Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder

I Am Resolved

2011-03-08T13:00:00.000-05:00

I am resolved to not interrupt the silence, unless I can improve it.

But I am also resolved to never stop trying to improve the silence.

Haters Gonna Hate, Lovers Gotta Love

2011-03-03T14:00:00.002-05:00

"I know many young evangelicals barely have any stomach for controversy, let alone strong words about a serious topic. But if there is no way to be simultaneously bold and humble; if there is no way to be a gentle, caring person while still speaking in clear tones about hurtful error; if there is no way to correct those who oppose sound doctrine without being a moral monster; if there’s no way to love truth and grace at the same time, then there’s no way to be a biblical Christian. Judgmentalism is a sin and Calvinists can be jerks. But not every judgment is sinful and not every truth is cruel just because Reformed people teach it."
--Kevin DeYoung

In the context of my last post, I have found myself characterized by that first sentence: I barely have a stomach for controversy. While I will regularly debate things of theological weight, I find myself cringing and the helping hand I am lending to conflict. And there is a simple reason for my disdain: conflict sucks.

Conflict sucks even worse among Christians, because we are supposed to exemplify love (1 John 4). And this theological argumentative conflict does not appear to be helping that exemplification in any way. It literally pains me to hear the rough equivalent of theological hate-speech being tossed in either direction.

Yet, as DeYoung points out, there must be way to do both. The example of Christ clearly demonstrated both: from caring for the widow and orphan, or even those without faith, to his explicit and almost virulent statements toward/about the Pharisees. Jesus valued truth as much as he valued love, because they complement each other.

In my last post you can easily state Furtick is hating on haters, therefore becoming hypocritical. But I understand where he is coming from. There are people (and I think these are the types of people he is talking about) who carelessly and lovelessly criticize anyone in or out of their or the church who they decide deserves it. They are not demonstrating love. Likewise, those people who are infinitely emphasizing love and attempting to prevent conflict simply for the sake of peace are not demonstrating truth.

It comes down to a simple point: your theology. I do not mean Reformed or Liberal, Catholic or Protestant, Pre or Post Millenialist, but rather the way you view God and the way in which he has acted toward humans. If God is not a sovereign, just King, then your life could demonstrate mercy but without need, for why show mercy if there is nothing to be save from? Contrarily, if God is only a sovereign, just King with only a sliver enough of grace to save you, then your life could become focused on those who escaped that sliver.

However, if God is both sovereign and just, but slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (as he identifies himself: Exodus 34:5-7) then we will find ourselves able (though not without difficulty) to live lives following Christ's example, fulfilling both love and truth.

Sippin' On Dat Hater-ade

2011-03-01T11:00:00.000-05:00

When I first watched this video, my first thought was inclined generally toward the ways in which Furtick's argument seemed a little off base, and the small miscalculations he had made through the course of what he was saying. Then I realized that I was who he was talking about. I am a hater.

I don't know when exactly this happened, probably sometime around the time of my birth (you know, original sin, total depravity and all that). The thing about being a hater is, hate blinds you. Not only does it blind you to the object of your hate, but it blinds you to your own condition, it keeps you from grasping the sinfulness and the effects of your hate. Hate is subtle in your own heart but blatant in the face of others.

So when I watch someone call out haters, and make the implicit connection to what they are saying to who I am, my hate kicks in. Now, this is not to say that I agree with everything Furtick has to say, but I at least think he has a point: as someone who is Reformed, proudly and adamantly so, I have a grave tendency to cast down small judgments on others from my throne of theological supremacy. And that is not right.

Good theology, orthodoxy, is important. Yet, equally important, is love. When Christ came into the world, he did it to do two things: share the love of God, and provide a correct theology. He cared for, healed, and helped people, demonstrating the mercy of God on earth. But he also told them what was up. Forcefully.

Christ came from a position of infinitely more correct theology--you could argue that he was the only person on earth who had a completely 100% correct view of God. And yet, while he called out those whose views were wrong and destructive, he simultaneously showed grace and mercy. I think I could do with a little following of his example.

Winter Hymn

2011-02-17T16:00:00.001-05:00

It is a damn cold night,
But these nights are clear.

The frigid wind has a way
Of cutting down to bone
And probing deeper.

These are the evenings of my discontent.

I am more honest in the cold:
Winter offers the formality
Of doctor-patient confidence,
When the weather reminds me
That death is not so foreign.

This is not the end, but
Death is piling on dying.

On cold, hard nights like this
I hear something written on my heart.
It whispers: “I see a new day coming,”
and:
“There is beauty in cold, desolate places.”

I'm Talking About Love

2011-02-15T16:00:00.002-05:00

I have a problem. I talk about my fiancée all the time. At least three conversations per day include a phrase such has "Well, my fiancée was telling me..." or "Elizabeth and I were talking, and..." or "Elizabeth said the other day..." or something similar. I mean, I do talk to her every night, for at least an hour, in addition to multiple texts and sometimes calls throughout the day. It also could be the distance: being 412 miles away from each other, I want to make her a part of my everyday life, and talking about her is just one way to do it.

I think the real culprit, though, is love. I love my fiancée (You say: "Well I'd hope so."), and as we are 151 days away from being joined in holy matrimony, she is becoming an ever increasing part of who I am. So in one sense, I am not talking about her more, but I am compensating for her growing influence in my life.

Now you may be wondering why this is a problem. Well, it kind of isn't. As I already mentioned, I love my fiancée, and highly enjoy talking to and about her. The problem is, because my love for her and the growing importance she has in my life constitutes more talking about her, that there is a noticeable absence of such talk about God.

People who regularly talk to me may notice I engage in theological conversation a fair amount, readily repeating the latest blog or thought from Piper, Driscoll, etc., or how I don't agree with ----'s theology, or ----'s interpretation of the Bible, but how often do you hear me say "Well, God was telling me..." or "I was praying, and..." or "I was reading God's Word the other day and it said..."? What this says to me is that God does not have a growing influence in my life--that I do not love him--at least not to what would be a good degree.

So talking about Elizabeth is not the problem, but not talking about God is. What's comforting, though, is that in both cases, the amount of talking I do about the other person does not affect how much they love me. Both Elizabeth and God, though I deserve neither, will love and pursue me no matter the quantity nor quality of what I say about them. That is a blessing.

Somedoby to Love, Part 2

2011-02-10T13:30:00.005-05:00

Read Part 1 Here

The one beauty of a long distance relationship is that it stands or falls on communication. If it survives, then you are able to communicate very well. If it doesn’t, well, you apparently can’t. Still, day after day it begins to wear on you, having someone so dear so very far away. Sometimes, I doubted the validity of it all. Other times, it has been more real to me than my next breath. I began to make good on my intention to love her. I did the sweet boyfriend things: texted her every night after she goes to bed, so she had a message waiting for her when she woke up; went to visit her at least once a month; and, naturally, gave her flowers every time I visited, often accompanied by dark chocolate (her favorite).

I began to notice, the more affectionate I grew toward Elizabeth, the more affection I had, the more affection I wanted to give, and the more affection I wanted to see all people give each other. I also began to see manners of displaying that affection more and more. Even in Rubik’s cubes. So I sent her a picture one morning, claiming the artistic validity of a heart comprised of a Rubik’s cube:

“We're walkin' into the fields.
We're walkin into the forest.
The moon is before us.
Up above
We're holdin' hands in the rain
S-sayin' words like I love you
D-d-d'you love me? Yeah

My my heart like a kick drum
My my heart like a kick drum
My my heart like a kick drum
My my love like a voice.”
—The Avett Brothers “Kick Drum Heart”

I made her a mixtape of songs that reminded me of what we had. And another. The second mix I titled “i carry your heart with me” after an E.E. Cummings poem I quite like. It goes like this:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

This made the difficulty less difficult, knowing that I carried her heart, and she carried mine. The problem was that because we had each other’s heart, our hearts were still not together. But I was okay with “fearing no fate” because “she was my fate.” Some days I literally looked up at the sky and thought that “whatever a sun will always sing” was her.

The real predicament came when I realized that the choice I had made, to love Elizabeth, no matter what, had actually happened. You must understand, in my experience of being me, normally the things I choose to do of my own will fail relatively terribly, as my will is very weak. So when this one thing I had willed actually came to be, the logical solution is that something supplemented my own will. Does this mean that the choice was not mine? No. But was I alone in making it? I think not. And, to be honest, I am glad it was not—I would have probably chosen something a lot dumber.

Still, I now had the dilemma of my love. I loved Elizabeth. Normally this is a prerequisite for marriage. But I wasn’t ready for marriage, was I? I had always heard about guys being scared of commitment, and scoffed at the possibility that I would fall into such a pathetic condition. No, I would be a real man, buck up, and propose when I came to such a juncture. But when I realized that I might actually be in love, it genuinely scared me. When you are in love, true love, real love, there is nothing that anyone can tell you beforehand, there is no experience you have had off of which can base your thoughts. You have no idea what to do.

“People, people, people, they make it sound so easy
They say just do what your heart tells you to
But sometimes you cannot feel it
Sometimes you cannot hear it
Sometimes it won’t talk back to you
And yeah I know you love me
And yeah I want to love you back
And how I know you love me
And how I want to love you bad.”
—The Avett Brothers “Pretty Girl From San Diego”

I was nowhere near ready to make that commitment, and yet, everything in my life was ready for it. My pastor friend encouraged me to press on, telling me that commitment is like a swimming pool, you can’t expect to get a feeling for it by dipping your toes in on the side. The only way you are going to get used to the temperature is by jumping in headlong. So I decided to jump.

On the seventh of July, as we were driving from her parents’ house in Florida, to my family in South Carolina, while I was sharing parts of who I am that no one had been privy to before, I told her I loved her. This is, I have heard, a huge milestone. For Elizabeth and myself, it was inevitable. There was no other way it could have happened. The way we treated each other—loved each other—provided for no other circumstance than this. One day in February I asked a girl to go to Chick-fil-a with me, and five months later I am in love.

“I say hey I'll be gone today
But I'll be back all around the way
It seems like everywhere I go
The more I see
The less I know
But I know one thing:
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you

I've been a lot of places all around the way
I've seen a lot joy and I've seen a lot of pain
But I don't want to write a love song for the world,
I just want to write a song about a boy and a girl”
—Michael Franti “Say Hey (I Love You)”

Love has occasionally been viewed as requirement for marriage. I subscribe to such a tradition, and was immediately aware of the impending doom of my marriage. I say doom because I could see no positive ending to the matter. Having lived with myself for twenty one and one-half years at this point, I had begun to notice my tendency to be a jackass, and the consistent degradation of many relationships such a tendency causes. Naturally, a relationship as weighty as this would necessarily result in an even more weighty screw up on my part. Past experiences began to rise in my memory: every girl, every failure. It hurts some, because I wanted to share everything with her, but I didn’t want to hurt her with my semi-secret mistakes.

At this point in our story, I fell into a twofold trap: first, I assumed that I would have been able to fully and successfully love Elizabeth for the rest of my life all on my own strength; second, I completely removed her feelings from my calculations. I seemed to have forgotten that, if I was incapable of loving her, if I did not love her, then she would have probably let me know. Love, while it is not a feeling, can always be felt. We felt it.

“I got secrets from you, you got secrets from me
Because you're so worried about what I'm gonna think,
Baby I'm worried too.
But if love is a game, girl, then you're gonna win.
I'll spend the rest of my life bringing victory in,
If you want me to, yeah!”
—The Avett Brothers “Paranoia in B-flat Major”

The real test of love is in real life. Not in the happy, romantic, lovey-dovey moments. Even Hollywood can nail that. Love comes in when life comes in: honest, average life. I realized at some point in our relationship that Elizabeth asks “Why?” when deciding to do something, and I tend to ask “Why not?” This gives rise to serious conflicts when I decide to do something obnoxious just for obnoxiousness’ sake, and she wants to behave like a reasonable adult.

