A thought came to me the other day and I wanted to get it out on the screen. I think it came from either a FaceBook or Twitter post, but the question was: Is God's forgiveness strong enough to wash satan of his sins?
Resolutions are for Quitters!
It's a new year, and that means there are millions of people joining gyms and by Feburary, those same people are back to eating pizza, chips, and drinking pizza (not that there's anything wrong with that) and then the process repeats in 365 days. I will not be one of those people!
I Always Worry
A part of my youth ministry time really had me questioning if they were getting it. In the end, I was the one who got it.
New Site Look
"my Cove" has updated it's look and I'll do my best to explain why. For the first time, it isn't the "I needed a new look" but a deeper explanation of why I changed. We are all on a road together and I was ignoring all the tell tale signs that I was screwing everything up. Don't worry, I'll continue to post like before but now more frequently.
Your Music Sucks
There's a time and place for worship music, however there isn't any reason why all worship music sounds the same or why church worship leaders are using the same boring songs as every other church. How is that helpful to worship?
Déjà vu
You've been in this same spot before, at the same exact moment in time, the same smell, the same clothes: you've done this same thing before but you haven't done it before.
Thursday, June 2
Friday, May 20
The End is Nigh (just not this Saturday)!
2:46 PM
Jesse
The End is Nigh!
I wasn't going to even touch this flaming hive of radioactive bees, but I was randomly flipping through my radio dial on the way home and the guy on that side of the microphone started in on me.
He began to say that that Rapture will be Saturday, and that God even said he was going to let His people in on the date of Christ's second coming, and that it was this Saturday. Normally I would just flip to my metal station, but in all honesty I hadn't heard a single bit of decent evidence that made me think "Okay, maybe they're right" so I was hoping for something to set a fire under me to jump onto the Rapture Train (which, ironically enough, is the name of my Michael W. Smith tribute band).
This guy said the same things that every other person has been saying, but it made me furious because it looks over the most obvious things the bible says. I started arguing with the radio in disbelief that he really was over looking the basic concept of "thief in the night" and was being over analytical of the same verses he was saying was being misinterpreted.
Then, in a fit of rage you can only have with someone on the radio, I screamed out "Why would God want us when we're at this such a broken pile of junk?"
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
God wouldn't want us right now. Why? The church is at its own throat instead of being the beacon we're called to be. We're arguing over dogmatic principles instead of going out and changing the world. God isn't going to take His people because the boat wouldn't be filled enough. Yes, there are some very powerful people changing the world, but the Church as a whole is really missing the mark.
Take these people claiming the Rapture is Saturday. All they're doing is saying "repent, the end is nigh" and what does that do? The end is always "nigh" if you think about it: Rapture or not. We're all on the brink of dying in a random accident, heart attack behind the wheel, or a bad prescription interaction.
The End is Nigh!
These churches that are claiming Saturday is our last time to repent, but they're missing the fact of what repenting means, what kinds of radical changes happen when Christ comes into your heart, and what kind of changes you can make in others, for others, all because of this change.
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
Those claiming other aren't doing anything but promoting fear. They're standing on their corners with their bullhorns. How are they helping? Who are they saving? No one comes to Christ through fear, only pure acceptance. God isn't a God of fear, but one of love. He wouldn't have put Christ to suffer on a cross to scare us into salvation.
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
Here we sit (myself included) arguing amongst one another, pointing fingers, claiming things about God, biblical teachings, personal beliefs, all of this while millions die of starvation in our own backyard. God wouldn't want His children home yet, vecause we're not ready to go home, we're not done with what we're called here to do.
The real issue is what happens Sunday morning, midnight, or even 6:01 EST? We will all be still here, people will still be dying, children will still be starving, and these people speaking for the Church, and at 6:02 EST the Church is put onto trial, by those who have always said God is false, and the Church, as a whole, takes two very large steps backwards, all because these false prophets who people believe speak for Christ, for all of us, but they don't. They speak for themselves in a very blatant breaking of the third commandment: "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name." Exodus 20:7.
Lord, please remind us why we're really here: to do Your work, not our own. Open our hearts to understand the way to You isn't through threats, fear, fire, or brimstone, but through love, and sacrifice, and the truth. Lord, be with those who are afraid they're not worthy of Your love, and remind us all that Your grace is open to all who are open to Your change.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
PS: See you all Sunday morning.
I wasn't going to even touch this flaming hive of radioactive bees, but I was randomly flipping through my radio dial on the way home and the guy on that side of the microphone started in on me.
He began to say that that Rapture will be Saturday, and that God even said he was going to let His people in on the date of Christ's second coming, and that it was this Saturday. Normally I would just flip to my metal station, but in all honesty I hadn't heard a single bit of decent evidence that made me think "Okay, maybe they're right" so I was hoping for something to set a fire under me to jump onto the Rapture Train (which, ironically enough, is the name of my Michael W. Smith tribute band).
This guy said the same things that every other person has been saying, but it made me furious because it looks over the most obvious things the bible says. I started arguing with the radio in disbelief that he really was over looking the basic concept of "thief in the night" and was being over analytical of the same verses he was saying was being misinterpreted.
Then, in a fit of rage you can only have with someone on the radio, I screamed out "Why would God want us when we're at this such a broken pile of junk?"
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
God wouldn't want us right now. Why? The church is at its own throat instead of being the beacon we're called to be. We're arguing over dogmatic principles instead of going out and changing the world. God isn't going to take His people because the boat wouldn't be filled enough. Yes, there are some very powerful people changing the world, but the Church as a whole is really missing the mark.
Take these people claiming the Rapture is Saturday. All they're doing is saying "repent, the end is nigh" and what does that do? The end is always "nigh" if you think about it: Rapture or not. We're all on the brink of dying in a random accident, heart attack behind the wheel, or a bad prescription interaction.
The End is Nigh!
These churches that are claiming Saturday is our last time to repent, but they're missing the fact of what repenting means, what kinds of radical changes happen when Christ comes into your heart, and what kind of changes you can make in others, for others, all because of this change.
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
Those claiming other aren't doing anything but promoting fear. They're standing on their corners with their bullhorns. How are they helping? Who are they saving? No one comes to Christ through fear, only pure acceptance. God isn't a God of fear, but one of love. He wouldn't have put Christ to suffer on a cross to scare us into salvation.
This is why there will be no Rapture Saturday.
Here we sit (myself included) arguing amongst one another, pointing fingers, claiming things about God, biblical teachings, personal beliefs, all of this while millions die of starvation in our own backyard. God wouldn't want His children home yet, vecause we're not ready to go home, we're not done with what we're called here to do.
The real issue is what happens Sunday morning, midnight, or even 6:01 EST? We will all be still here, people will still be dying, children will still be starving, and these people speaking for the Church, and at 6:02 EST the Church is put onto trial, by those who have always said God is false, and the Church, as a whole, takes two very large steps backwards, all because these false prophets who people believe speak for Christ, for all of us, but they don't. They speak for themselves in a very blatant breaking of the third commandment: "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name." Exodus 20:7.
Lord, please remind us why we're really here: to do Your work, not our own. Open our hearts to understand the way to You isn't through threats, fear, fire, or brimstone, but through love, and sacrifice, and the truth. Lord, be with those who are afraid they're not worthy of Your love, and remind us all that Your grace is open to all who are open to Your change.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
PS: See you all Sunday morning.
Tuesday, May 10
Do we all forget the bad?
5:43 AM
Jesse
Sunday night we (I have returned to my 6:00 p.m. Refinery service, much to my own relief) started a series on Judges. No, not Judy, Wapner, or Joe Brown, but Shamgar, Deborah, Jephthah, and Samson (to name a few). Now, I’m not highly familiar with Judges, save for Samson’s epic 1000 kill streak with a donkey’s jawbone, so it’s going to be a great series. It not only gives me a reason to look closer at a book I have actually overlook and skipped plenty of times, but it also gives me a chance to jump back into home with a series based around a book of the bible, not a book with some jibba-jabba of how hell is empty.
The last part was a joke. I’m a humorous, remember?
Well, during our intro to Judges, Pastor John talked about how Israel got into this downward spiral of falling away from God, going back to God, and falling away from God, each time getting progressively worse, instead of progressively better. He said Israel fell into the habits they had gotten use to, forgot how they screwed up before, and continued to screw up, finally calling for help, which God gave in for of a Judge, and then they were back doing things all over again, but this time much worse than the generation before. A lot of this had to do with Israel forgetting its past, because we have a tendency to forget the bad stuff that happens in our past.
I thought about that for a moment and let it slide by, but then I really started to think about that statement. Maybe it was because I don’t have a lot of happy memories, or because I may be mentally unstable, but I remember my bad memories, I remember a lot of them, and to be blunt, it makes me a little worried.
Childhoods should be happy, no doubt about that, and to think there are a lot of happy memories, most of mine are slightly dark and depressing. I have a few happy memories, and those mostly have to do with me being alone, and then that’s where it gets dark.
Israel had it rough. They were slaves, brought out of Egypt by a guy with a stutter claiming to be lead by the almighty God. If I was Israel, I’d try to hold onto the good times too. The Red Sea, and the Mana, or the time Moses came off the mountain and saw us partying and broke those giant tablets he was carrying. Man, that was a good party.
Israel is like a child hiding from its past. It doesn’t want to remember what happened, so it holds onto the good stuff to make it through, and then when it hits the fan (you know what “it” is), they plead with God, who is ever loving, and He smiles on them, giving them a Judge to smite their enemies, and get business in order.
I’m not sure when God is sending me my own Samson to smite my enemies, and yes, I know Jesus was that Judge (stop with the Jesus Jukes, okay?) but you know, sometimes we just need a smiter to smite those worth smiting...
Growing up, I had a smiter. His name was Ricky, and for the record he was in fact a stuffed raccoon. Not like a taxidermist stuffed raccoon, but a cute cartoony stuffed animal kind. He smited the darkness, the things that went bump in the night, the horrible days of school, the lousy games of t-ball, the nightmares, the what evers; Ricky was my Judge. He lost an eye during a battle with my older cousin, and I still remember that night, like all the other dark memories.
I don’t too often think back to my childhood. Mainly because, try as I might to think of the good things, I come up short. That doesn’t keep me holding onto the good times and forcing my subconscious to push back the bad. The good times are in deep contrast to the bad times, and do remind me there was a decent enough childhood that I didn’t end up a serial killer, or something worse... like a scientologist... or even more so worse... a universalist...
The last part was a joke. I’m a humorous, remember?
Well, during our intro to Judges, Pastor John talked about how Israel got into this downward spiral of falling away from God, going back to God, and falling away from God, each time getting progressively worse, instead of progressively better. He said Israel fell into the habits they had gotten use to, forgot how they screwed up before, and continued to screw up, finally calling for help, which God gave in for of a Judge, and then they were back doing things all over again, but this time much worse than the generation before. A lot of this had to do with Israel forgetting its past, because we have a tendency to forget the bad stuff that happens in our past.
I thought about that for a moment and let it slide by, but then I really started to think about that statement. Maybe it was because I don’t have a lot of happy memories, or because I may be mentally unstable, but I remember my bad memories, I remember a lot of them, and to be blunt, it makes me a little worried.
Childhoods should be happy, no doubt about that, and to think there are a lot of happy memories, most of mine are slightly dark and depressing. I have a few happy memories, and those mostly have to do with me being alone, and then that’s where it gets dark.
Israel had it rough. They were slaves, brought out of Egypt by a guy with a stutter claiming to be lead by the almighty God. If I was Israel, I’d try to hold onto the good times too. The Red Sea, and the Mana, or the time Moses came off the mountain and saw us partying and broke those giant tablets he was carrying. Man, that was a good party.
Israel is like a child hiding from its past. It doesn’t want to remember what happened, so it holds onto the good stuff to make it through, and then when it hits the fan (you know what “it” is), they plead with God, who is ever loving, and He smiles on them, giving them a Judge to smite their enemies, and get business in order.
