Writer, blocked.

It was all going so well.

Earlier this year, it seemed that a new creative streak had grabbed hold of me. Needing an outlet for some creative type of writing now that I'm working with much dryer source material than I was at the paper, I joined a writer's group. For several weeks--months, even--I attended regularly as my schedule allowed and brought in short stories that I'd write for our exercises.

These were actually pretty good little pieces as well. I was surprised how much of a story could be written in just 48 hours with just two words given to me. The exercises stretched my creative muscles and I found myself surprised at the work I was creating...these weren't brilliant pieces but, given the constraints, most of them were fairly solid and I discovered an affinity for working with broken, flawed characters.

Not only that, but other types of writing got a little creative push as well. I blogged more regularly and passionately, not afraid to stir up a little controversy over politics and theology. I even began working on a novel, transforming a screenplay I had written in college into something a little more literary and fleshed-out. I was a writing machine and even decided it was time to close out my Xanga account--which felt so amateurish--and start two new blogs: one devoted to film, the other the one you're reading right now.

And then suddenly, it stopped.

Not totally, mind you. I still pick up some freelance movie reviews for the paper and, upon publication, they find their way into my blog (http://motownmovies.blogspot.com for your information). And I'm sure I've made some half-hearted attempts at writing short stories or getting back into the novel.

But for the most part, out of nowhere, it cooled down quite a bit. Most alarmingly was the sudden disinterest in blogging. Faithful readers of my Xanga (and yes, they were out there) could attest that I was an addicted blogger; nearly every day I wrote some sort of post and it wasn't uncommon for me to write an entry two, maybe three, times a day. Lately, it's been rare to get two posts in the same month!

What's even more odd is that it stopped just as I was getting into it. The week I turned 30, which was the week I opened this blog, I was brimming with creativity. I had posts on turning 30, meditations about life and creativity, new writing exercises and a good run of movie reviews. And then, not a month later, things just kind of ground to a halt. The writing exercises ceased first. Then the movie reviews began to get more sporadic (although to be fair, there was a period in August where I was running too much for work to see movies on the side). And then the daily blogging, which had been an outlet and source of sanity for me for five years, began to wither.

I recently began to wonder just what had caused this.

It couldn't have been turning 30--I don't think the symbolic change of a number is really enough to stifle your creativity.

It could very well have been the stress of many changes in my life--work got hectic for a bit, I had some major car issues and went through a move. Now that those things are settled down I'm starting to get some of those creative impulses back.

And it could also just be that the full-time writing I do during the week was starting to take its toll on my creative nature; I write about science, technology and business. Trust me, there's nothing creative, sexy or fun about the things I right during the week...but would that just make the need for a creative outlet even stronger?

And then it hit me. I did the one thing that was most-likely to send my writing off on the skids:

I fell in love.

Back a few weeks before my 30th birthday, I met K. And we hit it off and it developed into a nice, strong relationship. We've been dating about four months now and I couldn't be happier. Most of our weekends are spent together, we talk on the phone nearly every night and I absolutely, positively love everything about her. Yes, I'm also the sappy romantic who likes talking about his girlfriend every minute, thinks life gets so much better with her around and walks with a bit more of a spring in his step because of this new person in my life. It's pretty great.

But when your writing centers around broken, struggling characters navigating a post-Fall world, it kind of throws a twist into your writing mojo.

I know, I know: love is supposed to inspire people. Relationships give you a muse. The best writing has been about love and romance, filled with sonnets and poems. And I do believe K. is my muse; she inspires me to do my best and push myself.

But my fictional writing has always been about people who have to endure something. They struggle, question and grow. And when your head is in the clouds, it's hard to bring yourself to that level.

It brings up an interesting question: do artists, particularly writers, need tragedy to do their best work?

Looking back, most of my strongest writing came out of tumultuous periods in my life. I was most creative when I was broke, lonely and confused. The questions came easier, I was more willing to follow my imagination wherever it led and I found that the difficulty of my situations made me more empathetic toward my characters. Many other artistic types have said the same thing: that adversity is the soil in which story begins to grow.

But there's also truth in the fact that creativity responds to joy. As Christians, we should know this: we are worshippers by nature. Our job is to respond to what we see God doing. Our creativity--even if it venturs to dark places--is ultimately an expression of joy and worship over who God is and what He's doing. So as worshippers, we should find that any situation--tragic or joyful--is fertile ground for us to dig in our heels and start writing, painting, singing...whatever the gift is that God has blessed us with.

By the way, I don't think it's the relationship itself that has put a temporary halt on my creativity--and if it was, I'd be much happier being with K. and never writing again than to write without her. But I think it's so new and so nice right now that it's just shaken me off my routine and habits. As this new part of my life becomes a regular part of my life, I think I'll find my creative impulses coming back. My urge to blog has already started to be fired up again and I hope that soon I'll also be pulling my book of writing exercises off the wall and approaching that novel again. I even have the germ of an idea for a screenplay or two rattling around, so maybe I'm starting to get a bit ready to do some serious writing.

Maybe I just have to train myself that, no matter what the season or whatever the circumstance, to write. Even if it's no good, even if it falls flat. Just pick up the pen and write.

At least now I have someone by my side who can provide a captive audience.

--CW

"Where Would Jesus Worship?"

So, my blogging has been extremely off lately--especially when compared to what I used to be able to do with my Xanga account. My hope is to get into a habit of blogging several times a week and I'm hoping to set aside some time just for that--Constant Readers, if you're still out there, please be patient! Also, I realize there's an inherent irony in blogging about church on a day when I wasn't able to make it to worship services. Sometimes life's like that :-)

If you step into a Christian bookstore lately, you'll find that it's very cool to bash on the church these days.

