So one of my friends, a writer, occasionally sends out missives with essays about topics of faith, and the latest one was about taking care of his strawberry patch and weeding and pruning and whatnot, the gist being that sin is like weeds-- it spreads fast, hides well, and only pretends to produce delicious fruit.

This reminded me not only that I should probably reply to Dave's emails one of these days, but also that our strawberry patch needed picking.

In our strawberry patch I noticed that for every one perfectly conical red supermarket-ready strawberry, there were a dozen mutant berries-- the ones that are blobular masses of berry flesh, often resembling a Star Wars character.

I, personally, think that this provides a much more trenchant spiritual analysis, since as we all know, Christians, like all people, are imperfect, like mutant berries, and often we're envious of the shiny happy supermarket berries we think surround us, like the family in the other pew that you always run into at the grocery store when they're wearing chinos and perfect hair and you're in your pajamas buying zucchini and KY Jelly.

But me? I prefer the mutant berries, perhaps because I hold in my heart an abiding love for imperfection and uniqueness, or perhaps because I'm a big Star Wars nerd and can decide whether one looks more like Greedo or Admiral Ackbar before I gleefully bite it in half.

So I wrote a song!

[we all know the tune for this one]

Jesus loves the mutant ber-ries
All the weirdoes of the world
Big and lumpy,
short and squat,
Resembles Jabba the Hutt--
Jesus loves the mutant berries of the world!


But I couldn't stop there. It needed a second verse!

Delving deeper into my spiritual analysis of gardening, and opting to skip over the question of what the patch of ants I stuck my hand in chasing a berry signified, I wondered what the symbolic value of the rotten, bug-eaten berries was. Given that in this metaphor I was, theoretically, the Christ figure, and I was throwing the reject berries against the fence so they would make interesting splat shapes, I decided maybe a second verse about how Jesus likes to make damaged berries explode wasn't the best idea, and I wasn't sure if I could make it rhyme, either. So I stuck a (2x) on the end of the song and called it a day.

And this, kids, is why God didn't send me to seminary.

Labels: etc, religion

Why hello there, Titration!

We are taught to read scripture in community so things don't get "off" (you know crazy talk), but... What do you do when a community reaches a stalemate?

Depends on the stalemate. If it's a matter of nobody being willing to cross the Rubicon in either direction and change their mind or loyalty to their pet interpretation, well, you're shit outta luck, but usually it's possible to find common ground to build on. Even when a group of people has opposite opinions about any given passage or interpretation, there's usually some common principle at work-- that Scripture is important and humans are fallible, if nothing else. Any interpretation is going to be "through a glass darkly" anyway, so it behooves Christians to spend more time building on the principles they do agree on than fighting pissing matches over the territory they differ on.

I get why the Church (universal) changes so slowly and why some things never change. The church is to be more of a thermostat and less of a thermometer. But then how does change in such an institution happen?

High doses of radiation. With any luck, the Church will develop superpowers and decide that with great power comes great responsibility. Of course, Uncle Ben might have to get shot before that happens.

What would God think if I got married (in a state/country that has same sex marriage)? And how would I go about that in a godly way?

For my part, I think God cares very little about the demographic classification of the person I marry, or whether it's officially stamped and approved; I'm fond of saying that when I meet the right woman, I'll call it a marriage whether the state does or not.

Godly marriage, to my mind, is built on the same foundation as any other relationship-- treat your spouse as you would any other human made in the image of God, take care of them as you would want to be cared for, etc. With marriage, in particular, you take an extra level obligation on yourself with regards to that person because the bond you have with them is that important to you. In that sense, be aware of the risks and obligations of marriage that almost always precede the rewards, and be willing to live up to them.

Is it ok if I lead chapel? I used to (like I did last year). The reason I worry it wouldn't be is because if people knew they might not want me to. But j said that's dumb. I did it before and nothing has changed about me.

Just don't stand near any metal poles during a thunderstorm, is all I'm sayin.' It'd be a shame if you were smited or anything during the service. Not that I'm implying anything, but, you know, accidental judgments on the unholy happen.

I asked my parents to tell me what questions they have so I can think about them before hand. They said they don't have questions they want to hear my story. What do I tell? What details do I leave out or in? What's the best way to tell such a story?

Start at the beginning, tell it simply and honestly, leave out the parts where they might interpret it as being anyone's "fault" (like "Remember when you didn't buy me the Easy-Bake Oven for my birthday?...") and being parents, they probably don't need any gory sexual details beyond "I realized I felt the same way about girls that my friends seemed to feel about boys."

After that, they probably will have questions. Know the statistics and the ideas to counter the wrong ones they probably have, as we all do. Don't let them blame anyone, especially themselves, for "what went wrong," since as we all know it's not a matter of anything going "wrong" to begin with.

What do I actually think? (Verses what all these very different voices from books and really different people think.)

What, hasn't the Homosexual Agenda sent you your marching orders yet? Put me down as a reference when you fill out the application, I could use a toaster oven.

Am I being a bad example because I am displaying all of my wrestling with faith and sexuality on this blog?

How do I explain what's going on in me to such divergent groups: to my family, to my church friends, to people who think christianity is of no use... with integrity? I sometimes hope my blog helps me name "what is" no matter who is reading it. To practice as much authenticity as I can muster. Am I being a bad example of faith because of my doubt?

Nope. Now, if you'd done what I did (*ahem* still do occasionally *cough* ) and sworn a whole lot and named names and basically been a whiny teenage angstbucket in the process... then we'd have something to talk about.

