Friday, November 28, 2008

BLACKED OUT

Today my blog is blacked out, in mourning for the rampant materialism, idolatry and greed that will be cheered on today, in the name of a Bargain.
Please stand with me as I mourn Greed-Celebration-Day, otherwise known as "Black Friday".
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Monday, November 24, 2008

Holidays



The Holiday season is upon us.
And hopefully, that will mean that I can return to regularly posting.
I have a series of doctrinal posts, on topics ranging from "missional" to the roles of women in church, is in the works.
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Thursday, November 13, 2008

CCEF Conference 2008


I am currently skipping work and classes to go to the Annual Christian Counseling and Education Foundation Conference in Valley Forge, PA.
The one pre-conference session I am attending is by David Powlison on being a "Wise Counselor".
So far, he's been awesome. (And I don't say that lightly)
Tonight I get to have dinner with some of the church family from my home church, and spend some quality time with my dad...
For an actual live blog of the conference, check out Tara Barthel's liveblog.
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Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A War Song

From an actor portraying a chaplain in Korea, commenting on Vietnam...
I think this war song rightly critiques a lot about our current climate...



The Lyrics are as follows...
There's no one singing war songs now like people used to do,
No "Over There,"
no "Praise the Lord,"
no "Glory Hallelu."
Perhaps at last we've asked ourselves what we should have asked before,
With the pain and death this madness brings,
what were we ever singing for?

Amen
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Friday, November 7, 2008

A New President, A New Direction..?



November 4th, 2008 was an historic day in the story of American Politics.
The first non-white politician was elected as President of our Nation.
Contrary to the oppinions of some, I think the Obama Presidency will be good for America.
While I did not vote for him personally, because of a moral disagreement I have with some of his policies, I look forward to some of the changes he will make.
It is time to stand behind the new President and work with him in resolving some of this country's problems.
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The Vision?

The vision is Jesus: obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.
You see bones? They are an army.
And they are free from materialism. They laugh at the markets.
They hardly care! They wear clothes like costumes:
to show and to tell, but never to hide.
They know the meaning of the Matrix; the way the West was won.
They are mobile like the wind; they belong to the nations.
They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free, yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes children laugh and adults break and cry.
It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.
This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to lose that they might win, one day
the great "Well done" of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night.
They don't need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards
and hear the crowds chanting again and again: "COME ON!"

And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history shaping
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is screaming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing...
This is the sound of the underground.

And the army is disciplined.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrades at arms.
The tattoo on their backs boasts "For me to live is Christ and to die is gain."
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their eyes.
Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them?
Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them?
And this generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond
talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears
Waiting. Watching: 24 - 7 - 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules.
Shaking mediocrity from its cozy little hide.
Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs,
laughing at labels, fasting essentials.

The advertisers cannot mold them.
Hollywood cannot hold them.
Peer-pressure is powerless
to shake their resolve
Material clothes matter not
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives,
swap seats with the man on death row;
guilty as hell.
A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears,
with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God
and live as if it all depends on them.


Their words make demons scream in shopping malls.
Don't you hear them coming?
Here come the frightened and forgotten, with fire in their eyes.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history shaping
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is screaming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing...
This is the sound of the underground.