I'm joining the masses in declaring that Juno was absolutely wonderful.

Jeffrey Overstreet was worried that Christians would exploit it as a pro-life movie, rather than seeing it for the wonderful movie it was. But after seeing it, I think it's a little too far above their heads to be used in that way. Sure, it's a nice peripheral theme that can be discussed, but there are too many other things going on, I think, for it to be boiled down that much, even as hard as some Christians might try.

I, on the other hand, am worried Juno is getting labeled as a teen comedy. I assume because of Michael Cera's earlier performance in Superbad, high schools across the nation are thinking Juno is the next hilarious movie filled with penis jokes. Maybe it's the similarity in plot to Superbad's relative Knocked Up that drew them out on opening night.

Whatever the case, I was extremely surprised to be sitting in a sold out theater where the mean age was probably no higher than 20. Rarely do Erica and I feel like the OLD ones in the theater. Surely these kids are not seeing Juno because they've heard great things about the screenplay, or because they're simply huge fans of Arrested Development, or they've seen Jason Reitman's previous work and have found him to create very intelligent comedies.

I'm wondering what their reactions were. If you were looking for a teen comedy, there was very little satisfaction to be found. A lot of this, I'm guessing, went over their heads. I'm not saying they couldn't enjoy it, I'm sure they did. But I don't think the majority of them could appreciate it.

Am I sounding pretentious? Maybe.

All I'm saying is, if you were planning to pass Juno by because it's just another teen comedy: don't. It's not a teen comedy.

The screenplay is brilliant. The characters are wonderful. The soundtrack is charming. The story is heartfelt. The humor is intelligent. It's a good movie.

It felt like Little Miss Sunshine without being contrived. It felt like Junebug without the quirk. It felt like Knocked Up without the raunch.

It felt like perfection!

We went to bed around 1:30 AM.

It's 6:50 AM now, and I'm wide awake.

Do I wake up Erica by jumping up and down on the bed? Or do I sit patiently in the livingroom staring at presents, waiting for her to wake up on her own?

It's the story of my life. I'm 24 years old, but things are no different than when I was 10.

Micah 5:4-5
He will stand and shepherd his flock
in the strength of the LORD,
in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God.
And they will live securely, for then his greatness
will reach to the ends of the earth.

And he will be their peace.

---

Eph 2:13-14
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ.

For he himself is our peace,

who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.

---

We throw this word peace around an awful lot, but rarely do we pause to think about what it truly means or looks like, and rarely do we truly experience it, or if we do, we aren't realizing it.

In these days, may we pause to reflect on Christ as our peace, the only source of the shalom our world is searching for, and in our own lives, may we truly sense his peace that surpasses our understanding.

And so, Erica and I wish you a very merry and meaningful Christmas!

Don't have time to listen to all 36 streamed entries over at Asthmatic Kitty like you're a teacher enjoying a Christmas vacation with all of his shopping finished already? Don't worry, I've done all the work for you. Here are the highlights you should be sure to check out...

(Go to AK website, click on AKRadio at the top of the page.)

There are three I keep coming back to:
Oh The Sun's "A New Empire is Underway..." strikes a major chord with me. All at once beautiful and quirky, awkward and charming, it made my jaw drop the first time I heard it, and then I giggled with excitement and wanted to jump around the house with joy.

I had a similar reaction to Yoyoyo Acapulco's song in a foreign tongue. Of course, the ukulele, accordion, and backup kids are surefire ways to get my attention. And his voice sounds very familiar to a French artist Erica and I discovered over the summer.

La Strada's "Noel (A Love Song)" is close to being a masterpiece. Maybe they just make me feel good because I think they might be the only ones who spent more time making their song than I did. It sounds like they've got a full orchestra in their livingroom. It's wonderful. I'm sure the odd time signatures were hard for Sufjan to ignore. He had to resist this one pretty hard. A valiant effort, indeed.

And the others that catch my attention are:
-Castledoor's "Leave it on the Sleigh" is a really great pop tune.
-The Choir at Your Door is pretty.
-Candy Claws' "Snowdrift Wish" intrigues.
-The Palace Flophouse's "Emily" works only because it's so short.
-Left with Pictures' "Where were you this Christmas?" is hip, jazzy, sassy, and loveable.
-Karli Fairbanks has a nice voice and her song has a nice beat.
-Cocoon is pretty catchy.
-Nathan Phillips has some nice subtle fretwork going on. Pretty without trying too hard.

Joel Rakes, on the other hand, thought John Mayer was running this contest. When he found out it was actually Sufjan, he thought he could still enter by adding a banjo in the background. The title to his song was the first clue. As much as I don't prefer it, it really could be a smash hit on college radio right away. Now, High, Meek & Mighty is in a similar category, but it's pulled off much more nicely, leaning more towards a Richard Swift b-side.

Mark's favorite entry, of course, is Band LeGrand's "Merry Merry Christmas." I'd be impressed if it wasn't done completely in midi. It's a nice fun song, but there isn't one real sounding instrument there!

So, when you're wrapping presents tomorrow, pull your laptop up close and stream these songs. It's interesting and laughable to notice how many people tried to win Sufjan over by using a banjo in their songs. And the whole thing, as Sufjan himself writes, is indeed a fascinating sociological project.

Much praise to AK for their continual creativity and gusto, particularly this time of year.

Fun Fact:

I picked up the 1978 edition of the Guinness Book of World Records today. I happened to notice just now that the longest recorded solo guitar playing marathon was 200 hours and 2 minutes, set by a guy in July of 1978.

Where did it happen?

Marion, Indiana.

This holiday season marked the first year I received gifts as a teacher.

My first year I received one card: a piece of white printer paper folded in half with the words "Merry Christmas" scrawled in pencil on the front. Last year that was upgraded to one real card with a precious little note written inside.

I knew Christmas gifts were part of the deal at this new school. I was even under the (not quite true) impression that it would nearly make up for the pay cut I'd be taking. So, while I was obviously excited, I don't think I was quite ready for the bizarre and overwhelming experience it would turn out to be.

After the kids left Wednesday afternoon, I packed up all the presents into three different bags. I had to go get my car and pull it up to the building, making three trips to load everything. And as soon as I got home, I opened each one.

But I call it bizarre and overwhelming because the experience brought on a full range of mixed emotions. Gratitude and greed, excitement and shame, happiness and humility, pleasure and regret.

It was truly overwhelming to be surrounded by such a large pile of presents while thinking of the kids I left last year. And while some of the "lack of presents" in years past obviously has to do with the wide economic difference between demographics, I realized as I was opening that it has just as much--if not more---to do with the importance of education in each demographic. Some of the kids I taught in previous years could have afforded presents. But the sad truth of the matter is they and their parents would never think to show gratitude to their teachers. School is not looked upon as an important and valuable opportunity, something for which to be appreciative, but rather as an inconvenient obligation, something to begrudgingly accept as a part of life for the time being.

And that is what became most overwhelming in this process of receiving, carrying, loading, unloading, and opening presents. I was humbled by the fact that these kids and their parents saw me as deserving of a token of gratitude. I was overwhelmed by the fact that I am an important and appreciated influence in the lives of over 50 children.

All of a sudden it didn't matter so much what the gifts were. How many others can say they receive gifts from 50 different people at Christmastime?

What a scary and humbling privilege and honor! And what a sad contrast to years past.

NEWSFLASH: Sufjan Stevens and AK have finally posted the results of their Christmas Contest.

Sadly, with competing against 600 other entries, none of us are mentioned anywhere. But be sure to check it out anyway!

I have yet to listen to all the 36 streamed entries, but I really am loving the winning entry. It's very very nice.

For some reason, I really liked reading this this morning...

He loved to get outside and would run barefoot through the grass. Vodka he drank in moderation, and his favourite food was simple country fare with his greatest luxury a slice of sausage in a bread roll.

You can tell a lot about a man by the way he shovels snow.

It's a snow-day of sorts, and Erica and I are both feeling a tad bit sick. We're trying to make the most of it, progressing on Christmas gifts and other projects, but things like naps and tv-on-the-internet have been stealing our attention. I really must at least get to grading a few papers. Looks like our road has been plowed now, so that gives us a little more motivation to get out.

