That Saturday afternoon at the beach was breezy, but not cold. I didn’t bring a sweater, but I winded up with his. We walked along the pier, looked at dolphins, and I thought “This is it, this is when he’ll ask me.” But he didn’t. So I sent my friends to talk to him. But he kissed me beneath the pier that night, a smug smile as if asking me to be his girlfriend was his own idea, as if I hadn’t just sent several of my friends to tell him to just do it.
It was 2006. October 21, 2006.
Then many years later, I remember standing beneath that same pier while I forced myself to deal with the conflicting feelings. I had so many other memories here, but the ones of him and the day he asked me out often took over. I wrote a poem, a poem to whoever got the chance to be with me one day. Read More »
The last post on this topic wasn’t successful, but I liked doing it for my own records. I took some big turns from the last blog and would stop or start listening to the things I wrote about last month. I’ve had a hard time committing to Magic Lessons, mostly for the length. I decided to jump into a fiction novel and put the audio books on hold.Read More »
How did I wind up so interested in theology? I think the spark may have been lit in high school, as I remember being frustrated the way I’d basically memorize my youth pastor’s sermon points, but couldn’t retain anything in my AP Calculus class.
Then perhaps it was further dived into when the boy I had a crush on when I was 18 and 19 years old would talk to me late into the night about C.S. Lewis books and quotes. By 20, I was reading popular modern Christian authors as I tried to argue against this friend’s Rob Bell-type beliefs during that whole Love Wins / Erasing Hell madness in the Christian community (if you don’t know about that: good.) I’d even work out at the gym listening to David Platt sermons. Then my world started to break, and my beliefs in the world were challenged, and I tried to walk away from all the debates and arguments and appeals to emotion or intellect for awhile. I didn’t want to figure out the divide between the spiritual and the flesh anymore. I was tired. I was sore from watching the hate.Read More »
Recently I was reflecting on how much information I’ve been taking in with no real way to share it or process it fully. A friend suggested that I share what I’ve been reading or listening to as way to process it.Read More »
Communion. Eucharist. The Divine Meal. What does it all mean? Why do churches partake in this every Sunday, or twice a year, or in between church services the first Sunday of the month? Why are there so many arguments about what it means from a theological standpoint?
Throughout Christian history, so much has been said on Eucharist and what it means. I grew up Catholic, so Communion was very particular. We had a lot of rules and a lot of regulations. I took lessons for my First Communion when I was in 2nd grade, an event I wore a clean and white dress for. When I look back to that day, I remember feeling excluded by my peers, but I can’t remember why. I think they wouldn’t let me take a photo with them. My teacher was nice enough to take a photo with me. But then when I ate the paper flakes and drank the wine, it felt Holy.
I was an altar server for awhile, so I can’t tell you how many times I watched the Catholic Transfiguration of the bread and wine into the Body and Blood. To this day, however, I still don’t quite understand the concept. What I did understand? That there were a LOT of rules. I had to do confession twice a year. I had to keep going to Mass. I couldn’t get married outside the church. I couldn’t get divorced. I couldn’t have sex. All of these things would limit access to the Eucharist.
When I went to Protestant churches later on, the little juice cups got passed around with the little bread pieces attached… or at chapels in college, I’d tear off a piece of bread and dip it in the juice. I no longer believed that I was eating the Body of Jesus Christ, but something kept drawing me back to it. Read More »