Dog Theology, part 7: Dirty Love

The next installment in the series titled Dog Theology.

Recently, my wife and I went camping. 5 days of outside, showering only once, bugs and dirt. Our dogs' favorite part...the dirt. Everytime we take them camping they come home dirty, filthy, nasty, dust in their fur, mongrels. Upon coming home, our entire family got bathed. The result, clean puppies, clean people and a drain clogged with coarse black dog hair.

If you can't tell, I really love my dogs. Whether dirty or clean, I love'em. When their dirty, I rub on'em and get dirty myself and enjoy every minute of it. They're my filthy four-legged angels. When they're clean, I enjoy their clean-ness, their soft fur, and rub on'em and enjoy every minute of it.

When this is happening the puppies get the 'Nathan voice:' I voice a use only to address my dogs. You know, it's that baby, infantilizing, high pitched, excited to see them voice. It's their very own voice.

I wonder if God looks at us the same way. We quickly condemn the 'dirty' ones in society and relegate them to a category unworthy of divine love and favor. But really, I see such a person as just-as-loved by God as anyone else. God rubs on us and gets dirt on God's hands. When we do something wrong or shameful we also tend to condemn ourselves as unworthy of divine love or love from anyone else for that matter.

I think that if we could only see through our own self-condemnation and self-judgment and abasement, we'd see a God who is smiling at us, excited to see us, and speaking to us in our very own (puppy) voice from God.

Just like I'm not afraid to give my dirty dog a belly rub, even though I'll get dirty, I have this image of a God who's not afraid to show love and grace toward people considered 'dirty.'

Humans draw lines in the sand between one another claiming, "this group is not in God's favor," or "these people are different, wrong, bad," or "these people are holy and clean while those people are defiled and dirty and condemned." How sad would it be if we had a God who did the same thing. What if God, no matter how screwed up we get, actually loved us all: you, me, your middle school bully, illegal immigrants, homosexual people, prisoners, members of the Taliban. I sure hope that, no matter how much we may hate, despise or loath certain people, God is able to love them.

No matter how dirty we may think we get, I sure do believe that God is in the business of dirty love.

{The picture above is the dirtiest Lola has ever gotten. It's also the happiest.}

Don't even try it

For our honeymoon, my wife and I took a week long cruise in the Carribean. It was wonderful, and we had a blast. I learned that one of the appeals to cruises is you get to go to other countries and take advantage of duty free liquor and cheap cigars made in countries with whom America doesn't do business.

Many people prefer to buy certain items, such as cigars and liquor and take them back home. Heather and I did not do this. In fact, one man, I called him the "fun manager," on the boat convinced us not even to try smuggling certain items back into America when he said something like this, "If you think you can beat customs, think again. It's these people's jobs to catch you, and they're good at it." And he was right. What hawaiian-t-shirt-wearing jerk thinks he can sneak something past people who catch you for a living. (Except for the time I smuggled 3 miniature Cuban cigars through customs on a high school cruise when I was 16. But, I wasn't wearing a hawaiian t-shirt!)

My advice, if you think you can fool these people, don't even try it.

Similarly, I was in the trauma bay recently when a man was wheeled it smelling of strong alcohol. Not unusual. As he was conscious, the doctors began asking him what happened.

"I fell," was his first attempt.

"Mr. K, you have a knife wound here," said the doctor skeptically, "who else was involved?"

"Uh, nobody," said the man eyeing the police officer waiting in the corner, "I was by myself." Getting frustrated the no-nonsense doctor said, "Sir, you want to tell us what really happened so we can help you?"

Lie after obvious-no-time-to-concoct-a-worthy-story lie, this man tried to hide what really happened to him from the medical staff and police. In his drunken stupor, and because they'll only ask what happened so many time, he seemed to believe that the docs and nurses believed him. But, if you've ever considered lying to ER staff, let me be very clear about something: you're not the first inebriated bonehead who thinks he can slip one past these people!

They see injuries everyday and know what certain injuries should look like. Like the customs agents, it's their job. It's actually not that uncommon for people to try and lie their way through the trauma bay, but it never works. People have tried to say it was a bar fight when clearly they'd been driving, or some have simply claimed that they don't know what happened even though they were awake the entire time. "I don't know how the car accident happened," is a common explanation even when EMS finds a cell phone with part of a text message typed. Honestly, how can you not know how it happened when your father-in-law shoots you in your own living room?

