I have plaster on my garments,
how could I put them on?
I have paint on my shirts,
how could they be blue again?
I put my few quarters to the washer,
and my soap lathered in the basin.
I arose to hang my clothes,
and they grew dry,
they aired out and grew dry,
hanging from my lofted bed.
I had cleaned my garments,
but the paint had not gone from them.
My blue shirt had been ruined.
I sat next to my computer;
it web streamed: Cities 97.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Gay-dar
On Thursday, my teacher, Dell, took one of my classmates and I to Home Depot to get supplies for a group project. As we were getting into his Ford Ranger, I said that my aunt used to have the same truck. Dell immediately responded to this with the question, “Is your aunt a lesbian?”
I was offended by this question, because he was making a presumption about my aunt’s sexuality, a very personal issue that is tied very closely to one’s identity, based solely on the fact that she had once owned a truck. Regardless of how a person may feel regarding the morality of alternative lifestyles, I feel that it is wrong to assume things about a person’s sexuality because of their preferences in other areas of life.
I believe that “gay-dar” is terrible thing that can actually be hurtful to the people whose sexuality one is attempting to discern from their appearance. I, for one, could tell several stories about people who were deeply wounded by other people who assumed things about their sexual orientation due to their “butch” or “feminine” tendencies, and what makes this even worse is that the people who wounded them actually thought that they were being sensitive by supporting the person’s perceived lifestyle. I find this to be infuriating.
I think that Christians should be especially aware of the hurtful nature of “gay-dar,” as when we do this, we are essentially assigning that person sin. Not only are we projecting that onto that person, but we are sinning ourselves by judging them.
Therefore, when I meet a new person, I assume them to be a monogamous heterosexual, not only for the reasons above, but also because, the last I had heard, only about 11% of the world’s population practice homo- or by- sexuality. However, if it does come out that they are in fact in an alternative lifestyle, I think no differently of them. I have a problem with homosexuality, not homosexuals. Jesus loves homosexuals so much that He died for them. Yes, I do believe that homosexuality is a sin (see 1 Cor. 6:9), but so is lying (see 1 Peter 3:10).
I was offended by this question, because he was making a presumption about my aunt’s sexuality, a very personal issue that is tied very closely to one’s identity, based solely on the fact that she had once owned a truck. Regardless of how a person may feel regarding the morality of alternative lifestyles, I feel that it is wrong to assume things about a person’s sexuality because of their preferences in other areas of life.
I believe that “gay-dar” is terrible thing that can actually be hurtful to the people whose sexuality one is attempting to discern from their appearance. I, for one, could tell several stories about people who were deeply wounded by other people who assumed things about their sexual orientation due to their “butch” or “feminine” tendencies, and what makes this even worse is that the people who wounded them actually thought that they were being sensitive by supporting the person’s perceived lifestyle. I find this to be infuriating.
I think that Christians should be especially aware of the hurtful nature of “gay-dar,” as when we do this, we are essentially assigning that person sin. Not only are we projecting that onto that person, but we are sinning ourselves by judging them.
Therefore, when I meet a new person, I assume them to be a monogamous heterosexual, not only for the reasons above, but also because, the last I had heard, only about 11% of the world’s population practice homo- or by- sexuality. However, if it does come out that they are in fact in an alternative lifestyle, I think no differently of them. I have a problem with homosexuality, not homosexuals. Jesus loves homosexuals so much that He died for them. Yes, I do believe that homosexuality is a sin (see 1 Cor. 6:9), but so is lying (see 1 Peter 3:10).
Friday, February 16, 2007
Something Funny
“Did you know that the word “porcelain” comes from the Italian word for “pig vagina” or “little pig”?” –Dell (my studio teacher)
“I’m making “Trabbits.”” –Travis
“Were you following my lead or was I following yours?”
“I don’t know. How’d we end up here?” –Jesse (from KCAI, not my brother in law) and I in Home Depot
“Make sure to be in a very calm, Zen state while driving with Jesse.” -Tasha warning me about Jesse’s driving.
“It really wasn’t a big deal, because I’d cut through that lawn all the time to freak out my friend when he was drunk in the backseat.” -Jesse explaining to me why Tasha had warned me about his driving.
“They would do this thing called “bear slapping.”” –Dell
“My BS degree is in Chemistry. There are 93 elements on the periodic table.” –Richard (my Western Thought teacher)
“I’m making “Trabbits.”” –Travis
“Were you following my lead or was I following yours?”
