Easter and Earth Day Unite (and free stuff!)

“Believe me, you will find more lessons in the woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you what you cannot learn from masters.”

— Bernard of Clairveaux (12th C theologian and mystic)

(Scroll to the end for free stuff; expires on Apr 26th!)

Earth Day is always April 22nd, Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox (go figure). This year that meant that these events were only two days apart (Easter on April 20, Earth Day on April 22) - intriguing since Jesus' death and resurrection had two days in between as well. 

In some ways this mirrors some of the church's behavior towards the earth. In rapture-esque theology that understands believers to be transported off of this planet "in the last days" there has been no reason to care for this planet: it was put here for our convenience, so let's take from it while we can. Since it'll be destroyed anyway we can pillage and extract and pollute as we desire; after all, God gave this planet to us humans.

Pillage and pollute aren't words that this theological tribe would own, but it's certainly the posture that they've taken. It comes from the same place as the belief that the majority race is ethnically superior to the minority (a la "12 Years a Slave"....excruciating movie!). Even though the church has fallen into a post-Christian era, the work of much of the oil industry, lumber industry, animal and big farming industry, is inherently supported by this kind of world view. "It's there and it'll make money, so let's go for it."

Certainly not ALL of the church has believed thus and acted thus. Certainly not. Innumerable followers of Jesus have espoused the need to be immersed in and to care for creation. Facebook this week carried the lament, "I wish more people did the work of caring for the Earth instead of arguing about who created it." Seriously. Yet there are scores and scores of known and unknown saints from the past (and the present!) who do the work of caring for this planet, this orbiting ball of goodness that we are as-yet unable to duplicate. That God is found in nature is an undeniable fact of Scripture; that God is honored by honoring this planet would seem to be a self-evident truth. And yet it's not. The Church should be the ones championing the green movement. And yet, for the most part, it's not.

Things seem to be changing, though. More and more people are committing their habits and their votes to saving this one planet that we have. I just wish it had been the Church leading the charge, rather than that Church catching up.

Echoes is trying to do what we can. On Easter Day we met in front of Bellingham's City Hall. Walking to the Courthouse and jail, and reading Jesus' arrest narrative, we located the story of Jesus in our city. Entering the Whatcom Creek trail and describing the death of the creek by early settlers and by the 1999 Olympic Pipeline explosion, we read Jesus' crucifixion narrative. Then, entering Maritime Heritage Park, we read the resurrection story. For indeed, through the work of countless many, our downtown park has been transformed into a life-giving area, redeeming it from the sacrificial death that humans had ravaged. Salmon are again nurtured and birthed. Habitat is restored not only for vital wildlife, but also for the sanity of humans who need to "lessons in the woods" (as Bernard of Clairvaux aptly states). And yes, the green space also provides some shelter to the shelterless. We have a glorious haven of nature right in downtown Bellingham, and it's history mirrors the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This Sunday was a tremendous experience of locating us and our place in the bigger picture of God's story. 

We found ourselves in Maritime Heritage Park through the work of Rae Edwards, Bellingham's Parks and Rec volunteer supervisor. When asked if she had a project for Echoes on Easter she pointed us to a HUGE mound of mulch that needed to be redistributed at the park. The mulch, which came from this year's chipped-up Christmas trees (hello, resurrection!), is spread so that invasive blackberry and ivy gets snuffed out so that habitat that supports a thriving ecosystem will replace it. So after our walk we donned gloves, shouldered mulch rakes, and to got about the work of practicing resurrection. It was a phenomenal experience.

