” What a prick!

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Summation:

I don’t expect perfect. I don’t even expect “very good” every single time. It’s a restaurant. People run restaurants. People are never perfect. Groups of people are very rarely consistently good every single time.

My problem is that I think I see legs on this “confetti” and I’m not interested in someone else’s self-serving analysis of MY drink. Even if I’m wrong about the legs…doesn’t it seem weird that the beverage always has to be skimmed before I can enjoy it?

What in the hell is up with that?!

Religious Misfit

I am a spiritual rogue, scallywag, and rapscallion. I forage for revelation and enlightenment through the trash heaps of the fundamentalist evangelical religious practices that I've grown up with.

I am a Christian wanderer looking for a congregation inclusive of all humanity. I value religious practices for others and find no value in them for myself. My mantra is, "Truth, be my guide," but I'm unsure if I recognize Truth anymore.

I'm holding out hope that even if I don't understand anything about the Holy Spirit--that it's presence in me will still guide like a rudder.

My "church" is the road. My pew is my Harley. My pastor is the sun, wind, and sky.

I've been rejected by being ignored. I am a spiritual orphan. But that's okay.

My hope is in God...not religion. God hasn't let me down even if organized religion has.

My wayward shrine is the side of my daughter's bed where I pray for her to survive my failings. I pray for her soul while she sleeps and then I lightly rest next to my wife-angel (always in a heightened state of protection).

I will defend against anything that threatens this family...including religion.

Open to the elements

I want to live out in the open where I get to see the trees sway in the wind and feel the sun on my face from time to time. Sure, living in the open presents its hazards, but there’s nothing like watching a gentle curtain of rain approach from the West atop a hill. Isolation is highly overrated—especially when the far-reaching result is isolation from other people that need us and have much to teach us in return.

Most of my Christian friends are convinced that they have something genuinely wonderful to share with the world around them. The problem is that sitting in their spiritual bunker doesn’t quite lend itself to sharing anything with anyone.

Come out into the light, folks! Take a breath of fresh air! The mission field is OUTSIDE your spiritual bunker.

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Fully Man:

This Jesus didn’t party with hookers, IRS agents, AIDS patients, and criminals with a disapproving scowl on his face. He spent time with them as you would at a family reunion. He listened to their stories, laughed at their jokes, and played with their kids. This Jesus wasn’t HOLY or SACRED. This Jesus rebuked those that considered themselves HOLY and SACRED. This Jesus told funny jokes, walked hand in hand with prostitutes, and was genuinely moved by people’s stories of tragedy in their life. This Jesus was UNHOLY and UNSACRED. 

Fully God:

This Jesus is entirely HOLY and SACRED. This is the heart of Jesus. This is the word, as it were, that can coexist as flesh (fully man)—John 1:14.

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We are being called to be both.

We are being called to serve one another.

To serve denotes humility and bestows honor even if it hasn’t been earned. To serve is to treat the OTHER person as if THEY are HOLY and SACRED.

We treat them that way regardless of their beliefs because we are Jesus—because we are Jesus (fully man) with hearts of Jesus (fully God).

When we set ourselves, our beliefs, and our actions apart and adorn our t-shirts with the word REDEEMED across the chest we are not representing any form of Jesus. In that moment, we are representing only ourselves.

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So mock me all you want. Shout me down. Quote scripture AT me. Pray for me to change my “wicked ways.” I appreciate your concern, and I will indulge your ignorance. But at the end of the day, I am a missionary to a very foreign land with its own customs, language, and sense of morality.

I can walk into that biker bar feeling right at home with my vulgar t-shirt and my tats and my fixed blade knife attached to my hip in all my UNHOLY UNSACRED glory and partner with the people I meet there—you cannot. I know their language. I know their customs. I value their beliefs. They can smell a phony a mile away. You are not welcome. Don’t even try.

But many of us in that bar have hearts that are HOLY and SACRED even if you can’t see it on the surface. We readily admit that we don’t understand all the inner workings of God and the complexities of the Bible. However, we do know that there is a God and that He/She loves us deeply enough to saddle right on up to the bar here with us and buy a round of drinks for everyone.

Say what you will about protecting your faith through the judicious management of your outward appearance and actions. Jesus (fully man) said that it’s the heart of the lesbian – biker – criminal - pro-choicer – Buddhist – atheist - Muslim that matters. Guess what—Jesus (fully God) loves them all.

Why not worship Jesus (fully man)? Because He isn’t worthy of praise. Worship Jesus (fully God). Worship THAT Jesus through the service of others—not in a pew singing old tired washed up songs at a wooden idol on the wall. It’s the heart of Jesus that matters and it’s the heart of us all that must carry THAT Jesus into the world with great honor, vigor, and resilience.

"Hi, my name is Bonar and I'm a heretic."

Welcome to my mission field. It is raw…

What Swanny learned in prison

What I Learned in Prison
by Brian Swan "Swanny"

"Then one day it hit me like a ton of bricks. The church I attended was nothing like the church I read about in scripture, it was the small group of inmates I met with that felt like community to me. To me this was what helped me determine what “church” really meant, and one of the main reasons I left the “institutional” church.

The talk in prison was about one thing only.. Christ. And, when we talked we spoke from the heart. There was no hiding behind a fake facade and acting like somebody we were not. The only difference between the inmates and me is that they got caught. Transparency was there every time, and we shared life together. We were all just a bunch of sinners sitting around talking about the only thing that mattered… Christ."

