Islam

I am returning to the theme of my Chicago Living World Religions field trip, as the last post was a little pathos-heavy.

After leaving the Baha'i temple, we drove to a very large mosque. It was full of people, and the traffic around it was terrible due to the fact that we approached it during the transition time between two prayer services. We disembarked and were gawked at. The people were primarily Pakistani, and many looked at us. No one said a thing.

One man did talk to us, recognizing our confusion. He was Caucasian, as were the majority of us. Pity. He guided us to leave our shoes in a small room full of shelves, and we sat in the back of a large chairless room as people streamed in continuously throughout the entire service, even up to the final seconds of the final prayer.

The Muslims seemed. . .normal. Despite being sadly racially aloof, it was odd seeing men I could have gone to high school with walking in with an unhurried, long-step stride, one hand in pocket and the other flipping shut the cell phone they had just silenced. They went through the prayer rituals as a group, which was lovely. Then we all sat through a "sermon" that could have been presented in any church I've ever been to, save for the mentions of Muhammad and Arabic words used for specific theological terms. It all felt so. . .not strange.

We filed out and got back on the road, but only after a man with a very nice car and with very poor driving skills ran into our van when stubbornly refusing to back out and get a better angle coming into the adjacent parking spot.

Perhaps there's a metaphor for life in that last episode, but I don't see it yet.

My Father

Thank you all for leaving comments. It really does mean a lot to me. One request, though: please leave me some way to find your blog, so I can return the favor! Some names (like Brooke's) are not links, and thus I cannot find your own page. Thanks, again, to all of you, my dear friends.

Tonight at a Bible study, a guy asked who at the group was a child of missionaries. No hands went up. Preachers, next. One and a half hands went up (she was not dismembered, just indecisive). Elders, a few. Deacons, a WHOLE bunch.

First off, I hope that the order that he used does not betray a hierarchy that many people seem to hold in the importance of those roles. Secondly, I was taken aback for a moment at how many of these very dear and good-hearted people were raised in a house where Jesus was clearly a priority. One guy, Mark, even mentioned how his father was his own biggest encourager, as well as an inspiration to live up to.

My father is not a Christian. He is a wonderful man with such a big heart, but he has never seen the import of "religion," besides being grateful for "what it has done" for other family members.

As soon as I got baptized, I remember how I got to work! I just about wore out my knees asking God to "soften Dad's heart," to "open his eyes/heart/etc.," to "work in him." And I asked Dad to come to church one morning when I was going to read a poem I wrote.

He came, and I daydreamed of his tearful admission that he wanted to be baptized, that he wanted to put his faith in Jesus. And later that night, I couldn't wait and asked him if he wanted to come again the next Sunday.

He told me, with more than a little sadness in his eyes, that it wasn't for him.

But I kept praying.

Now I don't even know if such a prayer is worth the words. I don't think that is how God works, springing into someone's heart and doing all the tidying up and changing without cooperation or even the volition of the man, like Calvinists think.

But I want to pray these words. Because I want God to save my Dad. Because I want him to be in heaven. Because he deserves it more than I could, and yet God would stoop to embrace a mess like me. And, because I am afraid to talk to him and want God to do all the work himself.

Because how could a mess like me show the glory of God?

Taking Steps Forward

I just emailed a lady from Teach Kentucky, which is a lovely program which lets people teach high school courses while TAKING courses toward getting their Master's Degree. It's a busy two-year program, but it would take me home.

I miss home.

I am nervous, because the program usually works in concert with graduates of VERY prestigious universities, like Harvard and Yale. I chose a lady from the University of Louisville to write my questions to, not the people listed from Yale. Although I am confident that my grammar and mechanics were impressively pristine, I worried that they would look down on me for going to school in Arkansas. Heck, I do.

I did not say "heck" in my email.

What I want: to be accepted in the program, to go home, to teach, and to serve. Oh, I can't think of anything I want to do with my life more. I can't think of a better use of this life I've been given.

I can't think of much that frightens me more than this not working out.

Baha'i

I went to Chicago with my Living World Religions class last weekend. It was enlightening, but challenging, to say the least. This seems like as good a place as any to share some thoughts and reactions from the six different religions that we witnessed there. Note that we did not witness TO any of the other faiths, excepting the respect and hopefully love that we expressed toward their adherents.

The first place we went to was a Baha'i temple, the only one in the United States of America. It is a beautiful piece of architecture, planted in the middle of a subdivision. As you walk up to it, the walls are adorned with symbols from several different faiths, representing Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and others (including Zoroastrianism, which surprises me in a way that betrays my subtle bigotry).


We went inside and were warned not to say a word. We sat as two women and a man took turns at the microphone, reading or singing short psalm/hymns. One of them was from the Old Testament Psalms. The service was suddenly over after about ten minutes, and we were herded to a Q&A session.

Our hosts, Jeremy and Samar were pleasant, personable, and cogent. They discussed that their faith is a mixture of the teachings of nine great men, some of them founders of past religions. Baha'i does not replace these old faiths, but rather is the culmination of them.

The strong emphasis on tolerance makes clear why this faith would be considered delivered from God as "THE religion for today." I cannot think of another possible faith that would better match our culture.

Jeremy, our guide, had been a Christian in the past. He said that he found some philosophical questions on the character of God for which he could find no "Christian educators" to answer. So he began to seek elsewhere.

How convicting this is. I am convinced all the more that I must work toward 1 Peter 3:15, being ready to give an answer to those that ask. If I am not ready, others will look until they DO get an answer, even if it isn't the right one.

Oh, to be pluralistic. How much simpler life would be!

Getting There

"October 22, 2007

Mr. Lucas Emery Matthews:

You are approved to receive a BA in Youth & Family Ministry and a BA in Spanish on May 10, 2008 provided you satisfy all requirements by that date."

I got this email today, telling me that I am on-track to graduate in a few months. In May. In seven months.

I don't know how I feel about this.

How Odd.

My ex-girlfriend called me tonight. She apologized and we are going to be friends again.

I told her I feel like Lazarus.

My youth minister and I are friends again.

MJ and I are friends again.

Meghan and I are friends again.

Kacey is my best friend again.

I am surrounded by resurrection.

Thank God.

Maybe I'll get a Livejournal. . .

So, maybe now isn't the best time to start a new blog, haha. I am pretty down today. I have three papers to do in three weeks, and I am terrified. And tired. Already. So perhaps I'll abandon this blog two maudlin posts into it.

My current paper is on Jewish views on free will and determinism. I was going to include Muslim and Hindu views as well but I am running out of room, which is a first in my paper-writing career.

I was going to write about the paper, but I have had enough of that. Instead, I will write of something happy. My youth minister and I are talking again. Again. That is to say, we've had some bumps in our friendship the past few years. But something has changed in me this past year, and I don't want to be bitter toward anyone. A bitter heart is one of the ugliest things I've seen. And one just yelled at me for quite some time last night. I don't want to be like that.

This blog is boring me. I used to be funny. Really, I did.

Try Again! Try Again! The battle cry of the uninspired

This is a new start, of sorts.

I have had a xanga for five? six? years now, and my university has decided to block that site for some reason ("Dating/Personals," which they certainly haven't had a problem with in the past, much less on campus).

I still like to write, and it is nice to have something to look at even when I don't have my notebooks with me.

And this will be good for me. By the slow end of my xanga, all I wrote about was the big thing on my mind: death. My grandfather's death, the death of my relationship with my last girlfriend, and the death of who I thought I was.

There is a sincere hope in my heart that this Blog will host less navel-gazing and self-pity.

So, let's see how it goes, shall we?