I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a cold, snowy winter day. I was off school on mid-winter break, playing upstairs with my brother and a few of my friends. We were a bit bored and suffering a bit of cabin fever, but I assume we were making due by playing with whatever goodies Santa had left us with a few weeks earlier. Then I remember my mom's voice calling up the stairs.

"Hey guys, do you want to go see a movie?"

My friends and I looked at each other, half in anticipation and half in fear.

See, we were Baptists. And not just any Baptists...the church we attended at that time was an old school, suits-on-Sunday, K-J-V-believin' Baptist Church that would put the "fun" in "fundamentalist dogma"...if they didn't believe that fun was sinful. And while the church really had no power over what you could and could not do for the most part, my family was different. Because Dad was a deacon.

Being a Deacon in a fundie church like that (not all fundamentalists are cut from that cloth, thank the Lord) meant that you had to sign a form saying that your family would abide by a certain lifestyle. Unfortunately, the form didn't really tell you how to live or what to do...it was basically a list of things NOT to do. And it was a long list--or at least that's how my child-brain conceived it--but I can still remember a few of the prohibitions:

• No alcohol. Ever. (I'm pretty sure that even NyQuil and Scope were looked upon as giving the Devil a foothold).
• No dancing. (Those verses where the Bible tells us to dance unto the Lord? You must realize, it was a totally different kind of dancing, devoid of sinful things like rhythm, beauty and grace. Even raising your hands in praise during a song was verbotten and bound to get you labeled with the Scarlet C...Charismatic.)
• No rock music of any kind was allowed to be played in the church van. Not even Christian rock. (I remember one kid's parents throwing a fit because we dared to bring a dc talk cassette along on a youth group trip.)
• And, of course, no going to the most sinful place of all...the movie theater.

Now that last prohibition was a bit odd. Because my parents had to sign a form saying neither they nor their children would set foot in a movie theater. Not even for a Disney cartoon. Yet, you were perfectly in the clear owning a VCR and having a membership at the local Blockbuster. And everyone knew that it was okay for responsible adults to rent an R-rated movie every once and again...provided, of course, that they fast-fowarded through the sexy scenes and shut their ears to the foul language (violence, however, was never an issue...don't turn your eyes on to the beautiful act of love or hear a person express things in the language they use in their own environment...but it's perfectly alright to watch Clint Eastwood blow away perps with his Magnum). By the way, I'm fairly certain that when the kids weren't around those fast-forward buttons got little to no use.

So when my mom suggested that we go to a movie, it was a big deal. It was like a clandestine act. We were spies who would have to watch our backs the entire time as we drove to the mall, bought our tickets and crossed the lobby into the darkened theater, hoping no other member of our church picked up our buttery popcorn sent and caught us under the sinful marquee lights.

By the way, the movie we were so secretly crossing enemy lines to see? "Care Bears."

My dad ceased being a Deacon shortly afterward (no, we weren't caught) and not many years after that we started attending another Baptist church that didn't have the same strictures. In fact, at that church, my pastor's sons were able to see "Terminator 2" before I was, although the weird discrepency between the VCR and the theater remained (I was able to watch "Die Hard," "Speed," "The Jerk" and other R-rated movies on VHS but it wasn't until "Die Hard with a Vengeance" and "Crimson Tide" that my father accompanied me to R-rated films in the theater).

So, my stint in a legalistic church wasn't very long. But if you know me at all you know that it probably had some sort of impact on my life

Indeed, I was being called "'Entertainment Tonight" by my friends' parents at the age of 12 and, by age 13, I had a subscription to Premiere (back when it was an actual well-written magazine that dealt in-depth with the art and industry, not the sub-Entertainment Weekly tripe it is online today). I'd loved the movies since age two when my parents took me to a drive-in to see "E.T.," but I'd be lying if I said the prohibition on film had not given the art form a sense of mystery and danger that it may not have had were there not any restrictions on my viewing. Going to the movies was a rare thing and, when we went, I savored every moment. The smell of popcorn in the lobby, the way the beam of light would cut across the cieling and project the film onto the screen. Even as a kid, I had discerning taste about where to go to get a good movie experience...if you wanted the excitement of a big blockbuster, you went to the Star. You stayed away from the Oakland Mall Theater because it was dark and creepy and really lacked the atmosphere of a movie house. And the Main Theater in Royal Oak was my absolute favorite because it lacked the corporatized feel of the Star and had an older, more mysterious, homespun and neighborly charm...like listening to my grandfather spin bedtime stories (the theater is still there and years ago was remodeled and reopened as the Main Art Theater. It's still one of my favorite places to see a movie.)