[Full Article and Comments] 

Stick with what you know

by bonar crump

To the Matthew Paul Turners, Rachel Held Evanses, Jen Hatmakers, Jason Boyetts, Shane Claibornes, Jon Acuffs, Steve & Jamie Wrights, Jimmy Spencers, and Donald Millers in all of us:

What’s the common thread?

What’s the driving force behind our daily spiritual frustrations?

Why do we see certain things so differently than our critics?

Why are we driven to explain our positions ad nauseam?

I have a proposition so simple as to be considered naïve, ignorant, or merely unsophisticated.

Let’s talk about experiential learning, Experientialism, and experiential knowledge. No fun, you say?! Come on…we’re gonna keep this short and sweet. It’s really not very complicated.

I think it’s helpful if you follow the above hyperlinks, but it’s not necessary for the sake of this tiny little idea. As I’m sure you can gather, the root of each of the terms I’ve introduced is experience…and that’s really what we’re after.

In most of our debates, discussions, and enigmatic descriptions of Christian spirituality there is a fundamental flaw to our understanding—it’s the lack of experience. I’ve written about, taught, and spoken of so many topics over the years that I had no experiential knowledge of that I really have no business presenting this idea. However, “even a blind dog finds a bone now and again.”

I’m not suggesting I’ve stumbled on the missing link. I’m just offering a simple idea…I love simple.

What do our discussions look like if we agree to the absolute rule of experiential knowledge? Like discussions of the pitfalls of alcohol, abortion, and homosexuality to site a very few examples.

I am not homosexual. If I agree to the rule of experiential knowledge then I agree to declare my opinions about homosexuality as subjective. Even better – I reach a point that if I want to discover some objectivity about homosexuality then I have to go speak to a homosexual. However, no matter how much time I spend with that person or how informative they may be, I realize that I cannot speak, write, or teach objectively about the subject because I’ve never experienced it. My opinion of right or wrong, by birth or by choice, productive or destructive is objectively irrelevant. Why? Because I am not gay…yes, it’s really that simple.

This idea of limiting oneself to experiential knowledge comes out of the observation that the most widely publicized dumbasses we encounter on a regular basis are vomiting gallons of subjective knowledge into our mouths as if we were baby birds nest-bound and hungry for whatever we can get our beaks on.

I am the member of a small group of Christians convinced by my experiential knowledge that all of Western organized Christian religion is the “offending hand.” It’s what I’ve experienced, and I am offended by those that attempt to devalue my experience. But it’s just MY experience. It’s purely subjective.

My “church” is the open road. My pew is an ’07 Dyna Lowrider. My pastor is the wind, sun, and sky. I don’t need your approval any more than you need mine. But out of respect for one another, if we can agree to the rules of experiential knowledge then it becomes impossible to judge one another.

Now comes the tricky part…in what ways does our relationship with the Bible change if we approach it with the rule of experiential knowledge? That’s a multifaceted concept better left for another day. Suffice it to say that the vast majority of what we loooooove to pontificate about concerning “what the Bible says” or “what the Bible means” is based on subjective knowledge. We teach it as objective, but we don’t experience it. We label our opinions objective, but we don’t have any experience with the subject matter.

Rant:

If you aren’t homosexual then maybe you should shut the hell up. If you attend “church” every week, I could really give a rat’s ass. If you don’t drink alcohol or hang with people that do then piss off. If you’re a man then you should keep your piehole shut about the role of women. If you don’t use curse words then fuck off. If you’ve never had an abortion then I suggest you take a flying leap (and if you’re a man talking about abortion then kiss my ass). If you’ve never experienced it firsthand then your ideas, opinions, and evaluations don’t mean diddly squat.

Why did Jesus hang out with the people that he did? Based on what I’ve written here you can guess how I would answer this question. However, it’s only my opinion, so the objective answer for all of us should be WE DON’T KNOW.

Repeat after me:

·         I don’t know what it’s like to be gay.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to be a part of a brotherhood of bikers.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to be 14 and pregnant.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to be taught from the time I’m a small child that because I have a uterus that I’m not as valuable as someone with a prostate.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in an Islamic nation and never hear the message of Christ.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to bond with people over a bottle of wine, keg of beer, or glass of bourbon.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to have a spouse punch me in the face.

·         I don’t know how good it feels to scream the work “fuck” as loud as I can at the world.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to face foreclosure knowing that my “Christian” friends are going to talk about me behind my back.

·         I don’t know what it’s like to have to leave my child with someone I don’t fully trust in order to earn a paycheck.

·         I only know me…and I’m pretty sure that I’m more fucked up than anyone else I know.

Pity me if you like, but this is my mantra. This should be all of our mantras…

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My grandma, who died in December 2010, distrusted “niggers”, but she had no experience. She loathed the idea of the ordination of a gay bishop in her beloved Episcopalian church, but she had no experience. She was very bold in telling everyone that they’d gained weight since the last time she’d seen them, but she’d been a size 2 all her life. She would spew any opinion that she had at the moment as a means of criticism (or personal attack) and then excuse herself with “I’m just being honest,” but she never knew what it felt like to have such venomous “honesty” directed at her.

…..and I loved that woman very deeply…..

Far be it for me to claim experiential knowledge of her life. She was the way she was, and now I’m betting everything I’ve got that she’s something entirely different.

Experiential knowledge –

Next time you meet a blind person, ask him to explain the color Blue. If you do, I hope he jabs you in the eye with his cane.