forward...

you got to pray just to make it today

2008-03-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

I'm currently in the painting studio at Columbia. There are two Asian students directly across from me. They just sat down to enjoy some take out but before they did so, they prayed... really awkwardly and really quietly. I think I make the assumption that living in NYC, people of different ethnicities practice a religion other than Christianity. While this may be true in many cases, it is never always true. Maybe it was also weird because I sat down to eat at the same time, and I didn't stop to pray. Maybe it was also weird because I can't remember the last time I prayed without being called upon to do so.

the last time I prayed was last week. There was a group of McAfee students volunteering at Metro. We all went out to dinner and one of the students asked me to pray for our food. I immediately responded with "We don't pray here." They thought I was joking and everyone laughed. But I wasn't really joking. When I quickly said the same prayer that I said at every meal with my family growing up, I realized I really don't pray anymore.

budding

2008-03-10T23:45:00.000-07:00

i have always loved lunch meat. Its gross I know. But cold cuts are just so good. The other day I was at the meat market and I saw a package of cold cuts. For some reason prepackaged sandwich meat is hard to come by in new york and I'm not dedicated enough to get the real stuff. So when I saw this conveniently packaged container of cold cuts, I picked it up immediately. It was chicken and I'm usually a turkey person, but i just went for it. Once I got home I discovered that the brand was Carl Budding--the same brand my mom used to always buy. Its sliced rediculously thin and the package is so small you need the whole package for one sandwich. My mom taught us how to ration (even though I dont remember her ever telling me how many slices to use). My sister and I only used two slices. You hoped that you were at the end of the pack and there was an odd number so maybe you could have three slices. This was Carl Budding meat and it was so good. The package I found at the meat market was about 5 times the size of those tiny packs my mom bought. I made my first Budding sandwhich post puberty today. Sadly, it just didn't do it for me. The "chicken" was the color of ham. It could more appropriately be labeled "meat product." I long for the innocence of my youth and my love of processed meat.

this post is for borrego, who is probably the only person paying attention to my blog. coincidentally, she's also probably the only person who also loved Carl Budding.

2007-01-30T16:35:00.000-08:00

"What do we leave behind when we cross each frontier? Each moment seems split in two; melancholy for what was left behind and the excitement of entering a new land."
-motorcycle diaries

love

2007-01-29T20:30:00.000-08:00

“...In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them...You got to love it, you! And no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they do not love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you..."

Toni Morrison's, Beloved

2007-01-26T21:48:00.000-08:00

"Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you've been issued. Whether you're going to live it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it, and find out the truth about who you are"
-Anne Lamott

home?

2007-01-24T21:42:00.000-08:00

from Garden State...
Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew: You'll see when you move out-it just sort of happens one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean, it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know-for you kids, for the family you start. It's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

the book survey...

2006-09-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

One book that changed my life: Resident Aliens by Stanley Hauerwas
I read this book in college and it was the first time I realized that I could think differently than what people expected. It was the first time that I began to honestly engage my beliefs about God, the world, and myself.

I've read more than once: Night by Elie Wiesel
I haven't read many books more than once although there are many that I would like to read again. This book is a quick read but a lasting reminder of so many important aspects of life.

I would want on a desert island: The Inner Voice of Love by Henri Nouwen
I could probably choose any of Nouwen's books for this question, but this book helped me learn how to better understand myself.

Made me laugh: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris
Quite possibly my favorite author, Sedaris is hilarious and honest. In this book he not only takes on the humor of life, but he also offers some commentary on life in general.

Made me cry: A Million Little Pieces by James Frey
Despite the hoopla over its embellishments, this book was very engaging and really pulled me through the ups and downs of Frey's experience. The happy moments where people connect and look out for each other left me a little teary eyed.

I wish I'd written: The Heart is a Little to the Left by William Sloane Coffin
He's so inspiring, socially aware, provocative, and intelligent.

I am currently reading: The Motocylce Diaries by Ernesto Che Guevara
Its a little slow but an inspiring look into this revolutionary's life before his military involvement.

I want to read: something by Thomas Merton

who will save your soul?