Actually, the best patients in the ER are the ones that tell the truth. The med staff often starts chuckling when a man begins a sentence with, "I'm not going lie to you..." because we know it's usually going to end with something good: "...I had way to much to drink, and she was smok'n hott." Or, "I wanted to show my buddies that you can jump a moped off a ramp just like a dirt bike. Guess I wa' wrong."

The best what the guy with the finger nail scratches on his face from the girl he was cheating with claiming it was his cat to his girlfriend wouldn't find out.

My advice, if you're going to try and fib your way through the ER, don't even try it.

Colleagues, what other wacky tales or truths have you heard pass through the ETB?

{Note: picture not from SRHS trauma bay.}

God says "yes" to me

Here's a little poem I heard today which will make you're theological mind smile. A warning, if you think on this one too much, it's quite likely it will mess with your theology, so be careful.

Enjoy.

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure it
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exacly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph my letters
Sweet cakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Are you smiling? I am.

Thanks Vicki for this one.

--Kaylin Haught, “God Says Yes to Me,”
From The Palm of Your Hand (1995)

4 Years

Five days ago, Heather and I celebrated our four year anniversary! It's still hard to believe that girl has stayed married to this ol' bum for that long and is eager for more.

We said our traditional vows and "I dos" at Isaqueena Point, a private little grassy penninsula, on Lake Keowee, SC. The ceremony lasted no longer than 20 minutes and was attended by no more than 100 people. We didn't want a tiny wedding, but we also didn't want to meet anyone new on our day of nuptual agreement.

Here's a fun picture of Heather and the groomsmen. At the end we left on my dad's testosterone filled 21-foot ski and fish combo Triton boat with a 225 horse power engine (que Tim Taylor's man grunt). It was fun, plus no one degraded our car with used toilet paper and muffler covering condoms (something I wouldn't put past my friends).

To celebrate, this year we went camping at the Davidson River Camp Ground in the Pisgah National Forest near Brevard, NC. 5 days and 4 nights later my back was ready for some rest on a real mattress. Here's a few observations and lessons I've gleaned from my time spent in the "semi-wilderness" of the campground.

Camping involves lots, I mean lots, of bending down and getting up and down from the ground. Many muscles in my back which I don't use that much were sore for

many days.

We took the dogs, our babies. They remained tied up while outside the tent, and I'm always puzzled at why, when they lie down, they insist on being at the very end of their leash to the point that the leash is taught and their throats are squeezed a bit. But they'll nap like that.

For some reason, even though we're sleeping in the woods, we always find ourselves offended at the spiders and other creapy crawlers that invade our camp space. I mean, really, where do they get off climbing on our tent and across our gravel?!

I'll always be amazed at just how much gear we are able to pack into our little two-door Saturn coupe which already carries the two of us and two 60lb dogs. Packing the trunk has become an art form at which I am a Rembrandt.

Lastly, one reason I love camping so much is the chance to do nothing but stare at and be in nature. And the cell phones are neglected, save a lovely call from my sister wishing us happy anniversary. (Okay, that's actually two reasons...meh.)

I look forward to many more anniversary camping trips with Heather, who will always be my bride, my sweetheart, the holder of my heart, and the one girl in this world whom I adore endlessly.

I love you Heather. Happy anniversary!

Food Inc.,

I just watched Food Inc., directed by Emmy Award-winner Robert Kenner. This documentary film examines corporate farming in the US particularly focusing on the meat and vegetable producers.

And let me start the review by saying that this film both blew my hair back and did not. Before watching it, I knew that a critical and honest look at where our super-market items come from would be unsettling, and it was--this was no surprise. But for some reason, I also wasn't ready for it.

Many of the images and statistics are very shocking. Cows standing in knee-high liquidy maneuer just before they're taken away for slaughtering. Chickens stimulated to grow meat so quickly that their bones can't keep up, and so they can only walk a few steps at a time. Chicken farmers are forced to keep up with their contracting company's regulations, which has led the average chicken farmer, who makes $18,000/year, to be upwards of $500,000 in debt. The piggies were cute.