I’m not sure when God is sending me my own Samson to smite my enemies, and yes, I know Jesus was that Judge (stop with the Jesus Jukes, okay?) but you know, sometimes we just need a smiter to smite those worth smiting...
Growing up, I had a smiter. His name was Ricky, and for the record he was in fact a stuffed raccoon. Not like a taxidermist stuffed raccoon, but a cute cartoony stuffed animal kind. He smited the darkness, the things that went bump in the night, the horrible days of school, the lousy games of t-ball, the nightmares, the what evers; Ricky was my Judge. He lost an eye during a battle with my older cousin, and I still remember that night, like all the other dark memories.
I don’t too often think back to my childhood. Mainly because, try as I might to think of the good things, I come up short. That doesn’t keep me holding onto the good times and forcing my subconscious to push back the bad. The good times are in deep contrast to the bad times, and do remind me there was a decent enough childhood that I didn’t end up a serial killer, or something worse... like a scientologist... or even more so worse... a universalist...
Monday, May 9
Dreams
5:24 AM
Jesse
To preface this, I normally wouldn't post such a private thing such as a dream to this site, but this one really has me thinking about how the mind works, and how powerful it really is.
Before I can tell you about this dream, I have to take you back to 1993. I had my first operation in September of 1993, and during that time I had a lot of television watching, being cooped up in bed and all. Well, that same year, at that same time, Fox put out this little show called the X-Files, you may have heard of it. Anyway, to make a long story short, after seeing the first few episodes, I was hooked, and sometime between then and the end of the first season, I had this dream where I was on vacation when I stumbled upon this film crew, filming something another, which I learned was an episode of the X-Files. Being the nerd boy I was, I stuck around and I was in a leg cast, and was in a wheelchair, so the crew was kind of nice, and one day one guy let me behind the scenes. Well, while back there, the director, who I had no idea what he looked like or whatnot, anyway the director was screaming at someone another about an actor missing. He then came around and saw me sitting there and was like "Do you mind doing a stand in so we can at least get something done?" and I was like "Do what?" and he was like "I need to get the camera angles and lighting right, but our actor playing the cripple isn't here yet." "Sure!" So he takes me to this set, that looks like an interrogation room and puts me behind the table and he starts moving around, well David Duchovny comes in and is like "Oh, good, he's here" but the director is like "No, this is just a stand in, the real guy is way late" so Duchovny goes "Let the kid do the lines, there's like a whole five lines." So the director asks if I have any experience and I go "No" to which he says "perfect, you'll do anyway, we're behind schedule" so he gives me the script and then we're all of a sudden about to shoot, so Duchovny sits down across the desk from me and I start the scene, and it's going perfect, and Gillian Anderson walks in and does her lines, and I shoot mine back, and then that's the scene, and then this kid comes in and thanks me for warming up his spot, but the director yells at him about being on time, and the kid is like "You can't use this, he isn't union" and the director gets all POed. I'm suddenly leaving the set, really POed, when Gillian Anderson comes out and is like "You did good in there, but Duchovny says they can't use the shot because you're not union. She thanks me again and Duchovny comes out with a VCR tape and hands it to me, tells me I should keep it. The two of them sign it, I thank them and off I go.
What does this have to do with anything? It gets weird now...
Last night I have this dream that I'm on vacation with just about every direct family member I know. Myself, my wife, my daughter, my parents, and my wife's parents, and we're in Las Vegas, and it's late and as we're going back to the hotel room my wife reminds me of the cooking class I had signed up for when we arrived at the hotel. The hotel's restaurant is owned by Wolfgang Puck, so I'm like, hey if Wolfgang's best chef is giving a class, I'm in. So I roll down to the restaurant and it's packed, way packed, and I'm like what the hell is going on. There's a camera crew, and there's some white drapes up that weren't there that morning, so I'm a little confused. I go up to the maitre'd and tell him I'm here for the cooking class, and he says the chef is running a little behind but he tells me the room off to the side is for the class. I roll over to this side room and it's a little dark and it's showing the history of the restaurant, and Wolfgang, and I slide into this small open spot in front of these two people who I can't see because of the darkness and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's Gillian Anderson and I look like a deer in headlights and I whisper "Hey." She leaves over and says something to the guy behind me and I turn and it's David Duchovny. He smiles and is like "long time no see" and I'm all like "YEAH!" so when the video is over and the lights come up, the two are all "Wow, what a small world..." and I'm like "Holy crap, what the hell?" and Duchovny is like "Carter and the two of us still talk about the day you showed up out of no where and saved the day" and I was like "You're pulling a fast one, right? The camera crew out there is like Candid Camera, right?" and Duchovny is like "No, it's for my show, we're here to film with Wolfgang, and now I have an even better idea. Duchovny excuses himself and Anderson starts asking about what I'm doing in Vegas, and I show her pictures of my wife and daughter, and we're making small talk when Duchovny comes in with Wolfgang and he's like "Forget the cooking demo, it's boring, I've got another plan" and he pushes me into this small back room with all these cameras and I'm shaking a little and Duchovny's like "Okay, so I have this show I'm shooting a pilot on and it's just improve stuff, and we're just going to go with the flow of the scene, so I want you to just have fun. Forget the cameras are there." "What?" He explains it to me again, and I turn around and at this table is Anderson, a midget, now Duchovny, and Al Roker. There are playing cards and poker chips and I slide up to the table, put on a hat that was hanging on the back of my wheelchair and toss on a pair of sunglasses.
Filming starts, I act like I loose my first hand, Roker says "You've lost the last five hands, it may be easier to play without the sunglasses." I snap back "Listen, if I want your opinion I'll ask Willard Scott, okay? Are we clear about that?" Roker slams his hand down and goes "I'm tired of being the only black guy at these games." and Anderson goes "Wait, you're black?" Duchovny follows suit (pardon that pun) and is like "No, Lauer is the token guy on that show. Now, where are the sandwiches?" Wolfgang comes in with a plate of sandwiches, I grab one, bite into it and spit it out. "Wolfy, what the hell is this?" "It's a tea sandwich. Cucumber, a nice wine sauce." I slap the tray out of his hand and yell at him "I wanted just peanut butter sandmaches, not this crap! Who eats this crap?" "Well..." Roker snaps at him "and bring me a beer, Miller Lite." Everyone stops and looks at Roker "Miller Lite?" Anderson smirks "I probably have more hair on my chest that you do..." something another happens and I'm suddenly outside the room, watching the playback on Duchovny's laptop and we're all laughing, and Roker goes "How do you know this guy?" and Anderson goes "He saved us back while we were filming the second season of X-Files. We had this actor who thought his stuff didn't smell and Jesse shows up and steals his job." "I wasn't union so they couldn't use the shot, the actor was fired and all was well in the world." Roker asked something on the lines of what kind of work I had been doing since and I told him living a normal life, and then Duchovny hands me this envelope, and I open it and inside is this card, and he's like "I signed you up for the union, you'll get all kinds of weird mail, just ignore it unless it looks interesting." and then I wake up.
I've never questioned the strength of the mind. The abilities it has to control the body amazes me, alone, but this blew me away. A dream I had years ago is put into the subconscious only to be randomly pulled out for no reason but to completely amaze me.
However, if I'm ever in Vegas, and I end up in a fictional poker game with Al Roker, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Wolfgang Puck, I'll have this entry to prove my ability to see into the future.
Or I'll have this entry to prove beyond a mater act that I am not in sound mind nor body. I have another post brewing that has nothing to do with X-Files, David Duchovny, or Gillian Anderson being racist.
Before I can tell you about this dream, I have to take you back to 1993. I had my first operation in September of 1993, and during that time I had a lot of television watching, being cooped up in bed and all. Well, that same year, at that same time, Fox put out this little show called the X-Files, you may have heard of it. Anyway, to make a long story short, after seeing the first few episodes, I was hooked, and sometime between then and the end of the first season, I had this dream where I was on vacation when I stumbled upon this film crew, filming something another, which I learned was an episode of the X-Files. Being the nerd boy I was, I stuck around and I was in a leg cast, and was in a wheelchair, so the crew was kind of nice, and one day one guy let me behind the scenes. Well, while back there, the director, who I had no idea what he looked like or whatnot, anyway the director was screaming at someone another about an actor missing. He then came around and saw me sitting there and was like "Do you mind doing a stand in so we can at least get something done?" and I was like "Do what?" and he was like "I need to get the camera angles and lighting right, but our actor playing the cripple isn't here yet." "Sure!" So he takes me to this set, that looks like an interrogation room and puts me behind the table and he starts moving around, well David Duchovny comes in and is like "Oh, good, he's here" but the director is like "No, this is just a stand in, the real guy is way late" so Duchovny goes "Let the kid do the lines, there's like a whole five lines." So the director asks if I have any experience and I go "No" to which he says "perfect, you'll do anyway, we're behind schedule" so he gives me the script and then we're all of a sudden about to shoot, so Duchovny sits down across the desk from me and I start the scene, and it's going perfect, and Gillian Anderson walks in and does her lines, and I shoot mine back, and then that's the scene, and then this kid comes in and thanks me for warming up his spot, but the director yells at him about being on time, and the kid is like "You can't use this, he isn't union" and the director gets all POed. I'm suddenly leaving the set, really POed, when Gillian Anderson comes out and is like "You did good in there, but Duchovny says they can't use the shot because you're not union. She thanks me again and Duchovny comes out with a VCR tape and hands it to me, tells me I should keep it. The two of them sign it, I thank them and off I go.
What does this have to do with anything? It gets weird now...
Last night I have this dream that I'm on vacation with just about every direct family member I know. Myself, my wife, my daughter, my parents, and my wife's parents, and we're in Las Vegas, and it's late and as we're going back to the hotel room my wife reminds me of the cooking class I had signed up for when we arrived at the hotel. The hotel's restaurant is owned by Wolfgang Puck, so I'm like, hey if Wolfgang's best chef is giving a class, I'm in. So I roll down to the restaurant and it's packed, way packed, and I'm like what the hell is going on. There's a camera crew, and there's some white drapes up that weren't there that morning, so I'm a little confused. I go up to the maitre'd and tell him I'm here for the cooking class, and he says the chef is running a little behind but he tells me the room off to the side is for the class. I roll over to this side room and it's a little dark and it's showing the history of the restaurant, and Wolfgang, and I slide into this small open spot in front of these two people who I can't see because of the darkness and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's Gillian Anderson and I look like a deer in headlights and I whisper "Hey." She leaves over and says something to the guy behind me and I turn and it's David Duchovny. He smiles and is like "long time no see" and I'm all like "YEAH!" so when the video is over and the lights come up, the two are all "Wow, what a small world..." and I'm like "Holy crap, what the hell?" and Duchovny is like "Carter and the two of us still talk about the day you showed up out of no where and saved the day" and I was like "You're pulling a fast one, right? The camera crew out there is like Candid Camera, right?" and Duchovny is like "No, it's for my show, we're here to film with Wolfgang, and now I have an even better idea. Duchovny excuses himself and Anderson starts asking about what I'm doing in Vegas, and I show her pictures of my wife and daughter, and we're making small talk when Duchovny comes in with Wolfgang and he's like "Forget the cooking demo, it's boring, I've got another plan" and he pushes me into this small back room with all these cameras and I'm shaking a little and Duchovny's like "Okay, so I have this show I'm shooting a pilot on and it's just improve stuff, and we're just going to go with the flow of the scene, so I want you to just have fun. Forget the cameras are there." "What?" He explains it to me again, and I turn around and at this table is Anderson, a midget, now Duchovny, and Al Roker. There are playing cards and poker chips and I slide up to the table, put on a hat that was hanging on the back of my wheelchair and toss on a pair of sunglasses.