2006-08-19T11:38:00.000-07:00

1. Panera Bread now owns my soul. I justified my frequent visits during the two weeks I was at my parents house by saying that there isnt one in NYC, so I had to stock up...like a squirll (sp?) stuffing its cheeks for winter. Panera oh how I love thee.

2. I know everyone talks about how great their neices and nephews are, but my nephew is really really great. I am sad that I wont get to see him for awhile.

3. I think my parents felt guilty because we haevn't really done anyting while I've been home, so they really wanted us to do something. Well, there's really nothing to do (reason #1 why we hadn't done anything), so I proposed a game night. They liked the idea so we planned to play dominoes. The conversation continued and my mother informed me that she had never had a margarita (again SP?) which led into this long discussion of my parents' drinking habits in college. Now, my parents haven't really drank since college mind you. I decide we should remedy the situation and bring home the Rita mix. So familiy game night was a success with dominoes and a pitcher o Rita. But the truth is, I was a little afraid to be boozing it with the parents so I vetoed the tequila.

4. I'm addicted to buying DVD's and TV on DVD

5. Because of #1 and #4 I might be broke in a few weeks because I am starting this church job and I have no clue when my first meager paycheck will come.

6. I'm contemplating burning a copy of my brother n law's Bel Biv Divoe CD...and by that I mean its next on the todo list

7. I recently took it back to circa 1995 and burned a copy of my sister's Jewel CD...Pieces of You, if you will.

back to life, back to reality

2006-08-05T20:22:00.000-07:00

the summer is nearly over and I'll be headed back to Union soon. I'm excited but also a little apprehensive. A new year means new people, new experiences, and one step closer to becoming a real adult. All of these are not necessarily bad, but I'm just a little worried that it wont be as good as I hope. I am looking forward to...

chipotle
Tallu's cooking
running at Riverside
public transportation
reading
working at Metro
old friends
the craziness of union

tolstoy

2006-04-25T08:35:00.000-07:00

I'm currently reading Tolstoy's Confesion. I know it sounds really impressive, but its an easy read. I'm only about half-way through the book so maybe this post is premature...

Tolstoy's thoughts on doubt and disbelief ressonate with my own thinking at the moment. Every avenue of searching he goes through leads to a dead end. He finds no answers and his own modes of thinking prove to be insufficient. This leads Tolstoy to the conclusion that life is meaningless and he thinks about suicide often. Fortunately, I am not to that point, but Tolstoy's searching is interesting to me nonetheless. Maybe because he seems to come to no conclusion. There is mystery in the unknown and something strangely attractive about that. Maybe because I too have come to little conclusion. In my own life, the mystery provides little comfort.

Dear Leo,
End your book with a good conclusion please. I'll be your best friend.
Love,
Robert

stay

2006-04-18T21:21:00.000-07:00

in other news, quite possibly my most favorite person ever is leaving in a few weeks to go back to England. I'm really sad. No, I dont think you heard me, Im really sad.

Dear Gillian,
Don't go. Please stay.
Love,
Robert

the night

2006-04-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

i've been thinking about the idea of darkness and the night (sounds scary, I know). Recently, I was quite sick, presumably from some skethy chinese food i had from the always classy Peking Garden. Everytime I eat there, I always tell myself I should never go back. This time I'm for real. Anyway, I spent a good deal of time alone in bed in my 10x8 apartment. The morning and early afternoon were no fun. I couldn't really get out of bed but my basic cable kept me occupied with cheesy movies. Then the night began to close in. It started getting dark and somehow I felt as though my sickness was getting worse. I felt alone and even scared at times. I just wanted "home".... (I'm not exactly sure what that is at this point in my life as I am in a place of transition). I tried to go to sleep, but my efforts were futile. I had been sleeping on and off all day. I had to wrestle with the night. I was uneasy and homesick. The darkness, and not just the darkness of my room, but the darkness seeping in from outside loomed over with a pessimism that made me feel insignificant and less independent than I would like to be. I don't think I'm afraid of the dark or at least I hope not. When the sun was shining and people were around there was no uneasiness-it only came when the darkness came. Of course this is a rare scenario. This only applies to times of need or discomfort. Nevertheless, the night still has a hold on me in those times. Most nights I stay up far later than I should because there's something I enjoy about the night. why oh why

northern hospitality

2006-04-09T16:11:00.000-07:00

Tallu tosses me a bouncy ball that appeared to have weathered quite a few years hard core bouncing. Questioning its origin seems only appropriate. Here's my version of the story I heard...