I bring this story up for a few reasons. One is that it's pretty apparent that, in this case, legalism was a tremendous backfire to the legalists. They wanted to shield me from the perceived evils of cinema and, instead, their rules gave it a sense of mystery and an allure that has affected my hobbies and, in certain cases, my career (I may only write reviews on a freelance basis these days, but I take it as seriously as a career). And it wasn't just the movies. I'm a big fan of loud rock and roll. On very rare occassions, I like to have a drink. And...on even rarer occassions...I've been known to step out onto the dance floor (my hesitancy stems not from any conviction except for the one that tells me I have no rhythm).

And here's the kicker: many of those things that this old church outlawed and demonized are the very things that God has used to show me more of Himself. The music of Bob Dylan, U2, Johnny Cash and others has often been more truthful and direct in dealing with spiritual struggles and issues of faith than the feel-good, happy-all-the-time, "I-Love-Jesus-How-'Bout-You" pablum that's often so popular in Christian circles...I'll take Bob Dylan over David Crowder any day of the week. I've had drinks with friends in intimate, joyful celebrations where our conversation has glorified God even though those words may have carried the scent of wine. And while I personally don't feel the joy of the Lord when I dance (I feel his grace when the song ends) I have watched friends who have been gifted in dance praise Him through rhythm, expression and artistry in an act of worship.

And, of course, there are the movies. While many would try to tell you you can find God in the movies, I'll be the first to disagree with that. God is found in Scripture, He is found in opening our hearts. But I have seen the movies illustrate many of those deep truths to me, provoke me to meditation and even prompt me to worship more often than I can count. I understand the book of Ecclesiastes and the Golden Rule better because I've watched Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day." I've wondered at the miracle of humanity and found myself asking "what is man that you are mindful of him?" through watching Wim Wenders' "Wings of Desire." I've seen legalism decried and grace held high in "Babette's Feast" and even learned to laugh at the tendencies of the flawed family I'm a part of in a movie like "Life of Brian." I've seen a portrayal of a healthy church family in the unlikliest of situations in "Lars and the Real Girl," marveled at the power of love to soothe broken and bleeding hearts in "Punch Drunk Love" and experienced my own inability to be silent before God in watching the documentary "Into Great Silence." The movie that was absolutely off-limits in when I was growing up, Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" sent me out into hours of quiet contemplation and prayer, as Scorsese's masterpiece--even with its deep theological flaws--still proved to be a powerful meditation about Christ's dual nature as fully God and fully man. Heck, I've even learned that if snakes were a problem in the Garden, you don't want to know what problems they'll cause on a plane! (That last one is a joke.)

And yeah, there are movies that I watch that others cannot bring themselves to see. Where I look at a film like "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" and see a commentary on our sex-obsessed society, urging us to champion on the hero who finally waits until marriage to have sex, others see simply a collection of crude jokes. Where I see the films of Judd Apatow and Kevin Smith as being keen social commentary, disarming us with their frank honesty and humor, others see simply R-rated shenanigans and filthy language and refuse to watch. There are those who can't believe I would even see the "Harry Potter" films, let alone read the books. Where I think it's sometimes healthy to pop in a scary movie, others can't bring themselves to let that fear--no-matter how momentary--into their lives. And there are some who simply can't believe that an R-rated movie that isn't about Jesus can be any good at all.

And you know what? I'm cool with that. We all have our convictions. We all have the things that we know push our buttons too far or can cause us no good in our walk with Christ. For the same reason some folks won't touch a glass of wine, some won't set foot into a movie theater. And if that's the way they feel they will best glorify God, then I wholeheartedly support that and won't bring my movies along and will watch what I recommend and laud to them.

The problem with legalism is that it takes debatable issues--movies, drink, rock music--and supposes a position that God has not given. Rather than prompt brothers and sisters to take their enjoyments to the Word and see what is sin, what is debatable and who is the strong/weak brother, it sets up a line that allows no room for questioning, no room for learning, no room for failiure and therefore growth or--more concerningly--grace.

