for curiosity's sake

Hasarder, in her comment to my last post, asked what I was referring to regarding how Paul was accommodating to both Jews and "heathens."

Short answer: These are the books of the Bible which are generally accepted as penned by Paul. Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, Philemon. Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus (this second group are not quite as accepted). Check out the wikipedia articles on Paul or Tarsus.

I'm not exegetical wiz, but I'll break it down the way I understand it. This is the lonnnnnnggg answer.

Jesus grew up and preached. He preached about love. The way I understand the theme, if we can say that, of Jesus' preaching is that he wanted people, Jews, to worry less about the legalism of the Law and more about the genuineness and holiness of their heart and spirit. To stop missing the forest for the trees, if you will. The fact is, Jesus preached to Jews because of his immense desire to motivate them to be better and Godlier Jews. Jesus didn't preach to initiate the Christian Church.

But it happened. Jesus preached in a very small area. Paul (and others) took that message beyond the local. Paul made it to what is now Turkey and Greece. Here there were fewer Jews. Paul's writings in the Bible, which are mostly letters to churches in Greece and Turkey, deal with the question: "what about the gentiles who want to follow Jesus?"

These gentiles, non-Jews, were not followers of the Laws - the laws of Moses. So if they decide to follow Jesus, should they eat kosher, keep the Sabbath, get circumcised?

It turned out, a bunch of those guys that new Jesus, and some that didn't know him (like Paul), decided that the "God fearing gentiles," and Christ followers should not be required to be circumcised. Was this a political move in order to increase the ranks (would you get circumcised as an adult for religion?)? The decision to not require circumcision, and other decisions were then a modern interpretation of the Laws and the teachings of Jesus. This is a process of binding and loosing, forbidding and allowing certain behaviors based on the wisdom of a rabbi. Problem! The rabbis refused to acknowledge Jesus, so this new group had to start making these big decisions. This is what brings us to "the council of Jerusalem," or that meeting with all those guys who knew Jesus.

So after these guys got together and made these interpretive decisions, Paul went his own way and did all that preaching and writing in Greece and Turkey. These epistles, or letters, make up a huge chunk of the New Testament. They have become the foundation for Christianity.

Some of the accommodating things attributed to Paul:

"For since I am free from all I can make myself a slave to all, in order to gain even more people. To the Jews I became a Jew to gain the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) to gain those under the law. To those free from the law I became like one free from the law (though I am not free from God's law but under the law of Christ) to gain those free from the law. To the weak I became weak in order to gain the weak. I have become all things to all people, so that by all means I may save some."
--1 Corinthians 9:19-22 (emphasis is mine)

These was a question of eating. If I as a Law-abiding Christ-follower am invited to eat at the home of an "unbeliever," should I eat their food, which may not be properly prepared and blessed, or may *gasp* be blessed unto demons? Here's what Paul says, in his incredibly liberal wisdom for the time:
"'Everything is lawful,' but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is lawful' but not everything builds others up. Do not seek your own good, but the good of the other person. Eat anything that is sold in the marketplace without questions of conscience, for the earth and its abundance are the Lord's (from Psalm 24:1). If an unbeliever invites you to dinner and you want to go, eat whatever is served without asking questions of conscience... So whether you eat or drink, whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God. Do not give offense to the Jews or Greeks, or to the church of God.
--1 Corinthians 10:23-28, 32 (emphasis is mine)

Here's another I adore: in 1 Corinthians 13, Paul addresses the falseness of religion and gives a working definition of love.
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but I do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal... If I give away everything I own, and if I give over my body in order to boast, but do not have love, I receive no benefit. Love is patient, love is kind, it is not envious. Love does not brag, it is not puffed up. It is not rude, it is not self-serving, it is not easily angered or resentful. It is not glad about injustice, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."
--1 Corinthians 13:1, 3-8.

With these few tidbits in mind, I can safely say that Paul paved new ground in religion. He was persecuted for it, of course. But what he had to say is the alleged foundation of modern Christianity. We've built our theology on his words. But we've not built our lives around it. Paul preached that we do not have to live under the Hebraic laws because we can live under the laws of Christ, and he gave us his interpretation of those laws. What I see the modern church doing today is a very dangerous binding and loosing. We are totally into the "not under the law" bit, as long as we are 'born again.' But if you aren't a card carrying Evangelical, then you are under our laws to a degree we will not submit ourselves unto. Scary, since Jesus said in Matthew 3:16, "whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." And what about all that love stuff? We're just going to chuck it because it's not convenient? not quite as pressing?

My point in all this history and layman's extrapolation is that we simply cannot stop changing. Only when the world stops being the world, constantly changing and growing, can we as Christians stop changing. We have some words, and some more words. But most of what we have in the Bible is the inspired interpretation of a bunch of really Godly people. Really Godly people still exist and they can still interpret the Words we have. This is the only way to keep the Church relevant. Let's keep binding and loosing for ourselves first before we worry about those with no interest in our 'yoke.'

blablabla...

The global warming "debate"

I'm sorry, I didn't realize global warming was still a debate. I thought it was a fact. The debate is who should do what to reduce the rate of warming.

I'm also sorry to inform the religious right that I am capable of worrying about more issues than abortion, gay rights, and sex ed. Poverty, global warming, AIDS.

Here's the background... Some folks, including Dr. James Dobson, wrote a letter to Dr. Roy Taylor, the chairman of the board at the National Association of Evangelicals. In this letter these folks express their concern about the vice president of government relations at NAE, Richard Cizik. Their main claim in this letter is that Cizik, as he expresses his views, is understood to be speaking for the NAE, which then represents the voices of Evangelicals in general. The problem with this, according to Dobson, et al is that the NAE "lacks the expertise to take a position on global warming." Although "it does appear that the earth is warming," Dobson et al suggest that the NEA should not be addressed theologically, since it is a "dividing and demoralizing" issue. Finally, the writers call for the resignation of Cizik if he cannot refrain from this demoralization and work to represent the NAE's commitmentment to defend "traditional values."

