Your Mom Stinks of Hope

I like poetic prose. Rhyme and rhythm. (Or rhythm and rhyme.) I dig similes. I also enjoy metaphors. Yes, in general, I like playful, spirited, energetic and creative language that bends things around a bit. By Jove, I even like slang. I simply say this so that the poets around the world will know that I am not biased against them from the start. Poets, I love you. (Make that roughly twenty-five percent of you. Let’s be honest: the rest of you are more or less rubbish.)

Here’s my beef. This Sunday in church, there was a short inspirational video shown after the sermon about hope. And at one point, the phrase “may you stink of hope” was used. I think the intent was to inspire people to allow their hope to be felt by others around them, so that those people too would be inspired. A wonderful sentiment. But let’s call this what it is: a badly botched metaphor. I don’t want to blow things out of proportion, but “stink of hope?” Unacceptable. I’m putting my foot down.

Now, to be fair, I suppose I can admit that it was an effective choice of language in the sense that I still remember it. But the imagery this conjures up is only negative, and of course that is because “stink” is never used in a positive sense. “Dude, it stinks in here.” Or, “Dude, your girlfriend kind of stinks.” There is not a scenario in which this could be taken positively. Even if I try to get creative and say “Dude, your girlfriend stinks of perfume” or “money” or “beauty” it is still quite clearly negative (not to mention confusing).

I imagine “hope stinking Christians” as these obnoxious sales people who run around smacking people in the face with their happiness. And God help us, we have all known people like that. They do stink. (Again, not in a positive way.)

“May your joy be as contagious as syphilis.”

“May God fill you up with so much love that you puke it all over your friends.”

It just doesn’t work for me.

Alright, devil’s advocate: What about slang? Didn’t the 1980’s teach us that “bad” can be “good?” The same for “wicked,” “nasty,” and even “stupid.” “Yo, dawg, that girl is straight up nasty hot.” And yet “nasty” is traditionally negative! Madness! But it works! Fine. So I’m a hypocrite. But I stand by my statement: “stink” is negative. Only. It should be used to describe farts and dead people. If that makes me a crotchety old man who hates poetry, then so be it. Jedi.

The Dark Knight

The Dark Knight might just be the best superhero movie ever made. I’ll have to see it again to be sure, but it easily cracks the top three. Why? It’s simple: because director Christopher Nolan refuses to be confined by the traditional limits of the genre.

With superhero movies, the audience is expected to be generous with its suspension of disbelief, and clearly (judging from the box-office returns of many superhero movies), we’re okay with that. We can live with a certain level of nonsense, because it’s fun and exciting. It’s just a superhero movie, right? Lighten up. But as a result of this agreement, it can be easy to dismiss the Herculean characters we’re watching as mere pawns of entertainment. We like them, sure, but we don’t really identify with them.

The Dark Knight pops that old agreement like a zit; no more nonsense. Knight insists on being taken seriously, and defies you to dismiss it as just summer entertainment. Everything hammers the audience as dead-on real. The settings. The danger. And most importantly, the characters.

Like all good stories, it starts with great characters. There are no weak links; Christian Bale plays the increasingly smug Bruce Wayne with cool candor; Aaron Eckhart dials down his usual pomp a half degree for Harvey Dent and makes him both likable, and tragic; Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman continue to be perfect in the supporting roles of Alfred and Lucius Fox; Gary Oldman is subtly brilliant as the determinedly righteous Officer Gordon; and Maggie Gyllenhaal brings a nice spark to the role of Rachel Dawes. Yes. She sure does. I know what you’re thinking: this is all just filler talk. Yup. You busted me. Because as good as these actors are in the film—and I meant it when I said there were no weak links—they pale in comparison to the late Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker. It is already becoming something of a cliché to praise Ledger’s performance, but the truth simply can’t be understated: Ledger’s Joker ranks among the best movie villains of all time. He’s flat-out mesmerizing, and it will be a stinging disappointment if he doesn’t posthumously receive the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. It’s strange to admit, but I found myself being increasingly lured into enjoying his sick psychosis.

Anchored by the maniacal Joker, the tone of the film is relentlessly dark. That’s not to say there isn’t humor. But it comes in unsettling forms: Alfred’s dry witticisms of the harsh times, the passively bitter exchanges between Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent, and most especially, the sinister musings of the Joker. Yes, the Joker is funny, but it’s definitely in the how-can-someone-be-so-evil-and-so-charismatic-at-the-same-time category of humor.