Anyway,

Here is a nice advent reflection.

If it hasn't already come and gone from your local hole-in-the-wall indie joint, be sure to catch Lars and the Real Girl. It's worth it. It's a charming little thing that becomes a lovely little advent reflection of its own. There are a lot of similarities to other movies (Punch-Drunk Love, Stranger Than Fiction, Junebug, About Schmidt, and even this year's Dan in Real Life, I think), really any movie that stars a slightly peculiar lead character, but it has enough bizarre uniqueness to stand on its own.

Still no word from Asthmatic Kitty...but Sounds Familyre is posting their very own collection of music songs for their roster's artists. Free! It's pretty nice so far. Half-Handed Cloud is sweet as always, Dan Zimmerman is nice, and I absolutely love the Soul-Junk song.

Last night I broke out the saxophone for the youth group's 50's party. Wes Checkeye and the Drive-Ins cranked out quite a few hits, and I was glad to join them as always. I honestly cannot tell you the last time I touched that saxophone. I have no idea. It came back considerably quickly though, and boy did it feel nice to have it back in my hands.

That's all the random thoughts for now. If I can muster up the focus, I'll crank out another post or two before this snowday is through.

Asthmatic Kitty announces the winner this weekend, so we need to distribute these to all our friends before one of them becomes their property. Thanks to Jamin for hosting these mp3s; I believe if you click on them you can listen, and if you want to save them and download them, you can do that also.

I spent a lot of time this week fixing Mark's and mixing it properly. I'm pleased with the outcome, but I regret it's not the version being judged. Erica's is not completely finished, either. There's some work to be done on her's, and that's what I'll start working on next. When I finish that, I'll post the new version. That is, of course, if AK doesn't own it by then.

So here you go. Enjoy...

Mark's submission: Doc Evans and the In-Laws - The Greatest Day
Wesley's submission: Addison - Holiday Cheer
Erica's submission: Asterjoy - Christmas Toys for Everyone

Our going-on-five-year-old nephew Logan stopped by our house last night. I'm still not quite sure how the conversation got started, but we eventually told him that one of Santa's workshops
was on the third floor of our apartment building, right above our apartment. His eyes grew huge and lit up, and from there on out every sound he heard was a "waindeer" or santa himself. This was very exciting news.

And so, somewhere along the way, Logan and Taylor decided they needed to venture up to the 3rd floor. We warned them that if Santa saw us, they'd land on his naughty list for sure. But Logan was driven forward, half by Christmas magic and half by his love for Scooby Doo and curiosity of all things "spoooky." So we ventured up the stairs as quietly as possible.

Logan tip-toed all the way up to our neighbors' two doors on the 3rd floor.

Ever so quietly, he looked from me to the door, back to me and back to the door again with wide eyes and a big grin.

He tiptoed closer, leaned forward, and placed his ear against Abby's door. He looked back at me with an even bigger grin and even wider eyes.

I pointed to the old-fashioned keyhole on the door and pointed to my eye. With little hesitation, he crouched down and peered through.

Suddenly, something clicked in all four of us, where we finally realized what we were doing and the danger of it, and we sprinted loudly back down the stairs with lots of giggles.

Logan gave his parents in a full report back in our livingroom.

He saw a "wed" suit, walking across the "woom." It was SANTA. It was him. And he promises he's not lying.

And so, I told him to go home and plan a little expedition to explore Santa's workshop a bit more. I talked to his Dad a little earlier tonight, and apparently the plans are all drawn up already.

Abby, if you happen to be reading this, I hope you're not freaked out by this. We're also going to need to stage a Santa's workshop party within the next few weeks. You in?

The latest installment in Mr. Shorb's series of quotes was given today, taken from G.K. Chesterton in his introduction of Orthodoxy.

"Even a bad shot is dignified when he accepts a duel."

I let the kids interpret it and write a short reflection. They seemed to like this one a lot better than Franz Wright, and admittedly, it is a nice counterpart to that poem. They balance each other out nicely.

One girl wrote, "This is a very good quote, and I am glad to know it. G.K. Chesterton was a very clever guy."

Yes!

Besides that, the students are responsible for memorizing the lyrics to Once in Royal David's City, mostly in preparation for the upcoming Christmas concert. I had them singing along with Sufjan Steven's version this morning, and half of the them were dancing around the room.

I'll have these kids brainwashed in no time! They already enjoy working quietly with Six Parts Seven playing in the background. Next I'll show them Winged Migration and Microcosmos! Then I'll have them write screenplays to accompany songs by Explosions in the Sky! By the end of the year, I'll introduce them to Icelandic instrumental ensembles, musical saws, and theremins! Slowly but surely!

I have an uncanny knack for picking the wrong film to watch when going to the movies alone.

Erica was away at school today, and I decided to see a matinee by myself. I chose No Country For Old Men. I'm not sure what I'll need to do to detox from that one, but it's going to take a while.

I talked to Erica briefly about it, and told her how dark and depressing it was. She remembered me saying the same thing when I saw a movie alone a couple years back. It took us a while to remember which it was, but then it clicked...

Million Dollar Baby.

Yikes.

If I had to do our wedding over again, and wasn't concerned about confusing or disheartening people, I would do two things.

First, I would go through with that mewithout you quote I wanted to use, about intending to be failures in this world.

Second, I would have someone sing this ballad.


Pending Erica's approval, of course.

I'm trying to curb the unhealthy degrees of perfectionism in my classroom. It's no easy task.

And it's a laughable goal compared to what I was facing in the past. I would have killed for just one good perfectionist in just one of my classes. Was that too much to ask? And now I've got way too many of them.

So I remembered a poem a friend shared with me once. It's a short little ditty by Franz Wright.
I loved this poem the minute I saw it, how it instills a deep sense of comforting grace in its simplicity.

I decided to do an experiment, and I showed it to the class. I had them copy it down in their journals. We discussed what its meaning might be, concluding that he wasn't talking only about baseball, and settling on the familiar paraphrase, "Nobody's perfect." I saw some disconcerted looks and decided to keep asking questions. What's he trying to do here? I asked. One girl explained he was encouraging and comforting us, like when you get a bad grade on a test, it's OK because nobody's perfect.

She was getting it. But nobody else was.

Several kids protested, saying this was discouraging and depressing, and claiming Mr. Wright was destroying all dreams of perfection we've ever had. He must be a cynic! Why try, now that he's told us we can't be perfect?! What's the point?!

Since they were so adamant in believing this, I asked them to edit the poem, making their own version of the poem to improve its message.

Some kids were getting there, adding a line beforehand like, "Always try for perfection, but if you don't make it, it's ok, because..." I can approve of that.

Another kid wrote something like, "Nobody's perfect, but YOU can change that." Yikes. That one I can't approve.

An interesting experiment. I'll let you draw your own conclusions. But it's no wonder we have such a hard time accepting grace or realizing our need of it.

I just found this blast from the past on YouTube:

The past 2 days have been absolutely consumed by the Great Sufjan Xmas Xchange contest sponsored by our friends at Asthmatic Kitty.

The contest? Submit a Christmas song. If it's the winner, Asthmatic Kitty gets the rights to your song, and in return, you get the rights to a never-heard-before song by Sufjan Stevens.

Erica told me Thursday morning that she was determined to write and record a song for the contest. I got a call as I was leaving school on Thursday afternoon that my brother-in-law Mark also wanted to record a song. All of a sudden I was recruited to be the producer for two different songs to be finished in two days and submitted by midnight tonight.

Mark's song went quickly. It's a hilarious rip-roaring rocker, complete with piano, drums, bass, electric guitar, sleigh bells, and trombone.

Erica's song developed a little more slowly. It's a slightly sardonic commentary on Christmas consumerism completed with my office full of toys: guitar, bass, snare drum, sleigh bells and shaker, accordion and desk bells.

As if this job wasn't enough to fill the day, we went and got our Christmas tree this morning. Then we went to see my niece Taylor in the Nutcracker. I got home around 4:00 and haven't left the couch since. It's been, quite literally, nine hours straight.

The worst part is, neither one was completely finished. But I sent what I had as close to midnight as possible. We'll see what happens from here.