The leaders of the Emerging Church--a movement I thought would have fizzled out by now--are always writing books about how spirituality is much more laudable than religion. George Barna has been busy gathering statistics and writing tomes about the death of traditional church as we know it. A look on the shelf at Family Christian Stores will likely show books about how to find the Gospel in "Twighlight" and "The Simpsons" and how Church can be enjoyed just as easily at Starbucks.

As the view of Christians in popular culture continues to diminish, it seems that even those within the body are prone to lash out. And while there is a place for prophetic preaching and warning about the sin that often exists in the church, I think there are some people who just have been hurt by the Body in the past or, for some reason, have an axe to grind with The Church and want people to run away from local congregations and into more user-friendly environment that goes easy on guilt, doesn't make a big deal out of sin and lets everyone experience "The Jesus Way" in their own way--although every one's "own way" seems to involve viewings of "The Matrix," and multiple listenings of "The Joshua Tree." (Full disclosure: I like both "The Matrix" and U2.)

I've even fallen into the trap myself--going from having a healthy skepticism about the behavior of believers to buying into the lie that the Church is diseased and dying; that the Church is doing more harm than good in our culture. I've bemoaned the Church's error of getting in bed with political parties, the attitude with which Christians have addressed the world and the legalism that often still runs rampant in congregations.

But at the end of the day, I have to realize that I still love the Church. It's Christ's Bride. It's the family I'm called into. It's the collection of broken and flawed people that, so help me, I love. The local church may have flaws and irritations but I think it's a beautiful, beautiful thing. It's a collection of broken people that meet regularly to celebrate the One who binds them together. In all its flaws and foibles, the Church is a beautiful thing and I'm getting a bit irritated with all the books and websites touting the end of "Churchianity" as we know it.

This hasn't been an out-of-the-blue realization. Earlier this year I attempted to leave the Church I had attended for seven years only to find myself returning because I love my flawed family too much. Just recently I finished DeYoung and Kluck's phenomenal book "Why We Love the Church," which is a celebration of the very Biblical and very necessary institution of the Church. And in my own quiet times I've been reading through Ephesians and been reminded time and again how God brought the Church together under Christ to glorify Him.

So, in the spirit of celebrating the Church, I'm undertaking a series of blog entries about the Church. I have no idea how many entries this will entail or whether I'm going to stick to straight-out theological concepts or my own personal musings...most likely a mixture of both. Neither will it be a daily post...instead I would like it to last through the month of November, culminating around Thanksgiving. Maybe it will simply become a recurring feature on this blog. We'll see.

For the first part, though, I would like to address this statement that I've heard several times and probably have even used myself.

It's the idea that if Christ was walking the Earth today, He would not belong to a Church but would spend His time in gay bars and on street corners ministering to sinners. After all, He saved his harshest words not for the whores and drunkards, but for the religious leaders of that time.

First, let me agree that there is truth in that statement. When we look at Christ's ministry in the New Testament, He absolutely sought out broken people. He wasn't worried about appearances...it didn't phase Him to be seen at dinner with a tax collector or forgiving an adulterous woman. He knew the need that those broken people had. And He knew that He had the cure for their sickness. And so He went to them. It's a beautiful reminder of Christ's mercy and compassion and something that we should celebrate and keep in our minds.

I definitely believe that were Christ walking around today, He WOULD visit those places. Christ would minister to the homosexual community. He would put His arm around a woman who just had an abortion. He would sit on Fred Phelp's door stoop and lovingly confront him about his hate. He would forgive the whores, call thieves and murderers to repent and remind all the desperate and needy about the hope that exists with Him.

And those who use this example as a reminder for where the Church should be ministering have a good point. Because the Church--the individual members of Christ's body--are the physical representation of Jesus to this world. And we should be willing to go where He would go and minister to those whom He would have us minister to--although, we must also remind ourselves that He was sinless and we are not...and move forward with humility and discretion.

But would Christ go at the expense of the Church?

I seriously doubt it.

Because Christ isn't physically walking the Earth these days, it's tough to address how this would look. After all, Christ is the head of the universal Church. Every believer on the planet is under His authority...so the question brings up all the little rabbit trail questions about would Jesus be a Baptist or Lutheran? Would He worship at an American church or one elsewhere? And what would it mean if He picked one church to settle at?

I'm not going to go off on a tangent with those because they're silly questions that are just distractions (although he would totally be Baptist ;-) ). The point I want to make is that I don't believe Jesus would come to Earth today, 2,000 years after His death and rip asunder the Church. He died for the Church. He loves the Church. He loves when people gather together in His name and worship Him. The Bible speaks volumes about the importance of the Church and--most importantly--Christ's headship and authority over it. Paul's letters were addressed to local congregations, the book of Revelation has Christ personally addressing seven churches and over and over we see commands to not forsake assembling, instructions for gathering for worship and communion and an organizational structure for the Church with offices for pastors, elders, deacons and teachers.

I say this because some people want to say "well, of course Christ loves the Church--His whole body of believers. But that means all the believers in the world; local congregations, organized religion and the idea of meeting together and having a structured organization with budgets, salaries and buildings runs contrary to the Bible." And that's just not what I see in Scripture. In Scripture I see commands for orderly meeting, reminders to meet regularly and offices for preaching and teaching the Word. Organized religion and meetings are practical. As for budgets and salaries and buildings? That's all practical.

And let's remember why Christ would be meeting with the gays, the whores, the adulterers and the thieves. It wouldn't be just to be build friendships. It would be to bring them into relationship with Him...that is to say, to bring them into the Church. Get them out of the bars and into a congregation. Off the street and into fellowship with Brothers and Sisters in Christ. Believers should absolutely go out into the world...and bring back those who will follow.

Much of what the anti-Church crowd suggests is not a bad thing on the surface. But it's empty when you dig deeper. Yes, they suggest going to gay bars to "minister." But many of those same authors hesitate to call homosexuality a sin...so their "ministering" is not a sharing of the Gospel at all but of building friendships and saying "see, Christians can be cool too. And we're not going to judge you or make you uncomfortable by using the 'sin' word."