I have a couple of very basic arguments.
First, raising awareness of new issues does not have to be a distraction. Perhaps, and my rightest friends forgive me, but just perhaps, focusing only on what marriage is, not teaching young people how to use condoms, and arguing over why and when and who should have an abortion is actually the distraction. Is it possible that these micro-issues are narrowing the spectrum of relevancy of modern christianity. In no uncertain terms, these issues distract the secular (or, in church-speak, the 'unchurched') from the love of Christ. All they see is the hate, bigotry, self-rightousness, and uselessness of today's church. Don't insult me by assuming that I cannot occupy myself with more issues than you care to worry over yourself. Perhaps you, religious right, are worried that someone might think I care more.

Secondly, it is an insult to God to not be good and efficient stewards of the earth. Can we not honor what we are given? Fine, it is not a theological issue, but as Christians we should care for creation. The gluttonous rape of our lands is easy and easy to ignore. But being wise consumers and preservationists of our world is one of the many ways we as humans can share in the nature of God. God called the earth, the trees, flowers, animals, water, and air on it good. It is unGodly to waste them. If there are proven methods of less wasteful consumption of these goods, then we should be made more aware of them and encouraged to participate in them. The left encourages us to do this for the sake of the planet. The right should likewise encourage this participation, but for a greater reason, in order to honor God and his love of creation and all that is in it.

Thirdly, I'm so tired of this idea that to distract from mainstream Christianity is somehow unChristian. Puhlease. I can't form any better argument. PUHLEASE! Asking for Cizik's resignation because he is doing something "divisive" is like asking for Jesus' resignation because he was being divisive from then modern Judaism. It's like asking for Paul's resignation because he sought to accomodate the Jews and the "heathen." Forgive my extreme similes, but I hope you get my point. This extremism that Dobson & Co. are demonstrating is more like the farsical works of Michael Moore than the loving example of Jesus.

And that's all I've got to say.

However, if you're interested in paying attention to this debate, and what the big guys have to say, like Jim Wallis, one of the ring leaders of the "red letter" movement, check out this blog!

"get on over to the other side!"

Can you tell me, what does it mean to “get over” something?

I just watched a rather cliché film about soldiers returning to Iraq. But it moved me intensely because it asks the question, “how?”

When nothing seems right, and everything seems backward, we find ourselves first asking why. Why did it happen? Why him? Why me? Why now? Then we ask how.

Some people ask, “How do I get through this?”

Others ask, “How do I get over this?”

Can you tell me, is there a difference? What is it?

Perhaps you aren’t interested in the minuscule details of the sentence. But to me words are life. Words are logic. Logic is reason. Reason is what makes us human. Reason and logic is why we are higher life forms. Reason is the image of God in us.

In this film I watched, several soldiers came back from Iraq to the same small town. One came back in a coffin. One came back with out her hand. One came to find himself replaced at work. One guy’s girlfriend wouldn’t speak to him. And one came back to a son who hated him.

They were all expected to get over what they had experienced.

So they each dealt in their own unique ways. Stop trusting. Develop an alcohol problem. Become exceedingly violent, take some people hostage and get yourself killed. Go back to war.

Some people got over and some people got through.

So, what is the difference?




You have been walking for miles. Days. You have been walking in a dark forest with perils worse than those of your nightmares. The pain in all of your limbs is so intense that your body has entered a state of shock in which the pain is now a throbbing numbness, like your reasoning skills.

You find yourself at a river.

The river marks the end of the forest and on the other side is a place stunningly similar to the place you once called home.

The river, however, is wildly dangerous. Rapids. Boulders. It is at the bottom of a deep ravine.

You look to the north and notice a deer trail. You could attempt to descend into the ravine on the deer trail.

You look to the south and realize there is a brand new bridge crossing the river ravine.

What do you do? While risking your life on the trail and then crossing the river does sound noble, it would be exceedingly stupid considering there is a perfectly safe bridge. So you cross the bridge and return to the place resembling home.

You made it through the forest. The forest left its mark on you. It scarred you. It might have ripped parts of you to shreds. But you made it through and are changed because of the experience. You have wisdom and warnings to share with others. You have become stronger and more confident. You now know how to handle forests.

You simply got over the river. You did not drink of its waters or face its threats. The river left no mark on you and you left no mark on it. You avoided it and are ignorant of what lies within it.

When you get through, you learn and grow.

When you get over, you simply avoid.

I will not, with respect for myself, my God given responsibility to increase in wisdom, and for the lessons to be learned, simply “get over” anything which holds within it any potential for positive, no matter how difficult that positive is.

And with respect to other people, I will not ask or expect them to simply get over their crisis. I will challenge them to face the demons of their forests and to search for the lessons and the increase.

This is life. Every day, every moment is an experience for us to tackle and get through. It is not a bridge to the next better moment. Life can be a series of answers to questions which create more questions; always adding wisdom and curiosity and unquenchable thirst for truth and meaning. Or, life can be a series of bridges which consistently avoid the pain and the beauty Creation holds within it.

Will you get over or will you get through? Will you expect your neighbor to get over, or will you help him to get through?

God speed, little man

Mom asked me to write a letter to Erik's supporters explaining why he might be having a tough time, with the tragic news he's recently recieved, in addition to the difficulties of being away from home. Maybe you'd like to read it too...



Being out of your comfort zone can be traumatic. If you do not have a proper support system for traumatic events, they will scar you rather than help you to grow stronger. In our daily lives there are plenty of uncomfortable experiences. We each have "issues" that we face, and as we do, we make the decision to continue in comfort or try to grow through and above that issue. Sometimes we face conflicts that require us to chose between our passion and our comfort. Let's just be honest and admit that we usually choose our comfort; it's more natural. Some of us, however, attempt to be faithful to our God-inspired passions and trust that He will see us through what ever discomforts come along. Erik chose to go with his passion... He's in a very uncomfortable place now.

Just over 24 months ago I left America and joined the US Peace Corps. I now teach English in a small town in south eastern Bulgaria. If you haven't experienced life in a foreign country that is below the level of "developed," I can tell you something about it. I can't tell you what Kyrgyzstan is like, but you can assume that what Bulgaria or Romania is like, is intensified dramatically in the Asian countries of the former soviet block.

