passionately pensive

when kids hurt 3

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 23:15:00 +0000

You can read the newest edition of my thoughts on When Kids Hurt here.

I don't know about you, but when I feel lonely and stressed, I make bad decisions, am a terrible driver, and usually try to compensate for these feelings with chocolate and treadmill abuse (on a rotating basis). Youth have underdeveloped coping skills. Their solution to loneliness is that which is provided for them in the media: sex and attention.

sometimes, i write to myself.

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 20:24:00 +0000

I write a weekly message to the leaders in our Sunday School program at church. It connects to the weekly theme and story. More often than not, I write it to myself. I write it to pick my melted self off of the floor and to tell myself that there is greater, deeper, better hope.

Here's this week's, based on Joshua 3:1-4:24 where the Israelites cross the Jordan River into Canaan:

Thanksgiving is a verb, an action, a movement. It’s more than a day. Certainly, we get together and partake in whatever family or friends traditions we have. Some eat Chinese food, some watch 2948 hours of football, some have pie making competitions (I’m coming to your house). Yet, at the core, our activities are centered on things that we are thankful for. This can be difficult at the end of a year filled with lost jobs, sick friends, lost sanity, and a whole lot of rain that just seems to aggravate the malaise.
Our young people aren’t oblivious to these troubles. They know when the adults in their life are hurting. They know when we are wandering around in a proverbial desert waiting for God to show us the river to cross. God acted mightily in the lives of Joshua and the Israelites. He dammed up a river and they walked across. Finally, their wandering was coming to a miraculous end. Tomorrow, when we wake up, this life will not change. And yet our response can change. We can look forward in life at the malaise and see the miraculous promise in the end. We can see forgiveness, healing and meaning in Christ. Our joy is independent of our sorrow and circumstance. For that we give thanks and build our 12 stone altars.

me rayo: nuanced sense of humor required for reading

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 18:19:00 +0000

I'm not sure what it is, but every time someone talks about social media on a social media device/tool/network I giggle (meta-references crack me up because I am a dork). And I gag.

There is an expression in Spanish: rayarse.* It means to draw lines on one's self or to be so bored out of your mind that there is nothing left to do than draw lines on yourself. Or to be so egomanical that you are staring at your navel for fun. Or to plain go crazy.

That's what talking about twitter on twitter does for me. And blogging. And facebook. Me rayo.

I think the only thing worse than self-conscious meta-referencing is name dropping, which is kind of what social media is about. Which is probably why it makes me gag and want to become a Luddite.

And that is why this post ends here. Me rayo.

*Last I heard it was in Spain. Ten years ago. It may have been exclusively used by my six friends. I've never heard anyone else use it, but I haven't been paying attention either. Google translator says it means streaking. This totally cracks me up because maturity is my strong suit.

nightmared

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 18:42:00 +0000

You wake wanting to scream, but somehow you don't.

You lay in silence, a bit awed at the exhaustion from running through unknown European back alleys.

You stare blankly, upwardly, afraid that the person you grieved has actually passed.

You toss, scanning quickly the darker corners of your room, ensuring that the blackened silhouette is just a lamp.

And then you wait for the nightmare to become real or to reveal itself as less than. Sometimes wide-eyed. Sometimes in dreams.

the birthday dance

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 22:05:00 +0000

I've mentioned salsa dancing here before and I suppose it is only fair that eventually I should post a video of said dancing. It is four and a half minutes of great facial expressions, silly "flamenco fingers," and a moment at the end when I fall off of the screen. You can fast forward to that part (around the 4:00 mark) without hurting my feelings a bit.

This is what is known as the birthday dance. I was nauseous for about thirty minutes after it was over. You can see why from the start.

MVI 1475 from alaina kleinbeck on Vimeo.

girls and chocolate chips. theory confirmed.

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 19:53:00 +0000

Don't get between a girl and her chocolate chips:

when you get full-on sick on a youth event and would rather die than lift a finger

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:44:00 +0000

This summer, I became terribly ill while on a youth servant event. The whole nine yards: Fever. Cough. Nose running at a sprinting pace. It was a glorious reenactment of every NyQuil commercial ever made.

My first instinct at the sight of the 100.2 degree fever (low, but still alarming in the HOLY GUACA I'M SICK kind of way) was HOLY GUACA I'M SICK. PANIC. This was absurd, you can't really panic appropriately when you feel like opening up your sinus system with a wrecking ball without anesthetics just so that you can feel something again.