And they would probably be shocked to see that Jesus would go into the bar, treat people with love and compassion...but also call them to repentance and tell them to leave their lifestyles. The anti-church group is all about the loving, merciful side of Jesus...but they absolutely forget that His love is a love one that exists in truth and His mercy exists because His holiness has made fellowship with Him impossible apart from Him. And if we know that the Bible preaches that all are sinners and sinners are damned to hell and the only hope they have is faith in Christ, which includes repentance...but we're not saying anything to them about that...are we really being that loving? (I want to unpack this issue further in a few days).

But what about the statement that Christ wouldn't want to be around the Church because of his distaste towards religious leaders?

Yes, Christ's harshest words were to the religious leaders of His day. And yes, when you're dealing with a collection of saved-sinners, there are always going to be pastors who are selfish and sinful---the Bible is full of harsh words toward them and I don't think Christ would bite His tongue at them today.

But let's remember that it wasn't simply "oh, these leaders are so irritating." It was that they were perverting what God had created, heaping heavy burdens on their followers and living lives of hypocrisy---keeping the outward law while, inward, they were evil and prideful.

Yes, if a pastor is living a life like that today, harsh words are in store...and the elders and congregation should not hesitate to bring them up. But I believe there are many pastors out there these days who preach the Gospel and cherish its truth, understanding that there is an offensive nature to it that can divide families and nations--and yet they preach passionately and lovingly shepherd their congregations. I think Christ would be seen with these people and would take time to fellowship with them regularly...because they are being the Church. They are worshipping Him and loving the Father by preaching what was accomplished on the cross. They are glorifying God...and nothing brings more joy to Christ than the glory of the Father.

Ironically, I think those in the anti-Church crowd would find harsh words in store for their false compassion...the way they want the church to only embrace social justice and play down the things of eternal consequence. The way they chide the church for not accepting sinners while not understanding that churches are flawed BECAUSE they already have sinners amongst them. I think Christ's words would be very harsh toward the Brian MacClarens and Rob Bells of the world, who are peddling what is at best a watered down Gospel and, at worst, heresy.

It fills me with great pleasure to think that Christ is merciful enough to fellowship with sinners. And they can be found everywhere---in the gay bars, on the street corners and in my own church. But it fills me with greater joy to realize that there is a set-apart body of believers who Christ loves intensely and passionately. They are the Church and I'm humbled and amazed to be a part of it.

--CW

Fatty Falls Down

Everybody likes it when Fatty falls down--Chris Farley

Just this weekend, I finished reading the book "The Chris Farley Show." Written by the late comedian's brother Tom Farley, the book is a touching, funny and deeply tragic look at a man who was beloved by many and died way too young. This isn't intended to be a review, but I'll just say this: it's one of the most affecting reads I've had all year.

Pretty much everyone who knew and worked with Farley his entire life--including many of his SNL cast mates--comments in it. It's not a rose-tinted book at all but a brutally honest remembrance of a man who loved to make people laugh, had a deep religious and charitable nature and yet could not control the demons within him. It's one of the most heartbreaking looks at addiction I've come across, especially because it leaves you with no answers. For one, there's no happy ending. And secondly, there's no one who can ask "why didn't anyone do anything" because people tried everything to get Farley off drugs. Whether he had a death wish, wanting to be like his idol John Belushi, is up for debate--and both sides are presented in the book. But what's not up for debate is that Farley was stubborn and had one of the most addictive personalities in the world.

I always loved watching Chris Farley work. He may have lacked the wit of David Spade or the impressionistic chops of Will Ferrell and Phil Hartman, but he was such a charismatic force of nature that it was impossible not to smile at his work. He could get laughs just by hitching up his pants as Matt Foley, rubbing Adam Sandler's leg in the wonderful Zagat's sketch ("ravioli? Holy canoli!") or asking Paul McCartney "remember when you were with the Beatles?" Physically, he was a bull in the comedic china shop and yet he moved with a surprising grace--you can debate whether the famous Chippendales sketch with Patrick Swayze was mean-spirited or not but watch him throw himself into that and try not to laughs. His movie's were hit and miss: I think "Black Sheep" has its moments and that "Beverly Hills Ninja" is one of the worst things ever. But I truly think "Tommy Boy" is something special. Yes, it's a stupid movie. But there's a real heart beating in there that I think a lot of people over look and, had he lived, I think there's a chance Chris could have broken out of his "fat guy" humor and become someone like John Candy, who was funny not because he was fat but because of the characters he created. Farley was hoping to do a Fatty Arbuckle biopic at the time of his death that was widely-believed to be a film that could have shown another side of him.

But alas, we'll never know because Farley loved to live too hard. It's heartbreaking to read the book and recall how his first drink in high school was immediately followed by a binge. It's hard to read about how hard he worked to stay sober through his time on SNL and when on a film set...and then how one relapse and the fear of failure caused him to throw away all that hard work. And it's so sad to hear people remember how there were two Chris's: one the guy who genuinely loved people and always sought out the person who was ignored and disenfranchised...and the drug addict who could be filled with rage, self-loathing and fear.

Coincidentally, earlier this year I also read David Scheff's powerful memoir "Beautiful Boy," about how Scheff coped with his son's addiction to meth. What is so heartbreaking about both books is that they are not written from a distance or told with a clinical dispassion. These tales are told by friends and family members of those who have suffered with addiction. In nearly every page you can hear the heartbreak of watching drugs take over their loved one's personality and the hatred of what addiction does to a person.

I consider myself very blessed to have a life that has been free of much exposure to substance abuse. I've never smoked a cigarette and, in terms of drinking, I rarely have anything alcoholic--and if I do, it's usually one drink. Thankfully I've also been fortunate enough not to have many friends who have succumbed to drug addiction (I'm including alcohol in here because it is a drug whose effects are just as serious as anything else). But I've seen friends who have dealt with addicts and I've watched just how that tears them apart.