Any time you leave your culture, whether that place is developed or not, you must face a new and unknown culture. A development worker (and missionaries should be in the business of development on many levels) is required to attempt to understand and integrate into this culture. This assaults you on so many different levels. Your ideas of right and wrong are challenged. Is it Right? or is it just different? Everything you know to be familiar is gone, from food to sanitation. Etiquette, public and private; communication, group dynamics, ethical and moral standards, unspoken codes of behavior... And at the end of the day you just want a hug or a chocolate bar. Or mom's pot roast, or apple pie, or your favorite fast food take out. The effective development worker realizes these differences and is forced to analyze them, decide which they cannot participate in (for me, it's blatant cheating and race-bashing), and more importantly, how to delicately and respectfully show their own values with out losing the respect of the host culture. In my 24 months, I've learned a tremendous amount about the culture I'm in. I respect it. Parts of it I adore. Parts of it I detest. Every day I learn something new. And every day that I challenge myself is exhausting. Some days I choose to be comfortable though. I have the luxury of a TV, Internet, and a "supermarket" (that means three isles and two checkout counters, rather than shouting my order at the one lady behind the counter). I can stay in, stay warm, and stay safe. All Saturday, I can stay in my pjs if I please.

But what about when crisis strikes? For us in our safe places, we turn to our support system. That probably includes your friends, family, your faith, and your church. Some of us have some unhealthy things we do such as over eating, watching TV, or alcohol and/ or drugs. There are of course some healthy distractions, like music, exercise, socializing, and pets. But what about when those support systems are not available? I can tell you that first, everything seems so much bigger than it really is, unless you push it off to the side and don't handle it at all. Second, daily life becomes more of a chore and less than a great experience full of potential. You are merely dealing and managing- floating in a cocoon you create to make a safe place. Third, healing takes much longer. It's like trying to cure a wound with out Neosporin. It'll heal on its own, but not as quickly and not as cleanly.

Erik found out recently, as many of you know, that Eric Falk and Emmy Scott were killed in a car accident. Pastor Falk was not only a pastor and mentor to Erik, but a good friend and camping buddy. Another problem of being far-flung, is that frequently communication is sketchy. So Erik ended up finding out about this tragedy through a church mass email, rather than through a face or even a voice. Now, with nearly two weeks left in their service, Erik must face every day with the challenges this foreign culture, climate, language and people present, but with the grief of losing a good friend. In development work, every next day holds more potential than the one before. Your skills are greater, your contacts have increased, the host community has developed more trust and respect for you. This makes that last leg of the period, whether it's 9 months or 9 days, the most valuable for everyone who has invested in that development. Unfortunately, it is naturally a very difficult period where most people develop an exhaustion or "senior-itis" syndrome. Can you imagine adding to that the grief of losing a good friend and mentor?

We need to pray that Erik can stay strong and encouraging. He needs your prayers to be the leader and comforter that God has created him to be. There is a lot of development left to be done by that team and Erik, through his grief, frustration, and exhaustion must find a way to do the work of God there.

here i am..

i walked out on a class today. i think i've done this three times now. with all that has happened, i could not bring myself to fight with my students to participate. i simply didn't have it in me. as i stood there, these words ran through my head: "my brother is in a foreign land, possibly not aware that his good friend is dead. these *$@! don't even want me here, yet here i am when i should be with my family and friends. with my brother." so i gathered my things, said, "teach yourselves english," and walked out. i went to the teachers' bathroom and sobbed on the floor. it just doesn't seem right.

My mom and sister went to the visitation yesterday. When they greeted the wife of the deceased, she asked how our Erik is doing. I imagine she was mildly surprised not to see him there. My mom looked at her and said, "Erik doesn't know." According to mom, Amanda nearly fell to her knees in shock and anguish. She wept for my brother. Then she prayed that he would be comforted with God's peace.

The human spirit amazes me. This woman has lost her young husband and she mourns for a young boy's loss. She mourns not only for herself, but for each person who mourns with her. This is how we are a part of the whole. This is how we are not an island. This is the oneness of humanity.

it's just enough to see a shooting star to know you're really never far...

I never really realized how close my family is. It is trite, but distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Do you ever feel like there’s somewhere else you should be, but that you should also be where you are? You are torn between to places, people, and/or situations. PC Bulgaria has been amazing and I would not trade it for anything! But sometimes I felt the most miserable guilt for being here.

My brother graduated high school.
My mom had her ankle reconstructed and was disabled for over three months.
My sister’s good friend died in a car accident.
My best friend’s brother died.
My mom had a tumor scare resulting in a complete hysterectomy.
Two members of our church including a friend to my sister and brother, and a mentor, friend, and guide to my brother were killed in a car accident.

I didn’t realize how much I adore my family until I sob in pain for their loss, not my own. That Eric and Emmy were killed is sad to me in a humanitarian way. “No man is an island entire of its self; every man is a part of the continent, a part of the main. Any man’s death diminishes me because I’m involved in mankind… Ask not for whom the bell tolls… It tolls for thee. Humanity, Christianity, Nashville, Christ Church suffered a great loss that day. It is my brother’s pain that doubles me over in grief. It is knowing that my darling, smiling, cheery boy will grow weak in his knees; his shoulders will shrug in; his chin and lip will tremble as he tries to understand the details. He will go to a quiet place to be alone and cry to the God who he cannot understand. He will want to be alone and untouched for a while. He will come out of the quiet place and want to be with people. He will look to those he is with for hugs, comfort, sympathy, and understanding. It breaks my heart that I won’t be there, more than anything, I wish I were with him, or at least that he were home.

But this is part of growing up, part of life. We learn how to cope, to mourn, to deal, and to move on. Some of us suffer more and earlier. I’ve been so blessed. I’ve never had a close friend or immediate family member die an untimely death.

When I mentioned to my mother that I feel like I’ve missed so much in these two years, she said that Erik and Elayna have been through more in these two years than most kids their age. I can only pray that these losses will help them to grow into better and stronger people.

I sit here in my warm room and cry out asking why. Feeling like a great Wrong is being committed. Of course, I have the faith to say that God works all things for the glory of those that love him. Of course, I believe that in everything there is meaning and Purpose. That doesn’t make it hurt less.

