The Hyphen House

Around age 15 I got inspired to journal. I don't recall how it happened exactly, but I remember sitting under a tree one afternoon at a summer ballet school, away from home and usually all my creative energy on everything I could find. And after that poem, written on one of the first pages of a journal with pink ballet shoes on the front, I was hooked.

In my parents' house, I have lined an upper shelf with 10+ years of journal books, and the others are crammed into a bookcase in my home. I went through different phases with the kind of books I liked--spiral, lined, unlined. At one point I only wanted the kind that was "night" on one side and "day" on the other. Now I'm into unlined, light weight, and made from sustainable paper.

At one point I read all of them, probably six years ago or so. I catalogued my teenage musings and my twenty-something dreams into all these little books, and they are really quite telling.

I've kept up with the pace for the most part, but somewhere around May of this year I abandoned it altogether. Somehow it felt inauthentic, or redundant, or an inadequate picture of what my life is really like. Since I tend to pick up the pen in an effort to deal with suffering, sometimes my journals read like an account of someone who is constantly afflicted and looking for hope. I am that person sometimes, but I'm also incredibly content right now, and thoroughly enjoying my life. Not to mention, with all the writing I do for school, it felt like a chore.

But last night I opened my unfinished journal and wrote. And it felt really good. I apologized to the pages for my neglect and after a page or so of disclaimers I just let go. I tend to come to forms of epiphany when I journal, or at least make unforeseen connections, and I always find hope is God's unfailing love. In this instance, I was attempting to make sense of something big. And I did find some poetic hope in the pouring out of my words and heart, to pages who won't tell a soul and to a God who always listens and always understands.

Happy International Day of Peace! On September 21, 1981, International Day of Peace was born (only a few months after me). The United Nations conceived this day as a memorial to the end of war worldwide.

IDoP celebrates the movement for political peace. My own journey focuses on spiritual peace, but I find that the two are clearly linked. In the spirit of today, I thought I would share a few thoughts about my political pacifism, since most of my other posts focus more on spiritual issues. For me, the two are inextricably linked. I cannot live a peaceful life without mourning the cost of war even if it does not seem to affect me directly.

I don't support war. I know that can be a problematic statement. It does not mean that I do not support the armed services. I just do not support war as a political policy. I know that the issues are complex, but I do not believe that violence can ever truly end violence. It may be the easiest temporary solution. Certainly wars have been fought for valid reasons, but I do not believe that wars can really bring about peace. I know that most governments would prefer peace to war, but I think that some of them do not do the difficult work that is required in order to "wage peace."

I can't think of a single war that has brought long-term peace. World War II certainly ended some grave atrocities, but it also led directly to the Cold War, which led to many more lost lives all over the world (many of them ironically in ways eerily similar to the Holocaust). We are still reaping the consequences of our militaristic national policies back in the early part of the 20th century. I know the "War on Terror," is more than just an off-shoot of the World Wars, but I think that few people would deny the many connections between them.

For the last eight years, our nation has been waging two wars. There seems to be no real end in sight even though many politicians have promised we are "making progress." How do we measure the "progress" of war? Do we measure it by how many lives are lost, or do we measure it by how "peaceful" Iraq becomes? How can peace come during an eight year war? Even if we do achieve our objectives in Iraq and Afghanistan, objectives that have always been unclear to me at best, do we really believe that we will institute sustainable peaceful governments there. By showing the rest of the world that we use violence to solve our international disputes, don't we teach them that terrorism really is a viable option? War destroys infrastructures, destroys lives, destroys morals, and destroys morale. Aren't these the very conditions that lead to terrorism and more war?

I am a pacifist. That does not mean that I believe that America should back down from evil and oppression. It simply means that I believe we should not use war as a foreign policy. I do not know what the solution to terrorism is or how we can best achieve world peace, but I am sure that the answer is not war.

Conflict... a scary word for many peaceful people. I am a master at conflict avoidance, and I have a bag full of passive aggressive tricks that help me to fight dirty while still looking quite peaceful when I am forced to deal with conflict. As I am pursuing being a more peaceful person, I already know that the area of conflict is going to be one of my biggest challenges.

It kicked off immediately this week. It was not a very personal conflict, and much of it was actually related to things that I read online that I disagree with. For many people, this kind of conflict is easy, but it tends to be the area where I fight dirtiest, where I am least peaceful. The cover of a computer screen emboldens me to attack more brutally and sarcastically than I usually do in person, especially over issues that really do matter to me personally. One of those issues is the whole gender issue. I am an egalitarian, and I feel very strongly about it, but I do not always offer much grace to those who don't see things my way.

Earlier this week, I was reading the Christians for Biblical Equality blog. They had a really interesting post about hyphenated names that I had already read, but I decided I wanted to read it again. I was scrolling through the comments and noticed a few that really annoyed me. One person equated name hyphenation with wives rebelling against their husbands. Another just started blasting egalitarians in general with most of the usual attacks. I started to tense up, but then I noticed that one of the egalitarian members started launching fairly juvenile attacks right back at the second offensive commenter. I paused for a second because her attacks also made me tense up. She made many assumptions about the anonymous commenter that made me very uncomfortable. This was clearly a case of two people fighting dirty. Fortunately, one of the admins posted a long comment in which he addressed both and illustrated how to disagree in a peaceful way. He merely expressed what he did and did not believe in a respectful and intelligent way.