One participant beatifully stated, "This may be the first Easter our sanctuary has been the outdoors, our choir the birds, our music the cascading waters of a creek, our flowers the random trillium and zillion dandelions, and our community wearing boots and work gloves instead of Easter finery." (Darlene Buss)

And just so we were explicitly promoting Earth Day, Echoes offered a free movie screening to Bellingham. Mt Baker Theater generously donated space, organizations like Nooksack Salmon Enhancement Association and Conservation Northwest hosted tables to provide the audience with information about their work, while others, such as Sustainable Connections, RE Sources, and Whatcom Land Trust, encouraged Bellinghamsters to attend. The award-winning movie, Elemental, follows three different conservationists as they focus on their campaigns to close the tar sands oil fields, clean up the Ganges river, and implement new technologies to reduce global warming. Hopefully motivated to go make a difference, audience members were directed towards the non-profits who were in attendance to sign up for more information, donate, and join their volunteer efforts. It aligned with a huge value of Echoes: connecting locals to ways by which they can help promote health and vitality to our city and county. 

It was a great two days....and I wonder what next year will bring?

AND NOW FOR THE FREE STUFF!

If you'd like to know more about the theology of creation-care, here is a fantastic resource...

A seminary that has had a strong earth-honoring bias is Regent College in Vancouver, BC. Until Saturday, April 26th, the college is offering several creation-care lectures for free! There's great stuff in these talks and classes, so download to your heart's content, and share what you learn with others.

Amost free, Leah Kostamo's new book on the history of A Rocha in Canada, Planted, is an excellent read, Through May 15th the Kindle version is only $3.99! The book is beautifully written, engaging, and highly praised by Canada's literary treasure, Margaret Atwood.

The complexity of St Patrick's Day

On my Facebook feed there are many, many posts about today being St Patrick's Day. Green-colored profile pics, wishes for a good day, plans for tonight, poem sharing, and a few that offer cautions. 

Christmas has loose ties to St Nicholas, but St Patrick's Day is about the only day in the Western world where we have such a big event connected to a specific saint. St Patrick's Day is famous for parades (we even have one here in Irish-lite Bellingham), green beer, green rivers, Irish accents, four-leaf clovers, leprechauns, and funny hats. 

Many people know a little bit about St Patrick: he was some regular 5th-century, British-born Roman teenager who was kidnapped by Irish bandits and served as a slave shepherd for years. That is, until he made a daring, courageous escape and eventually made it back home with great difficulty. While he was a shepherd slave he spent a lot of time in prayer and gave his heart to God. A few years later he had a vision of Irish people beckoning him to return, to which he responds by becoming a missionary to the land of his enslavement. According to legend Patrick is attributed with converting many of the wealthy and powerful in Ireland, forever changing the way of life for this island.

That's the story, and it's a good one even though there are a lot of sketchy and missing details. In light of the story, it's hard not to wonder what St Patrick would think about our modern-day recognition of his day? The fact that he even has a day is remarkable enough (there are loads of interesting, self-sacraficing missionaries in our history), but the traditions that we celebrate don't exactly match with the efforts and life of the man himself, do they?

Two Facebook posts of note today mention the darker side of Ireland and St Patrick's story. In one, my friend Michael Lee recounts the memoir Angela's Ashes along with a caution that our modern celebrations of March 17th are soaked in drunken, abusive masculinity. This poster is not drinking tonight. He writes, "Today, perhaps it would be better to celebrate the heroic actions and lives of the women of Ireland and the children, the sometimes-quiet suffering of family life with an alcoholic leak in the income stream, to standing up to those in power with only words, your wits, and a will to somehow survive. I think I'll leave the bottles on the shelf and in the store today, sorry Family Guinness and Jameson." I thankful for this thoughtful, challenging critique.

The other post is a blog by Roger Wolsey (whom I do not know personally, but certainly appreciate!), in which he highlights Patrick's history as a slave. Wolsey note that there are more slaves today than there were at the peak of the U.S. slave trade in the 1800s. Encouraging his readers to honor St Patrick by working toward ending slavery (link for specific donation-worthy agencies), he sees larger opportunities in this festive day than green beer and poorly-done Irish accents. After watching a phenomenal TED talk with Echoes last month on the topic of our current justice system, it's clear that we've got a whole lot of opportunities for change within our own race-penalizing sentencing systems, not to mention our neck-deep issues with sex-trafficking (did you see how high Seattle recently rated in this industry??). If Patrick was about holistic freedom (spiritually, physically, etc.), then could there be a better way to recognize his work then seeking ways to bring freedom to those who are captive and oppressed?

