CA Redemption Value

Some thoughts on trash:

A homeless man in his fifties pulls aluminum cans from the trash barrel in front of the Ralphs Supermarket where I shop. He’s clearly no amateur. What catches my attention this morning is not the act itself. He’s not the only person I've seen scavenging to get by today. This is Ocean Beach after all.

What arrests my general distraction is the way he cleans as he pulls the cans out of the refuse, taking time to pick the cigarette butts out of the ash tray on the top of the stone-speckled trash barrel, dropping them one by one into the bag as if to earn the recycling fees others didn't bother taking the time to redeem.

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When I was a reporter in Los Angeles, I worked for a newspaper that covered the Puente Hills Landfill in a strip of unincorporated county land that was once most likely a dairy farm. Now, it’s America’s largest trash heap at 150 meters tall and covering more than 700 acres. I once covered a meeting where officials discussed the rate at which the massive trash mountain was summiting the space allotted to it. At one point in the meeting, a plan to ship the region’s trash by rail into the Nevada desert was discussed, though not seriously. Apparently, the same objection came up every time the concept was mentioned. It’s less expensive (and thus, more profitable) to continue with the current business model until it is no longer viable.

No word on how viable the people of Nevada find the alternative.

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I love family stories, especially the ones from before I was born. Apparently, there was a DIY trend in the early 70s where particularly resourceful interior design types would piece together area rugs from a number of smaller pieces of (hopefully) corresponding color, though I did mention this was the 70s, right? In my mind’s eye, it’s like a shag quilt. All one needed were the remainders of other pieces of plush pile or low nap and the desire to turn said scraps into one Franken-rug.

My parents apparently harbored said desire, which is why, on more than one occasion, you could find my older brother in the dumpster behind a carpet store. I’m told the results were lovely, though no pictures exist as confirmation.

-#-

I may be over-simplifying, but as I relive these scenes I can’t help but see the writing in them all.

Michael Dean Clark is the fiction editor at Relief, as well as an author of fiction and nonfiction and an Assistant Professor of Writing at Point Loma Nazarene University. He lives in San Diego with his wife and three children.

Vintage Rejection

Rejection always hurts, but this publisher seems particularly hard to please! This vintage rejection slip is from the Essanay Film Manufacturing Company (1907-1925), who is famous for their production of Charlie Chaplin movies (Photo originally posted on NPR). I'm not sure if my writing, or much modern writing at all for that matter, would pass muster! Which reason for rejection do you find most surprising, amusing, appalling? One of my favorites...see #6 for a good laugh.

But to keep you from getting too discouraged, here are a few excerpts from rejection letters of now beloved and classic works,  from publishers who probably still have their foot stuck in their mouths...

Lord of the Flies by William Golding..."an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull."

The Deer Park by Norman Mailer..."This will set publishing back 25 years."

The Diary of Anne Frank..."The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the 'curiosity' level."

On Writings by Anais Nin..."There is no commercial advantage in acquiring her, and, in my opinion, no artistic."

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame..."an irresponsible holiday story."

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She writes for www.startmarriageright.com and manages Moody Publishers’ blog, www.insidepages.net.

Inspired to Give

Bonnie Ponce challenges those who have not contributed to the Love Relief campaign to read these stories and give to Relief.

As I was browsing through the internet, I came across this website of a company who helps charities raise support with capital campaigns.  I thought I would share this story to inspire you about why we ask you to give.  In the stories, the donors give $15,000 and $35,000 but we are only asking that you consider a gift of $25 or $50 or whatever you are inspired and able to give.  This story is from cdsfunds.com

“If you ever needed affirmation about why we do this for a living, these two tales carry a strong message.”

By: Greg Bowden

Fundraising can become such a mechanical process, in which we focus on rating prospects, writing proposals and scheduling logistics. This is never truer than in the midst of a capital campaign, when the pace of activity must be very high and everyone is focused on the bottom line of the campaign’s financial goal. In these instances, we can lose sight of the fact that we are meeting with real people and challenging them to think about their charitable priorities. Often, those donors take our requests very seriously and make decisions that broaden their philanthropy and demonstrate the impact of successful fundraising.

I am currently conducting a campaign for a YMCA resident and day camp based in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts, which serves predominantly Connecticut, Massachusetts and metropolitan New York. We recently had two solicitations that produced surprising and very touching results. It was a reminder to me that our work allows us to have an impact on the lives of our donors as well as our organizations.

A few months ago we met with a couple who are very involved, charitable residents in the local community. While they had not given to the camp in the past, they were friends of the camp’s director. They agreed to meet with us, and were frankly shocked when we asked them for a pledge of $25,000 over five years. The wife commented that was more than they contribute to their church. The husband suggested they might be able to do something in the neighborhood of $15,000 and they would give it some thought.

When we followed up with them, the husband confirmed that they would pledge $15,000 to the campaign. He went on to say that our request had really stretched them, which had forced them to examine what they could truly do, rather than easily saying yes to a modest request. Their deliberations had further prompted them to take a look at all of their charitable priorities. How much did they contribute overall? If they seriously wanted to make this gift, but had trouble budgeting it, what did that say about their philanthropy? What changes were they able to make in their life that would allow them to meet their charitable goals?