My role models, for what it's worth, have always been the people who have problems and deal with them in an honest, loving, and sacrificial way when necessary, instead of dealing with them with denial or destruction. The people who apparently don't have problems or doubts are fairly useless, since what the hell are you going to learn from them except that being problem- and doubt-free is probably pretty cozy?

Why am I a christian? (I've been asking this to everyone lately... Why are you a christian?) Am I being too selfish and myopic in this season of my life? What do I think of sin now? I think it's unhealthy to say "I should" But are there shoulds?
What does God want me to know about all this?

Woman, are you trying to break my blog?

What did my dream about my grandfathers wood cabinet filled with cross carvings "up for sale" mean?

You have a troubled relationship with your mother, prosperity will seek you out in the future, and you're sexually repressed. Your lotto numbers are 42-63-09-15.

Labels: blog, etc, friends, religion

I've been tagged! In turn, I tag (if y'all do this sort of thing) Menjaran, Peterson and Feverdog.

1. What were you doing ten years ago?

1997 - I was an acne-riddled seventh-grader, in a fairly large and anonymous middle school, and hating every minute of it-- I lost track of most of my friends, my grades were dropping, and I was being teased for being smart, ugly, and reading "too much."

My mom had recently given birth to my youngest sister Aelgifu, who is now five feet tall-- up to my chin-- and wears a bigger shoe size than I do. How time does pass.


2. What were you doing one year ago?

Finishing my senior year of college, wracking my nerves about asking Iris out on a date, and discovering a serious love of painting.


3. What are five snacks you enjoy?

Pepperjack cheese, tortilla chips and queso, air-popped popcorn with real melted butter (if nothing else, Homestyle Pop-Secret will do), the White Rabbit milk candy Bridget got me from China, and lima beans. Yes, lima beans.


4. What are five songs you know the lyrics to?

I usually play a new CD until I can sing the whole thing, at which point I get sick of it and listen to something else.


5. Five Things You Would Do If You Were A Millionaire

1. grad school
2. stay home and paint for a year
3. donate to every charity I've ever wanted to donate to
4. feed my savings account a bit / start some decent investments
5. put some away for my youngest sister's college tuition


6. Five Bad Habits

1. cuticle-picking (Nail-biting serves a purpose, since I keep them short anyway.)
2. dropping strings and threads and bits of craft material on my floor instead of throwing them away
3. drinking Coke way too near the keyboard
4. procrastinating
5. discouraging myself


7. Five Things You Like To Do

1. read: long, dense, cheesy paperback novels, constantly and often simultaneously
2. craft: jewelry, chainmail, rugs, reconstructed clothes, you name it. I have a pathological need to keep my hands busy. I hope to hell I never get arthritis.
3. art: illustration, fine, and comics. I draw a lot of cute girls in striped socks when I have nothing else I can think of, and I have a particular fondness for watercolors and oils.
4. sleep: late.
5. Internet: it's a verb if I say it is, dammit.


8. Five Things You Would Never Wear

1. Pink, orange, and yellow. Pink on principle, and orange or yellow because they make me look like I have liver disease.
2. Poofy things. I hate poof with an undying passion.
3. Stiletto heels. I like my ankles unbroken and my dignity intact.
4. Scratchy or itchy things. Cheap wool and crappy lace underwear would come to mind here.
5. Short skirts. Not that I ever wear skirts or dresses anyway, but I'm not wholly opposed to wearing them on special occasions. But if I have to sit down in a special way in order to avoid ripping the material or flashing the room, it's not an option.


9. Five Favorite Toys

Computer, fan brush, my Seal of Approval keychain, bubbles, and Silly Putty.


10. Five Things You Hate To Do

Pose for photographs, wake up early, wash dishes, clean up animal poo and/or vomit, and make small talk with strangers.

Labels: blog, etc

Ah yes, it's that time of... life... where the bright-eyed young college graduate slowly begins to realize that despite what her parents and teachers endeavoured to convince her, in the eyes of employers everywhere, she is not a special little snowflake.

Currently my days are filled with a smattering of freelance projects, crafty pursuits (such as using up my bead stash in an effort to make shiny objects for friends), sleeping all day, sending off applications to various employers in Broceliande and Lemuria, drinking a lot of caffeine, and hanging out with Astrid commiserating about Terabil's massive amount of suckage. Not terribly productive, but enough to keep myself from feeling guilty about not being productive.

I'm considering applying for an internship at Relevant Media Group, given that I am, it seems, a "spiritually focused twentysomething." I'm not sure if I should, though, given that besides being a spiritual twentysomething I'm also a foulmouthed liberal feminist lesbian firebrand-of-sorts, and the Relevant target audience seems to be... not so much. If I recall correctly, once upon a time when they first started out and I read them regularly, their "special gay articles" could pretty much be summed up as "Poor pitiful homosexuals. Let's feel sorry for them instead of beating them with lead pipes! (P.S. God hates gay sex)."

If I was feeling snarky, I would call that "limpwristed." I also massively enjoy the assumption that the queers haven't already infiltrated their compound of evangelical hipsterdom. Trust me, Relevant kids-- "they" are "us."

So I'm sending off my new online portfolio to anyone looking for entry-level graphic design lackeys and hoping someone, somewhere, is arrested by my finesse in cover letter writing. And if anyone who reads this needs an extremely eager graphic design / illustration / making-things-pretty-in-Adobe CS2 lackey or knows someone who does, preferably somewhere in the South, let me know.

Labels: art, etc