I'm grateful for these reflective voices today. While I plan to enjoy our first-ever game night tonight with Echoes, I'm also looking forward to some discussion regarding who Patrick really was and how we can be bearers of freedom, too. 

We lied. Tomorrow isn't Echoes' first worship experience.

Widely touted as "Echoes inaugural worship gathering!", tomorrow night's service is actually a sham. Oh, it IS a gathering for worship, that's very true. The sham is the "inaugural" part. True confession: this isn't really our first time to gather to worship. 

The first official event that Echoes ever did was last year, on Sunday, July 14th. I got a banner made, put together a little cardboard display board, picked up some tootsie rolls, and met another Echo-ite at the Farmer's Market area in order to host a table at the Bellingham Pride Parade. My companion had suggested glitter tattoos as a way to bring people to our table, and seriously, it was genius. Let's face it, most of us look for freebies at events like these. We scan the table, see if there is anything good, then move on. Our tattoos became a "must-stop" for those riding the table circuit. Each tattoo took several minutes and required us to actually place our hands on strangers, and to get into their personal space (most chose the tattoo to go on their cheek; don't go all gutter here...).

We had opportunities for small conversations, for getting to know a person a tiny bit, and to offer a free gift that made someone feel good. 

And this was worship. Some people asked about God while we leaned into their face to wipe off the wayward glitter flecks, but most didn't. Each person, though, was honored as an image of God, each person was welcomed to the table, each person was given our attention. 

No hymns, no formal liturgy, no offering plate, no Lord's prayer. But this was undoubtedly worship. 

Tomorrow night we start a new chapter by offering a monthly worship gathering to Bellingham. This might be the place that many Bellinghamsters connect to us, but I hope it's not the only avenue for involvement. It if were, then people would be missing out on the chance to worship at Theology Pub, around a dining table, with gloves and rakes at a work party in affiliation with local non-profits, blessing animals, and honoring the goodness of both Solstice and Advent. I don't think God waits for us to attend an official worship service in order to check off a "went to church this week" box. Instead, I think God smiles at the infinite opportunities we have to worship in lesser recognized ways.

Please don't think tomorrow night is the pinnacle or the goal of what we're doing with Echoes. It's not. I'm greatly looking forward to it and I think it's going to be awesome, and yet it's not the be-all, end-all of who we are or what we do. How do I know? All you had to do was see the smiles of our Pride booth visitors, or look at the bags of trash that we hauled up from Locust Beach, or consider the deep connection that was made over a Brene Brown TED talk and a potluck. Worship is all around us. Tomorrow night it'll be front and center. I can't wait, and I also can't wait for more worship opportunities to emerge from this creative community.

Ghost Cats

My parents' cat hates me. Whenever I visit she stays well clear of me, giving off the "don't even think of petting my glorious fur," vibe. When I ignore the signals, succumbing to my need to connect with her, my hand inevitably gets shredded. It causes me great angst, and it causes her monumental annoyance.

Which is why it's not terribly hard to believe that I came to the conclusions I did last night at my parents' house. Well, maybe it is, but at I feel a little haughty about it.

It took a while for me to get to sleep. I was in my sleeping bag because whenever I stay as a guest for only a night or two I like to simply bring my sleeping bag so sheets don't have to be washed. Besides, being in my sleeping bag is kind of bringing a part of my home with me. Anyway....I was woken in the middle of the night. I kid you not, it felt like a cat walked on my sleeping bag. But when I opened my eyes there was nothing there! I tried to explain it away, "Oh, my sleeping bag must've shifted, oh, you didn't just feel that." But I was positive I had felt it, and I was positive that it felt like cat paws on my sleeping bag. It couldn't have been a bag shift because when I awoke I was as still as Mt. Rushmore, and I knew no other mammal was in the room because the door was firmly shut.