Filming starts, I act like I loose my first hand, Roker says "You've lost the last five hands, it may be easier to play without the sunglasses." I snap back "Listen, if I want your opinion I'll ask Willard Scott, okay? Are we clear about that?" Roker slams his hand down and goes "I'm tired of being the only black guy at these games." and Anderson goes "Wait, you're black?" Duchovny follows suit (pardon that pun) and is like "No, Lauer is the token guy on that show. Now, where are the sandwiches?" Wolfgang comes in with a plate of sandwiches, I grab one, bite into it and spit it out. "Wolfy, what the hell is this?" "It's a tea sandwich. Cucumber, a nice wine sauce." I slap the tray out of his hand and yell at him "I wanted just peanut butter sandmaches, not this crap! Who eats this crap?" "Well..." Roker snaps at him "and bring me a beer, Miller Lite." Everyone stops and looks at Roker "Miller Lite?" Anderson smirks "I probably have more hair on my chest that you do..." something another happens and I'm suddenly outside the room, watching the playback on Duchovny's laptop and we're all laughing, and Roker goes "How do you know this guy?" and Anderson goes "He saved us back while we were filming the second season of X-Files. We had this actor who thought his stuff didn't smell and Jesse shows up and steals his job." "I wasn't union so they couldn't use the shot, the actor was fired and all was well in the world." Roker asked something on the lines of what kind of work I had been doing since and I told him living a normal life, and then Duchovny hands me this envelope, and I open it and inside is this card, and he's like "I signed you up for the union, you'll get all kinds of weird mail, just ignore it unless it looks interesting." and then I wake up.
I've never questioned the strength of the mind. The abilities it has to control the body amazes me, alone, but this blew me away. A dream I had years ago is put into the subconscious only to be randomly pulled out for no reason but to completely amaze me.
However, if I'm ever in Vegas, and I end up in a fictional poker game with Al Roker, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Wolfgang Puck, I'll have this entry to prove my ability to see into the future.
Or I'll have this entry to prove beyond a mater act that I am not in sound mind nor body. I have another post brewing that has nothing to do with X-Files, David Duchovny, or Gillian Anderson being racist.
Tuesday, April 19
The Pride in Social Networking
1:21 PM
Jesse
If you're reading this, that means you probably got the link from Twitter or someone posted a link on FaceBook. These social networks, have become something of an oddity. We once believed in privacy, in being able to find a quiet corner, disconnect, and maybe even get away without anyone knowing.
This is really tough with the advent of FaceBook, Twitter and MySpace (err... my|_| whatever that matters...). Many of us post constantly, repost things others have said, and post to both FaceBook and Twitter at the same time. It's part email, part chat, part over consuming. We have draw away from our privacy for a more connected world. The question I propose is at what cost.
If you're on Twitter, there's a hashtag #serve4seven that lists a lot of people doing things for other people. The one that caught my attention was a retweet from Pete Wilson, one of the Christian bloggers I follow. The retweet said:
I, in no way shape or form, am saying these actions to serve are out of pride. I can't take away the service these people are doing for God. I can't take that from them, at all, I don't have the ability. In all honesty, and in agreement with everything I personally have grown to consider, I actually do believe God's work is being done, and that hashtag will be revisited by me more than once this week.
I am in love with the fact that so many people can stay in contact on so many different levels. Was I excited when I won a guitar pedal from Lee Bezotte or he posted a comment on this blog? Heck Yeah! Did I go fan boy nuts when Damon Lindelof responded and retweeted my Lost love? YES, yes I did! (I still have days where I just look at the retweet). How much of a dork did I become when Paul Steinbrueck commented on a post one his tweets inspired me? A lot! Am I giddy that I have a copy of Churched coming signed from Matthew Paul Turner? More than I should. I'll be honest, I was happy to see my pastor comment on my New American Hymnal post. Do these people know what kind of impact they have on me? Probably not, well, maybe Turner because he knows these kinds of things, it's weird.
Social Media is a little on the narcissistic side. We post things thinking people want to hear about it. Some of us even vlog, hoping that something we say or do makes an impression on someone. I personally do it because I think more people need to laugh. I'm all about laughing to me. Yes, I can be really serious most of the time, but sometimes, we really just need to laugh. My vlogs are about that...
Anyway, back to being narcissistic...
I believe that in the moment of an action, we do because we want to do. I doubt anyone really plans to go and do good. Yes, there are some planning stages involved, but no one has ever probably said "Okay, I'm going to plan to plan to go and feed the homeless" all the while having no real desire to feed the homeless. I've never been lead to do something like that. I have wanted to send shoes to children, or help with a women's shelter, raise money for cancer research, but I've never really been lead to feed the homeless. It's not something God has placed on my heart. I'm not saying it's something I wouldn't do, but it's not something I could just start out of thin air.
In that same sense, in the moment of doing, I believe we are in service to those in need, and in turn, in service to God. When we take that moment of service and smear it with our ego and pride, it is no longer a service to God. We are in service to ourselves, creating an idol of ourselves in place of God's image. It sounds drastic, but it's the truth. We wedge pride into service and it becomes a giant spectacle of our egotistical ways. When we constantly do good and parade it in front of people, we're no longer doing good, but being selfish. It's the two year old mentality: "look what I can do!"
I'm not saying every post on Twitter is ego driven. I believe God uses all the tools He has given His people (yes, I believe God gave us Twitter as much as God gave us life), and sometimes it only take one tweet to brighten even the darkest of days.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
This is really tough with the advent of FaceBook, Twitter and MySpace (err... my|_| whatever that matters...). Many of us post constantly, repost things others have said, and post to both FaceBook and Twitter at the same time. It's part email, part chat, part over consuming. We have draw away from our privacy for a more connected world. The question I propose is at what cost.
If you're on Twitter, there's a hashtag #serve4seven that lists a lot of people doing things for other people. The one that caught my attention was a retweet from Pete Wilson, one of the Christian bloggers I follow. The retweet said:
RT @KriSheena1: @crosspoint_tv bought a homeless man lunch...shine your light and let the whole world see #serve4sevenAt first I was, wow, cool. Then I clicked on the hastag, and then I began to read, and I smiled, a lot, and I was lifted up out of the yucky I was feeling, and then the thought came to me: I wonder how many people are posting to get recognized for posting, instead of just doing the action to serve.
I, in no way shape or form, am saying these actions to serve are out of pride. I can't take away the service these people are doing for God. I can't take that from them, at all, I don't have the ability. In all honesty, and in agreement with everything I personally have grown to consider, I actually do believe God's work is being done, and that hashtag will be revisited by me more than once this week.
I am in love with the fact that so many people can stay in contact on so many different levels. Was I excited when I won a guitar pedal from Lee Bezotte or he posted a comment on this blog? Heck Yeah! Did I go fan boy nuts when Damon Lindelof responded and retweeted my Lost love? YES, yes I did! (I still have days where I just look at the retweet). How much of a dork did I become when Paul Steinbrueck commented on a post one his tweets inspired me? A lot! Am I giddy that I have a copy of Churched coming signed from Matthew Paul Turner? More than I should. I'll be honest, I was happy to see my pastor comment on my New American Hymnal post. Do these people know what kind of impact they have on me? Probably not, well, maybe Turner because he knows these kinds of things, it's weird.
Social Media is a little on the narcissistic side. We post things thinking people want to hear about it. Some of us even vlog, hoping that something we say or do makes an impression on someone. I personally do it because I think more people need to laugh. I'm all about laughing to me. Yes, I can be really serious most of the time, but sometimes, we really just need to laugh. My vlogs are about that...
Anyway, back to being narcissistic...
I believe that in the moment of an action, we do because we want to do. I doubt anyone really plans to go and do good. Yes, there are some planning stages involved, but no one has ever probably said "Okay, I'm going to plan to plan to go and feed the homeless" all the while having no real desire to feed the homeless. I've never been lead to do something like that. I have wanted to send shoes to children, or help with a women's shelter, raise money for cancer research, but I've never really been lead to feed the homeless. It's not something God has placed on my heart. I'm not saying it's something I wouldn't do, but it's not something I could just start out of thin air.
In that same sense, in the moment of doing, I believe we are in service to those in need, and in turn, in service to God. When we take that moment of service and smear it with our ego and pride, it is no longer a service to God. We are in service to ourselves, creating an idol of ourselves in place of God's image. It sounds drastic, but it's the truth. We wedge pride into service and it becomes a giant spectacle of our egotistical ways. When we constantly do good and parade it in front of people, we're no longer doing good, but being selfish. It's the two year old mentality: "look what I can do!"
I'm not saying every post on Twitter is ego driven. I believe God uses all the tools He has given His people (yes, I believe God gave us Twitter as much as God gave us life), and sometimes it only take one tweet to brighten even the darkest of days.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
Monday, April 11
Don't judge before you read it all... then... don't judge...
5:54 AM
Jesse
There's a lot going on around the Internet, regarding a lot of different things. There is also a lot going on in my life, regarding, surprisingly enough, a lot of different things. I'll start at the beginning!
Friday, April 1
Most important thing I write all day
8:13 AM
Jesse
I've been really thinking about something huge to write about today. If you follow me on Twitter you know I'm now I'm a pastor of the Christ Church of Life, and will be having my first sermon in a parking lot (yet to be determined) on Sunday morning. That's not big enough for this post.
Monday, March 28
I found God at the corner of E Rochambeau Drive and Mooretown Rd...
5:47 AM
Jesse
This past weekend I was able to get away with my family, all of them. This didn't include people I thought were family, or people I felt that I had to change the way I spoke, or was to make them feel more comfortable. It wasn't with people I had to fake who I was, who I am, and who anything else was.
God opened my eyes.
I've been questioning a lot of things lately, the security of my job, the deepness God is in me, and my direction.
This weekend showed me that my family is my real security, that God placed my family into my life because without them I am nothing, and without them I am empty. My real family, not a fakeness that formed due to circumstances, or beliefs, or anything. People I genuinely love... like... family...
I don't say that a lot. I don't say I love people outside of those in my home, but it's the truth. I have finally been shown how life can be, in the gentleness that is God's love, God's light, and I now finally get it: without my wife, my child, my children, my family, I am nothing.
This changes a lot more than I originally thought. This morning, the idea that things have changed didn't frighten me. It soothed me, and I finally understood that.
I get it.
I no longer desire anything but the love and acceptance of those I love and I don't need to do anything to get that, but just be. I feel at peace with that decision. I do, however, have to make sacrifices for them. Those start now.
PAX is out, and in all honesty, it doesn't bother me like I thought it would. Maybe because it's my decision to do so, but family will always come first, and taking that kind of money for my own selfish reasons just blows my mind. I can't do it now. My family wants a house, with a big yard, and I can't provide that by taking seven hundred dollars and run off for the weekend alone.
I've been begging God for a sign, a purpose, anything that makes sense, and this weekend, in the quiet of a hotel room, I found it: in my family.
God, there are so many of us who don't know the way forward, who don't understand the ideals you gave to us through Christ. Mary and Joseph was Jesus' family, and both were with him through it all. That love and devotion he showed us, through them, you showed me through my family. Please be with others who are searching for their family, their purpose, their center through You. Amen.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
God opened my eyes.
I've been questioning a lot of things lately, the security of my job, the deepness God is in me, and my direction.
This weekend showed me that my family is my real security, that God placed my family into my life because without them I am nothing, and without them I am empty. My real family, not a fakeness that formed due to circumstances, or beliefs, or anything. People I genuinely love... like... family...
I don't say that a lot. I don't say I love people outside of those in my home, but it's the truth. I have finally been shown how life can be, in the gentleness that is God's love, God's light, and I now finally get it: without my wife, my child, my children, my family, I am nothing.
This changes a lot more than I originally thought. This morning, the idea that things have changed didn't frighten me. It soothed me, and I finally understood that.
I get it.
I no longer desire anything but the love and acceptance of those I love and I don't need to do anything to get that, but just be. I feel at peace with that decision. I do, however, have to make sacrifices for them. Those start now.
PAX is out, and in all honesty, it doesn't bother me like I thought it would. Maybe because it's my decision to do so, but family will always come first, and taking that kind of money for my own selfish reasons just blows my mind. I can't do it now. My family wants a house, with a big yard, and I can't provide that by taking seven hundred dollars and run off for the weekend alone.