I picked up a book from a friend today called, “We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families” by Phillip Gourevitch. It’s a book of stories about the genocide in Rwanda. I read a few pages in an attempt to distract myself from my own sadness. We cry for our immediate losses, as we should; but why can the world not cry out for the crimes against humanity? An untimely death is tragic. The untimely death of one million souls in a period of 100 days is more than tragic. It’s inconceivable. It’s unimaginable. You can imagine your mother dying and the pain you would feel. Can you even begin to empathize with a person who has lost everyone they know? Maybe everyone (of that ethnic or religious group) they have ever known? This is the answer to the question, “Miss, why must we read these disgusting things?” my students ask as we learn about Rwanda. Wouldn’t you want some one to know? Wouldn’t you want some one to care?

I’m sorry these thoughts are so rambled and inornate. Thanks for reading anyway.

It tolls for thee

There are so many words, themes, ideas, groanings of my spirit that I want to pour out into words. Love. Love of God. Love of Family. Guilt. Pride. Sorrow. Loss. Where does one begin?

My brother is in Kyrgastan with YWAM. He’s got another two weeks or so before he completes his service there. He’s there because he’s had leaders and mentors who have encouraged him to live beyond himself, to dare, to try, to be bold, and to always have faith. When Erik, my brother, started attending Christ Church Nashville, he was a senior in high school. He became involved in the young adult ministry, which was pastored by Eric Falk. That winter Eric Falk took a group of young people to Texas for the World Mandate Conference, a convention for world missions. Our Erik came back on fire for world missions.


Last summer, Eric Falk and a group of people from our church went to Israel. Erik joined them on that trip. Eric baptised Erik in the Jordan River

Eric Falk, since then was moved to the position of Missions Pastor. He was integral in getting my brother to Kyrgastan, helping him to raise funds and supporting him spiritually as a mentor, leader, and brother.

This winter, actually, just a few days ago, Eric Falk took a group of young people including Emmy Scott, a friend of my brother and sister and active leader in young adult and youth programming, again to the World Mandate Conference in Texas. They lost control of the van and collided with a tractor-trailer. Eric and Emmy were killed.

A twenty-six year old woman became a widow.

Loving parents lost a daughter.

A church lost two faithful leaders and servants.

What hurts me the most? My siblings lost friends and I can do nothing.

My brother is supposed to return in a couple weeks. YWAM is supposed to have contacted him shared this tragic news with him. We have no idea if our Erik knows of this loss. It will take a genuine miracle for him to get back to Nashville in time for the service on Tuesday. Miracles happen.

Parents knew the miracle of the love for a child.
A woman knew the miracle of the love for her husband.
A church knew the miracle of the love for a servant to its Master.

she's never gonna fly to the top of the world... right now...

For a combination of reasons including hormones, tiredness, and not the least, PC "senioritis" I'm feeling a bit homesick. I don't know why, but I really miss my family. I guess it's natural. But my brother has really been on my mind. Maybe it's just that I know he is so very far from home, and while I know it is difficult for him, from everything I can gather (from newsletters) he seems to be very active and integral in his group and in the community he's in.

Jared and Erik left yesterday morning for two weeks. They are going
with our friend Sakoo (the guy excited about outdoor adventure and community
development) to a village for a week, then to Bishkek. Erik finds it
pretty humorous that the first time he's going hunting will be in KG. Our
team doesn't seem complete without them, and we look forward to their return but
we're also excited for this opportunity.

I chatted with Erik after he got back from this little excursion and found out that they went hunting and snow boarding. In the mountains of Kyrgastan. Amazing.

Maybe it's the overbearing, second-mother figure in me, or maybe this is what siblings should be like, or maybe I'm just excessively emotional, but these kids make me proud to tears. I can't wait to see what the next few years hold for our quirky kid sister...

God bless mommy and match box cars
God bless dad and thanks for the stars
God hears "Amen," wherever we are
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

From "Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)" performed by the Dixie Chicks, written by Radney Foster

"We live in our secure surroundings, and people die out there"

Most of us PCVs have at some point laughed about the giant tumors that many Bulgarians seem to have on their necks or faces. You see these big tumors and wonder what kind of abnormalities they might have in covered places or inside their bodies.

I met this older Bulgarian man who was so very friendly. He told me all about his family and his past. He told me that he had a son who had died of cancer when he was in his teens. He told me that many people died of cancer during those years from Chernobyl.

Is it possible that the high precedence of tumors and cancers are connected to the toxins spread 20 years ago? How many people across the former soviet block have gotten cancer as a result of the disaster at Chernobyl? Across Europe?

My friend Sarah is an English teacher in the Ukraine. She's told not to drink the water under any circumstances.

My mom has a good friend who moved to the Nashville area from Sarajevo, BiH (Bosnia and Herzegovina). When we where there, we visited her brother and sister-in-law. They had recently had a beautiful set of twins, after a very difficult pregnancy and an early delivery. My mom visited her friend recently and received very bad news. The sister-in-law, Ivana, has a baseball sized tumor on her rib. Mom's friend informed her that in BiH many babies get cancer, and of a baby who was born with cervical cancer.

Cancer every where, under any circumstances is devastating and disgusting. We wonder at the strength and courage of survivors. In America, and most of the developed world, we are so fortunate to have access to advanced medical technologies with which to fight these heart breaking and deadly struggles. But in countries only remotely developed, like those in Eastern Europe, not only do the not have the medical access to fight cancer as well, but they are not as well equiped to detect these ailments early and to fight it quickly, which we know is essential in the defeat against cancer.

What to me is especially sad, is that these people have so many other things in their lives to worry about. Many of you will never know how easy your life really is. If your greatest concern is the raise of gas prices, I won't feel sorry for you. Until you've had to get up at 4am to stand three hours in a bread line, until you spend your summer preparing for winter, until your family of four lives out of two rooms for six long months of winter, until your salary covers nothing more than your electricity bills, until your retirement payment is less than one meal at Cracker Barrel, I will not feel sorry for you.

Here's the sad part, I am aware of how very fortunate Eastern Europeans are compared to people in many other parts of the world. Central Asia is much worse off than here, and most of Africa is even farther behind.

I don't know why my rant against cancer led me to rant on world awareness... sorry

If you pray, please pray that this family doesn't lose a sister, wife, and daughter, and that those precious twins don't lose their mamo. And if you don't pray, find something you can do to help people less fortunate than yourself. And don't forget about the Bulgarian nurses and Palestinian doctor in Libya facing death for what is widely accepted as Gaddafi's scapegoat. Thank God, most of the nurses have family members who have recently received visas to visit them. Petition! Call your congressman! See what Amnesty International is doing! See if you can help save these people from dying at the hands of an unjust court. Please.