Elizabeth eats slowly, with purpose, while I tend to inhale my meals with the speed of the latest Hoover vacuum. She likes to plan things and be organized; I prefer spontaneity—that is unless something undermines the plan I had in mind—in which case I freak out. I take what are often joking discussions and slam them into heated arguments.

Each of these concerns has the potential to be a serious problem. Or not. The choice is ours. I could resolve every issue we ever have, I could work very hard to make sure that she never has a problem with anything I do, and she could do the same. I could buy her flowers, write her poems, massage her feet each and every day, but that wouldn’t be our love.

Love is a funny thing in that you can’t earn it. I don’t love her because she’s done the right things to make me do so; as if love were a cause-effect equation where she could force my hand into falling in love with her. No, I love her because she is mine. Because there is an ideal world, and that world includes me in love with her, us loving each other. I love her because that is the task that God has given me: not that it is a chore, a Sisyphian struggle that I must simply undergo; rather it is a blessing and a calling that fulfills me when I do it, rather than draining my effort and resources.

“Don't care where we're goin’, just wanna be with you.
Put your head on my shoulder, tell me what you been through.
When I lose my focus, you remind me of the truth.
Lift us up to the heavens for a bird's eye view.

One woman for me:
Other half of my soul, you are my queen.
One woman for me:
Other half of my soul, roots of my tree .”
—Matisyahu “Unique is My Dove”

You may be wondering what more there is to say? Just a few closing statements: our story is not extraordinary, although for us, it is both ordinary and life changing at the same time. I doubt you have been able to glean life lessons from my words—you, reader, are probably wiser than myself. I hope you are left with the impression that this story is little more than mundane, because that is where I live, and that is where you live, and if you have found love, or if you are going to find love, I all but guarantee that is where it will be—in everyday life.

On the ninth of October, in the year of our Lord 2010, I took Elizabeth to the Smithsonian Postal Museum in Washington, D.C. A small white box in my pocket went off in the metal detector. Afterward, we had a picnic lunch at a beautiful park adjacent to the Washington Monument. After a considerable amount of wasting time and rambling conversation, I had Elizabeth stand up next to me, told her much of what you have just read, and asked her if she would marry me. When I pulled the little white box out of my pocket, I opened it upside down. She still said yes. There is not much more that I can tell you. You have arrived at the end of the story. But we haven’t.

“She keeps it simple
And I am thankful for her kind of lovin'
'Cause it's simple

No longer do we wonder if we're together
We're way past that
And I've already asked her
So in January we're gettin' married.”
—The Avett Brothers “January Wedding”

Somebody to Love, Part 1

2011-02-08T16:45:00.009-05:00

“I am the least difficult of men: all I want is boundless love”
—Frank O’Hara

When I was six years old, I proposed to my friend Sarah. She and I went to church together and were definitely friends and definitely destined to be together. Sadly, she disagreed. Sarah declined my proposal on the grounds that I could not do a cartwheel. As a six year old, I had no idea that these things were so important in marriage. Here I had learned it was about unconditional love, but the real secret to a successful marriage was acrobatics. This brought about a radical change in my worldview. It also established a precedent, as every romantic relationship or pseudo-relationship I had from the age of six until my junior year of college failed because of my own inadequacy. Not that I always said something stupid or wasn’t caring, but I always looked at my relationships as a means of satisfaction.

In high school, I really liked Katie, but I didn’t do a great job of keeping up with caring for her—for the first week of our relationship, I did little more than smile as I passed her locker at school. That’s a big win for the male gender. She was my first kiss—I don’t regret it, but it didn’t help me care for her selflessly. I do regret the next few girls I kissed. Katie, I kissed because I truly cared for her. Marie and Erin I kissed for the sake of kissing. Then came the careful flirtations and never-official-relationship crushes, each of which was a new opportunity for me to selfishly entangle lovely young women who were undeserving of such foolishness: Allison, Haley, Anna, Kathryn. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.

Then came Bethany. Bethany was not so much a failure, because by my junior year at Winthrop University, I had learned it was a good thing to actually take the time to state my intentions and ask her on a date. It was to Waffle House, a prime location. We stayed until 1:30am on a Sunday morning, after she had been babysitting and I had been square dancing and we both had church early the next morning. These days were fun—I liked her and she knew it. We spent time together and all intentions were open, honest, and discussable at any time. It was less than pleasant when she said we should just be friends—although I can think of precious few times it is unpleasant to have a friend—but she was right. She was a remarkable young woman, I was a less than stellar young man, and we would not have worked out. But, like that first kiss with Katie, I don’t regret it. It set the stage for a grand finale that has only just begun to start. Still, I was upset—I had done everything like I was supposed to, and it still didn’t work out!

“Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love? “
—Queen “Somebody to Love”

I first met Elizabeth when we were both going to a summer conference in Panama City, FL. I distinctly remember thinking to myself “She is really cute. Too bad she goes to Vanderbilt, that would never work out.” When asked about this same conference, she told me “I thought you were a little weird and maybe a little rude. I thought you didn’t like me at all, even as a person. I remember having a conversation with Joel [a mutual friend], asking ‘T.J. hates me, right?’” Wrong. The two years too young T.J. in all his wisdom was very lacking in his ability to wisely interact with women.

The first time that I really met Elizabeth was on Saturday, the sixth of February, 2010. A series of fortunately unfortunate events including a formidable snowstorm in Washington, D.C. where she was an elementary school teacher and the fear of being trapped in the apartment with her much loathed roommates sent her packing to Rock Hill, SC. Through a series of fortuitous events I can only attribute to God, but you may feel free to call luck, chance, or fate, the person whom Elizabeth went to visit, her former (my current) youth pastor Mike, now resides in Rock Hill, where I ever so auspiciously attend Winthrop University.

When I “met her” this time I had the same thoughts as before—“she is really cute, and really nice, but she lives seven hours away, how would that ever work?” This time, however, we had a conversation. We had multiple conversations. She laughed at my jokes. There are few things more masculating for a man than a woman laughing at your jokes. Knowing that woman thinks you are funny and entertaining while still taking you seriously makes you feel like you are more than insignificant. We connected on serious matters like faith, a distaste for the mixed martial arts match everyone was watching on Pay-Per-View, the television shows Pscyh and Leverage, and the band the Avett Brothers. After our conversations at the MMA match and the Superbowl (which just so happened to be the next day), I thought of something.

On Monday, February eighth, after several back-and-forth-decisions in my head, I came by her number from our mutual friend Joel, and called her:
“Hey, uh, Elizabeth, this is T.J. I got your number from Joel, I hope you don’t mind.”
No, that was fine (or something along those lines)
“I was wondering if you would like to get some lunch with me. I have a little bit of free time, and I would like to go out to lunch with you if you would like to.”

I didn’t give her much time to react: I was very direct. (She tells me that I was not usually so serious). She said yes, and proceeded to walk out into the living room to tell Mike, “I think I am going on a date with T.J.”

She thought correct—I took her to the pinnacle of all first date locations: Chick-fil-a. You must understand, in my mind, Chick-fil-a is a magical combination of Jesus and chicken. My roommate told me this first date venue was the clincher for our relationship. The beauty of our first date was not primarily the location, rather, it was the lack of awkward first date conversation. She expected it to be miserable, having experienced many horrible first dates. When it didn’t suck, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

I felt like we could really communicate, free from the ambiguities of feelings and intentions, as it was, after all, just a date. The first date was incredibly significant for me, because I realized something that day in Chick-fil-a: I am a really fast eater, and Elizabeth is not. That is it. The sun didn’t shine brighter. The air didn’t smell likes roses. There were no unicorns or rainbows or angelic choruses to signify this fateful beginning of a new relationship. There were just a guy and a girl, talking. It was glorious.

That first week was, I believe, quite literally a gift from God. It snowed so heavily in the D.C. area that Elizabeth was forced to stay in Rock Hill until Sunday. This provided us with plentiful opportunities to spend time together—something of a commodity in a long distance relationship. We had dinner and lunch several times, went to see the movie Valentine’s Day—both agreeing that it left something to be desired—and we even went to Mike’s wife’s play.

That Sunday was Valentine’s Day, a fact which first—frightening, as the relationship had yet to be established and I didn’t know what that meant regarding the sharing of gifts, flowers, etc.; and second—encouraging. I felt that were few more preferable ends to a week that was shaping up to be a very promising relationship. Therefore, I did what any man would do—going with what I knew, I gave her flowers. Actually, just one flower. I only gave one, because I wanted her to be sure that I liked her, but not think I was ready to propose.
The truth is—I was ready to propose.

The very next week, while talking to a pastor friend, I asked if it was too early to buy a ring. Laughing at my “joke,” he paused, shrewdly realizing I was only half joking. In all seriousness, it was quite a ridiculous conclusion on my part: one week, with a girl who lives seven hours away, and I am already seriously considering marriage? I don’t quite know what was going through my head. All I knew was that I had never thought about a woman like I thought about Elizabeth. Not felt, but thought.

I had felt the emotional roller coaster of attraction and infatuation before, but I had always thought it was an opportunity to get the fulfillment that every relationship always promises but never delivers. I did not think this way with Elizabeth. It would have been difficult to expect fulfillment from someone who lives over 400 miles away, with whom I only talked for an hour each evening. With Elizabeth, I thought that I liked her very much, and I wanted to love her very much as well. So I did. I already knew from the recent influx of only slightly more realistic romantic films (the best source, of course, for practical knowledge) that love is not an emotion, but a choice. So I chose. I chose her. I chose to love her.

“Violent is the motion in my heart and in my body and mind
And silent is the feeling that I lost but I'm determined to find
And love is but an ocean, unrealistic notion
But I cling to her devotion and I let it pull me down to the floor
It goes on, on, on, on
It goes on, on, on, on
It goes on, on, on, on
It goes on, on, on.”
—The Avett Brothers “It Goes On and On”

These first weeks, these early forays in to what it meant to be in a long distance relationship were bitter only in the distance that separated us, but sweet in everything else. They were at best, unconventional. Not that love is ever conventional. Conventional love is made in Hollywood, and as the Avett Brothers so wisely point out, “life is more than just two hours long.” For both of us, this was the first relationship in a long time, and the first long distance relationship at all. We had no idea what we were doing. Add to that the fact that I was actually acting like a sensible, serious adult in my pursuit of this lovely young woman (somewhat of a rarity up to this point in my life), and you have a most interesting mix.

For the first month, we didn’t call it dating, didn’t indicate we were “in a relationship” on Facebook. And yet, we were. We talked every night. She had to be in bed by ten and I had to call after nine because of the cell phone minutes, so nine to ten every single night I was in my room, on the phone. It became “our time,” as we regularly built each other into our lives. We repeatedly admitted to each other the “newness” of it all—how we didn’t know what we were doing when it came to a long distance relationship, how we had yet to have a relationship this serious. It was exciting, like Columbus’ trans-Atlantic voyage.

“We don't know what we're doing
We do it again
We're just amateur lovers
With amateur friends!”
—Switchfoot “Amateur Lovers”

Read Part 2 Here

The Pain of Goodbye

2011-01-27T08:00:00.002-05:00

Let me start by saying I would like to punch almost every goodbye in the face. I say almost, only because there are some times I am very ready to see people gone. Other than that select group of people I am going to self righteously declare deserving of my wrath, I generally want people to not leave. Separation is painful. Whether it's divorce or a physical wound, when things that were meant to be together are forced apart, it hurts.

Because my fiancée lives several hundred miles away, I regularly have to say goodbye to her. On one such occurrence when I was in a particularly poetic mood, I penned (or rather "typed on my phone") this line:

I'm convinced that the curse of human existence exists most complete in the pain of goodbyes.

I stand by that. I do believe a general survey of your friends, or coworkers will reveal that the most painful times in their lives were at the loss of a lover, loved one, or friend.

Relationships are a messy business, mostly because when your life rubs up against someone else's for more than a moment, your soul reacts like a scoop of ice cream: you can still separate with your core intact, but you inextricably leave some of yourself behind. The separation is only made more impossible and painful the longer you are together--like two scoops of ice cream slowly melting into homogeneity.