Now it's time to clean up. Instruments are strewn all across the house. The dining room table has a flute, a box of harmonicas, some brushes, and an empty accordion box nearby. The office has the bass and guitar still out of their cases, the musical saw, and a half-opened bag of percussion instruments. A cello is sitting in the corner of the living room with the djembe beside, sleigh bells and tambourine on the coffee table, accordion thrown on the couch and snare drum still near the computer.

We're not the only ones submitting. My other brother-in-law Wes made an amazingly joyful song complete with a beautiful tone chime and glockenspiel dialogue. It's gosh-darn wonderful.

If our songs aren't streamed at AK in a few weeks, I'll see what I can do about posting them somewhere where they can be retrieved.

It's been an insane way to start the holiday season. Merry Christmas.

. . .So the first thing to note is that Paul starts out with the word "Finally," and I think that means there's a reason he's talking about the armor of God and spiritual warfare last in his letter. How often have we heard this lesson taught on its own, out of context, to young Christians who have no foundation in their understanding of who God is and who we are in Him? I think that's the first reason this passage gets misconstrued so often. This metaphor is meant only for people who have already prepared for battle.

How should we be prepared? In chapters 1 and 2, we should be growing in an understanding of God’s immense love for us and his gracious work of salvation in our lives. In chapters 2 and 3, we learn that we must have an active connection with our church body, united together, dependent on one another, contributing our gifts and benefiting from others’ gifts. And in chapters 4 and 5, we must be acting out in loving and submissive relationships with others around us. After all this, we're ready to hear about warfare.

Whenever you go into a fight, it's always a good idea to identify and understand who your enemy is, otherwise you could end up pretty unprepared and ultimately pretty embarrassed. So the second thing to notice is who our enemy is, or, if you ask Donald and me, who our enemy ISN'T. Thankfully, Paul tells us that, too.

It's not a war against cultures, it's not the good guys vs. the bad guys, and it's not us vs. them. No, it's not against flesh and blood at all, but rather a supernatural struggle. And the fact that it is supernatural not only tells us who we're fighting against but also our ability to succeed in this fight. We don't have a chance.

So if we don't have a chance, how are we told to fight? We're told to be strong in the Lord, to rest in his mighty power, to put on the armor of God, to stand firm, to pray, and to be alert. And our weapons consist of things like truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and the word of God.

None of these things come from ourselves, and of course they don't, because we already admitted we don't stand a chance in this supernatural fight. John tells us that we aren't greater than the one who is in the world, but the one who is in us is.

Truth has its source in God, and it's a reminder of who God is and who we are in him. Righteousness is what guards our hearts, and while our righteous acts are like filthy rags, a righteousness from God has been revealed. Peace with God and the peace of God makes us ready to face anything; it is a complete, sound and total welfare. Peace is what we're talking about when we sing "it is well with my soul." The faith that God supplies is the ability to believe his truth is in fact truth, enabling us to resist all temptation or doubt that comes our way. Our salvation in God gives us confidence and security. And God's Word continues to grow us in each of these areas. And where we falter in any of these areas or lack the desire to keep the armor in place, we must pray in the Spirit.

So, the question is, what does our fighting really look like?

We're not coming out swinging, kicking, screaming or yelling. We're not shooting or bombing. We're not even protesting or boycotting or arguing. We're not picking fights. None of this is what Paul's getting at in this passage.

No, instead, the battle is fought by a steadfast, intimate trust in the one who can fight and has already won the battle. Paul tells us several times to stand, and that should be our first clue that the battle is much more defensive than it is offensive. It's a resting in God, a continual reminder of who He is and who we are in Him. While it's not exactly passive (we're told to be alert!), it definitely looks quite passive compared to the fighting we're used to seeing. It's more inward than outward (have we not learned this lesson yet?!), more personal and individual than corporate.

(It's worth noting that, while no one can fight this battle FOR you, we ARE fighting together, side by side, encouraging one another along the way...)

This doesn't look like fighting or warfare at all! But I think it's a lot closer to what Paul is talking about. (And a lot of this makes more sense when we take a closer look at 1st century warfare--what Paul was really talking about--instead of our modern warfare.) It's not fighting against the liberals and the homosexuals, nor is it fighting against Satan with our own feeble tactics. It's standing firm in who God is and who we are in Him, resisting the devil, and becoming more like Christ along the way. Paul using this metaphor to tell us we're under attack, and he's not using it to tell us we need to be attacking in return.

Tell all this to organizations like BattleCry and they'd cease to exist. Tell all this to Donald Miller and he might start to be OK with war metaphor in its proper context.

I have grown in my understanding, and it's time we start spreading a more accurate word on this oft-misunderstood passage and idea.

It probably started with reading Blue Like Jazz. I used to be afraid of War Metaphor, just like Donald Miller.

"Only one more thing that bugged me, then I will shut up about it. War metaphor. The churches I attended would embrace war metaphor. They would talk about how we are in a battle, and I agreed with them, only they wouldn't clarify that we were battling poverty and hate and injustice and pride and the powers of darkness. They left us thinking that our war was against liberals and homosexuals. Their teaching would have me believe I was the good person in the world and the liberals were the bad people in the world. Jesus taught that we are all bad and He is good, and He wants to rescue us because their is a war going on and we are hostages in that war. The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus."

I agreed, and so I did my best to read the Bible and conveniently avoid certain passages. This was fine with me, because I had heard that lesson on the armor of God one too many times anyway, with all of its cute illustrations and cliche demonstrations. It was getting old.

Then, one Sunday, Carl taught on the chapter "Fighting with All His Might" from the book Holiness by Grace by Bryan Chapell. It turned out the chapter and the lesson focused on Ephesians Six, the armor of God. While Carl didn't come right out and clearly make the point that Donald Miller and I desperately wanted him to make, he did offer the most real, applicable, beautiful teaching on the passage I had ever heard. And he definitely didn't tell us to go bomb any abortion clinics or picket any gay-loving churches.

This set up some conflict for me. I wanted to be all hip and emergent or whatever and delete that part from my Bible, but Carl was showing me it was there, and it was true, and it was valid. Getting rid of it simply because some people were getting carried away with it would, like I mentioned recently, leave us equally misguided in the opposite direction. Instead, it's our job to test everything and hold on to the good, avoiding all extremes.

Fast-forward a year or so, and now it's my job to teach Ephesians 6, the armor of God, to a room full of 50 adults. I tried to pawn this one off on my co-teacher, but he was away and I was stuck with it. It turns out I'm glad I was.

. . .more to come. . .

Can I be honest?

Sometimes I get frustrated with rich Christians finding all sorts of ways to justify not being more generous with their money. They have all sorts of convenient arguments to account for their vacation home(s), sports car(s), and countless other luxuries.

I'm not saying they're necessarily wrong, because I'm not convinced they always are, but I've always dreamt of a CEO handling his wealth like THIS.

I was glad to read I'm not being completely lofty in my idealism.

But, I suppose it's easy to say I would give away all my money if I were a CEO. Maybe I should start now with the little bit I do have.

So, happy Thanksgiving, and happy Black Friday, and all of that.

I'm savoring the last of my break, here. Moravians apparently don't hunt, so we don't have off tomorrow.

There is truly so much for which to be thankful. On the top of that list, this year, is my job. After the last two years, I never expected to find a job that didn't make me dread waking up each morning. But I've found that job. It's rewarding and enjoyable, and more often than not, it's actually fun. This is a privilege I am not taking for granted, and while some days I have conflicted feelings about giving up on my previous job, it's a blessing I'll take advantage of while I can.

And as nice as this place is, and as tough as the last school was, I can say I'm thankful for those years too. They taught me some pretty important things. My patience grew, my trust in God deepened, my love, compassion and understanding for people widened, and I learned a lot about teaching. I still get excited when I see old students of mine walking through town. I get more excited than they do, that's for sure, and I probably make a fool of myself rolling down my windows and yelling at them. But I miss them. And I'm thankful for my time with them.

I'm thankful for a wonderful summer. Each time I see a picture of our adventures, vivid memories come flooding back and I can physically sense just for a moment how relaxed and stress-free we were. It was truly amazing. And I can close my eyes and picture myself on certain streets in Marseille or Montpellier or Strasbourg, and it brings a smile to my face. I am humbled to realize we had the opportunities we did.

