"Counter-cultural" does not equal "good."

This editorial is written in response to this article.

Preface: Before you ask, yes I have read The Culturally Savvy Christian.

Disclaimer: This post contains several. . .disclaimers. And questions.

Last month in San Antonio, conservative Christians gathered to honor the best films of the year--that is, the best Christian films. Among the categories honored at the San Antonio Independent Christian Film Festival: best musical score, best biblical family, best anti-abortion film, and best explanation of biblical creation.

Only one of the previously mentioned categories is a joke.

As a side note, the 18-member Arkansan Duggar family performed their own version of “Edelweiss” at the festival. Naturally.

Do I sound cynical? Is the unease I felt listening to this story engendered by my own lack of conviction? My subscription to the worldly values propagated by pagan Hollywood studio executives?

Or am I just fed up with the “counter-cultural phenomenon” of evangelicals disguising bad art with the banner of “Christian”?

Granted, I haven’t seen any of the films honored at the SAICFF (but I have seen these clips of two of the big winners. I don’t think my admittedly premature conclusions are too far from the mark). And who’s to blame conservative Christians for creating an alternative media outlet which accurately reflects their values? Certainly, such initiative should be applauded.

And it should be--if the art being created is good.

I hope I don’t seem unjustly harsh. I guess my resentment for the whole subgenre of Christian marketing stems from the questions it often raises amongst the Jesus-interested-but-intellectually-wary general public:

Does being a Christian mean buying into the Christian industry? Do I have to like these films? These poorly written allegories?* This music? Because, to be perfectly honest--I find most Christian music to be bland, needlessly repetitive, and -- I’m just gonna say it -- depressing.**

Can I be a Christian and still have discerning tastes? Or further still: can I be a Christian and still be...smart?

This NPR story reignited a deeper internal debate I’ve been having with myself recently. Can faith and intellectualism coexist in equal proportions? Does the sharpening of one weaken the other?

Does my inability to find meaning in the 409th repeated refrain of a praise song stem from a lack of pure faith on my part, or just an annoyance with praise songs? (I don’t hate all praise songs. Just...a lot of them).

I hope I’m not alone in fearing that being avowedly “Christian” will somehow neuter the other facets of what I am--a fairly intelligent girl (woman?) with a sometimes (often) wildly inappropriate sense of humor. How to be Christian without losing your “edge”? Is Christianity some factory which produces glass-eyed asexual droids with shaky Southern-pastor voices who actually like Kirk Cameron movies?

Of course not. But letting “Christian” become synonymous with “formulaic,” “cheesy,” or just plain “bad” is only perpetuating that message.

*There are some brilliant, thoughtful Christian thinkers and writers out there. Christian fiction as a whole, however...

**I am no connoisseur of Christian music. I speak from my limited experience with the genre. If anyone has any recommendations for me, I'd be happy to take them.

Perks of Being a "Grown-Up", #1

Calling my fellow teachers by their first names within earshot of students makes me feel like I'm in some secret, exclusive club.

Ah, but I was so much older then...

I'm younger than that now.

~My Back Pages
Bob Dylan

20 years from now, I sure hope so.

An African Adventure of Faith

Well, well, well, Christmas break is upon us. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but after juggling around a million different possibilities and travel dates, Marissa and I are leaving for Kampala tomorrow at 6:30 AM. This is either the coolest or stupidest thing I've ever done. Our preparation is severely lacking, and I am praying that our funds don't run out. But...I am confident that God will provide for us what we need, when we need it. I am praying that He will put the right people in our path to tell us things we need to know, and keep us from people that would do us harm. I'm going to take this opportunity to shamelessly solicit your prayers. Pray that we are safe in some of the more dicey areas we will be, pray that we will have places to stay (as hostel booking hasn't really happened), pray that we can figure out how to get home from Tanzania (getting there is a thousand times easier than getting back), pray that we have enough money. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little stressed right now...but this will be a once in a lifetime adventure! I am hoping I can take this opportunity to just rely on God and see how He provides. And having your prayers behind us as we go would be incredibly comforting as well.