“I don’t know. How’d we end up here?” –Jesse (from KCAI, not my brother in law) and I in Home Depot
“Make sure to be in a very calm, Zen state while driving with Jesse.” -Tasha warning me about Jesse’s driving.
“It really wasn’t a big deal, because I’d cut through that lawn all the time to freak out my friend when he was drunk in the backseat.” -Jesse explaining to me why Tasha had warned me about his driving.
“They would do this thing called “bear slapping.”” –Dell
“My BS degree is in Chemistry. There are 93 elements on the periodic table.” –Richard (my Western Thought teacher)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Misplaced or Well Placed?
This one is an apology couched in a story.
I was sick, in my dorm room, listening to Edison Glass, looking at my photo book of Spectacular Ireland, and sipping a latte, when the Holy Spirit entered the room. I was hungry, and dinner was being served in the cafeteria, so I got out of listening to Him by reasoning that it was just my emotions, and left to eat. That was stupid.
When I got back to my room, I asked forgiveness, it was given, and God started speaking again. He brought me to John’s account of the last supper, specifically to the part where He washes His disciples’ feet, and highlighted a verse that I have never much thought of before. It was John 13:7 which says, “Jesus answered him [Peter], “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.””
Having the retrospect of someone who knows the story, I always just took that verse for granted, and I had never really thought of the emotion behind it. Jesus was about to die, and He was the only one who knew it. I know that if I were Him, all I would have wanted was someone to understand and show me sympathy; to let me cry while they held me on the night before I died. Christ was perfectly alone. But even while He was in that place of being totally misunderstood, He ministered to His beloved, right up to the end.
When I titled my blog, what I really meant was “misunderstood” which lead me to feel misplaced, even though I knew that I was not and still am not. As far as I can tell, it is a theme thru out the Bible that the greatest and most critical times in a person’s life is when he or she will feel the most misplaced. Most of the Old Testament prophets suffered greatly when they brought forth the Word of the Lord, so did the Apostles, and Jesus Himself suffered the most of anyone when He was buying us back.
Therefore, who I am I to piss and moan about my life at a liberal college? Persecution only means that I am well placed, not misplaced, and I should count it joy to be stationed at Kansas City Art Institute at this time to serve the will of my God. Knowing this, I must issue an apology to those who have read this blog in its sinful state, and ask their forgiveness, as the contents of this page have not been uplifting or edifying to anyone.
I will still write about things that I think are funny or ridiculous that happen here, but it won’t be to try and evoke your sympathy for my terrible life at art school, twenty minuets away from IHOP, my sister and her husband, along with several wonderful Christian friends.
However, I will keep the phrase “Offensive Confessionals,” in the title, because I think it’s funny, and there are plenty of people who find the Gospel offensive. I just won’t be trying to be offensive anymore.
I love all of you, and thank you for tuning in.
Oh, and Jane doesn’t really hate me, she was just having a bad day, so I’m sorry for that misunderstanding as well.
I was sick, in my dorm room, listening to Edison Glass, looking at my photo book of Spectacular Ireland, and sipping a latte, when the Holy Spirit entered the room. I was hungry, and dinner was being served in the cafeteria, so I got out of listening to Him by reasoning that it was just my emotions, and left to eat. That was stupid.
When I got back to my room, I asked forgiveness, it was given, and God started speaking again. He brought me to John’s account of the last supper, specifically to the part where He washes His disciples’ feet, and highlighted a verse that I have never much thought of before. It was John 13:7 which says, “Jesus answered him [Peter], “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.””
Having the retrospect of someone who knows the story, I always just took that verse for granted, and I had never really thought of the emotion behind it. Jesus was about to die, and He was the only one who knew it. I know that if I were Him, all I would have wanted was someone to understand and show me sympathy; to let me cry while they held me on the night before I died. Christ was perfectly alone. But even while He was in that place of being totally misunderstood, He ministered to His beloved, right up to the end.
When I titled my blog, what I really meant was “misunderstood” which lead me to feel misplaced, even though I knew that I was not and still am not. As far as I can tell, it is a theme thru out the Bible that the greatest and most critical times in a person’s life is when he or she will feel the most misplaced. Most of the Old Testament prophets suffered greatly when they brought forth the Word of the Lord, so did the Apostles, and Jesus Himself suffered the most of anyone when He was buying us back.