I've been begging God for a sign, a purpose, anything that makes sense, and this weekend, in the quiet of a hotel room, I found it: in my family.
God, there are so many of us who don't know the way forward, who don't understand the ideals you gave to us through Christ. Mary and Joseph was Jesus' family, and both were with him through it all. That love and devotion he showed us, through them, you showed me through my family. Please be with others who are searching for their family, their purpose, their center through You. Amen.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
Tuesday, March 15
I was bullied...
12:27 PM
Jesse
On the way to work this morning, I heard about this video out a kid who was being bullied snap and slam his would be bully onto the sidewalk. I sank into my seat a little and sighed. It flashed memories of my childhood and the problems it always caused me. I was bullied... daily... until the day I graduated high school...
Sunday, March 13
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 3a
8:00 AM
Jesse
I will be honest: using a Toad the Wet Sprocket song as a worship song is like using fruit preservatives on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but just listen to it, read it, feel God's presence.
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 3
7:45 AM
Jesse
I had an epiphany this morning. Don't ask me when it came to me, because those are details you just don't need to hear. The idea went something like this:
I'm not longer going to post about The New American Hymnal.
I'm not longer going to post about The New American Hymnal.
Tuesday, March 8
Living Happily Ever After - a @paulsteinbrueck inspired post
7:34 AM
Jesse
I'm luckily enough to live in a time where I can learn from some of great Christian leaders just by following a blog, or a twitter account, and by reading the Word in their text. I've learned more in the last year than I think I have in the previous 10, but I may have already said that.
Every morning, I have a ritual, at work, where I boot up my computer, then the computer next to me (which is a bit slower to boot). While computer #2 boots up, I open a set of tabs and do a quick overlook through the pages. Twitter is one of those tabs and this morning, I see this tweet from Paul Steinbrueck:
The worst fraud ever bought into: ‘and they lived happily ever after.’ Good relationships take work, lots & lots of hard work. -Dr Saturley
At first look, I agreed but then it hit me: No, Dr. Saturley is wrong. My apologies to Dr. Saturley, but I think you're missing out on something.
We are created to serve, humbly, and by serving in a humble position, we should be happy, or it isn't in a humble fashion we're serving. I know that sounds like a poem, and I guess that's how it came out, but it's true. We are to serve one another, in a humble fashion, and by doing so we are in direct praise of God, with our actions.
I do agree with Dr. Saturley, however, if he was speaking on the automatic condition of happily ever afterness. Things just don't become happy because you're in love. Things are not perfect, but in perfection there is no room for growth, and if you're not growing, you're dying.
I do believe there is happiness in the growth, in the working out messes, and there may be fights, and anger, and frustration, but when you make the conscious decision to change for another then there is happiness.
There is a difference between changing for and changing because of someone. Changing for someone means you're changing because you notice the flaw that irritates the living daylights out of someone, and you don't want to irritate them anymore. This could be as simple as chewing on pen tops or smoking. Changing because of someone means you are changing to impress them, and only them. You wear different clothes, speak differently around them, attempt to learn guitar, ride a bike, etc., just to be accepted by them. Acceptance can be is toxic. I know I have flaws, but I do not believe I should change my hobbies to impress someone. I do not need to change my taste of music to be seen as "okay" by someone. I will not change my views to make someone be okay to talk around me. I will, however, tone my language around them because I know the f-work is too hard for them to handle.
Love is hard, but at the same time, it is happiness ever after, even with the bumps, you're still there with the one you love, and you're both still growing together. There is joy in that alone, and where there is joy, there is happiness.
Love is hard, but at the same time, it is happiness ever after, even with the bumps, you're still there with the one you love, and you're both still growing together. There is joy in that alone, and where there is joy, there is happiness.
Monday, February 28
We're All Wrong!
8:33 AM
Jesse
I'm taking a step away from my new American Hymnal posts for a day because something happened last week that put me on tilt, then this weekend I missed out on a christian pissing match. That kind of stuff just gets under my skin. Also, because poor Pastor John thinks he's done something wrong. He has, but we'll get to that.
So, what am I talking about? Rob Bell. If you don't know who Rob Bell is (I may or may not have mentioned him before), he's like a Hispter Pastor from Grand Rapids, Michigan, and has done a lot of videos (Nooma) books, speaking tours, and gets real deep into the teachings, and he has a new book coming out later this year, and it's already causing issues.
That's from his publisher's website. There's also a video which wouldn't play for me, at work, but I'm not interested in it, because it's a video, not the actual book. Anywho, what we have here is Bell doing what Bell does best: talking to non-christians and christians in the same tone. This makes people nervous, for some odd reason, but in all reality, it's what we should be doing.
I haven't read this book, so all I can do is guess what's going on by the context of what's been said.
From the book description Bell is going to be taking a non-Dante's look into Hell. We all perceive hell differently, but how I see hell is the standard fire, brimstone, pain, anguish, that we've all been taught to fear. I was at a church a few weeks ago where this guy was praying with the children and he actually said "God, thank you for being in my life so I won't go to hell." We all know what hell is, it's bad.
Bell is probably going to be looking at it in a deeper light, probably still pointing out it's Bell, but in a way only Bell can do without looking like he's crazy.
Maybe.
There seems to be another camp of people already lining up to throw stones at bell for this book. John Piper, who I seriously have no clue who he is. Seriously, the name sound familiar but I thought he was the lead singer of Blue's Travelers. Anyway, Piper tweeted as all good Christian pastors do, about the book. In a very offhand and smug way:
He also posted a link to his blog, ripping into Bell for being a Universalist, which is someone who believes everyone is going to heaven. My mother-in-law thinks that. Maybe I can get her to read this book, I know she'd love 'Drops Like Stars' and then maybe, just maybe, Velvet Elvis.
I'm not a participating tithing member of the Church of Bell, but I have seen him speak live during his 'Drops Like Stars' tour, and I have seen a lot of his Nooma videos (Shells and Breath being two personal favorites), and I understand the fascination of his stuff, because he doesn't make it boring or fire/brimestoney but I don't get why people put him on this level that everything he has to say is right OR wrong, there is no gray?
Why aren't people this pissed off when Pat Robertson goes all looney on us or when another Christian musician puts out a crappy record? "There goes Pat, saying stuff that makes him look like an asshat, being all goofy like Pat does, but he gets to keep his card." Bell isn't perfect, and if ONE of his views is off kilter, doesn't mean we need to throw stones and force him to resign from his position of changing lives for the better!
We accept the painfully real sorrows of our brothers and sisters who have done wrong, but since none of us have read the book in a non-partial light, we are doing nothing to shed any real light on the subject.
So, here we have this Piper guy shooting down Bell's book before he has even read it. He has made a decision on the book before even reading it, himself. Throw your stones Piper, you're alright in my book.
Actually, no you're not. I don't know who you are and after this, I'm going to do my best to keep my distance. Consider your invitation to my book release party revoked.
I have nothing to say about Piper's beliefs, or Bells, or the Westborrow Baptist Church, because I have no right to claim I am more right than the next person. Why?
Because I am wrong. My blog plainly states that I know nothing.
No mater how hard we try to understand God's desire for us, we'll always miss the mark on His word. No matter how much we put into understanding Hebrew, or Greek, we're still missing the all important issue of what God wants from us. Bell's book isn't as important as Piper's books are, because none are as important as the book God has given His people.
We can study as much as we want, but without God's holy inspiration everything we write, say and do is wrong. None of us know what God truly wants from any of us, except to be humble servants. Not just servants to him, but to everyone, and sometimes we get to a point where we're all just wrong.
I have recently taken a sabbatical from the service I have been apart of since its inception. Why? I felt it was going in the wrong direction and those who were in power to fix our direction didn't hear me. A part of that is because I couldn't explain what was wrong, and the other part is because of my past outbursts and immature actions, on that I was judged and unheard. I don't blame anyone for that. I did it to myself, and I expected nothing less than to be shrugged off. I was wrong before, and I may be wrong now, but this time I'm not thinking with my feelings, I'm thinking with God's feelings. I'm also wrong for going away, but I felt that if I didn't, that I'd only become jaded and nasty, and no one wants a jaded nasty Christian (Piper, I'm talking to you).
I'm still wrong, though.
God wants His Church to be whole, not to be arguing over on another, over dogmatic principles, and when we stick our own personal beliefs into our prayers, our services, it's no longer a prayer for God, to God, but for ourselves, to ourselves. I can pray to myself all day and get no where, but the moment I redirect, refocus, I take myself out of it, and put God right back in, God moves things.
Is Rob Bell wrong for saying hell is empty? Yes. Is John Piper wrong for call Bell a false prophet? Yes. Am I wrong for calling them both out? Yes. Is it wrong to be scared of clowns? I don't think so, mainly because I'm borderline on the topic, even after Stephen King's IT, but even being borderline is wrong.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
So, what am I talking about? Rob Bell. If you don't know who Rob Bell is (I may or may not have mentioned him before), he's like a Hispter Pastor from Grand Rapids, Michigan, and has done a lot of videos (Nooma) books, speaking tours, and gets real deep into the teachings, and he has a new book coming out later this year, and it's already causing issues.
Fans flock to his Facebook page, his NOOMA videos have been viewed by millions, and his Sunday sermons are attended by 10,000 parishioners—with a downloadable podcast reaching 50,000 more. An electrifying, unconventional pastor whom Time magazine calls “a singular rock star in the church world,” Rob Bell is the most vibrant, central religious leader of the millennial generation. Now, in Love Wins: Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived, Bell addresses one of the most controversial issues of faith—the afterlife—arguing that a loving God would never sentence human souls to eternal suffering. With searing insight, Bell puts hell on trial, and his message is decidedly optimistic—eternal life doesn’t start when we die; it starts right now. And ultimately, Love Wins.
That's from his publisher's website. There's also a video which wouldn't play for me, at work, but I'm not interested in it, because it's a video, not the actual book. Anywho, what we have here is Bell doing what Bell does best: talking to non-christians and christians in the same tone. This makes people nervous, for some odd reason, but in all reality, it's what we should be doing.
I haven't read this book, so all I can do is guess what's going on by the context of what's been said.
From the book description Bell is going to be taking a non-Dante's look into Hell. We all perceive hell differently, but how I see hell is the standard fire, brimstone, pain, anguish, that we've all been taught to fear. I was at a church a few weeks ago where this guy was praying with the children and he actually said "God, thank you for being in my life so I won't go to hell." We all know what hell is, it's bad.
Bell is probably going to be looking at it in a deeper light, probably still pointing out it's Bell, but in a way only Bell can do without looking like he's crazy.
Maybe.
There seems to be another camp of people already lining up to throw stones at bell for this book. John Piper, who I seriously have no clue who he is. Seriously, the name sound familiar but I thought he was the lead singer of Blue's Travelers. Anyway, Piper tweeted as all good Christian pastors do, about the book. In a very offhand and smug way:
Farewell Rob Bell.
He also posted a link to his blog, ripping into Bell for being a Universalist, which is someone who believes everyone is going to heaven. My mother-in-law thinks that. Maybe I can get her to read this book, I know she'd love 'Drops Like Stars' and then maybe, just maybe, Velvet Elvis.
I'm not a participating tithing member of the Church of Bell, but I have seen him speak live during his 'Drops Like Stars' tour, and I have seen a lot of his Nooma videos (Shells and Breath being two personal favorites), and I understand the fascination of his stuff, because he doesn't make it boring or fire/brimestoney but I don't get why people put him on this level that everything he has to say is right OR wrong, there is no gray?
Why aren't people this pissed off when Pat Robertson goes all looney on us or when another Christian musician puts out a crappy record? "There goes Pat, saying stuff that makes him look like an asshat, being all goofy like Pat does, but he gets to keep his card." Bell isn't perfect, and if ONE of his views is off kilter, doesn't mean we need to throw stones and force him to resign from his position of changing lives for the better!
We accept the painfully real sorrows of our brothers and sisters who have done wrong, but since none of us have read the book in a non-partial light, we are doing nothing to shed any real light on the subject.