So. That's all for now...maybe for this year. If I don't have computer access, have a merry Christmas and happy New Year! blessings to all, and thank you for your prayers!

Parent Teacher Conferences

...are happening as we speak at Kigali International Community School.

I am meeting with parents all day and saying things like "He's an intelligent, courteous young man" and "I think it's more of a motivation problem than anything else."

How old am I?

Christmas Traditions

Every family has its own unique traditions that add to the magic and wonder of the holiday season.

My family is no different. Every year, shortly after Thanksgiving, we'd go to a special farm and purchase a conically shaped tree, around 6 feet tall. We would then place this tree in the corner of our living room. We would untangle a long string of small lights, and then wrap the lights around the tree. After that, we'd pull out a stash of small, colored spheres and hang them from the limbs of the tree.

Beneath the tree, we would place gifts that we bought for one another, wrapped in shiny paper and elaborate bows. On the mantle above the fireplace, we hung cloth receptacles shaped like enormous socks, each labeled with our names. On Christmas morning, these receptacles would be overflowing with the small gifts that were too difficult to wrap.

Christmas Eve was an exciting time. My sister, brother and I would be brimming with anticipation, anxiously tracking of the progress of the clock. As much as we wanted to stay up just a few more minutes, our parents kept reminding us that we needed to go to bed. Why, may you ask? Every Christmas Eve our house got a special visitor. He was said to be a portly man, elderly, sporting white hair and red suit. He allegedly came down through our chimney with a sack full of presents for the three of us, which he would then artfully arrange on our sofa and chairs. We liked to call him "Santa Claus." To thank him for his troubles, we children would always leave a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the coffee table.

Christmas morning came, and we would be beside ourselves. My parents would always go down ahead of us to check out the spread that ole S.C. had left in his wake. With the three of us at the head of the stairs, my mother would call out, "I think we had a visitor last night!" and we would race down the stairs like they were on fire. We'd round the corner to our living room, and there they were: Santa's gifts. After we had thoroughly exhausted ourselves in opening de-boxing, assembling, and admiring the gifts from Santa, we'd then move on to the gifts under the tree. Furiously, we'd tear apart the wrapping, creating a veritable fortress of crumpled paper.

As noon time rolled around, we'd lie around the on the sofas, buttressed in by our bounty, watching "A Christmas Story" or whatever other Christmas movie happened to be on the television, basking in the afterglow of the morning.

I'll never forget those special Christmas times.

O Magnum Mysterium

Well, friends, it's been awhile. Forgive me. You'll notice I tend to follow a pattern in my blogging life: a month or so of dormancy, followed by a brief storm of creative energy and productivity, and then back to silence. A quick update: since the despondency of my last post, I have traveled to Uganda for Thanksgiving, rafted the Nile, had my very first car accident, become all too familiar with Rwanda's police force and bureaucratic, depressing insurance processes, had my passport stolen (along with all the other contents of my purse), and almost successfully completed my first semester of teaching. That brief outline will have to suffice--for those of you concerned about items 3 and 5, just know that I am fine, all is well, and I lost nothing that can't be replaced.

Anyways. This is a rather cheap return to blog form, but I thought of this song earlier today and had the urge to share it with everyone. It's always been one of my favorite choral songs, and getting the chance to sing it my senior year of college was one of the most transcendent musical experiences I've ever had. The loose translation of the song is this:

O great mystery and admirable [wonderful] sacrament
That animals see the Lord born
Lying in a manger.

Blessed virgin whose viscera [womb]
Were [was] worthy to bear Lord Christ.
Allelujah.

I thought it fitting, considering the season. If you have a beating heart, the minor chord at 2:58 should stop it, momentarily. Hope you enjoy.