So, my conclusion? "Oh my God my parents have a ghost cat!!" 

It was the only logical conclusion I could come to. A cat had walked on my sleeping bag + a cat wasn't there = invisible ghost cat. Right?

My mind went a little haywire then, imaging what a ghost cat would look like, and I got all this adrenaline worked up. Ferocious and evil looking was at the top of the list. Yes, yes, it could be meek and could be the ghost of a wonderful, well-loved, cat who was forgotten to be looked after by the neighbors when the owner was out of town and starved to death and occasionally visits people on its quest for love. But my fear leaped over the Hallmark-version cat ghost and it took a long time for me to get back to sleep.

Unbelievably (as if anything is believable in this story), it happened again!! As I felt the sensation of cat paws on my sleeping bag the second time my brain screamed as my emotions jolted awake, "See, it's true! And I'm never going to be able to sleep in this room again!" When my eyes opened this time, though, I caught sight of a cat form fleeing from the bed. 

Not a ghost cat. My parents cat. The cat who hates my guts, the cat who takes pleasure in drawing my blood, had pulled the biggest cat prank ever. She had gotten herself locked in my room and taken her skillful, cunning, manipulative cat-time to twist me into a loony mess. The feline guild of Oregon has just nominated her for "most innovative act of retribution."

Looking back on it for all of these 15 hours or so, it seems to strange that I really thought my parents had a ghost cat. But it wasn't at the time. The facts: 1) I expect to be hated by cats in that house, 2) I didn't have my best thinking capacities in a dark room in the middle of the night, 3) I really do believe that ghosts might exist. I've never considered a ghost cat before, but it certainly made sense last night. The fact that I decidedly did NOT know was that 4) my parents' cat would actually let herself be locked in with me.

A lot of things can make perfect sense, a lot of things can be believed as "logical" conclusions when we don't have all the facts. A lot of things can be looked at as absolutely insane in the after-thought, or when more facts come in. The thing is, though, sometimes we don't have access to all the facts, and sometimes we make conclusions from a series of other "facts" that renders us incapable of calling a fact a fact.

We can do this with ghost cats (okay, I can do this with ghost cats), we can do this with academics, we can do this with parenting, with statistics, with investments, with career choices, and yes, we can do this especially with theology, belief systems, and Scripture interpretation.

I was humbled a bit last night by jumping to a strange conclusion and then experiencing the emotions as if it were true, because for me, at the time, it was. My desire to embrace mystery when it comes to things to God is due in large part to my suspicion that I can actually discern "right" answers when I have a three-and-a-half pound brain and God is, well, God. 

Do I know what happens to people after they die? Do I know how salvation works? Do I know exactly what happened cosmically at the moment of Jesus' death? Do I know what on earth is going on - really - in the act of communion? Do I know how to explain Scripture that disagrees with itself? 

No. 

For me the Rapture is a ghost cat. For me a church that only welcomes certain people is a ghost cat. And these ideas/theologies/Scripture interpretations remain very logical conclusions for many. I'm positive that I believe in all sorts of ghost cats, but either I'm so invested in them, or they are so taken for granted that it's almost impossible for me to see a live cat, and so change my conclusions. 

It's a good thing we've got grace to receive from God, and grace to give to others. The trick is knowing how and when to call a ghost cat a ghost cat for others when you do know it's a false conclusion. Some of those ghost cats can simply live on without harming anyone, and some, well, they can do undue damage. The other trick is having enough humility to know that we all see ghost cats, and live within that reality. 

The secret words of the manger

As I lie in bed this night my heart and mind are tuned to the words that caught in my throat during tonight's Christmas Eve service. Who knew "Away in a Manger" could be so powerful? This beloved carol, so often ridiculed for espousing an un-crying Jesus, as if God incarnate wouldn't wail with hunger or the need for sleep, held words for me tonight. 