This was an important illustration for me because I was faced with some similar conflicts later in the week. One of them was at work during lunch when I sat down in the middle of a debate about health care. I feel strongly that our health care system needs reform, but I am not sure what is the best way to go about it. I know that my views are somewhere in the middle of the current debate, but I am sadly not informed enough (despite reading articles about it from both sides) to state my views very clearly. In this situation, I realized that listening would be a more fruitful and peaceful way to participate in this debate, and I was participating. Listening is an action, and sometimes it is the only correct action to take during a conflict. I actually learned a lot from my colleagues and walked away with respect for each of them, no matter their opinions on the subject.

I won't really share the details of the other incident except to say that in this case, simply listening silently was not the best course of action. The issue at hand was one that I am very informed about and is very personal to me. The person I disagreed with had said something mostly in jest. Normally, my fear of conflict would tell me to say nothing, but I would hold that joke against the person. That is not real peace, so I decided to share my feelings about it. The result was actually very pleasant. I walked away with a much greater respect for the other person, and I felt good that I had shared how I felt rather than simply holding a grudge about it.

Peace is not an easy black and white way of living. It requires wisdom, and most of all, it requires me to consider my actions prayerfully.

Well, the "tour" part of this journey has come to an end. Now we are in the process of choosing a home. And we are sooooo close! Probably by this time next week we'll know, and we'll let you know.



And here's the tour by numbers:
1 Messianic Jewish
1 Greek Orthodox
3 Episcopal
3 Methodist
1 Mennonite
1 Evangelical Presbyterian
1 Lutheran CMS
1 Vineyard

It seems like I missed one, but it was a great experience overall. We are really glad we did it, and really glad to be at the point where we're ready to commit to a local body once again.

The point of it all was to explore our spiritual identity as a couple, and to experience God in many different modes of worship. We also vowed to be very positive and focus on how God was moving in those churches, rather than focus on the negative and critique each one.

Having spent my spiritual upbringing in mostly non-denominational and Baptist churches, whereas Eric spent his childhood in Catholic and Lutheran churches, and meeting in an "emergent" church, we thought we might have to look hard for something to suit both of us. In a way we did, but we both opened up along the way to new styles and connections to God that we didn't necessarily anticipate.

And what became the number one priority for us (apart, of course, from the centrality of the Gospel) was a multi-racial congregation. For many reasons this is so important in our lives, and in God's racial reconciliation work in general. There are so many breathtakingly beautiful people in the world, and we want to expand our Christian circle beyond the white, middle-class ones we have now. We recognize the cultural needs that more racially homogeneous congregations provide, and don't want to appear judgmental of people who choose those churches. It's simply about where we happen to be called right now.

So stay tuned, the decision is coming soon! Please pray for us and we seek confirmation on this final choice.

Over a year ago, I took a personality profile that told me I was a "peaceful" person. It really had me completely pegged, all of my strengths and weaknesses. Since then, I think I have been coming to terms with the idea. I think that in the past I have been hesitant to embrace my peacefulness because we live in a culture that frankly does not value peace, nor is it seen as a masculine quality. Well, our culture is wrong about a lot of things, and this is yet another one to add to the list. I am a peaceful man. I have always been most at home when I have been at peace, but part of me has always resisted, and far too often I have settled for temporary peacekeeping rather than peacemaking.

Over the last week, I have heard God calling me to peace. The Diversity Club on campus has made "waging peace" their theme for the year, and on Tuesday, they invited me to join them to speak about my visit to the Peace Palace in Den Haag this summer. I felt honored to be there, and their words challenged me to think about my own pursuit of peace. I am at my best when I am at peace. I have learned this about myself, so it really makes sense that I should seek to "wage peace" around me. I am not sure exactly what it will look like yet, and I kicked off the week by posting a sarcastic political remark on my Facebook page (clearly I have some work to do). So this is my challenge, to "wage peace" for this next year.

I started my day today reading in my "Year Bible," and I came across this verse: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." I think those are good words of encouragement for me as I start this new phase of my journey.

My photographer friend Shauna Maness is having a clever contest now called Wall Call. She shot mini-sessions of 13 different folks and posted them on her blog. Now, she's having people vote on their favorite photo. The people with the most votes will get a free session.

If you're in the Bryan/College Station area I really recommend her... She's got such a great eye. She also gives classes on photography to beginners and advanced.

Check her out here!

My vote:

I'm trying to reserve some judgment on this until I see the updated NIV, but right now I'm heartbroken. Zondervan just announced that they will scrap the Today's New International Version (TNIV) of the Bible and undergo a major revision of the NIV due out 2011.

The TNIV is a gender inclusive translation of the Bible that very responsibly uses references to "men and women" and "humankind" and "brothers and sisters" in its text. Any time the original language used inclusive references, they are stated as such. It keeps the male pronoun for God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. The translation was very liberating for Eric and I. It is such a relief to be directly spoken to as a "sister" in the Bible, as it should be, rather than told "Oh, mankind means everybody. You're overreacting."

I'm not overreacting. Language is powerful, so when I get picky about semantics, it's because they carry meaning far beyond the words themselves. If there is "neither male nor female" then we need to be vigilant about making sure our language reflects that equality.

Several years ago I read a book by a woman who was severely abused by her father, and underwent all sorts of victimization from men. She struggled often with the male-dominance of churches. A gender-inclusive Bible was a big step in her restoration. She cried when she read it.

So I pray that the next version of the NIV will seek God on how to lift up our brothers and sisters through this translation. I don't want to have to fight to be included in a Bible that was written for me, too.