Picture Year in Review: October

Mr. Jake Lorenson at Fall Fest. 

A Year in Review

Last September I made one of the greatest purchases of my life (second to my MacBook), I got a digital SLR camera and proceeded to take what artistic and creative genes i possess (thanks, mom!) and use them for a different art medium. I decided, in honor of these past twelve months, to devote my next twelve posts to one picture a month that really captures what that month meant to me. Nothing super profound, just a fun exercise for me...and a painful one...its hard to pick JUST ONE from each month...

September 2010
Ignite Jr. High, the place to be on Sunday nights. teaching and leading Ignite was one of the highlights of my life, God did a great work in my heart as we laughed, played, sang and learned about Him.

Angry Pastors

I love Angry Birds. I just adore those hilarious, squawking, destructive, pig-hating, self-mutilating, masochistic, egg-laying, exploding balls of fun. I even love the cheesy musical background (OK, not really). So far i have played and beaten 635 levels. and yes, there are still more.  I have spent so much time throwing these valiant birds at those devilish pigs, calculating trajectory, designing elaborate ways to drop my bird in exactly the correct spot in exactly the right sequence, shouting in triumphant delight or furious agony (there is always that one tiny pig that you cant kill no matter what, he just sits there and grins....and then it becomes personal). Maybe its because I've invested so much time, energy, and yes, emotion, or maybe its just because I'm a Pastor, but I have felt the need to develop a theology of these Angry Birds. You may laugh (frankly, I don't blame you). Hurling awkward spheroid bird caricatures at similarly awkward swine does not seem, at first blush, to lend itself much to any kind of redemptive value. In truth, I tend to shy away from over-spiritualizing the things we take part in every day (sometimes a game can just be a game, right?), I wouldnt want to ruin mindless, bird-launching fun with corny Christian illusions and metaphors. I would hate to read too much into a cartoon bird on a singular mission throwing itself with utter abandon at the walls of opposition time and time again without any regard to its own safety or well-being. To trivialize the idea that all various kinds of birds are needed to overcome the obstacles and defeat the enemy; or to overemphasize how they sacrifice themselves with devastating consequences for the sake of another. Or to overstate how the plans of the enemy become more and more elaborate and difficult to overcome, yet even after 635 levels they sit in the slingshot ready to be used again, "trusting" in the hand of another to guide them. That reckless abandon is, to me, what makes this game terrifyingly addictive. (That, and the sheer malevolent complexity of the levels.  Rovio employs some seriously nefarious people)
Truthfully, the redemptive value of this game is probably simply just in its absorbing ability to help me kill time while growing my sanctification as I learn to not scream profanities at little grinning green balls of asinine swine. Maybe.  

Green Eggs and Ham

i know that as a man i am obligated by gender to at least moderately dislike poetry...or at the very least make a statement like, "yeah, i can never understand that stuff...why dont they write like normal people" if the topic ever comes up in a space dominated by males.
But aside from some of the perplexing qualities of poetry—and once i get past the vast pretentious and sometimes vacuous ramblings—i find that i am oddly attracted to it. before you pull my mancard, permanently, for this offense, let me explain.
I dont like the confusing rambling poetry that seems to be set on making writing into a game where the winner is one who invents the most new ambiguous phrases and causes the most people to jump off the Golden Gate in despair. i also don't like any verse that makes no attempt at being even slightly artistic in nature. writing: "The pear is here. the pear is not round" does not count to me as any type of artistic writing.
See, i appreciate poetry as it artfully weaves the cadence of life into verse. Stripped bare of filler words and focused on the essentials. poetry in its purest form, to me, is sort of the "Occam's Razor" of literature. Just the facts ma'am. It delightfully captures the beautiful, painful and mundane in life and illustrates it vividly for the imagination. With my mind as a canvass the words as ink and the pen as a brush, the words paint pictures that stir my soul and enrapture my mind. i can read it and marvel at humanities ability to lay on paper the magic of nature and of life.
so in short...i really just like reading Dr. Seuss.

