In Gennesaret

I haven’t blogged in a couple months. You don’t need to tell me if you noticed that or not. 😊 But now that I’ve called the fact to your attention, you might be wondering why. And that’s a valid question. But I’m not sure I have a good answer. At first, I just got very busy. We had a certification visit at my school, and being on the admin team, that meant I had a lot of responsibilities for the week. Then I was tired after that and gave myself permission to rest up. And then it was “Warrior Week” at school, our equivalent of Homecoming with all the craziness. And then was Thanksgiving with people visiting . . . and I got sick that week and took a while to recover (I was so stinkin’ tired ) . . . and then . . . oh, I don’t know . . . I just didn’t have anything to say. And frankly, that’s a dumb answer because in all honesty, how often do I have anything to say here? I mean, anything of real importance or significance? I’m mainly just dumping my brain onto my keyboard to keep...

I have something to confess: I don’t confess things often enough. And I’m betting you don’t either. I heard a really thought-provoking interview the other day with Jamin Goggin talking about his new book, Pastoral Confessions . They talked about the fact that Protestants really threw the confession baby out with the bathwater when they broke off from Catholicism. Scripture talks all the time about confessing our sins, and even specifically about doing so with our brothers and sisters in Christ. “Confess your sins to each other,” James urges, “and pray for each other, so that you may be healed.” And we SO don’t do that. We’re almost offended at the idea that we should. Forget that it’s clearly biblical teaching. We’re good at picking and choosing and re-interpreting scripture. It’s one of our biggest faults – one that we really need to . . . ahem . . . confess. We have made the Christian faith so very American – that is, so very individualistic . It’s all about me and God. End of ...

Don’t anyone get offended here, but I’m just not a megachurch gal.  I’m not knocking the phenomenon. Well, maybe a bit. But I’m definitely not knocking the people involved in the phenomenon. I have many loved ones in my life whose faith I don’t question one bit who do the megachurch thing. But it’s not for me. It just doesn’t feel right. On so many levels. It’s not just that they create a temptation for Sunday mornings (or afternoons or Saturday evenings) to become showtime -- although they do create that temptation. The fact is, when your service meets in a vast auditorium that seats a thousand, the struggle against the performative is real – whether you do worship in a contemporary style with a band and stage lights and special effects reminiscent of a rock concert or do it in a traditional style with a five-hundred voice choir and thirty-piece orchestra.  But no, the music isn't my main issue. It’s the ease of being anonymous in such a large crowd. Of being nothing more...

Hello. My name is Gwen, and I’m a Match-Match-Match addict. ( Hi, Gwen . . .) It’s a new game I found a week or two ago, and I simply can’t stop playing. It’s ridiculous. It’s a silly, mindless game – find three matching items in a massive pile of junk, over and over, until all the items are gone. I think it appeals to that part of me that enjoys creating order out of chaos. But people, I am spending HOURS playing this silly game. My phone is running out of charge by dinnertime because I’m on it so long. I wake up telling myself I won’t play it today . . . and then it’s, well, I won’t play it until lunchtime . . . and then, well, I’ll only play it until this show is over . . . and then I’ve played it for a couple hours and am still making excuses for why I don’t need to stop quite yet. Even as I’m typing this, part of my brain is thinking I should stop and play a quick game and come back to typing. Yeah, right. I’m thoroughly humbled, my friends. The crazy app has me licked. I sh...

For your amusement and enlightenment (maybe?), I present a transcript of my inner monologue as I prepared to and mowed the lawn last weekend for the first time in five years. (Note: I will bleep or edit the swear words. Just bein’ real with you, folks. God ain’t done with me yet. And if any of my students’ parents are reading, I promise I never swear at school. Remember, this is my inner  monologue.)   Upon waking in bed : Let’s see. The service is at 10 . . . picking up groceries at 12:30 . . . THE LAWN!   (Much groaning and incomprehensible muttering) I’ll call Javie again. No, he can’t do it. I’ll do it this afternoon. No, it’ll be too hot then. I have to do it this morning. But then I’ll have to shower and everything before the service. Nah, I don’t want to mow. I’ll do it Monday. During my prayer time : Lord, comfort the Blyths today . . . keep Austin safe driving home . . . and . . . and . . . FINE! FINE. I’LL MOW THE @&*$# LAWN. (Note: yes, I occasion...

I had never heard of Charlie Kirk before Wednesday night. I still have no real opinion on him because people on the left are just screaming about the horrible things he said and did and people on the right are just screaming about the wonderful things he said and did and I simply don’t have time to do the research to evaluate his actions and beliefs objectively, particularly when I suspect that such research would simply prove to me that he did good stuff and bad stuff just like all the rest of us. The only opinion I have about the man is that he should not have been shot. And the fact that I even need to say that is distressing to say the least. The rhetoric out there about this week’s events is absolutely deplorable. The rhetoric from both sides . The fact that people on the left are saying that he deserved to be killed is deplorable. The fact that people on the right are declaring war on the left is deplorable. I just can’t get over it. I don’t understand when we stopped bein...