Tallu was sitting at _________ (some restaurant) and there is a lady at the table next to her decked out in anti-Bush gear. In the thickest of northern accents, the lady leans over and says, "what are you having?" There began their fateful relationship. She procedes to inform Tallu that President Bush was visiting her town today and she had to escape to nearby New York City. The conversation is short, but the lady feels obliged to offer Tallu a token of gratitude. Gratitude for amusing (I just had a discussion of what the appropriate word would be in place of "amusing," but have come up with nothing) her thoughts on the state of the presidency or maybe for suggesting a decent meal in this restaurant--her sanctuary from our dear President...I'm not sure. She digs through her purse, pulls out a yellow bouncy ball with an eye on it and says [don't forget the thick accent] "Here ya go schug (i dont know how you spell that, but its "sugar" without the "ar"), its been in my purse for years."

I can't decide if this is a really beautiful moment where one parts with something that has been a part of them for so long or if its just gross. Clearly, Tallu being a graduate student loves bouncy balls, so it was the only appropriate gift. All the while, I'm just concerned about what diseases I might have just contracted from this little peice of northern hospitality.

for my dearest tallu...

2006-04-07T19:35:00.000-07:00

everytime someone here's about my blog (which is not often) I feel obligated to post. Each time, I think maybe I'll keep up with this better, but then it never happens. I've been writing a lot, which takes me away from the computer so I'll try to be better for the approximately 3 people who actually check this blog.

more to come....hopefully

2006-03-05T16:21:00.000-08:00

so i'm totally copying this from Ashley who copied it from one of her friends.....I like to call it sharing...enjoy

"Instructions: Use the picture you like best from the first (no clicking around for 44 pages) page of the search results on Google Image."

1. City and State of the town you grew up in, no quotation marks.

clearly it looks a little different now, but not too much...

2. Town where you currently reside.

the GW bridge into Manhattan

3. Your name, first and last, but again, no quotes.

some random lawyer who stole my name

4. Your grandmother's name
(she would totally approve of this)

5. Your favorite food

6. Your favorite drink

7. Your favorite smell

nicknames...

2006-02-22T08:41:00.000-08:00

in light of a recent post by my dear friend Ashley Gill (AGill if you will), there are a few things I need to say about nicknames. I love nicknames and I try my best to give everyone I know or care about rather a good nickname. However, I am puzzled by those who assign themselves nicknames. For instance, if I just suddenly started referring to myself as Bert it would be weird. I recently received an email that was sent to everyone on campus. This guy signed the email "Ike". His name is Isaac and I realize that maybe that's a common nickname, but he doesn't tell people his name is Ike and I would never call him Ike. We're not on that nickname level (and quite honestly I hope we never are), but I feel as though he has staked a claim over my friendship. I feel as though I should maybe reply with an email like "Dear Ike, Bert is no longer accpeting frienships from people like you. Love, Bert" I just dont understand. Maybe one day I will...
--Bert

a-ddicted

2006-02-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

so the Olypics completely own me. I can't stop watching. I have re-realized some of my hopes and dreams...
1. i want to be a short track speed skater
2. i want to be a professional skiier
and the olypmics have been on for less than a week. I've got to get started. But seriously, I really want to move somewhere where I can ski frequently after seminary. I think its a little late to start a career, but i'll settle for some good leisure activity.

where did you go?

2006-02-09T10:42:00.000-08:00

I asked, "Where is God in all of this?"