All of these deliberations resulted in a lifestyle change for the couple. When the husband informed us of their decision, he explained that they had decided to sell their new BMW and buy a used Volkswagen, freeing up additional funds to make this pledge possible. As we were running a campaign for a children’s camp, I immediately thought of that saying, “A hundred years from now, it will not matter what kind of car you drove, or what sort of house you lived in, or how big your bank account was. But the world may be better because you were important in the life of a child.”

The second story came from an alumnus of the camp, who now lives in a town in coastal Connecticut. Both his parents were now deceased and, without siblings, it fell to him to sell their home and resolve their estate. He decided that he would put some of the proceeds from the house sale toward certain charitable projects. Despite the fact that he had no idea they were conducting a capital campaign, his first thoughts were of the Camp that had provided him such a significant experience in his childhood. He called the Camp’s executive director—actually calling twice before he got the director on the phone—and told the director that he wanted to make a significant charitable gift.

The donor’s objective was to make a gift to the endowment, the income from which would fund scholarships for less fortunate children to attend Camp. He was considering giving $15,000. The Camp’s executive director pointed out that, in order to maintain the principal in perpetuity that would not generate much income each year. With some polite probing, the Camp’s director was able to learn that the donor’s true intent was to fund four scholarships each year. That would require a gift of about $35,000. Once the Camp’s director was able to communicate what would be necessary to achieve the donor’s goal, the alumnus readily agreed to make the gift.

We do so much work changing the lives of those people who receive our services, it is easy to forget that we are often changing the lives of our donors as well. Helping people raise their sights in these ways is a critical step in their philanthropic lifespan. It will have a leveraged impact far beyond the value of their current gift, as they will apply their new philosophy to all future charitable decisions, as well.

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish. She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University. After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.

Relief News Tuesday: 4.12.2011

Thank You Christopher Fisher

Over the years, Relief has been stewarded by some amazing people, all of whom have served our literary vision as volunteer staff. This journal is a labor of love, and few have given their hearts as Christopher Fisher has, first as a Relief author (and Pushcart nominee), then as our Fiction Editor (there was dancing and woohoo-ing when he accepted the position), and finally as Relief's Editor-in-Chief. Whether as an author or editor, he has been an asset to this journal, so it is with sadness that I must announce his resignation.

In this next season of life, Christopher will be focusing his considerable talent on building his editing consultation business and returning to his own long-neglected creative writing. As much as we hate to see him go, we must admit that the world needs his writing, and we're grateful for the chances we've had to publish his work. His final issue (at least as Relief staff, though hopefully not as a Relief author) will soon be shipping, so make sure you've ordered your copy!

A New Role for Brad Fruhauff

With the position of Editor-in-Chief open, ccPublishing's Board of Directors was quick at work to find a replacement, since we will begin accepting submissions for issue 5.2 in just a few weeks. After careful deliberation, Brad Fruhauff, Relief's Poetry Editor, will be stepping in as interim Editor-in-Chief. Brad will continue his hard work as Poetry Editor, but he has agreed to take on the extra responsibilities until a permanent replacement has been found.

Book Review: Brian Spears' "A Witness in Exile"

By Alan Ackmann

Brian Spears, whose debut book of poetry A Witness in Exile was published earlier this year by Louisiana Literature press, is no stranger to long-time readers of Relief, having won the editor’s choice prize for poetry back in issue 2.2 for his poem “Hall Raising”. Although the poem published in that issue didn’t make the final cut of the book itself, many of its themes are revisited in A Witness in Exile, and handled in a way that Relief readers will probably find sincere and compelling.

Keep reading for the full review!

Though not explicitly divided, A Witness in Exile cleaves into roughly two sections. Poems in the first half of the book, with some exceptions, often focus on the relationship between an individual and an environment. As his biography indicates, Spears has a diverse background, and he presents poems set against the bayous of Louisiana, the swamps of south Florida, the deserts of New Mexico, and the coasts of San Francisco—places that “teeter on knife-edge” (to borrow a line from one of the poems). Sometimes these poems feature people; sometimes they meditate on the locations themselves. A sensation of loss pervades even those works peripheral to this motif, however, and the composite effect is of a writer seeking peace and completeness, in an existence that is wandering and fragmentary. On first read, this makes the book itself seem initially somewhat rambling, filled with poems that are occasionally quite strong—but collectively disjointed.

Unity emerges, though, in the book’s second half, where the poems take on a more consistent poignancy and urgency. Throughout this second half, Spears addresses material centered on his own childhood as a Jehovah’s Witness, a life he subsequently rejected, and he confronts this subject matter clearly, honestly, and un-ostentatiously. There are poems drawing from the religion’s core beliefs and practices, as well as its liturgical rituals and personal struggles. Most moving, though, are the poems that deal with the personal wounds that open when a prior believer walks away from the culture, and in this case the family and home, that raised and loved him.