I would like to state my vision,

Life was so unfair.

We live in our secure surroundings,

And people die out there.

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sarajevo changed my mind.

And we all call out in despair.

All the love we need isn't there.

And we all sing songs in our room.

Sarajevo erects another doom.

Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Sarajevo.

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sarajevo, Sarajevo, Saraje-

Bosnia was so unkind.

Sure things would change if we really wanted them to.

No fear for children anymore.

There are babies in their beds,

Terror in their heads,

Love for the love of life.

When do the saints go marching in? [X4]

Walk on tip toe...

"Bosnia" The Cranberries

With love to Kyrgistan

I chatted with my brother online the other night. He sounded a little bit down. I'm sure it's been difficult for him to be so far from home through the holidays. It was nice to hear him say that he missed me and to say some words that I knew he needed to hear. Sometimes people need to hear what they know, but circumstances have caused them to doubt. Somehow telling my ever smiling, always idealistic, optimistic, loving, endearingly clumsy, darling, huggable, kissable kid brother that the people around him need him and have surely come to depend on his cheery disposition and tall and dependable shoulder somehow made me feel better. But boy, it sure did make me remember why I miss him.

I have a sister too. I love her to pieces. She's eight years younger than me. I think she's a precious young lady. There's a big age gap between us. By the time I left, my brother had begun developing "grown up" opinions on issues. We had finally gotten to the point where we could discuss hot topics, deep issues, news, opinions. I miss his fiery, idealized perspective. With my sister however, when I left for Bulgaria, she really hadn't developed into her personality. There really wasn't much we could talk about except how funny Arrested Development is, or quote lines from Napoleon Dynomite to each other.

We're planning on her coming out here in June and seeing some of Europe together. I can't wait to have some quality time to get to know the young lady my sister has become over the next to years, to discover those qualities that she's grown into.

Can I get a plate of meat?

It is so difficult for me to believe that the last month has flown past.



After Thanksgiving, things at school kicked into high gear. Some of my ninth graders approached me about doing a fundraiser for the local старчески дом (old people's home). In a whirlwind of chaos, including a couple broken hearts, tired feet, improvisation, and a few tears, we managed to raise 500 leva from teachers and students from our school. We used this money to buy some very needed items for the starcheski dom. We planned out a darling little program to brighten the day of the residents, but in an act of Providence, the electricity went out not even half way through. So we improvised.



The whole process was exhausting but it taught me a lot. I learned that some students are naturally predisposed in certain tendencies, and when fostered those tendencies will grow. However, when ignored those tendencies pass away. Some times bad experiences teach children if they have a voice of wisdom. Too many students suffer from a lack of voices of wisdom. I recognized how children must be taught to appreciate what "elders" have to say. Children must be taught to follow instruction. Children must be taught to respect each other, teachers, and elders. These are not things that come naturally. Naturally, children, who then grow to adults, think only of them selves. Babies don't ask mommy if now would be a good time for a feeding. Toddlers don't ask politely to use the toilet. Children must be taught not to interrupt, to follow instructions, to speak with respect, to be generous, to be kind, etc. I pray that those children who have been taught these things will not get discouraged in the dissemination of these ideas.



Then for Christmas, I headed south!! I visited for the first time, my friend Chrissy and her family. Chrissy and her little boy moved this way when her parents decided to retire here. I found myself in a warm and loving home with lots of yummy food and hot drinks. For Christmas dinner I wound up with a bunch of British expats, discovering the intricacies of British food, like what exactly is triffle, and why Yorkshire pudding hasn't any pudding.



After Christmas I wandered up to Krichim to see the host family and other loved ones. I, of course had plenty of delicious and delightful 'gosti' (visits). I took one of my girls to Plovdiv for a lovely walk around, and got to treat her to a nice girls' day out. Like always, it was refreshing and fun to see the host family. But there is a bitter sweetness about going there. The awkwardness that transformed into amazing love hangs in every move, reminding all of us that our special relationship will be painfully altered in a matter of months now.



I returned to Razlog with a slew of company. Becca's parents stayed in a hotel while a good friend, Sarah Stiles and Becca stayed with me. The good times and hardy laughs abounded as we hung out together. New Years Eve, I cooked up a slew of tasty American food and we celebrated, the lot of us girls, plus Becca's 'rents and Arin. We then proceeded to the center to watch our lives flash before us as we huddled together protectively to shield ourselves from the fire speeding at us from every direction. New Year's Eve in the Razlog center includes both individual and state-sponsored chaos. Fire works rocket both vertically and horizontally. Entertainment is optimized by suavely tossing a little bomb into a group of people, or even better, a group of dancing people and seeing who discovers the bomb and who will be the last to flee. Also entertaining: hurling bombs at women with children, hurling bombs into the fountain causing an explosion of water, drunk men holding handheld bottle rocket launchers and see how low his arm droops before his less-drunk friend rescues him- or shall I say, rescues the rest of us from him.



Then I headed South!! to Greece. Sarah and I took an early train down to Thessaloniki, Greece. It was so amazing! Not only was it refreshing to be in a developed, English speaking, well organized, tourist friendly, warmer place for a few days, but it was so nice to count on having someone to laugh with for a few days. Sarah and I haven't really hung out in a while, and it's been even longer since we had those kind of side splitting laughs. From hamming it up with kids, to plates of meat, to luring street dogs on trams, we just had fun together. And having fun is a good way to refresh your soul when it gets trampled by the reality of life as a teacher in Eastern Europe.



Sarah and I arrived in Thessaloniki, found our hostel, checked in, dumped our stuff, and went hunting for a place to eat. We joked about just wanting some meat. We found this cute little road and on it was a tavern which looked quite closed. Apparently Greece celebrates the 2nd of January as a holiday as well. When Sarah peeked in the window to see if it was open, a sweet lady came and welcomed us in. She, in English, said her pub was in fact open and she had very good prices. She could make us some meat. Sarah and I crack up. Then ordered a couple plates of meat, some salads, some other random food, and two very tasty glasses of sweet, red Greek wine.

We spent over two days meandering around Thessaloniki. I found it to be beautiful, friendly, and overflowing with reasonably-priced shopping.
Here is where I was trying to insert some lovely pics, but I'm facing some technical issues.

