I just finished reading "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Yes, it was an Oprah book of the month. I don't usually read her recommended books because of the language and content. But this one was an autobiography so I thought I would give it go. The book made me think and Larry and I did have some interesting discussions. (Another post for another day) One thing it made me think about was language and how it is used. The book is full of crass words. You name it and it is in there. After a while my mind would just skip over the f-word like it was a place holder. It was used as a noun, adjective, verb, exclamation. You get the idea.
So what makes a bad word a bad word? Is it how we use the word in our culture? Is it the value we place on a word? When I taught Third grade one of my students asked if Indians (Native Americans) had swear words. I told him I didn't know, but most cultures do have what we would call swear words. One of the other kids piped up with his version of an Indian swear word. Something like shokypocky. It made me laugh at the time.
Our Pastor's kid had her own version of a bad word when she was a rebel toddler. She made up her own anger bad word. Whenever she was mad at her mom she would use it. Sounds funny and we might be tempted to laugh at our kid if they did that, but Pastor's wife was wise to see the motivation behind the language and didn't allow her to use her word.
Take the word suck. Many of us would consider "That sucks" to be crass and we wouldn't say it. But many high school kids today don't even know the connotation of that phrase. So is it still a bad word? Will it be crass in 20 years? Or will it be the same as "that stinks"?
My kids don't really know what bad words are. We have never pointed them out. (I am not talking about using God's name in vain here.) Yesterday afternoon while we were watching a movie on a cable channel one of the movie commentators slipped in the a-word. The girls didn't even notice. Larry and I were a bit surprised. It was 4 o clock in the afternoon. We didn't say anything about it. We just ignored it. Sometimes Claire, who listens carefully and picks up vocabulary easily, will ask what a bad word means. We tell her it is a crass way to say what you really mean.
I know what the Bible tells me about my language. It mirrors what is in my heart. And maybe I am not using socially unacceptable words, but when I get angry what comes out of my mouth? Is it acceptable to God?
Monday, November 28, 2005
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Old Friends, New Memories
We had a great time visiting with Scott and Cheryl Donnelly this past Friday. It's been a long time since we've had a chance to sit and talk with them. We talked about old times, what's going on now and exchanged ministry stories and tips. Our kids loved having additional audience members for their nightly shows!
It was good to see you guys. I hope we can do it again sometime in the near future.
It was good to see you guys. I hope we can do it again sometime in the near future.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Decomposition
I read an interesting article that I thought was worth discussing. I apologize for the long post, but check this out and let us know what you think.
Let Us Decompose
by Mike Duran
G.K. Chesterton said, “Art is the signature of man.” Some believe men rose from monkeys. But let the record show, monkeys have no interest in sketching men. It is precisely our urge to sketch monkeys, which separates us from them. As the apologist wrote, if man was “an ordinary product of biological growth, like any other beast or bird, then it is all the more extraordinary that he was not in the least like any other beast or bird.” When ancient man first dipped his thumb into the blood of berries and scraped that red swath across cool granite, he distanced himself from elks and orangutans.
Human history is one of composition. Of course, we’ve come a long way from dancing reindeer and stick men on blackened cave walls. Today, the cave walls are digital and the stick men dance in cyberspace. But whether it’s Mozart or 50 Cent, Rembrandt or Warhol, Aesop or Spielberg, the urge to compose—to create new beings and worlds, new stories and songs—is unique to us. We write, paint, carve and mold; we sit hunched over parchments and tape recorders, laptops and canvas, searching for the right word, the right sound, the right image, yearning to rise above our earthly origins and distance ourselves from elks and orangutans.
Yet the creative spark reveals more about us than just our dissimilarity to animals. In a way, all composition is really decomposition. The word “decompose” simply means “to separate into components or basic elements.” It is to categorize, quantify, sort and stack; it is to break something down to its lowest common denominator.