Admirably, the Jehovah’s Witness poems (if it’s fair to label them as such) never descend into simplicity or caricature, and simultaneously never lambast or criticize. Spears—or, more to the point, the speaker in his poems—understands the beauty of the people who inhabit the lifestyle he is abandoning, and wishes them no harm. Indeed, some of the poems’ strongest moments come when the speaker seems to wish that he could go back to a time when he was unquestioning, to a clear-cut life undiluted by the complexity of doubt, when spiritual boundaries were clear, and—as the speaker freely admits in one poem—he was the happiest he’s ever been.

It is common to read Christian-themed poems about a believer’s doubts, and the trajectory of such poems is usually predictable. Less common, though, are poems about doubting ones atheism, and Spears’s inversion of the conventional tropes is tender and surprising.

When these two halves of the book are taken together, they enhance one another nicely. The first half presents speakers and poems who, at their center, seek a temporary version of the peace at one point possessed and then scorned in the book’s second half. The book seems to keep the reader at arm’s length for the first thirty pages, where its sadnesses are often ill-defined; someone is wandering off in exile, yes, but it’s hard to say from what. In the back thirty pages, however, the speakers are much more precise with their longing, inviting the reader into their intimacies, and this adds new texture to the initial poems. This juxtaposition creates a book that can exist as a completed text, in addition to a collection of isolated works.

It may be tempting to interpret the composite impact of Spears’s work from a purely spiritual vantage—as an account of the emptiness that dominates when Christ is not accepted, for example, or of the limitations of a particular sect of Christianity. Such interpretation, though, would be an oversimplified mistake. A Witness in Exile is the rare book of poetry that succeeds in treating matters of spirituality with tact and subtlety, coaxing a legitimate emotional response through its depiction of a worldview, not a dogma. It is a book not about the comfort of belief, but of the costs and consequences of a specific unbelief—costs that manifest themselves not in the hereafter, but in the sometimes melancholy here and now.

A Witness in Exile is available through www.amazon.com, and through the author’s personal website, www.brianspears.wordpress.com. I highly recommend it.

***

Alan Ackmann was fiction editor for volume two of Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression. He teaches in the writing department at DePaul University. His fiction has appeared in numerous literary journals, including Ontario Review and McSweeney’s, and he recently completed his first novel. His website is www.alanackmann.com.

When Books are Burned

In 1933, in one of the first steps leading to the Holocaust, the Nazi regime ordered that any and all books deemed “subversive” to Hitler’s rule must be burned.  There were book-burnings in the streets, carried out by university students and Nazi supporters, who collected all censored literary works and threw them into the flames.

Surprisingly, among the books sentenced to burning were works by what we now view as classics, works by Helen Keller, Albert Einstein, Jack London, Upton Sinclair, and H.G. Wells.  Philosophical and political works were designated for destruction, but also children’s literature, theatrical works, and stories.

It is something of a wonder that one of the most powerful political movements of its day would feel so threatened by a story.

Perhaps the books were burned because even Nazis knew the insurmountable power of words.  Perhaps they were burned because language is so strong, so potentially dangerous, that the Germans only knew one way to address it: to treat it as an enemy.  Hitler himself attested to the importance of words as he used prophetic voice, persuasive rhetoric, and euphemism as some of his primary weapons for his Nazi cause.

While Hitler exploited language for evil during the Holocaust, other words were uttered, at great personal risk, for the sake of truth.  Dietrich Bonheoffer was one such voice; a Lutheran pastor who actively opposed Hitler, Bonheoffer urged his congregations not to conform to Nazi ideas up until his execution shortly before the end of the war.  Irene Harand, an Austrian human rights activist, wrote a public response to Hitler’s Mein Kampf, or “My Struggle”, which she titled, “His Struggle: An Answer to Hitler”.  Martin Niemoller organized the Confessional Church, a Christian group that resisted the Nazi movement, and avowed in the last sermon before his arrest, “No more are we ready to keep silent at man’s behest when God commands us to speak…”

These voices and many more spoke out against the deafening tide of propaganda, and they were heard.  Helen Keller, whose own books were publicly burned including The Story of My Life, responded to the censorship by saying, “History has taught you nothing if you think you can kill ideas. Tyrants have tried to do that often before, and the ideas have risen up in their might and destroyed them.”

What are your views on censorship? How far do you think the power of words can reach in its influence for good or evil?

Thank you for your Support

I would like to thank everyone who has contributed to the Love Relief Campaign. Thank you for recognizing the work that we do here and for showing us your love. For everyone else I would like ask that you take a moment and consider giving to Relief. A donation of $5, $10, or $20 can go a long way to helping us continue to publish Relief Journal. The economy is rough but if you can afford a latte at Starbucks or to go see a movie, then consider giving up one luxury want and donating to Relief Journal instead. Giving online is safe and easy.  How much are you going to give to Relief today?

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish.  She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University.  After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.

An..ti.ci.paation!