The Joker never breaks the forth wall, but he might as well; his mockery of humanity’s goodness strikes us with uncommon force because indeed we fear that he might very well be right. As the Joker puts it, “People are only as good as the world lets them be.”

That’s really the theme of the movie, this question being asked again and again: What happens to good when it is confronted by evil? Which is stronger? Even as he is terrorizing the hapless citizen of Gotham and challenging Batman to rise to the occasion, it is as if the Joker is actually looking at us—his audience—and demanding that we answer. When you are confronted by evil—and the movie promises that we will be—how will you respond? It is a haunting question, and not one easily shrugged aside. For it is one thing to denounce evil when it is locked in the realm of fiction; it is quite another to stand against it when it is manifested in its most terrifying and seductive forms in our actual lives.

Hell's Kitchen

Ever watch that show “Hell’s Kitchen”? It’s basically typical, sensational, reality-TV-trash. But I find myself watching it from time to time anyway. Chef Ramsey intrigues me. He’s so blisteringly harsh, and yet he has an unexpectedly sharp ethical compass. Not that he is a great model of Christian principles, but just the same, he seems to detest waste, and not just because it is bad for business. He will often make his chefs sort through garbage to remind them of just how wasteful they can be. Another thing that I admire about him is that he has a keen sense of where food comes from. Chicken is not just slabs of meat that you buy at the grocery store. It comes from a living animal that had to die so that we can consume it. On tonight’s episode, he had the chefs catch chickens… and I actually thought he was going to make them kill them to demonstrate his point. They didn’t actually have to do it; I’m guessing this was a decision made by a Fox executive to avoid animal rights activists protesting. I was actually a little disappointed. Not because I was thirsty to see chicken blood, but because I think that I too suffer from an unhealthy disconnect from the food that I eat. I take it for granted that an animal had to die so that I could eat it.

The Seeker: Movie Review

The Seeker movie review

In the vast, daunting shadow of Harry Potter, there are fleets of adolescent-driven fantasy stories out there. Unfortunately, The Seeker shuffles in near the bottom of the pack (though still noticeably above last year’s asinine flop Eragon).

In Seeker, all the ingredients for a successful fantasy flick are present; pesky but ultimately amiable siblings, a strained parental relationship, a potential love interest, and of course newly discovered magical powers which the hero (Will Stanton) must use to combat the forces of evil bent on taking over the world. But unfortunately, it’s all quite bland as a result of poor execution.

In films like this, we can forgive a good deal of sub par acting (of which Seeker has plenty). Often, we can get by with just one or two charismatic, seasoned actors who bring some flare to an inevitably child-flooded cast. Seeker had precisely zero memorable characters. Particularly disappointing was actor Christopher Eccleston (fantastic in 1998’s Elizabeth), who portrayed the dark rider, the main villain of the film. Rather than being, say, ruthless or cunning, he was bizarrely nonchalant and even-tempered, making me wonder if he missed his true calling as vacuum salesman, or possibly a librarian.

But Seeker's biggest problems stem from the directing and the script-writing. As I watched the movie, I kept wondering if director David L. Cunningham was in some kind of rush to finish the project, as he demonstrated no interest in addressing obvious questions we the audience would have. Why is Will so quickly at ease with his new powers (which include time-traveling and the ability to summon fire, amongst other things)? Why don’t his brothers react when they learn that young Will suddenly has the strength to throw them across the room? (“I guess that’s puberty!” Cue laughter from audience?) And this one bugged me too; why bribe a menacing Viking when you can simply scorch him with a fireball?

Cunningham has a knack for draining any potential suspense out of a scene. For instance, a witch working for the dark rider sends minions of cobras after the heroes; not a bad plan, right? Except that as the scene goes on, some of the heroes are literally up to their necks in snakes… which never bother to bite them, making the snakes about as frightening as the ball-pit at Chuck E. Cheese. I understand that it’s a PG movie, but that doesn’t mean you have to feed us Saturday morning cartoon mush.

Even the special effects aren’t very special, especially not for a fantasy flick. (Okay, there are some cool bits involving a smoke-like substance spreading that I found enjoyable to watch.)