It's the first half of the last verse: "Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask you to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray," that broke me open. If you've known the song for years the tune comes easily, without effort. Those last five words, though, have slid by me for decades. 

"And love me, I pray".....I pray that you love me, Jesus. 

When I was in a college ministry I first heard the term "Jesus is my boyfriend music," which referred to a whole genre of worship songs that was singer-centric. "I love you, God. You are the best, Jesus. Hold me close, never let me go. Whisper sweet nothings, etc., etc., etc. After becoming aware of this trend the words started to creep me out a little bit. Not that there isn't precedent for it, some of Christianity's most beloved mystic-saints had rather erotic visions/experiences of Christ. Yet it can seem a little far-fetched to sing country-esque lyrics to the Creator of the Universe, especially when I don't often feel romantic love toward God.

A hymn that asks Jesus to love me seems rather extraordinary. First, it's not expressing that God already loves me. That God loves this earth and its inhabitants is often sung (probably to help us believe it), but not many hymns or songs ask God to love us. Second, it's incredibly vulnerable. To ask someone to love you is putting yourself on the line. What if they say no? To state that God loves me is one thing, to ask God to love me is quite another. 

As extraordinary as the words are, though, this plea seems more congruent with my inner world than either blathering about my undying love for God, or God's steadfast love for me. In my heart of hearts I just really want God to love me. That meek, squeaky, desperate request, "Lord Jesus, love me, I pray," is my inner cry, my inner desire, and is too oft unspoken. The words tonight allowed me to get in touch with this soul-level angst. Hearing my voice break at this phrase gave me the opportunity to actually ask God to love me....to realize I needed to ask.

In 44 minutes, on Pacific time, it will be Christmas Day (I could add some wonderful humor about Jesus being born at 12:01am on Dec. 25th, but I'll resist). This is the day that light came into the world. Not that light wasn't already here! But this light was in the form of an infant, born into a lowly social position, in a lowly cave, in a lowly town, in the presence of lowly shepherds. God didn't come with a lot of fanfare (simply compare Jesus' birth with this year's royal baby), and so God became accessible to all life. It became possible for me to ask Jesus to love me.

A few days ago thirty-five people gathered to recognize the coming of the light in a ceremony that honored both Solstice and Advent. We acknowledged the reality of darkness, and looked toward the coming of the light. It was a beautiful, sacred time (even with the labyrinth being too dark to see the path clearly enough!). Participants were asked to reflect upon where they hoped to see light in the upcoming year, and since I was leading I didn't do much reflecting.

Tonight, though, it's pretty clear: I want to acknowledge that inner whimper, that holy longing that just wants Jesus to love me. I don't even need to hear back that God does, indeed, love me. I just need to recognize and speak the request, and find God in the asking. 

Merry Christmas, my friends. 

Silencing the carols (and honoring Solstice | Advent)

During Advent many churches do not sing Christmas carols. Advent, the roughly four weeks leading up to Christmas day, is a time of preparation, of waiting with anticipation for Jesus to come on the scene. Christmas Day itself, the birth of Christ, is the catalyst to unleash all the joy of the Christmas carols that church goers, and even non-church goers, have come to expect and enjoy during this season.

So, in accordance with the Christian calendar, we're supposed to sing Christmas carols from Dec. 25th (or on Christmas Eve) until Jan. 6th, which is Epiphany. These days are known as the "twelve days of Christmas," and they start after Dec. 25th, not before. Advent is Advent, Christmas is Christmas - there is a time and a season for everything.

But. 

But I like singing Christmas carols before Christmas. Those carols build up anticipation for me!

Contrary to assumed thought, these songs have not been sung since time immemorial. The faith-based carols with which we're familiar were mostly written in the 1800s; they're not that old (as compared to some of the church's liturgy). St Francis (13th century) is attributed with starting the first Christmas pageants, which included live animals and singings songs that used local, happy drinking tunes. Christmas is festive (in fact, in 1647 Christmas was banned altogether in England because it was too merry!), and the songs we sing reflect the joy of the birth of our world's redeemer.