Stephen Swanson

Stephen Swanson delves into the vital quandry of enjoying and hating "anticipation" for its own sake.

In the past few weeks, I've found that the music of Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings particularly inspiring.  It's not just their blend of classical soul and a contemporary mentality.  Nor does the music just grab at my heart and begin to bounce it in the most pleasant way.  Nor, yet, does it merely provide a hopeful outlook while grading student essays that might be less than impressive in their appearance of dedication.

It calls to me to get ready.

"Getting ready" presents a very real meaning for me these days as we expect our second child at any hour, day, or week.  It's not just the excitement and worry of how a second child will affect our lives and the thrill to meet this new person who will come into our family and change who we are.  Something bigger and smaller at the same time lodges in my heart.

In the beginning of the the title track of 2007's 100 Days, 100 Nights, the horns/saxophones begin by quietly spiraling down in the right channel, pause, the drums tap off four times in the left channel, and Jones' powerful voice comes in, "100 Days...100 Nights...to know a man's heart," in both ears.

Not only does the stripped down production work to recall a 50s/60s feel, it also brings to the fore the absences of the other voices.  This awareness of the missing sounds and pauses heighten and balance the parts where the sound is filled with lead vocals, backing, bass, drums, guitars, and horns, forcing the listener to appreciate both the presence and absences even more.

I want to balance this with the ending track of the album, "Answer Me", particularly the version that the Dap Kings released that shows a bit of the recording process. This version amplifies this anticipation because it not only uses Jones' sparse piano intro, but it takes a number of starts to get it right before breaking into the song itself.  The listener/viewer keeps waiting for the song to get grooving, but not quite yet.

When it finally, breaks into the chorus, the words and music combine to give the lyrics some significance that cut to the heart of the meaning and importance of anticipation:

Answer me, sweet Jesus

Won't you hear me calling

I need you, Lord

Answer me, sweet Jesus

Don't you hear me calling

I need you, Lord

The repetition and subtle differences calls for the listener to pay closer attention but to also join in in spite of those differences. The lyrics and music combine both a familiarity and a new-ness that strengthens the associations between singer and listener.  So that when we reach the verse,

Lord, I've run out of words to sing

All I can do is moan

I cannot pray, like all of a sudden

But let me know my prayer's being heard

whether we are religious, spiritual, or not, we have a bond at least with the singer.  There's an association implied by anticipation...a requirement of a relationship of some sort, and we want that fullfillment.

However, we are stuck in the now...the not yet.

Still, as frustrating as this seems, a meaningful expression comes out, and it's expression does not consist of just one, lone voice.  Jones continues singing as she's joined not only by the band but also with a chorus of background singers as they all call out for the thing that is not yet.

She (They) conclude on a definitive:

I'm gonna wait right here for ya.

It's hard to wait.  Patience is hard, especially when so much can be at stake, but I find that Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings not only join me in the release of those emotions but that they also exemplify the nature of humanity's struggle for meaning and value in the process, the tensions between the strange and the familiar, the solo and collective, and the terrestrial and supernatural.

I <3 them and hope that you will too.

Stephen Swanson teaches as an assistant professor of English at McLennan Community College. Aside from guiding students through the pitfalls of college writing and literature, he spends most of his time trying to remain aware of popular culture, cooking, and enjoying time with his wife and son. He holds degrees in Communications (Calvin College), Film Studies (Central Michigan University), and Media and American Culture Studies (Bowling Green State University). In addition to editing a collection, Battleground States: Scholarship in Contemporary America, he has forthcoming projects on Johnny Cash and analysis of vampires and gods in terms of hospitality.

Touching Scars

Taking a break from my thoughts on place, I wanted to write about doubt. Or English muffins.

Or, really, about Thomas.

As one prone to pressing fingers into my own scars, I've always felt a bit connected to the Missouri of disciples. I think it was because he was supposed to be the one we all looked down on (other  than Judas, but I think that goes without saying even as I finish saying it).

But Thomas, he was the one who didn't believe. He had to be shown. Personally, I think he was just the one who put words to what the other disciples who hadn't been there to see the vacant tomb were thinking.

Recently, I started thinking about Thomas as an author (not about him working as an author, but as an author thinking about Thomas as a symbol…got that?)

I think my initial misconceptions about the most famous doubter in the Bible (though not the biggest or most egregious) have led me to seeing him in a new way. He’s what all artists who claim a faith should aspire to.

Thomas wasn't satisfied with intellectual knowledge that Christ was risen. He wanted to press his fingertips into physical evidence of the miracle that still makes people choose love over what their own eyes tell them. He wanted to feel life in the hands he’d seen lifeless. He wanted to get messy to know, definitively, that we can now be clean.

And that’s what our art should be – a reckless engagement with the scars of living so that they can begin to heal.

Earth Day, Good Friday, and Wholeness

This month, we are approaching two national holidays. They happen to fall on the same day. But depending on your political, religious, liberal, conservative, radical, conventional standing, you may lean more towards one than the other, or even feel like you have to choose between the two.