On the whole, The Seeker is simply a forgettable film, and will quietly slip away into the vault of other forgettable fantasy movies from the 2000s era. Just as well; bring on the next Harry Potter movie.

I Care About Me

Banks suck, don’t they? This morning I was looking at my account, and I saw that I had been charged $160 in bogus fees, and subsequently had to spend the next hour explaining to various bank employees over the phone why the fees were bogus. But man, I fought like a hornet, and ultimately I got what I wanted.

Well now, after things have been “set right,” I’m calm, but also a little unsettled. When I found out that I had been wronged by my bank, I responded with quick fervor. No, it felt more like righteous anger. “Put me on the phone with someone who will remove these fees. Now.” I didn’t have to think it over, or plan it out. I called the bank immediately, because, well, my assets were being threatened. Obviously.

But the thing that disturbs me is that I couldn’t tell you of a time in recent memory when I acted nearly that decisively on the behalf of someone else. I certainly don’t believe I was wrong for calling the bank to correct the error; no, but the problem is that I don’t fight like that for other people.

There are perhaps a thousand reasons for this, but at the root of all of them is a simple one; I’m afraid of what it might cost me to care what happens in someone else’s life as much as I care what happens in my own. Because if you really care about someone, then you invest yourself in them. And if you invest your time, and energy in other people, then you will have less time and energy to invest in yourself.

I’m desperate to see my dreams become realities. But even more powerful than my desire to succeed is my terror of failure. Earthquakes of paranoia rumble through my mind telling me that if I am not actively pursing my goals and ambitions every single day that I will eventually wake up a fifty-year-old nobody. That if I ignore the various responsibilities of my life that I will become a train wreck.

And it’s true; people who ignore their dreams for long enough become nothing, and people who ignore their responsibilities become train wrecks. Whether or not we ever express this or admit it, we know this is true; we are creatures that require maintenance. God knows this too. Which I think is why He tells us over and over and over in Scripture not to worry, but to trust Him, and allow Him to take care of us. He actually commands us not to worry.

He also commands us to love others and to be servants. That is precisely what Jesus came here to teach us how to do; love others and serve them. He goes on to say that if we love Him we will obey Him. So as a follower of Jesus, I am left with this rather unnerving question; how do I start loving people more? How do I start serving them?

As I am writing this, something embarrassingly obvious occurs to me; there is an overpass three blocks from my front door where homeless folks hang out. (Live.) Something tells me I should start there. If I’m being honest, I really don’t want to go. Not even a little bit. It’s midnight. I want to go to bed. And yet, I’m quite sure that God is telling me to stop typing, and get off my ass.

A brief follow-up:

I picked up a guy named Dave from under the bridge. We went to McDonald’s and sat outside because the inside-seating was closed. We talked about movies a little, and both of us agreed that “Snakes on a Plane” wasn’t very realistic. Then another homeless guy named Michael showed up, so we swung through the drive-thru again. Michael was a Vietnam vet and didn’t look so great; his hands looked like he had just punched his way out of a coffin and then dug up to the surface. When I was dropping Michael off, he took hold of my shoulder and lowered his head. I think he was praying for me.

I’m not sure what to make of any of this. But I know that God is telling me to stop living in the land of hypotheticals.

I’ll try.

Hallelujah for Gospel Music and Word Games

I went to a concert tonight at Ebenezer United Methodist Church, and I will say this; there are certainly worse ways you could spend an evening. It was a night of praise and worship, with lively, joyful Gospel music that was sometimes brilliant, and other times rather straining to the ear, but always powerful genuine in giving glory to the Living God. I think I have a ceiling for the amount of joy I can take in one serving. And three hours worth was definitely pushing it for me. But thankfully I came prepared with a couple pieces of paper and some pencils, so my buddy Steve and I played word games to, uh, bring some variation to the worship.

Chaos

Church is going to fit into all of this somehow. I can say that because despite everything that’s going on, the topic of church continues to buzz around in my mind. And I actually have some peace about it, rather than say, guilt for not getting more involved. And I think that my peace comes from God, like His way of telling me not to panic that things are so busy right now. But I also know God doesn't want me to stop thinking about church either. Saying I’m going to “think about church” might sound lame, but I really don’t think it is. That’s as much as I can do right now. There is a “new people” night coming up at Summit Church. I’m planning on going to that. Until then, well… I’ll probably blog and then go to church on Sundays.

