speed limit 25

is it possible for thoughts to fly through my mind at such high speeds that i can only catch glimpses of them as they rush by?

ridley park

i think i "see God" in nature because i never cease to see something new, something beautiful, something to watch, something moving around. i realized this while i was taking a (brief) walk along a creek tonight. watching the mosquitoes jump around in the water is often more entertaining to me than watching tv.

i look up and down the shore and see the glimmer of bugs skittering around in the still water. but then i get distracted by the rippling reflection of the setting sun in the water, which reminds me of the last sunset i watched at the sea of galilee. and then i follow the water downstream with my eyes, watching it gurgle over the smooth algae-covered rocks. my eyes then catch a glimpse of a tree branch hanging out over the creek, creating the perfect kind of cavern for young explorers. it reminds me of swimming in the creek in the mountains when i was little--and how my sister and i loved it so much. and then i see all the shells under my feet and wonder where they came from. and then... you see?

i guess this all goes to say that i understand more about God the longer i sit with it, the more i learn, the more i observe, the more i am awed by what he or she has created.

while painting my nails, i write this

lately it seems like i'm not finding God in corporate worship settings. and at times i find singing in church awkward--everybody stands around, isolated in their little pews, staring at the screen, blindly reading words. it almost looks like a cult, and i often wonder if we've lost the passion behind our worship.

more often i find God all around me: in the grass, in the trees, in the sky, in the ants, in the water, in the breeze, in the dirt. i still see God as the Creator God. i find God in the beauty and order of this natural world. i find God when i lay in the green, green grass and stare up at the clouds. i find God in the simple moments of everyday life.

but as it turns out, i'm not very good about remembering to look for God in everyday life.

this is the beginning of the fruit of my journalling...

i think i'm starting to understand shane claiborne's concept of spiritual masturbation--"feel-good, emotionally charged Christianity that feels good but never really gives birth to anything." i just picked up claiborne's book, at the recommendation of a few good friends, and have been reading and processing for a few days now.

but the concept of spiritual masturbation didn't sink in until i attended my family's church this past sunday (where the theology is as shallow as the conversation): a sermon that encourages church members to "turn to God," "follow Jesus more closely," and "try to make a difference for God this week." the pastor's conclusion was something like this: "it's ok if you don't want to change your actions to reflect Christ because God still loves you... but just try, ok?" follow this by an explosive praise song--"days of elijah," wtf?--and you've got orgasm. everybody goes home feeling better about their "relationship with God" but it doesn't change the way they act with their families or in traffic or how they spend their time or their money.

when did Jesus' gospel become a porn magazine to encourage this spiritual masturbation?

i am so frustrated with american christianity.

june 5: galiliee field study

Again class began this morning in a Roman theatre at the ancient Greco-Roman city of Sepphoris. According to Dr. Wright’s calculations, this city is approximately a few hours walk from both Nazareth and Cana. Dr. Wright speculated that perhaps Joseph and Jesus, as tektons (not so much “carpenters,” but more specialized builders—contractors, perhaps), worked during the week in Sepphoris. The large Roman structures needed skilled laborers, and Joseph and Jesus were within walking distance. It’s exciting to me to speculate about Jesus’ daily life; for me, this brings out his humanity, which is so often ignored. At Sepphoris, there was also a large detailed mosaic on the floor of some wealthy man’s triclinium (dining room). And hey, it even included a portrait of the Israeli Mona Lisa—pretty impressive, I’d say.

The next stop also featured mosaics, though this time they were located on the floor of a synagogue. Not a big deal, until you consider that the mosaic consisted of zodiac symbols, portraits of women, and graven images… oh my! I’m not sure what this means in terms of that particular community—I don’t think anyone does—but it sure confuses me.

We stopped for lunch and siesta at some beautiful blue-green natural pools, but I decided not to swim, and instead spent the few hours discussing the Church, theology, and social justice (among other issues) with Dr. and Mrs. Yeatts and Christa. The rest (and the cool breeze) were thoroughly appreciated.

Last stop before returning to home base at JUC: the Beth Shean / Scythopolis site. Beth Shean is an Old Testament tel, partially excavated, and Sycthopolis is a New Testament city built at the base of the Old Testament tel. The weather at this point was hot and sticky, and it was late in the afternoon. One thing I found interesting here is that after an earthquake knocked down many of the city’s numerous columns, the citizens simply built around them, using fallen columns as walls and perhaps benches.

june 3: galilee field study

None of today’s sites were entirely exciting to me—by that I mean that they did not have immediate biblical context. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never heard of them before, and this severely impacted my attention span. For instance, our first stop was at Hazor, and all I can remember discussing is the typical 4-room house and the Solomonic 6-chamber gate.

The next site we visited was located in Dan, north of the Sea of Galilee. The walk up to the tel was actually quite nice: full of trees, along the stream (which came from the largest spring in the country). I felt like I was at home in Pennsylvania, hiking along the path at a local natural park of some sort. Eventually we arrived at the tel, and Dr. Wright commented about the oldest intact arch made of mud brick. I, however, was distracted by Mount Hermon in the distance, looming in the distance. The mountains we had seen the previous days I would not even consider to be mountains, but rather large hills. However, Mount Hermon certainly appeared tall and striking in the distance from this vantage point. On the way back to the parking area for lunch, we took a route that led towards “Paradise,” or so the signpost told us.

After lunch, we stopped at Caesarea Philippi and Pan’s temple, about which we received a brief introduction. I’m not sure that I understood the site, but the carvings in the rock face were impressive. We then took a hike to a waterfall on the Mt. Hermon spring. The hike itself was enjoyable—along a shaded path, beside the stream. Finally, after having been able to hear the rushing of the waterfall for a few hundred yards, we approached the falls. The mist coming off the water felt good on our hot and sweaty faces, and the deep colors were such a stark contrast from the dry, dusty browns and tans we’re used to. Again I was reminded of Psalm 42: “Deep calls out to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have washed over me.” And just a few moments later, a fellow student was reciting these lines.

The last stop for the day was some sort of military base that overlooks Lebanon, Syria, and Israel, all from the same high point. I was not so interested in the history or the military actions here, but instead in the behavior of the young army boys in front of us, patrolling the hilltop.