Therefore, who I am I to piss and moan about my life at a liberal college? Persecution only means that I am well placed, not misplaced, and I should count it joy to be stationed at Kansas City Art Institute at this time to serve the will of my God. Knowing this, I must issue an apology to those who have read this blog in its sinful state, and ask their forgiveness, as the contents of this page have not been uplifting or edifying to anyone.
I will still write about things that I think are funny or ridiculous that happen here, but it won’t be to try and evoke your sympathy for my terrible life at art school, twenty minuets away from IHOP, my sister and her husband, along with several wonderful Christian friends.
However, I will keep the phrase “Offensive Confessionals,” in the title, because I think it’s funny, and there are plenty of people who find the Gospel offensive. I just won’t be trying to be offensive anymore.
I love all of you, and thank you for tuning in.
Oh, and Jane doesn’t really hate me, she was just having a bad day, so I’m sorry for that misunderstanding as well.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Title-less
People do a lot more talking than living. It’s sounds cynical, but it is reality. We read the Bible, sit in church, have an incredible encounter with the Lord, re-commit ourselves to living a life of no compromise, say that we will learn to operate in the prophetic even in mundane situations, become exhausted from constantly exerting the energy it takes to engage with the Holy Spirit, become frustrated with the very idea of fasting, and a week later think back on the whole thing as a great “mountain top” experience.
I know that this is all coming across very critically, but please know that it is a self-inspired critique. I have just told you in a very long, run-on sentence about much of my Christian experience. I find that what I am really running after a good chunk of the time are the warm and fuzzy feelings of a good time with Jesus. When it comes to actually living a life of surrender, most of the time, I’m a pansy.
Right now, I am gripped with the gravity of the hour at which we live, and it has inspired me to live a life of longsuffering, but where will that conviction go when the Lord is silent? What will I do when He isn’t speaking to me so clearly and I don’t feel Him? How will I act in the dark night of my soul?
My past experience has told me that I will slack off and wait for the next mountain top, and that pattern scares the hell out of me. I want to be God’s friend, His best friend, not the person He invites to his birthday party because we hung out a few times back in the day. Honestly, I am so terrified of repeating the past, I could crap my pants. I don’t dare allow myself any comfort, but rather put on my sackcloth and ashes, crying out to not be a fool, but rather to store up oil that He may know me on the day of His coming.
On a lighter and totally unrelated note, last Friday I was required to go to this concert, where a sophomore spoke to us briefly about her work. She began her speech by telling us that her given name was the one printed in the hand out, however her “Art Name” what Ophelia, and that’s the name that she goes by. It was so ridiculous, that I knew that I needed one, so here it is: Che “Dangerous Mind” Guevara. I don’t know what I did to earn the nick-name, but, hey, it’s my art name and reflective of the fact that no one understands me.
I know that this is all coming across very critically, but please know that it is a self-inspired critique. I have just told you in a very long, run-on sentence about much of my Christian experience. I find that what I am really running after a good chunk of the time are the warm and fuzzy feelings of a good time with Jesus. When it comes to actually living a life of surrender, most of the time, I’m a pansy.
Right now, I am gripped with the gravity of the hour at which we live, and it has inspired me to live a life of longsuffering, but where will that conviction go when the Lord is silent? What will I do when He isn’t speaking to me so clearly and I don’t feel Him? How will I act in the dark night of my soul?
My past experience has told me that I will slack off and wait for the next mountain top, and that pattern scares the hell out of me. I want to be God’s friend, His best friend, not the person He invites to his birthday party because we hung out a few times back in the day. Honestly, I am so terrified of repeating the past, I could crap my pants. I don’t dare allow myself any comfort, but rather put on my sackcloth and ashes, crying out to not be a fool, but rather to store up oil that He may know me on the day of His coming.
On a lighter and totally unrelated note, last Friday I was required to go to this concert, where a sophomore spoke to us briefly about her work. She began her speech by telling us that her given name was the one printed in the hand out, however her “Art Name” what Ophelia, and that’s the name that she goes by. It was so ridiculous, that I knew that I needed one, so here it is: Che “Dangerous Mind” Guevara. I don’t know what I did to earn the nick-name, but, hey, it’s my art name and reflective of the fact that no one understands me.
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