So I guess that’s why this is a journey. I’m not suddenly going to be immersed in a cozy church home. I just started a new job this week. And at night I have been working on a new novel. And somehow my time is gone. Shrug. Here’s what I know. The times when we feel overwhelmed are meant to be good too. If we’re following God anyway. Overwhelmed does not mean bad. What it should mean is "desperate for God."

A Quote From Nathan Selikoff

"I'd like to go to church where the rich and poor don't just interact on service projects, but actually meet, worship, pray, and live together." Nathan Selikoff

Ebenezer United Methodist Church

Growing up in St. Paul Minnesota, church worked a certain way. Fifteen minutes of worship, followed by thirty seconds of “greeting your neighbor,” followed by a forty-minute sermon, followed by one more song, and then the benediction. Zip, bang, done. And essentially, the churches I go to these days are the same.

But at Ebenezer United Methodist, things are different. It’s an African American church here in my neighborhood which Amy and Nathan (my sister and brother-in-law) attend. I went with them this morning after missing my new church because of daylight saving’s time.

For starters, when they do the “greet your neighbor” thing, it lasts at least ten minutes. Really. Ten minutes. And you know what? It’s awesome. I’ve only been to Amy and Nathan’s church a handful of times, but people there know who I am. And truthfully, this amazes me, though I suppose the fact that I was one of three white people in the building today may have had something to do with it.

For close to an hour, church was led by the kids. We sang various songs (with solos by kids as young as five!) and we read a couple different chapters of scripture. Ezekiel 37, about the dry bones being made whole and new, and John 11, about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. You should understand, two full, long chapters is about five times as much scripture as I hear on a typical Sunday. Maybe ten times.

The sermons at Ebenezer are different too. The pastor, an amazingly warmhearted woman named Margaret, is never in a hurry. She is merely saying the things that she believes God has given her to say.

Practical advice: “Remember to get exercise. You’ll be healthier, and it will help you work off stress. Also, get a partner, someone who will help make sure you keep it up.” (Somehow, the fact that I heard this in church was hilarious to me. In a good way.)

Politics: “People are so ignorant when they say that Barrack Obama’s middle name ‘Hussein’ is a Muslim name. It is an Arabic name. It is just as silly as saying that ‘Margaret’ is a Christian name. No, it is an English name. But I am a Christian.” (I think the implication was, if Barrack says he’s a Christian, then he’s a Christian.)

Tough Reality Check: “As Christians we are called to be servants. We serve in order to live as Christ lived.”

Self Image: “Be grateful for the way God made you, because God made you beautiful. If you are comparing yourself to someone else, you are forgetting that God made you beautiful in the way that He wanted you to be.”

And then her main sermon, which had three points: Point one; Jesus wept for Mary and Martha’s pain over Lazarus (as well as His own pain at the loss), and He still weeps for our pain and suffering today. Point two; Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, and he is still raising people from the dead today. People who are emotionally dead, spiritually dead. Physically dead too. Point three; after Jesus brought Lazarus from the dead, Jesus told Mary and Martha to take care of Lazarus’ bandages. And Jesus still includes people in the healing process today.

These are all things I heard in the sermon this morning. (I paraphrased a little.) And it was all pretty straightforward, but man, if I took everything she said to heart… I would be a different person.

Indie and Emo

Briefly, on the subject of Emo and Indie, my good buddy Steve has illuminated things a bit for me:

“Indie = short for independent (or non-mainstream) can apply to anything (movies, music, art, etc). Emo is a subset of the music category of indie (although, some emo bands make it big, thus shedding their indie status). So a term like "emo art" doesn't really make sense. That would be like saying "rap art" when you're really looking for the word urban. Hopefully that is helpful, and you can begin using the terms in more meaningful ways that make you sound less like the father of a teenager.”

Wonderfully explained. And just to clear up any confusion, I don't have kids.

Daylight Savings

Bummer. I missed church today. Daylight Saving's time. Lame.

Wait... actually I'm going to church with my sister and brother-in-law. More to come.

Relevant Magazine Party

I went to Relevant Magazine’s five year anniversary party tonight. (For those who don’t know, Relevant is a Christian magazine that covers entertainment, music, and spiritual issues.) They’re very hip, and decorate their pages in that flowy, emo-ish art style that is quite popular right now. (On a brief aside, I have recently been scolded for using the terms “Indie” and “Emo” interchangeably. Do not do this. It gravely offends both Emo people and Indie people. That being said, I still have no idea what the difference is.)