I think this pain at separation is what makes redemption so beautiful. If division is the greatest human pain, then redemption, resolution should be the greatest human joy. It's why movies with reunified families or nations or friends or lovers may not get the highest critical acclaim, but they warm your heart better than a mug of hot chocolate.

People don't often appreciate redemption in this life because, in one sense, it isn't realistic. We live in a world where redemption is not commonplace among humanity. Depravity leads us more often to disunion. But that is God's greatest gift, that when the shadows of this life are over, we'll be welcomed with into the one place that has been torn most fully from our being by the Fall--the arms of our Creator.

The Opposite of Apathy

2011-01-20T14:00:00.001-05:00

I have a question: What is the opposite of apathy when not talking about people? When it comes to a person, the opposite of apathy is empathy, sympathy, compassion, or love. But when talking about not being apathetic about, say, schoolwork, what word is there to use?

Discipline, or maybe motivation? Could be, but that is a little wordy. I can't really feel compassion for my schoolwork. Maybe "being driven?" I ask for such a word because whatever that word is, I need. I have said I lack discipline, which I do, and motivation, which I need as well, but I think what I really need is just some sort of empathetic impetus.

When it comes to schoolwork, ministry, relationships, writing (including this blog), I have no "care" to do them much of the time. I am sure that many people, maybe even you, dear reader, struggle with this, but I am also sure I am the only one who it affects. This apathy proves incredibly paralytic in my daily life, all but eliminating any constructive activities I would complete on any given day.

Apathy represents such a formidable foe not only because of the effects it has if left unbridled, but also because it is nigh impossible to begin to fight. How do you fight apathy? Do I just need to try to care more? Isn't that exactly what I am struggling with? It seems the only way to combat apathy is to combat it. It is an incredibly redundant conundrum.

I do not have a solution or moral imperative for this issue, as I normally conclude blog posts with, so you'll have to figure this one out on your own without my incredible insight. And if you do, let me know.

Whatever the opposite of apathy is, I need it.

It's My 22nd Birthday

2011-01-18T15:00:00.001-05:00

It is not everyday that you turn 22. It is even fewer days that this age has much of a palpable impact on your life. Today, both of these rarities are happening to me.

The thing about my birthday is, there is little to no reason you should care that I successfully exited my mom 22 years ago at a hospital in Orlando, FL. Truthfully, neither should I. Some people I hope will take this opportunity to declare what they've always thought, but never had the forthright decency to say: "T.J., I don't give a rip about you." I would like to say thank you to these people.

However, I am not saying that you not care about me, or that I am alive (although I welcome such a sentiment if you are so inclined), but rather that you should not change how much you care on my birthday.

I used to place great significance on my birthday, gathering expectations doomed to be left unfulfilled. Birthday after birthday I was disappointed when ----- didn't come to my party, or when I didn't get ----- as a gift, or that ----- didn't call me. It is a very exhausting way to live: constantly being disappointed.

You might find it surprising that I found it surprising when January 19th rolled around, people still cared that I existed. Maybe they didn't come to my party, give me that gift, or call me, but they certainly seemed glad that I hadn't perished since the last time I saw them. This, I can only assume, is because they love me.

It seems, then, that real love is not a hit-and-run. Jesus doesn't come to save you and then say "Peace out, see ya when ya die!" He's there constantly, and wants you to be there too. Similarly, I can show, you can show, we can show that we love others in the 364 very merry UN-birthdays almost better than the one birthday per year we all have.

Snow

2011-01-11T11:00:00.001-05:00

Snow is complex. Not chemically: a couple of hydrogen and an oxygen come together below 32°F (0°C) in the atmosphere, eventually becoming too heavy to stay afloat and drift, tumble, flurry down to an oddly expectant planet.

Snow is complex because there is such dichotomy in its existence. Perhaps this rings true for many things that I am simply overlooking, but I can think of few comparable examples that can bring such simultaneous elation and chagrin.

Sunday night, along with a large number of my college-attending peers, I was overjoyed to learn the school administration had bowed to the weather's whim and given us a snow day. The sentiment carried over to Monday morning, when most woke up at a later than average hour due to the nonexistence of academic obligations.

Yet, once pelted with a snowball, or after taking an unexpected dive on an inopportune sled ride, the love for snow died quickly. Complaints of the cold, and the wet, and the driving difficulty all began to drown out the adoring comments we had for the precipitation just a few hours earlier. Those comments returned Monday night, and Tuesday as well when we received two additional snow days.

Similarly, snow has great connotations for both death and birth, innocence and degradation. Christ is said to have washed us whiter than snow--so it is a standard of cleanliness and purity. But, at the same time, snow brings desolation. There are few things as harsh and violent as cold, and as subtly destructive as ice. For many, snow spells death. Any vegetation or unsheltered wildlife is certainly doomed at the arrival of snow.

The only things that can survive snow are those that can fight it. Humans combat it with our central heating and snowplows, but we welcome it with adulation. Snow is, like almost everything else in creation, complex. Love to life to death to doughnuts have a pro and con comparison, a good and bad connotation, especially humans. The beauty of it all, and at least one purpose of art, is sifting through the light and dark of it all.

Tron: Legacy

2010-12-22T16:01:00.002-05:00

"I believe positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time. We all long for redemption, for catharsis."

--Dom Cobb in Inception.

As a writer, I find it hard to dispel this point, and its relevance lays the foundation for most of the way I evaluate entertainment. Good stories are essentially redemption stories. Tron is no exception.

The movie as a whole was phenomenal (more on what I have to say about it later). Stunning visuals that brought to life an environment literally out of this world. But what impressed me more was the blatant realism of the characters placed in an explicitly artificial world. One character, Quorra, talks about how Kevin Flynn has been teaching her about self-sacrifice: "removing yourself from the equation." But its not only positive characteristics that were real: the various programs also demonstrate greed and betrayal on a level comparable to humans. Which makes sense: no creation can surpass the perfection of its creator.

Perfection, the intended goal of Flynn's Grid (where the movie takes place), stands apart as the most interesting thing to take from this movie. Flynn nails it when he says "The thing about perfection is, it's unknowable. And yet its right in front of you." While I would say that we cannot create perfection, and we cannot know it, but we can experience it. We cannot know God's perfection, but we can, through his grace, experience it--be in it. To a lesser extent, you can experience perfection in the grace people show each other, but as all things humans touch, that grace is tainted by those less graceful actions we commit.

From a narrative stand point, Tron hit the mark. The message was woven among the visuals and plot in a subtle but ever-present manner. While trying to escape CLU's numerous attempts to achieve perfection, Sam, Kevin, and Quorra find a little bit of their own: to sum it up in a cheesy Beatles ending: "all you need is love."

Hallelujah, By and By

2010-12-20T09:00:00.001-05:00

The drive from south Miami to Orlando to see Grampa and Granny takes a few hours. In most of the pictures I see of me and my Grampa, I am doing something with him. We are playing with blocks: I love building things, and he is a self-taught artist, so it works out. I remember playing baseball in his backyard, and the times he lets us ride on his lawnmower or in the trailer behind it. I walk into his garage while he and my dad are working on our red Dodge Caravan. I have a vague recollection of either a child-oriented lecture on mechanics, or perhaps just eavesdropping on what they are saying. He comes down and helps my dad fix our house after Hurricane Andrew in 1992.

He is an average sized man, especially when standing next to my six-foot-four dad. Although, when I am a young child, he seems to be the biggest man I know. Everyone speaks well of him: as a kid with everything figured out, I know my mom has to say nice things, it is her dad. But even my dad makes it seem like he is the biggest man in the family. “When you marry a woman, you marry a family,” my father tells me on more than one occasion. I can only assume he has his father-in-law in mind when he says that.

It seems that in all my memories he looks exactly the same: He wears glasses (although he didn’t used to); His hair has always been grayish white. He is never bald, but never has a full head of hair. Even in the old pictures of him, his wife, my mom and her sister, his blonde hair, not balding, looked just like the “Grampa” I visit through the years. He laughs a deep, manly chuckle that only comes from a palpable enjoyment of life and seems to assure you whatever was just said is undoubtedly funny.

We call him “Grampa.” Not Papa, Grandad, Grandaddy, or Granpa. No, he is very specific: he wants to be called Grampa, with an “m.” I don’t know why he wants us to call him that, but we don’t mind. He never asks us to do anything unreasonable, and so as a kid it seems natural, right. As if there is some natural way the world should be, and that way includes me calling him Grampa.

Now that I think about it, he hardly asks us to do anything at all. There is the leaf-raking session every time we visited the house they moved to in the Northeast Georgia mountains, but even that was enforced by my parents, not him. The one request he regularly makes of us is not to fight with each other. The only time I ever see him cry or get angry is when I fight with my brother or sisters. He explains a concept I am reluctant to accept: how “He’ll always be your brother,” or “You’ll always have your sisters, and you need to be there for each other.”

Naturally I try to listen to what he says—my Grampa is, after all, the smartest man ever. I mean, he lived through part of the Great Depression, and World War II. I remember the first time I really understood that. I was astounded that I knew someone who was alive during a time in actual history. He shows me one of his elementary class pictures, and the one thing that strikes me is the lack of shoes. There are only a handful of children with shoes, and Grampa isn’t one of them. In the picture, he doesn’t seem to mind.

My Grampa always impresses me when I think of him, though I can’t tell you exactly what it is that impresses me. It isn’t his stint in the Army at a radio relay base in Africa during the Korean War. It isn’t the successful ownership of Professional Carpet Systems for almost a decade, during which he employed my dad between jobs. It isn’t his car phone—very prestigious to have when they pre-empted the cell phone—although as a kid this is one of the coolest things about him. He always quick adapts to new technology—the computer, internet, and e-mail—not a common feat among his peers. It’s not the multiple battles with heart issues, the quadruple bypass surgery. It isn’t even his faith: a go to church every Sunday and let God’s love show between each visit sort of faith; the kind that preachers preach about when they’re really talking about Jesus. It isn’t any of these things. It is probably all of them, and then some.

He tells me once about how one time in church when another guy had the nerve to put his arm around my Granny before she was dating Grampa. He explains how there rose up in him an incredible urge to throttle the guy. He didn’t, naturally. It was in church. My mom tells me about how he got my Granny. She was the Baptist pastor’s daughter, and their first date was to—gasp—a drive-in movie, an act comparably abominable to dancing. Sometimes I see the old 1950s couple transported to their living room: Still with the pet names and a kiss on the cheek and the occasional clasped hand.

I have a faint memory of his pipe but I may just be imagining that. My Grampa would never smoke. Except that he used to smoke cigarettes but switched to a pipe because my aunt was allergic. He quit the pipe and threw it into a sinkhole next to his house the day his father died of lung cancer. “It’s a three minute addiction,” he says once, “If you can withstand it for three minutes, it’ll go away.” I don’t smoke, so I doubt I’ll ever know if that’s really the case or if my Grampa just has extraordinary willpower. But I sure as hell am not going to pick up a habit that my Grampa tried and then quit. He is, after all, just about the smartest man ever.

As religious as Grampa is, going to visit him never feels like going to church. I’m always learning things, but never being preached at. His favorite hymn is “I’ll Fly Away.” It’s an old country church hymn about going “to a home on God's celestial shore...when this life is o’er.” I never know it is his favorite until they play it at his funeral.

My dad chokes up a little when he tells me. I don’t understand why everyone cries: he didn’t flinch in the face of death—he is escaping “like a bird from prison bars” to “a land where joy shall never end.” But they aren’t sad because it isn’t his time, or because of the tragedy of it all. They are crying because when a man as big as my Grampa passes, you mourn.

Are You the Walrus?