I'm thankful for being encouraged. Grandfathers came up to me at Grandparents Day and took the time to ask how my year was going and they thanked me for all I do. And outside of school, lots of people are taking the time to encourage me in my teaching at church. Erica and I have had great interaction with people who are encouraging us as a couple. And all of this tells us God is working in our lives and marriage.

And I'm thankful for my wife. This woman, again this year, took on the planning of a thanksgiving meal that fed around 300 people across the Lehigh Valley. It was more amazing than ever. And if you saw the work behind the scenes you would know the compassion she has for these people, the grace she wants to communicate to them. She's an incredible woman.

And I could go on.

Could you?

I think I'm contradicting myself in that last post. And again, maybe it will all be cleared up when I continue on with the rest of the book.

On one hand, we can save ourselves the trouble of reinventing the wheel if we take a close look at things first, reading accounts like Chesterton is going to share.

On the other hand, if we insist on setting out to find something new, let us not resist returning to the same place we started, and let us rejoice in the incident, for we learned a lot in the journey and what was once commonplace and mundane is now meaningful and brilliant.

And however it happens, isn't it wonderful to know that people went through the same thing one hundred years ago? There's nothing new under the sun.

And with all this talk of discovering what we sought out to avoid...does this have anything to do with my trying to avoid being a pastor?

Why has no one told me sooner to read G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy? I recently saw the Barnes and Noble edition available for seven dollars, and decided I needed to add it to my library, going off of little knowledge besides hearing the name thrown around here and there.

I sat down this morning--in the beautiful act of recuperation from the previous days' gluttony--and opened the book, reading both the introduction by Steven Schroeder and Chesterton's opening introduction. The author immediately became one of the most endearing personalities I have ever encountered, and the presented premise of the book seems so completely and utterly relevant to matters in the church today, definitely much moreso than any magazine that deems itself relevant only to meander about matters discussed much more eloquently and relevantly elsewhere.

Now, before I get too excited and assume too much, I realize I need to read more than just the introductions. But if a book's introductions are this enrapturing, how much more will be the actual content?

Admitting I am being a tad hyperbolic, allow me to expound, in hopes that I can make some sense to these elusive connections swimming around in my brain.

This past Friday, we had the pleasure of hosting a French-missionary-friend for dinner. At one point in the conversation, he asked if I could see myself as a pastor. As much as this tends to be a goal of mine somewhere in the back of my mind, I still have trouble seeing it or admitting it. So, my answer was, "Yes, but I think my role and my church will look different from what I see in my dad and his church." And this is not to say I disprove of my father or his church, because that is far from the case. And in saying this, I have no idea how it will look or even in which small details it will be different. In other words, I am not aiming to make some huge departure and run a radically different path, but I just tend to think it will look slightly different in some unknown ways.

He appreciated and understood what I meant, and this led to a discussion of this crazy emergent-post-modern-whatever-it's-supposed-to-be-called-these-days-type movement. I tried to insist I wasn't much of a proponent of the emergent church, but he tried to insist that my earlier statement (paraphrased as, "I don't know what it will look like, but it will be different") indicated I was whether I liked it or not. (I think I still disagree.)

This led to a discussion of reactions and changes and responses and evolution. He wants the older generation to be tolerant and embracing of the changes the younger generations are bringing along. And while I appreciate his graciousness in this matter, I tend to think we're too accepting and uncritical of some of the changes that are occurring.

And maybe my idealism rests in this: "It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. The man who fears God will avoid all extremes." Ecc. 7:18

If we keep reacting and reacting and reacting in one hundred eighty degrees each time, we're going to be just as deficient as the ones before us, only in the opposite direction. Now, I must submit my idealism to the reality that the church will never reach perfection on this sinful earth, and at the same time, I want to believe we can get closer than we've been getting if we don't react with such intensity for the opposite direction. I want to believe we can get closer than we've been getting if we can "Test everything. Hold on to the good." 1 Thess. 5:21 We can get closer than we've been getting if we don't run the other direction and try to reinvent the wheel each time.

But enough of all this, how in the world does this relate to G.K. Chesterton's introduction to Orthodoxy?

Chesterton seems to say that in his zealousness to run from the church and find something new, his discoveries led him right back to precisely what the church believed all along. He likens himself to a yachtsman who leaves England in pursuit of an undiscovered island in the south seas. When he arrives to his supposed destination and proudly sticks his flag in the ground, he eventually realizes he ended right back up in England.

And while this may look foolish and embarrassing to many, Chesterton gives several reasons why it's not, and why it can actually be quite comforting, liberating, and beautiful.

These emergent-post-modern types (of which I may actually be a part) are setting out to find something completely different than the church of the previous generation. They may be surprised to find that the place in which they arrive is quite similar to what has been all along. But this is nothing to fear, because there is beauty in the journey, and beauty in finding the newness and depth and truth of what has been called home all along.

"What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again?" Chesterton asks. And then, delving into deeper thoughts, "How can we contrive to be at once astonished at the world and yet at home in it?"

And so, in our zealous idealism, let us not arrogantly think we are alone in finding truth.

"When I fancied that I stood alone, I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe. I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy."

Chesterton is serious without taking himself seriously. He is confident and bold, but is able to laugh at himself in humility. He is sharing an experience that could very likely be perceived as foolish and embarrassing, and while it is, it is also beautiful.

And this is just the introduction!

"I want to tell you how much I've enjoyed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, Chalk, Dan in Real Life, Into the Wild, and The Darjeeling Limited, and what I've taken from each one."

I missed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints in the theaters and put it in my queue instead. I was intrigued when I heard it was a memoir about surviving the culture in which I was attempting to teach at the time. And boy did it hit home, making some part of me regret leaving that demographic for the comfort of the motivated upper class. I could instantly attach a former student with each one of the characters, some with so much potential, seeing their culture for what it was, and longing to escape to bigger and better things, and others simply caught up, unable to escape. The most memorable part was each character intoducing themselves to the camera, accompanied with some sort of line that explained who they were. The scene ended with Antonio, walking up, looking straight into the camera and saying, "I'm a f------ piece of s---. And that's who I am." Strong words, indeed, but I could name a long list of my former students who would say the same thing if they could be honest with themselves; they have no identity other than what their abusive fathers and careless teachers and parole officers and society have told them over and over again. And it completely explains why they act the way they act. But besides the storyline, the movie--and I'm assuming the book as well--are amazing achievements for the autobiographer, Dito Montiel. Why didn't we hear more about this one when it came out?

I saw Chalk shortly after, another movie forcing me to reflect on my first two years of teaching. The movie is no great accomplishment. It's more a group of friends making a movie, finding themselves hilariously funny when they are only moderately funny at best, and thus overdoing some things too much and other things not enough. But the main character is played quite well, and if you want a small taste for my first years of teaching, watch him. I swear some of the exact things that came out of his mouth came out of mine as well. And the scene where he wrestles himself when signing his contract for the following year was also quite true and accurate. ...And, come to think of it, perhaps that's the other problem with Chalk. I never quite figured out how much of a mockumentary it was. Some things were too true to life and some things were, I think, fully intended to be serious, either showing what teachers truly go through or attempting to encourage them in some way. I think the group of people putting it together simply couldn't make up their minds on that end. And it's okay.

Dan in Real Life was sweet fun. Maybe I'm only liking movies that remind me of myself, but this one reminded me of our family vacations and family dynamics in a big way, and I found myself identifying with Dan at several moments. I loved how it communicated the warmth and support of a family but also the simultaneous isolation and loneliness. Maybe that's a paradox only introverts experience, but it was an intriguing insight. And while it seemed like a simple role, Steve Carrell is just a wonderful actor. Again, maybe it's because I could relate, but he just seemed to communicate nonverbal thoughts and feelings exceptionally well. It's always a shame when great actors get pegged in the goofball category, especially when even (some of) their comedy is incredibly intelligent.

Into the Wild was simply excellent. For Erica and I, it was so alarmingly similar to the friend we picked up a while back on so many different levels. If I were to write my thoughts on the theme of the movie, it would read pretty much exactly like my thoughts of that crazy experience in April. Again, maybe I'm only liking (or seeing?) movies that remind me of me.