The crowd at the Relevant party was predictable fashionable, and though I am not an especially fashionable person, I nevertheless found myself thoroughly intrigued and entertained by the scene. Judging from what I saw at the party, the following things are “IN!”

-Ugg boots. (Why can’t it always be winter?)

-Thick-rimmed glasses.

-Messy hair. Rock your curls!

-The “bag” dress. (If this is not the technical term for this type of dress, it really should be, because no other description is more fitting.)

-Tight vests.

-The female mullet.

-The “am I a vampire?” look.

-Girl jeans on guys. (True, this isn’t exactly breaking news, but hey, it’s still “IN!”)

-But the biggest fashion trend of the night had to be the “half-up hoodie.” Let me explain. Tradition would say that a hoodie is to be either worn up, or, if you prefer, down. But not so fast. What if you wore the hood in such a way that it covered only the back half of your head? Ah ha! Now we’re on to something. I was fascinated by this bold fashion choice displayed by several young gentlemen around the party. Hoodies are IN! Big time. And by sheer luck, I was wearing a hoodie tonight! How awesome is that?

A few more observations:

- Baseball hats are not “IN!” but they are still “allowed,” lucky for me. (And by “allowed” I mean that no one asked me to leave for wearing one.)

-Whatever outer coat (or hoodie) you came in the door wearing, you are NOT allowed to remove it, for any reason, no matter how hot it may get inside. It is part of your outfit, and thus, it is part of you. I felt especially bad for the guy I saw wearing a fur-lined jacket. (Yes, I’m serious.)

A quick story:

The party took place in Relevant’s office building. I can sum up the décor with one word: Ikea. We were joking that the Relevant office might actually be an Ikea store. And then, while we were laughing about this, the actual owner of Relevant magazine walked over to us and said, “Yeah, it’s true; we did get pretty much everything here from Ikea.”

MUSIC

Naturally they had some very cool live bands at the party. Baron Von Bear, Seabird, and finally Pigeon John. The first two bands, Baron Von Bear and Seabird were both Indie-rock groups (or Emo…). I noticed something weird during their sets; no one was moving. (Okay, there were a few people gently bobbing their heads.) My best guess is that there was some kind of a “no moving” rule in place? If so, people were very careful to obey that rule, at least until a certain rapper named “Pigeon John” took the stage and blasted the mannequins out of their trance. Holy crap, this guy could work a crowd. Emo and Indie folks alike put their hands in the air, and waved ‘em like they just didn’t care.

What a fun night. But now it’s time for bed. It’s Saturday, and I have church tomorrow.

Middle School Talent Show

I know I said the purpose of this blog was to track my “church journey.” But I went to a middle school talent show tonight (my sister’s a teacher), and I have to write about it. (File this under intercessory prayer or something.)

There are few things in life as splendidly awkward as a middle school talent show.

Let’s briefly review:

Dancing act: The girl danced to a J-lo song. Lots of knees and elbows jabbing around… and one weird bit where she kind of rolled around on the floor… not really sure what that was about. But hey, she seemed like she was having fun.

Musical/ Singing acts: Actually not bad. I’ll lump them all together as a 6.5 out of 10, with enough technical audio problems to push the fun factor up closer to an 8. (There is something amazing about a kid standing in complete silence under withering spotlights, waiting for the sound system to work.)

Magic and Comedy act: A magic and comedy act with the emphasis on… neither. Yikes. This was honestly cringe-inducing. The “magician” spent most of her time yelling at her assistant… which I guess was a joke? It was the sort of stuff that might be funny in a movie, like Napoleon Dynamite, but in real life it was more like having your fingers slowly shaved off. “We’re making a magic cake in this hat… now mix up the ingredients, egg, water, flour… and now to turn it over on your head!” Hurray! She’s humiliated! And there wasn’t even wacky, playful music to soften the blow.

Talent Show Hosts: More like “talent-less” show hosts! Ooooh! Dang! Just kidding. They weren't terrible. A little “too cool for school,” for my taste, but I’d say at least 10% of their jokes worked out really nicely. Unfortunately I believe the rest of their jokes will leave deep emotional scars on their classmates. (Kidding!)