I'll admit--there are movies out there that don't glorify God. Have I been guilty of seeing them? Absolutely. Have I been guilty of enjoying them or even owning them? Yes. I've had to take films out of my DVD collection numerous times and toss them in the trash and I'm sure I'll do it several more times in my life. Just as there are things I will do now that I wouldn't have thought of doing 10 years ago (having a drink or buying a secular cd, for instance) there are things now that I defended and enjoyed that I look at and say "what was I thinking"? And in those moments I have to depend on grace and tht's what allows me to grow in Christ. Do I throw the entire concept of movies out because some of them are objectionable? No; I practice growing in discernment. Do I simply stick to "Christian" films like "Fireproof"--No! Many of the films that have impacted me spiritually are made by non-Christians or (gasp!) atheists, while most "Christian" films focus so much on preaching that they lose sight of glorifying God through excellent artistry and craftsmansip.

We are called to glorify God with all of our heart, soul, strength and mind. Unfortunately, that last one all too often gets short shrift. Legalism is the act of taking something that requires thought (an issue the Bible doesn't specifically thougth) and closing out the door to debate, discrenment and disagreement. It slaps a "thus sayeth the Lord" on something the Lord hasn't saideth much about. In doing so, it robs many of the joy of discovering God-glorifying art forms and experiences that could change their life. But more importantly, it also squelches the thought and dialogue that brings us to awareness of our own sin, struggles and needs for faith and grace. It robs us of the fact to learn for ourselves. It robs us of the dangerous nature of following God and being made more like Him. Because it is dangerous work. We may find that the things we are pursuing may put us in precarious situations. And they may cause us to think thoughts we never anticipated.

But that's quite alright, because grace is waiting and--as anyone who's been a Christian long enough can testify--safety is overrated.

--CW

Today I took some time to clean out my personal e-mail inbox.

This was not the routine effort you might imagine because, to be candid, I hadn't cleaned out my e-mail in nearly five years. And as I was going through the list of things to delete and things to keep, I found myself looking over some old correspondences and struct with a bittersweet feeling.

It was the second time in about a month where I took the time to look over the last five years or so of my life. In October I spent about a week pouring over my old blog entries, which stretched back just as far.

I've come to realize that my life has changed quite a bit over the last half-decade (heck, over the last year...but we'll save that talk for Dec. 31). Five years ago, coming to the end of 2004, I was working as a call center rep for Verizon. I absolutely hated the job with a passion; I still sometimes question how I got myself out of bed each morning...I can remember the alarm going off at 6:00 each morning (I had to be at work by 7) and laying in bed simply dreading the day ahead, filled with mundane phone calls and customers who would scream, cry and usher death threats.

I lived in an apartment at that time with a roommate who was my best friend. My other best friend was a girl who I was nearly inseparable with, although we weren't dating (and yes, if you go back to the anguished entries I comprised when I first started keeping this blog, she was the source of them).

Five years later and life is very, very different. I've switched jobs twice--working, I'm sure you all know, as a reporter for four years and then this past year getting a new job as a writer with a government contractor...actually, if you count the part time jobs I needed to supplement my work as a reporter, there have been many other places of employment. I've moved about four times since this blog and those e-mails were written...to a second apartment with the same roommate, back to my parents' home for two years, out to an apartment in Rochester and now the home I rent in Roseville. I've left the church I was attending in 2004 and I've also returned to that church. I've gained a sister-in-law, a brother-in-law, a niece, a nephew and a shitzhu. I've had dozens of failed dates and false-starts at relationships and now I've reached a place where I'm in love with a woman who I'm crazy about.

I've gone through blog entries before and marveled at how much has changed. But going through the e-mails was different. It was different because I wasn't reading about changed situations but relationships. There were e-mails from people who, at the time, I thought I would be friends with for the rest of my life. Yes, I chuckled when I read flirty e-mails to girls who I don't even remember and I cringed when some of those serious attempts at a relationship went down in flames again before my eyes.