And this past Tuesday, Dan, Wes and I went to see The Darjeeling Limited. First of all, few things are more relaxing than a weekday matinee. Second of all, this was a bit of a departure for Wes Anderson, one that felt like an EP between full lengths, a short story between novels. It was lovely. "I looks like I have more healing to do." "You've come a long way, though." "And it adds character." Mr. Anderson has a knack for these beautiful moments that tug at your heart and stick with you forever. That was one.

"I want to tell you how overwhelmed with movies I am now...I've waited all year, and now there's a whole slew to keep up with."

Wanting to see: Michael Clayton, Before the Devil Knows Your Dead, American Gangster, The Savages, Juno, Lars and the Real Girl, What Would Jesus Buy?, still My Kid Could Paint That, No Country for Old Men, and maybe Margot at the Wedding. What else am I forgetting? Eagerly awaiting There Will Be Blood.

There's so much to write about, but I seem to have lost the drive.

I want to tell you how much I've enjoyed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, Chalk, Dan in Real Life, Into the Wild, and The Darjeeling Limited, and what I've taken from each one. I want to tell you how overwhelmed with movies I am now...I've waited all year, and now there's a whole slew to keep up with.

I want to write the typical autumn post about the changing leaves.

I want to tell you about finally listening to Rhys Chatham's composition for 400 electric guitars that was played in Sacre Coeur, and how surprisingly wonderful it is, and how it's changing my opinion of ambient, minimalist music.

I want to tell you what I found in Acts chapter 8 and I want to express my frustrations about Ephesians chapter 5.

I want to tell you how much I'm enjoying my job.

Maybe someday soon.

Students were asked to add a personal motto to the coat of arms they were creating. One boy wrote,

"Do it fast, and do it rite."

The mistake was unintentional, but it is probably a more accurate motto for him than the correct version.

--

I typed a note on the Activboard today and finished with a common emoticon: ;)

I had three students raise their hands and ask if my finger slipped, trying to correct my apparent typo. They were completely clueless and unaware of the obvious modern-day connotation a colon and parenthesis holds in our day. I found this incredibly surprising and alarmingly refreshing. There are some small pockets of our world that have not yet been infiltrated by our pseudo-society of cyberspace.

I walked out of the apartment this morning to find Erica's jack-o-lantern smashed on our front porch. If you haven't yet heard, Erica carved my face into her pumpkin. To say the least, it was a bit disconcerting to see my face strewn across our concrete steps. I'm hoping it wasn't a deliberate message.

I could hear the voices of more than one of my former students ringing in my memory: "IMA GETCHOO!"

Happy Halloween!

Plenty more pictures can be found at our Flickr site.

It's 2:50 AM, and the 3rd Annual Shorb Halloween Costume Extravaganza has finally come to a close. It feels good to have my face paint washed off, and I'm looking forward to a long night of sleep after a very long and tiring week.

It was a great night. We crammed nearly 50 people in our apartment, and the costumes were more impressive than ever.

Pictures will be up in the near future. Check back soon.

How do you teach someone to feel and appreciate beauty?

As a lover of beauty, a supporter of the arts, one who is curious in the conversation on aesthetics, and a teacher who comes in contact with 54 students each day, I found myself asking this question over and over on our field trip today.

We visited Longwood Gardens and Brandywine River Museum.

Longwood is the closest you'll get to Versaille's gardens in Pennsylvania. The gardens are awe-inspiring with so many varieties and an astounding attention to detail. We watched people planting tulip bulbs fastidiously, measuring each bulb a perfect 7-inches away from the next one. We were told about how certain plants were taught to grow downwards, trained by being woven through metal grids. Certain displays are planted, only to be torn out and composted a month later to make way for a new display. Why so much work? For no reason other than a profound appreciation for aesthetics; for the sheer beauty of it.

It was a quick tour at the Brandywine River Museum, but we got a good look at some gorgeous paintings from NC, Andrew, and Jamie Wyeth. We saw NC's 17 full-size original illustrations for Treasure Island, full of life and color and movement. We saw some of Andrew's stark monochromatic egg-tempera's. And of course, the kids' favorite, Jamie's famous pig. Why would these men spend months at a time studying their subject matter before painting? And why use a medium made out of eggs that would require layer upon layer upon layer before finishing? For no reason other than a profound appreciation for aesthetics; for the sheer beauty of it.

It was a day of beauty. The first half, God's natural beauty: the brilliant creativity of chrysanthemums, orchids, water lilies, cacti, and more and more and more. The second half, God's gift of creativity given to man: beautiful scenes, some from everyday life and others from fantastic imagination, each captured with painstaking methods.

Yet, fairly often many of the kids passed through most areas rather disinterested. Where I could stop and stare for hours, they ran through and waited at the end impatiently for everyone else to finish.

And so I kept asking myself, how do you teach someone--especially a 5th grader--to feel and appreciate beauty?

I did my best to encourage them to just take time to look. (This is probably the bigger issue: How do you teach a 10-year-old bursting with energy living in fast-paced instant society to s l o w d o w n ?) And whenever possible our tour guide shared some insight that hopefully increased their interest. The background was explained and the details were pointed out. And certain things did in fact catch their attention.

But that feeling--that sense of beauty that brings a smile to your face and makes everything feel right--is something that cannot be taught. You cannot make someone feel beauty. (Life would be a bit more satisfying for some of us if you could!)

So, where does it come from? And why is it different for different people?

Tonight's Scrabble Score:

Nate - 247
Erica - 354

She gets better and better each time we play. 354! That's no small score.

Without having cable at home, it's tough for Erica and I to get too involved with the television. When we position the rabbit ears just right, we can catch an occasional rerun of the Simpsons or a new episode of The Office, albeit fuzzy. It's gotta be a show that we absolutely love in order to make the cumbersome labor of getting adequate reception worth it. So, typically, we just keep an eye out for quality programming and enjoy it when it arrives on DVD.

Speaking of which, we finished the third season of The Office in no time flat and loved it. Erica's still working through Ugly Betty, on which I have mostly given up.

All this being said, I'll be completely honest in saying I've never heard of Veronica Mars. When you don't have cable, things like that happen. But a nice gentleman recently contacted me asking me to share with you what I thought about season 3 coming out on DVD shortly. So, once I receive said DVDs and watch them with my wife, I'm going to do exactly that. If any of you are fans and would like to fill me in on seasons 1 and 2, please feel free.

So, updates to come. In the meantime, here's what we're dealing with:

Veronica Mars is set in the wealthy seaside community of Neptune , CA , where the rich and powerful make the rules. Unfortunately for them, there's Veronica Mars (Kristen Bell), a smart, fearless young apprentice private investigator dedicated to solving the town's toughest mysteries. In season three, hoping to leave the ghosts of Neptune High behind her, Veronica is now a freshman at Hearst College , along with her boyfriend, Logan Echolls, and best friends, Wallace Fennel and Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie. But despite the students' efforts to soak up the college experience in their own way, it quickly becomes obvious that some ghosts are here to stay.

Add the increasingly dangerous private investigator business ran by Veronica's father, Keith Mars (Enrico Colantoni), to her spreading reputation around campus as a girl who can fix the unfixable and it becomes clear that Hearst College has never encountered a student like Veronica Mars before. Building on its trademark twists and turns but featuring a new campus, new faces and new surprises, Veronica Mars promises to keep old and new fans alike guessing in its third season.

I don't see many people wishing my mother a happy birthday...I was serious about that...it's OK if your wishes are belated...you celebrate for a week straight when you turn 60. That means you have until next Wednesday.

My readership isn't down THAT much is it?!?

It's October 10th, and that means it's a very special day for a very special someone...

Leave a comment below to wish my mom a
HAPPY 60TH BIRTHDAY!!

Wishing Page France would stay just as beautiful but mellow out a bit? Good news...

"Another way of saying it is..."

On Sunday I taught a class on Ephesians 2:11-22. This is the passage that has been just about the only thing occupying my thoughts for the past nine months or so. It was a challenge to communicate it all in one hour's time, but it went fairly well all in all.

But just when I thought my thoughts might be able to move elsewhere, I've spent all day yesterday and the 30 minutes I've been awake this morning thinking of more. I'm thinking of different and better ways of saying things I said. I'm thinking of other applications. I'm thinking of arguments and questions. It just keeps going!