With all the preparation that goes into Christmas Day (most notably the gift-giving, travel plans, and meal preparations), it makes sense to me that the songs start early. We're already making plans, why not sing of what we're planning for?

Many of my colleagues disagree, for very good reasons. The delay of the carols highlights the waiting to which Advent calls us. I get that. I really do. Maybe I'm the ultimate Christmas consumer in that I want all the joy we can get in Advent and also during the 12 days of Christmas. 

What I DO like about squelching the cheer until Christmas Day is the acknowledgement that we live in a world that has certainly not seen the defeat of evil. December can be a month of crushing sadness for many, compounded by the long, dark days. Singing exuberantly in the midst of pain can make some people want to whack off goofy grins and hark the herald angels to kingdom come. Waiting to sing is respectful, it recognizes honestly that Jesus' work has not yet vanquished all sorrow, and that the story is not yet over. 

Echoes will be honoring the reality of the darkness on Dec. 21st. At 4:16pm (when the sun goes down here in Bellingham). We'll gather at Fairhaven Park to celebrate Advent and Solstice. Both Solstice and Advent attest to the reality of the darkness. Dec. 21st has the most darkness of any day of the year, but the light is coming. Light is coming. Light is coming. Light is coming," during some of my darkest days I had to be told this over and over again until I could finally believe it. The religious season, and the position of our planet relative to the sun, combine to make a fantastic opportunity to state what is now, and what is to come. We stand in solidarity with those who cannot sing yet, and we call forth the coming light that is so invisible to many.

As far as singing carols, I'm going to sneak in a few. Appropriately, with respect, the goofy grins restrained when needed. 

Why the church will fail you

A friend and I were having a conversation yesterday about how a church had failed a mutual friend of ours. This mutual friend has been experiencing considerable difficulty, the church has become aware of this, and yet has not reached out to her. It's a failure that causes distance, suspicion, and disillusion.

I was reminded that the offended friend has a phenomenal group of co-workers who have been an outlet for socializing, empathizing, and all-round excellent camaraderie. I'm so thankful for this! A loose comparison was made to the lack of attention given to our friend, versus the embrace she has received from her friends. 

It's true, there is a disappointing difference here. The church, the very people who are supposed to care for their own, have not done well in this case. They should have checked in. They should have inquired. They should have offered support. But they didn't. For whatever reason(s), they have failed her.

I have been told, "it must be tough to be a pastor." And it is. While pastoring a congregation is a life-giving vocation in so many ways, it is set up for failure in a myriad of ways, too. (At least in our current conceptions of how a church and pastor should function....but that's for another blog.)

The comparison between the group of friends and the church isn't really a fair one. Mutual support is only one aspect of a church community. For a group of friends mutual support is often the only aspect that keeps them together, and when it's done well it keeps them coming back for more. The group gives the individuals validity, companionship, social outlets, and much needed encouragement.

A church is supposed to do this, too. But, the difference lies in all the other things a church is supposed to do, too. A church is also supposed to plan and execute meaningful worship, take care of its finances, visit the sick, reach out to others, advocate for the marginalized, provide service for the community, be involved in social justice, have good theology, grow in membership, model servant-leadership, and have a healthy organizational structure that makes appropriate, astute decisions on behalf of the group. 

This creates a crazy amount of arenas for dissatisfaction. And a church is not like a business where one can separate out one's own soul from the business itself. No, our place of worship helps to create or maintain a sense of personal identity, and who we think we are in relation to God. A well-running church, then, is necessary for an individual's sense of who they are personally, how God works in the world, and how humanity is to live out our mission. So, not only are there a myriad of arenas in which a congregant can find dissatisfaction, a sense of self and our perception(s) of God are also on the line in regards to how well or how poorly a church functions. A kitchen that is habitually left messy by the youth group becomes a theological statement that we don't care enough about God's house, that YOU don't care enough about God's house, which then reflects poorly on me because you and I are in the same group that is choosing to follow God together. 