I'm all for treating animals nicely, but their humane (or lack thereof) treatment was the least of the concerns in the film. In Smithfield, NC sits the largest meat packing plant in the world, and most of the employees are foreign workers. The company recruits these workers from Mexico, gets them here, treats them horribly, and makes deals with immigration officers to arrest about 15 workers per day in order to maintain a state of fear and lack of voice/rights from the workers. In the 1950's, being a meat packer was a respectable job with a livable wage and benefits. Now, because of conditions in the plants, it is one of the most dangerous jobs available--right up their with coal miner.

On the farm, corn is mass produced beyond your imagination. The pictures of mountains--literally mountains--of corn were probably the most astonishing. And because we have so much corn, first we sell it in other countries driving local farmers out of business, and second we break it down into High Fructose Corn Syrup and inject it into about %90 of what you buy in the super-market.

Less than twenty years ago the Supreme Court ruled that it was legal to patent life. Why does this matter? Because one company began patenting the genetically modified organisms (GMOs) that you could then plant to produce the highest yielding crops. Seeds! We modified seeds to make more food. That's good. We then patented them so that one major company, Monsanto, owns virtually all the seed planted by American farmers.

Why does this matter? Imagine your a farmer who is finishing up the season's harvest. Part of your task is to gather and store seed from the harvest in order to plant for the next year. But now you can't, because if you do, then Monsanto will sue you for stealing their property because they own the patent on that seed. Some farmers resisted buying Monsanto seed, even though their neighbors didn't. The wind carrys pollen from the neighboring farm to their farm and Monsanto seed with it. Monsanto's greesy investigators find out, and then they slap an already struggling farmer with an expensive lawsuit. One farmer, just because he didn't use Monsanto seed, was sued for "inciting other farmers against using Monsanto seed leading to profit loss." That's furiously ridiculous. That farmer settled and payed Monsanto the settlement fee just because it's more expensive to fight the legal battle.

There are laws in certain states that make it illegal for anyone (yes, anyone) to speak against the meet production industry, because the industry would then sue you for slander and profit loss. The injustices pointed out by the film piled for an hour and a half and made me want to punch some corporate executives in the head.

The film offers some glimmers of hope: examples of how the tobacco industry was forced to change and so might the food industry, Walmart offering many more organic options, and small local meat farmers surviving in the market against big corporations by providing better quality and selling at farmers' markets.

I recomment that everyone watch this film. I award it the ever-coveted "Nathan-two-thumbs-up." The movie offers a peak into the kitchen to see who is preparing our food and how it is being done. You don't have to go rent it or put it on your Netflix que. Just, do like I did and search for it on YouTube. I watched the whole thing there in 10-minute segments. So, you have no excuse not to, and if you watch Food Inc., I predict you'll begin to watch food a bit more closely.

Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell

I just finished reading, Blink: The power of thinking withoug thininking, by Malcolm Gladweel, and I can see why this book quickly became a #1 national bestseller. Especially in the wake of his previous successful book, The Tipping Point, this book was highly anticipated by readers.

Blink is Gladwell's attempt to point out plainly and clearly what is going on behind the curtain in our minds. Our conscious overt decision making mind takes place "on stage" or in front of a mental curtin behind which lies the unconscious. And this book shows that the unconscious is far more powerful than most of us give it credit.

Here's an example. A statue was being reviewed by a museum for purchase. After carbon dating tests, geological tests, archeological and all kinds of other scientific and fancy testing had been done, the expensive statue appeared to be abeautifully preserved original. Just before purchasing it, the museam brought in a few experts on ancient Greek statues. One expert said that after only seconds of viewing the statue he knew something was fishy about it, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Another expert while talking with the museum curator asked, "Have you paid money for this?" The curator responded, "So far, only a down payment." "Can you get a refund?" blurted out the expert without noticing what she was saying.

Several top experts, after one look, questioned the statue's authenticity contrary to all the other evidence. This prompted a closer look from the technological angle, which later revealed the statue, of course, to be a fake.

The point: In the Blink of an eye, the brain of the experts compared this statue to the thousands of originals they had seen before and judged it to be false. This resulted in an unexplainable, inarticulate feeling of uncertainty or uncomfortableness with the statue. None of the experts could articulate why they questioned it, they just did. This processing which goes on constantly in the back of our minds lead the experts to such conclusions and is what Blink is about.