2010-12-15T09:00:00.001-05:00

There is part of me, hidden under layers, that heavily lauds any attempt at skinny white boys doing good, clean hip-hop. Enjoy this dated piece of Christian hip-hop history:

Books Ruin the Movies

2010-12-13T09:00:00.001-05:00

For most of my thoughtful life, I have been of the opinion that this shirt is mostly correct. It seemed to me that every time a piece of literature was adapted to film, the medium proved sorely lacking. Naturally, the easiest person to blame is someone else, claiming that no creative expression can match up to the individual imagination.

That would be the way I have always looked at it: the Lord of the Rings movies were fantastic, and it was enjoyable to see the story visual depicted. But, the battle for Helm's Deep was not as epic as the one I read. Nor was Saruman as evil. Nor Minas Morgul and the Ringwraiths as terrible. But I don't think this comes from a shortage of creativity on the director's part. I think the books are the ones to blame.

A recent Curator article spoke to this--the author essentially saying that no one who dove headlong into the books will ever be able to fully enjoy a film adaption, because it will always be the second time he or she has seen it. This has been my experience--I have only recently been able to get caught up in the emotion of book-to-film adaptions that I have read, because I already knew what was coming. I didn't even frown when Dumbledore died, I was too busy critiquing the differences they had made in the plot that lead up to it.

The solution, obviously, is to stop reading books. Or, and this is just a thought, we could try really really really hard to treat the movies as their own story. Certainly, you won't be surprised when Mr. Male Supporting Role dies tragically, or when Ms. Protagonist admits to that love affair, but you can enjoy the d*mn movie--which you probably paid $10+ to go see--without musing about your superior creative direction for the film.

I should say, my two favorite movies--Star Trek and Pride and Prejudice--represent both sides of this issue. Granted, I have never read the Jane Austen classic, but I know the story so well that it never surprises me. Yet, each and every time I am pissed at Darcy's arrogance and surprised by Elizabeth's ironic pride. I cry every time I watch Star Trek, and fist pump multiple times in celebration of a certain explosion or stellar cinematography. So read the book, then forget about it. Go enjoy a movie.

Deconstructing Childhood Construction

2010-09-22T12:16:00.003-04:00

When your dad works for the church, your family doesn’t have much disposable income. As a kid, I rarely picked up on this—I didn’t mind eating the store brand cereals or wearing Wal-Mart clothes. What I was aware of, though, was the fact that my family didn’t get as many new toys as my friends’ families. This wasn’t a problem, but it did result in one necessity: recyclable entertainment. My personal venue for such reusable fun was my substantial collection of Legos.

The infinite combination of seemingly endless plastic blocks occupied a significant portion of my childhood. The spaceship of today was tomorrow’s race car, the next day’s superhero base, and the next week’s medieval fortress. For me, the joy was not in the imaginative battles and adventures the finally constructed sets could engage in, but in the creative process itself. I would rather have the opportunity to build one set than play with three. My brother would hastily construct a not-to-poorly designed car and then immediately begin to ask if I would play some variation of a race or demolition derby. For me, this was unthinkable! How dare he suggest I risk destroying that which I had spent such a lengthy and tedious amount of time constructing!?

The constructs I was most proud of were perfectly coordinated in structure and color; not a single Lego brick was unnecessary or out of place. I would naturally build any brand new set exactly as the instructions indicated. The longer the pieces were in my possession, however, the more likely they were to be shuffled and recycled into a new, inventive piece of sci-fi machinery, the specific engineering of which only I could explain. These prized productions would then proceed to occupy a special location on top of my dresser or bookshelf, safe from the war-mongering grip of my “less scrupulous” fellow creator.

Yet, even my carefully conceived and composed creations were eventually destroyed, if only to make way for the next great endeavor of my early engineering career. Sometimes, I wonder if I missed out a little bit. Not that I would trade the care I put into making each and every set. I have merely found myself pondering my brother’s consistent, endearing urge to just play, and mine to think and create. Maybe my 10-year-old self could construct a happy-medium bridge between the creative process and simply enjoying the participation.

Are Pennies Useful?

2010-09-20T12:50:00.004-04:00

What follows is an incredibly insightful yet entertaining rant against the penny (and the nickel). He makes a compelling argument against the production of pennies and nickels, and also points out that it is a non-political issue, which could help facilitate bi-partisan communication:

As I see it, pennies are all but useless. The only thing I use them for are putting in the "give a penny, take a penny" plate at registers, the Salvation Army red buckets during the Christmas season, and for throwing at people.

So I ask: Do you think the penny is a good thing to keep around? What are some reasons for keeping it?

Video Games as Art

2010-09-13T11:17:00.002-04:00

When it comes to "art," I tend to be very inclusive yet critical at the same time. That is to say, I am willing to accept most everything as "artistic," but once I have, I will be very critical of its quality.

Video Games: It would seem very apparent that video games are art: they possess a story, with an often well developed plot and characters, and there is very obviously a significant amount of visual artistry that goes into developing them. Why then would Roger Ebert, the renowned movie critic, declare that "video games can never be art?"

Ebert's argument is that video games are an activity, as their name suggests, a game. And that as such, they are automatically removed from contention as being art. Citing the examples of Bobby Fischer and Michael Jordan, he states that those players never sought to have their activities deemed as "art."

First, do we not often look at sports stars or participants in various hobbies and activities and say "they make it an art?" Second, Ebert is arguing against the players of the video games as artists, where it seems the creators of the video games are the obvious artists. While Fischer or Jordan may not be "artists," someone had to design and create the chessboard and basketball equipment, and it would be either naive or elitist to say that their work is not art.

While I would agree with Ebert in that "No one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great poets, filmmakers, novelists and poets." And a great number of video games, while still acceptable as "art," are, to put it plainly, very crappy pieces of art. But anyone who has seen something like the video below must agree that in the very least, video games are creative and inspire creativity, which is, in my belief, a core part of what "art" is.

Swept Me Away

2010-09-08T11:26:00.002-04:00

I know a couple who had the Avett Brothers' song "Swept Me Away" as their first dance. I think it is a novel idea. What are the criteria for deciding what your first dance song should be?

It seems to me that it should be one that both of you like, but also one that is not just popular, but endearing and long lasting. Not that it has to be "timeless," but it ought to be one that you will always have around and will, say, teach to your children:

Your thoughts?

Francis Chan FTW

2010-09-07T12:11:00.002-04:00

Here's an excellent video of a conversation between Mark Driscoll, Joshua Harris, and Francis Chan, on Chan's recent decision to leave his head pastor position at Cornerstone.

Check out Driscoll's question at 8:30...and Chan's response to it. So good:

What's Next for Francis Chan? A Conversation with Mark Driscoll and Joshua Harris from Ben Peays on Vimeo.

Action: Figure It Out

2010-06-24T14:00:00.001-04:00

I am a big fan of "looking before I leap," that is, thinking and analyzing the hell out of things before I get to doing them. Unfortunately, just because I am a fan of something doesn't mean it's the right way to go. Otherwise there would be a lot more Mt. Dew, bacon, people wearing superhero outfits, and babies.

Back to the question at hand: should we think things through beforehand? The answer is a definitely, but not. Let me explain. Most often when I think things through, I do so in order that I won't make a mistake in whatever action I choose to take. This is legitimate. That being said, because 97.65% of the time (exact statistic), the answer is not black-and-white obvious, and even if it is, the "thinking before acting" is just an excuse to come up with justification for choosing the wrong choice. Agreed? Agreed. Good then.

In my own life, (and I don't think I'm alone in this), the "thinking" process lands me in a place where I struggle with choosing how to act for an indefinite amount of time, leaving me doing nothing about the issue at hand. I wrote this line a while back, and have yet to formulate some poetry to surround it: "My inaction's action enacts the law of my heart." Again, let me explain. When we do not act, that, in and of itself, is an action. That's right, you heard me: Inaction is an action. And when we don't act, we are making a choice without the control of actually making a choice.

Many times, this seems like a very freeing experience: essentially I don't have to deal with the stress of making a choice because if I don't choose then the choice will be made for me. But in the end, this is everything but freeing, because I am thenceforth (heck yeah I used that word) bound to the choice my lack of choice choose. Make sense? Awesome.

Oh Potter, You Rotter

2010-06-09T13:00:00.000-04:00

I have been prompted to write this because of the literal threat of a slow and painful death by a friend of mine. I was quite terrified. Almost as terrified as the time that basilisk attacked me at the urging of the memory of a dark lord who was contained in a diary.

Speaking of dark-lord-memory-induced-basilisk-attacks, I just finished the second book of the Harry Potter series: The Chamber of Secrets. You must understand: I am someone who all but swore to never read them, or in the very least decided to put every other book ever written in

front of Harry Potter on the "list of books to read." That's right, that includes Twilight and Joel Osteen's Become a Better You.

And yet, I took The Sorcerer's Stone with me to Summer Conference and then followed it up with The Chamber of Secrets, which I finished last night. I must say I have thoroughly enjoyed both of them. As a writer, I can appreciate the overall storyline, the epic and destiny-driven plot that does not overshadow the everyday experiences of Potter and his friends. The one bit of criticism I do have is that it is reminiscent of the TV show 24 in that there is a single major conflict each and every book. It may get repetitive. It hasn't yet, just the prospect of it is not great.

Other than that, I have highly enjoyed a thorough romp through Ms. Rowling's created world. I am not and have never been opposed to the concept of magic, wizards and witchcraft. At least, that was never my reason for not reading them...because it is fiction, after all. About 45% of the reason I never desired to read them was the fans. They tended to annoy me on a Twilight and Jonas Brothers level. Oh, yeah. The other 55% was that I had always disliked the prospect of witnessing the plight of an angsty teenager and his magical world. I wasn't wrong, per sé, but we'll just leave it at this: that which kept me away has drawn me in.

Being Right Isn't Always Right

2010-05-25T14:00:00.001-04:00

Lately on his blog, Donald Miller has talked about civil dialogue, how having the right theology doesn't make you a Christian, and why correct doctrine is only half of what's important. This is something that has weighed heavily on me for quite a while.

As someone who is heavily reformed, I tend to take the arrogant Calvinistic approach to theology, constantly critiquing people's views and pointing out the errors in the way the think about God. That being said, I have also found it in myself to really appreciate groups or individuals who effectively communicate the Kingdom to the world.

In one of his posts, Donald Miller says "We commonly believe that the Evil One wants us to teach bad theology, and I suppose he does. But what he wants to do more is to have us teach right theology in a way that devalues human beings, insults and belittles them, and so sets them against the loving message of God." That sounds like someone straight from The Screwtape Letters (which I am reading by the way).

In my experience, I cannot deny the absolute validity of this idea. But what to do with it--do we abandon correct doctrine for the nuanced idea of "just loving people?" I think not. But I do think there is room for some preliminary bending of our of steadfastly stubborn grasping to it.

You see, when Christ came to earth, the two things he did was love/serve people, and spread the truth/correct their view of God and how they should relate to him. Some denominations nail the loving and serving half, but are weak on the theology (in my opinion). Many reformed believers, on the other hand, nail the theology (and don't we know it) but fall horribly short from our brothers and sisters in the "to look after orphans and widows in their distress" part.

I think what it really boils down to is that we really need to realize that methodology is part of the message (something Miller gets at in this post), if not most of the message. Because no matter how true something is, the methodology is what people more often pay attention to. If we present the right truth in a way that affirms rather than detracts, and honestly and humbly attempt to consider other points of view, I think it will make Jesus smile a little more, and maybe even chuckle.

...and Found?

2010-05-24T13:00:00.002-04:00

If you didn't know that the series finale of LOST was last night, then please inform me where the the rock you have been living under is located, because is sounds like a wonderfully secluded place.

I don't frequently discuss television on this blog, but I am going to start. I started watching the show in the first season but got disenchanted with it in the third, because there was no foreseeable end to the maddening questions and plot twists. But I ended up picking it back up in season 5. So I missed an entire season, who cares?

If you have no idea what is going on, I won't be a narciLOSTssist and tell you that you MUST watch it, that your condition as a functioning member of culture is dependent upon it. But it is good stuff.