But mostly, the e-mails that affected me were from friends who I loved dearly who, for whatever reason, are no longer in my life (save for their random appearance on Facebook, which I guess counts for keeping in touch these days). There were, of course, casual acquaintances that briefly turned into hang-out friendships that just fizzled. That always happens. But there were the best friends I had who I simply lost either by the simple movement of life or my own stupidity (or, likely, both). My roommate and I exchanged harsh words over a relationship he was in. To this day I regret the way I approached him and mourn the loss of that friendship--yes, I've been told that I did the right thing. But I simply don't think so; maybe I'm just nostalgic and letting that emotion override conviction, but I simply think there was a point where I pushed my beliefs on him too far and lost that friendship. And it kills me.

And then there was my other best friend who I just dropped out of touch with. She got married, had a kid and I just kind of faded away. I'm sure some would say she's to blame for that but I don't think so...my calls and e-mails dropped off just as much as hers did. Be it resentment, discomfort or just the way life goes, that friendship just slipped away and disappeared. Am I mad at her? No. Do I feel guilty? Not really; that's just the way things go. But still, there's a sadness.

And then there are the e-mails that I smile at because I realize that they are from people who I still talk to, laugh with and pray for on a daily basis. Church friends, family and--yes---even my loyal Xanga followers. It's a bit amusing what relationships God chooses to sustain in our lives and which He simply allows to pass on into another season.

But I'm thankful. Because each of those relationships--be they family, friends or romantic ones--left an impact on me and shaped me in some way. I'm not the same because of the people God placed in my life over the years. Be they friends who brought me out of my comfort zone, employers who instilled a confidence in my talents or Godly brothers and sisters who took heart to keep me accountable, I have been blessed to be placed in the midst of wonderful, loving and beautiful people. And if you're reading this and you're one of them, even if we no longer speak, thank you. And to those who still surround me and love me, know that I don't take it lightly...in some way, you're changing me. And hopefully I'm changing you. And whether we're people who will remain in each other's orbit for a lifetime or simply a season, know I am thankful for every minute of it.

--CDubbs

A Season In Your Path

Lyrics by Wayne Watson

 Heard that friends are friends forever
But we don't talk much anymore
I guess that I’ve gone my way
And I guess that you've gone yours
Was kindness too neglected
On my list of deep regret?
In spite of distance unexpected
Can we forgive but not forget?

Sometimes I think about you
Some old memories make me cry
Remembering the good times makes me laugh
But all in all I'm richer
For the happy and the sad
And I’m thankful for a season in your path

I guess God alone deciphers
When people need each other most
Who will be the blessed receiver
And who will be the gracious host
And all a servant here can do
Is unto the Lord avail
Content at times to be the wind
And at times to be the sail

If another winter settles
On your shoulder down the road
Without a thought of what’s behind us
Let me help you pull your load

Sometimes I think about you
Some old memories make me cry
Remembering the good times makes me laugh
But all in all I’m richer
For the happy and the sad
And I'm thankful for a season in your path

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Nothing kills a good word's power quicker than overuse.

There was a time when "awesome" meant something that was truly breathtaking and mind-blowing, and not just anything slack-jawed teenagers were momentarily amused by. "Romance" was a word that described adventure, emotion and intimacy long before it was cheapened and homogenized by a greeting card culture and used to describe cheesy Meg Ryan flicks. I have a sneaking suspicion that the 1980s surfer culture robbed lost the wisdom and profundity of the word "cowabunga" to the ages.

I suspect that American culture has robbed the word "worship" of much of its power, edge and danger.

The American church is in the age of worship. By that, I mean that worship is the "in" thing in today's Christian culture. The worship music market has generated millions, if not billions of dollars for the recording industry and worship leaders like Chris Tomlin and David Crowder enjoy some of the same status as rock stars (well, at least Christian rock stars). Worship music is best described as a few choruses sang with hands raised so as best to generate tingly feelings in your spine (remember to repeat the last line three times!) Many people identify worship services with singing and a 15 minute sermon. When you leave church after a good round of singing and feel that your feet are lifted high off the ground because you had an emotional reaction to the sermon, you remark that "we really worshipped good today" or "the worship was really strong."