Gladwell uses a myriad of examples covering many different types of mental processing to demonstrate his point. From interviewing New York City speed daters to rehashing Coke Cola Company's dangerous venture with New Coke to the examination of minute facial expressions to predicting marital success rates to discussions with police officers who've in split second decisions had to use their guns, the topics are relevant and intriguing.

Gladwell is a fine writer. Blink is written smoothly for any reader, and for 275 pages it went rather quickly. The topics kept me engaged so much so that I read 100 pages without even noticing. However, I should say that by the end of the book I was ready to be done.

The lessons of the book are thus. Lesson 1: Our unconscious is far more powerful over our actions and motivations that we probably think. Blink us gives permission to trust our gut, or intuition, a bit more. In fact, near the end, Gladwell's advice is to be sure to calculate the small decisions of life, those choices that affect our immediate and short-term happiness and status. But in large, big life-decisions we ought to go with our gut. In that job interview, first date or even life and death situation, trust your instincts; because, even though you haven't done a flow chart or a pros and cons list, your unconscious mind is rapidly processing and sending you conclusion via your emotional response.

Lesson 2: "Understanding the true nature of instinctive decision making requires us to be forgiving of those people in circumstances where good judgment is imperiled" (pg. 263). Clearly, split decisions can also be bad desicions, and like infantry soldiers in the midst of battle, we don't always have the luxery of time to pre-think every choice we make. And this can get us into trouble.

Lesson 3: Sometimes, less information is more. Learning too much about a situation before we decide can cloud our judgment. The scientistse examining the statue in the earlier example who "knew" so much about it were hindered in the end by document after document from lawyers and geologists proving its authenticity.

This book has been a really great compliment to my learning during this year of residency. This year, by intentionally reflecting on my functioning as a chaplain and through a therapy process, I have spent much time learning about my own unconscious and how it affects me and my relationships.

Blink is a real pleasure to read. It teaches us about ourselves and our world. Because of it, I will definitly read more books by Malcom Gladwell. I recommend it to the casual reader whose looking for something different and fun. It won't change your world, but it will change how you often view the world; and, it won't change who you are, but possibly in a Blink it may change how you think.

Stories

For the past 11 months I have oft shared the stories of those I meet in the hospital. There's something about stories, narratives, journies that, when we hear them, somehow change us. Not every story need end with a lesson, moral or act as a parable; because, some stories speak their own message just by being told.

I, personally, think that when we hear other peoples' stories we realize just a little bit more how we're all connected. When I hear a story about your struggle, I think back to my own times of struggle and how difficult it was. Suddenly, I feel a little bit more understood by the world and connected to others. A good story draws us in, captures our intrigue and builds a sense of community between us.

So, here are two more stories from the hospital. I'm sorry they're not happy, lift-your-spirits, or make-your-day type stories, but I feel they need to be heard. And, for me, they need to be told.

_______________________

A couple of months ago a woman was in a severe car accident and wound up in the ER. Every bone in her face had been broken. Amazingly, she survived, and after reconstructive surgery and three weeks in a coma she was allowed to wake up.

Upon waking, she saw her nurse, wondered where she was and later how she got in the hospital. Her first day awake, in came the physical therapist, occupational therapist, respiratory therapist, phycisian trailed by med students and several others who, for three weeks now, had routinely done there jobs providing her with care. Each one acted natural as if it were just another day.

But, can you imagine waking up to a strange place and strange people all who are milling about acting natural when you have 1,000 questions bursting in your mind. Her husband was thrilled to see her awake and to get to speak to her (though she couldn't yet speak because of a trache tube in her neck still helping her breathe).

"Something about a car wreck, surgery, weeks unconcious...?! What has happened? Why am I here? My whole life is now changed? What!? Hold on...everybody stop for a minute!" She awoke to people doing what they had been doing for weeks, but to her it was all new, fresh, raw, and overwhelming. Nobody stopped.

When I went in to talk with her, she was scatter-brained. Her mind going all different places and not one of them was the present. I encouraged her to slow down, take a moment of silence and start from the beginning. We began saying simple statements together, "I was in a car accident." "I almost died." "I was unconscious for almost a month." "I no longer have a right eye." "I'm scared, angry, sad, furious, and I feel alone."

It didn't take long for her tears to come. She never had a chance to process what had happened nor what was happening to her now. She and I made some good progress and even more with the chaplain who followed up with her. She is now out of the hospital, and I pray she continues to have help dealing with her traumatic experience and life change.

