To Theo-

I just started taking a class on the gospel of Luke, taught by the, “Alternative Seminary.” Alternative Seminary courses bring the academic “meat” to people who want the feast of meaning found in the scriptures hidden behind the historical and cultural context, yet cannot afford to dine at the high-end institutions where the scholarly appetite is fed. My classmates come from a variety of backgrounds- a mix of oppressors and the oppressed, benefiters of the system and those who suffer under the system, Bible College grads and recovering drug addicts. Most of the people in my class have never read the gospel of Luke, or any book of the New Testament. They approach the scriptures with hungry eyes, curious about Jesus, but well knowledgeable by experience about the social context our “Jesus” found himself in. This brings so many exciting dimensions to the discussion- there is a freedom of questioning that I never found in Bible College. In the semester course I took over Luke at Johnson, I found myself jumping in my chair because we did not dig deep enough into the radical message Jesus has to say about the social, economic system we are a part of. The gospel of Luke is good news to the poor, and even greater news to the rich- there is another way of living! Why did we not address these “hard sayings” like, “turn the other cheek, take no thought for what you are to eat or wear, leave your family behind, LOVE your enemies.” Am I missing something because I thought Jesus said DO what the word says- don’t merely listen to it, discuss it, exegete it, make a sermon out of it…..when the hell did the gospel become just something “that’ll preach!?”

I gained an interesting insight into the context material of Luke last night, particularly WHO it was and is addressed to. We all know that Luke addresses his gospel to Theophilus, his wealthy patron. Yeah, Luke butters him up in the opening statements because he is, after all, the financial moo moo behind the book. This address echoes something Josephus wrote; Luke is repeating the literary form of this time. Whatever the case, Theophilus is obviously someone who is benefiting from the Roman Empire, someone with power, wealth, privilege- WE ARE Theophilus. I benefit from this damn empire everyday, and am usually totally clueless as to how my cheap and easy American lifestyle is not so cheap and easy to those who make it cheap and easy. Does anyone understand what I’m saying? It’s almost like Luke is communicating underneath his brown-nosing rhetoric, “Hey Theo- this gospel stuff is for you to, it’s revolutionary, everything you’d expect it NOT to be. Yeah, it’s for the poor….you know, the poor you are making poorer everyday, but it’s also for you- how you can change your life so that by financial distribution everyone can benefit.” Let’s not forget the Old Testament, where true worship is taking care of the helpless widows and orphans. This same theme is all over Luke’s gospel…..and who is our poor, helpless widow today, and what about all of those orphans?

Are you helping the poor helpless widow when your tax dollars contribute to the funding of “empire militization” and the spread of “democracy” all over Iraq? Those tax dollars are funding the death of thousands of Iraqi children. Here is an excerpt from a book I’m reading, “Other Lands Have Dreams”, that details what is happening to the children in Iraq as the result of our invasion to search for “weapons of mass destruction.”

“In Children’s wards, tiny victims writhe in pain, on blood stained mats, bereft of anesthetics and antibiotics. Thousands of children, poisoned by contaminated water, die from dysentery, cholera, and diarrhea. Others succumb to respiratory infections that become fatal full-body infections. Nine hundred sixty thousand children who are severely malnourished will bear lifelong consequences of stunted growth, brain deficiencies, and disablement. At the hands of U.N/U.S policy makers, childhood in Iraq has, for tens of thousands, become a living hell.”

So, back to church life in America, where patriotism, nationalism, and militarism are easily applauded. I cannot tell you how many church services I’ve been at on Memorial Day where I’ve been asked to stand up, because of my soldier duty, and receive a warm thank you and recognition for my service. There’s also the picture boards we have up front that “Thank Our Troops” who serve. I think I’m pictured on a few…..that’s a scary thought. They might as well frame me next to my buddy Theo.

So these are just some of my thoughts- not a homily or 10 minute sermon nugget. There’s even bigger thoughts on my mind: Logan and I have been doing some God dreaming lately. We want to start a G.I Rights Coffee Shop for soldiers, vets, family members of soldiers and vets, and anyone and everyone else hoping to understand more about these issues. This would be in Hawaii of course, home to over 25,000 active, reserve, and retired soldiers. Maybe of the course of time, encha-Allah, the coffee shop could be duplicated in Indonesia. I’m so freakin’ excited I cannot stop thinking up menu items and coffee drinks in my head. It’s a latte brainstorming right now.

Unconditional Love For The One

"I have been blessed with beauty, I have been blessed and continually pray to be blessed with wonder, I have been blessed with physical strength…..but the one thing I do not yet have but fervently pray for is to be blessed with the ability to love unconditionally….

I want to be able to love a man in such a way that my love for him is not determined by his love for me. I don’t want my love for my man to be determined by how good he makes me feel, poems, flowers, dessert surprises, or “jerseys”…. I want to love him with a love that has no limits, modeled straight from the heart of God. On the days he sends my head soaring in fear and emotions, I want to be able to thank him for sending me to my knees before Jesus; On the days he forgets to call and keeps me up worrying, I want to be able to keep a pure, non-judgmental concern for his business that kept him occupied; On the days he doesn’t meet my expectations, I want to be able to examine myself and the ways I could be failing to meet a Godly expectation for him; On the days he answers phone calls in the middle of a serious conversation in which I cannot find the right words to express my emotions, I want to exercise patience and lovingly forgive him; On the day he decides he’s moving across the country for a remarkable job opportunity, I want to be able to trust his judgment in the decision for the good of our relationship; On the day, and if the day should ever come, that he breaks my heart into a million pieces, I want to be able to say that I still love him, because my love for him has no limits- my love for him is unconditional."