After Thessaloniki, we took an afternoon train six hours south to Athens. There we again, easily found our hotel, which we found to be remarkably clean and comfortable given the very nice price. We wondered around Athens for the next two nights and days. My feet have never known such pain. But Athens was worth it. I was just astonished by how friendly people were.

While we stood in front of the Parthenon, in the Acropolis, high above the rest of Athens, Sarah and I joked about why anyone would come all the way to Greece to see this, when we have the whole thing still standing in Nashville, the "Athens of the South." Of course we were joking, it's astonishing to see something so huge, so incredibly massive and old!! Sarah posed the question, why is Nashville called the "Athens of the South" or had I just made that up. No, I didn't create that nick-name. And having been in Athens and Nashville both, the comparison makes sense. Not only are both cities known for their appreciation of culture and education, both are filled with great hospitality, warmth, beauty, and tasty food.
Although I got home and slept for over 12 hours, it really was a refreshing journey!

I'll try to get some pics up eventually.

Не Сега

Миро:Не очаквай да мисля,

че в това има смисъл;

много казани думи

и тези “обичам те”

да стоят помежду ни;

недоказани думи.

Не очаквай да вярвам,

когато ми казваш,

че обичаш ме

Галя:Опитвам се да мисля,

Опитвам се да разбера

Приличаш ми на някои,

когото чаках досега.

И ако този път си ти -

няма ли силно да боли?

Аз не знам..

Може би аз не те познах,

може би още ме е страх..

Галя: Да разбера...

Миро: Аз дойдох да ти припомня.

Галя и Миро: повече неща за любовта..... но не сега.

Галя: Ако с теб се доближим, може би няма да сгрешим, но аз не знам.

Миро: Исках с теб но не посмях, може би също ме е страх.

Галя :Да разбера.

Миро: Аз дойдох да ти призная.

Галя и Миро: Повече неща за любовта..... но не сега.

Миро: Мислих много дълги нощи.

Галя: Чаках до сега, но все сама.

Миро: Мога да те чакам още.

Miro:
Don’t expect me to think,
That in this there is meaning;
Very said words
And these, “I love you”
Will stay between us;
Unproven words.
Don’t expect me to believe,
When you tell me that you love me.

Galia:
I try to think,
I try to understand
To me you look like someone,
For whom I waited until now.
And if this time it’s you-
Won’t it hurt badly?
I don’t know…
Maybe I don’t know you,
Maybe I’m still scared…

Galia: To understand
Miro: I came to remind you.
G + M: More things about love… but not now.

Galia: If with you we draw near each other, maybe we won’t be wrong, but I don’t know
Miro: I wanted you but didn’t dare, maybe I was scared too.

Galia: To understand.
Miro: I came to confess to you.
G + M: More things about love… but not now.

Miro: I thought many long nights.
Galia: I waited until now, but always alone.
Miro: I can wait for you more.
Galia: How to understand.
G + M: About love?

I just love this song. It's by КариЗма, my favorite Bulgarian duo. There's some truth to these lyrics. And it's just so pretty. The translation is mine, and it's literal- not so poetic. Sorry

not 100% bad

Life isn't light or darkness, it's having enough light to take the next step, and hoping to God the light goes with you.

We don't call something 'good' because it is all good, 100% good. This is why we need modifiers like, "completely," "entirely," and "one hundred percent." Otherwise we assume there is an element of not-so-good.

Sometimes, that 'thing' can be quite unpleasant, but there is enough goodness comprised in 'it' that we keep pushing ourselves to do 'it.' The goodness helps us to get up the next day and start doing 'it' again. The goodness we find in 'it' is the momentum that gets us started. For me, it is nearly impossible to stop, once I have begun. You can ask my parents, I never know when to quit.

School every day has become incredibly frustrating. I can't blame any one person, and I blame everybody, including myself. Everyday it seems I have forgotten why I am here. So I live for the spots of light and pray that in the next hour another spot of light will find me.

Spots of light can be pretty random. Like, when you are scheduled to teach eight hours in a period of six, and none of your twelfth graders come to either of their periods. A bit of a rest, and a lot of absences. Or, when half of that seventh grade class, which is notoriously the worst behaved class in school, stays downstairs to play table tennis during their hour with you, and you can work with the kids who care (and the rest of the class gets unexcused absences!). Or the smile you get from the disengaged girl in the back. Or when, even though they are wildly noisy, you know they love you and will remember you. Or when the class breaks out in Horo to practice for the program they are doing for the home for old people (that's how it translates okay!).

Yes, my kids are raising money and doing a program for the local nursing home. I can't tell you how excited this makes me. Those blessed old folks do not have it well, and my kiddos, they just have the biggest hearts. ... and mouths, to my chagrin

I have to depend on those moments to get me through each day. Even though most of the time they drive me crazy, there are moments when I get through to my students. Even if it is just one out of 25.

Peace

"If people who want nothing to do with God, and are hostile to church, and are considered kind of on the margins, if they love being around you, and very wound up religious people who think that they are right and everybody is wrong find you deeply disturbing and offensive, then you're being like Jesus."

From a sermon by Rob Bell called, "Jesus Wants to Save Christians - Part VII

Mars Hill has begun a new series concerning Christians and their role in seeking Peace. And they don't mean that inner cozy feeling. Capitol "P" Peace. World peace. Bell, in the first of the series asserts that Jesus, by dying on the cross, makes a statement to that government that he would not be a part of violence, and that Christians today have an obligation to seek peace. Sounds good. Follow along!

Some things are just too beautiful for words...

A picture of my mud covered brother -

somewhere in california I reckon.

Tennessee

I was not born in Tennessee. I don't know if I'd like to live there for the rest of my life. When we moved there I was traumatized. Of course, I was a 13 year old drama-queen, so everything traumatized me. But moving 3000 miles from the area you were born in, from your friends and family, from everything you know to be normal is a big deal.

When we moved, I did not make a significant effort to "integrate." At first, I wore the same green sweatshirt to school everyday- a sweatshirt my dad had bought me from the university he'd gone to, and where I took music lessons. Later, in high school, the band director called me "California girl" or just "California." While, this was realistically because there were so many of us in the band and he needed to use nicknames, it reminded me that I was different. My teachers asked me where I was from. They told me they knew I wasn't local because when I said "pen," it only had one syllable. I argued with my best friend, trying to convince her that "mirror" had two syllables.

