LaughingSeven

10AM Monday the 9th of June. Miserable.

Last year around this same time, I posed a question “What is this place” on my blog. The question was cryptic at best as my effort to go into more than just the question itself was not there. However, a month later put a little more effort into that question with the post, There. Is. More..

Today, I’m at the same place wondering what is this place (MHGS), and how is it that I hope and call myself and others to more. I’ve spent the past year wondering if I had it in me to search for more. It is impossible for me to deny the need for a voice to call others to more….and I wonder how I can call the institution of Mars Hill Graduate School to more:

More responsibility, More truth, and More gospel.

If we truly believe that the gospel is all it’s cracked up to be (especially here at MHGS), then our pursuit for what that gospel is should stop at nothing. The problem is, what is that gospel? Specifically in the context of MHGS, what is the gospel that is taught and encouraged? What we’re taught is that the gospel is the belief that any story can be redeemed …. regardless of how that story was created. And that’s the problem.

I’m convinced that the mission of MHGS has become so engrained in the walls of the school that the very glory we all seek is seemingly found in the creation of disruption and chaos. A far cry from stepping into the story of chaos and disruption …. not the creation of it. 

Just a couple of pictures along my 3.2 mile journey yesterday that took me just shy of an hour and five minutes to complete. Between the stop and go traffic over the I-5 ship-canal bridge, the cobblestone-esque freeway, and the grey day I was thrilled to be in the car for over an hour (reference pics below). Oh, did I mention that I had all three kiddos in the van with me?

I haven’t fully developed my dissertation that will look at Personality disorders (narcissism, bi-polar, borderline, etc) as seen in larger contexts (religion, marriages, race, and others), but here’s a great look into what I’d consider a prime example of a narcissistic religion (or cult, if you will). More thoughts on this later…

“When you’re a Scientologist, and you drive by an accident, you know you have to do something about it, because you know you’re the only one who can really help… We are the way to happiness. We can bring peace and unite cultures.”

Watch the full video here: http://gawker.com/5002269/the-cruise-indoctrination-video-scientology-tried-to-suppress

Yesterday in class, one of my professors made a remark about memorizing a paragraph in one of the therapy books that we are reading. After realizing what he said, he mentioned that he doubts that anyone memorizes things now-a-days anyway. In passing, he asked the class if anyone memorizes anything, like the Bible.

One of the students raised their hand and said that they still do. He knew this student’s history from previous encounters and told the student, “well, we know why you do.” Insinuating that because this student went to a Bible college, that they memorize scripture only because of that.

This brief exchange leads me to a profound sadness this evening. We’re at a seminary (if you can call it a seminary) that finds it all too easy to poke fun at those who hold the Bible to personally adored (as was evident to me from this student) and studied. This isn’t to say that the entire school is of this mindset, but this isn’t the first time that I’ve encountered this approach to the Bible. I have many many more thoughts about this, so I’ll just consider this my foray into the never ending subject of Mars Hill and the Bible.

This morning, I said bye to my wife and kids for the next 10 days. They’re taking an extended trip home to Tennessee to visit some dear friends, and family. It’s only been 12 hours, and the house is way too quiet. I’ve been sitting on my couch reading and writing for the past 3 hours, and have not be asked to play trains, “wipe my boot”, watch a weee-deo, or help find bracelets and puppies.

I miss them. I miss Gabby coming into the living room to find me because she has a boo-boo. I miss Peterson telling me that I can never catch him (which he is right). I miss Stephanie smiling at me from across the room.

I was a mess this morning. Packing my family up in the car and sending them off for a long time is not a happy time. If you’re in TN and you’re going to see them….please give hugs and kisses.

I told God that if dared to let anything happen to them; I would never forgive him. He and I have been sparring all day, and it’s unclear who’s going to “win”.

So….what will I do while they’re gone?

Read. Write. Work. Go to class. Maybe sleep. Watch the Super Bowl. And repeat (except the Super Bowl).

Back to work on my Pneumatology paper for Theology…

The dammed stores are everywhere, and thus you really have to try hard not to end up with a couple of empty Starbucks cups on your car floorboard. It’s just not as sexy to walk around Seattle with your “home-brew” travel mug; and so people are able to buy the cool-kid status for under $5 a day….or visit.

Starbucks’ manifesto is that they want to make sure you don’t have to cross a street to get a good cup of coffee. Seriously, that’s their goal.

“We know that it might be difficult to cross a street, so we want to make it as easy as possible for someone to get a cup of coffee.”

I’ve been sitting here in the Lake City Starbucks for about 2 hours now, and have consumed 1 tall bold drip cup of coffee. Out of pocket expense for this charred cup of brew: $1.58. Since it took me over an hour to drink it, and I’ve still got at least 2 more hours here; I’ll be needing some more in my cup.