I have traditionally had a very low empathy for addicts. Addiction is such a selfish thing and I have a hard time feeling bad for someone who willingly starts trying something they know has the potential to kill them. Watching someone in the throes of addiction is a window into life at its most pathetic and wasted, even when they think the substance is making them happy. But more than anything, I think it's just a rotten and selfish situation that rips apart families. It's definitely not a victimless crime--talk to anyone who has had a family member or friend struggle with addiction and you will hear stories of heartbreak, anger and resentment that leaves no one unscathed.

But I'm beginning to realize that much of my discomfort and anger at addicts comes from a hypocrisy and shame in myself. Because while I have not dealt with substance abuse, I am an addict in my own right.

Addiction is genetic and we're all affected by it. I'm addicted to sin and I struggle with that each and every day. As I read about how someone relapses just because they think they can handle "just one drink" or "it just happened," a part of me cringes because it sounds so familiar. I am addicted to self. My drugs are fear, pride, lying, selfishness, anger and cynicism. And I give into them so easily. Even when I think I've made progress and I'm celebrating my own sobriety, I'm just two seconds away from a relapse as I lash out again or run to self.

What always intrigues me about stories of addiction is that addicts are never able to help themselves. They think they can go cold turkey or survive under their own willpower, but sooner or later they hit a breaking point. They need rehab, medication, sponsorship. The best way to say it--they need intervention. Outside help that will support them, show them just how big of a screw up they are and then encourage them that help is possible.

Sin addicts--which we all are--are hopeless causes on their own. Our addiction, which manifests itself in myriad ways, leads not only to physical death but to eternal suffering. On our own we're not going to overcome this addiction--at best we're just going to put on a mask of false sobriety. Without the intervention of the cross, we have no hope. But with the cross, with that justification, we are given a hope that doesn't fail.

Every recovering alcoholic or addict will never tell you that they've recovered. They still are addicts. Because even though they may not be using, they're still compelled and weak. The condition of a Believer is similiar, except that once we are justified we no longer fear an eternal death. But we still are prone to sin, prone to wander and prone to relapse. Sanctification is a hard, often painful and lifelong process. There's no "zap" moment. No sudden infusion where you're a better Christian and suddenly unshakable. No "levels" of Christianity. You don't die to self in your sleep. It's a battle, becoming more like Christ, and it requires the constant strength of God, the support of fellow believers and the recognition that we can't do anything on our own. Maybe instead of thinking of church services like concerts, lectures or business meetings we'd be good to think of the Church more like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, where we're brutally honest about our sin, our inability to overcome on our own and the constant struggle and support we need each and every day.

--C

American Idiots

Jackass: (n) 1. A donkey, esp. a male. 2. A fool

President Obama may have inadvertently actually said something that everyone--Republican and Democrat--can actually agree on last week when he stated that Kanye West was a jackass.

He was, of course, referring to West's behavior at last Sunday's MTV Video Music Awards, when he leaped onto the stage, took the microphone from 19-year-old winner Taylor Swift and pronounced that Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video deserved the honor.

The truth is, even without that moment, Kanye West could still be accurately labeled a jackass, based on his "George Bush doesn't care about black people" moment during a Hurricane Katrina fundraiser or his similar antics at other award shows. He's the perfect example of celebrity run amok, a man who's been praised so often that he begins not only to believe his own hype but also promote it as Gospel. His pride spills over so far that it's not just that he's full of himself but he also wants everyone to be part of the Kanye cult, believing that he's the greatest rapper/singer/self-promoter in the world and that all of his beliefs and preferences are the right ones and not to be trifled with.

And he earns the right to be called a jackass--an annoying animal whose braying hurts the ears of all nearby.

Of course, just a week or so earlier, Congressman Joe Wilson participated in his own brand of jackassery by shouting "You Lie!" during President Obama's statements on health care. I have to believe that Wilson, full of Republican fire and passion, believed this would be a profoundly American moment of dissent. Instead, he revealed himself to be a Kanye-style fool with his show of disrespect and immaturity.

In just two weeks time, both Kanye West and Joe Wilson have solidified the stereotype of the Ugly American. . .a brash, loud and boorish creature who has no intention of listening to others' viewpoints, but simply shouts out their own and yells even louder to keep the opposing view down.

It's not the views of West and Wilson that I necessarily disagree with. Not being that into the whole MTV scene, I have no idea if I'd think Beyonce's video was better than Taylor Swift's--I haven't seen either of the videos in question. Likewise, I don't think that President Obama's health care plan is near flawless or even what we need...all I can admit is that we have a system right now that does not work and we need some sort of change; in reality, I would like to see a lot of compromise between both Republicans and Democrats before I think we'd have something workable. Both West and Wilson are free to have their views and, in a responsible and adult fashion, express them.

It's that last part that no one seems to get right.

It's pretty obvious to everyone that West's behavior was appalling. Everyone knows you don't jump up to the stage, steal the microphone from the winner and say someone else should have won. It's disrespectful for the winner...disrespectful for a gracious loser...and serves only to place yourself in a spotlight that you don't deserve. Of course West, ever the hype man, spun his apology and showed up on talk shows so quickly that one wonders if this was the work of someone who had too much to drink (as is alleged) or if it was a very intricately-planned publicity ploy. Neither would surprise me and it makes me glad that I don't listen much to Kanye's music.

Wilson has his defenders. They say he was just fed up. He was standing up against someone who he believed was telling lies. Of course, were the tables turned and it was a Democratic congressman shouting at a Republican President, you'd find everyone switching sides...the same people who are appalled now would be supporting the dissent and those who stand behind Joe Wilson would be crying for the dissenter's resignation. But the extreme partisanship that is destroying this country is the subject of another blog.