As for the finale, I was pretty satisfied. While they didn't answer a lot of questions I was hoping they would, that's not their purpose and they've set no precedent for it. Their job is to present a complete story, and they did just that.

The two concessions of my overall approval of the show are this:

There are some things that seem a little sloppily done. For example:

Michael/Walt all but disappearing after season 2.
Some of the early series statements: Aaron being important/foreboding, Jack's tatoos, etc.

While they didn't necessarily answer all of your questions, and that's fine, they did leave out some info that wouldn't have necessarily answered our questions, but would have left the viewers with the ability to come to their own conclusions. I'm talking about the real importance of the island (if the smoke monster is dead, who cares about the island? [unless you give us another reason to]) and what the smoke monster really was.

Other than that, I think that as a whole, LOST was an unparalleled television event.

Hipsters

2010-05-20T12:00:00.000-04:00

Seems like everyone these days are hating on hipsters. Not that I don't approve. Here's one of the better videos. "For the love of M. Ward!"

[Tip o' the Hat to Abraham Piper]

Yet Another Video

2010-05-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

I find it just a tad sad (rhyme FTW) that when I can't think of something to say on this blog, I just post a video. Here's a video:

Gravité from Renaud Hallée on Vimeo.

[Tip o' the Hat to Tripp Crosby]

Nashville Flood

2010-05-17T14:30:00.000-04:00

While I have been gone for a while, I have not been completely out of the loop. I was quite surprised to hear about the flooding in Nashville, maybe because I never associated Nashville with anything but music and art.

Anyhow, here is an excellent video by Michael Deppisch depicting the flood Nashville has been experiencing over the month of May:

[Tip o' the Hat to Rachel Middleton]

My Recent Absence

2010-05-10T06:00:00.000-04:00

I don't know why I feel obligated to tell you this, but, as you may have noticed, I have not been blogging for about the past 1.5 weeks. Not that you care, I mean, I obviously did not feel obligated enough to update with anything.

Here is an update, however: I will be gone for another week, I am leaving at 6:30 this morning for RUF's Summer Conference in Panama City, Florida. It will be great fun, I suppose. When I get back I plan to start back up blogging with some notes from the various seminars and sermons I hear while I am there.

Well, see you on the other side.

"Float On"--Modest Mouse

2010-04-22T10:00:00.001-04:00

While I don't really listen to them a whole lot, and this was an overplayed hit, I still like this song by Modest Mouse. Part of that is due to the music video. It isn't really "pretty" or necessarily analogous to the song, but I can appreciate it artistically and from an purely entertaining perspective.

Also, I think the message is a good one. Especially at this time, because by the time this is posted I will have be running on substantially less than the necessary amount of sleep recommended for 21-year-old males.

Seriously, though--why do we stress so much about school, relationships, work, etc. We are all going to float on. Things are temporary and life is too. James 4:14 says our list is "a mist," and we are supposed to live as sojourners in this world, we are not of this world.

While I don't think Modest Mouse is looking at it from that point of view, you can still revel in the truth of the matter.

What A Wonderful World

2010-04-21T10:00:00.000-04:00

You've probably heard that idyllic song, the theme for so many closing and opening movie scenes, when all is warm and fuzzy. But I must put the question to you, have you ever thought the world was so wonderful that you wanted to scream the song with a nice dash of distorted guitar and blast beat in the background?

Yeah, me neither.

But apparently someone did, and they decided Louis Armstrong should still take the reins on his classic:

[Tip o' the hat to Abraham Piper]

I Had Hanson Hair

2010-04-20T16:00:00.004-04:00

If you had trouble believing that I had hair comparable to Hanson like I claimed yesterday, then here is the proof.

I have no regrets. Except for maybe that first one. Ouch.

What was I thinking? A spear, really?
The tie-dye and blue camouflage I can understand,
but that spear is just ridiculous.

Science fair + Hawaiian shirt = FTW.

"The gang" in middle school and a nice side view of those glorious golden locks.

With Sheila back in the day.

Right before I cut it, it was long enough to put into a ponytail. I kinda miss it. Just a tad.

Remember Hanson?

2010-04-19T16:00:00.001-04:00

I didn't, at least, I tried to forget about it. All those times getting called "Hanson" in middle school because I grew my long, golden locks out gave me a perhaps irrational hate of the band.

I guess I had always assumed that they sucked, but this is something I would actually buy:

Thinking 'Bout Somethin'

HANSON | MySpace Music Videos

Do you remember Hanson? What are your thoughts on this song, at face-value?

[Tip o' the Hat to Tyler Stanton]

Generic Broadcast

2010-04-14T15:00:00.001-04:00

Despite it's obvious unamericanity, I kinda like the BBC:

[be ye here warned, there be profanity]

Defunct

2010-04-12T17:00:00.001-04:00

That word has always intrigued me: defunct. Obviously coming from the same root as "function," but with the negative "de" attached, therefore making it essentially mean "not working." This is what goes on in my brain. I guess that's part of why I am an English major.

There was a point last week where I was seriously questioning my creativity. So I asked you to ask me questions. And because of one of those questions, and an excellent video posted on Stuff Christian Like, I have delved further into this idea.

I've come to realize that I am overly self-absorbed in, well, myself. I mean, T.J.'s a pretty cool guy and all, but he's nothing too special. I should know. I am he. (and yes, that is proper grammar). Basically, I am intensely concerned with how well I do things, and if I will fail.

Failure is one of my biggest fears. Not in all things, but in things I care about--and rarely will I verbally tell you what those things are. If you are carefully observant, however, you will be able to tell. If I get pissed when I don't do well in it, I probably care. If I get horribly despondent and morbidly introspective when it isn't going as planned, I probably care.

The problem is, all of this caring how things turn out comes from a place of pride, where I think one of two things: A) That I can do something, anything, whatever-the-task-at-hand-thing better than whoever I am competing against, or the personal standard I set for myself. B) That I can do anything good and pure and right without God. Both of these assumptions are wrong, and feed off the inherently competitive nature of pride (something that was brought to my attention by C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity, which I will probably discuss further in the future).

So when I fail to live up to my standard or God's standard (which, I dunno, always), I feel the pressure of the entire universe falling on me as I attempt an Alas-esque feat, trying to maintain my whole world.

I have my thoughts on why this is wrong and how to fix it, but I'm interested to hear what you think?

Cliché-ly Titled Poem?

2010-04-08T08:00:00.001-04:00

Another poem from my poetry writing class. The assignment was to do a metered poem. I chose iambic tetrameter--that is, four iambic feet, which consist of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable.

As usual, your criticism is welcome.

Some Lines On Romans 1-8

2009

The law, the law is everywhere.

In everyone you meet--it's there.

It's written on our hearts--and still,
We each will do what each one wills.

Oh what a wretched man we are,
We hit the ditch when aimed for stars.
But what's a wretch who doesn't know
What he will reap from what he sows?

In love, in love is everyone

With all the different things of fun.
And given over, righteousness
Is put on hold for things much less.

Now what's the wrong of all of this?
What's right with what you say we've missed?
And who's to say it's wrong at all?
We're past some dumb, archaic Fall.

Indeed we are, and so it seems,
We still cannot fulfill our dreams.
As slaves to passion, pleasure, hate,
That promise much but don't placate,
We map a self destructive course,
And of us all, I am the worst.
Yet all things work for me, for best.
That's not the verdict I'd have guessed.
It seems the last thing left to see
Is: Oh, who will deliver me?

Question Everything

2010-04-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

But more importantly, right now, question me.

I think I am at least a couple weeks, if not more, behind the Formspring curve, but I'm jumping on it anyway. Hopefully this will serve to jumpstart my creative genius (<--creative arrogance) (<--creative internal dialogue), which has apparently left me.

I know people claim they will do something but then drop it after a while, but I solemnly promise that I will answer each and every [appropriate] question you ask. When I hop into things like this, I don't do 'em halfway.

So ask me something: formspring.me/tjschley

Stuff Christians Like (Sort of) Guest Post

2010-04-06T08:00:00.003-04:00

I have been a big fan of Jon Acuff's blog Stuff Christians Like for quite some time. Therefore, I lept at the opportunity to for him to do a guest post on this blog. While it isn't a formal guest post, this is part of a full-length scorecard, the rest of which can be found here:

The “Is that contestant on American Idol a Christian? Scorecard”

48. They do one of those Ford commercials involving a car wash and they wear a tankini during the scene = + 3 points

Julian Smith

2010-04-05T13:00:00.000-04:00

In the list of things that make me laugh, Julian Smith is definitely a prominent member. Here's a couple of samples:

and

He has also done a Jeep commercial that you may have seen, the popular "25 Things I Hate About Facebook" video, in addition to some work with Rhett & Link, another entry on my Laugh List.

PICTURES FTW (Part the Second)

2010-04-02T08:00:00.002-04:00

Here are some more portraiture-type photos. This assignment was similar to the last one, but in this one I had to specifically position my subjects. Thanks to Bruce and Matt for helping me out as "models." I use that term loosely.

Also, I have about 3-4 more batches of photos from this class, so keep an eye out for them in future posts.

This one may be a little cliché. Maybe:

And this one is one of my favorites:

Also, I just realized that all of these are vertical shots. Interesting.

PICTURES FTW

2010-04-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

Because I know some people liked it when I put up the pictures I took before, and because everyone prefers looking at pictures to reading what I have to say, here's some pictures from my Intro to Photography class.

This first batch was a no-specifications portraiture assignment:

More to come tomorrow.

Of Pterodactyls

2010-03-31T08:00:00.003-04:00

I don't know quite what it is, and I'm not the only one, but a Pterodactyl is one of the coolest dinosaurs, especially to impersonate. Maybe it's because I can do the pterodactyl screech super well.

Maybe it's because a beast that could come flying out of the air and pick up a small human for lunch is, well, beast. Or boss. Or both. Alliteration FTW. Anyhow, I have found myself in a pterodactyl mood recently. And while others may disagree, I can't say it's a bad thing. On Sunday night there were two occasions I screamed "PTERODACTYL ATTACK!" and jumped on a high schooler at youth group. Win.

Also, observe:

I am not saying that if I could evolve Pokéman style into a pterodactyl hybrid, I would. But I'm also not saying it would be an easy decision not to.

I think we can agree that the pterodactyl is one of the greatest animals ever. Next to of course, the Piranhamoose.

As a closer, I'd like to share this link with you. Be warned, it is from the Oatmeal and is definitely inappropriate. But it is dang funny and features the love child of a bear and pterodactyl--that's right--a bearodactyl. Enjoy.

Three Things That Make Me Laugh

2010-03-30T08:00:00.000-04:00

More specifically, three webcomics. These three are part of a select few of webcomics that make me laugh almost every comic. And they each post at least three times a week.

Here, I am giving you something else to distract you:

1. Toothpaste For Dinner--updated daily, simple art, sarcastic and random humor:

Also this and this.

2. Strangegods--updated three times a week, featuring good jokes and a groundhog:

3. Wondermark--another three day a week webcomic, this one has old-timey illustration style while focusing on much more timely issues (see below) and featuring some fantastic creatures:

Tell me what you think!

Also, are there any webcomics or webcomicesque things you subscribe to?

Unconventional Advertising

2010-03-29T08:00:00.001-04:00

Due to unforeseen and difficult, stressful circumstances my posting may be spotty for a while. Here's one I dragged from the depths:

This video is way old, as in, I've had the draft for this post in my posts list for at least four to five months. So long, in fact, that I don't really remember the justification behind it, but perhaps those of you in advertising will enjoy this?

I know I would be cuss well more inclined to buying something if this advertisement flew by.

Is this an effective advertising technique?

[Tip O' the Hat to Brad Ruggles]

Not to Get Political, But... [Part 2]

2010-03-26T08:00:00.004-04:00

[View Part 1]

This is going to be short, I've realized there's not much more to say. I've already said that Glenn Beck is despicable, not in the good way either.