Peace on Earth

So im sitting in Greg's room...on his computer...typing this. after we just got back from hardcore guy-shopping. ("guy shopping" means that we walked into various stores and wandered aimlessly and looked at crap that we wanted to get for ourselves before finally picking something remotely adequate for the person we were shopping for. its all perfectly normal)
obviously, this close to Christmas the mall was basically an exhibition of all things related to human depravity. each store seemed to be showcase of every base inclination of human nature, these milling masses of humanity on display there like so many creatures in a zoo. i stood outside (and inside some) and observed the behavior of these peculiar creatures all crammed into the same living space and competing for bits of metal and plastic (ironically paying for them with bits of metal and plastic). And through the whole thing all i could think was: "Oh how i love Christmas." Not odd for me really...i DO love Christmas and all things associated with it (including crowds...but NOT bad drivers), but it IS odd that when i sit down and think about it, i was just as intrigued by the act of watching people and analyzing their actions as i was by the act of buying my gifts. (and i LOVE buying gifts...i tend to go a bit overboard, its true) i guess that just says something about me. im not sure what, but i'm sure it does say something.

Panera and Postmodernism

Today i was driving to work (read: place i go that pays me to do something i love), and i was behind a truck belonging to a very well known bread and restaurant company. On the back of the truck was a picture of a very appealing looking loaf of bread, ostensibly right out of the oven, with the caption under it reading: "Unsliced Bread...the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread". i stopped and stared at it (well...i didn't have a choice...there was a red light...and i am a law abiding citizen), and i felt a slight sense of intrigue and maybe a bit of condescension...
Don't get me wrong, i love the occasional ironic turn of phrase. no one appreciates plays on the English idiom more than I. especially when they might prey upon standardized, socially acceptable norms. maybe I'm just a rebel at heart clothed in this disguise of a rule lover...whatever the reason, i do love all the nuances involved in turning a phrase on its head to do anything from getting a laugh to making a point...philosophical, sociological, metaphysical, theological, or otherwise.
But...this one got me thinking and musing. So much so that i whipped out my trusty iPhone and quickly snapped out a snarky little response in my "notes" section. (At the stop light)
I looked back on it today and from what i could discern through the hastily typed and oddly autocorrected words (darn you, iPhone!) was that, then, and now, i am fascinated by how much, to borrow the colloquialism, "The more things change the more they stay the same".
No, i am not finally bowing to a cliche to express myself. fear not, i fully intend to broaden the scope of my feelings here. but that is basically what i pounded out on my keypad to express my incredulous feelings. well...honestly not really "incredulous"...much of this culture's fascination with postmodernity and its subsequent infiltration in marketing has lost all surprise for me.
I guess what really struck me was how much we crave to be different. once something becomes the norm we must move on to the next thing lest we become "normal" (gasp!) and therefore, we are told, irrelevant. Remember when Northface was all the rage? phsst, that was SO Jr. High. It's why Mac's, which used to be the norm, then were old news and outdated, are once again so popular in the face of an industry saturated with all things Microsoft. (I admit, it may be trendy and thus regrettable later...but I LOVE all things Mac.)
Why does that statement on the back of a Panera truck strike so many chords? why does it really, honestly, hit home and actually convince people to buy bread there? is it the draw of a bakery that provides a bread buying experience that we associate with some nostalgic time in the past (that neither we, nor our parents, actually had any part of!) so it thus must be profoundly more appealing?
Or is it just the fact that since Panera says it, and it sounds funny and maybe slightly profound...in a rather cheeky way...we feel that its the way we ought to feel? Maybe...but i honestly think its more than that. its really the human heart and spirit to want new. to want better. to want the different. to crave change. In today's space and time we tend to revert back to history, to the old, to the times of yore; craving this eclectic collage of past and present that, broadly, constitutes the core of postmodern culture. And i would never argue that this is always bad. i just wonder WHY. And perhaps more importantly, i wonder how our lives would be different if these urges, embedded deep in our psyche and culture, did not drive our rabid consumerism.

Love Wins

We loved rightly

We gave love truly

We loved deeply

How can it be

That this kind of pain

Is the end

Of all that has been right?

I saw thunderclouds eclipse the sun

Stark against the early morning light

Bands of shadow hiding flame

God I pray for your name

Let not the roar of this storm

Eclipse your fame

We loved without reserve

We gave love without regret

We loved without fear

How can it be

That this kind of pain

Tells us we have done right?

But I understand

It might be a storm that brings you glory

And I delight to watch here

And be a part of this story

Because I know in the end

Love will heal the tears

Because after all,

Love wins.

For I am convinced of this: that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life; neither angels or demons, neither our fears for today or our fears for tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from the love of God. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all of creation will ever be able to separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus. We know how much God loved us, and we have put our trust in his love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them. (Romans 8:38-39; 1 John 4:16)

Dedicated to Ben Willey