I texted my trusty coworker a PANIC I'M SIIIIIICCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK message. He reminded me that PANIC was stupid and idiotic in kinder, gentler words and that I'd already prepared for this.

I have? Oh yeah, I have.

About three years ago, my grandma had a stroke in the middle of a youth retreat and I was a wreck. I couldn't function because I was so distracted by wanting to be with my family. I left the retreat to be with my family. It was the right thing to do and I was able to do it because I had leaders there, equipped and ready to rumble at a moment's notice. Since that awful experience of leaving a retreat to be with my family, I have always prepared my leaders to be ready to lead should I fall ill--mentally, physically, or otherwise.

Here's how I prepare them:

Appoint a leader. In conversations with my leaders, I seek out someone to be the team leader if I become unable. This person has no special responsibilities in normal circumstances. They are the Vice President of the trip. I meet with them beforehand to go over all of the special contract, medical, transportation, blahdibbityblah information. The team knows that this person will make all final calls in my absence.
Organize your stuff. I have a box that has copies of everything: Med forms, contracts, bible study guides, pizzeria phone numbers. Everything is filed and marked. Bozo the Clown could find out how much pizza to order, what kind and at what time.
Teach your team. I meet with my leaders and tell them everything about the bible studies and campfire worships. They know what I am going to say and when. They hear it from me, they have my notes, my guide, my sidenotes. They know the heart of what we are studying and are equipped to lead it.
Be okay. Be okay with not being in charge. Be okay with the kids laughing about the bad guitar-playing at campfire. Be okay with not getting to canoe and clean up the lake. Be okay with knowing where you need to be (in bed or with your family). Be okay with letting your youth bring you tylenol and bottles of water. Be okay with yelling at them to wash their hands at a pipsqueak tone. Be okay with it. You can't change it and there's a lesson in giving up control in there somewhere.

Here endeth our youth ministry lesson of the day.

Tomorrow: back to nonsensical rambling!

rules by which all must abide. or the world just might collapse and it will be all your fault.

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 20:35:00 +0000

In bible study last night, we had a good laugh about the behavioral rules that we create to make sense of the world. These sorts of rules tend to become unspoken and ridiculously cumbersome expectations for the behavior of others. Frankly, there's a humorous amount of absurdity in the rules we create for others.

Here are a few that I have observed in myself or that friends have shared as theirs:

Don't cut me off on the highway. Or cruise in the left lane. Because that is dangerous. And I will ride up on your big booty bumper like a smooth criminal until you stop. Jerk.
Don't bounce around in front of me at a standing room only concert. How dare you enjoy music through movement.
Don't breathe loudly. No one wants to know that you are alive and breathing.
Don't behave irrationally. Don't think irrationally. Don't talk while feeling irrational. Don't ever be irrational around me. I don't care if it's irrational to expect it. Don't do it.
Don't make rules about what other people can or cannot do.

What would you add to the list?

the power of the ask

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:29:00 +0000

I am a terrible "asker."

I don't like to ask people to help. Especially out of the blue. Especially at church(work). Especially over the phone.

I hate it so much I will procrastinate to the point of tears. I have daymares about terrible phone calls.

Oddly, when I do finally ask, I've found lately that I am rarely turned down. People like to be asked to contribute to projects where meaning and significance is being created.

The point: I need to get over myself.

crumbling empires

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 23:06:00 +0000

We built our castles from plastic blocks and pegging board.
We'd hoped they'd last forever.

There's little hope of foreverdays,
crumbled blocks: they lay.

No stones
No patch work
No words

Don't tell me things will be okay.
They won't and then they won't
And then they never will.

Wreckage remains.

There isn't hope
unless you've learned
the empire doesn't matter.

wanting deeply

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 18:39:00 +0000

I want deeply to tell you about the things on my mind. My agony over what to do with my brain for a living. The burns of long-planted pain. The creeping suspicions I have about this and that.

But at the end of the day, I close my eyes. Those stories unwritten. The plans not made.

And that's mediocrity.

soup: from scratch

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 23:52:00 +0000

One thing on my life list is to learn how to make as many soups as possible from scratch.

I'm a decent cook, but I'm generally afraid of whole chickens, dried beans, and ingredients that I can't find easily in the store. (Did you know that pearled barley is on the top shelf in the SOUP SECTION? Because I thought it would be with the grains. Or the rice. Or the beans. Or the weird organicky bulk items.)

Anyway, I tackled homemade minestrone soup from scratch using dried beans yesterday using this recipe.

If you want to come over for soup, there's about two gallons of it at my house right now. Next time, halvsies. Also, more hot sauce. And tomato.