You said, "Where is God in this? Somewhere in the darkness of our human ordeals. In the cold and lonely places where our cries meet the stillness and quiet of heaven. In the places and relationships of our lives where our authentic selves can be expressed in fulness. In all the places that we cannot point and cannot prove and sometimes cannot even perceive. In all of these places. In none of these places. I do not know where God is but it is the Mystery that draws us forward in our search for the Divine."

i dont think i'm ready

2006-02-06T18:16:00.000-08:00

so a new semester has begun, but I dont really feel that renewed or ready to tackle new subject matter. Sometimes I would just like to have time to ponder, to think, to be refreshed. I suppose the world wont stop turning on my behalf.

in other news, i saw the NY Philharmonic orchestra and it was great. I went to Ikea for the first time and it changed my life--i got saved several times in the home office section alone.

ode to Spenge

2006-01-24T00:23:00.000-08:00

well, since i just told Spenge my blog address, I figured I should say something.

so, i'm back in NYC after the holidays and it is good to be back (minus the radiator heat which is currently forcing me to rapidly remove clothing). Back to public transportation, back to cooler weather, back to healthier food, back to the godless north, back to union.

I saw Brokeback Mountain the other day....quality film

I'm flying to Birmingham in about 5.5 hours so i need some sleep.

dear blog,
I'm sorry i haven't been keeping up with you. I'll try to do better.
Love,
Robert

2005-12-09T00:16:00.000-08:00

last night i went to bed at 2am and I woke up today at 4pm. I think i have a problem.

well, i have survived my first semester of classes in seminary. It actuallly wasn't too bad. I still have two exams, but I'm not too worried. I have some friends coming between now and then, so that is exciting.

I went and saw Spamelot the other night and it was really funny. Its basically Monty Python on Broadway.

The holidays in NYC are a lot of fun. You should be jealous.

back in NYC

2005-11-28T23:29:00.000-08:00

so, i just spent 10 days back in north carolina at home (?). I dont really know where to refer to as home now. My parents house will always be THE home, but is it still home? Is NYC just a temporary stop? Am I really independent or basically still a college student? I geuss it might feel different if I actually had an apartment that wasnt the size of a dorm room. Being home was nice but difficult too. I love my family and still have a few great friends there, but it is kind of a chapter of my life I wanted to move out of. So going back to it was weird. I geuss I can never completely separate the past from the present. Being home did remind me of some great things....

life is short, enjoy it
good health is important
people are important
seminary is not a point of arrival
people dont really care about theology
everyday is a good day
enjoy excess
learn to live with less
pets are good
dont stress

and i could go on, but i'll refrain (plus I'm tired)

i need to catch up

2005-11-24T15:38:00.000-08:00

I've not been too successful at keeping up with the ole blog lately. I'm home for thanksgiving and the parents are trying to move furniture on their own....I'm afriad there feeble backs need me, so now is not the greatest time to catch up. More to come soon....hopefully

home is on the horizon

2005-11-17T07:13:00.000-08:00

so I'm going home today, and I'm uber excited. I love NYC, but it will be nice to be home

the pope and prada

2005-11-16T10:47:00.000-08:00

I read an article in Newsweek the other day about the Pope and his duds. Evidently, the Pope ahas his own clothing designers to make all his sweet gowns and capes and such. This probably is an obvious fact that I just overlooked. I guess I kind of thought the popes just kept passing down their clothes or something. I just cant imagine there being a fashion show of Papal wear. In this article the author is reacting to the Pope wearing Prada shoes. I agree with the author who criticizes these expensive duds on such a huge church leader. If the pope can do it, I can too. Thank you Pope Benedict for legitimizing my upcoming Thanksgiving shopping spree. As I buy excessive amounts of unneeded goods, I'll say, "this one's for the pope."

