painting

“…to him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” (rev2:17)

I painted this painting, this summer. I look forward to my white stone.

This weekend both my roommates were out of town for weddings in Texas and Seattle. And so I took this opportunity to paint our apartment without them knowing. Now, I know that this would cause a problem in some households but not in ours. I knew it wouldn’t matter. I was just impressed they noticed it. Erin Picasso was my accomplice who actually did most of the work while I watched the Sox kick butt. (for those of you who don’t live in Chicago, know that the Sox being in the World Series has infused this city with an unbelievable electric atmosphere.)

At about 1am I decided it was a good time to call my Ma'ma in S.Africa. We chatted as I painted with my hands free on. After that, I called my nieces and sister in England and we chatted for a long time. (Who would’ve thought it possible, 200 years ago, that you could paint a wall while talking to someone on the other side of the world. It still seems so bizarre to me.) At about 4am the talking was done, the job was done and the place looked impressive… almost as though annoying Ty and his Extreme Makeover crew had floated in. (not really) The place has a very coffee shop feel to it now- according to experts in the field. The whole project was really refreshing. It reminded me of how much I love painting.

We now have a visitor’s canvas. So anyone who stops by to say hi gets to splatter and leave his or her mark on this big canvas we have out. It’s our, hopefully creative alternative to a visitor’s book. So stop by if you’re feeling a little creative!
Again, thanks e-rock for yo skillz girl.

3 Churches

In the last week I attended three different churchs, three very different churches.

The first was “House of Hope” on the South Side (GO SOX!!). This African American church is pastored by Reverand Meeks and gathers in a 10,000 seater building! This place is huge! I figured this when I was directed to jump on a school bus which would take us from one end of the parking lot to the other. The worship was phenominal and the atmospere was electric with expectancy for God to heal, deliver and save. The presiding very sweaty Bishop T.D Jakes from Texas brought the Word that night and boy did he bring the Word! It was powerful to hear him rebuke our modern day version of comfy, secure followership. He painted a gorgeous picture of the sovereignty of God in our suffering. And encouraged all to trust. Oh, he brought it alright.

The next evening I was invited to “B'nai Ohr Beth Teflilah” congregation for their Yom Kippur celebration. The Rabbi Pastor of this Messianic congregation was amazing and was extremely passionate about what he shared. His anticipation of Jesus’ return and his contagious awe of Yahweh really impressed upon me. I loved it when he took out the Shofar (ram’s horn trumpet) and blew it till he literally went six shades of blue in the face. I actually caught myself open mouthed gawking at him as I prepared to run over and do CPR. Seriously, I was nervous. After, as we all ate a potluck dinner together I spent an hour with one of the pastors who so neatly articulated why I’m not Jewish enough in my Christianity. It really challenged me in an unexpected way and I will muse on this at a later stage.

And of course my very own church, “River City Community Church”. Yes, incase you’re wondering, this is where Jesus goes to churh on Sunday monrings. I have never expressed how much I love my church here, but I really do. Its such a mess and filled with so many unholy, broken people. It’s so young and idealistic but it’s kinda working… God shows up and peoples lives are being changed.

There are a bunch of thoughts that this week of Church overdose has produced. One thing that comes to mind is the fact that churches can have extremly dfferent styles of teaching and worship etc. And yet God uses them all to meet with His people. I think style, method, where and when mean zero to God. I know that above our own styles and methods and cultures, God calls us to be seeking Him. He calls us to be “Cross” cultural first. He wants worshippers whom will worship Him in Spirit and in Truth. He wants our hearts! For some reason He’s always after our hearts!

(And I must also say… I think we would learn a lot about God from each other if we stepped out of our safe, comfortable places and worshipped with people who don’t look like us, once in a while - a challenge perhaps. And if you ever come across a blue Rabbi, don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing. Everything is under control.)

"Go and do likewise" (a command, not a suggestion)

Fall weekends are so awesome, so unpredictable. It could be warm enough to kick it outside or cold enough to chill inside. I attended a great meeting on Sat morn (Have I ever mentioned that I love meetings. I love the possibilities, vision and weaving, creating and dreaming together.) But really, why Saturday morning! My Shabbat "don't-wake-me-before-11am-sleep-in" was totally violated. I did get to have a super hilarious brunch with the boys and went to drum circle and beat down on my Djembe in the evening with Annie, Amy and Greg. Later we burned up the dance floor with a little Salsa at Rumba, a great snazzy Latin dance spot. Okay, I didn't exactly burn up the dance floor. I wanted to break out with a little Michael Jackson but Annie would have none of it.

Sunday- It took me almost an hour to get to church because of the Chicago Marathon. Princess Zulu, came and spoke at church. Her and I got to brag a lot about Zambia as we Sunday lunched at our churches favorite restaurant, El Cid.
.....
When I first started writing this entry I was sharing my weekend. I was going to go on and tell of Hot Pot feasting in China Town and our late night Badminton.
But I stepped out to watch my BBC World Report and now I feel ill.
- 30,000 feared dead
- 64 year old, man severely beaten by 3 police offices caught on videotape.
- Mudslide in Guatemala buries 1,500 people.
Etc, etc...

I have always had an honest struggle matching the good life with global crisis.
Thinking..thinking...thinking.
I feel and see my part in it.. but I know that I can talk myself out of anything. My greatest fear is becoming one of the so many trendy "cool" who speak so eloquently of social issues and global concerns while sipping on fair trade coffee, driving my eco friendly Volkswagen and cheering on Bono but all the while really living a life of self-interest and frantic consumption.