It was really cheap to make especially when you consider that I will be eating off of it for the next month.

now reading: a google document

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 23:49:00 +0000

About two months ago, I decided I didn't have enough lists in my life and I created a document of books that I'd read this year, books I am currently reading, books I want to read, and books that I want to buy so that I will guilt myself into reading them.

Here's what it looks like today, though I am not entirely sure that the finished reads list is comprehensive. I think I've forgotten a few trashy forgettables. What should I add?

Now Reading

The Forgotten Ways
Cuisines of the Axis of Evil
Don Miller's newest
Olive Kitteridge

Up Next

Culture Making
Seven Storey Mountain
Proust was a Neuroscientist
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Wounded Healer
The Next Evangelicalism
UnChristian
The Myth of a Christian Nation

Need to Get

Bird by Bird
Culture Theory
Stanley Hauerwas--Resident Aliens

Finished Reading

~~The Last Lecture~~
~~Letters from a Skeptic~~
~~The Blue Parakeet~~
~~When Kids Hurt~~
~~Surprised by Hope~~
~~Sustainable Youth Ministry~~
~~Love is an Orientation~~
~~Traveling Mercies~~
~~The Unaccustomed Earth~~
~~The Book Thief~~
~~The Godfather~~
~~Youth Ministry 3.0~~
~~The Maytrees~~
~~Spiritual Development~~
~~The great emergence~~
~~twilight~~
~~angry conversations with god~~
~~jesus for president~~
~~jesus wants to save christians~~

and then a bottle of hot sauce fell on my head

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:53:00 +0000

Things fall apart in threes. It's some sanctified rule of thumb that this must happen.

The double computer death on Sunday is going to be categorized as thing one.

Realizing that my visual voicemail on my phone has not been working for a month, that I hadn't received any voicemail messages for a month, that over 40 messages have been gathering dust for over a month is thing two.

So what about thing three? I superstitiously have decided that was when a bottle of hot sauce fell on my head and then broke a bowl because I need thing three to be insignificant.

perspective

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:21:00 +0000

Sunday was diabolic. I don't say that lightly. Both of my computers crashed. My work computer in the morning. My home computer in the late hours of the evening. (Yes, I have two computers. It is extravagant and silly and absurd. I already know that.) The irony, the cataclysm of both crashes at the start of important conversation, encouragement, and proclamation of the Gospel can surely be interpreted many ways, but I think, I am truly convinced, it was a very lame attempt by the evil one to bury me in self-pitying woe, absurd busyness, and egotistical frustration.

Computers, cars, and people die.

As I write, my colleague in the Word is burying a friend, a man whose life has served the church, a man who gave more in his retirement from his professional field than many of those who are paid to serve.

Computers, cars, and people die.

Computers and cars bear no significance in my life. Sure, losing information, functionality, ease of transport, and funds is inconvenient and irritating. But that's it. Life is filled with general inconveniences and irritations. Have you visited a big box store parking lot lately? Those things epitomize the irritating side of life. I cannot complain about irritation when there are larger wounds to mend.

The temporary suspension of the blessing of technology cannot distract me from the reality that I have work to do. I have a hope that changes me, compels me, grounds me. It is a hope that heals and cares and sets aside the burn of irritation and self for the bigger picture.

Computers, cars, and people die.

As my fellow servant is buried in the ground this cold and brutal fall day, I am reminded that he will not be stripped for parts like a dead computer or car, but his brokenness will be made new. His scratches and bumps will be healed. His broken heart will be replaced. Love will course his veins.

trying to breath deeply: heart on sleeve

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 18:48:00 +0000

Tomorrow, a group of people are gathering here in St. Louis to talk about the Church, our church, and our congregations. The unifying element for all of us is a deep concern about the mission of the church, or lack thereof.

--

I'm reading The Forgotten Ways by Alan Hirsch (okay, I have been since sometime this summer, but it just got bumped to the priority list). He makes a compelling case against much of western Christianity's institutional practice. As I am reading, I am scared.

--

I know something must change in the way we do "church." And though I've known this for some time, the intersection of this coming gathering, reading this book, and so many other things heighten the urgency I feel.

The fear I feel, I believe, is healthy. Much of my livelihood, education, training, is built around the institutional church. And it must change. For the kingdom. For others to know that I am not bullshitting this faith in Christ business. For others how have not yet been told that there is hope.