Me, I'm not so much interested in politics or even the state of affairs of our government. My concern over Wilson's behavior is more from a culture standpoint and a fear of where we are as humans. How many of you would attend a lecture, a business meeting or a college class and shout out "you lie" to the presenter/boss/professor if you disagreed with them? Chances are you would simply either let it slide, pull the person aside afterward or write a letter, depending on how passionately you felt about the subject. Creating an outburst draws attention to yourself. Losing your cool loses the argument because you can only be proven right (if you can be) through discussion and dialogue, not childish screaming and yelling. And honestly, throwing a fit makes you look like a fool. Have you ever observed the customer temper tantrum in a department store, bank or restaurant? Have you ever thought that person, with their red face and stream of cuss words, was actually in the right?

I don't think Kanye West and Joe Wilson are the problem. They are merely symptomatic of a larger problem within our culture that even Presidents fall prey too--after all, I'm sure you can remember George W. Bush calling a journalist an "a--hole" during his Presidential campaign. And Obama has had his slips of the tongue, particularly with the campus police in the whole "beer diplomacy" joke.

Everyone has always had opinions. The problem with our culture these days is that everyone believes their opinion is right, with no chance of being wrong, and that the best thing they can do is shout that opinion at the top of their lungs and shoot down anyone who disagrees with them.

And yes, I know some will say this: we have the right to dissent and have free speech and demonstration. That's true; I don't disagree with that and, in fact, there are places and times where dissent--when done with respect, intelligence and gentleness--is a much-needed thing. But too few people remember this: there's a big difference between having a right and doing the right thing.

The Internet has created a culture where everyones opinions can be heard. Unfortunately, Americans are often much more interested in telling their own opinion than listening to those of others. Facebook statuses and Tweets become bully pulpits where we spout our rhetoric and views; is there anything more pathetic and pointless than the use of Twitter for debate? Bloggers bemoan the lack of objective reporting but quote only sources that feed their own biases...I refuse to listen to anyone who tells me that CNN and ABC are part of the liberal media when their only exposure to news comes from Fox News and Rush Limbaugh; news should offend both sides of the aisle. But instead we have a culture where people firmly believe their ideology and rhetoric are the only right and good ones and so everything they say and listen to will be part of spreading that belief around as if politics could ever hold the same Truth and infallibility as the Gospel.

But as we're also spreading our views, we've been taught very well not to let the opposing side come into play at all. Bill Maher and Rush Limbaugh (both on opposing sides but both the perfect examples of the ugliest of the Ugly Americans) have taught us to look down at, laugh at or simply outshout and out talk opposing viewpoints. A look at the letters to the editor portion of newspapers shows how quickly intelligence, rationality and respect are thrown out the window in favor of tearing down other views, spouting your own rhetoric and doing so in a manner that dehumanizes and belittles other people.

We've lost, in this culture, the art of the debate and discussion. We've forgotten the importance of sitting down and having friendly, civil discussion. You can be passionate about an issue and still talk in a calm tone. You can disagree with someone and still let them have their say; you don't have to yell. And guess what, you can still have your opinions and admit that you may very well be wrong. No growth comes out of being right all the time; improvement comes from seeing where we're wrong and making the right compromises and changes to better each time.

And Christians, most importantly, must be above the fray.

I know many Christians have strong political views. And I know it's tempting to yell and shout and look just like this ugly, vitriolic culture. But we're called to something better. We're commanded to speak the truth in love, with gentleness and humility. We're called to consider others better than ourselves. We're commanded to love our enemies, pray for those who persecute us, serve those who hate us and realize that every human being has worth and value. Surely part of that means putting our aside our tendency to bicker, yell and nitpick because we realize that politics, government and even this nation is temporary. In light of Eternity, will any of us even remember that there was once a place called America, let alone disagreements over health care and taxes?

That's not to say we can't be political. That's not to say we can't be passionate. But passion that gives way to hatred, pride and disrespect is misplaced, sinful passion. True, Godly involvement in politics means we're willing to sit across from those we disagree with and share our views without interrupting, without raising our voices, without believing we have all the answers or that everything out of their mouth will be wrong. True, God-honoring debate must be gentle, loving,

humble and ultimately done with a dash of frivolity, knowing that more important matters of the soul are at stake.

Let's pray that the American church be as wise as serpents, as humble as doves....and nothing like a jackass.

VIPs

I've been star struck exactly twice in my life.

One of the great things about being a journalist (even a freelance one) who works the film beat is that, on occasion, you get the opportunity to meet and interview some of the big people in the industry. Being situated in Detroit and doing my writing for a local weekly paper, I never did get a coveted interview with Steven Spielberg or Tom Hanks, but I did get to meet those who often were a bit newer to the scene or had some little gem that was just getting discovered.

That was the case two years ago, shortly after "Juno" came out of nowhere to be the darling at the Toronto Film Festival. The buzz for it, which had been nearly nonexistent before the festival, was suddenly deafening. I had enjoyed director Jason Reitman's previous film, "Thank You for Smoking" and I liked the work of the cast he assembled, but I was seriously skeptical about the ability of what appeared to be a teen comedy making any sort of impact on me.

I had the privilege of seeing "Juno" about two months before it opened in Detroit and I was immediately in love with everything about the movie--Reitman's deft direction, the fantastic cast, the witty dialogue by Diablo Cody and even the quirky indie soundtrack. I think I ended up seeing the film four times before it left theaters and I named it the best movie of 2007. So when the chance came to interview Reitman and Cody, right around the time the film was announced as a Golden Globe contender, was something that really tickled my inner geek.

I was terrified of meeting them, though. I did my research...I read the script for "Juno" and went back and rewatched "Smoking" (btw--I'm very glad to hear that Reitman's third film, "Up in the Air" is also winning over crowds in Toronto this very weekend). I even read "Candy Girl," Cody's memoir about the year she spent as a stripper (and yes, it was an awkward conversation when my father found the book).