I wonder how often my, or your, busy life keeps us from saying the simple things in order to better deal with them. My guess is we don't do this enough. Perhaps you might try it. "My dad doesn't know how to show emotion, and now it's hard for me to." "I often feel inadequate but hide it very well from others." "These affect my relationships with others in negative ways."

What things do you need to say, or rather admit, to yourself?

______________________

A 9-year old girl was recently eating lunch in her elementary school cafeteria. Suddenly, sharp shooting pain erupted in her head, and the teacher had to half-carry her to the school nurse. Vomitting began, EMS was called and the girl stopped breathing. The nurse breathed for the unconscious little angel who never met a stranger and often brought gifts to her teachers on her own gumption.

At the hospital she was put on the ventilator and the proper life-saving emergency medicines were pumped into her viens. When they finally got her "stabilized" the doc confronted the parents. The conversation was gut wrentching to hear. During it, mom said, "The last thing she said to me as she left for school this morning was, 'Love you mom, I'll be good at school today.'" The doctor was brilliantly graceful in telling mom and dad that their little daughter was brain dead and there was nothing that surgery or medicine could do. "I feel that her soul is already with God," said the doctor at one point to make his point clear.

I sat with them for two hours as they broke down time and time again like ocean waves crashing on their shoulders one after another. "How will we tell her sisters?" said mom (the sisters are 5 and 7). Every phone call check in from other family members brough back the pain and intense tears. It seemed like there just weren't enough tissues. Rarely have I seen that many tears and such brutal anguish on a person's face.

Before removing the ventilator and life-sustaining treatment, policy says that doctors must preform two brain activity tests 24 hours apart, both with negative results. So, the little girl was moved to an ICU and the parents underwent a day and a half of greuling tortorous grief brought on anew every time a medical person told them their daughter was still unresponsive.

Mom and dad consented to donate her organs to help other children struggling for health, and eventually, she was taken to surgery to have them removed. I cannot fathom the pain and ache in which they are facing. I can't imagine how the world would change after something like this. My guess is colors would be dull, tastes and smells would be bland, and humor would be a stranger. The world would be a little less bright. At least this is the notion I took from their eyes.

In this situation, some would say, "We never know what God's will is, or why God chooses to take someone from us, so we just have to trust God to know what God is doing." Where ever God is in a situation like this, I don't think God caused it. If God is anywhere in suffering then God must have some solidarity with those suffering. I hope this theology was mirrored to the broken-hearted dad when I said, "I believe God's heart is broken too."

I like the idea that when our hearts break, God's heart breaks too. Think of a time when you have been devestated by grief. Did you hear God crying with you?

It is finished!

Last Saturday night, May 8, 2010 my wife came to the end of suffering through pharmacy school and, like Jesus at the end of suffering on the cross, is able to say, "It is finished!"

Sometime around this time of the year in 2006, Heather walzted into the house I was renting with a stunned look on her face as she read to me her acceptance letter into the UNC School of Pharmacy (our nation's 2nd best pharmacy school [in the nation!]).

It is an under-statement to say pharmacy school is difficult to get in to. Not even every state has at least one pharm school, and with the prescription drug industry growing like weeds runnin' from a wild fire there is a large need for pharmacists. UNC accepts up to 150 pharmacy students each year after sifting through 10 times that many applications. The application process entails submitting lengthy documents, essays, a high score on the graduate record exam for science called the PCAT, and an intense interview. Most do not get into pharm school on their first attempt.

The program includes 3 years of class work followed by 10 months of practical, hands on, unpaid clinical work. During her second year, "the hell year," Heather and her classmates took over 40 exams--not little quizzes, but study-hard-large-portion-of-your-grade...exams. Frankly, I didn't see her much that year.

For her forth year, we had to relocate our lives to the western part of the state to a quaint little homely town, Asheville. While still paying graduate school tuition prices, she worked all year, 40+ hours per week. Each month she changed to a different work location having to re-learn every time how each pharmacy and staff operated. Some rotation sites were in the same building, some were down the street, and some were in the next county.

In short, pharmacy school is no cake walk. At one point, some of the other husbands of pharmacy students and I almost formed a Pharmacy Student Spouses Coalition to bring voice to the demanding professors in order to have some time with our wives once again. More than once did Heather and others wonder if it was worth it, and by graduating she has taught me a thing or two about perseverence and character. Alas, pharmacy school is now relegated to the past tense!