Change is scary, angering. I'm coming to terms with the reality that I am going to make someone angry. They are going to say hurtful things. And I will have to keep moving forward. Not out of my own righteousness, but in the conviction that when Christ told me (you, us) to go, he didn't mean write a check and say a silent prayer.

--

I'm breathly deeply. Or trying.

to the long-forgotten ever-present

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 19:51:00 +0000

To the long-forgotten ever-present,

I want to tell you that I'm leaving this behind me. That I'm moving on and moving up. That everything is going to be just alright.

But alas, time has shown that it isn't.

I can't get a handle on the mess in my mind or in my room or in the cabinet underneath the sink.
I can't get a handle on who I am or who I want to be.

I don't know who my friends are, who I can be happy around, who I can trust with the fact that I don't know if I like these people.

I don't know what to do with the words in my mind most days and so I bottle them up. Too dangerous for the people I sweat for. Too boring for my own eyes.

I could create a thousand dance metaphors but really it boils down to that fact that learning to dance has created the biggest culture gap in my life since moving away to live in the thick of another culture.

Starting every line with "I" further proves the inanity that I feel. I wish I had something better to tell you, something to say. But I've been living in a windowless cave for some years now and I've lost the view that made things tick.

Life has become unsustainable.
This has become unsustainable.

And yet, I keep coming back to it.

no, i'm not dead, nor back, just compelled.

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 20:10:00 +0000

I am invested in a number of projects. Too many projects. But most passionately, I am partnering with several dear friends to gather church leaders in the LCMS (Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod) for a conversation on the gospel and mission. We're calling this conversation, gathering, summit, group, (OTHER POSTMODERN WORDS FOR ORGANIZATION GO HERE) Regeneration.

You can read more about Regeneration here.

In the weeks building up to our summit, the planning group will be posting a series of short articles on our values. I have been writing all afternoon, words swirling around my fingertips, and I feel compelled to share this with any bloke with attention span enough to make it through 290 words.

--

Value: We believe the church advances the gospel when saints partner in a spirit of selfless unity.

Aren’t you tired of hearing what this church is doing and what that church is doing?

I am. I’m tired of demagogue worship. Sure, Pastor X is great, but my pastor is doing God’s work just as diligently. I’m tired of hearing how this publishing house sucks and this conference is so much better than the other. Blah.

Does anyone care anymore? Should we care anymore? Those conversations aren’t furthering the gospel. They aren’t sharing Christ. They are promoting egoism and narcissism and lots of other negative –isms that Jesus smacked down in the Beatitudes in his ever-so-subtle manner (as seen in Matthew 5: 3-5).

We don’t believe in the sort of ministerial training that promotes the thoughts of the expert over the conversation, needs, and concerns of the masses. We want the skilled, the expert, and the knowledgeable hand-in-hand with the rest of the schmucks (Ahem, me. Not you.) .

We believe that the Church is best resourced in a spirit of humility. We believe that each person has the profound experience and knowledge to contribute incalculably to every conversation. We believe that the body of Christ is best when every part is allowed to excel at its intended role. We believe that the church is a gospel community, a place where each person experiences the love of Christ and is empowered to transform lives, one's own and others, accordingly.

We believe that as the people of the gospel, we are called to set aside ourselves, our ego needs, our personal soapboxes for the glory of God and His Kingdom. When we partner with one another, valuing uniqueness in God’s creation, we can expansively touch physically and spiritually barren lives with the love Christ first gave us.

Now, back to that silence.

Oh, you can read my resource reviews at thEsource.

Now, silence. FOR REALS PEOPLE.

shhh.

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 21:49:00 +0000

While running on a treadmill, listening to what was surely a raunchy pop song, staring at news images of people protesting for their rights, I decided things have been a little too absurd lately.

Words only seem to confuse and pressure me when things seem absurd. And so I'm closing up shop around here.

For now. A long now.

garnering dirty looks everywhere

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 19:34:00 +0000

I get dirty looks, cyber or actual, often when I brush off the latest media scare as just a fenzy to be ignored for all intents and purposes. When pastors and the like flew into a frenzy over sexting a few months ago, I nodded my head and said, "Yeah, and?"

I see things quite simply: we live in a broken world. It is no more broken in 2009 than it was in 1624 or that it will be in 2391. Our relationships to each other are broken. Our image of God is muddled. We have poor understandings of needs and wants, love and sex, celebrating and flaunting. Because of our broken condition, we must expect that sin will find inventive ways to seep into our lives, the lives of teenagers, and of course the lives of men who live in their mother's basement.

