Swerving from the ordinary...

...into a bridge enbunkment...

Well, not to detract from the thoughts I've posted (or have yet to post) but I decided I would like to post this video.

Oh, if you were wondering what to get me for my birthday or Christmas, now you know.

Semantics & my own "ancient/future" ramblings

If you are familiar with the community movement known as Emergent then you will have an easier time figuring out what I'm talking about today (here is an interview done with some Emergent people by Relevant Magazine). As an article I was reading brings to light, some members of Emergent Village are criticized as being "too postmodern" in that they seem to reject absolute truth. However, (if you read the interview this is clear) it is actually more an issue of semantics than pure relativism. As Tony Jones says in the interview:

Emergent surely has people in it who strongly believe that there is absolute truth. I'm on the record as laying out a pretty complex understanding of why I think putting the qualifier absolute in front of truth is a modernistic fallacy. Truth is not qualified by adjectives like absolute. So for me personally, talking about absolute truth is a nonsensical way to talk, and surely Christian theologians shouldn't talk in that way. It isn't helpful, because it doesn't make sense.

Now, where he is going with that is deeper and in a slightly different direction from my current thoughts.

I am currently living in a small town working at a church that is 3 parts old-fashioned Nova Scotian conservative. Most of the church-goers have never even heard of Emergent, Relevant Magazine, Tony Jones, or even Brian McLaren. In fact, most probably don't have a good grasp on postmodernism or relativism. So, with such a crowd, obviously denouncing the adjective "absolute" when in conjunction with "truth" wouldn't fly, right?

In conscious practice, that's correct. Culturally, however, these small-towners (especially the church-goers) are far more postmodern than they realize. You see, though the local 'credo' may tote precepts like "foundational" and "fundamental" the daily interactions and communication are constant re-creations and re-interpretations of things that may or may not be true in some sense (sounds pretty relativistic to me).

The only reason, however, that this sounds odd for a small town is, again, because of semantics. In small-town culture, it's not called "relativism," it's called "the rumor-mill" (but it adds up to the same thing). A warning I received just after we got here was that sometimes people will tell you things that seem to be true (and, indeed, they will project it as such) but may be so corrupt in details or layered in opinion that either it isn't true or I need to sift through the "messenger's" paradigm to get a sense of what is "probable" truth. Of course, I performed such a "sifting" experiment on the very warning-givers and, hence, came to blog about it.

Further down this rabbit-hole I would like to discuss the idea plagiarism as well as my thoughts on 'purpose-driving' youth ministry. However, since the sun rises in the East it sets there earlier. It's late. Maybe I'll do a part two.

"This is not a love song..."

"...it's a sonnet."

Music is unbelievable. It has such power to enrage, impassion, encourage, and even annoy.

Lately I've been listening to a guy that goes by the moniker Matisyahu. He's a Hasidic Jew (curls, beard, hat, scarf, and all) who does reggae (very well, I might add). I know, I know, you've already heard about him and I've missed the boat; Well, my point is I like his music and his lyrics are great and deeply spiritual. Here is a link to a video of a live performance.

Besides Matisyahu, I've been listening to K-Os, Gnarls Barkley, Deleriou5, and Simon & Garfunkel. Click here.

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"The cars hiss by my window..."

"...like the waves down on the beach..."

Ok... so, who am I? Perhaps it is just coincidence that a picture no longer shows up in the "My photo" box on the right, but I would like to ask the question with a degree of seriousness.

I just read a bit of the beginning of the book Starving Jesus and what is sticking in my mind isn't his rebellion against church but his history as a youth pastor and Christian upbringing. Sounds like someone I know. And you know what, it's getting me thinking. Out here in the megacity of Oxford I'm still getting my feet wet as to who I'm ministering to and receiving from, how I should go about doing ministry, and what I should actually do. The church here is progressive in some ways and conservative in others and I'm cool with that. But reading this bit of reflection is stirring me up a little. I'm not saying that I don't want to pastor--cause I do. I'm not saying I'm going to look back on these years and shake my head--I'm sure I will regarding many of my screw-ups but I hope to have a good experience overall. What I'm saying is I am quite postmodern in the way I think, like to rock the boat to uncover the true motives and agenda, and can be obsessively non-conformist. I don't want to stilfe these elements of me and just "do church." At the same time, a lot of the things that feed my personality are not naturally a part of small town culture.

However, there is something in the air at night in Oxford (besides the rank smell of the local frozen food plant cleaning out the old onion rings) that stirs my soul and makes me want to roar. I just want to yell from a precipice "Awake, O sleeper! Rise up from the dead!" I've felt such before... and I like it.

I want to do great things. Really, most of us do. I don't know if what I think is great now is what I will achieve--and frankly, God's got dibs on the truly great designs--but I refuse to just be or just act or even just do. It's total cliche from my high school days, but I've gotta "live the life" in way more ways than I understood back in 1997. Curiously, that phrase reminds me of Mike Farrow: a dear friend who has been gone for two years now and whose memory (along with others) spurns me on in hope.

Ode to the Modern Prometheus

That's right folks. I finally read the great Romantic novel of Frankenstein and I definately recommend it. Apparantly I really like 19th Century Gothic fiction. Anyway...

Well, this isn't really an ode to poor Victor or his creature--more a venue to announce that we have arrived (8 days ago) in the Blueberry Capital of Canada. It is here that I will endeavour to be a youth pastor.

Oxford is an interesting little town. Actually, it is quite busy for only being 1300 people (and pretty much being a one-industry town: Oxford Frozen Foods). But we feel right at home here. Friendliness is a key maritime trait. That and the accent (which is definately stronger here than in Halifax/Dartmouth).

So, again I have little to say. But don't worry, I've been filling my WIDOLIF and sketching ideas for short and long fiction (with such influences as those I have been reading). And with that, I'm off...