The interview went well. They were two very nice, down-to-Earth people who couldn't believe their good fortune. But there was a point in the middle of the conversation where the thought just bumped into my mind: "This woman is going to win an Oscar for her work with this movie. And this guy is the son of the man who directed 'Ghostbusters.' What the heck am I doing with these people?" I think I may have even stammered out to them that that was my first "celebrity" interview.

Less than a year later, I found myself back in that hotel room with a group of journalists getting ready to talk to Rainn Wilson about "The Rocker" (coincidentally, Wilson had a bit part in "Juno"). I had seen the movie, which was quite terrible. But it didn't matter. I'm a major "Office" fan and Wilson's work on that has always made me laugh (it's one of the few areas where the U.S. version actually improved upon the BBC's character...although I will never sell Gareth short). He walked in the room, dressed in a 'Star Trek' t-shirt and couldn't have been cooler or nicer to everyone. But still, there was a moment of geekery where it suddenly hit me: "I just fist-bumped Dwight Schrute and had him answer a question for me. Dwight Schrute just posed for a picture for me."

Those are two rare instances of me being star-struck. The truth is that I've been around famous and semi-famous folk on and off. I've interviewed actors and directors (I would have been starstruck by Danny Boyle if he hadn't been so darn nice) and found that, for the most part, they have come across as very nice, down-to-Earth and charming and the intimidation disappears pretty quickly. And there have been cases where I've been unimpressed by people--this year I was in close proximity to Arnold Schwarzenegger and found myself a bit bored by him. When I was in high school, working concession at a movie theater, Aretha Franklin came in one night and was one of the rudest people I dealt with (R-E-S-P-E-C-T? Aretha didn't give none to me.)

But in those two cases above, I was starstruck. These were people who had done work that had some sort of an impact on me and left me in a sort of awe over their talent. Don't think I wasn't name-dropping them all over afterward.

I can look back now and be a bit amused or embarrassed at my reaction. After all, these are just regular people. They are just doing a job where their work appears in a very public venue. To accord them a professional respect or critical admiration is one thing, but is anyone really important enough to make our palms go sweaty or to make us feel that we've become more important just by being in close proximity to them?

In the job I have now, I deal with a lot of officials in the military. And it's funny how the rank system affects people. I understand the need for it and, in the Army, there's a necessity to it. But I have also learned that if you tell someone enough times that they're important, they'll start to believe it. It's amazing how pride and hubris can manifest itself in jobs that, honestly, aren't much different than what most people throughout Detroit are doing in some fashion. The vast majority of the people I work with are kind, easy-going and down-to-Earth. But every once in awhile you see someone very high up who requires an intermediary to talk to anyone below them and I've seen a few people who won't even acknowledge the "little people" when they're walking down the hallway. I'm not talking about professional respect that says "we should deal pleasantly with people who are our seniors." I'm talking about the attitude that says "I"m an important person and deserve to be treated like that." Respect is always bestowed, it should never be expected.

But it's not limited to that environment. In my time at the paper, I also dealt with politicians. And if anyone wants a quick dose of pomposity, they should simply be elected to public office. The off the record conversations I had in the office of one township official made me very uncomfortable, as he'd talk down about his constituents, his coworkers and the people he worked around every day. The attitude was thus: "I'm the leader. I have the power. I just put up with these people."

Even more baffling, for me, are the people who want to be around the very important people. As much as I loved dealing with the Hollywood people, I never wanted to be part of their entourage or group. I never wanted to be the person telling them "you're so important" or telling other people "this is someone you need to pay attention to." I also never wanted schmooze at any of the political events I occasionally had to attend at the paper; I never wanted to be "that guy," who shakes hands with politicians, laughs at their jokes, speaks their language and fits in with them. I remember once covering a community event and getting roped into a conversation with a gentleman who was campaigning for governor. He kept wanting me to follow him and take pictures of him interacting with people. My stomach lurched at the thought of it; I snapped one or two pics before telling him that while it was great meeting him, my obligation was to take photos of the community. Even now, I enjoy meeting the people who I write about and I give them professional courtesy and respect...but when I see how others fawn all over people who are in high positions or seek to be noticed and liked by them (kissing butt, is what I call it), it makes me sigh. Maybe it's that journalistic outsider part of me or maybe it's just that, really, I don't see what a higher education, rank or political title really does to make someone more important than the guy who sweeps the floors or takes out the trash. Professional courtesy is one thing...friendship or recognition by someone just to say "I know so-and-so" or to use that to help my career just seems shallow, crass and phony.

Where do we get this idea that people are to be put on a pedestal or--in a sense--worshipped because they appear on a public stage, have a nice source of money or are in a position of power? Do we really believe that those things make them a better person than anyone else? And what of our desire to be seen with the prestigious and powerful? Do we think it gives us an inherent worth? Are other people now obligated to respect us because we're on a first name basis with someone who gets their name in the newspaper?

Have we forgotten about the Bible verses that cry out "what is man that You are mindful of Him?" Have we forgotten the reminder that life is simply a vapor, easily snuffed out and a life is like the grass that is cut up and thrown away? Yes, God created us to be in His image and made us the high point of Creation. But that position, that great height, also meant we had a big fall. And we didn't just mess up; we rebelled against our Creator. We went to war against Him and the majority of mankind is still at enmity with God, determined to tell Him that they will decide what they worship as Lord. After all, what is our hero worship but idolatry, giving others the honor, attention and time that belongs only to God?

Have we forgotten our place? Have we forgotten the words of Rich Mullins, who reminded us that we "are not as strong as we think we are"? God spoke existence INTO existence! With one word, there was light. With one sweep of His hands, the universe came into being. With one breath, life began. And what have we done? Sure we've built great things. We've discovered vaccines. We put men on the moon. But we also are idolaters, liars, whores and murderers. From the moment of conception, we've been sinners and it's taken an act of amazing grace to restore us.