I've had plenty of discussions about the south, and southern speech. And now I'm here to admit it. There was a time when I too was ignorant and uniformed enough to think that just because someone said they "might could help me" rather than they "might be able to help me" did not mean they don't know how to use modal verbs. For a long time I refused to speak "Southern" because I thought it sounded stupid. Nearly everyone associates a stereotype to an accent or dialect. I often wonder what other Bulgarians think about people in my little region.

Turns out, I just wanted to distinguish myself. I wanted people to know that I was different. I am not from here. But I got over that. I grew to love middle Tennessee, to recognize the benefits of the area and the people. I also went away to university and heard all these different types of pronunciation and recognized that we all have accents, and they have no reflection on our personality or intellect. So I gave in. I became from Tennessee.

If you are from or know anything about the south, particularly Tennessee, you'll 'perciate this little forward. -The last three are my own personal additions.

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED LIVING IN Tennessee:

Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.
There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 live in Tennessee.
There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Tennessee plus a couple no one's seen before.
If it grows, it sticks; if it crawls, it bites.
"Onced" and "twiced" are words.
It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.
People actually grow and eat okra.
"Fixinda" is one word.
There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper.
Iced tea is appropriate for all meals, and you start drinking it when you're two.
We do like a little tea with our sugar!
"Backards and forwards" means "I know everything about you."
"DJeet?" is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"
You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or it's too dark to see.
You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE FROM Tennessee IF:
You measure distance in minutes.
You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
You use "fixin'" as a verb and a noun. Example: "I'm fixing to go to the store." or "We're having hamburgers and fixin's for supper."
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable,grain, insect or animal.
You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
You know what a "dawg" is.
You carry jumper cables in your car... for your OWN car and a rope in the event you'll be needing a tow after a spell.
You only own four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.
The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require six pages for local gossip and sports.
You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.
You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit "a little warm."
You know all four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite past time known as "goin' Wal-Martin'" or off to "Wally World."
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good pinto-bean weather.
A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola or pop... it's a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: "What kinda coke you want?"
Fried catfish is the other white meat.
We don't need no stinking driver's ed... if our mama says we can drive, we can drive.
A "mess" has nothing in common with "a mess of food" or a "mess of trouble."
You BLEED ORANGE.
You shamelessly wear black and gold even though Vandy hasn't won anything 'ceptin that last game 'gainst Middle.

and then there was light

Ever have one of those days/weeks/months in which it seems like things have hit rock bottom? When you begin to question everything you are doing and are nearly ready to give it up and start over? The last week has been like that for me, except for a brief respite of distraction over the weekend.

School lately has been torture of a kind I've never before known. In a period of 6 hours I'm scheduled to teach 8. ehhh? I either left a class on the verge of tears or in a fit of violent rage. In either case, I feel completely useless. I hear myself saying, "Not one of these students want to learn, so why have I come all this way to teach them?"

I'm not going to quit of course. I've come this way. I've invested this much. I have some friendships from which I want to squeeze every bit of goodness I possibly can. But I might go completely crazy along the way. (no, i'm not there yet)

Funny how things have to hit rock bottom before they get better. Why can't life be just a little unpleasant before it takes a sudden hike upward? Maybe it does and we just don't recognize these improvements as miraculous blessings because we don't recognize our need for them?

Today, after teaching six classes in six hours (failure, since I was supposed to teach eight :x ), I was scheduled to teach an after school elective. Although I was beyond exhausted, I stayed because these kids are the stars in my dark night. I didn't really have a lesson plan, but I figured we could plan a Christmas party. Turns out, these precious young people would rather plan a charity event and fundraiser for the local nursing home.

We spent two hours, hungry and tired, after a full day of classes for all of us, planning ways to raise money and care for Razlog's elderly. Here's something you should understand. First, Bulgarian youth are not nearly as civic-minded as American youth, which really isn't very civic-minded to begin with. Secondly, Bulgaria has a very communal culture. People live in multi-generational homes. You can easily find a home with four generations in it. So, to have elderly living on their own, with out family to live with means they are indeed very lonely. And to have a group of five fifteen year-olds who want to help these people is something I cannot describe with words. These are the best of Razlog, I'm sure.

I'm so thankful for the spots of light that remind me that there are some amazing things I can be apart of here.

s'mores, turkey, chicken, and pumpkin mush

Thanksgiving is over. Last year I was miserable with a sinus infection, and miserable with spite. This year I have neither spite nor sinus troubles. I'm glad.

With Thanksgiving over there are so many things I can be thankful for. My friends and family, family friends. I'm glad for the incredibly deep and substative relationships I've made here, for the people who've helped to shape my life and the people whose lives I hope I too have touched. But being so far from home, it's hard to not think about all the things you miss. I'm not so tragically nastalgic. But I am eager to get back home.

So eager, in fact, that in a fit of anger at a group of kids so unruly that i wrote three numbers up on the board. Those numbers were not my lucky numbers, the addition of important dates in my life, my astrological numbers, or any other of the wacky guesses my kids made. They were 1, 2, and 8. In that order. They signify the number of school days remaining in my service. I feel a bit guilty for this count. But in that moment, when all around me was lunacy, that count, that goal helps me to maintain my sanity.

The rate at which sanity disolves in raving lunacy has increased by 100%. We can only hope and pray, and pray diligently that the situation is only temporary, but while the situation exists I am doomed. That situation is a near doubling of my weekly class hours. I'm all about stepping up. Being the big person. Taking one for the team. Going the extra mile. Bulgaria has yet to wring that out of me. So, a fellow English teacher has a daughter in the hospital (as I understand it through my messy Bulgarian) and may not be back for some time. I have taken on 12 of her class hours, in addition to my 15. That is utterly ridiculous. CRAZY! These classes are the weakest and hand-in-hand with weak performance is sadly poor behavior. For the first time, I had to conduct a class nearly entirly in Bulgarian. The saddest part is that these students study from a book that is leap years ahead of their profeciency level.

I don't know what I'll do. I am eager for the challenge of some of these classes. But I cannot feasibly carry 27 class hours a week. Not when you consider that I will be teaching 9 different levels. NINE!! I will gladly take on this extra work. Crazy people are always happier.