In reality, we never really create anything: we reassemble existing parts, cut and paste objects and ideas from the known world, reshuffle the deck. Even abstracts are just extracts of the ordinary. I mean, when was the last time a new primary color was invented or a missing musical note discovered? Genuine originality, it’s been said, is rare. I’d venture to say, it’s extinct, dead with the first chisel strike or quill stroke. “There’s nothing new under the sun,” King Solomon said, without crediting his source. Maybe this is why plotlines follow the same basic patterns. Prime time TV is a constant karmic retread of new faces trapped in the same tired tales. Even Hollywood, the summit of artistic inclination, cannot rise above the remake. Musicians are judged by who they sound like (part Bob, Beck and Bruce), actors by who they look like (she’s got Jessica’s hair, Nicole’s eyes and Angelina’s lips) and books by how they read (think Harry Potter with a dash of Steele). Even fantasy worlds look like ours and superheroes like us—with a little tweaking. All our creations are re-creations, omelettes whipped up from yesterday’s leftovers.
For all our ingenuity and technical advances, no matter how many edits and remakes, we cannot rise above the Story Board. We are as fixed to its laws as Frodo is to Middle Earth. We stitch and sketch, dream up and hammer out, but we cannot transcend.
“In the beginning, God created ...” He composed. He assembled parts ex nihilo, “out of nothing.” He spread out the canvas and drew His thumb across the celestial swath. We live in that Composition, on that Canvas; we are the parts He assembled. Herein lies our glory and our deficiency.
We create because we are like Him, but we cannot create like Him.
Unlike God, we cannot make something from nothing. Everything we shape, form, order and arrange requires something else. Like a celluloid hero, the laws of the medium bind us. Poets need language and its laws, for without it their craft is made moot. Some musical forms may push the boundaries, but sour notes are not tolerable—even by the most sophisticated. Architecture can be innovative, as long as the foundation is solid. Characters can be fresh, as long as they are believable. Art must correspond to Reality—in fact, it cannot do anything but that.
If art is the signature of man, as Chesterton suggested, then man is the signature of God. And every film, song, poem or novel, no matter how tired or twisted, is an echo of His original act. So let us borrow, bleed and recast the old, tell the Tale a thousand times over. Let us crush the berries, raise the chisel and strike up the band, for tonight we decompose.
This Article is from RelevantMagazine.com.
Let Us Decompose
by Mike Duran
G.K. Chesterton said, “Art is the signature of man.” Some believe men rose from monkeys. But let the record show, monkeys have no interest in sketching men. It is precisely our urge to sketch monkeys, which separates us from them. As the apologist wrote, if man was “an ordinary product of biological growth, like any other beast or bird, then it is all the more extraordinary that he was not in the least like any other beast or bird.” When ancient man first dipped his thumb into the blood of berries and scraped that red swath across cool granite, he distanced himself from elks and orangutans.
Human history is one of composition. Of course, we’ve come a long way from dancing reindeer and stick men on blackened cave walls. Today, the cave walls are digital and the stick men dance in cyberspace. But whether it’s Mozart or 50 Cent, Rembrandt or Warhol, Aesop or Spielberg, the urge to compose—to create new beings and worlds, new stories and songs—is unique to us. We write, paint, carve and mold; we sit hunched over parchments and tape recorders, laptops and canvas, searching for the right word, the right sound, the right image, yearning to rise above our earthly origins and distance ourselves from elks and orangutans.
Yet the creative spark reveals more about us than just our dissimilarity to animals. In a way, all composition is really decomposition. The word “decompose” simply means “to separate into components or basic elements.” It is to categorize, quantify, sort and stack; it is to break something down to its lowest common denominator.
