candeo

Name:
Location: NYC, United States

Friday, April 20, 2007

bye bye Facebook

I've filed for separation from Facebook.
No hard feelings, but I don't know if I'll go back yet.

It was great to 'connect', especially to long lost friends. But I'm not sure if you can call brief messaging spells and occasional wall-writing 'connecting'. It's definitely good for PR.

But I just found myself getting stupidly petty, and sucked into things I'd best not get sucked into.

Who knows? I could sign back up again, tomorrow, maybe.

I'm happy with blogging.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

NYBG Orchid Show




Friday, April 06, 2007

Good Friday

On my way to Good Friday service,
I passed by a man who stepped up to a garbage can,
pulled out a foam Dunkin Donuts cup,
peeled off the lid,
peaked inside,
swirled the contents around,
and started to drink.

When I replay the scene in my head,
I imagine pulling out two dollars,
and taking him to a coffee shop, so he could have his own cup.
Even if he was an unrepentant drunken, drugged out, rotten guy.

In response to the question, "What is wrong with the world?"
G.K. Chesteron's written reply (in essence),

"Dear Sirs,

I am what is wrong with the world.

G.K. Chesteron."

Monday, April 02, 2007

churchy chit chat

What, usually, are the first words out of your mouth after a Sunday service?

Lately, I’ve had this nagging feeling that the ones I’ve been using aren’t quite the best ones. For a long time now, the first words out of my mouth after Sunday service tend to be, “So whaddya think of the sermon?” “That band was really good today. That guy on the piano is amazing!” “I thought her testimony was ok. It felt kinda wooden.” “Where are we going for lunch?”

Does this kind of post-church chit-chat sound familiar? It feels totally normal to discuss the pros and cons of a church service like this, except that lately, I’ve had this nagging feeling about it all. The nagging feeling asks me what I’ve come to church for in the first place. This is not a movie. It’s not a Broadway show. But I have basically appointed myself as a kind of Siskel and Ebert stuck with the Sunday morning shift because throughout the entire program, there I am, judging the layout of the bulletin, the oratory skills of each person with the nerve to stand up at the podium, the skill and style of the band, and of course, the worthiness of the sermon.

Something rotten is going on here. There’s clearly something lodged in my heart, and no doubt egged on by our culture, that encourages me to be tirelessly critical, constantly evaluating everything around in endless, judgmental chatter. But while some kind of critical filter may be ok, even healthy in some ways, as I watch television, listen to the Top 40, or read the latest best-sellers; I’m pretty sure that I should approach church with an entirely different attitude. At church, I am not the final authority on what is good and what is not, I’ve got it backwards.

Before I even open my mouth after service, shouldn’t I give thanks that I can attend church freely without fear of imprisonment or persecution? Before I ask my friends what they thought of the band leader’s outfit, shouldn’t I ask myself whether I opened my heart to receive and be renewed by God’s word? Whether I looked my neighbors in the eye and greeted them with the love that Jesus says will show to the world we are Christians?

The things I’m saying right after Sunday service show clearly that I’ve bought into the seductive idea, exploited to perfection by our consumerist, materialist, individualist culture, that my tastes are what matters. I have been crowned connoisseur of all things, even God.

I know there’s a “but wait!” argument here. Surely, God gives us critical faculties to detect when things in church are really off track from God’s will and way. Yep, I’m sure God does. But I’m mostly never using those critical faculties on behalf of God, just on behalf of me.

Father, I confess that my attitude towards church is backwards. Help me turn my heart away from things that matter to people, to things that matter to you