Earth Day was instituted in 1970 by Senator Gaylord Nelson, it was a political initiative, intended to enforce national environmental responsibility, and this new holiday birthed the modern environmental movement. Good Friday is annually observed by Christians to remember Christ’s crucifixion and death so many years ago. To the church, Good Friday, together with Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday, is the culmination of history, fulfilling Scripture’s promises that a Savior would come into the world and redeem it.

This year April 22^nd hosts both Earth Day and Good Friday, and to many people, these holidays may seem to be at odds with each other.  In my experience, Christians are more interested in discipleship than reducing their carbon footprint. Female ministers and abortion can be hot topics, but global warming? Not so much.  Likewise, the people who champion green living march under the banner of sustainability, health, and animal rights. Talk of soul-saving doesn’t really hold appeal, because in their mind, they’re already saving the planet.

It saddens me that anyone would think these two ideals have to be pitted against each other as if in a bull pen. Because in my perspective, both holidays have to do with wholeness. Whole earth, whole redemption, whole life.

Eden was once whole, a perfect earth, perfect creation, and perfect humanity. God called it, “very good.” But sin crept into this good garden and fragmented it, introducing thorns and dry soil, pain and pride—toxic to both our bodies and our souls.

Good Friday marks a turn in our decaying world.   A man who was God sacrificed His life for the world, and this set into action a redemption that would work both backwards and forwards, pulling this broken earth and its broken people into a new heaven and new earth. One day, the effects of sin will be reversed, and the new heaven and earth will reign in renewed wholeness. Christ’s sacrifice on Good Friday set all of this into motion.

Scripture says that creation is in bondage just as are the children of God. “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:22-23).

This April 22^nd, let’s groan and wait together, the earth and God’s children, the created crying out to our Creator.

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She writes for www.startmarriageright.com and manages Moody Publishers’ blog, www.insidepages.net.

An Offering of the Heart

Bonnie Ponce reflects on the book of Nehemiah and how the people sacrificed to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem and how that relates to supporting Relief. Recently our church began to study the book of Nehemiah. Nehemiah is a book about a man, Nehemiah, who sees a need to lead his people to rebuilding the Jerusalem’s wall, which has been destroyed. He brings hope to his people and inspires them to work hard. In chapter 3 of Nehemiah, there is a list of all the people that work on the wall – the important people, servants, nobles, people that work on the wall without the support of others. People from different back grounds work together. Even how much work they do is noted.

“Nehemiah…made repairs as far as a point opposite the tombs of David, and as far as the artificial pool and the house of the mighty men.” Neh. 3:16

“Benjamin and Hasshub carried out repairs in front of their house. After them Azariah the son of Maaseiah, son of Ananiah, carried out repairs beside his house.” Neh. 3:23

Relief inspires people to write, to read, to think, and to build up the Christian community with engaging literature. Relief units people of all beliefs to see Christian literature in a new light – what it can be when it is well written and deals with tough issues. Giving should be an offering of the heart. At Relief, we ask you for your financial support because we have a financial need.

Some people are able to give a lot and some people are only able to give a small gift but the important thing is that everyone sacrificed their time and efforts and did what they were able to do to build the wall in Jerusalem. At Relief we ask that if you support our efforts to bring amazing literature to print then please consider a gift – give what you are able to sacrifice. Our campaign will end on April 15, so listen to your heart and give to Relief!

Each of you should give whatever you have decided. You shouldn't be sorry that you gave or feel forced to give, since God loves a cheerful giver. 2 Corinthians 9:7 (God’s Word translation)

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish. She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University. After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.

Capturing the Journey Different Ways

After my post last month about journaling and blogging, I thought some further discussion might be helpful. There's nothing like an eventful, thought-provoking few weeks to remind me how different chronicling life can look for myself from season to season, let alone for others.

I recall seeing pictures on a friend's blog of her journals, the pages resplendent with doodles, swatches, poetry. This activity can have so many variations. My one-page entry style is rather bland in comparison to many.

But it works for me. Lately I've found myself, almost all of a sudden, on a journey with Eastern Orthodoxy. My journal, writing notebook, and blog have all been called into service as I process what's happening in my heart.

Being my "published" venue, the blog lags in time compared to reality. In a post I try to put things together, condensing and shaping even though it's still a rough form. For instance, the day I decided I really needed to consider joining the Orthodox church my husband goes to, I notebooked and then journaled many details that will never see the light of blog. Yet after I had gained a little distance, the explanation I gave on my site felt more satisfactory, more ready for a larger audience of family and friends. And the comments I received seemed to confirm that my quick work to edit and polish helped strike a genuine chord.

At some point I may produce an essay about this time in my spiritual life. That effort, however, will require much more real work and the openness to art, to contradiction. I hope I will give my experience the fuller attention it might deserve.

I would love to hear accounts of others' journaling styles. Do you jot on napkins? Use your camera to capture meaningful moments? What form does your activity take as you process your significant turns and twists along life's road?

Deanna Hershiser’s essays have appeared in Runner’s World, BackHome Magazine, Relief, and other places. She lives with her husband in Oregon and blogs at deannahershiser.com

Are We Due for a Split in Christianity?