It would be one thing to simply espouse conservative viewpoints in an aggressive manner. It would be another to rail against someone who was inciting violence and hate. But when you decry Jim Wallis as a Marxist (among other things), a man who is the president of Sojourners, a ministry dedicated to helping people, you're just despicable. I will refrain from stronger language.

Also, Beck's claim that he must be saying something right because of the opposition is also defunct: There was huge opposition from people in the U.S. and in the various European countries to the atrocities of Fascists in Europe, but did that mean Hitler, Franco, and Mussolini were "really on it?" I think not.

Finally, a friend shared this verse with me on yesterday's post. Yet another passage of Scripture (Mormon scripture, too) that directly contradicts Glenn Beck's idiotic rantings:

"Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy."
--Proverbs 31:8-9

I don't want to get really political or anything on this blog, but this is the first time in a long time that something political has absolutely impassioned me enough to have to say something about it.

Not to Get Political, But...

2010-03-25T08:00:00.003-04:00

I don't think this is a political issue. I think it is an inherently theological one.

Now, just as a caveat, I would like to inform you that, if pushed to it, I would probably declare myself politically conservative, or at least conservative-moderate. I also don't have huge issues with Fox News as a network (a view that may change the next few years), like many liberal-minded people do.

That being said, Glenn Beck is nothing short of one of the most despicable "journalists" (if you can call him that) I have ever witnessed. Recently, he has equated the ideas of social justice with communism, and actually had the audacity to tell Christians to leave their churches if their church supports it.

First, where the heck does Glenn Beck get the idea he has any authority to compel Christians to do anything. His Mormon faith is not a branch of Christianity (an argument for another time) and even if it were, he is nowhere near the position of minister.

Second, if you take even the slightest glance at the Bible, both testaments make a strong emphasis on caring for the poor, and instituting social justice. Observe:

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world."
--James 1:27 (closely preceded by a warning to bridle your tongue--ironic? I think not).

But that's a little ambiguous, yes? How about this:

"The righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’"
--Matthew 25:37-40.

I don't know how you can get much clear than that. There are also old testament examples of social and economic justice. Not to mention probably the greatest commandment Christ gave--love your neighbor as yourself. If you were poor, destitute, unable to pay for basic health or living costs, I think you would honestly desire help, so why is even talking about doing that considered dangerous?

Part 2 of this to come tomorrow. [See it here]

Place Poem

2010-03-24T08:00:00.002-04:00

Another assigned poem for my Poetry Writing class last semester. We were required to pick a place on campus, describe it in poetic verse, then add a character to the location. If you go to Winthrop, try to guess where it is.

Also--I love feedback on my poetry--specific feedback. As in, this line works, I don't understand that line, etc. So do not withhold if you have something.

Decide, Decide, or Die
2009

A young man walks through
The small, secret, brick-lined tunnel,
Decide, decide, decide: Two white doors,
One knobless, contend on either side.
He bears a strange similarity to
The long, unused light, exposed by a cracked cover,
Residing with a pipe on the too-low white ceiling.
Why choose the knobless door?
Why not the obvious, knob-ful choice?
Four times sprayed paint calls him, with a
Revolutionary upraised fist to “GIVE IN,”
He wants to give in to the knobless door;
The knoblessness is no less than alluring.
The fifth “GIVE IN” fist, however, once
Scrawled on the ground, is worn away:
Many have walked that way before.
And, one time on the rusted vent, the fist
Reminds him of the temporary nature of things.
How this decision, indecision, result,
Are already all but gone.
Three prosperous green dots, blooming with
His potential, underline a lover’s note:
“It’s too late to turn back now…
I believe, I believe, I believe I’m falling in love.”
No. He turns back now,
He believes, he believes, he is loveless.
In dying retreat, he ducks to miss the pipe.

What Teachers Make

2010-03-23T08:00:00.003-04:00

You must have heard that classic line, reiterated by Jack Black in School of Rock: "Those that can't do, teach. (and those that can't teach, teach Gym)" As someone who is close to a number of people in the education business, it may be fun to laugh at sometimes, but what do we really think about it?

Here is a slam poem (another reason I like this) by Taylor Mali that explains, very well, what teachers make. (I should warn you though--there's a touch o' the language at the very end of the video.) [Poem's full text is here if you want to read along.]

[Tip o' the hat to my friends Eddie and Julianna]

Of Experience

2010-03-22T08:00:00.000-04:00

I used to hate it when people would restrain an explanation of something to "you'll understand when it happens to you," or "someday it will make sense." But as I grow older, it seems to ring true.

So much is dependent on our experiences. Our knowledge, understanding, et cetera, our emotions, sentiments, likes and dislikes. It all has its roots in experience. Only after years of being selfish and ignorant to others' needs can you develop a thought process that includes others' interest before your own.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.--1 Corinthians 13:11

And this passage comes in the context of the "love" chapter, 1 Corinthians 13. Paul doesn't say, when I was a child, I put away childish things. I can only imagine a 4 year old who, when asked by his parents if he wanted to run around play ball, replied with a "No, that's childish--I'd rather run the figures for that board meeting tomorrow."

When you're a kid, you do kiderrific (yes, kiderrific) things because that's what you know, being a kid, after all. And I am all for kiderrificness. I act like a child all the time. Many of you can attest to that. But why is that considered wrong sometimes? Because "I should know better." Why? Because I have had the experience.

You can't expect a 4 year old to write a 5-7 page paper on the Modernist techniques displayed by T.S. Eliot in "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," and no more will it be common for him to think of what others want over his innate desire for running around and Kool-Aid.

But--if you are older, which I'll assume you are because you are reading a blog, then you do have the experience--and should act accordingly. I'm not speaking as someone who's got it down (my friends will concur with me on this one), but I'm thinking about it and I'm trying.

Now go have fun while loving Jesus and others, please.

The Second Coming

2010-03-19T16:00:00.000-04:00

I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't just put that comic there because I thought it was hilarious, and it's only tangentially related to the substance of this post. Now, on to the post.

What's this? "OhmyfreakinggoshT.J.isthebiggesthypocriteever." Why, you may ask? Actually, you're probably not. Either because

A) You know why.
B) You don't care whether or not I am on Facebook.

That's right, after all of my ranting and raving about how evil this social networking entity is, and how if you use it you probably hate everything that is good and pure in this life (I'm pretty sure I said something like that), I'm coming back.

You see, the thing is, it's been one year since I deactivated my account, and it has therefore not been a waste of my time and "just something to do"--the two main reasons I got off in the first place. Plus there are some things that are appealing to me on Facebook:

The sheer number of friends I can connect to on Facebook greatly exceeds the number I can connect to just about anywhere else, especially over long distances.
I can't tell you how annoying it is when someone says "Did you see that picture on Faceboo---oh, no you didn't." No, I didn't. So, seeing pictures is a plus.
Seeing upcoming birthdays and events, instead of hearing about them the day of is a definite plus.
Hopefully I will be able to direct people from my Facebook to this blog, and increase the readership. Maybe. Probably not, but it's worth a shot.

So, to review, I am coming back for people, photos, events, and blog. Just singular blog. I am going to start calling this blog "Blog" now. I will ask people "Did you read Blog today? Blog was funny. I worked hard on Blog." That is all.

Do you think I am hypocritical, or an idiot, or both? Or some other combination of negative monikers?

This Week

2010-03-15T08:00:00.000-04:00

Because it is my Spring Break, and because I am therefore engaged in other activities, I won't be posting much, if at all this week. You probably won't be missing me either. Whatever. Enjoy the week if you're off, sorry if you aren't.

Spring Break

2010-03-12T10:00:00.001-05:00

This is what I am doing for spring break. With the addition of some school work that I am going to straight up hate. And the driving itself is probably not going to be oh so fun. But I can't wait to make it up there.

Of course, naturally I am excited to go to Charleston--it is the best, most beautiful city in the U.S. in my opinion. But up in Virginia I am aware of something else quite beautiful.

15+ hours driving--check. Legitimate reason for such an endeavor--double check.

XP (Experience Points)

2010-03-11T08:00:00.001-05:00

No, not like your favorite video game, or that other one. I'm talking about real life here, yo.

On the one hand, I really really want to be independent and figure things out on my own, (legal documents/taxes, for example), but I will for the time being bow out to my parents' experience in the matter...they've been dealing with the government a lot longer than I have.

I think that is why I call my parents when it comes to decisions about school, jobs, et cetera. Most of the time, they end up just saying "you'll figure it out," or "do what you want," it's just nice to have someone who has dealt with a lot of it tell you that you will be able to make good decisions.

In short, it is nice to have a wealth of experience backing up my lack thereof.

Another Ok Go Video

2010-03-10T08:00:00.000-05:00

Ok Go has done it again. How many music videos are they going to make in one take? It seems to me that this may have become their staple and shining mark, surpassing even the love of their music.

Speaking from someone who does not have any of their music, but highly enjoys their music videos, this seems to be the case. Maybe I should pick 'em up, though?

Hat Tip to Tyler Stanton and Abraham Piper.

Pictures Pertaining to Food

2010-03-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

...in some form or fashion.

From a Cracker Barrel menu a few months ago, this was the background on my phone for a long time:

From the book Serious Drawings by a man who I like to call my friend, Marc Johns. He is an artist I quite like. I can't exactly speak to the truth of this statement regarding my own facial hair:

And finally, a glorious find of one of my roommates. Thank you, mandom, for making this possible, and thank you, internet, for making it easy for find. Who's game for figuring out how to make these and, I dunno, make them!?! I feel like my life is somewhat less complete not having experienced this. Behold, the Bacon Turtle:

Twitter (A Reconsideration)

2010-03-08T08:00:00.004-05:00

Long story short, although not 140 characters short, I've joined Twitter. @mrtimothyjohn if you want to follow me. My justifications for this are severalfold:

I can update from anywhere, which is nice whenever a thought strikes me. Even in class.
It's a place to dump thoughts that aren't quite long enough for this particular venue of communication (my blog).
It's a practice of weening thoughts down to the 140 character maximum. Which is good poetic technique.

The funny thing is I'm wasting a day's post on this blog on something all 7 of you mayhaps don't care about.

What do you think? Are you pro or anti-Twitter, or neither? If you do have a Twitter, hit me up.

Polar War @ The Money

2010-03-05T08:00:00.002-05:00

Wednesday night, after the usual scrumptious ritual of dinner at church and youth group, I took a bit of my free time to go over and see my friends Polar War play a show at The Money, which, you may not know, used to be called "Daddy's Money." I'm pretty sure that increases the creepiness of that place eightfold.

But in spite of the creepiness of the venue, it was a solid show. I really enjoyed hearing the new set they had, with a few songs recognizable from their Edgewood EP.

Will rocked it strong on vocals--there's some serious passion there--along with some bangin' organ (a phrase I'd never thought I'd use) and dat good ole Chaos Box. Don't ask me how that works.

Andy, Josh and Nog nailed the guitars as well. Stage presence was impressive, not static yet not erratic, a good and entertaining blend of the two. Also, background vocals for Nog and Andy were spot-on. Didn't take away from Will's at all, but support 'em all-out, as background vocals should.

And Dave, oh Dave! What can you say about some of the most intense and blasting drum work you've seen in a long time? Maybe that it is some of the most intense and blasting drum work you've seen in a long time. That sounds good. Good word choice, T.J., good job.

In short, if you missed it for schoolwork or not living in Rock Hill or some other lame excuse, then you missed out. Go check them out and buy their EP.

Sunday School Lessons

2010-03-04T08:00:00.001-05:00

This is what we teach the kids in Sunday School at Westminster.

I am not sure the exact correlation. And I definitely don't know the individual who added the blood to the dinosaur. Or put the "Service=" in front of it. Whoever did that is off his rocker.

