Do not think me gentle because I speak in praise of gentleness, or elegant because I honour the grace that keeps this world. I am a [wo]man crude as any, gross of speech, intolerant, stubborn, angry, full of fits and furies. That I may have spoken well at times, is not natural. A wonder is what it is. (Wendell Berry)

Monday, November 19, 2007

Sisterhood of the Traveling Toast

I love toast. Oasis is a good church for me to be in too because they love toast. We're one big happy toast family.
I like toast with
butter,
jelly,
honey,
cinnamon sugar,
nutella,
peanut butter,
peanut butter and chocolate sprinkles (thank you Holland for your contribution to the world of toast),
peanut butter and jelly
and I like blt's which one must make on toast.

I love toast!

Here are my secrets for perfect toast:
1. Don't refrigerate your butter. It won't go bad, you're just being a germophobe.
2. Make your toast after you've already made your tea or coffee but mostly tea because coffee is sick... so that it doesn't get cold while you're waiting for your morning beverage of choice. You must eat your toast warm, Frodo.
3. My final secret for perfect toast is this: once your toast pops up punch the toaster. Just kidding. Once your toast pops up, take one piece out and butter it THEN take the other piece out. By doing this, the second toast doesn't get unnecessarily chilly while you're buttering your first toast.

Now, there are different camps of toast making. I must say, I am not the queen of toast. Troy Cady is. Not only does he make some mean toast but he spreads the butter and the cinnamon sugar to all laterals of the quadrilateral toast. He also makes grilled cheese like a mofo*.**. So, in summation, Troy makes toast good, but by following my three secrets to toast, you can also make toast good too. I love toast.


*I can use the word "mofo" here because one time my mom called me a mofo because she heard it on t.v. and didn't know what it meant. She was like "pick up your socks, mofo," and I was like WHAT? And my sister almost peed in her pants. So I use "mofo" here in that sense. I also use it because no one will read it as the extended version as they would a$$ or buttmunch.
**I use "mofo" in the good sense like Amy uses "sick" every time she sees good dancing.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

knowing v. Knowing (this blog isn't about sex)

knowing versus Knowing. You can know about dcTalk or maybe you know some of their songs, but do you really Know them? Have you been to one of their concerts? Do you Know that Kevin Max crowd-surfs and is awesome? You can know about a place or even go there to visit, but living there allows you to Know it. I Know Madrid. I Know chicken parmesan subs. Actually, I would like to Know one right now, but from what I Know about Madrid and from what I Know about chicken parmensan, I can Deduce that I won't be getting one 'till I'm back in America.



I think this concept of knowing versus Knowing is crucial for scripture and spiritual matters. I can know that Paul said that he was the worst sinner he knew and that attitude should be our own. It is a different matter altogether to wake up in the morning and call your pastor to say that you don't think you're really saved because you don't know ANYONE who is capable of what you Know you did.

I have known Galatians 2:20 for a long time. It's one of the first verses I memorized. I might have forgotten the reference or when I learned it, but I have always been able to rattle off "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself up for me."
Over the last year I have spent a lot of time in Romans 6-8. One of the main themes of that chunk of chapters is that as a Christian, I can't let sin reign in my mortal body. I have to crucify my flesh again and again when the sin creeps back in. I've known this in theory for some time but I never really Knew how I'm supposed to crucify my flesh.
So I started flogging myself.
Just kidding.
What actually happened was I was sitting on the metro and the seats were full. I had gotten one of the last ones and it was when I was on the way from my house to the Cady's house which is kind of a long ride, like a half an hour or so. Anyways, I'm usually good about getting up when old people get on or people that obviously need the seat. So this woman gets on, probably in her 60's or so. Not that old. And I am sitting there and I know that I should probably get up and let her sit down. Then the putrescence that plagues every believer creeps in. "She's not that old." "My nana's older and she wouldn't need to sit." "Why doesn't one of the 30 other people around me with a seat get up." "She's probably going to get off soon anyways, and I have like 25 more minutes to go."
Then the holiness that helps every believer whooshes in. "It doesn't matter who she is, she's older, get up." "You just did a bible study on serving. Jesus washed feet, and you can't let an old lady sit?" "Don't listen to the putrescence. That's what I'm here for." "CRUCIFY THIS!"
Then I realized that's what crucifying the flesh is. Doing something that you don't want to do simply because Jesus would have done it. OR Not doing something you really, really want to do simply because Jesus would not have done it. I know that sounds simple and this post probably now sounds pointless, but it had never dawned on me like that before.

To my shame I sat there a little longer with these thoughts rolling around in my head and the idea of crucifixion and whatnot and then, finally got up. She sat down and muttered "gracias." She should have beat me upside the head with her giant old lady purse for taking so long.