It isn't that I don't care about the sin. Rather, I believe that we often hammer too heavily on the expression of the sin and avoid quite deftly the root cause of the behavior. Our reactionary behavior does little to create wholeness in the lives of the broken, only mounts to the list of things that we are against.

Perhaps my flippancy isn't the answer. But neither is reactionary hysteria.

some advice to those who like a good internet fight

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 15:22:00 +0000

The number one way to stop a thoughtful conversation is the insult your conversation partner, their choice in reading material, their friends, or their thoughts. Insults are a show-stopper. It only gets ugly after insults.

So step away from the temptation to tell that person that he is an ignoramus and politely ask about their sources.

Key word: politely.

Other useful words or phrases that will make you sound like you have a degree in counseling, are severely passive aggressive, or were schooled by Emily Post on the playground in first grade:

perhaps, have you considered, I wonder if, does this make sense, conversely.

And if you are worried about looking like a pansy for being polite, consider the alternative: a donkey's hiney. The last time I stared at a donkey's hiney, I gagged. The last time I stared at a pansy, nice thoughts rushed through my veins. You decide.

would you?

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 04:06:00 +0000

spiritual development in review

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 16:17:00 +0000

My review of New Directions for Youth Development's edition on Spiritual Development is up:

Many youth workers have at least a minimal understanding of faith development theory and they exercise that knowledge in the way they create faith opportunities for the youth in their ministry. However, there are a large number of youth who are never reached by the ministries of our churches. Are they developing spiritually, too? Is spiritual development something that occurs only in relationship to Christ? Or is it, like physical or emotional development, something that occurs for each person?

freedom to be faithful

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Thu, 28 May 2009 14:53:00 +0000

Three or so years ago, two good friends and I went out to dinner. Our conversation wandered through the typical young adult fare of adjusting to our jobs, the lack of suitable suitors, and the evils of twinkies, walmart and itunes. We'd been living in St. Louis for about a year and had wandered individually through several church and neighborhood bible studies with no real connection. Collectively, we mourned the lack of bible studies that met our relational and spiritual needs.

Then, as if hit over the head with a cartoon sledge hammer, we realized we should just start our own. We were each involved in different churches and had different doctrinal heritages, but were already bound together in friendship and our love of Christ. Through our discussion that evening, we devised a plan to invite several other girlfriends to be a part of a group that gathered weekly to study the word. Leaders would be on a voluntary basis and would rotate. We'd decide as needed what to study next.

And that's what happened. We've been gathering on Thursday nights for these three years. We've studied the Gospels, the Prophets, the Epistles. We've read CS Lewis, Lauren Winner, Shane Claiborne. We've celebrated marriages, births, new jobs, and more. We've changed locations as we've moved to new homes. Members have moved on as life pulls and tugs us in different directions. New members have come in as life draws new paths.

I don't hear much of spontaneous bible study groups like ours, but they must exist. Our male friends, spouses, and sig oths have the male version of our group which is rumored to be full of dirty jokes and heated debate. Yet, I have to wonder what role groups like ours have in the Church. We don't show up easily in studies. We don't show up on a church discipleship head count. We are intentionally outside of the established system and yet are a fundamental part of faith development and work of the Spirit in our lives. This paradox is intriguing to me and probably fuels a very small part of my interest in the group.

gratitude

noreply@blogger.com (alaina) — Wed, 27 May 2009 20:51:00 +0000

I received a thank you note today from a youth in our ministries. She's the kind and thoughtful sort that writes thank you notes after retreats and special events, even if I begged her to be okay with her mom coming along because I was desperate for another leader. Beg seems like a strong word, but it is really a balance of my inner thoughts and reality. In my mind, I was on my knees, bawling my little itchy eyes out, groveling. On the outside, I was calm and rational and listened to her concerns about having her mom there. In the end, they both had a great time and mom is coming again.

This time, however, the thank you note was not preceded by anything in particular, except perhaps the sentimentality of the year coming to a close. She is an eighth grader, graduating on Sunday. Soon she will be promoted into the big and scary senior high ministry where they travel out of state and separate by gender for bible study.

Her gratitude is so untimely, unsolicited, and wonderful. I am tremendously grateful for her. Her frolicking maturity has surprised me, delighted me, challenged me. She has gently grown up and brought her classmates and friends with her. She's shared with me and I've learned from her.

As I reflect on her thank you, it almost seems scandalous that she would write me such a note. I've done nothing more than what is expected of me. Rather it is I who should be writing. It is she that has risen above expectations and shared her faith so tremendously. Her gratitude is a reminder to me of the blessing that she is.