In reality, we never really create anything: we reassemble existing parts, cut and paste objects and ideas from the known world, reshuffle the deck. Even abstracts are just extracts of the ordinary. I mean, when was the last time a new primary color was invented or a missing musical note discovered? Genuine originality, it’s been said, is rare. I’d venture to say, it’s extinct, dead with the first chisel strike or quill stroke. “There’s nothing new under the sun,” King Solomon said, without crediting his source. Maybe this is why plotlines follow the same basic patterns. Prime time TV is a constant karmic retread of new faces trapped in the same tired tales. Even Hollywood, the summit of artistic inclination, cannot rise above the remake. Musicians are judged by who they sound like (part Bob, Beck and Bruce), actors by who they look like (she’s got Jessica’s hair, Nicole’s eyes and Angelina’s lips) and books by how they read (think Harry Potter with a dash of Steele). Even fantasy worlds look like ours and superheroes like us—with a little tweaking. All our creations are re-creations, omelettes whipped up from yesterday’s leftovers.
For all our ingenuity and technical advances, no matter how many edits and remakes, we cannot rise above the Story Board. We are as fixed to its laws as Frodo is to Middle Earth. We stitch and sketch, dream up and hammer out, but we cannot transcend.
“In the beginning, God created ...” He composed. He assembled parts ex nihilo, “out of nothing.” He spread out the canvas and drew His thumb across the celestial swath. We live in that Composition, on that Canvas; we are the parts He assembled. Herein lies our glory and our deficiency.
We create because we are like Him, but we cannot create like Him.
Unlike God, we cannot make something from nothing. Everything we shape, form, order and arrange requires something else. Like a celluloid hero, the laws of the medium bind us. Poets need language and its laws, for without it their craft is made moot. Some musical forms may push the boundaries, but sour notes are not tolerable—even by the most sophisticated. Architecture can be innovative, as long as the foundation is solid. Characters can be fresh, as long as they are believable. Art must correspond to Reality—in fact, it cannot do anything but that.
If art is the signature of man, as Chesterton suggested, then man is the signature of God. And every film, song, poem or novel, no matter how tired or twisted, is an echo of His original act. So let us borrow, bleed and recast the old, tell the Tale a thousand times over. Let us crush the berries, raise the chisel and strike up the band, for tonight we decompose.
This Article is from RelevantMagazine.com.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
The Alma Mater
My alma mater is 40 years old this year. They are having a special program and they asked some graduates to write testimonies of what the school has meant to them. I was one of the "lucky" ones asked. I wrote this sappy tribute.
Imagine my delight and surprise last week when my 5 year old came home from school singing "Hail to thee, O Inter-City!" at the top of her lungs. I had to suppress my giggles when she changes the second line to "Gold and pretty proudly stand." I can remember singing that song at Graduations and services. That one line made me think of all that Inter-City has meant in my family's life.
My parents were saved when I was in first grade attending a public school. They in their wisdom saw a need to send my brother and I to a school where we could learn the Word of God, not just is Bible class, but in all subjects. My teachers were examples of Godly men and women who understood the importance of service and sacrifice to further God's mission. I think of Mrs. Cindy Stratford, Mr .Don Bowman, Mrs. Carla Mungons and Miss Karen Flora and the influence they had on my future as a teacher and mother.
The greatest blessing I received from Inter-City was meeting my future husband there. His life was dramatically changed because of the ministry and time teachers spent with him.
After college I came back to Inter-City to teach for 4 1/2 years. My last class is graduating this year. And although they are almost grown men and women now, I still picture them as those little third graders in room 204. My daughter now attends Kindergarten at Inter-City and, Lord willing, one day all of my daughters will graduate and carry on the legacy.
I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to attend Inter-City Baptist Schools . And as the school song says I have been truly "blessed by God beyond all measure."
Here's a couple of old pictures from our graduation. Be careful of your comments, I have lots of old pictures in my basement.
Imagine my delight and surprise last week when my 5 year old came home from school singing "Hail to thee, O Inter-City!" at the top of her lungs. I had to suppress my giggles when she changes the second line to "Gold and pretty proudly stand." I can remember singing that song at Graduations and services. That one line made me think of all that Inter-City has meant in my family's life.