Here are several pictures to celebrate the occasion. I was beaming with pride at her graduation!

Going up to walk the stage, carring her hood...

Now, with the hood on. Dr. Heather Keyes Rogers, everyone! She wore the full academic robe. The hood indicates graduate level education while the chevrons on the sleeves and mushroom hat indicate the highest level or doctoral achievement. So, for instance, masters degree graduates recieve hoods, but have the regular flat square hats and no sleeve stripes. I guess I'll have to start calling her, "Dr. Wife."

These two got each other through pharmacy school. We love you Anna!

The fab five... With the husbands...

And the fam...

The Old Well at UNC is iconic...

The crew at dinner...
Poking fun at dinner...

Lauren's reaction when Heather didn't trip walking across the stage...

A happy couple...

Our hosts, Bill and Betty, with whom we stayed while in Chapel Hill. They are our favorite Chapel Hillians EVER!

And finnally, here's the video of Heather graduating. Our row got pretty loud cheering for her, and when the clapping died down someone gave a shout-out to her which produced a gratifying laugh from the crowd and a nicely embarrassed graduate. Enjoy.

A Hierarchy of Pleasures

Several months ago, I introduced you to my good chaplain friend, Cathie Crawford. Despite her sharp wit and smooth way with words, Cathie does not blog regularly; however, I have successfully prodded her into now blogging twice by offering to post it on my site.

So, here she is, a special guest blogger with a short thought provoking subject. Click here for her first blog.

Enjoy.

__________________________

HIERARCHY OF GOOD PLEASURES

THE BIG “O” OR MULTIPLE BIG “Os”

A GOOD CRAP

RELIEVING A FULL BLADDER

A GOOD SNEEZE

A SWEET PIECE OF LAUGHTER

SCRATCHING AN ITCH

A NICE COLD GLASS OF WATER

GETTING A MASSAGE

You know, these are some things that I’ve thought about, and I’ve wondered if other people have thought about them too. I wonder how other people would order them according to their own preference.

What would you add to this list, take away, or switch around. Consider it a social experiment.

Leather and Lace

My little sister (in-law) goes to NC-State. She's a senior in their College of Textiles. Each senior in her program has to complete the senior project, which is to design and make their own themed line of clothing. All the projects come together in the nexus of the fashion world at Threads: Senior Collection, a fashion show featuring each student's work. Two weekends ago, I went to Threads, my first ever (and honestly, probably only ever) fashion show. Lauren (my cute li'l sissy!) was one of 16 seniors presenting, and her theme was Leather and Lace. She brought together these two contrasting and unlikely materials as a metaphor for the strong and delicate sides of every woman. If you don't know Lauren, you should know that a Leather and Lace theme fits her personality to the "T" (whatever that saying actually means). Lauren is a sweet, small, fiesty, fireball, sometimes ball-busting, loving and compassionate sister. Thus, this theme emphasizing contrast is all too appropriate.

The show was no small deal. Three prestigeous judges from the fashion business world and a number of higher-ups in textile industry attended and gave their support. Below are pictures of Lauren's clothing (minus one outfit b/c my camera was too slow) and some highlight outfits from other students participating. Lauren made 7 total pieces.

Though Lauren did not win the judged contest portion of it, my fashion expertise is fair sure her's was the best and most fun line of clothing. I'm sure the judges didn't award her first place because they didn't want everyone else knowing of their secret fantasy to wear leather and lace together (I know it's one of mine).

To end the show, of course, we had to have a cameo apperance by the infamous Randaal!

Messy Spirituality, by Michael Yaconelli

I recently read Messy Spirituality: God's annoying love for imperfect people, by Mikael Yaconelli. And, I gotta say, aren't you just a little bit jealous that your last name isn't Yaconelli?

This little book was delightful. Less than 150 pages, Yaconelli writes in a very smooth style about the struggles of spirituality for average people.

Not interested in preaching about ideals or "shoulds" when it comes to spirituality, the author, from his own life experience, discusses the spiritual life for messy, beat-up, normal people. The real blessing of this book is that Yaconelli gives his readers permission to skrew up, to do it wrong, and to fall on our faces as many times as we need to.