I continue to pray that I would realize I'm not the only one who can arrive at these thoughts. The Holy Spirit can communicate these things to others just as well or even better than the way he communicates them to me. And so I'm praying that our hour discussion will have spurred one another on towards further thought.

Or maybe I should start a Sunday school blog. . . .

MMmmmm...I think this movie is going to be a lot of fun. The trailer alone brought a heartwarming smile to my face.

And I just listened to an interview with the director of this movie, for which I now have very high hopes. Best doc since Spellbound????

I'm a bit frustrated, though, that all the movies I'm excited for are finding themselves a (very) limited release, while the movies that have been in a wide release lately have been so dreadfully mediocre and unappealing. This is always the case for me, of course, but it seems worse than ever lately. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a movie in a local theater.

We held a listening party tonight for Iron & Wine's new album, The Shepherd's Dog. Four out of the seven in attendance were new to the idea of a listening party, and we were glad to introduce them to the practice. They survived pretty well.

The thing I love most about listening parties is hearing people's "Hmmms" and seeing them smile or tap their feet at certain points. It's nice to look at each other and communicate excitement and pleasure, knowing what each other is thinking, without exchanging words.

And that being said, it's just nice to have people hear the intricacies of an album and derive pleasure from them, something that rarely happens when music is reduced to background noise. Because, after all, isn't that what the artist intended?

As for The Shepherd's Dog....

I never though Mr. Beam could transcend my love of the lo-fi The Creek Drank the Cradle, but I'm pretty sure it's safe to say he just may have done exactly that with this album. Creek Drank the Cradle was perfection. Our Endless Numbered Days tried too hard to replicate that perfection, but it was much too polished for its own good, making it an album for college girls. Everyone talked about the electric guitars on Woman King, and that's because they didn't fit. He was trying to grow up too fast, like the elementary schooler trying desperately to fit in with his older brothers and looking ridiculous in the process. Too much, too soon. In the Reins was a nice full-band attempt, but it didn't sound like Iron & Wine (and granted, I don't think that was the intent). But finally, The Shepherd's Dog gets all those things right.

I haven't been this excited about an album in a long time.

It's complex and layered, fusing all sorts of genres together, molding them together in his unique style. Sounds and ideas come in from all over the place, and yet nothing seems off-kilter; everything fits beautifully.

It's polished, but not unnecessarily. It's got new instrumentation, but it works towards the goal. It's thick with layers, but it sounds like Iron & Wine.

Tempted to ignore the hype? With an album like Our Endless Numbered Days, that would have been acceptable. But The Shepherd's Dog is no album to ignore.

The other week I was doing a good job of faking my jockness with a couple of boys. They were talking baseball and I said things like, "But they just don't have anything in the bullpen!...Their bullpen is so weak!" They agreed excitedly and did all of the elaborating for me. It was perfect. I had no idea what I was saying, but they totally bought it.

Too bad it took me all day today to find out that the Phillies made it into the playoffs for the first time since 1993. My response to someone's comment was, "What happened?" Whoops.

Yeah, it's kind of a big deal. I should have been on top of that one a little sooner.

...But that being said: "Go Phils!"

Everyone's freaking out today because Radiohead has decided to sell their album without the help of the music industry for the price of: YOUR CHOICE. Wonderful news, indeed, but come on. It's not THAT revolutionary. It's exactly what Iron Cobra did with their album a few years back. Did anyone write about us? Noooo, of course not!

But in all seriousness, this HAS always been my philosophy on music and downloading, so it's pretty cool to see someone so influential (as if Iron Cobra wasn't influential enough) implementing the idea. You don't want someone downloading your music for free? Then start making some music worth buying. Maybe that's a little idealistic, but I have a feeling Radiohead will make out just fine here and prove that it can work.

And sure, they got to this point with the help of major labels. But if a band would release another OK Computer in these days of webzines and bloggers, it could happen again with just a little bit of hard work.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah is a good example. But let's be honest, their debut was no OK Computer. (They're fun and all, but I still wonder how they got to be so popular.)

In my mind, the most memorable thing said at the funeral I attended on Friday came from the boisterous, enthusiastic and noisy African American preacher. He spoke loudly and deliberately, with the heavy exhale of air in between sentences that ends up being an emphatic chuckle that shouts "Amen!" or asks "What do you think of that?"

"...We have sorrow coupled with joy! *heh* And that's the sort of thing that happens when you've got Jesus! *heh* It's a paradox, ya see!..."

I put a sticky-note on my desktop. Under the heading of "Tonight's Goals," I typed the following:

school-
make a brain
watch video
grade bodies of water quiz

home-
deposit checks
pay bills
work on budget

Compact Disc Center...?


...Guess which goal I accomplished first. Yep, the one with the question mark.

Discipline, Shorb, discipline...get with it you slacker.

But it was a long-awaited payday! That counts for something, doesn't it?!

Looking forward to checking out: The new Iron and Wine, the new Mum, BSS presents Kevin Drew...

Looking forward to picking up: Feist and old Joanna Newsom...

Somewhat skeptical of: The new Jose Gonzalez. I want to like the guy. I really do. But there's something about the same picky guitars and bland double-layered vocals song after song and album after album that kind of irks me.

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath.

The Pentecostals blame the world's problems on the devil: his demons, his schemes, his power over and possession of people. The Fundamentalists blame the world's problems on "the world" itself: the homosexuals, the abortionists, and all their sneaky agendas including the most innocent of cartoons and Disney movies. The Diehard Calvinists blame the world's problems on our flesh: our total depravity and continual struggle with sin.

A quick look at the opening verses of Ephesians 2 will tell us all three play their part in causing the evil we see around us: The World, The Flesh, and The Devil. They work together equally, each in some way causing or encouraging the other. To focus on one and ignore the others will have its consequences, perhaps the most obvious being the simple inability to fix a nagging problem as a result of trying to fix the wrong thing in the wrong way.

Before we go blaming something on demon possession, we must realize it's simply how a world without knowledge of any alternative will obviously behave, especially when one's sinful flesh is involved.

Before we go blaming something on those darn homosexuals or any other group of sinners we might choose at that moment, we must realize that we are no better and it is only by the grace of God that we are avoiding the path of many others in "the world."

And before we boil everything down to an individual matter of the sinful flesh, we must remember the devil has his schemes and the world has its alluring ways of going about things.

Now, it's admittedly my own bias (even though I like to categorize myself as a Moderate Calvinist rather than a Diehard Calvinist), but I would say "the flesh" is the one most often getting ignored, and the one that needs to be dealt with first and foremost. But if I say that, aren't I ignoring the point I'm trying to make here? I guess so.

I'm pointing out The World, The Flesh, and The Devil to encourage people to take closer notice of the flesh. The devil and the world are scapegoats that are all too easy to use in justifying our own actions, establishing ourselves as innocent and righteous instead of leaving that job up to Christ. It's must easier to point the finger elsewhere than to admit and acknowledge what these first few verses of Ephesians 2 really tell us about ourselves.

And yet, while I encourage people in that train of thought, I probably need to remind myself to look more at the devil and the world. . .

I was finally able to accurately express my thoughts regarding my teaching job to someone yesterday.

After he asked, I told him how wonderful my job is. He said it must feel good to finally be able to teach and enjoy it. I agreed, but said that I only wish I could have found a way to teach like this and make it work where I was before. It's a shame, I said. He told me he could tell that this upsets me. That bittersweet tension--between enjoying a new opportunity and regretting the last one couldn't have worked out differently--is what I've had such a hard time communicating.

But I know that figuring out how to actually teach in that environment and to that demographic is not for me, at least not at this point in time. I want to very badly, but I know that it simply is not my job. I tried it, and I cannot do it.

So, did I abandon them? A lot of times I feel like I did, and a lot of times I'm afraid others might see it that way. But I've come to the point where I understand there was nothing more for me to do there. Instead I've gained a sense of empathy for the people that CAN do a good job there, and I'll be rooting them on and praying for more teachers like them.