So, here we have this Piper guy shooting down Bell's book before he has even read it. He has made a decision on the book before even reading it, himself. Throw your stones Piper, you're alright in my book.
Actually, no you're not. I don't know who you are and after this, I'm going to do my best to keep my distance. Consider your invitation to my book release party revoked.
I have nothing to say about Piper's beliefs, or Bells, or the Westborrow Baptist Church, because I have no right to claim I am more right than the next person. Why?
Because I am wrong. My blog plainly states that I know nothing.
No mater how hard we try to understand God's desire for us, we'll always miss the mark on His word. No matter how much we put into understanding Hebrew, or Greek, we're still missing the all important issue of what God wants from us. Bell's book isn't as important as Piper's books are, because none are as important as the book God has given His people.
We can study as much as we want, but without God's holy inspiration everything we write, say and do is wrong. None of us know what God truly wants from any of us, except to be humble servants. Not just servants to him, but to everyone, and sometimes we get to a point where we're all just wrong.
I have recently taken a sabbatical from the service I have been apart of since its inception. Why? I felt it was going in the wrong direction and those who were in power to fix our direction didn't hear me. A part of that is because I couldn't explain what was wrong, and the other part is because of my past outbursts and immature actions, on that I was judged and unheard. I don't blame anyone for that. I did it to myself, and I expected nothing less than to be shrugged off. I was wrong before, and I may be wrong now, but this time I'm not thinking with my feelings, I'm thinking with God's feelings. I'm also wrong for going away, but I felt that if I didn't, that I'd only become jaded and nasty, and no one wants a jaded nasty Christian (Piper, I'm talking to you).
I'm still wrong, though.
God wants His Church to be whole, not to be arguing over on another, over dogmatic principles, and when we stick our own personal beliefs into our prayers, our services, it's no longer a prayer for God, to God, but for ourselves, to ourselves. I can pray to myself all day and get no where, but the moment I redirect, refocus, I take myself out of it, and put God right back in, God moves things.
Is Rob Bell wrong for saying hell is empty? Yes. Is John Piper wrong for call Bell a false prophet? Yes. Am I wrong for calling them both out? Yes. Is it wrong to be scared of clowns? I don't think so, mainly because I'm borderline on the topic, even after Stephen King's IT, but even being borderline is wrong.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
Wednesday, February 23
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 2b
12:40 PM
Jesse
Every Wednesday I'll be posting two NAH posts. One will be an actual post, while the second will be a secular song that I heard on the radio that would gives proof to my theory that all music belongs to God.
Today's selection, Wonderwall by Oasis.
Today's selection, Wonderwall by Oasis.
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 2
11:04 AM
Jesse
Music is a weapon. It can move people to do what the the song writer and singer wants the listener to do. Rage Against the Machine comes to mind, in this context. "No mater how hard you try, you can't stop us now!" Rage was one of those call to arms bands. They wanted their music to make a change in people to stand up against those things that could be changed.
Monday, February 21
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 1
6:32 AM
Jesse
Let me be clear, first off, about my New American Hymnal posts.
I'm not a musician. My hands inability to move in normal ways makes it very difficult to play anything. I had two years of piano lessons through middle school, because I had a nice enough music teacher, but it's been too long and everything I had learned has gone away. I can read music, some what, and remember which notes on a piano are what, but being able to play is something I'm no good at. The same goes with guitar. I self taught myself through the beginnings of a rather well written book, but my hands just don't work like I want them to, so I can't hold down strings hard enough or move finger quick enough. On top of that, I can't play over a Medium setting in Guitar Hero.
That blue button is murder.
I'm not a musician. My hands inability to move in normal ways makes it very difficult to play anything. I had two years of piano lessons through middle school, because I had a nice enough music teacher, but it's been too long and everything I had learned has gone away. I can read music, some what, and remember which notes on a piano are what, but being able to play is something I'm no good at. The same goes with guitar. I self taught myself through the beginnings of a rather well written book, but my hands just don't work like I want them to, so I can't hold down strings hard enough or move finger quick enough. On top of that, I can't play over a Medium setting in Guitar Hero.
That blue button is murder.
Monday, February 14
there is a season...
11:31 AM
Jesse
I had lunch with someone I dearly respect in my Church, and even though they may or may not read this, it did get me to thinking: seasons.
We talked about some things that hadn't worked so well, including this previous years' Advent series: Advent Conspiracy. If you've never head of Advent Conspiracy, do yourself a favor and check it out. It's a great thing, believe me, because it really made me rethink Advent when my then-awesome small group did the small group stuff the year before.
The one thing I said then, while doing the small group study, was "this would be SO powerful as a late September, early October series." mainly because it builds you up for the preparation of Advent, then you could roll it over into a very deep Advent series that could really bring back the focus to Christ. Doing a series about not buying a lot, using the saved money to build water pumps in third world countries is awesome, when you have't already blown the money on Littlest Petshop and My Little Ponies.
Can I get an Amen?
The same goes for the Lent season, but I got a late start on the idea. However, this year I'll be blogging daily (the first few posts from Boston) through Lent, and focusing on a churchwide experiment we did a few years ago called the 40 Days of Nothing. I mentioned the concept before: doing nothing, to do more. Instead of just giving up one thing, do something else in place. Instead of just quitting smoking, use the money you would spend and donate it to an AA group, or the church's food kitchen. The first post will be a retelling of the crucifixion. I don't like focusing on the bloodiness of the endgame of Easter, but we seem to forget that Christ didn't just shed blood and die for us, that he suffered for our sins. Suffered on the cross, for us.
Ever year, in preparation for Lent, I read this article. When I first read it, I was just a baby Christian, that had been set on fire by the Holy Spirit, and when I first read it I cried in shame. I won't spoil the article, but it's titled "The Science of the Crucifixion". I think it's something every Christian should read, at least once, to really grasp the reality that was Christ's suffering.
The second post begins the concept of giving something worldly in the desire to give something to God unworldly. I think that makes sense, right? Then I'll just let the spirit guide me.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
We talked about some things that hadn't worked so well, including this previous years' Advent series: Advent Conspiracy. If you've never head of Advent Conspiracy, do yourself a favor and check it out. It's a great thing, believe me, because it really made me rethink Advent when my then-awesome small group did the small group stuff the year before.
The one thing I said then, while doing the small group study, was "this would be SO powerful as a late September, early October series." mainly because it builds you up for the preparation of Advent, then you could roll it over into a very deep Advent series that could really bring back the focus to Christ. Doing a series about not buying a lot, using the saved money to build water pumps in third world countries is awesome, when you have't already blown the money on Littlest Petshop and My Little Ponies.
Can I get an Amen?
The same goes for the Lent season, but I got a late start on the idea. However, this year I'll be blogging daily (the first few posts from Boston) through Lent, and focusing on a churchwide experiment we did a few years ago called the 40 Days of Nothing. I mentioned the concept before: doing nothing, to do more. Instead of just giving up one thing, do something else in place. Instead of just quitting smoking, use the money you would spend and donate it to an AA group, or the church's food kitchen. The first post will be a retelling of the crucifixion. I don't like focusing on the bloodiness of the endgame of Easter, but we seem to forget that Christ didn't just shed blood and die for us, that he suffered for our sins. Suffered on the cross, for us.
Ever year, in preparation for Lent, I read this article. When I first read it, I was just a baby Christian, that had been set on fire by the Holy Spirit, and when I first read it I cried in shame. I won't spoil the article, but it's titled "The Science of the Crucifixion". I think it's something every Christian should read, at least once, to really grasp the reality that was Christ's suffering.
The second post begins the concept of giving something worldly in the desire to give something to God unworldly. I think that makes sense, right? Then I'll just let the spirit guide me.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
Thursday, February 10
The New American Hymnal [NAH] - Post 0
9:49 AM
Jesse
There's been a lot on my mind lately, about what God is doing in my life, and how He's directing me now more than ever. A lot has been building u to this, but the other night, I jokingly started thinking about writing a Hymnal for the 21st century, and then I was like "Meh, hymnals, whatever..."
Then it hit me that we're in need of a return to our basics, while still moving forward. So many churches focus on one thing and loose touch with who they are, who they should be serving, and the type of people that are missing out on God's glory because this church is too involved with their own self interests.
So, I am going to find me a Hymnal (probably a United Methodist one, I have easier access to those) and break it apart and look at what makes a hymnal, and then start piecing a new one back together. I'm not trying to say "Hey, we need new hymnals" I'm trying to say "Hey, sometimes change is needed, and sometimes options are too."
This thought also comes from the annoyance I have about christian worship music royalties. Churches have to pay for a license to legally use worship music. Yeah, surprises the hell out of me, so I'm proposing that the New American Hymnal©®™ to be Creative Commons.
This is the beginning of a whole new adventure for me. It's going to be a blast!
Then it hit me that we're in need of a return to our basics, while still moving forward. So many churches focus on one thing and loose touch with who they are, who they should be serving, and the type of people that are missing out on God's glory because this church is too involved with their own self interests.
So, I am going to find me a Hymnal (probably a United Methodist one, I have easier access to those) and break it apart and look at what makes a hymnal, and then start piecing a new one back together. I'm not trying to say "Hey, we need new hymnals" I'm trying to say "Hey, sometimes change is needed, and sometimes options are too."
This thought also comes from the annoyance I have about christian worship music royalties. Churches have to pay for a license to legally use worship music. Yeah, surprises the hell out of me, so I'm proposing that the New American Hymnal©®™ to be Creative Commons.
The New American Hymnal by Jesse Webb is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
This is the beginning of a whole new adventure for me. It's going to be a blast!
Friday, February 4
School System of a Down
7:22 AM
Jesse
I was going to be a teacher, because I believed that every child had the right to the best education they worked for. However, after really looking into things, I learned that the system wasn't built for teacher/student relationships, but for the school to create unrealistic goals for students, while the teachers were caught in the crossfire.
This morning only addressed this issue even more. One of my co-workers came to me and asked about a laptop they were going to get to replace their desktop computer. It's a genius idea, but they were looking at a 10" net book for $200. She then asked me about "Power Point" for her kids' homework. I looked at her, confused, and made her rethink the question. She was 99% sure her kids were using Power Point for their homework.
Holy cow, they're already teaching kids how to incorrectly use presentation software. I died a little on the inside and told her that Office was a suite of tools, that couldn't be bought separately. She was a little annoyed that her kids had to have this $200 package that'll only be outdated in a year. Again, I agreed, but on different terms that when undiscussed.
I understand that Microsoft gave away Office with every new computer for a while, and when the government cracked down, they had to remove it, but at the same time the damage had already been done. Gates is a genius, and knowing that if he could get his stuff out only to have to take it away after a while, his product was already out there, and people were already using it, so now they'd have to pay to continue using it. He got us hooked on his product, for free, then the government made him charge for it. The dealer had legal rights to get us addicted. It was genius!
Now the education system is trying to catch up with computer technology, and trying to stay with the pace of how often technology moves, so they implement new ways of teaching, doing homework, etc. I'm taking two online classes this semester, both use an online service that my two lecture classes uses as well. It works. I don't have to buy new software, and since my Office key no longer works on my laptop, then I have to use Open Office, which works just fine. However, the school system says "You have to use Power Point because we are sheep of the great Gates, and... baaah.... and we will follow aimlessly because we've been taught to do so!"
It reminds me of the iconic Apple commercial from the 80's. The woman runs in, while the sheep follow instructions, then throws hammer through the screen. This is the example needing to be taken in today's world: be a hammer thrower! Stop following aimlessly, it's not helping anyone.
This morning only addressed this issue even more. One of my co-workers came to me and asked about a laptop they were going to get to replace their desktop computer. It's a genius idea, but they were looking at a 10" net book for $200. She then asked me about "Power Point" for her kids' homework. I looked at her, confused, and made her rethink the question. She was 99% sure her kids were using Power Point for their homework.