So yes, there's a heckuva lot to contend with as a church group and as a pastor. And rest assured, the church will fail you. In big ways or in small ways. As the church is trying to work on being a good support system to one another, it's also trying to do all those other things at the same time. The failure might not even happen in the personal support system, it might happen on a theological level, or a we're-not-doing-enough-for-the-poor level, or we're not offering enough alternatives for youth, or the pastor's preaching sucks, or the worship music is too hard to sing, or, or, or...

So for those of you who are checking out Echoes and finding yourselves reading this distressingly depressing blog I want to say: you are loved. This small group of non-conforming Jesus-followers will probably let you down somehow. We won't mean to, and we'd rather talk about it than have you be frustrated alone. Give us a try, and help us shape this community organically, to be a place where we can fail and learn from those failures in the hopes of learning to be a group that can disagree well together, while also working well together.

Who's self-obsessed? Me! Me! (includes cat video)

A number of weeks ago I blogged about the brand-new GoPro Hero3+ and the human desire to achieve more, do more, be more. 60 Minutes has taken notice of GoPro, too. As much as I'd like to think that Anderson Cooper read this blog, the billion dollar industry that GoPro has established probably speaks for itself.

As Cooper says, it's the perfect camera for a self-obsessed generation. Now that we have cameras on our phones, we're never without the possibilty of documenting where we are, what we're doing, and letting the world know how much fun we are. Google Glass is basically the GoPro on steroids, but they don't have the massive vault of footage and real-live "proof" that their gadget can make you look so extreme/clever/daring/courageous/heroic (and maybe way more than you really are).

Camera phones, Google Glass, GoPros. They're wonderful inventions that illuminate this need for so many humans to be on display. "Look at me!!!," is essentially what the photo and video posters are saying. It's like we regress to our inner four-year-old who constantly requests the attention and affirmation of others, "look at me twirl!", "look at me jump!", "look at me in my pirate suit!", "look at me throw sand!" 

This is a gross generalization, of course. Some of the stuff that people are capturing with their capable cameras is truly remarkable, and I really, really enjoy watching it. The good stuff and the banal stuff point to a human need for recognition, to be noticed, to be counted worthy. This desire might not manifest itself in everyone by the need for posting selfies and GoPros videos, but it's in just about every one of us. 

And it's not bad. Shoot, we were made in the image of God. Humans really are glorious, and most of us know it - at least about ourselves. Oh, we might struggle mightily with a hideous self image, or some form of neurosis or crippling PTSD, but we ARE glorious, and it's in us to want to receive some sort of recognition for that. And for those of us who absolutely cannot believe there is glory in us, it's probably a deep longing for which we hope secretly.

Sure this innate glory can get horribly confused with ego, and unfortunately a good chunk of selfies and selfy videos highlight this confusion. How many times have you wanted to complain about a Facebook friend for posting yet another photo of their dinner, or uploading an entire vacation album so that you are subjected to 150 crappy pictures instead of the eight good ones that offer a nice summary? With all this media out there it's easy to get annoyed at others for "wasting my time" with the less-than-perfect submissions. Another's ego (or less-refined social media skills) can become my own ego trip. It's so easy to shed all that glory and simply become selfish, self-absorbed, and petty.

In addition to showcasing our innate gllory, there is another other glorious aspect of the GoPro and instant camera availability: it cure does increase opportunities for creativity. A number of theologians have suggested that the crux of the "Imago Dei," or being made in the image of God, is the human capacity to create. God the Creator enabled humand to create, too, and so engage in divine work. 

To be sure, some work that is done by amateur camera phone enthusiasts, and GoPro dabblers certainly teeters on the divine. As Nick Woodman, GoPro CEO, said in the 60 Minutes interview that these cameras allow the average person to capture what only professionals could in the past. Instead of requiring exceedingly costly equipment and extra people to use the gear to capture footage, one person can now document some amazing feats - all on their own, with a $400 camera and a few accessories. And, as a person who's been in a lot of commercial videos, the editing itself can be glorious.

