Category Archives: community

A Mandy-Festo

Posted on by
5

“We are both applauded and rejected for our ideas. And our juxtaposed minds make it impossible to have simple faith. There’s too much room for questions. We were created to see the world differently. To say the words differently. To paint pictures of inner realities using outer realities. We were made to help bring into light things that are not easily seen. And so, we question our own eyes. And we question the light. And we toss and turn and don’t hold on for long. We are easily distracted and easily swayed. To find something resolute within ourselves is a gift–a rarity. We are certain of the uncertainties, and comfortable with the questions. We are fearful and brave and hard to hold on to.”

Do any of these words speak to who you are?

Life begging for art.

Posted on by
13

We have a saying around the church office that goes something like: Life begging for structure, not structure begging for life.

We use this phrase when we are facing necessary innovation, struggling to come up with structure as we see the craziness of life that comes with, well, people.

But let’s not dig too deeply into that.

The whole point is that I’m also seeing moments where life is begging for art. Where profundity sneaks up on us and can only be properly captured and properly framed through art.

Just a few weeks ago, in response to Gitz’ decline, Jen commented:  ”I dug out my old prayer book from my Anglican days, and let the most beautifully worded prayers speak the grief and longing of my heart. But I have none of my own.”

In that moment, her heart and emotions begged for art.

Moments like those–the great milemarkers of life and death and growth and memory and significance–need art. They need words and images of beauty to help the soul express what is sitting and stirring and rising inside.

I’m realizing how we, as a people of faith, in our stripped down warehouses of contemporary worship, have lost the beauty and transcendence that those true moments of worship deserve.

And our artists are awkwardly worship and wait in the corners of the sanctuaries, hoping to paint murals on the walls.

Thankfully, they are picking up their paintbrushes. Watch the beauty unfold.

What if there were no numbers?

Posted on by
8

I just had a long convo with a friend about social media and its positive and negative consequences.

And she had lots of questions about the relational and social and developmental ramifications of this mode of hyper-controlled semi-anonymous interaction. And the differences between virtual and real relationships. And how to navigate those waters. And I didn’t have all the answers.

And, yes I told her about Gitz’ life and legacy, and the countless people that I’ve virtual-met and real-life-met because of this medium. But, can I be honest? I also used phrases like “not real” and “point systems” and “game” and “winning.”

And I felt like I betrayed all of you in saying those things. Because you are real people and you’re more than a number on my stats page and comment link and twitter profile and facebook page and…….

I think the numbers can ruin it for us. They are there, in all social mediums, and they are impossible to ignore. They are enticing when they climb, and they are disheartening when they drop. And they make us focus on them instead of on the actually people who are on the other side of the screen. They betray us. The numbers simultaneously suck us into a point-system and dehumanize the experience. Everything that can be quantified will be quantified: likes, RTs, comments, clicks, mentions, etc.

But, you know, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if there were no numbers? Seriously. Think about it. What would happen to Blogging and Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and LinkedIn and Youtube and…….?

Would as many people be involved? Would they “play” the social media game? Would I? Would you?

My brain hurts.

It also likes the idea of no numbers.

Real people. Real loss.

Posted on by
39

There are those of us who use social media to keep in digital touch with our friends and family. Yay for that. It’s a great tool.

But others sort of wander (or run headfirst) into “online relationships” with complete strangers. It’s not always creepy, y’all. And people who know me know that I’m in that whole social media world. But they might not know that I talk about y’all at home. That Drew knows some of you readers by name. That you’re a part of my day and my external world.

Last night, I texted Drew to let him know that Gitz is dying.

He knew who I was talking about.

Later, I called Tam. Jenni called me. So many of us bounced in and out of Twitter and essentially had an online wake. Read here.

And some might think us crazy to do all that. But Gitz wouldn’t. Gitz knows that we’re having a collective snot slinging fit now that it’s time for her to leave us.

Gitz got it. Because Gitz knows that the people writing the blogs and the comments and the words in text boxes on the other side of her computer are real people.

For Gitz, social media was her everyday life. It was her link to the world in a life that was otherwise fairly isolated. Her illness did that to her. Her body did that to her.

And instead of curling up and socially dying inside that condo, she reached out in the only way she could. And she touched a lot of lives.

Right now, yesterday’s update sits with 370+ comments. That’s 370+ people, y’all. In one day. We will give her our love in words, say our goodbyes, and these comment boxes will fill again and again. Because, we also know that Gitz is real. And her words are real. And her heart is real. And the impact she had on us was real.

And the loss that this online community is experiencing right now is real. Real tears. Real sadness. Over a real person.

Thank you, Gitz, for being real with us. For being honest. For sharing your bravery and courage and love with us. You are more than I have words for.