My parents were saved when I was in first grade attending a public school. They in their wisdom saw a need to send my brother and I to a school where we could learn the Word of God, not just is Bible class, but in all subjects. My teachers were examples of Godly men and women who understood the importance of service and sacrifice to further God's mission. I think of Mrs. Cindy Stratford, Mr .Don Bowman, Mrs. Carla Mungons and Miss Karen Flora and the influence they had on my future as a teacher and mother.
The greatest blessing I received from Inter-City was meeting my future husband there. His life was dramatically changed because of the ministry and time teachers spent with him.
After college I came back to Inter-City to teach for 4 1/2 years. My last class is graduating this year. And although they are almost grown men and women now, I still picture them as those little third graders in room 204. My daughter now attends Kindergarten at Inter-City and, Lord willing, one day all of my daughters will graduate and carry on the legacy.
I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to attend Inter-City Baptist Schools . And as the school song says I have been truly "blessed by God beyond all measure."
Here's a couple of old pictures from our graduation. Be careful of your comments, I have lots of old pictures in my basement.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
You Have The Right To Remain...Vocal!
We have the privilege of having a great mix of teens in our Youth Group. Some go to local public schools, some to a local Christian School. They each bring unique experiences and opportunities to our group.
More than a few times I've heard from the teens in our group that go to public schools about subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) instances of school officials instructing students to refrain from certain religious expressions. For example, a student was actually instructed that she is not allowed to bring a Bible to school. Hopefully the teaching giving these instructions was simply misinformed about the law in this area. I think that is probably the case in many instances. However, the reason is really not relevant. The bottom line is that students cannot rely on the school officials to protect their rights in this area.
The only way for you to know your free speech and expression of religion rights in your school is to check into it for yourself. You can find a helpful article here. Take a look and see if your rights are being infringed upon. Contrary to what you might be hearing from your school, you have the right to remain vocal!
More than a few times I've heard from the teens in our group that go to public schools about subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) instances of school officials instructing students to refrain from certain religious expressions. For example, a student was actually instructed that she is not allowed to bring a Bible to school. Hopefully the teaching giving these instructions was simply misinformed about the law in this area. I think that is probably the case in many instances. However, the reason is really not relevant. The bottom line is that students cannot rely on the school officials to protect their rights in this area.
The only way for you to know your free speech and expression of religion rights in your school is to check into it for yourself. You can find a helpful article here. Take a look and see if your rights are being infringed upon. Contrary to what you might be hearing from your school, you have the right to remain vocal!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Blessed Be Your Name
We learned a new song in church recently. It is based on what Job says after loosing everything he had. It says:
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me,
When the world’s all as it should be
Blessed be Your name,
And blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering,
Though there’s pain in the offering,
Blessed be Your name.
Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise,
When the darkness closes in
Lord still I will say,
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your glorious name.
I frequently think about my life and am overwhelmed with all that God has blessed me. I love my life. I'm actually tempted to be so taken with the gifts God has given me that I get distracted from the God that gave them.
That's why I admire Job's example. He lost it all. When it all was striped away, his love for and trust in the God that gave it all remained and was his anchor. It seems like every day I have to remind myself to loosen my grip on the blessings and cling more closely to the blesser. They might be gone in an instant, but He will always be there.
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me,
When the world’s all as it should be
Blessed be Your name,
And blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering,
Though there’s pain in the offering,
Blessed be Your name.
Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise,
When the darkness closes in
Lord still I will say,
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your glorious name.
I frequently think about my life and am overwhelmed with all that God has blessed me. I love my life. I'm actually tempted to be so taken with the gifts God has given me that I get distracted from the God that gave them.