I meant to ramble about my different Thanksgiving celebration, but clearly it's more important that I complain...

sorry

Thanksgiving is coming!

Welcome to another lazy Sunday in my Bulgo-American life. It's actually been a pretty lazy weekend. Friday I went to the most popular "mehana" (traditional Bulgarian restaraunt) with a few girlfriends. This place is the place to be in our little valley. While we were too close to the speakers, we had a great time. Most mehana's don't bust out in raving rounds of horo. Most mehana's don't lead people to dangerous, bloody head injuries. Okay, so the guy was sloppy drunk and decided to jump and bang his head on the cowbells hanging from the ceiling. ohhh I do love my little valley. After our adventures at Mehana Makedonia, we headed over to the hopping party in Razlog at Barrata. I'd sworn never to go. I'd promised myself that while I might lose my dignity at every other town and village in this valley, not here. But I went to Razlog's only disco.

And it was fun. The moment we walked in I saw a pack of students. And they announced to their friends that two of their English teachers are here. So many of my students. It was intimidating. It was embarrassing. At one point, I looked across the room and I see a former student talking to a guy who I did not recognized. He was pointing at me. Not just a head-nod, point with the chin point. Not even just a finger point. He was wielding a full on whole arm point. Unbelievable. A few minutes later the same former student, a darling, sweet, always smiling tenth grader called Katia, came to my friend and colleague Yulia and asked her something. Then Katia asked me if she could introduce me to her friend. So as it turns out, this arm-pointer is a British guy named Chris. Strangely enough, I'd heard about him from some girls in a different tenth grade class. He'd offer to come and speak to their class and they bragged that they already had a native English speaker for a teacher. hmm.

Last night I went out with a bunch of folks and students. We made plans to go to Dobarsko and and cook a turkey on Thursday. Dobarsko is always a source of fun and trouble for me, so I'm super excited about this possibility. I'm also going to try my hand at real stuffing. Oh, and I'll finally get to share the joy of s'mores with Bulgarian youth. My former site mates sent a box of marshmallows and graham crackers so as to share the beauty of melty, sticky, gooey marshmallow-y deliciousness!

Then of course, Friday I will begin receiving guests. We may go to a bit of discoing in Bansko to see the world renowned Sofi Marinova, accompanied by the hip hop stylings of Ustata (translation: the mouth). There will be lots of cooking and merry-making.

Saturday will be a Thanksgiving throwdown Razlog style. Which means it will be a raging good time and there will be tons of food.

I feel like there is so much to look forward to even after the excitement and chaos of Thanksgiving passes. It seems like there are plans every weekend from now until the new year. Then the time will fly and before we know it, I'll be shopping for a prom dress, seeing my 12th graders off into their future, and sorting out my apartment. Bittersweet. It's just strange how quickly everything is going. That speed lunges my imagination into June. Picking up my sister, hopping around eastern Europe, getting my CELTA certs, and flying back to Nashville to readjust to western life.

I have a nasty habit of putting the cart before the horse. Let's see if my horses can push this cart along for the next 7 months.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.

This is a little bit from a bigger bit on the link up above. By the way, burnside writer's collective has a lot of neat pieces of writing by Christians, or religious people, or Jesus freaks, or spiritual folks, how ever you'd like to label them. More importantly, they're writing about issues that are important to them, not only about God and spirituality. Anyway, this book looks good and I suggest you buy the whole book, read it quickly, then mail it to me!!

I can’t say I’m “religious,” because we’ve all been taught the folly of that. Now everyone say it together: “This is not a religion, it’s a relationship.”

I can’t say I’m “a Jesus Freak,” because although I do know D.C. Talk’s rap by heart, I like people to wait in suspense a while before deciding I’m a freak. I don’t want to tell them right from the beginning. It takes the fun out of it.

I can’t say I’m “spiritual,” because people translate that as a simple “two thumbs up” for Mel Gibson’s Passion movie. Or they figure I subscribe to an online horoscope and watch TV shows about channeling my dead pets. Spirituality is very in, you know. My waitress, drycleaner, dentist, and grocery store cashier all have WWJD bracelets and copies of The Prayer of Jabez to prove it.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.Publisher: Zondervan (August 1, 2006)ISBN: 031026958XPrice: 12.99
You can purchase a copy of the book at Powells.com

In opposition to the religious right

I read an interesting article in the November 13 international edition of Newsweek called "An Evangelical Identity Crisis" by Lisa Miller. She quotes an evangelical pastor from Kansas, Adam Hamilton on the rising need for something beyond and more effective than the religious right.

The religious right has "gone too far," says Hamilton. "They've lost their focus on the spirit of Jesus and have separated the world into black and white, when the world is much more gray." He adds: "I can't see Jesus standing with signs at an anti-gay rally. It's hard to picture that."

This is an excerpt of an article concerning a new group of intellectuals and activists opposing the religious right. While the RR is very much used to being opposed, I'm sure it's relatively unaccustomed to being challenged by fellow Christian intellectuals and religious leaders. Besides heading up activism for a strictly peaceful debate with Iran, and an end to the genocide in Darfur, the Red Letter Christians or RLC seeks to motivate Evangelicals to seriously consider their vote and political persuasions according to the words of Jesus, not according traditional political lines. They also suggest that Evangelicals stand up and identify themselves on issues beyond same-sex marriage and abortion. How novel.

"Group asks: What did Jesus say?"
By Frank James
Chicago Tribune 9-19-2006

Randall Balmer, a Columbia University professor and expert on American religious history, gave just a sense of the fight that’s brewing.

".. The evangelical faith that nurtured me as a child and that sustains me as an adult has been hijacked by right wing zealots who really have no real understanding of the teachings of Jesus,” he said.

“They have taken the Gospel the Good News of Jesus Christ, something that I consider to be lovely and redemptive, and turned it into something ugly and punitive," he said. "They have cherry picked through the Scriptures wrenching verses out of context and used those verses as a bludgeon against their political enemies.”

Balmer went on to say he has no problem with faith in the public square. His problem was that the RR seemed to view itself as inseparable from the Republican party.

The Red Letter Christians seem to be the voice of Jesus in a world that has been listening to only the powerful for too long.