And look at how that was done. The God of the Universe...the most important being in existence, the ONLY true V.I.P....humbled Himself. Left everything He had in heaven to clothe himself in an unattractive human body that was prone to sickness, hurt, hunger, fatigue and temptation just like everyone else. He did not come to the spiritual elite, the religious VIPs...in fact, His words towards them were of the harshest condemnation. He surrounded himself with men who were largely poor and uneducated. He lived as a homeless man. He willingly was arrested and tried as a criminal and endured beating, scourging and the most painful, humiliating type of death ever devised. And even then, He willingly took on the pain and shame of having the Father--the One He submitted to, respected and loved more than anything--turn away from Him and pour out His wrath. And why? So that miserable worms like us wouldn't have to take the punishment that was rightfully ours.

How important are you feeling now? And how much more should we love and respect those who are ignored by society in favor of worshipping the pretenders to the throne?

--C

Laboring Days

The issue of work is something that confuses many Christians.

Until a few years ago, I often held to the mistaken idea--believed, sadly, by many--that work was a result of living in a sin-cursed world. After all, didn't God promise Adam and Eve that when they were banished from the Garden that they would have to start working? Isn't the daily grind we all partake in day in and day out simply the consequence of being sinners?

Not exactly.

When Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, they were told not that they would have to start working, but rather that their work would now become toilsome and futile. The idea of work was actually designed before the Fall, when God made Adam a steward of all Creation and commanded him to subdue it. The work at that point was a joyful employment, free of drudgery and frustration--it was part of who Adam was and what he was created to do. As beings created in God's image, we are creative entities, made for good work, gifted and equipped to fulfill certain tasks that God has ordained for us to do.

Without sin, it would have been a joyful and glorious activity that we would do in service to God with joy and confidence. The consequences of sin, however, has made work hard, stressful, frustrating and even unbearable for some.

It's this odd dichotomy--stress mixed with pleasure--and the idea of righteous workmanship that has been on my mind for the past few months as I've struggled with adapting to a new job.

For four years, I worked as a reporter for a weekly newspaper. It was the most fun I ever had--the staff I worked with was incredible and every day I felt like I was going to camp, not to the office. I had a freedom to cover what I wanted and to experiment with my writing if I so desired--during that time I had the opportunity to stretch my creative muscles with long feature stories, columns and reviews.

More than that, there was a sense of pride and importance in what I did. Part of it was due to ego--there is a swell of pride in knowing that you can get the Mayor out of a meeting with a phone call or that you've worked with the cops long enough to get out of speeding tickets. But more than that, there was a feeling of identity--I was a known name in the community. I was the one people called with questions and concerns. If citizens were upset about something in the area, they could give me a call and I'd look into it. I had the cell numbers of township trustees and also was trusted enough to meet with concerned residents to discuss important and controversial events.

I'm a big supporter of community news. It links people with their elected officials. It tells what's going on in the readers' own backyard. Parents clip out the stories and place them in scrapbooks if their children are mentioned. And I was a part of that very important process, a voice in the community. It was the rare job that created an identity in me--I was proud to tell people I was a reporter for the Source and, if I met anyone from my zone, I always made sure they knew how important my job was to me.

I left that job in February to take a more financially-sound opportunity. Some would say I sold out and that might be partially right. I left behind journalism to do something more closely related with marketing and public relations. But, at heart, I've always been a writer and I took a job that still allows me to do what I love most.

I work for a contractor that deals with the military. I write articles for an online newsletter and a quarterly magazine. The articles are not as sexy as the ones I had at the paper--mostly technical articles that I can't even bring myself to read once they're published (although I also remind myself that budget and millage stories are not exactly sexy). I do work around military types who have a certain importance within their arena--but the truth is that, while I afford them a professional respect, it's hard to get excited about a rank or title when you've been able to call the mayor on their cell phone while they're on vacation or sat face-to-face with an Oscar-winning director. And while I'm writing stories about important work going on that actually saves lives, the truth is that it's not news that anyone NEEDS to know...it's not work that's going to impact their kids at school, keep their community safe or change the way business in their town is done.

These aren't complaints. Simply observations. Every job has frustrations--when I worked at the newspaper, the truth was that I also had them. I sometimes wondered who in the world cared about a senior citizen artist of the month. I groaned at every ideologue who took a potshot at my columns. And I had to face the facts that as much as I loved what I did, the wage I was being paid did not offer any substantial financial support.

So, it's just another example of that toil that we have as a result of living post-Fall. The truth is that the job I have now is a very good one; sometimes it's stressful and frustrating, but it's still a good one. And any time I miss the creative punch of journalistic writing, I can craft something for my writer's group or take on a freelance project (I still do reviews for the paper).

I just have to face the fact that this job is just that: a job. It's not my identity. It's not where my fulfillment lies. It's a job that I do and try to do well for 40 hours a week. But after that, I go home to the things that matter most.

And so, facing that shift, I've begun to wonder what my employment as a Christian is to be during my employment 40 hours a week. And I've come up with two answers.

The first is that--whether this job galvanizes me the way that my position as a reporter did or not--my job is to do my work to the best of my ability, with a focus on excellence and quality. Not because it's important work or because my employer asks me too--although those are all good reasons. Rather, I have been commanded to glorify God in all that I do. To do my work without grumbling and complaining and to do so with an attitude that my work is for God and not for man.

I try to remind myself each morning what that means. It means that I don't have a choice whether to be joyful at work or not--rather, it is my duty as a follower of Christ to realize what a gift He has provided with employment (particularly right now in the state of Michigan). It is to realize that He has given me talents and skills that are unique to me and placed me in a position to meet the needs faced by a company where I can be a servant. I'm commanded to work humbly, to submit to my employers joyfully and to work with an attitude that is no different than if God Himself was giving me my tasks.

