Because wisdom is sexy

I admit that one of the things I look for in a church is a solid teaching grounded in unwavering theology. Although I have never been to Mars Hill, I know that that church is the one place that has exactly that.

He's quirky, he's smart, he's funny. I'd like to meet him one day, give him a hug, bake him oatmeal cookies. Or maybe I'll just oggle at him in the front row of his huge church in Michigan. I found the website to his church at a searching time in my life, and I'm glad to say that I'm part of the 50,000 online listeners who religiously download the mp3's to the teachings at Mars Hill. I consider myself a changed person, or rather, a changing person because of the things I listen to at Mars Hill, and I can't wait to see how I'll turn out keeping up the way I am right now. It's true what the Bible says: Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

Anyhoo, without further adieu, I present to you Rob Bell:

Snippets of today

...or for the lack of anything to blog.

I woke up at 11 am reluctantly thinking that the sun was still angled at 6 am. It was terribly dark at noon.

I'm no longer as sick as I was in the last week. Whatever strain of flu I had, it made my week seem like two. Now I wish that Monday wouldn't be so near.

I went on a podcast marathon today.

I am in love with the mind of Rob Bell. He makes me wanna go to a Bible school. I may just lose my virginity in some Bible school. While that (the latter) would sound awesome and silly at the same time...nah.

I want to move out but can't afford it. It feels wrong, though, the motivation behind it. I'd love to live with friends and all that, but the honest to goodness reason behind that would be my mother. I know she loves me, but the way she lashes out sometimes makes me feel like I'm a spineless 12 year old. (I had issues when I was twelve...memories of being in the sixth grade are somehow blocked out, except for, strangley, grunge music)

I had a weird dream again this morning. It involved clean subway trains and quirky situations and whatnot. It was peculiar.

The other night birthed an epiphany to me. An epiphany that is being realized in fragments.

The -ber months are here. January, in its mysteriousness, seems closer than it should be, and it looks scary. For now at least.

Dreams, a nasty fever, and taking it on with a weird strain of christianity

It's amazing how sleep gets interesting when you're sick. Dreams come to you like unexpected mold on a healthy looking loaf of bread.

There's this one dream where I was in a yoga class in a parking lot of a mall, the kind that's indoors and the atmosphere resembles the lungs of lung cancer victim. Then for some reason, the yoga class evolves into a musical theater workshop that's about to end. I see my family drive by, so I hitch with them. As I gather my stuff into my bag getting ready for the car, I see my best friend ride a cab. I run over to her since she's just hopped in and I see another friend in the car, someone we aren't even particularly close to. Then I wake up.

I've never been this sick before: getting out of bed because it feels tiring, crawling back to bed because I can't take any more television. Reading, sadly, becomes taxing, and the need for looking at porn suddenly becomes pointless. I need to visit xxxchurch.com more often.

Thankfully, I'm getting better. I'm breaking out sweating, thus killing the fever, my nose isn't as runny anymore, and my head is no longer woozy.

===

I'm pondering over the idea of declaring myself officially unchurched. You know, letting my pastor know and all that shit. An old high school buddy did it, but he isn't the guy I used to know anymore. I'm still me. Only smarter and, well, 25.

Our pastor's wife asked how I was and tailed the conversation with "so where do you worship?" It pissed me off. Sure, she's glad to see me, I'm glad to see her, but when I answered her question in the form of a bigger church within the city (which I haven't been going to lately because of some lame excuse), she made a sad remark that basically said "you shouldn't leave the church you grew up in." Because we all know that me leaving means 1 less of the 10,000 members they soooo want to have. With one pastor ONE LONE PASTOR leading the flock. The downfall of Moses. Please. I'm a Christian, but no the kind that makes up all kinds of crap and forces me to be friends with people I grew up with but never got along with. The dilemma of Joseph and the 10 older brothers.

God. Our church is a small mega-church wannabe. It's so f*cking sad.

Bitterness is cheap, or a letter to an ambiguous friend and the pleasures of the anonymous blog

The sweet thing about you on television is that had I auditioned, I'd be your friend all over again. But I find you still fondly pretentious, as if that's the only way I should know you. I reply to your alleged pretentiousness with hearltfelt congratulations and well meant pleasantries but you reply with a coldness that makes years of knowing you pure torture.

But I'll still root for you, support you, tell others how proud I am to know you. Yet immature as it sounds, I'll act like the friend you've always known but with the consciousness that I fucking still have issues with you.

Good luck, though.

A prayer

I don't want to start this by saying "the best about coming back to You is..." It makes Your faithfulness a commodity easily taken for granted, therefore misunderstanding it.

I find it so easy falling back into Your welcome embrace after cavorting with the fantasies of many. I feel like an heiress falling from grace from the eyes of many save from the forgiveness of her father. I can't understand that part about myself but recoiling from Your grace is like denying my humanity and the need for it to mend its imperfections.

For some reason

Two things that spiritually overwhelm me: Showers and time spent with friends.

Having just come from almost 6 hours spending time with friends, being the loudest people at Seattle's Best, at a movie theater watching Snakes On A Plane, and the only people at McDonalds before closing, I feel joy pent up inside of me and all I could do is just feel happy. Like the moment stretches itself into next, like it's expanding. Like God making it so indelible that you're happy, and you can't help but notice it.

For some reason, I feel an overwhelming need to pray in the shower. No, not the kind of prayer that stems out of asking for something. It's more like, a sense of feeling everything at the same time and wanting to give it back, to release it. And as the water drips down my skin, I more often than not feel cleansed.