my heart is a glorious machine;

I should be writing about the general hobnobbing and adventures that have been going on lately, but I tried and they're so muddled together in my head (quite comfortably, sort of like my bookshelves) that I can't quite figure out which pieces go where and it's too late at night to bother, so I shall just set down some pertinent facts.

I keep meaning to post, but d'you know, the more I procrastinate, the more daunting the post becomes. Things keep on happening -- little things, mostly, but things I feel obligated to write about for my own posterity if not your entertainment. (And I feel both as though I am harried and have too much pressing on me, and that there isn't anything to occupy me at all. I'm restless. And confused, but confusion is pretty much like breathing oxygen anymore.)

Well, the weekend will be busy; Dad's church has got an Easter party tomorrow morning and I am slated to awake at six thirty, which I am not looking forward to (and should probably start working on any minute now; I seem to require an obscene amount of sleep). I'm hoping it goes well, as we're trying to draw some more people, particularly families, to our church, which is currently very small and in need of growth. There will be food (breakfast), and -- I'm singing. Which I am kind of not very prepared for, so. Okay, they're easy songs, and I've mostly got them down, and they're the sort of folk songs that my voice wraps itself around the most easily, but I am nothing if not perpetually nervous and paranoid anyway.

Sunday is Easter. Where did that come from? All of the holidays have been springing up on me unawares this year, and Easter being unusually early does not help. I missed St. Patrick's Day entirely -- it was a Saturday, and I was out and about, as usual, and I didn't even listen to the radio. Or wear green. Or put on Solas, or the Chieftains, or anything. Actually I feel as though I've been missing a lot; days are going by much too quickly and insubstantially, and yet why do I feel that the moments are dragging on? Even spring -- I've been longing for it, and then suddenly -- oh, well, look, birds. Go back to my breakfast.

 Easter is always an awkward holiday for me, as I may or may not have mentioned before, because I never feel like I get it right. I feel like it ought to be sacramental, like it ought to feel important,  like I ought to feel more solemn or at least think about something, but I get up and watch the sunrise, eat a doughnut, put on a pretty dress that's entirely inappropriate for the weather, go to church, have a nice lunch, and then sleep off and on most of the rest of the day, and I think -- where's the reverence? Maybe everyone else is getting it and I'm not. I don't know. So I'm confused all over again every year.

And now I really ought to practice "By the Mark" about forty more times and force myself to sleep. World, why do we run on different clocks?

So. 

In regards to my previous post, which I didn't have enough time to write properly and now have equally little time to explain properly--rather, I have worlds and worlds of time, but little on the computer--I'm not leaving Christianity, or the church. I'm a little sick of the church, though, seeing as I've been hurt by nearly every single one I've been to, including the church that claims to be there for the people who got hurt by the church. I wish I could take a break from it, and then go far enough away that I could find a place that suited me, with pastors I felt I could confide in, but that won't happen until college. I will go to whatever church my parents go to until I move out, because I know fellowship is important, but often I feel as if that's all I'm getting out of my churches. The sermons at our current church are--not often very meaty. Add to that the fact that my thoughts towards the senior pastor are somewhat less than friendly. (Many of the people, however, are wonderful. I don't ever mean to discount them.)

I'm just tired, I think, of all the extra stuff. I wish I could find and practice a sort of pared-down Christianity--one that doesn't have the modern trimmings and trappings that mean nothing--among people who don't see Christianity as a sort of subculture, a sort of conformity; people who don't believe that to be a Christian means to listen to certain kinds of music and read certain kinds of books and watch certain kinds of movies and dress in a certain kind of way. (I'm not talking about modesty, either. I like modesty. But I find it somewhat odd that there seems to be a certain manner of dress among most of the Christians I know--I can't explain it, exactly, but there's a weird sameness to it. The colours always seem to be the same sorts.) 

Sometimes I'm reluctant to tell people that I'm a Christian, not because I'm at all ashamed of what I believe, but because of the connotations the title itself carries. People think of uber-conservatives, religious freaks, the Crusades, Christian media, and they also feel a certain seperation. So, I'm a Christian, you're a Bhuddist, and you're a skate punk. And you're a businessman. Let's all hang out in our corners of the room, eh? I don't believe Christianity is a way of life. Believing in God--the real God, not some composite made of all the bits that interest or please you--is life. It's life, the way it should be. It's a regaining of some of what we were created to be. Matt Slocum said, "We forget how it is supposed to be: we were made for perfection." And then we sinned. Loving and serving God is reaching back towards that perfection; it's the only way to truly be human. And in a way, yes, that would make us different from other people, but it doesn't put us in this other box on the other side of the table. "I've found truth. Maybe someday you will, too."

Does any of this make sense? At all? My father and I had a long conversation about this on Sunday, and he actually agreed with a lot of what I feel. He says I would like the churches in Africa, or Pakistan, or Bangladesh--people are there to love God, to worship Him, and to fellowship and grow with other believers. There isn't the pomp and circumstance and materialism show that many modern American churches feel is required of them. I'm sick of 'worship' bands that get applauded after every song, and play like it's a concert, instead of encouraging the congregation to actually worship God. (I was pleasantly shocked when I visited midenianscholar's church--the worship band was stripped down, and the leader wasn't showing off. He was instructing the congregation on what the songs really meant, how they should fix their minds on God isntead of just the music. It was amazingly refreshing!) I've been growing more and more frustrated with how much show is going on at my church. Last week, we had worship, then a special song, then an over-long movie clip, and then the sermon. Once in a while, a short film clip or a song or a skit is great--it gives you a sort of context. But having such things every week makes me feel as if the church is trying too hard to entertain me. Life isn't all about fun. I like having fun (although my sense of fun is--twisted, seeing as I get insane joy out of sitting around with people discussing weighty topics), but not everything needs to be fun. And just because something isn't fun, that doesn't mean that it's going to be dull. As an example, I feel uncomfortable calling the film Hotel Rwanda, about the 1994 genocide, entertaining. It had me riveted. It was possibly the only film to have me sobbing at the end. It was not dull. But it was not fun. It was, however, important.

If I could create my own church--which would be kind of a mess, because I would make an awful pastor and definitely need someone older and wiser than me instructing us all--I'd put it in a beautiful, wide-open building. I'd have art on the walls--not always specifically Christian art, although some of it would be. The rest would have to do with Creation and joy and beauty--people enjoying themselves, alone or together, or images that symbolise things such as love, or hope, or paintings and photographs of flowers, trees, landscapes, mountains, et cetera. I'd have a lot of windows. That way, when people came in, they'd be struck by beauty, and see the beauty of God through the beauty of His Creation. I wouldn't have a worship band. I might have a guitarist, or a pianist, and a string- or wind- instrumentalist, and a singer. The songs wouldn't be so popular that all the meaning's been choked out of them--they'd be written to be easy enough for ordinary people to understand, but not overly simplistic--songs with actual doctrine in them. The senior pastor would be someone with a great deal of integrity, someone who is a man of prayer, of deep faith--someone who knows what he's talking about. And I don't know. Maybe most people wouldn't want a church like that. Maybe a lot of people would. I just want something that's real. 

Well. I think I've lost track of what I'm saying again. I guess my real thing is this: I wish, in a way, that I had never been a pastor's child. Being involved in the inner workings of the church makes it so that you see all the absolute worst of it. It gets discouraging, especially once you get old enough to understand almost everything that goes on. I think my father makes an incredible minister, but I wish I hadn't had to see all that I have. It's made me a lot more cynical than I would have liked to be, especially at such a young age.