Holy cow, they're already teaching kids how to incorrectly use presentation software. I died a little on the inside and told her that Office was a suite of tools, that couldn't be bought separately. She was a little annoyed that her kids had to have this $200 package that'll only be outdated in a year. Again, I agreed, but on different terms that when undiscussed.
I understand that Microsoft gave away Office with every new computer for a while, and when the government cracked down, they had to remove it, but at the same time the damage had already been done. Gates is a genius, and knowing that if he could get his stuff out only to have to take it away after a while, his product was already out there, and people were already using it, so now they'd have to pay to continue using it. He got us hooked on his product, for free, then the government made him charge for it. The dealer had legal rights to get us addicted. It was genius!
Now the education system is trying to catch up with computer technology, and trying to stay with the pace of how often technology moves, so they implement new ways of teaching, doing homework, etc. I'm taking two online classes this semester, both use an online service that my two lecture classes uses as well. It works. I don't have to buy new software, and since my Office key no longer works on my laptop, then I have to use Open Office, which works just fine. However, the school system says "You have to use Power Point because we are sheep of the great Gates, and... baaah.... and we will follow aimlessly because we've been taught to do so!"
It reminds me of the iconic Apple commercial from the 80's. The woman runs in, while the sheep follow instructions, then throws hammer through the screen. This is the example needing to be taken in today's world: be a hammer thrower! Stop following aimlessly, it's not helping anyone.
Tuesday, January 25
just an idea
11:34 AM
Jesse
I was about to post a tweet, just now, when I decided to open up the idea in more than 140 characters. The tweet would have looked like this:
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm just another fan boy, from time to time, but I follow a hand full of writers, who also happen to be Christian, and I'm more than happy going to their individual sites to read their stuff. However, what would the impact be if all of these writers got together and formed one site, or even contributed to one site while their own sites get their daily hits. I'm talking about actual contributions, not just reposts, but would that be asking too much from a writer? Would you post daily on your own site then weekly, or bi-weekly at another site?
What would this mean, though? It would be a center for online Christian writing. Need to find a Christian bloggers opinion about something, one click, it would have a boat load of them to pick from. Maybe I'm just dreaming big.
Are we ready for a Christian BlogoSphere? ie: a place for Christan bloggers/writers to be just that... or is that focusing too inward?So, what says you? In a shocking response to my own thoughts, I'm actually on both sides of the fence. I believe that the Internet is a hole for evil, and if you don't watch your step, you're bound to fall in. At the same time, I also believe labeling something, or someone, as Christian, there has to be a set criteria. I'm sure, if this was middle school, I wouldn't be allowed in the 'Christian Writers' group at recess. Why? Mainly because I use words that most Christian writers wouldn't use... like "liberal" and "alternative music" but with my egotistical comments aside, they just seem too cool to hang out with me.
Don't get me wrong, I know I'm just another fan boy, from time to time, but I follow a hand full of writers, who also happen to be Christian, and I'm more than happy going to their individual sites to read their stuff. However, what would the impact be if all of these writers got together and formed one site, or even contributed to one site while their own sites get their daily hits. I'm talking about actual contributions, not just reposts, but would that be asking too much from a writer? Would you post daily on your own site then weekly, or bi-weekly at another site?
What would this mean, though? It would be a center for online Christian writing. Need to find a Christian bloggers opinion about something, one click, it would have a boat load of them to pick from. Maybe I'm just dreaming big.
Thursday, January 20
Dungeons and Dragons was God's gift to me
10:59 AM
Jesse
I believe every person should give role playing a chance. Now, I'm not talking video games or weird sex acts, but if I was: I'd suggest Final Fantasy 6 for the former and I won't judge on the later.
What I'm talking about is table top, pencil and paper, old school, role playing. Now, I know Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) isn't "old school" since it's in it's 4th edition of rules, that uses miniatures and a very simplistic video game like rule set. I've never played 4th edition but I've read enough about the beta testing done in the Star Wars: Saga Edition to know: it sounds fantastic!
I know there are a lot of Evangelicals (Evangelicali?) out there that believe DnD is the devil wrapped in a nice candy coat. I could say the same about American Idol, or actually candies coated in candy (MnM's I'm talking to YOU!). However, I will say this: DnD never made me get into witch craft. I got into witch craft because I thought it could bring me power. It didn't bring me anything, because magic should be left to those like David Copperfield, David Blane (who may be the devil), or this guy. I never said magic was fake, because it's not. I've seen magic in the eyes of a toddler who sees someone dressed as Cinderella and believes that person is Cinderella. That's real magic. Witch craft isn't that, it's about being selfish, but I digress.
DnD never made me want to own swords (Braveheart did that), nor did it make me want to dress up in armor and beat people up with real weapons (seeing medieval reenactment did that), nor did it make we want to kill a dragon (seriously, if they were real, who would want to kill one?!). It did make me use my mind, it did make me be imaginative, and it made me think outside the box that sits in the corner filled with boredom. I created worlds, and filled those worlds with people, who lived, who did things, who were all constantly moving, and even though it sounds crazy, my players loved every moment of it.
When I was six, I noticed a silver briefcase sitting in the closet of my father's train room. I asked him about it and he showed me, and at the time I had no clue what it was, but he told me, that when I turned 10, he'd teach me about it. I kind of kept my eye on the briefcase, never really opening it unless he wasn't home, and even then only once or twice. Inside were some books with really cool pictures, a small wooden box with some small metal figures and some weird looking dice, and a handful of pencils.
A week after my 10th birthday, dad came into my bedroom, with the briefcase. He gave me the smaller book, it was thinner, soft covered (compared to the three hand bound ones with the crazy pictures in them), and had the brightest red cover on it, with this awesome looking dragon on the front. He told me to read it, a lot, and in a week we'd talk about what I learned from it.
Now, let's back track between 6 and 10 for a bit. Dad worked around computers as far back as I can remember. He worked around people who coded for the fun of it, and played computer games. My first recollection of watching someone play a video game was Sierra's "King's Quest". I had gone to work with dad, because they had a yearly family picnic and he'd take me to work with him, and around 2 we'd go to the picnic. Those were the bests days I could remember because I was surrounded by all these cool electronic things I couldn't play with. This was in the mid 80's. Now, back to King's Quest. One day, one of dad's co-workers was playing this game, and dad had a meeting he had to go to, so he asked Steve to watch me and, I quote "watch your language around him, he picks up stuff quick". Steve was playing King's Quest, and I watched him, closely. So closely, that years later when I would buy the collector set, I remembered what Steve had done, and it made the game much easier. Anyway, if you've never played King's Quest, the command were very basic, and had to be point on, just about. So, here is Steve, standing in front of the king, trying to figure out what to do next. He's trying everything he can think of, and suddenly he's about the freak out and types "Talk to potato head!" and I loose it. I start laughing, over and over. That day on, I knew Steve as Potato Head. Well, with Steve frustrated in the game, he goes "Here, try." I did. I learned that there are alligators in the moat around the castle. A few years later, I watched as dad's office beat King's Quest 3, in a delightful celebration. I also watched them take very detailed notes. They described each screen in detail on large sheets of graph paper. They made notes about where items were hidden, what screens to avoid, what screens the witch appeared, and the concept of those maps, the games, and the fun would ever be burned into my memory. So, let us fast forward back to when I was 10.
Here I was, reading a starter guide to a game that I didn't need a computer to play. All I needed was a pencil, character sheet, dice, and a dungeon master. In this briefcase were the tools I needed to play Dungeons and Dragons, and dad, having played for some time, would be my Dungeon Master. The week was over, and we talked about the rules, what each race and class contributed to a character, and how the adventure in the book would be my first, but I had to get to it, first. He wouldn't just throw me into the cave, I had to find it first. So, we rolled up my very first character, Silverblade the Human Fighter, and off we went. I came before the king, and was told to search out for a lost relic of the kingdom. This relic was last seen north of the kingdom, in a cave by an explorer who wasn't brave enough to stick around when things got rough. Dad took a piece of graph paper and drew out a rough map of the kingdom and he decided to do a King's Quest style adventure, where each direction I took brought me to a new choice of direction, mainly. My directions from the king were simple: go north to a cave, bring back the relic inside, and stay alive. So I headed north and came to my first learning point.
On this path north, the trail forked. One direction went north west, the other due east. I had forgotten the fact that the king told me the cave was north, so I suddenly felt like I was aiming in the dark, so I decided to go east. I went east, fell into a tap laid by bandits and died. Well, I would have died, if he wasn't trying to make a point. He told me I should make a note of every important detail the king had told me, so he routed off the king's whole speech again, and took me back to the form in the road. North west, or east. "The path goes north-west, though, not north." "close enough, though." I had to think in terms of an adventurer coming back, half scared out his mind about the horrors of this cave. He wouldn't have been like "You go up one screen, then take the north-west path..." Lesson Learned.
I made it to the cave, made it pretty far until I reached the final room, had grabbed the Staff of King's and was about to leave when something blocked my only exit.
I paused a moment. I started racking my mind through the book, because I remembered the propeller from one of the pictures. It then hit me: Rust Monster. I may or may not have pooped myself. He saw the fear in my eyes, and he may have grinned, I was too much worried about loosing every bit of equipment I had bought in town. The Staff of King's was wooden so Rustie, as I named it in my mind for the moment, wasn't interested in it.
In the end, I pulled my dagger and attacked. It was a stupid idea, but while it ate at my dagger, I bolted with the staff. It chased after me and got a hold of my armor, which I stripped and left for it to feed off. Luckily I had made very tight notes of my route in. Once back at the castle, I returned the staff to the King, who repaid me for my lost armor, weapon, and then ten fold. My story spread through the kingdom.
Now, don't get me wrong, this quest didn't happen in one sitting, it happened over a few weeks, once a week, and is one of the strongest memories I have of my dad. Everything else is nothing, compared to these moments. My time, playing DnD, sitting on my bed, tops everything else between us.
In my own time, I began reading through the other books. They were the First Edition rules: player's handbook, Dungeon master guide, and Monster Manual, which had the best artwork on their covers. These three books readied me for not only my continuing education in DnD but also readied me for middle school.
Between then and sixth grade, about a year and half, I read through those books, mainly because the game time dad and I had became far and few between. In this time, however, I began to build for the first time. It started with a dungeon, then the areas around the dungeon, then the towns around that, then the shops in the towns, then the people who worked in those shops, the people who ran the towns, then I ran into a small problem, I needed a king. I had built this world, populated it, but needed someone to run it, so I built a legend into Silverblade's storyline. I upped my character, I was sure I'd never play him again, into a myth-like person. He was never seen, except when things were getting deep, but on the eve of a mighty war, he disappeared. When war broke out, people began to worry about war, not myths, and his legacy nearly died off, until everything seemed to look bleak. He then reappeared, took down the big-evil, and stood as the kingdom's new champion, ready for the throne, but it wouldn't come to pass. He didn't believe in that kind of power. It was then a monk, from a far off land, would visit Silverblade, seeking information about the Staff of King's but instead became very interested in the sword Silverblade had found during his adventures while war broke out in the kingdom. Taking the sword into his hands, the monk read the inscription on the hilt, a lost language stating the wielder of sword is the true king. Silverblade had returned with the fabled Excalibur. The monk, on a hunch, took Silverblade to the ruins of an old castle, Camelot. A king had been crowned, and the throne had a warm body in it again.
This world would become my playground for years to come. In sixth grade, I found a group that played DnD, at school, and through middle school, we played as much as we could. Having so many players in our group, we decided to have two main Dungeon Masters, but my the end of 8th grade, I had been given soul responsibility. In these three years I spent more than my fair share of time building more, creating more, and pushing my players in ways they would never forget. Okay, maybe that last part was pure ego speaking; they've all already forgotten, I'm the lone mental one.
During these three years gave birth to two of my favorite characters: Diesel and Drake Longrock. They were identical brothers, tall, large, wore black, and were the mercenaries hired to kill Silverblade. I brought them in, as hired bodyguards of the king, himself, and there they plotted. Drake was actually the bad guy, in the beginning, but I favored him, and later would change Diesel's name to Mordock, but then back to Diesel as I began to use the Longrock brothers in a book concept. Drake was found out to have had Diesel under mind control, and was the mastermind behind the whole assassination attempt in the first place. The players had kittens. I was 12 when I had come up with this.