a story i recently wrote

2005-11-16T02:35:00.000-08:00

fight the world order…

I am always fascinated by youth culture. I am not too far removed from this culture and so it is easy for me to see the ere of its ways. I can remember being in middle school and my brief stay on the inside of the social circle.
I grew up in a middle class neighborhood directly connected to the Country Club by the most amazing hill known to any adolescent. It was rumored that beyond the hill were three-story houses with slate driveways and a house with an elevator. Back on our side of the hill we played in the backyard of my split-level house that looked strangely like a Pizza Hut. The hill took on characteristics of the archetypal train tracks. You didn’t really know what was beyond the hill and you knew it could be dangerous, but you longed to breach the top of that hill.
Despite the mixed feelings of the sacred hill it became somewhat of a common ground—a neutral zone if you will. The rich kids came to ride their pristine 21-speed Schwinn bikes down the hill the same way we brought our 10-speed Huffys handed down from an older sibling. Then, your bike was your scarlet letter. Your bike proved your status. The year I coerced my parents into putting all my Christmas presents into that sweet 21-speed Schwinn Hurricane bike was the year I had finally arrived. I had made it—I was one of them. Until of course, I found out Schwinn was out and Trek was in.
It was an endless cycle. I’m pretty sure it still continues today. Maybe its not over the type of bike you have or what side of the hill you live on, but the existence of what one may call identity groups is undeniable. Anyone who ever had the amazing experience of attending a public high school will agree.
I am reminded of the movie 10 Things I Hate About You where you see all the stereotypical adolescent groups. You’ve got the skater kids and the thugs, those who look like they just stepped out of John Wayne’s latest western film and the preppy kids clad with their Ralph Lauren polos and pricey denim. The list goes on and on. There’s a group for everybody. If you don’t like any particular group you form your own.
When I was in high school, I’m not really sure which group I fell into. If I had to choose I would say it was probably the “I’m really cynical about identity groups” group. I had a few friends in high school who stuck pretty close together. Rebellion ran in our blood as we chose not to take part in the stereotypical high school life—not for any noble religious reasons, but because we didn’t want to “conform.”
I think that is the way most groups form. People don’t want to be categorized because they want to be unique, so in there efforts to be unique they participate in the very thing they try to avoid. A new group forms and the cycle continues.
Once I began observing these groups and being a part of them myself, it became a rather intriguing quandary. Why do people do what they do? Why do people dress in certain ways that seem normal to some and bizarre to others?
I went to a punk rock show once. I could probably stop there and that would be enough. Nevertheless, I must continue. While in college, I dated a girl named Becky. She had a twin brother who seemed to be the polar opposite of her. She was in college; he made pizzas. She lived on her own; he lived at home with mom and dad. She was rather preppy and trendy; he was in a punk rock band named Hungry Ghost. Need I say more?
In efforts to be a supportive sibling, Becky would go to some of his shows at local bars. Naturally, during the time we dated, I too went along to a few “shows.” The first observation here is that the appropriate terminology is not a concert or performance, but a “show.” To me, a show implies either an elaborate, or should I say fabulous Broadway performance or some lame collection of artwork. It’s still up for debate if you consider the work of Hungry Ghost artwork, but you can guess where my allegiance lies.
Upon arriving at the aforementioned “show” Becky and I are hyper-aware of our attire for the evening. We discarded our polos and trendy tennis shoes for the bleakest clothes we owned. It was clear that we wouldn’t fit in, but we thought we’d try.
While parking we noticed a small grouping of young folks behind the fence. It appeared as though they might be having a share time, or discussing theology, or maybe just discussing how the hell Johnny got his hair into that frighteningly tall mohawk, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that from that point on, the night was sure to be filled with surprises.
As we enter the bar, I have to harbor all my instincts that tell me not to touch anything. The walls are covered in a camouflage of graffiti. The lights are low. There are only a few people inside, but we put on our “man, I love punk shows face” and enter like we too had mastered the art of studding all the leather we owned.
The fashion of those in attendance was especially puzzling to me. Though you may have been fooled, I do not exactly fit punk rock stereotype, so I do approach their attire with a bit of a bias. I kind of thought the ideology behind “punk rock” was that you didn’t care—“I’m a bad ass. I can dress how I want, because I don’t care.” This may very well be the case, but these people had taken great care in achieving their appearance. You can’t tell me it didn’t take Johnny hours to get his hair in that sleek red mohawk or that it didn’t take him hours to squeeze himself into those skin tight jeans for that matter. Or let’s observe for instance Jane, the girl who’s fishnet hose and gloves and eyeliner all match accordingly. There is great care in looking the way they do. You can’t fool me into thinking they don’t really care.
Though Becky and I had tried to assimilate into this culture as best as possible with our fashion, I’m sure we stuck out like a straight couple in Chelsea. We proceeded to get our Pabst Blue Ribbon beer from the bar. Why else would anyone drink that except that it’s cheap and you’re trying to not be found out? Then the immense sound begins to fill the room.
Here again, I become rather critical. I try to be respectful of all forms of art and music, but I have some difficulty calling the cacophony of sounds coming from those speakers music. Hungry Ghost, being the headliners of the evening came to the stage after some quality music from an even more obscure band.
The set begins with the lead singer saying “Fight the world order” and then immediately rocking out into a plethora of screaming slash words I couldn’t understand. Maybe this is completely appropriate for a punk rock show, but I was used to a more formal greeting. Maybe even thanking the crowd actually paying money to enter this hellhole. Nevertheless, we immediately began fighting the new world order.
As a person who has a passion for social justice issues, I felt a connection to Hungry Ghost. The political messages in their lyrics were numerous. The care and concern that went into lyrics such as “Bush knew, you bet you ass he fucking knew” leads me to believe these guys were onto something big. The lead singer really seemed to draw me in and make me feel empowered and welcome in this place, which seemed so far from my present reality. Or wait; actually it was probably more of a gut-wrenching fear that these were the types of people who were on “my” side. These were the guys who thought it was ok to question the government or to criticize American culture.
Let’s assume for a moment that the members of Hungry Ghost were quite informed and truly interested in a new world order, I’m not sure we can make that same assumption about all those in attendance. The crowd ranged from teenagers to guys older than my father. The mosh pit showed no discrimination to age.
I’m sure some of those people were there because at the heart of punk rock music is a message that says “we don’t like the things as they are” and I can agree with that. But at the same time, there is a style and identity that comes with the music. Some people just “feel” the music and thrive on the always-classy mosh pit.
When it comes down to it, I can’t attempt to understand the punk rock culture. I’m sure those who classify themselves as punk rock could offer an equally biting critique of my own social identity.
I left that night filled with various thoughts about people, life, and Hungry Ghost of course. I also left concerned that I would have permanent hearing loss. That constant ringing in my ear would serve as a reminder of the powerful social messages of my dear friends, Hungry Ghost. Hmm…sometimes I think I might just rather fight the world order on my own.