And so I walk 6 steps to the overcrowded (by products, not people) order counter for a refill, and am promptly greeted by Starbucks Barista #LL248. You know, there’s not much different about any Starbucks barista that you meet. Regardless of the time of day, they believe that the cup of coffee, tea, or overpriced slice of previously-frozen made-fresh-daily cake/pie/cookie will really make you as happy as they are. Granted, I appreciate the attempt to brighten my day with their over zealous grin and snappy step to get my addiction met with the shortest amount of wait time possible. But then again, am I really appreciative about it? How can I be happy when I’m spending my limited entertainment budget on something that actually makes my teeth yellow, and my breath more rank. And to top it all off, they charge for a refill. If anything, they should pay me to keep drinking their coffee.

So why am I sitting here?

- Close to my hosue.
- Least busy coffee shop around here. This means a lot of space for me
- Two sets of comfy seating areas.

Blah. I really don’t know why I’m here.

Oh yeah, they charge for wifi, too.

So far, I really enjoy this city and the greater “Northwest” region. The weather is much more mild, the activities are endless, and the coffee and beer are fantastic.

But….

I really really don’t like some of what this city “makes” you do. It really feels like they are forcing their religion on me, and I can’t do a thing about it.

Example 1. Crosswalks. You know, those sections on a road that look like a piano with missing keys. Well, they actually use those things up here. And by “use them”, I mean they really use them. I see bumper stickers on cars that say “respect the non-driver”, “equal passage for all”, and “share the road”. I agree that not respecting the cross-walkers could lead to a revolt of epic proportions…but then again, would it really? Is it that insulting for me to not stop for someone who’s wishing to cross the road?

The crazy thing about the crosswalks up here (besides that people use them) is that when people use them, THEY DON’T LOOK BEFORE THEY CROSS. I’m not kidding here. I was driving down a hill on 35th ave the other day (a somewhat busy street) and out of no where a jogger just jumps out onto the road and continues her jog….Not even caring to check to see if I’d stop. Now, I may be a bit self-absorbed about my life, but don’t you think it’s best to maybe take a little peek to see if the car is going to stop? Sure, you could get a lot of money by not looking and getting hit by a car, but I think the possibility of the loss of life would outweigh that of striking it rick by getting struck. I don’t know, maybe that’s just me.

Example 2.0. Recycling (David, this post is for you). Another “moral code” is that of saving the earth…or at least my portion of it. Maybe it’s obtuse of me to think this way (read: self-absorbed…seeing a pattern yet?), but isn’t the whole thought of “saving the earth” like trying to keep those leftovers in your fridge just a couple more days? Depending on your eschatology (ha, I have learned something here at school), you might think that this planet will be here forever, or will eventually end up exploding in a ball of fire (geesh, this could end up a futile exercise in theological interpretations). So, that food you keep in your fridge…it’s going bad, yet it was so yummy and tasty when it was made that you want to keep it around for a while longer. Well guess what, it won’t last. So, in a round about way, we’re recycling to save the planet that will eventually burn.

Example 2.1. Recycling, part 2. Ok, I got a little “off track” in the above example, so I’m going to try and get back to my rant about recycling. I’ve got a chart on my fridge telling me what I can and can’t recycle. I’ve got buckets out back for cans, glass, and other stuff. I’ve got two blue “sliding cans” under the sink for food waste (yep, we don’t have a disposal), and a can for something else (still haven’t figured that one out). I’ve got a trash can in the kitchen for trash. I’ve got a giant green “yard waste” can out back to bag my grass, the squirril poop, and a bunch of other stuff. I’ve got a giant blue can out back for plastics with a number “3″ on the bottom (those numbers really do mean something). Then, lastly, I’ve got a puny 30 gallon “trash” can for the 20 bags of trash my household produces on a weekly basis (not that much, but more than what fits in the can weekly).

I get charged…sit down please….5 freaking dollars for every “extra” bag of trash that I produce (that doesn’t fit into the little “trash can” out back). Oh sure, I can upgrade my trash can to one of those giant cans, but that’ll cost me an extra 30 bucks a month to do so. Another crazy aspect of this whole “trash” thing is that if there’s ANY trash in the recycle cans, they won’t take it….and if there’s recycle stuff in the trash can, you’ll be fined.

Oh, and guess what. Since I’m an “anti-recycler”, I hate babies and want to kill the whales. At least that’s what I’m told, or something like that from the left field bleachers.

I honestly thought that the Northwest preached self-expression and individuality. But evidently I’m unable to express my individuality by not recycling (I’ll stop for the cross-walkers since there’s legit life at stake there).

Yeah, I’m going to catch eight-shades of hell for this post…. Send hate-mail to: antirecycler@samuelrainey.com