Do we utter things we know we will never be held accountable for? Does the Spirit whisper loud enough to stop our lives to heed the command of Jesus? Go and do likewise.
Do we pray and weep for those suffering, those abused, those living in extreme poverty? Do we stop? Or do we secretly rather not want to know? I once watched one of those teen TV shows, Dawson's One Tree County or something. The disheveled superstar had just realized the world wasn't just about him and his High school. Frustrated that no one cared he pleaded his revelation to his ditsy girlfriend. Thoughtfully she responded, "I'd rather not know, ignorance really is bliss."

God is about the epic task of redemption and He wants us to participate with Him in redeeming this world. All this hints at deeper questions. Where does the good life merge with global crisis and redemption? Where does my faith ripple to, away from my life? I honestly ask myself how much of my good life is really smiled upon by God and why does He so graciously put up with my sassy, conditional and partial surrender?
I am learning that I know nothing of surrender when it comes to what God wants. He wants it ALL! Our very lives, from dollars to dreams, time to talent. He wants the very breath we breathe.

Thinking...thinking and still thinking...

simple friday

Deep sigh. Slowly I reach for my lunch with one hand and my bag with another. I throw over the strap to give myself that feeling of mission and war. nothing. I pull out the keys from the ignition and clip my iPod to my side. Silence. I pause.... thoughts, too many thoughts. Weary of them I look to the sky. A dull bluish grey day, not ideal for a Friday I tell the Lord. My opinion on what I think He should do seems to fill much of our conversation these days.

Crossing the parking lot I feel my muscles tighten and loosen with each stride. Last night’s lack of sleep clings to my ankles, slowing each step. A full parking lot makes me feel behind on the day. When I tread this way again it will be empty. Another day of catch up. In my mind I choose not to live like this. In my actions I do.

I begin to climb the small steps to the entrance of the Vanguard Center. My reflection in the big glass windows catches my eye and I watch myself slowly climb. I see my steps rise and fall. I see my frame and I try to square myself. There’s something mesmerizing about seeing yourself in motion. I see my face, my growing matte hair and then my eyes. My eyes tell a story. They will one day tell an epic, a long dramatic saga. A thick novel, that over time I hope becomes a beautiful series chronicling something other than me.

The words of a song begin to play in my mind.
“…this is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?”
Opening the big glass door I try not to answer the question. *Sigh* Today I feel simple. I want to be simple. Today I shall put off the big questions, put off the cares. Sip on coffee, eat sushi and listen to the London symphony.
Today I choose a simple Friday.

"romance is dead"

“If you love something, set it free.
If it comes back to you, it’s yours.
If it does not… hunt it down and kill it.”

I read this tonight at a party and I laughed so hard. This beautiful wannabe truth was cheesilly embroidered and framed. (Because we all know that anything embroidered and framed is clearly truth.) Well, it was the cherry on top of our intense and ridiculously funny conversation on romance.

Ah yes, it’s something special to be in a room filled with single young adults in Chicago on a Saturday night. It just oozes vibrancy and energy. And so in my mind it seemed to be the perfect place to promote my “Romance is Dead” theory. Now I know some of you reading this may be familiar with where this ideology may stem from for me. For those of you who don’t I will describe quickly and figuratively to avoid mentioning names. Basically my bid for a future home was declined due to my shortfall and I was unable to close the deal and so a more suitable buyer quickly purchased the home. I have been advised to look in other neighborhoods, but I have kindly disinclined this request and so I am left slightly homeless and perhaps jaded…but awakening to a new found glory. (For a more accurate description of where I’m at see “Remember the Tin Man”- Tracy Chapman.)

But back to the story:
With three brilliant, beautiful and wonderful ladies around me I began to unveil my new found theory. So thus the conversation went.
“Romance is dead. An illusion. Folly designed to trip us up. A distraction to misdirect our energies and attention from what is truly important”. I spoke of my newfound freedom. Free as a bird, foot loose and fancy free. I spoke of the joys of an undivided heart and the beauty of deeply caring for the larger community, whom is so often neglected when individuals find themselves consumed by romance and the pursuit. I quoted famous burned lovers and even attempted to misquote scripture to back my argument up. (Darn Naomi knows her Bible so well she caught it.)

They weren’t buying what I was selling. I broke it down into bite size pieces and even used great illustrations and acronyms. I poured them more wine. I told them I had seen the light and how I could disciple them out of the darkness of futile mushy love and take them to the solid ground of singleness in deep community. No one was biting. More wine.

Finally a hint of agreement surfaced. Dianna smiled and said, “Perhaps you’re right.” And then preceded to sneakily undermine my theory by explaining something God had shown her that day through the movie, “The Mask of Zorro”.
“What the?” I thought to myself, but let her continue.
She spoke about how beautiful it was to see Zorro and Zetta Jones heroically free the slaves together.... and side-by-side they accomplished so much and in their “along side” process they fell for each other. (She also reckons the side-by-side thing has to do with woman coming from man’s rib. She’s so smart.) She said a lot of other things that seemed to make sense as all the other girls grinned and smiled and nodded with those annoying “mmms” and “ahhhs” and I slowly realized and felt she didn’t really like my thoughts and didn’t really want to become my disciple.

It was a great conversation and reflected the lighter side of “life love and why.”

If any one out there would like a free pamphlet on my “Romance is Dead” theory, please contact me. And if anyone wants to become a disciple please contact me ASAP. No couples need apply.