If I do that, then I can work with a confidence that no matter what complaints I might here or what frustrations might occur, I know there will be a peace I have about my work. Will I be perfect? No. Will I always have a good day? No. But if I set my mind every morning that God has given me this day with 8 hours of work to be accomplished and I actually set about doing so with a joyful attitude, servant's heart and a workman's ethic, I can rest confidently at the end of the day that I have done the right thing. It frees me from the expectations of others--and, truthfully, my own high expectations for myself--by allowing me to realize what God has placed in my path.

The second part actually comes in relation to my realization that the job is not my place of ultimate fulfillment or identity. I think that realization may be another great cause for celebration and freedom.

I know it's cliche to say this, but I don't live to work...I work to live. My life and identity may include what I do 40 hours a week in an office, but it is not solely encapsulated in that. I know people who check their e-mails late into the evening, talk about work after getting out of the office and make it the center of their life. It makes me very sad to think that a person's life and identity could be wrapped up solely in a job that they do for only a few years and that, in the decades to come, will be forgotten. I worry that I would have become that person had I stayed in journalism...the person who's life is defined by their work, upward climb and desire for recognition.

It's freeing to have a job that doesn't have the burden of fulfilling me. I can work harder, knowing that there's a life waiting for me after my shift. I can appreciate my employment more, knowing that I don't live to work but that I can make my job work for me...that the work I do is what earn the money to pay my rent, buy groceries and enjoy life on the evenings and weekends.

More than that, it's that realization that my job doesn't complete me that allows me to glorify God with the rest of my life. It reminds me not to overwork but to take time in the evening to sit with the Word and pray. It reminds me to set a precedence of working hard but also getting into the habit of not staying too late or working too much so I can have the habit set of coming home in the evenings, which I will be adamant about doing when I have children. I realize that the job has given me is a good thing...but it's not THE good thing. Employment is part of the wonderful way in which we can glorify God...but our employment also is a tool. It's the means by which God allows us to earn money to support the things that do give us fulfillment and joy...supporting our families, earning money to give to the church and to missions or simply coming home from a long day to enjoy a quiet evening of rest.

I think on this Labor Day, it's an important reminder to have.

--C

Life outside myself, Part One

I'm quickly learning that I am not the center of the universe. Not even my own.

Earlier this summer I inherited a dog. My brother's shitzhu, Zeke, had not taken a liking to my new niece. The decision had to be made whether to get rid of the baby or the dog...I'm guessing the choice was pretty clear. Having wanted to get a dog since I moved into my apartment, I offered to take in Zeke, who's about 15 pounds, blind in one eye, and a bit skittish around anyone who is not his master.

Zeke's a good dog. When I go to sleep he curls up on my bed...although he likes to appear standoffish, the truth is that I've caught him venturing up toward my pillow at night. He's a low-key dog but he has his rambunctious side when he wants to play. And although he's not a dog who likes to lick people, he does run around the house and jump up on me when I get home from work...and there are few greater feelings than coming home from a hard day to find your dog happy to see you.

I'm sure every kid has bugged their parents for a pet. And, of course, their parents often acquiesce with the caveat: "but you have to look after them." It's shortly after that that kids become a bit disillusioned with the new family addition. The dog's great when he's playing fetch or licking your face...not so much fun when you have to pick up his poop or clean up when he sheds.

It's funny how I forgot about the responsibility part.

Now, let me be clear here: Zeke is by no means high-maintenance. He goes out in the morning. He goes out when I get home from work. I feed him in the evening and keep his water filled. And then we go out before I go to bed. He's a house dog, with very simple needs; he's not a behemoth that needs to go on a 2-mile walk or an energetic pest that's going to tear up the living room while I'm gone.

But I'm a 30-year-old single man who was very used to his life as a 30-year-old single man. I had my routine. I'd get up with just enough time to get in the shower and head out to work. After work, I might come home or I might stay out for the evening; if I did come home I would likely flop on the couch and take a nap as soon as I hit the door. I didn't really have a set time for winding down...if I was tired, I went to bed. I have my schedule. My routine. My life.

Funny how a 15-pound furball can disrupt that.

Now I no longer sleep in until the last minute...because I have to give myself 15-20 minutes for Zeke to do his business outside. He's a fickle dog when it comes to that--he doesn't always like to go on wet grass and sometimes, no matter how bad he's pacing, he'll walk around our building for a good 20 minutes before finally deciding to do that thing he does.

I have to be careful when I stay out after work. If I'm out too late, Zeke might not wait for me to take him out in the evening...he might just go. Even if he behaves (and he's been getting a lot better) there's still the fact that he needs fed. And at night I have to be prepared that my "well-earned" sleep could be disrupted by Zeke's biological needs.

Not only that, but there's the quiet routine that can be interrupted by surprises. Coming home after a rough day, wanting only to sit on the couch...and finding out that Zeke left me "presents" on the floor. Constantly cleaning up after him if he's sick. Finding a dog sitter if I have to head out of town. It all serves to remind me that I am no longer the sole individual in my little universe...there's a non-human entity who needs my care.

I can see why some couples have a pet before deciding to have a child. I don't for a second think that having a dog is anywhere near the responsibility of having a kid, but it's definitely a good tool to get you in the right mindset. With both, your day is no longer strictly your own. You have to work into your routine time to care for this other creature and be prepared to unexpectedly diverge from that routine when they don't play by your rules. With a dog it's simply that your job is to keep them from dying and pooping on your carpet...with a kid you get the added fun of character shaping.

And I wouldn't change it for anything. Zeke's my little buddy. He's a good dog. And I need the reminder that my life is not simply about my own little sense of self-fulfillment. And truth be told I definitely need the reminder that I'm not here to simply do what makes me happy without worrying about anyone else. This little dog reminds me that life is not about me (of course, if we could read Zeke's mind I'm sure it would be all about him).

--C

Part 2 of this will come later this week.