Plot

Yesterday I wrote about some wrong assumptions I’d made about contemporary, seeker-sensitive megachurches. To follow-up, I thought I’d explain some of what I’ve fallen in love with during my time around Southland and Crossroads.

I love free coffee. I mean, I really love it. I know at first it may seem like a waste to spend thousands of dollars and hours on something that’s not “ministry-related,” but it’s actually one of my favorite parts of going to church on the weekends. For me, coffee is much more than a drink. It’s a pivotal part of breakfast with my family. Most of my great friendships were built around it. Coffee, I think, communicates two things: community and welcome. It says, “we want you here.” (And, consequently, “God wants you here.”) Hospitality is a grace many of us have lost sight of, and I love being part of a church that extravagantly invests in making people feel at home. It’s just a reflection of God’s unreserved love.

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Plot

I love the Church. I don’t know if anything so broken has ever been so beautiful. We get so much wrong, and always have. But, looking back through history, the most astonishing thing, I think, is how much we’ve gotten right. The people of God, the Body of Christ, pursuing him and bringing redemption to the world — it’s breathtaking. I’m honored to be part of this community that spans centuries, nations, subcultures, and opinions.

I can be arrogant at times, and I used to be very arrogant toward most of the Church. It wasn’t completely conscious, but I assumed if you didn’t fit into the small circle I did, you probably just didn’t love Jesus as much as me. I cringe even writing that, but I really treated other Christ-followers that way. Jesus broke my heart over that during college, but for a long while I had one prejudice left: I was anti-megachurch.

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Allusion

Well, I can’t think of a better way to end Blog Wars 2012 than with a guest post from one of the more insightful people I’m honored to call “friend.” Kelcie brings both intelligence and warmth to any conversation, and her thoughts here on the beauty and complexity of being human are no exception. I will also add my hearty recommendation that you read Marilynne Robinson — one of several artists who have been added to my list of “favorites” after Kelcie’s endorsement.

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Soliloquy

Will you come?
If, at 2 am, my eyes light up
Because sleep has flown, but the stars are bright
And beckon watchers,
Will you come?
When, at early light, the back road calls,
And we had no plans, but the time is right
For small adventures,
Will you come?
Now, at moment’s nudge, to run away
For an hour or so, will you come despite
Our fancied oughts?
Will you come?
Or, better still, oh, precious thought!
Will you take my hand, your own eyes bright,
And say, “let’s go”?

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An Aside

Growing up is awesome. I love where I am in life, even though my looming 26th birthday puts me closer to 30 than feels possible. I guess I’m a bit of a late bloomer, because I feel like I’m still blooming. I really didn’t start coming into my own until college, and now, in my mid-twenties, I’m starting to feel more settled and relaxed in who I am.

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Allusion

Last week, I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula for an online class I’m taking with my friends Cory and Dustin (also known as “Dut” for reasons yet unknown to me). I tried to read it a couple summers ago, but I got so scared I could only read outside, in broad daylight, and finally I gave up all together. (I think I picked up The Shack instead … not my finest literary moment.) This time, though, I pushed through, even though I nearly bit my nails off. I mean, what would I tell Cory and Dut if I didn’t finish? They are boys, you know, and I didn’t want to come off like a frightened little girl.

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Plot

Each morning on my 5-minute commute, I get caught behind a truck that waters the flower baskets hanging from every telephone pole on the town’s main roads. Rumor has it, taking care of those flowers is a full-time, city-paid job. This is small town living, where my tax dollars go toward plant care instead of food for the drug dogs. Isn’t that fantastic?

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Soliloquy

Blog Wars rules require each warrior to guest post at least once on each of the competition blogs. Today, I welcome Warrior Cory of A Multitude of Drops. I met Cory about a year ago now, when he was introduced to me as one half of “The Boys.” While initially just friends of my roommate, I’m happy to say I’ve bonded with both Cory and Dustin (the other “boy”) over Killer Bunnies, Josh Hutcherson, and now Gothic literature. Cory’s varied interests and his keen intelligence make him a worthy opponent, indeed. In a move that was either genius or cheap, he spoofed my earlier post, reminding us that airline employees aren’t the only one who have it rough:

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Soliloquy

From 2006-2011, I was a proud employee of Delta Airlines. My mama just had her 14th anniversary with Delta, and my big brother did a stint as a ramp agent in college, so it’s about the closest thing we have to a family business. (Other than being right. And awesome.) I loved working for Delta. The airport was such a fun environment, my coworkers were AWESOME, and passengers were easy enough to deal with … most of the time. Let’s just say some people get, um, hostile when they’re traveling. It’s alright though. At some point in her life, every woman needs to be called an ugly **** **** for no apparent reason, right? Character building.

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An Aside: On Writing

The other day my wonderful sister-in-law asked for my top ten writing tips. Well, as my fellow blog-warrior has pointed out, I love knowing things. Me? Share advice? You betcha. But really, while I can’t speak for my own work, lots of reading and a great education have given me a feel for what makes good writing. I am, of course, happy to join in a long tradition of writing about writing. These are the standards I remind myself of and some of the most common issues I find when I’m editing. Obviously this list isn’t exhaustive, and I’m thinking primarily of creative, rather than academic or journalistic writing. Starting with the most important, in case I lose people along the way:

1. Know that your words are shadows of the Word. Yes, I’m going to get a bit abstract. I really believe great work flows from a sound theology, or at least a philosophy, of art. John’s Gospel tell us Jesus is the Word, the Reality to which all words ultimately point. The Word was the agent of creation (John 1:3), and when we write, when we create, we are reflecting Him and participating in redemption. Think about it — to write is, in a small way, to bring order from chaos. On my best days, I sit down to write knowing I’m taking up a sacred task. The words matter, deeply. Understanding this, I can tell you, changes everything.

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