My first major operation was the following year, I was out of school for about 9 weeks, and had a lot of free time, in between school work. I continued to create, build, and when I returned to school I unleashed a new fury upon my players. Silverblade's wife, Mim, who was a high priestess elf, had been kidnapped by a group still loyal to Drake Longrock, who was now imprisoned. In the final battle with the kidnappers a new evil arrived onto the scene: The Lich King: Vecna.
The name Vecna was not original, by any means. I had taken the name from the Dungeon Master's guide. In an appendix (Appendix J, I believe) listed a boat load of artifacts that could be fully customized for any campaign. Two of those artifacts were named after Vecna: The Hand of Vecna, and the Eye of Vecna. These artifacts had a small back story about a powerful wizard who had gone mad with power. His final attempt at greatness was to become immortal, which he did (in a way) by turning himself into a creature of the darkness: an undead. He would rule until his right hand man (pardon the pun) Kas would see the error of his own ways and struck Vecna down, scattering his body pieces. Vecna was the bad guy, and I made him worth his weight in darkness.
Diesel, who had traveled with my gamers, sacrificed himself so the group could escape with Mim. Diesel would never been seen again, by any players until years later. The group mainly survived, one player's character died during the escape in a "I rolled a 1 to attack..." followed by his weapon releasing the draw bridge chain he was standing on, dropping him into lava. This happened while battling skeletons on said draw bridge. He rolled a 1 (on a d20) to attack, then I had him roll to 'attack' the chain, which he rolled a natural 20, which doubled his attack points, which I had him roll, a 12 on a d12, 24 points of damage to the chain, which I then decided to check the chain's strength, giving it a chance to survive, which I rolled a natural 1. The chain snapped, and the bridge began to fall. I had the players roll to jump. He was the only one to miss the jump roll, and the grab roll. The bridge had collapsed, which stopped the flow of creatures towards them. They had the idea to do the same thing, but to wait until everyone had cleared the bridge. Some plans go off without a hitch; theirs did not. - That was my last live game until after high school.
I continued to create, to build, to enjoy my time in time time of uncharted creation. I had already birthed a world, filled it with legendary character, and seen the rise of the greatest of evils. Now I turned my attention to the coming war, the Great War, as prophesied by the same monk who revealed Silverblade as king. I took to the internet, chatrooms, but that never held long. Online, players thought they should always have the last say, and many acted like brats.
After high school, a friend had seen me out, reading through my newest acquisition: a 'Tome of Magic'. He told me he had loved playing DnD with his brothers, but they had moved out of the house, and he was always up for a dungeon crawl.
My time had come again.
It started, one weekend, with just him. When another friend had asked what the hell we were doing. I explained the basis of role playing, and for the first time I had to create a class: ninja. I had seen the ninja class in magazines, and online, but I never felt it was sharp enough, so I created one from scratch. Then there were two characters, and the ninja's pet ferret. The ferret, whose name escapes me, was a genius addition to the small group. I created a small character sheet for it, giving it thief-like skills, which came in handy more times than not. Before two months had gone by, we were clocking in 12+ hour games, multiple days a week, and soon the group had grew to eight. The max I played with at one time was twelve, which was unbearable because one of the players claimed he was a better DM and refused to follow my rulings. So I killed his character... In his sleep...
By the time the group scattered, I had more hours played than I had in middle school. My world had grew, new enemies were born out of need for them, but the burning to continue had risen to a feverish pitch.
It was only a year, or so, after this group disbanded that I had returned to God. Months later, I moved out of my parents house, and then a few months after that, I began to struggle with my past. I quested the need for role playing, and that night I got an answer on the television. Unbeknown to me, I had misinterpreted the answer, and jumped to thrown everything I had away.
I had spent hundreds on gaming supplies, dice, books, paper, pencils, character sheets, copies, etc. I had a lot of stuff, and some guy on TV told me it was the devil's toy, and I jumped at such an answer. In retrospect, I think the sudden change helped me along, but now I kind of wished I had just locked it away until I was mature enough to understand the reality of what gaming is and what gaming could be.
Christian TV personalities will denounce anything mentioning magic as evil. You mention magic, it says in the bible that witches should be stoned. Actually, it says false prophets should be stoned, so you TV personalities need to watch what you're prophesying!
I also know the years I had, developing these worlds, characters, and what not, allowed my mind to hone itself. If my imagination gets a little unbridled, it can be dangerous, but at the same time it can be beautiful. God gave me this mind, these worlds in my head, and no mater how crazy that sounds, I love the ability to think on the fly. To be able to create up details that bring forward a world of its own.
All in all, I believe it was God and my dad who gave me the chance to pursue Dungeons and Dragons. They both molded my mind to think outside the box, and to think on the fly. The game sharpened my abilities, and to this day I'd never trade in a moment of that time for anything.
God gives us all abilities that we waste, and knowing God is happy to see me using my imagination, makes me happy. I'd rather use my gifts, than waste them away on useless ambitions. If I use the gifts God gives me, for God's use, then He is joyous. I may not have been using my gifts then, but now I can move forward and do His work with what was not mine to use.
What I'm talking about is table top, pencil and paper, old school, role playing. Now, I know Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) isn't "old school" since it's in it's 4th edition of rules, that uses miniatures and a very simplistic video game like rule set. I've never played 4th edition but I've read enough about the beta testing done in the Star Wars: Saga Edition to know: it sounds fantastic!
I know there are a lot of Evangelicals (Evangelicali?) out there that believe DnD is the devil wrapped in a nice candy coat. I could say the same about American Idol, or actually candies coated in candy (MnM's I'm talking to YOU!). However, I will say this: DnD never made me get into witch craft. I got into witch craft because I thought it could bring me power. It didn't bring me anything, because magic should be left to those like David Copperfield, David Blane (who may be the devil), or this guy. I never said magic was fake, because it's not. I've seen magic in the eyes of a toddler who sees someone dressed as Cinderella and believes that person is Cinderella. That's real magic. Witch craft isn't that, it's about being selfish, but I digress.
DnD never made me want to own swords (Braveheart did that), nor did it make me want to dress up in armor and beat people up with real weapons (seeing medieval reenactment did that), nor did it make we want to kill a dragon (seriously, if they were real, who would want to kill one?!). It did make me use my mind, it did make me be imaginative, and it made me think outside the box that sits in the corner filled with boredom. I created worlds, and filled those worlds with people, who lived, who did things, who were all constantly moving, and even though it sounds crazy, my players loved every moment of it.
When I was six, I noticed a silver briefcase sitting in the closet of my father's train room. I asked him about it and he showed me, and at the time I had no clue what it was, but he told me, that when I turned 10, he'd teach me about it. I kind of kept my eye on the briefcase, never really opening it unless he wasn't home, and even then only once or twice. Inside were some books with really cool pictures, a small wooden box with some small metal figures and some weird looking dice, and a handful of pencils.
A week after my 10th birthday, dad came into my bedroom, with the briefcase. He gave me the smaller book, it was thinner, soft covered (compared to the three hand bound ones with the crazy pictures in them), and had the brightest red cover on it, with this awesome looking dragon on the front. He told me to read it, a lot, and in a week we'd talk about what I learned from it.
Now, let's back track between 6 and 10 for a bit. Dad worked around computers as far back as I can remember. He worked around people who coded for the fun of it, and played computer games. My first recollection of watching someone play a video game was Sierra's "King's Quest". I had gone to work with dad, because they had a yearly family picnic and he'd take me to work with him, and around 2 we'd go to the picnic. Those were the bests days I could remember because I was surrounded by all these cool electronic things I couldn't play with. This was in the mid 80's. Now, back to King's Quest. One day, one of dad's co-workers was playing this game, and dad had a meeting he had to go to, so he asked Steve to watch me and, I quote "watch your language around him, he picks up stuff quick". Steve was playing King's Quest, and I watched him, closely. So closely, that years later when I would buy the collector set, I remembered what Steve had done, and it made the game much easier. Anyway, if you've never played King's Quest, the command were very basic, and had to be point on, just about. So, here is Steve, standing in front of the king, trying to figure out what to do next. He's trying everything he can think of, and suddenly he's about the freak out and types "Talk to potato head!" and I loose it. I start laughing, over and over. That day on, I knew Steve as Potato Head. Well, with Steve frustrated in the game, he goes "Here, try." I did. I learned that there are alligators in the moat around the castle. A few years later, I watched as dad's office beat King's Quest 3, in a delightful celebration. I also watched them take very detailed notes. They described each screen in detail on large sheets of graph paper. They made notes about where items were hidden, what screens to avoid, what screens the witch appeared, and the concept of those maps, the games, and the fun would ever be burned into my memory. So, let us fast forward back to when I was 10.
Here I was, reading a starter guide to a game that I didn't need a computer to play. All I needed was a pencil, character sheet, dice, and a dungeon master. In this briefcase were the tools I needed to play Dungeons and Dragons, and dad, having played for some time, would be my Dungeon Master. The week was over, and we talked about the rules, what each race and class contributed to a character, and how the adventure in the book would be my first, but I had to get to it, first. He wouldn't just throw me into the cave, I had to find it first. So, we rolled up my very first character, Silverblade the Human Fighter, and off we went. I came before the king, and was told to search out for a lost relic of the kingdom. This relic was last seen north of the kingdom, in a cave by an explorer who wasn't brave enough to stick around when things got rough. Dad took a piece of graph paper and drew out a rough map of the kingdom and he decided to do a King's Quest style adventure, where each direction I took brought me to a new choice of direction, mainly. My directions from the king were simple: go north to a cave, bring back the relic inside, and stay alive. So I headed north and came to my first learning point.
On this path north, the trail forked. One direction went north west, the other due east. I had forgotten the fact that the king told me the cave was north, so I suddenly felt like I was aiming in the dark, so I decided to go east. I went east, fell into a tap laid by bandits and died. Well, I would have died, if he wasn't trying to make a point. He told me I should make a note of every important detail the king had told me, so he routed off the king's whole speech again, and took me back to the form in the road. North west, or east. "The path goes north-west, though, not north." "close enough, though." I had to think in terms of an adventurer coming back, half scared out his mind about the horrors of this cave. He wouldn't have been like "You go up one screen, then take the north-west path..." Lesson Learned.
I made it to the cave, made it pretty far until I reached the final room, had grabbed the Staff of King's and was about to leave when something blocked my only exit.
Between you and the archway you came through is a peculiar creature. Standing a little under three feet off the ground and from your torch light, appears to be five feet long. It looks like an overgrown tick, but only has four, mammal-like legs, two long antennae, a bony looking shell, and a tail, that's tipped with what could be called a propeller.
I paused a moment. I started racking my mind through the book, because I remembered the propeller from one of the pictures. It then hit me: Rust Monster. I may or may not have pooped myself. He saw the fear in my eyes, and he may have grinned, I was too much worried about loosing every bit of equipment I had bought in town. The Staff of King's was wooden so Rustie, as I named it in my mind for the moment, wasn't interested in it.
In the end, I pulled my dagger and attacked. It was a stupid idea, but while it ate at my dagger, I bolted with the staff. It chased after me and got a hold of my armor, which I stripped and left for it to feed off. Luckily I had made very tight notes of my route in. Once back at the castle, I returned the staff to the King, who repaid me for my lost armor, weapon, and then ten fold. My story spread through the kingdom.
Now, don't get me wrong, this quest didn't happen in one sitting, it happened over a few weeks, once a week, and is one of the strongest memories I have of my dad. Everything else is nothing, compared to these moments. My time, playing DnD, sitting on my bed, tops everything else between us.
In my own time, I began reading through the other books. They were the First Edition rules: player's handbook, Dungeon master guide, and Monster Manual, which had the best artwork on their covers. These three books readied me for not only my continuing education in DnD but also readied me for middle school.