In conclusion, if you have the chance to see a middle school talent show, you should definitely do it.

March 6th, 2008 Update

There isn't much to update really, but I'll give it a shot.

Since that Sunday nearly two weeks ago when I felt that surge of conviction to become more involved with church... basically nothing has changed. It's kind of disturbing really. I do think about church more now, but I still haven't met anyone--yes, that's correct, anyone--from the church I'm attending now. And just to be clear, it's not that I believe that going to church is synonymous with living a God honoring life. Definitely not. But still, it's hard to get around the truth of the matter, which is that for a Christian, church matters. Like I said in the article, I have many close Christian friends whom I pray with and worship God with. So I don't believe my spiritual health has completely shriveled or anything. Honestly, I have felt quite close to the Lord these last few weeks. He is just pursuing me like crazy even when I am stubborn and stupid (which is so rare for me...). But just the same, the fact that church is on my mind so much indicates to me that God is trying to tell me something.

The hard part is, I don't really want to change my priorities. At all. Getting involved with a church would be time consuming. Isn't that a wretched, lazy attitude? Ha, ha, but it's the truth. I'd rather spend my time doing other things.

God help me.

A Beginning

Here is an article I wrote intended for a Christian Magazine. Whether or not it gets published, my hope is that God teaches me some things about church over the coming weeks and months, specifically my place within the church.

Church Observer

Every few months I ditch my regular church and drop in to visit this other slighter cooler church here in Orlando. It’s hard to describe what exactly draws me back, since I feel a bit like a Martian when I go. The thing is, the crowd at this church is very hip, with lots of young, Indie-rock type people populating the seats, though I did spot clusters of older folks here and there. (‘Older’ being anyone over forty, in this case.) And while I would like to describe myself as “hip,” I really can’t in good conscience. Still, being around people who are hip isn’t bad. It’s just that I watch them from a distance, even when they sit down right next to me.

The head pastor there is virtually impossible not to like. He’s a young, gifted speaker and he has a relaxed, conversational sense of humor. More importantly, he’s relevant and poignant. I always look forward to his sermons.

But as I sat there enjoying his poignant, relevant sermon, I was interrupted by this terribly unnerving thought; church doesn’t actually matter to me. Indie-rock church, and the church I “regularly” attend, and even the Church at large; they don’t matter to me, at least not really. It’s not that I dislike church, or even church people. I like them fine. But they’re not a significant part of my life. It’s clear to me as I write this that church has become just something I do two or three times a month, like working out, or watching American Idol.

To shed some light on myself; I love Jesus, and while I fail frequently in my pursuit of God, I genuinely care about my relationship with my Lord and Savior. So while I don’t mean to be melodramatic, as a Christian to suddenly discover this, it’s like stepping out of the shower and looking in the mirror and noticing that I have a giant, fist-sized hole in my chest. “Crap. How long has that been there?” The two are equally absurd. Because how could I not know? How could I be oblivious to my alienation from the Church, the assembly of God’s people, the gathering Body of Christ? I mean, I’m part of that body. Don’t get me wrong, most of my closest friends are Christians, people I live with, laugh and cry with, sing and pray with, and share many of life’s most important moments with. But even though I receive strength and encouragement from these people, there is still an enormous void in my life which I believe comes from my disconnection with the larger church.

It’s embarrassing to admit (and perhaps even mildly creepy), but if I’m being honest, I would say that probably 50% of my motivation for going this morning stemmed from my knowledge that Indie-rock church is attended by an alarming number of attractive women. But church isn’t some kind of virtuous pseudo-single’s bar, is it? (Rhetorical.) It’s where Christians go for fellowship, yes, but also spiritual leadership, moral guidance and conviction, and also where they can plug in to the larger Christian community around the world. And it’s missing from my life.

So what now? Because if you realize that you have a hole in your chest, you have to do something, right? So maybe I’ll go back to my old church and actually make an effort to get involved. Or maybe I’ll make a fresh start somewhere else like Indie-rock church.

I honestly don’t know. When I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever truly been “plugged in” at a church, but that has to change. It feels like the beginning of a journey, and I’m scared. Scared of committing. Scared of having to give of myself, and scared that I might not have much to give. I pray that God helps me figure some of this out, but in order for that to happen, I’ve got to do more than “drop by” on Sundays. It’s time to get involved.