"The Centurion Evangelical"

“He breaks the arms of the peacemaker who speaks of war”

I cried myself to sleep last night
Under the paper cross that hangs on the wall by itself
Where once stood faces and unnamed places
mapped territory of hidden adventures
treasures in heaven

I reached out for a knotty pillow to tuck under my arms
To imitate holding onto Jesus
Who holds onto the named slave laborer that made my pillow
purchased from Wal-mart
Thieves consume

I pulled the silky comforter over my chilled body
From inward hatred of my centurion sin upon that cross
Waiting for my Evangelical Ego to be destroyed
prideful imagination of a glorious biography
moth and rust destroy

I will crawl into the house of God as my brothers and sisters mournfully pass me by. Maybe the man in the white robe will scoop up my disfigured body and carry me for the next mile or so.

I think I have you beat Jabez- my name is warrior.

honest to God confessions from Washington, D.C

I absolutely love the stories of missionaries, old and young martyrs, persecuted theologians, misunderstood reformers, courageous women deprived of rights, and tonight- young peace activists. I have always been encouraged by these stories, yet longing for one to call my own, I have always wanted my own story. Maybe I tried to create a story for myself:

[The curtain unfolds with leading lady, Tracey Harmon, the brave and beautiful soldier for Christ. She enlisted in the United States Military at age 18 seeking adventure to tame her courageous spirit, and, to live out her faith among the secular barbarian whom the church ignores- most “Christians” plug into churches, Tracey plugs into the world of the grunts! Not only does have a “real” background on her resume, she is willing to take the gospel to the third-world barbarian, risking her very life in the entire process. Having traveled to Egypt, Pakistan, Syria, and Indonesia, her heart for “converting Muslims” exceeds the risks, emotional pain, suffering, and fear (after she gets off of the plane). She has the credentials as a “real” Christian, because she comes from a “real” non-Christian background. Oh yes, life for her was so difficult in these circumstances….being labeled as “missionary of the family” and being financially funded to travel all over the world. Having a non-believing brother that is so concerned for environmentalism and social justice issues that he verbally attacks her life’s ambition. Shall we even venture into her life’s atrocities and set backs? A…break up! Emotionally challenging conflict at Bible College! Oh the tragedies! This brave young women has truly stood the test for greatness, her experience in training for combat arms has prepared her for whatever she may encounter on the mission field. Tracey Harmon was made for greatness. CLOSE curtain.]

I think Jesus has a different idea about this life, maybe he has ALWAYS been trying to say something different. He says, if you want to save your life, you will loose it. Was I trying to “save” my life? Or, create an entire world of fantasy…living out and writing exactly what I’d want my biographer to say. God, all I ever wanted to be for you was BIG and known. I wanted fame, and used you as a platform. I’d be lying to say I’m free from that disgusting attitude, because I’m not. When I hear, “you were made to do BIG things for God” I think, “hell yeah…take one look at me and you’ll know of course I was!” Something has been shattered in God's tent of meeting, a place that for now terrifies me to enter into, and it is this very process I will be trying to account in these ramblings.


Now, tonight, I feel like just a face in the crowd, just another girl at a coffee shop tying away on her mac, just another listener at peace conference to the stories of people who HAVE made a difference for peace. What the hell could I possibly do right now? For God, and…for the sake of humanity? I have heard that the first thing is believing we are capable of change…..for it is the thoughts that manifest themselves into behaviors, and behaviors into action. SO…I’ve got to change the way I think, about myself and about life right now- because this is all I’m seeing here in Washington Fucking D.C:

Green is not green; green is red
The sun is not radiant; it is always fading
An M’ & M’ melts into fat; the damn candy stays tone in my hand
Love is not sweet; love is pain
Honeysuckle smells like a weed; not the rebirth of summer
12 casualties is a number; not 12 human lives-

There’s a lot of names on the Vietnam memorial wall, not human lives
The Holocaust pisses me off because there is another Holocaust occurring among Palestinian refugees

Has the machine turned me into a machine? Tonight I heard a testimony from Shane Claiborne at the Sojourners emerging leaders dinner. He told the story of how the community loves and has accepted 2 soldiers: 1 being my boyfriend whom I love to the point of mental exhaustion wrapped in pain and joy; and 2, the story of Jesse. When Jesse was at basic training, he wrestled with the religious conviction of using his weapon, the M16A2 firing rifle. The weapon got heavier and heavier every day, until one day he told his Drill Sergeant he could no longer carry the weight of his rifle. The Drill stopped the marching formation, got straight up in his face, ripped the American flag patch from his uniform and yelled, “A piece of shit like you does NOT deserve to represent this flag!” The Drill made the entire platoon march in circles around him and curse, to the point where Jesse escaped and fled to the highway. A woman picked him up and took care of the A.W.A.L soldier to return home. Jesse was later arrested and discharged from the army- he immediately joined the Simple Way community, the only place of acceptance he found.

That story brought me to tears tonight. Not because of the impact of good Christian lovin' and acceptance, but personal lament over my cold, heartless spirit. I have been in Jesse's shoes, but I didn't listen to the spirit of God and his compassion for people who suffer from violence. I named my weapon "Philly" and treated it like a damn toy. What kind of God-filled spirit person must I be! You see, I'm the one that WOULD pull the trigger on the approaching Iraqi refusing orders from the convoy. I'm the one that WOULD be swept away in the crowd by Hitler's eloquent speech, disallusioned like the rest of them that the war was for the good of the American, oops, I mean German people. I don't feel like a leader, nor even a follower....just a spectator, which is the greatest evil in my mind right now.