Now, I don't mean to cast Chris Tomlin or David Crowder in negative lights. I have no doubt that the two are highly sincere individuals and their music has been a blessing to me at times...while my musical tastes on the artists may differ (I think Tomlin is a phenomenal lyricist but happen to think David Crowder Band is a bit overrated), I doubt don't the intentions these two artists have. Their music glorifies God and I love any time we sing "How Great Is Our God" or "I Will Rise" on Sunday mornings. And I don't want to make people think that I have anything against singing praise songs in church...even if I'm not a hand-raiser and I think it's a tad annoying to repeat the last lines of every song (especially when it goes way to high for me). We are commanded to sing songs of praise to God and I feel that when praise songs are properly used in a service they are a necessary and wonderful way to prepare hearts for the reading and preaching of the word of God.

My issue is that if you think raising your hands and singing some songs is worship or tears running down your cheek during a sermon is what qualifies as "good worship," your view of the act is too weak and too safe.

I think our culture actually has a better grasp of worship than many professing Christians might at times. The best example I can think of is when someone says that another person "worships that band." If I say that someone worships the Beatles, for instance, you can probably get a good idea of what that person is like. It's not just that they sing "Hey Jude" whenever it comes on the radio--to worship the Beatles means that person obsessively studies them, knows insignificant trivia about the band and probably has gotten into heated conversation with those who dare speak bad about the band.

And even that is just a scratching the surface type of worship.

To get a good idea of what might be closer to the idea of worship than our Evangelical, American idea of it, let's use the example of "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." The villains in that movie were sold out worshippers...of course, they were not worshipping the right thing, but their dedication was a bit impressive. They lived away from civilization, dedicated their lives to following their practice and even, when it came time to appease their god, weren't above ripping out a heart or two.

Even as I type that, I realize that's a horrible example

But in a way, it kind of works. That worship is warped, of course...but the dedication and passion behind it are sound. True worship should make outsiders look at us funny. It should make us a bit uncomfortable. It should definitely not always be convenient, inoffensive or even always pleasurable.

When I first started attending Cornerstone, I remember someone talking about worship. I don't know if what they said was an original quote or if they heard it from someone else, but their definition was "all that I am responding to all that God is." And I've always liked that, because it moves it away from being just showing up on a Sunday morning or popping in a CD on the drive to work.

Worship is our response to who God is. It begins not with us, but with God, who has put Himself on display as being holy, just, glorious, righteous, sovereign, loving...the list goes on and on. And as we recognize those attributes, our hearts begin to change. And we must respond.

And yes, one of the first steps of response is to sing songs of praise to God. That's a very important and Biblical part of worship. It's a good, joyous and beautiful part. But it's the easiest step...it requires very little of us, except the self-confidence to sing along with hundreds of others. Admit it...it's easy to sing and raise your hands, especially when it's a song you like (ever just feel that the worship service wasn't strong because they just didn't play the song you liked?). And it's easy to feel moved by the sermon when it's an uplifting sermon of God's grace and love...I find that the tendency is just as strong to just kind of forget it when you have the sermons that kick me in the gut. . . when you're convicted, you don't really feel like "worship was really good."

Because the next response is the life response. The change we need to show upon leaving church. And it's here that our worship is so often very week. Ever since I was a kid I remember hearing the admonition to not be "an angel on Sunday and a devil on Monday." But even though I heard it, sometimes I wonder if it sunk in. Because too often, my conduct six days a week doesn't match the actions and words of Sunday.

Sure, it's easy to obey the "thou shalt nots"--it's the "thou shalts" that I have a problem with. I don't murder and I don't steal. But I'm not necessarilly the best at giving and caring for widows and orphans. I complain. I'm selfish and easily angered and frustrated when things don't go my way.

Those should be easy things to give up and obey. And yet I lack the dedication, passion and conviction to consistently live in accordance with God's will...I'm definitely not a stage where I'd be ripping out hearts for God (were that called for).

And true worship raises eyebrows. When someone idolizes a band or a movie star, we look at them odd. When someone sells their possessions and joins a cult, we ask ourselves what's wrong with them.

Does our worship do that? Does mine? Do I live in such a people way where people think I'm a fool because of what I believe? Do I raise eyebrows because of what I choose not to do? Do people look at me weird because of the way I live out my faith?

Because that's what true worship does. It changes our hearts. It changes our lives. And it should change the way the world looks at us.

More than just a song does.

-Cdubbs