Ian David Philpot, ccPublishing's Web Editor, has been reading about a possible division in the Christian faith and shares his thoughts. Jimmy Spencer, a friend of mine and of Relief, wrote a note on Facebook recently that got picked up on a blog. It was titled The Coming Evangelical Split? Feel free to click on the title to read it, but for those of you who prefer a summation, here you go: Jimmy believes that Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins, is either starting or bringing to light a split between hardcore conservative evangelicals and progressive evangelicals. Jimmy doesn't know if it's good or bad, but he know's it's coming, and it is, in large, thanks to the Rob Bell controversy.

When I read that, I didn't want to believe it at first. Religion feels so global to me. And do people in other countries really care about what some guy in Grand Rapids, MI, is saying about whether Ghandi is in heaven or hell? Would that really cause all of us to pick a side and split?

But Jimmy's a smart guy. If he's sure it's coming, then why I am trying to think he's not right.

Later, I saw Evangelicalism Won't Split, It's Erroding--a response to Jimmy. (I'd sum up, but you can get the basics from the title.) Then I read about a pastor in North Carolina who lost his job after writing something on Facebook in support of Love Wins. No joke.

Historically, the Christian church goes through something big about every 500 years. In Phyllis Tickle's The Great Emergence, she points out events of the past that show a pattern. Going back from present day, there's the Protestant Reformation in 1517 (thanks to Martin Luther, some paper, and a nail), the Great Schism in 1054 (when the Greek Orthodox Church and Roman Catholic Church excommunicated each other), the fall of the Roman Empire in the late sixth century which greatly affected the Roman Catholic Church (aka (basically) the only church back then), and the apostles work in the first century. So there's a decent pattern there. And Tickle believes that we're on the edge of the Great Emergence--a change in the church that will link religion and culture in a way that changes Christianity. (I don't know if I believe it, but she does.)

So, my guess is that Jimmy is predicting that we are nearing, what I will call, the Great Contest--where either love wins or conservative evangelicalism wins, depending on which side you're on.

I, personally, think Jimmy's right. I think we're close to something. I just don't know if it'll be something we notice, or if it will be something that takes a decade to settle before we realize that we're not as close in doctrine with as many denominations as we thought.

Do you think we're nearing a split in Christianity and/or Evangelicalism? Can Christianity stand to take another split or is it too close to obliteration (or marginalization) as it is?

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Jimmy Spencer started Love Without Agenda, a nonprofit organization with a simple yet compelling message: to encourage people to change the world--and themselves--one act of love at a time. Check out lovewithoutagenda.com where you can download a free copy of Jimmy's new book, Love Without Agenda: My Journey Out of Consumer Christianity.

Relief News Tuesday 3.28.2011

Issue 5.1 to Print and Shipping Soon!

You've been waiting patiently, and we've appreciated it. We're very excited about this issue, and we can't wait to start packing them to send to you. If you haven't purchased one yet, you've only got one week to take advantage of the presale price--$11.95 (20% off retail).  Order now >>

LoveRelief Update

We know you love Relief. It's the reason that you're even reading this right now. But if you really love Relief, we'd appreciate it if you helped support us. As a non profit organization, we run off of donations and sales. All donations go right into operating costs. With a full volunteer staff, every dollar put into Relief can be seen either on this website or in our print materials. We've got less than 3 weeks to meet our goal of $1,500, and we still believe it is possible, but only if you make your mind up to click on the "ChipIn" button on the right.

Violence and Grace

In my favorite novels, it seems that the characters come to the moment of illumination only after being confronted with great violence.  When Jane Eyre finds her former home and master have suffered a fire in her absence, the agony of separation inspires her to the realization that she loves Mr. Rochester.  In The Lord of the Flies, it takes the death of a comrade for Ralph to understand that the boys on the island have lost their childhood innocence.  And it is not until author Annie Dillard wrestles with the life-altering plane accident of a small girl (in Holy the Firm) that she sees God’s goodness in a crazy world.

It seems to be human nature to have thick heads that only extreme circumstances can penetrate.  In a state of comfort, we are sometimes too relaxed, too unmindful to learn what our lives actually depend on.  But if our child unexpectedly gets sick, our husband is laid off, or our friend is going through a messy divorce, suddenly our senses are awakened and sharpened in a way that lets us experience life a little clearer.

In the face of violence or tragedy, our daily concerns rearrange themselves according to an eternal reality.  When something goes suddenly wrong, the urgency of the situation mercifully clears away any petty anxieties that once occupied us.  And that is some small grace.  I remember last year driving home from a funeral of a friend I’d known from elementary school, and finding myself suddenly careless about the work I needed to catch up on and the wedding planning I had been stressing over. Instead I wondered whether or not I spent enough time with the people I loved, and then hurried home so I would make it in time for family dinner.