He puts it best this way, "Spirituality is anything but a straight line; it is a mixed up, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter godliness that turns our lives into an upside down toboggan ride full of unexpedted turns, surprise bumps, and bone-shattering crashes. In other words, messy spirituality is the delirious consequence of a life ruined by a Jesus who will love us right into his arms" (pg. 17).

The book is kind of a pep talk for those of us unable to live in secluded monastaries and have "perfect" or "clean" spirituality. It is for everyday folks doing their best in between rush hour and evening supper trying to remain aware that God is somehow present even when the kids are screaming.

Yaconelli shares myriad delightful stories that point to the sacred in everyday life. Instead of tales of ordinary people doing extraordinary feets, he tells of ordinary, and sometimes messed up people, doing normal things but with profound spiritual undertones.

This book is what I needed after my last book review. I would recommend it to anyone looking for some light devotional reading with down-to-earth material.

Messy Spirituality is a quick read you could finish in a weekend, and perhaps let yourself relax a little bit reassured that God is not demanding perfection from you. Again, Yaconelli sums this point up well, "Spirituality is not a formula; it is not a test. It is a relationship. Spirituality is not about competency; it is about intimacy. Spirituality is not about perfection; it is about connection" (pg 13).

Pastoral Theology

For the last month, each of us chaplain residents have been working to write out and articulate our pastoral theology. This is the theology (ordered thought about God) which informs and is at the foundation of how we are when visiting patients.

Questions to consider: Does the God that I believe in cause me to be more compassionate or less? Does Jesus stand at a distance from sick people when talking to them or does he come close, kneel down and look you in the eye? Did you ever think that your theology can be communicated through your body language? When confronted with someone's emotional pain and intense acute grief, does Spirit run from it and pretend like everything's "okay" or move toward the pain giving the person permission to cry and wail as long as needed?

These questions and others like them are what connect our beliefs to our practice, and it is those beliefs that I have had to expound on recently. Below are some of the highlights from my own pastoral theology paper. Enjoy.

In my understanding, sin is but one of many ways to describe the human condition, the problem with humanity. “Sin” is but one way to articulate that there is something wrong. I understand sin to mean “to miss the mark,” to wrong someone or fall short. A relatively broad word, sin has levels of meaning ranging from an archer missing her target to a felon committing an act of murder. Jesus continually demonstrated in the gospel narrative that God’s response to sin is forgiveness. However, sin, in my theological vocabulary, is not the catch-all term for our need for God’s grace. If I am in exile, forgiveness is not what I need from my relationship with God but rather a way home. If spiritual blindness ails me then I need sight; if I am in bondage, I need to be set free. Being lost calls for my need to be found, having a hardened heart calls for gentleness, and hunger calls for food.

In this way, salvation is the way, the freedom from bondage, food for the hungry, healing, recovery of sight for the blind and, yes, forgiveness of sins. Jesus both embodied and pointed us toward a God, who is in the business of all of these and more, and it is in that same embodiment and reminder of God that Jesus offers salvation to broken humanity.

I must be careful here not to apply salvation as a band aid and God as “divine-fixer” of all life’s problems. No, my faith system is not in place in order to avoid any and all pain and suffering. Rather, it is an admission that there is already ample pain and suffering in our world. Rather, Jesus lived and taught a way that stimulates a community which will support one
another as we live life experiencing joy, peace as well as suffering and struggle and pain.

Quite frankly, my theological drinking well for reconciling the problem of a loving, powerful God with evil in the world has run dry. I have come to adopt a Forrest Gump approach to the question of theodicy: “Sometimes…shit happens.” It is not up to me to try and assign blame or reason to bad things in our world or to try and explain God’s role in the matter. If God is anywhere in suffering then God must be on the side that strives for life. And if God is in the business of life then it seems fair to say that God has some amount of solidarity with the suffering. I have come to realize that death is not the opposite of life but merely a part of life. Instead, the opposite of life is something more like loneliness, isolation. And if loneliness is the antithesis of life then this sheds light on the affect of God’s presence, because presence, by definition, is the opposite of loneliness. By simply being present with those in isolation God is love. And what better way for us to feel God’s love which staves away our isolation than when a dear friend is simply with us.

If God is in me, then by offering my whole and authentic self to others I am offering God.

This description of grace is quite distant from that of my religious tradition (upbringing); however, I believe that in being different I do not move away from my religious heritage but rather, I add to it.

Questions - Comments - Concerns?