Have I given up on the public school system? That might be a little more difficult to answer. I want the public school system to work. I want a good education to be available to all people regardless of demographic. And yet I see all the problems, all the things that make the public school system terribly and almost unavoidably mediocre. I do believe it can be changed, but it takes some integrity, responsibility, and professionalism in administrators and the teachers they hire. Sometimes that seems hard to come by.

So, yes, I love my job.

But I do wish it was possible to be loving a job at an urban public school.

A lot of people tend to complain about the fact that they never know when I'm being serious and when I'm being sarcastic. Apparently there's a fine line between the two that often gets blurry. I've always had a rule that I will always answer truthfully if someone asks, "Are you serious?" Although recently, I've found out that sometimes even I don't know when I'm being serious and when I'm not.

I do get a little frustrated, though, when I am trying to be completely serious and people refuse to believe it or accept it. I guess though, after all this time, maybe I mostly deserve that.

Well, I've always attempted to tone down the sarcasm in my classroom. I never thought it was too much of a problem. But apparently the kids are starting to detect this same fine line that everyone else is struggling with.

During games day yesterday, I was giving one boy some genuine, authentic encouragement. I was really trying to help here, giving him some serious praise. He looked at me with eyes of skepticism and said, "Are you being serious or sarcastic?" I was stunned.

Come on!

I just realized that, so far, none of my students have told me I look like Peter Parker/Spiderman.

In all the schools I've taught in, this has never happened before. It usually only takes a couple of hours for them to think of it...a couple of days at most.

I have yet to have a student call my wardrobe "mad whack" (which is a bad thing). On the other hand, I have yet to have a student call my wardrobe "mad bangin'" (which is a good thing). They haven't even said either of those in their own vernacular.

Instead, most of them have decided to remain neutral, simply commenting on color schemes and the like. Things such as...

"You wear earthtones often." or "That tie is orange." or "Was your shirt that white this morning?"

Neutral indeed. Must be the art of diplomacy they've been taught at home. I'm on to them.

In the same vein, I think they know that using the comment "interesting" is fairly neutral itself. When I wrote the word on one boy's paper he asked me, "So is that a good thing or a bad thing? How did you mean it?"

They're on to me.

My kids took a small quiz on the seven continents. Spelling counted.

I informed one boy that Antarctica had a tricky little letter in between the r and the t.

He looked at it, and questioned what I meant by saying very deliberately:

"Ant-arc-tica??"

"Yup."

"Who knew!?!" he responded with astoundment.

It has slowly dawned on me (no pun intended, truly) that I no longer dread waking up in the morning. What a wonderful feeling!

When I told someone at Bible study that I've never really written extensive lesson plans he said, "But I thought last year you were always complaining on Sunday nights about all the work you had to do!" He's right, I did. But I think it wasn't so much lesson plans or work I was worried about finishing. Instead, it was the intense Sunday night mental preparation that needed to happen.

And by mental preparation I mean wallowing in dread, anxiety, and depression.

But not so, anymore!

lots of people liked the movie zodiac.

i guess it kept me watching, but on the whole it was much too slow, long, boring, and unaffecting for its own good.

official art and culture update:

after seeing menomena entertain the kids and giggling along (you really MUST watch that video), i finally decided i needed to buy their cd. i walked to the store down the street, and much to my dismay, they didn't have it. i was about to walk out depressed, and decided on a whim to check out the used section. there it was for $7. brilliant. you can listen here.

just as i recently said i thought i should, i began reading l'engle's wrinkle in time. i'm about halfway through and absolutely loving it. it's easy to find time to read when you find something you enjoy.

erica's been watching ugly betty on dvd and i've been falling asleep. i don't think it's funny enough to be getting all the recognition it got, but it has its moments i guess. we're about to start the office season 3, none of which i've seen yet, and BOY am i excited.

it's been a slow movie season for me recently, but i'm still thinking about and laboring over judd apatow and his movies. i have yet to see superbad. i'm still debating over whether it's worth it or not. this is a conversation for another blog post. but while we're on the subject, knocked up is coming out on dvd soon, and if you think it might be worth it, you have my blessing. i think.

i'm excited about the sigur ros trailer jamin showed me. as if i didn't want to move to iceland badly enough already!

i'm anxious to see the darjeeling limited, dan in real life, and my kid could paint that.

We had our first fire drill today.

The alarm went off and every single student closed their mouths completely even without being told. They were absolutely, totally, utterly silent all the way outside.

And no one threw rocks.

It was amazing.

i marvel at the person i become in front of a crowd. after getting used to parent nights being a night where i sat in my classroom by myself for 2+ hours, the majority of the parents of our 54 fifth graders showed up tonight. i had to introduce myself and discuss the science curriculum.

i don't understand how i do it. one minute i'm shy and socially awkward with a stomach all in knots, and then i jump up, dive in, start telling jokes, get everyone loose and laughing, and freely address the topics at hand.

who is this guy?

other than using up a good dose of adrenaline, i do not understand how in the world the transformation takes place.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ. In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession—to the praise of his glory."

I wonder if Paul knew when he was writing words that would one day become Scripture.

When he wrote these words above--which make one long, expansive sentence in the Greek--to the Ephesians, I think he must have known, but I don't think he planned it that way. The way scholars and commentators have dissected, belabored over, and torn apart this passage, we might be tempted to think Paul thought through these things very carefully and wrote them down specifically and intentionally. Instead, I picture him sitting down to write his letter, and he was suddenly moved by the Spirit. He simply began writing, quickly, vigorously, as the words came to mind and poured forth, spilling onto the page. He could not stop to think about what he was writing, because his pen just kept moving at such a fast pace that he could barely keep up. Finally, he paused, added the single period, and put his pen down to take a breath. His eyes looked over what was written, and his heart leapt as he rejoiced in the truths he found there: not truths that came from his own mind, but the truths that were delivered by the Spirit through him. Perhaps he wept with joy at the humbling notion of being used in such a way. And at this point, he could not comprehend the words he just wrote, nor could he comprehend being the chosen communicator of such lofty thoughts, which is why he immediately launched into a prayer for understanding in verse 15.

And this reminds me of art in its truest sense: art without a set agenda that gives way to deeper, transcendent meanings after being created.

Madeleine L'Engle often talked about how she did not find symbolism or deeper truths in her stories until several years after finishing them, perhaps not even realizing until someone else pointed it out. She simply told the story at the time, "serving" the characters as she puts it, and found surprising things later on.

Michael Nau of Page France says the lyrics on his album Hello, Dear Wind just came to mind and sounded good at the time. All of the spiritual allusions people point out in his songs simply confound him.

I wonder if the people of Ephesus asked Paul about his opening sentence in the same way we interrogate authors and artists. "Why did you choose this word?" "What did you mean by that word?" Perhaps he stuttered, had a hard time communicating, because ultimately he couldn't answer. Those were not his words, and he's been wondering the same things all this time.

This is difficult for a logical, cerebral, non-artistic person to comprehend. It sounds too mystical. Impossible. How can you write something with such obvious symbolism and meaning without planning it or thinking about it, without realizing it? But if we can entertain the idea with the writing of Paul, perhaps it's easier to see it happening in the work of artists. And while I'm not radical enough to elevate everyday art to the level of scripture (although, I may be bold enough to suggest that any truly good piece of art is inspired by the Spirit, just as L'Engle would have in so many words said), perhaps we have a lot more to learn from art than we often realize or take the time to admit.

I made a poster for my classroom that says, "Ask Questions!"

One of the first activities I did in science class was to have students in their journals answer: "Why is it important to ask questions?"

I got a lot of typical concrete answers...to learn...to clear up confusion...to make sure you understand. All of these answers were centered around asking questions of the teacher. There was really only one boy who gave the answer I was hoping to get:

"By asking questions we challenge ourselves to think harder. . ."

Yes! And from there I had to tell the kids over and over that I'm not necessarily telling them to ask questions of the teacher but to ask questions of themselves, to be curious, to look deeper, to find answer themselves, to be independent thinkers and independent learners. Good scientists are curious, always asking questions, and so are good students and good thinkers.

I think it's working, slowly but surely. During all three periods in the science lab on Friday, the instructor asked the question, "What do scientists do?" One of the first answers said in all three classes was,

"They ask questions."

How satisfying!

Erica's aunt was asking about my job last night. When I described it to her, she said simply, "You get to teach!"