Dear Lake Erie

2010-03-03T08:00:00.001-05:00

Lake Erie
2009

Hello, Lake Erie,
You and I are something of the same.
You are a Great, I am a great.
Though when put with others, not so great.
You retain water for only a few years;
My fears keep my heart's retention
Often to a few days' time.
Sometimes I fear my fears
Keep me from being a part of some
Grand Paddle-To-The-Sea adventure.
You too were guarded once,
By a proud Iroquois nation,
That is until explorers came
From foreign lands to lay
Claim to your abundance.
What that some far off power
Would lay claim to my protected heart.
I am as shallow as your hundred-meter depth,
Deep--but never deep enough.
How do you deal with never being best!?
You and I, dear Erie.
If we were tested, separated
From those around us, yes--
We would excel! Well,
We would be best, but
Alone.
No, good lake, dear friend,
I think we can both agree
We want to be put with others,
Even if it averages us.

On Books

2010-03-02T08:00:00.001-05:00

A Small Note on Books--

I have noticed that there are a great number of books in my ownership that I have yet to even attempt reading. Likewise, I continue to buy books that will almost immediately and inevitably begin to collect dust on my shelf, in the good company of the aforementioned unread books.

To help solve this most dubious of conundrums, I've made myself a promise that I won't buy a book (short of schoolbooks or some other required reading) unless I first finish a book. Hopefully this will help me to

A) Start reading some of the books I own.

B) Start buying books that I will actually read, as I will be limiting myself in my purchasing opportunities.

What are some of the books I have yet to read, you may ask? Or maybe not, but I'll tell you anyway:

Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell
Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
Vintage Church by Mark Driscoll & Gerry Breshears
Forgotten God by Francis Chan
Why We Are Not Emergent by Kevin DeYoung & Ted Cluck
Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling*

*While I have somewhat renounced my mockery of the Harry Potter series, I do find it repeatedly hilarious that people want me to take the series seriously, when the author's name is "jk."

What do you think of my method?

Related:

What I've been reading in the past.
What I thought about some of those books.

I Made This (For You)

2010-03-01T08:00:00.006-05:00

It is an upgraded version of one that I tried a while back. Which one do you think is better?

Before, I said "It is supposed to be a heart, a semi-nerdy way of illustrating affection." I would like to add that it is finding affection in the ordinary.

When you care about something or for someone (definitely when you care for someone, it's like a drug, a comparison that I'm sure has been made before) it seems to me that you find all manner of things in your everyday experience that adds new meaning, new insight, or new expression to your affection.

It is true when I care for a person/when they care for me, or when I find myself particularly aware of my love for God, or his love for me.

Do you become more aware of illustrations of affection when you have an object of affection?

Sophomoresque Designs

2010-02-26T08:00:00.001-05:00

Back in the good ole sophomore year, I took the required computer science class, and got to choose 3 labs. I choose Photoshop and Illustrator, in addition to the necessary Microsoft Word.

In said class, we were required to make three postcards centering around the same subject. These are what ensued. I would like to apologize in advance for the less than stellar designing. This is more for a laugh than anything else.

The first image was supposed to be advertising for a movie:

And the second was for a book:

And the third was for a play:

Now, as for this last one, would not a Justice League themed musical be one of the greatest things you could ever hope for or imagine? I think yes.

Mousepoint Tracker

2010-02-25T08:00:00.001-05:00

This is a picture of the path my mouse took while I was writing an annotated bibliography this past weekend. (Which, I might add, was one of the worst experiences of my scholastic career).

The lines represent wherever my mouse went, and the dots are wherever it stopped. The bigger the dot, the longer it rested there. A few of those big ones were restroom breaks. And another was when I went downstairs to make a few copies.

It is pretty interesting to see all the points you hit. I did it at work the other day and by far the highest traffic was along the tabs bar in Firefox.

If you want to give it a go, then right click this link and "save target as." Wherever you want. The picture file will save in the same folder you put the above file.

[Tip o' the Hat to Brandon Oxendine and Ryan Hollingsworth]

What I'm Reading

2010-02-24T08:00:00.000-05:00

Praise Habit

Even though I still haven't finished the last thing I said I was reading, and while I do intend to finish it, I have really enjoyed this piece by David Crowder so far. I especially liked his bit on Lectio Divina.

So far I find his psalm responses interesting, not so much insightful. I've essentially been reading it as a quasi-devotional, except at night before I hit the hay. But it is good for sure.

Also, his appendices are very helpful.

It's Too Late to Apologize, George III!

2010-02-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

Just about the funniest things ever to me are the unlikely mixings of contemporary and historical events. I've tossed one at you before, but this one is a tad better, just because it features founding fathers breaking it down in a rock band.

Enjoy.

"To Fetch A Pail"

2010-02-22T08:00:00.001-05:00

What you probably know after reading my blog for o-so-long, is that I am a poet of sorts. What you may not know is that this past semester I took a poetry writing class. The reason you do not necessarily know this is because I have not posted any of my poetry that came out of that class. Now I am remedying this--

To Fetch A Pail
2009

A modern Jack and Jill,
Arduous brother-sister partnership
That climbs in search of water
May find that what the bucket's
Filled with, what they're looking for,
Is not the expected clean and clear.
While trying to construct to
Some sort of paradise,
The bridge we thought we'd built
Across the infinite looks great
But weighs down on our shoulders
As we try to carry it.
Let's try some demolition:
There is a devastating majesty--
A clear, pure stinging to the heart
That can catch you, safe.

Quotage

2010-02-19T08:00:00.001-05:00

"Hello, with a last name like Gundersheim? Jew-town, population: them."
--Tom

"I hate it when I get cold 'cause then I have to pee."
--Caitlin

Stop Animation FTW

2010-02-18T08:00:00.001-05:00

It makes me sad that in the 1+ year I have been in possession of this blog (by Title, at least) I have yet to share with you the wonderfulness that is Rhett and Link.

In this particular video we have a wonderful display of high quality comedy juxtaposed with immaculate stop animation, a particular form of artistry of which I am very fond. [ponder with me, for a moment, the various implications the previous sentence would have if I had typed "found" instead of "fond," an action that almost happened]

Also, the t-shirts are up for grabs at their website, if you want one of the actual t-shirts from the actual video. Cheers.

2010 Winter Olympics Medals

2010-02-17T16:00:00.001-05:00

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt; &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.vancouver2010.com/olympic-medals/" title="Vancouver 2010 Medals"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;View the vancouver2010.com medals' table&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

[click through if you can't see it]

Hello, Cypress Gardens

2010-02-17T08:00:00.002-05:00

I went down to Charleston a few weekends ago to celebrate my birthday with my family, and while I was down there, I took the opportunity to do the photo shoot assigned for my Intro to Photo class. Of the 134 pictures I took, these are the five I weaned it down to:

Apparently, those were not good enough for my professor, as he said I should have picked these two:

Finally, (now that your web browser is screaming "NO MORE IMAGES!") we had to convert our five selected images to black and white:

St. Valentine's Day

2010-02-16T08:00:00.004-05:00

Has St. Valentine's Day reached that oh-so-elusive holiday status where it requires the obligatory post by anyone who considers himself moderately insightful? I feel as thought the very presence of this post on my blog serves as an adequate "yeah."

If you've been sentient within the last 10 years you have probably noticed that a lot of people hate this holiday, especially single people. I'm a little late adding my 3¢ to the discussion (I like to not arrogantly assume that what I have to say is a little more valuable than what others have, the proverbial 2¢, naturally). I just wanted to wait and see that my perceptions during this particular St. Valentine's day remained unclouded by the day's presence.

I think, overall, I am a fan of St. Valentine's Day. Not the movie. People say that it is a completely fabricated holiday for the benefit of Walmart and Hallmark and other sundry companies. I think they have a point. But to hate it on those grounds is not really the solution.

Why not undermine it's very purpose by celebrating it in a manner in which they don't benefit at all? Have a stay at home dinner, or a picnic! Instead of buying cards and flowers, why not write and make your own? Or just go an read the card, and then write it on construction paper! Much more romantic, yes?

St. Valetine's Day at it's uncommercialized core is a holiday for the celebration of love. And if you hate love, you're just a douche bag. So you may say "Why not celebrate love every day?!?" And I'd say "Good question. Probably because everyone hates everyone else or is at least to selfish to care."

It's like this--a birthday is for celebrating someone's birth, essentially, the fact that someone is alive. Now saying that people only care about love on St. Valentine's Day is like saying people don't care about someone being alive except on their birthday. Which actually may be the case. But it's not right.

I say we remedy it in both directions. Love everyone every day. Celebrate love every day. But also recognize that special occasions are bangin' too. (No pun intended).

[picture source]

They're Both There

2010-02-15T08:00:00.000-05:00

While my theological excavations have been somewhat lacking of late, I came across a recent post by Steven Furtick, from the middle of his church-wide undertaking of the entire New Testament in 30 days. He is talking about how often opposing theological viewpoints are both to be found in Scripture. He says,

The sovereignty of God…
and the free will of man.
They’re both in the Bible.

God’s promise to prosper and bless His children…
and the certainty of hardship and suffering in the life of a believer.
They’re both in the Bible.

The mandate to preach the Gospel…
and the responsibility to care for the poor.
They’re both in the Bible.

And he's right. While as a reformed individual, I would like to take the more conservative of each of these viewpoints, I cannot deny the prevalence of seemingly contradictory opposing viewpoints in scripture.

I am often tempted to smooth over those that support free will or social gospel, to explain them away while consolidating and re-affirming the validity of Ephesians 1-2 or Romans 8.

Why do I do this? Easy as pie: because I'm a prideful, arrogant pr*ck. Why do so many people do this? Because pride is #1 favorite pastimes of those who claim humanity as their species of choice. I want to be right, you want to be right, we all want to be right. Except for Jesus, because he is right.

I have been coming to a prolonged epiphany that there is more to God than I used to know. (Surprise, surprise!) Now, I still hold firmly to reformed theology, but I am beginning to see how an unyielding grasp to doctrine often results in an unwillingness to do God's work--namely, loving people.

...more to come in this train of thought at a later date.

Marc Johns' Answer

2010-02-11T08:00:00.002-05:00

Marc Johns, an artist who I have lauded before, has provided society with the answer to a seemingly impossible question:

Bravo, good sir, for providing us with the answer we've always hoped for.

Related:

Time Waster! Yay!

2010-02-10T08:00:00.001-05:00

If you have a couple hours to kill, then I suggest you go check out this time waster. From Tyler Stanton's Weekly Six, this thing is very difficult to explain. I realize I'm not making a good case for you to drop your blog perusing and check it out, but do.

Basically, you click on one of the squares and it starts playing a note in a regular rhythm. Click other notes and it will add them to the sequence in sequence, with similar notes being close together, further notes further apart. Create yourself some rad beats, yo.

Dug Down Deep Video

2010-02-09T08:00:00.002-05:00

I know I have mentioned Josh Harris' new book Dug Down Deep several times, and seems a little hypocritical that I haven't obtained and read it yet, but whatever.

Before the book came out, Josh had a short-film contest about the book, and this is one of the finalists. I like it as an artistic piece and because of what it is saying, a passage from the introduction that struck me before. Enjoy, and if you like it a lot, go vote for it on the website.

Six Word Memoirs

2010-02-08T11:00:00.001-05:00

About a year ago a friend was doing a photography project entitled "Six Word Memoirs," inspired (as far as I can tell) by a certain NPR story and gallery, or, upon further research, this book and this magazine.

Whatever the original source, she asked a group of us to give her a memoir, summed up in exactly six words. No more, no less. This was to be accompanied with our photographic portrait. What I came up with was:

I was born, and then again.

I have tried very hard to match the glory of that precedent. I will continue to try. In the meantime, here are a few others I have done:

My soul clings to the dust.

Life happens a lot. Respond accordingly.

Love is all that I can.

I have fallen for you, miss.

Now, when the same directive was put to others of my friends, here is what was produced:

I want to wear a tie.
I'm so glad that's over with.
It rained yesterday. My umbrella broke.
--Daniel Romanoski

and

I am my mother's flower child.
The world hurts, but he restores.
--Amanda Patterson

It is an interesting exercise. It takes some thought and purpose and often creativity to condense experience to a mere six words. From a poetic point of view, it is a convenient and interesting way to get he most bang for your buck as far as words go.