Shauna Niequist, in Cold Tangerines, writes, “You pray for honest, gritty, and tender stories, and then you pray to live through them.” The price of epiphany is often violence, and any prayer beginning with, “God, change me…” is a dangerous one.  Anyone who has ever prayed to know our Father better knows.  But with the violence we are ushered into grace, just as there is grace in the story of the Light of the World who had to suffer death and darkness before mankind could see.

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She writes for www.startmarriageright.com and manages Moody Publishers’ blog, www.insidepages.net.

Those in Hell Can Come to Heaven

Bonnie ponders C. S. Lewis' question of what would happen if people sent to hell could visit heaven. C.S. Lewis’ controversial novella, The Great Divorce, offers a unique view of heaven and hell. In the opening of the story the narrator is standing in line for a bus in Gray Town. It is a dreary place that is perpetually twilight and raining. When the bus comes, it takes them to heaven, a bright and colorful place, totally opposite of Gray Town. The premise is that anyone who wants to stay in heaven can, but they have to speak to a person from their past that they knew on earth.

Three interactions between visitors from Gray Town and residents from heaven are examples Lewis’ social commentary of our culture.

The Apostate and the Spirit After they great each other, they begin to discuss their friendship on earth and their current locations. The Apostate asks, “Do you really think that people are penalized for their honest opinions? Even assuming, for the sake of argument, that those opinions were mistaken.” The Spirit asserts that they followed the academic fads of the times, stating that, “we were afraid of crude salvationism, afraid of a breach with the spirit of the age, afraid of ridicule, afraid (above all) of real spiritual fears and hopes… Having allowed oneself to drift, unresisting, un-praying, accepting every half-conscious solicitation from our desires we reached a point where we no longer believed in the Faith…The beliefs are sincere in the sense that they do occur as psychological events in the man’s mind. If that’s what you mean by sincerity they are sincere, and so were ours. But errors which are sincere in that sense are not innocent.” They continue to talk and the Spirit asks his friend to repent and believe in God, the eternal fact. The Apostate returns to Gray Town unable to repent.

The Man in Sexual Sin There is a man, like a ghost but dark and oily stumbling through Heaven. He carries on his shoulder a red lizard that whispers in his ear. An Angel approaches him and asks him if he would like him to quiet the lizard and the ghost replies that he would. The Angel states that to silence the lizard, he will have to kill him. The lizard’s voice becomes louder as the Angel continues to offer to kill it. He says, “I know there are no real pleasure now, only dreams. But aren’t they better than nothing? And I’ll be so good. I admit I’ve sometimes gone too far in the past but I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll give you nothing but really nice dreams-all sweet and fresh and almost innocent. You might say, quite innocent…” The man agrees to let the Angel kill the lizard and out of it comes a beautiful man restored to his sexuality embodied in the form of a great stallion. He stays in heaven to live as a resident of heaven.

Sarah Smith and the Tragedian A woman from Heaven, whose name was Sarah Smith, comes to meet her husband, whose self pity has split his soul in two. The man is now a dwarf, leading a tragedian, which is the embodiment of his self-pity. Even as his wife meets him, his is upset that she didn’t miss him since their death and separation. His wife asks for his forgiveness for all that happened when they were on earth and asks him to let go of the chain connecting him to his self-pity. Unable to let go, eventually his soul disappears and ceases to exist at all.

These three encounters lead us to ponder some interesting questions about our culture today. In the first one, the Apostate is in Hell because though he had sincere beliefs and opinions they were wrong and he was sent to Hell. Would a loving God send us to Hell just because our opinions are wrong?

In the second case, a man who struggles with sexual sin – be it homosexuality, adultery, pornography etc. be redeemed and stay in heaven?

In the third case the man’s self-pity consumes his soul so that he ceases to exist. Does self pity keep us from living?

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish. She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University. After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.

There’s No Crying in Starbucks!

 

 

This is the fifth in a series of thoughts on how place shapes and is shaped by the stories we tell. The first four can be found here, here, here, and here.

This is a love song about the place where I write, not the places I'm writing about.

I have a bad habit, but it’s a habit nonetheless. I write at Starbucks.

Really, most of my friends think I write there so I’ll “have” to buy some coffee. And while I admit that I may have a (borderline) issue with my love for the Seattle bean, that’s not the main reason I work in the House of the Mermaid. It may, however, be the main reason I have a job that provides a paycheck that allows for said coffee ingestion.

But I actually started writing in the Green Room because I discovered that I compose better when there are people around me and natural ambient noise (that I, of course, drown out by putting my headphones on).

But I tried the monastic-writer-thing. The computer-in-the-closet-thing (hat tip to R. Kelly for teaching us all why it’s bad to end up trapped in a closet). The typewriter-instead-of-computer-thing so I could “feel” the story as an extension of my keystrokes.  I even tried the low-rent-Hemingway-stand-and-deliver-thing, but my knee sucks too much to let me grow that manly a beard.

As a side note, I draw the line at the handwriting-in-the-Moleskine-thing. No yuppie journals for this guy (if for no other reason than my handwriting is so awful – thank you journalism years – that the cost-to-benefit analysis just won’t let me be that much of an affluent nerdy hipster).