That's why I admire Job's example. He lost it all. When it all was striped away, his love for and trust in the God that gave it all remained and was his anchor. It seems like every day I have to remind myself to loosen my grip on the blessings and cling more closely to the blesser. They might be gone in an instant, but He will always be there.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Definitely a East Coast Girl
My friend Scott of the Ramblin'Scotzman is on a cross country trip right now. (Insert Jealous look here) His trip inspired me to post a map of all the states I have been too. I've only crossed the Mississippi to visit my Brother. And I'm not sure if I can count Minnesota because I just had a layover there. Someday I would like to hit all 50. Maybe when the gas prices go down.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Happy Family
When our latest batch of videos from Blockbuster Online showed up Thursday, there was something for everyone. We all wanted to run to the mailbox to get our goodies.
For the children, the latest installment of Maya & Miguel. Mama was excited to get Martha's Classic Thanksgiving and for Daddy, the final installment in the Star Wars Saga...the just released Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith!
Yes, it doesn't take much to get us excited.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
The Evil Coffee Empire
I have a friend who frequently refers to Starbucks as "The Evil Coffee Empire" in his blog. I've never traced his use of that name back to find out exactly what he means by it and I have never asked him. I just think it's funny. I read two articles recently that made me think of him and that I thought were worth sharing. You can read them here and here.
So here's the question: Do you buy coffee from someone who openly supports such an unbiblical agenda or not? Frankly, I'm not big on boycotts and I think there are much more important things to be doing to support my biblical mission than finding companies to NOT do business with. I guess I tend to take the approach that says, "Stay out of my face and I'll stay out of yours." However, since Starbucks is getting loud about thier positions on some hot button issues, I'm wondering if it is not a stretch to voice my opinion back with my money. What do you think?
As I think about it, the more pressing question is "What posesses any of us to pay four bucks for a cup of coffee anyway?" :-)
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Chowda Anyone?
This is what we ate for lunch today. I found a recipe for Corn Chowder on the web and changed it to my liking. All the bowls were empty and kisses were given all around. I'll definitely make this again.
Julie's Corn Chowda (You have to say it like a New Englander.)
1/2 pound bacon diced (I use lower sodium)
2 small onions finely chopped
1/2 butter or margarine
1/2 cup flour
4 cups potatoes peeled, boiled and cubed (I use Yukon Gold)
2 cups reserved potato water
4 cups milk (I use 1/2%)
1 lb. frozen corn
salt
Boil Potatoes for 15-20 minutes. While potatoes are boiling cook bacon in a large stock pot until crispy. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and drain. Cook onion in bacon grease and butter until translucent. Add flour and mix well. It will be pasty. Gradually add milk stirring continually. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes or until thick. Add potato water and corn. Heat through. Add potatoes. Season with salt according to your taste. I use about 1 1/2 teaspoons. Garnish with bacon.
Now I must go and clean those pots!
Julie's Corn Chowda (You have to say it like a New Englander.)
1/2 pound bacon diced (I use lower sodium)
2 small onions finely chopped
1/2 butter or margarine
1/2 cup flour
4 cups potatoes peeled, boiled and cubed (I use Yukon Gold)
2 cups reserved potato water
4 cups milk (I use 1/2%)
1 lb. frozen corn
salt
Boil Potatoes for 15-20 minutes. While potatoes are boiling cook bacon in a large stock pot until crispy. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and drain. Cook onion in bacon grease and butter until translucent. Add flour and mix well. It will be pasty. Gradually add milk stirring continually. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes or until thick. Add potato water and corn. Heat through. Add potatoes. Season with salt according to your taste. I use about 1 1/2 teaspoons. Garnish with bacon.
Now I must go and clean those pots!
On Fire!
Every year I am amazed to watch our green tree turn this amazing bright red. When we moved to this house we were happy to have one of the few trees on the block in our front yard. I have always loved fall and was thrilled when fall came that first year and our tree turned brillant red. All the other trees in the neighborhood pale in comparison.
Trick or Treat
Ahh.. Halloween the time of year when Children dress up and parents eat too much candy.
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