Now, I know I ask you as readers to do things a lot, or at least ask what you think, but this is a sincere request: please please PLEASE take a tad bit of your time to do this. Boil it down to a "penny for your thoughts" query.

It doesn't have to be a memoir of your whole life, your "singular purpose." It can be for the last year, the last week, the last day--it could even be a memoir of the last hour. Just think about it, and post your Six Word Memoir as a comment.

Fulfillment In Jesus Is A Myth

2010-02-04T08:00:00.000-05:00

That's right, I said it. You will never be fulfilled by Jesus here on earth. If want to hear the explanation to this seemingly heretical statement, you are going to have to watch this video:

From what I understand, this is a major gist of Donald Miller's new book A Million Miles In A Thousand Years. I want to read it, bad. And I agree.

Jesus is the climax of my life, but not while I am here on earth. Not until glory. If he is the climax in this life, then what's with all this troublesome and ridiculous and difficult crap I have to deal with!?! That is no falling action. That's a crappy denouement. And God doesn't do crappy.

Stapled To My Face

2010-02-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

With a good friend undertaking No Shave '09, and my recent visit to Boone, NC--a town I can never visit without appreciating the prevalence and quality of facial hair, I found this particular comic from the webcomic Strangegods especially hilarious:

And it's true: while I must agree with Mark Driscoll that there are a number of "men" in our society that are really just "boys who can shave," I must also concede to Mr. W. Shakespeare when he said "He that hath no beard is less than a man, and he that hath a beard is more than a boy."

Little Boy Blue--Creepy Edition

2010-02-02T11:00:00.000-05:00

In honor of the resumption of Lost for it's final season (thank you J.J. for sticking to a set storyline) I thought it would be a good idea to share this video. Michael Emerson (Ben on Lost) demonstrates the power of voice rather than words in changing the mood of a scene. This is so creepy.

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

2010-02-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

While the controversy is over, and Conan is leaving, and we'll have to wait 8 months to see him again (it's a stipulation in the departure contract), you can at least enjoy this little bit with comedian Louis CK:

I must say I wholeheartedly agree. Even though I get caught up in things like this sometimes, I think it would be awesome if we could shock ourselves out of this type of attitude.

Top 25 Pop Songs of 2009: Mash-Up

2010-01-30T16:00:00.001-05:00

I'm pretty sure I've said it before--if it's well done, it will at least get a hat tip from me. Such is this video. I am not a big fan of a lot of the songs in this mash up, and as a concessions there's a few parts of the video itself I would prefer to go without seeing. But it is well done. And I think it's a good way to round out this music video week. Enjoy:

"In the Valley of the Dying Sun"--House of Heroes

2010-01-30T08:00:00.001-05:00

House of Heroes is probably one of my favorite bands, ever. The reason I like this music video in particular, as opposed to Serial Sleepers, is because I didn't really understand the song until I saw it. But now I know, and knowing is half the battle.

"Doin'"--John Reuben

2010-01-29T08:00:00.000-05:00

There is little to no way to introduce this video. It is pretty amazing. Even if you don't enjoy white Christian hip-hop. Which I'm betting you don't. Still, an underground professional duck-duck-goose competition? Comedic Gold.

"Awakening"--Switchfoot

2010-01-28T08:00:00.000-05:00

I like this song, for one--it's one of my favorites off of "Oh, Gravity." But I like the video for the creativity. Amidst all the love of Guitar Hero and Rock Band, here's a hand-made cardboard adaptation. And the cloth DDR mat? Classy.

I will admit, however, that I don't really understand too well how the song and video connect, as far as message goes. Whatever.

"Let the Beat Build"--Nyle

2010-01-27T08:00:00.000-05:00

What's this? Rap? Secular rap? On T.J.'s blog? Oh my, oh my. Shut up. It's good. And unlike most main-stream rap, there is little to no profanity and it demonstrates some uplifting-ness and good artistry.

Also, this was all done in one take. Audio and video. Beat that, suckahs!

[Tip o' the Hat to Ryan Hollingsworth]

"Serial Sleepers"--House of Heroes

2010-01-26T18:00:00.000-05:00

I was going to try to keep it to one post per day, but I couldn't help myself once I saw this video again.

Enjoy.

"Work"--Jars of Clay

2010-01-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

I have long been a fan of this song. I'm actually surprised that I haven't shared this music video before. Because I like it.

Also, it's a one-take video. And it's good. If you click through to YouTube then you can read the lyrics as well.

"This Too Shall Pass"--OK Go

2010-01-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

I am a big fan of things well done. The following video is well done. You must remember way back when OK Go shot their famous meme-ish video in one take? You don't? Ah, well. Here is another amazing piece. And I am fairly sure it was shot in one take as well:

[Tip o' the Hat to Ryan Hollingsworth]

Music Week...of Videos

2010-01-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

First. I don't post on Sundays...except sometimes. So that's why this is at 12:01. And so it's before all the videos.

This week will consist completely of musical related posts. Really, just music videos that I have enjoyed. Unless I change my mind. Whatevs. Enjoy.

How to Tell People They Are Wrong

2010-01-22T08:00:00.000-05:00

Because I am very often right (chime in your dissent here) but go about telling people they are wrong in the (ironically) wrong way, I think that this is an appropriate comic:

Do respond.

[Tip o' the Hat to my housemate Joel and Basic Instructions]

Something I Made

2010-01-21T13:00:00.001-05:00

It is supposed to be a heart, a semi-nerdy way of illustrating affection.

My 21st Birthday

2010-01-21T08:00:00.001-05:00

Was this past Monday, the 18th, and was so momentous they gave me the day off from school and work. At least that's what people told me.

So, two out of three is not bad in my book (anyone care to guess which two?) But the day was definitely made that much better by a good friend's presence and going to see The Princess and the Frog.

I had thought about just letting go that Martin Luther King Jr. Day was on my birthday, I mean, there are enough people celebrating it enough already, right? Well, I took the time to sit and watch/listen to the entire speech. And it's powerful stuff. To tell the truth, it was the first time I had listened to the whole thing. I recommend you do it, if you never have.

Switching gears. Yes, I had myself some alcohol. Yes it was my first time. No, I actually didn't really enjoy it. I plan on trying some again. Maybe a Lemon Drop and a Rum & Coke wasn't the best place to start? I am open to your suggestions. Seriously. I have no idea what I am doing around a drink menu.

And that, was that.

Something That Lasts Forever, Like A Greeting Card

2010-01-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

The other night I caught the tail end of (500) Days of Summer, a film, you may recall, that I quite liked. It takes a special class of movie to blow your mind each time you see it. I spent the last half hour leaning murmuring "So good!" over and over again as each new scene came.

I think part of the reason I loved it so much was, as someone pointed out, it is one of a rare class of movies: a romantic comedy, surrounding a breakup, from the man's point of view, where he feels utterly screwed over. And it was well done along the way.

Plus the things it has to say about love and fate are pretty cussin' fantastic. I like it because of it's plentiful points yet lack of singular resolution. Good stuff, good stuff indeed.

I am not even joking when I say that it may be one of my favorite films ever. And it's a romantic comedy? Who'da thunk it? If you have not seen this film, then that is an error in your judgment that needs to be fixed.

Covenant Theology. Ish.

2010-01-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

I don't really find this irreverent. (Please tell me if you disagree). Maybe a little racist? But everyone's a little bit racist. Stereotypes are a real time saver.

Moving on--I do appreciate the irony of the covenant coming up for renewal:

Once, again, the Onion delivers comedic gold.

On a more serious note, though, I find it interesting that most people in modern culture find it difficult to grasp the concept of an everlasting covenant, or a bond of the sort. Just look out how the word covenantal has fallen out of use. My spellchecker is even telling me it isn't a word as I type this.

Why do you think people don't take the idea of a covenant seriously?

The Tonight Show Controversy

2010-01-15T08:00:00.000-05:00

In case you were wondering, or you were preparing to amass the battle lines. As Paste Magazine pointed out, I don't think there really is an "I'm with NBC crowd."

I do understand how NBC probably invest a good bit of money in Leno, but that doesn't make canning Conan a smart move.

Personally, from what I've seen, more entertainers and more people are leaning for the O'Brien side of things. He just seems more collected about the whole ordeal, more tactful, and, what really counts when it comes to entertainment, funnier.

Avatar vs. Pocahontas

2010-01-14T08:00:00.000-05:00

Now, I really enjoyed Avatar, but this is hilarious. Just the fact that they could only change proper nouns and cross out the word "nearly" to get the exact same storyline cracks me up, and reinforces my conclusion that the plot was a tad cliché.

[Click to Enlarge]

Mario Bros. Plumbing

2010-01-13T08:00:00.000-05:00

What if the Mario Brothers really owned a plumbing business? I understand there is a documentary about such an occurrence, but this is pretty funny in and of itself:

And ending with the paper route? Good stuff.

Historic Chucktown

2010-01-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

Above is Francis Marion, a.k.a the "Swamp Fox," a South Carolinian, American Revolutionary War general, upon whom Mel Gibson's "Patriot" character was loosely based.

A week ago I had a chance to go to downtown Charleston to the Old Exchange Building/Provost Dungeon. It was pretty interesting to stand in the same building:

Where 49 pirates were imprisoned in 1719 before being hanged by the City of Charleston that same year.
That was the last building built by the British in the Colonies before the American Revolution.
Where 3 of the 4 South Carolinian signers of the Declaration of Independence were imprisoned by the British.
Where South Carolina was the 8th state to ratify the U.S. Constitution.
Where George Washington stayed for about a week when he visited South Carolina in 1791.

While I'd never peg myself as a "history buff," I do enjoy the stuff. It's just pretty bangin' to stand in the same room where Gen. George-daggum-Washington stood. Sort of overpowering in a sense.

Brit Hume--The Next Christian Hero?

2010-01-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

After witnessing the blind, idiotic support that many Christians lent Carrie Prejean after her same-sex marriage answer to a Miss USA pageant question, I wonder if what Brit Hume had to say about Tiger Woods need for redemption will cause him to be exalted to quasi-martyrdom status? He and Bill O'Reilly discuss:

He seems much more calculated and level headed about the whole comment and idea than Ms. Prejean was (and probably still is) about her statement. I do think he said the right thing, I just hope that Christians don't make him a modern day Stephen.

Another interesting thing to think about is why all the negative feedback? There is the reason he gives, which is Biblical, but does that really make sense in a society that expounds the rights of free speech? I think not. But do you think so? Or think not?

For My Birthday

2010-01-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

For my birthday, I don't want a party, I don't have a specific gift that will make the day.

I think all I want is

To have a taste of some alcoholic beverage that I buy and am carded for.

To drink an entire bottle of Welch's Sparkling Grape Juice.

And to give someone a kiss.*

*as someone will most likely disrupt the honesty of this post by calling into question the gender neutral term "someone," I assure you my desire is for a female recipient.

Up in the Air

2010-01-07T08:00:00.001-05:00

I went and saw this flick with some friends in Chucktown Sunday night, and I really enjoyed it. I was telling a few different people that I wouldn't be surprised or upset if it swept the Oscars.

I think one of my favorite parts was something that many filmmakers have started successfully pulling off more and more--non-resolution.

That's right, a lack of resolution. Sure, they point you in the right direction with the meaning, but there is enough left unanswered that you really have to take in what you saw and marry it to you own experience to complete the purpose of the film.

In that particular film, the two main characters, Ryan and Natalie, have very different ideas of what it means to live, to enjoy life, and to love. Different people will assuredly agree with one of the other, and I think many want to side with Natalie's more hopeful, traditional sense. Ryan's life is, appropriately, not painted in the best light.

Even then, though, you can see in Natalie how Ryan's lifestyle, in the very least, can give you some pointers on how to maintain your own.

I won't ruin the movie, but I highly recommend it. Go see it and tell me what you think.