Examples I like:

Dog Faces

The Dolomites

The "look at me" prototype

Paragliding with your eagle (this is the same guy who strapped his camera onto the eagle; that video has over 6million views)

And, to show how easy it is, today I got my cat in the action (alas, it's shot on the "old" original GoPro Hero). This video took less than two hours to set up, shoot, and edit. Daisy's quick adventure:

We have a lot to be thankful for in this GoPro world. We can share in other's experiences, see things we'd otherwise not see, glory in the Imago Dei, push the boundaries of artistic limits.....and yes, be completely self-absorbed. Light and shadow: it's in us all, and on display everyday in our selfies and GoPro videos on Facebook, Google+, Tumblr, the revamped MySpace, YouTube, Vimeo, and others. We can't seem to get enough of our glorious selves.

"Death does not cause me sorrow"

(In honor of All Saints Day) 

1945: He was retrieving his camera gear with the rest of the photography team, when a Master Sargent told them they were being assigned a different task. Handing them a mirror and a tube of lipstick, their instructions were to approach the corpses and put the mirror up to lips of each body. If the mirror fogged, place a "L" on the forehead with the lipstick and a medical team will follow-up. No fog earned an "X" on the forehead. With thousands of bodies, they had an excruciating task.

"James" is a former soldier who was present at the liberation of the Dachau concentration camp. Several months ago he told me story after story of the war, memories that have been flooding back in the past six weeks as he lay in a hospice bed. Thinking about how technology has advanced war I said, "War is scary," to which James replied, "If war was scary I could handle it. War is terrifying. Terrifying. There was no place to hide." Tears streamed down his face.

Stories of the deaths of his son and wife followed. Claustrophobic, not able to bear an MRI chamber, his wife died of a brain aneurysm. "She died of fright," he said. He lost his son as a result of poor health choices, but even more difficult he says, is the loss of one of his daughters. Still alive, but estranged from the family, she's been "lost to hate."

James knows sorrow, he knows loss, and his life is waning. In considering his own mortality, he says, "Death does not cause me sorrow like most people." In spite of the horrific memories of war, James is at peace. He is ready for it. "Death, which we don't have to think about very often, is a byproduct of living." I am deeply impressed by James. In these memories he is conjuring up long-forgotten people; in the remembering he is honoring them and preparing to join them.

James was somehow not able to let tragedy defeat him.   He went on to live a productive life in which he helped a lot of others. In his reflections upon his own death he is helping even more. Like me.

I wonder about my own feelings about death. My death. It's hard to think about when I have a (mostly) healthy body, with years of work and adventure ahead. But it's coming. It's a physical reality that waits. I hope to have the peace that James does. I hope to be able to let thing be as they are, and to accumulate few regrets. 

Since James has gained a fair bit of wisdom in his years, I asked for some sage advice for life. He gave me two suggestions: 

1) "Don't push things". For instance, if you want a new car, and all you can think about is getting a new car, don't push through with your desires. Wait for the universe to provide. It may not be as fast you'd like (I'm not sure if he meant the car itself, or the speed with which it is acquired), but it will happen. 

2) "Keep your feet dry". Because when your feet get wet and stay wet, you'll eventually not be able to walk. 

Thank you, James, for teaching me about life, death, peace, and gratitude. 

The tiger within

Recently I gave a presentation on Echoes at a local Lutheran church. At the end I showed this illustration: 

It's how I envision this as-yet-fairly-small gathering. We are little, we are a bit unassuming, but there is a lot in us. Not that I'm expecting we'll turn into a massive, fearful killing machine (have you seen the power of tigers?). I think we're a vegetarian tiger, one that can celebrate life and mourn with those who suffer. 

But the truth is we're also that little cat doing some painting. Who knows what we'll find when our creativity is unleashed? We're looking for more artists, dreamers, non-conformists, and curious onlookers to help shape this unique community. Rawr.