Yes. I get to teach. Finally. And more importantly, the kids get to learn. It's a great feeling.

A large man walking at a quick pace just passed by on the sidewalk in front of our house. He was talking loudly and animatedly, using his hands for emphasis. He was all alone, but his booming voice drifted in through our open windows as he said the following:

"Hey! Hey! Hey Brian! How's it goin' man?! You remember me? How ya been?! It's so good to see you! You are getting SO TALL! It's just like you're growin' and growin' and growin'! I can't believe it! It's so good to see you! Hey, how's that little sister o' yours? She OK? So what have you been up to? Man, you're tall! You're just so tall! I can't believe it! You're tall. Yes you are..."

By this time he was up to the next block and his voice faded away.

Here's hoping he was practicing for an acting audition (and here's hoping he keeps practicing), unless Brian--who has really grown, by the way--was walking a block in front of him, trying to get away perhaps, which might explain why this man was walking so quickly and talking so loudly.

While few of us knew her personally, we felt like we did, and we would tell you we lost a friend on Thursday.

Madeleine L'Engle has died.

Her writing has meant very much to many of us, encouraging, inspiring, and entertaining us, spurring us on to deeper thought. It's amazing how all of the news articles speak only of A Wrinkle in Time and rarely about any other of the charming works in her prolific collection. I guess that means it's about time I read A Wrinkle in Time, especially now that I'm an elementary teacher, and especially if I want to keep calling her a friend. I actually bought it right before we left for the summer. (It's a cheap buy on Amazon!) It's about time I dig in.

Other remarks.

An excerpt from an interview:

So to you, faith is not a comfort?
Good heavens, no. It’s a challenge: I dare you to believe in God. I dare you to think [our existence] wasn’t an accident.

Many people see faith as anti-intellectual.
Then they’re not very bright. It takes a lot of intellect to have faith, which is why so many people only have religiosity.

Have you read the Harry Potter books?
I read one of them. It’s a nice story but there’s nothing underneath it. I don’t want to be bothered with stuff where there’s nothing underneath. Some people say, “Why do you read the Bible?’’ I say, "Because there’s a lot of stuff underneath."

Nutella was expensive, but I bought some anyway. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but when I put it on a piece of fresh baked bread this morning and savored its chocolatey hazelnutty spreadable goodness for the first time in over a month, I was just about brought to tears.

I have fallen out of blogging-mode. I thought it could never happen. But in the past few days when I've thought about how long it's been since I've consistently posted here, a tiny little voice said to me, "Maybe it's the end of blogging for you..."

Get behind me Satan!

I have started my year at my new school. As expected, the new environment is absolutely, completely, 100% different, the complete opposite of my past teaching experience. The kids arrived on Wednesday, so we've had 3 days with them. It's a sharp learning curve and plenty to adjust to, so much so that I stayed at school past 6:00 three nights in a row, but once we get used to all that I think it will be a great experience.

Because these students will be a little more web-savvy and a little brighter in regards to finding things on the web, and because their parents are considerably more involved in their lives and education, and because it's much easier to get fired at a private school, you won't be hearing as many stories from my workplace here anymore. And let's be honest, there really won't be as much to talk about. Who wants to hear about darling little children who are extremely polite and excited to learn? That doesn't make blogging material! Booooring.

I have a feeling that, instead, you'll be finding more reflections of a spiritual nature here like you've seen recently. I've been tossing around the idea of writing articles for some publications. I've always had dreams of being a writer, and I think that might be the easiest place to start for the type of writing I enjoy. So this might become a sort of a brainstorming forum for me, or a sounding board of sorts. We'll see.

Does that mean I'll lose all of my faithful readers who would much prefer to read about my misfortune as a tortured teacher over spiritual musings?

You tell me, I suppose.

But recently Erica asked how many people read my blog, and I told her I'd never hooked up a sitemeter program to know. This surprised her. But I've always said from the very beginning that this blog was for me. A place to document and create and reflect and think. The idea of sharing with others is motivation to do so, which is why I blog instead of journal. But ultimately, it's just a therapeutic place for me to do something I need to do.

Anyway, now that I've bored you to death, can I tell you how wonderful yesterday was?

I began teaching an adult Sunday school class on the book of Ephesians. It was a little frightening standing in front of 40-or-so adults of all ages and backgrounds and experiences, but it went really well and I got some good feedback. I am honored to have such an opportunity, and I was glad it went so well.

Then the church service was really good. I hope I'm not offending anyone here, but our church services tend to be pretty hit-and-miss. Yesterday was definitely a hit.

Then after church since it was the most perfectly beautiful day you've ever seen with clear blue skies and a perfect temperature, Erica and I went to get some subs and ate them at the local park. It felt very French and we loved it.

Those three things were enough to put me on a high for the rest of the week, and since I was so filled with joy I decided the rest of the day was going to be more of the same: relaxing and enjoying myself and not worrying about work.

So when I got home, I decided to record for basically the first time since we finished our hymn CD two years ago. I have a MacBook now with Garageband, and while using a computer lacks a certain amount of lo-fi charm that you get with a 4-track, it's pretty wonderful all the things you can do. So, we pretty much finished "I stand amazed in the presence" also known as "How marvelous" and let me tell you, this track is HOTT with two t's. Look for the new album to drop in the near future, since we're so excited about how much better it sounds. I feel like a real rock star saying like everyone always says, "This album is better than anything we've ever done before...we're really taking things to a new level..."

Then our parents visited last night, which was really nice too, even though I fell asleep with them here.

And that was our wonderful day.

Don't worry, I won't be doing daily recaps like this too often, either. But a day like that deserves recapping.

Please excuse an additional post on similar thoughts...

I believe there is something deeper in the story of the disciples that we seem to be skipping over.

We praise many of these men for their tremendous faith, their ability to drop all else and believe immediately. Yet, we see elsewhere that this was often a simplistic, shallow response. It was not based so much on a knowledge of who God is and a deep, true trust in Him as it was simply a blind leap, perhaps even foolishly or ignorantly.

Sadly, I feel that is exactly the type of faith the church often praises and encourages.

In the same way, we pigeonhole Thomas as "the doubter." We talk down about him and scoff his "lack of faith." There may be some truth to our characiture of Thomas, but I tend to believe we've been too hard on him. He was asking questions, seeking a foundation from which to take his "leap of faith." He was researching, seeking wisdom. He was using logic and reason, which are by no means complete enemies of faith. Was he a skeptic? He may have been skeptical, but he if he was a true skeptic, he would not have joined the disciples in the first place, and he would not have believed in the resurrected Christ even after seeing the evidence he asked for.

Also sadly, I feel that is exactly the type of faith the church condemns and discourages.

The encouraging thing is this: Christ did not condemn any of his disciples, whether they believed without understanding or were hesitant to follow. Instead, he was patient, gracious, and loving, giving each one what they needed in order to commit. To those quickly believing, he praised their childlike faith and encouraged them to mature in it. To those hesitant, he gave them evidence and encouraged them to believe.

One approach or personality is not necessarily better or more correct than another; instead, both need a certain amount of refining. How wonderful it is that Christ is willing to patiently, graciously, lovingly refine us!

What's more, each of these approaches to faith, these varied personalities were used to build the first century church. They each had something significant to offer in that first mission of spreading the good news to the Gentile world. Instead of writing off or looking down on an approach different than our own, we must value and encourage one another. Those more logical, rational, and slow to believe will encourage the others to think through matters and mature. Those more childlike in their faith will encourage the others to believe, commit, and follow.

And in whichever case we find ourselves, we must continually cry out, "I believe! Help me with my unbelief!"

Those twelve personalities create such a complex and intriguing mosaic from which we can learn.

(This was originally written in my little notebook while sitting on a bench by the little river in Strasbourg. Erica was asleep with her head on my lap, which made it a little tricky to write. A sketchy looking man came along, and out of the entire, open, spacious, completely free river, he chose to set up his fishing rod incredibly.right.next.to.us close. He continued to inch closer and closer to us, so I scrambled to wrap up my thoughts, then quietly whispered the situation into Erica's ear to wake her up without scaring her. We were on our way shortly, thankfully unscathed. Paranoid? Maybe. But it was slightly odd.)