a conclusion

2005-11-16T02:30:00.000-08:00

well, I finished the paper a few moments ago. It probably could use a little work, but I'm done. I've got thanksgiving on the brain and theology has quickly been pushed aside. Although I have to figure out something to write for the church history paper I have due when I get back....lame. Nevertheless, here's the conclusion to the paper:

Examining liberation theology alongside queer theory may seem like an odd concept, but the connection lies in their quest for understanding. The experience of human life is divergent on every account, but by its very nature, there does exist some commonality between all people. All people want to be able to adequately identify themselves, and thus identify with others.
Even in a Christian context, there is hardly unity of vision and belief. Despite this factor, it becomes evident that there is a need for unity beyond our varying beliefs. If we continue to travel down the road of exclusionary and individualist theologies, that unity will stay far out of sight. We must begin to see that while all people have vastly different experiences, humanity’s strivings for survival depend on people. We need each other. At the risk of pushing the boundaries of utopia, I suggest that the Christian community unite under the identity of being Christian first. Only then will we be able to adequately bring our varying experiences, theologies, and beliefs to the table without further perpetuating our individualistic culture.

should be working...

2005-11-15T01:12:00.000-08:00

So, I'm pretty sure these next few weeks will be the death of me. I have so much work to do. I guess its really no more work than I had in college, I think I just care a little more now. And I feel like there is a little more pressure for it to actually be good. I'm currently writing a paper for my systematic theology class with James Cone. I feel like this has to be really good...because, well, its freakin' James Cone. I will have a notable theologian reading my paper. I feel like he'll read it and be like "aww, thats sweet." My serious attempts at theology are like children's sermons to him. Nevertheless, I'm pretty excited about the paper.

I'm researching identity politics and Christian identity. In light of so many theologies, specifically liberation theologies, where our racial or ethnic identity precede our Christian identity, I am looking at the question "Can we be Christian first, and bring the rest of our identity to the table following our Christian identity. I feel like if this can happen, it would lead to a more unified and maybe universal theology of human existence. I fear that many liberation theologies perpetuate division in the church. We shall see....

For now, back to the paper. I've go to finish it so I can go home for Thanksgiving on Thursday

i'm a blogger virgin

2005-11-13T23:18:00.000-08:00

so this is my first time trying this blogging thing. We'll see how it goes. If nothing else, it will be a good way to waste time.

thank you ashley gill for the new procrastination tool