Between then and sixth grade, about a year and half, I read through those books, mainly because the game time dad and I had became far and few between. In this time, however, I began to build for the first time. It started with a dungeon, then the areas around the dungeon, then the towns around that, then the shops in the towns, then the people who worked in those shops, the people who ran the towns, then I ran into a small problem, I needed a king. I had built this world, populated it, but needed someone to run it, so I built a legend into Silverblade's storyline. I upped my character, I was sure I'd never play him again, into a myth-like person. He was never seen, except when things were getting deep, but on the eve of a mighty war, he disappeared. When war broke out, people began to worry about war, not myths, and his legacy nearly died off, until everything seemed to look bleak. He then reappeared, took down the big-evil, and stood as the kingdom's new champion, ready for the throne, but it wouldn't come to pass. He didn't believe in that kind of power. It was then a monk, from a far off land, would visit Silverblade, seeking information about the Staff of King's but instead became very interested in the sword Silverblade had found during his adventures while war broke out in the kingdom. Taking the sword into his hands, the monk read the inscription on the hilt, a lost language stating the wielder of sword is the true king. Silverblade had returned with the fabled Excalibur. The monk, on a hunch, took Silverblade to the ruins of an old castle, Camelot. A king had been crowned, and the throne had a warm body in it again.
This world would become my playground for years to come. In sixth grade, I found a group that played DnD, at school, and through middle school, we played as much as we could. Having so many players in our group, we decided to have two main Dungeon Masters, but my the end of 8th grade, I had been given soul responsibility. In these three years I spent more than my fair share of time building more, creating more, and pushing my players in ways they would never forget. Okay, maybe that last part was pure ego speaking; they've all already forgotten, I'm the lone mental one.
During these three years gave birth to two of my favorite characters: Diesel and Drake Longrock. They were identical brothers, tall, large, wore black, and were the mercenaries hired to kill Silverblade. I brought them in, as hired bodyguards of the king, himself, and there they plotted. Drake was actually the bad guy, in the beginning, but I favored him, and later would change Diesel's name to Mordock, but then back to Diesel as I began to use the Longrock brothers in a book concept. Drake was found out to have had Diesel under mind control, and was the mastermind behind the whole assassination attempt in the first place. The players had kittens. I was 12 when I had come up with this.
My first major operation was the following year, I was out of school for about 9 weeks, and had a lot of free time, in between school work. I continued to create, build, and when I returned to school I unleashed a new fury upon my players. Silverblade's wife, Mim, who was a high priestess elf, had been kidnapped by a group still loyal to Drake Longrock, who was now imprisoned. In the final battle with the kidnappers a new evil arrived onto the scene: The Lich King: Vecna.
The name Vecna was not original, by any means. I had taken the name from the Dungeon Master's guide. In an appendix (Appendix J, I believe) listed a boat load of artifacts that could be fully customized for any campaign. Two of those artifacts were named after Vecna: The Hand of Vecna, and the Eye of Vecna. These artifacts had a small back story about a powerful wizard who had gone mad with power. His final attempt at greatness was to become immortal, which he did (in a way) by turning himself into a creature of the darkness: an undead. He would rule until his right hand man (pardon the pun) Kas would see the error of his own ways and struck Vecna down, scattering his body pieces. Vecna was the bad guy, and I made him worth his weight in darkness.
Diesel, who had traveled with my gamers, sacrificed himself so the group could escape with Mim. Diesel would never been seen again, by any players until years later. The group mainly survived, one player's character died during the escape in a "I rolled a 1 to attack..." followed by his weapon releasing the draw bridge chain he was standing on, dropping him into lava. This happened while battling skeletons on said draw bridge. He rolled a 1 (on a d20) to attack, then I had him roll to 'attack' the chain, which he rolled a natural 20, which doubled his attack points, which I had him roll, a 12 on a d12, 24 points of damage to the chain, which I then decided to check the chain's strength, giving it a chance to survive, which I rolled a natural 1. The chain snapped, and the bridge began to fall. I had the players roll to jump. He was the only one to miss the jump roll, and the grab roll. The bridge had collapsed, which stopped the flow of creatures towards them. They had the idea to do the same thing, but to wait until everyone had cleared the bridge. Some plans go off without a hitch; theirs did not. - That was my last live game until after high school.
I continued to create, to build, to enjoy my time in time time of uncharted creation. I had already birthed a world, filled it with legendary character, and seen the rise of the greatest of evils. Now I turned my attention to the coming war, the Great War, as prophesied by the same monk who revealed Silverblade as king. I took to the internet, chatrooms, but that never held long. Online, players thought they should always have the last say, and many acted like brats.
After high school, a friend had seen me out, reading through my newest acquisition: a 'Tome of Magic'. He told me he had loved playing DnD with his brothers, but they had moved out of the house, and he was always up for a dungeon crawl.
My time had come again.
It started, one weekend, with just him. When another friend had asked what the hell we were doing. I explained the basis of role playing, and for the first time I had to create a class: ninja. I had seen the ninja class in magazines, and online, but I never felt it was sharp enough, so I created one from scratch. Then there were two characters, and the ninja's pet ferret. The ferret, whose name escapes me, was a genius addition to the small group. I created a small character sheet for it, giving it thief-like skills, which came in handy more times than not. Before two months had gone by, we were clocking in 12+ hour games, multiple days a week, and soon the group had grew to eight. The max I played with at one time was twelve, which was unbearable because one of the players claimed he was a better DM and refused to follow my rulings. So I killed his character... In his sleep...
By the time the group scattered, I had more hours played than I had in middle school. My world had grew, new enemies were born out of need for them, but the burning to continue had risen to a feverish pitch.
It was only a year, or so, after this group disbanded that I had returned to God. Months later, I moved out of my parents house, and then a few months after that, I began to struggle with my past. I quested the need for role playing, and that night I got an answer on the television. Unbeknown to me, I had misinterpreted the answer, and jumped to thrown everything I had away.
I had spent hundreds on gaming supplies, dice, books, paper, pencils, character sheets, copies, etc. I had a lot of stuff, and some guy on TV told me it was the devil's toy, and I jumped at such an answer. In retrospect, I think the sudden change helped me along, but now I kind of wished I had just locked it away until I was mature enough to understand the reality of what gaming is and what gaming could be.
Christian TV personalities will denounce anything mentioning magic as evil. You mention magic, it says in the bible that witches should be stoned. Actually, it says false prophets should be stoned, so you TV personalities need to watch what you're prophesying!
I also know the years I had, developing these worlds, characters, and what not, allowed my mind to hone itself. If my imagination gets a little unbridled, it can be dangerous, but at the same time it can be beautiful. God gave me this mind, these worlds in my head, and no mater how crazy that sounds, I love the ability to think on the fly. To be able to create up details that bring forward a world of its own.
All in all, I believe it was God and my dad who gave me the chance to pursue Dungeons and Dragons. They both molded my mind to think outside the box, and to think on the fly. The game sharpened my abilities, and to this day I'd never trade in a moment of that time for anything.
God gives us all abilities that we waste, and knowing God is happy to see me using my imagination, makes me happy. I'd rather use my gifts, than waste them away on useless ambitions. If I use the gifts God gives me, for God's use, then He is joyous. I may not have been using my gifts then, but now I can move forward and do His work with what was not mine to use.
Thursday, January 6
resolutions . . . dun! Dun!! DUN!!!
12:43 PM
Jesse
Since 2000, I stopped doing 'resolutions' and I had only been making them since 1996, so the whole 4 years of making them, I never really followed through with any of them, except the one that was "Be me." and even then, I failed. So, as a resolution in 2000, I decided to stop doing resolutions. I succeeded there, but this year, I'm returning to them, but in a different way. Instead of doing a list of 'resolutions' I'm making a list of 10 goals. None of them I'll be able to check off until December 31, 2011 at 11:59:59, because I doubt I'd be able to finish off any of them in a second. These are not resolutions, things that I must to do change myself, these are goals, to strive toward to make the world, and those around me, better.
With that said, here is the list of ten thing I'll be striving toward, this year (in no particular order . . . kind of):
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
PS: I'm going to mention it before I get asked it. I left off 'read more Bible' and 'Pray more faithfully' because I don't believe in being cliche about God. If I read more Bible, or pray more faithfully, or play more cowbell, then kudos, but those are not goals, they are obvious stuff I need to be doing.
With that said, here is the list of ten thing I'll be striving toward, this year (in no particular order . . . kind of):
- Spend More Time with My Family (This was the first one I thought of) - People tend to take their family for granted, and I will be spending more time with them. This doesn't have to be going places, or doing stuff, but just spending time with them in the same room. There's a lot I want to do this year, but nothing more than just being with my family.
- Write One Fictional Thing Worth Publishing - This includes, but does not limit myself to short stories, poetry, or a full length fictional novel. I doubt it'll be the last, because I already have something brewing (#3) but I'd rather be a fictional writer, so I need to start somewhere.
- Write My Story - This is the non-fictional part of my writing. I stood (figuratively speaking) in front of a group of highschoolers, this past year, and gave them my salvation story. It's nothing mind blowing, but in the ten years since it happened, I've learned a lot that I didn't know back then, and to be honest, I've learned a lot from those times in the dark, and think that if what I learned can be helpful to someone else, then I need to write it. If one person can be helped by my story, then I'm all in. I've written an outline, already, and plan on moving forward with it, slowly, so I don't miss anything.
- Write One Script (Notice a trend?) - With Charot's Corner under my belt, I'm ready for another script. I had a blast writing Corner, and I know I could toss out a second script, to something I haven't even thought of yet. There's just something about writing a script take gets my heart racing.
- Collaborate with My Wife on a Book (She doesn't know about this one) - Without a shadow of a doubt, my wife is my muse, who has the best ideas, and we've already done some stuff together, but to be able to actually write a book together, would be awesome! She's been reading some awesome stuff, so I know her mind is primed for this kind of thing.
- Loose 30 Pounds - I'm a big dude, and I'd love to weight like 200, but that isn't realistic. If I can drop 30 pounds this year, and then another next, I'll be on my way to 200, in time. This list is about making sensible goals, and 30 pounds is sensible.
- Monthly Mafia Game (or werewolf, or demon, or whatever you want call it) - When I was at camp, I was introduced to a 'card' game, per say, called Mafia. The game uses cards, but the object of the game is to survive, or kill. It's hard to explain, but Google it. It does have a few different names, but the concept is the same.
- My Blog and Vlog - This has to be the best blog I've had... ever... and that says a lot since I start a new one every other day. No, serious, I have blogging issues. The thing is, I enjoy writing here, and I enjoy doing the vlogs with my wife, so I want to do them more. I will be writing and vlogging more than before, which shouldn't be that hard since I don't seem to do it too often.
- New Profile Photos - If you follow me on Twitter, you've been looking at, a photo of me, as what I'd like to call "The Prophet of Twitter". When I say 'Prophet' in this instance, I mean in the crazy Mormon way. Not saying at all Mormons are crazy, just a lot of them. If you follow me on FaceBook, you've been looking at 'D' the main guy from Vampire Hunter D, for like months. The FaceBook thing is understandable, I'm hardly on it, however Twitter is a different story. Now, I don't want a new picture every week, but I do want some nice ones, to switch out from time to time. I also want a few good ones for this blog, and for the books I'll be publishing, one day. I'm thinking of asking someone to take the photos for me, or maybe like three different people to take them for me, so I'll have some options, but that takes time, and sometimes money, but because I know so many talented people who like to photograph, it's mainly about time.
- Planning Financially - I know nothing about saving for the future, or the market, or anything of the sorts. I'm taking an economic class this semester, so I hope to learn something that could help me make some smart decisions on investing and portfolio building.
Grace and Peace,
Jesse
PS: I'm going to mention it before I get asked it. I left off 'read more Bible' and 'Pray more faithfully' because I don't believe in being cliche about God. If I read more Bible, or pray more faithfully, or play more cowbell, then kudos, but those are not goals, they are obvious stuff I need to be doing.