Nope, for me, the place to write is Starbucks, with their endless supply of Pike’s Roast, horrible cover versions of songs I used to like, and meetings between wedding photographers and their clients. I have, to date, written two complete novel length manuscripts and am a few hundred pages into the first version of a third, and I would conservatively estimate that in the more than 1200 pages of text in those three projects alone, at least 1,000 were written in this, my other office.

Which brings me to yesterday when I was working on changing a scene in one of my books…it’s an important scene. I killed a kid (in the book, not in the store). It’s a child I worked on creating for more than a few years. And I killed her.

Now, I’m not an overtly emotional guy. But I was a little moved when the final words began migrating from my fingers to the screen. Maybe even a little teary-eyed (though I blame that on the eerie confluence of that scene syncing up with my friend’s cover version of Muse’s “Unintended” – thanks for being such a sweet-voiced beast J. Lynn).

 This is the first time I've ever wondered if writing in public, in Starbucks of all places, is a good idea. I mean, I never know when a scene like that is going to present itself and I sure don’t want to get the whole Coffeehouse Weeper rep. That’s just not the guy I want my kids to have to deny is their father. I give them plenty of other reasons for said denials.

On the other hand, what better market research is there for a writer than resting secure in the knowledge that a scene they created brought them to tears in a coffee shop full of strangers? Unless that author is Glenn Beck, it seems like that says pretty good things about the emotional resonance of the moment.  

Michael Dean Clark is the fiction editor at Relief, as well as an author of fiction and nonfiction and an Assistant Professor of Writing at Point Loma Nazarene University. He lives in San Diego with his wife and three children.

Skulls and Bones and Skeletons

A few years ago I spent a weekend at JPUSA, the community of Christians in Chicago who live together in the old Chelsea Hotel and call themselves “Jesus People.” And during my time there, I saw a lot of skulls.

Skulls adorn the hallways, the door frames, and the forearms of the people who inhabit them.  Five doors down from my room there was an unapologetic mural of a skeleton, squarely behind a baby gate and next to a sign that warned in loud purple Crayola, “Nursing Urijiah! Piz come back. ” All over the community, there were instances of this odd juxtaposition of life and death.

I wondered if the skulls were some kind of talisman, like some cultures have to ward off evil spirits, but when I asked one of the women on staff about their significance, she laughed. “Well,” she said, “People here are kind of obsessed with death.”

She explained to me, “The skulls and skeletons are representative of the knowledge that there’s more.  We anticipate death, in a way, because we are eager for our new bodies and the new life ahead with Christ.  We are living in a dichotomy between this world and the next, and we are very aware of that.”  So there are skulls: a reminder of our mortal decay.  She also told me that people at JPUSA tend to live in the awareness that, in the city, they are surrounded by the living dead.  They are among the spiritually destitute and dying.

I’ve often felt this restlessness, of living in the cracks between Eden and Heaven, which some call the age of the in-between, the already-not-yet of the kingdom.  It can be exasperating: is the kingdom here, or is it to come? Christ has come into our world and has promised victory over sin and death, but we still live under its affects while we wait for His return. And it can make us impatient in the waiting, while we see the world around us in such need of redemption.  We were created for eternal life, to bear divine image and have a face-to-face relationship with our Maker, but sin ruptured this paradise and now we live in the imbalance, caught between what was supposed to be and what is now utterly broken. Even the earth is a victim of this tension, “the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now” (Romans 8:22).  Even the earth and the roots of mountains straddle this gap between the kingdoms.

There is a dichotomy at hand. We are finite beings with eternal life or death at stake. Perhaps the reminder of our mortal frame, whether skulls and bones or just knowing that there is more to come, can lend urgency to our days to live well, to reach out to the dying, and to eagerly await the life ahead.

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She writes for www.startmarriageright.com and manages Moody Publishers’ blog, www.insidepages.net.

Coffee with an Old Friend

Bonnie wonders if Anne of Green Gables has anything to offer readers today. Recently I picked up Anne of Green Gables and I felt as though I went to get coffee with an old friend.  Her story is inspiring and refreshing.  Her constant upbeat attitude and imagination-run-wild made me smile as I remembered my own childhood imaginations and adventures. I feel as though such uplifting stories are harder to find these days.  Surrounded by self-help books and seminars; conferences for people to learn how to become better people and more organized in a weekend.  We are inundated with so much to remind us what we need to become.  Anne Shirley blunders throughout the story, growing up and often learning difficult lessons about love and friendship and romance.  So often we just want to find a quick fix in a self-help book.  How to date, how to be a good friend, finding romance - all these 12 step solutions.  As Montgomery comments, "We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self-denial, anxiety and discouragement."  So I wonder is Montgomery right in saying that self-denial leads to things worth having in life?  Anne of Green Gables was published in 1908 and the times were different from our hectic schedules and I wonder at the relevance of this coming of age story.  As much as it is positive and uplifting I find myself wondering if I should put away my self-help books and take the hard road of life or keep seeking a better solution.

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish. She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University. After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.