This morning plunged me headlong into thoughts about justice, persecution, pacifism, loving one's enemy, and the like.

A friend's Facebook today: "I'm taking a stand for my faith - Obama has gone too far and must be stopped!" She proceeded to link me to this excerpt from the economic stimulus package that apparently limits the ways in which schools receiving stimulus funds can use them. Educational institutions cannot use federal monies for the

modernization, renovation, or repair of facilities — (i) used for sectarian instruction, religious worship, or a school or department of divinity; or (ii) in which a substantial portion of the functions of the facilities are subsumed in a religious mission

This article calls Obama an "enemy of Christian liberty" because of this clause in the bill. An enemy.

Even if one perceives Obama to be his enemy (I don't), what was it that Jesus asked his followers to do about their enemies? I seem to recall the word "love." Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. (And by the way, elsewhere Jesus encourages us to pray in humility and compassion, not out of self-righteousness and with a desire to see others fail so we are lifted up.) Turn the other cheek. A non-violent, non-confrontational approach to dealing with persecution. And then, of course, there's Romans 13:1-7.

My Facebook friend is worried that her church will be forced out of it's meeting space, a public school cafeteria that it rents on the weekend. My faith community also meets in a school's cafeteria on the weekends. I think it's a bit rash to conclude that schools that rent out their cafeteria on Sunday mornings wouldn't be able to use stimulus money to renovate that cafeteria (or auditorium, or classroom, etc.) The clause is intended to prevent federal funds from going to the renovation and construction of places of worship. Which is, I believe, as it should be. Our government shouldn't be building sanctuaries, cathedrals, temples, and the like - even if they're built as part of a school of divinity, etc.

Nevertheless, even if this clause does mean that schools across the country have to evict their religious weekend tenants in order to receive stimulus money (again, a pretty far-out notion since the churches are paying the school to rent the space to begin with), the type of vehement response that seems to come so naturally to conservatives is so far off-base and out of line with the way of Jesus that, once again, I feel the church misses the mark and ceases to represent God's love, compassion, humility, and long-suffering to a world that is simply not moved by picket lines and angry signs. If we can't meet in schools, meet somewhere else. Meet in our homes if we must. That's more akin to the early church than anything else anyway. Life will go on, the church will go on, we will continue to worship together.

Can you imagine what it would look like if the church in America responded universally with "Ok, we get it. We see why federal money shouldn't be used to construct or maintain places of worship, and we will gladly and voluntarily find other places to worship so that our nation's schools can accept funding that will assist them in providing better campuses in which to educate our children." Can you imagine the positive PR associated with that kind of response? And doesn't that feel like Jesus more than picket lines and angry epithets?

-M

Last night I went with my friends Steve & Ali to go see the San Diego Repertory Theatre's production of Doubt, a play that debuted off-Broadway in 2004 and is, as I'm sure you know, now a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, and Viola Davis - all four of whom are nominated for Academy Awards this year.

I had seen the film a few weeks ago, and was floored. (I'll be publishing my own Top Ten Movies of 2008 list before Oscar night - check back to see where Doubt ends up.) The stage provided a distinctly more intimate setting, however, to ruminate on the issues presented in the play. The story revolves around a Catholic school & church in 1964 where a hard-nosed and fiercely traditionalist nun begins to suspect the parish's new progressive priest, Father Flynn, of molesting the school's first and only black student. That's already a pretty heavy-handed, packed production. But there are so many more layers to the story, and I find myself thinking mostly about one issue in particular - that of gender roles in an institution like the church, and the varied restrictions & freedoms that men and women have placed on them when they commit to a life of service for God.

I don't want to give too much away about the story. It's definitely worth seeing if you haven't yet. But I'm left (as I think we're meant to be) with my own doubts - doubts about devotion to the church as an institution, about the price of vigilance against evil, about our ability to discern evil in the first place, about how the knowledge of evil takes away our innocence and whether innocence itself is a good thing or not. This play is probably the most thought-provoking material I've seen performed in a couple of years. The questions it raises are good ones to ask. I hope you and more people will see it so that the discussion can be elevated.

-M

For my first journey back to blogging, I thought I'd just post a quick life update. My life. (It only seems appropriate, as this is my blog. However, if you'd like me to post an update of your life, I'll be happy to do so.)

The "big news" is that I'm in a new job. New job path. Career, I guess? I had been working for a retail development firm here in San Diego for 2 1/2 years. It was a good job - I enjoyed the company I kept, but alas, shopping is not exactly my favorite activity. Especially in shopping malls (or lifestyle centers, as most developers now prefer we call them). So, much as I enjoyed my coworkers, it was difficult to receive any sense of fulfillment from the work itself.

Last fall, I was actually feeling quite stuck. Believe it or not, I had somehow convinced myself that I had pretty much experienced all that San Diego had to offer me. I wanted to leave because I was unhappy at work and felt overwhelmed in the rest of life. My music was suffering (or rather, it was DOA) as I had no time to devote to it. The one thing I remained attached to in San Diego was my work with Citywalk, the faith community I helped to start. I love Citywalk - it's the most genuine communal expression of faith I've been a part of, and I have dear, dear friends in that community. I wasn't ready to leave that behind. So, I felt stuck because I was bored with my city, bored with my job, but couldn't leave. And who wanted to go job hunting in an economy like this?

Well, all it took to change that perspective was a layoff. As a company providing niche tenant coordination services to large mall developers, my former employer was one of the first to be hard-hit by the current economic crisis because our services were considered a luxury to many of our clients. I lost my job at the end of October. Certainly, there were feelings of disappointment and fears of not being able to pay the bills, but I actually reacted mostly in excitement. I promised myself that I wouldn't simply jump in bed with the first job that came along, but would instead take the time to evaluate where I was headed in life, and where I wanted to go. Options on the table included going back to school, pouring heart & soul into my music, or looking at the non-profit sector.

So, would you believe I was only unemployed for 72 hours? I still managed to fulfill my promise not to take the first job offer (it was a gracious offer from a friend who had a temp position to fill), but thanks to the gods of circumstance (otherwise known as Jehovah Jireh, I seem to recall from an old children's chorus?), I had a friend who was leaving his position at a non-profit here called LEAD San Diego. I couldn't have stepped into a role better suited for me. LEAD, not surprisingly, is a civic & community leadership development agency. We develop programs meant to inspire & educate people about the needs & challenges facing San Diego's future in order to produce a group of leaders who are ready to get their hands dirty, improving the quality of life in our little corner of the states.

Last fall I thought I had experienced all that San Diego has to offer. That was a big ole bucket of naivete & ignorance. I'm learning new things everyday through LEAD's programs and seminars (which I get to help execute!) that make me so thankful to live here, and help me focus my own energies toward the issues that I care about and can make a difference in. I suddenly feel about San Diego the same way I felt when I first moved here - just that it's a chasm of opportunity, and I want to dive in. (Metaphor cheesy meter: 8 out of 10)

So the whole boring job/boring city perspective went down the drain, and I'm totally wrapped up in getting to know more & more about America's Finest City as I earn my living helping to ensure we have educated, enthusiastic leaders to keep it moving. And, I get to stick around to be a part of Citywalk's future and enjoy these great friendships I have. Essentially, getting laid off was the best thing that could have happened to me; otherwise I might have hung around in an unfulfilling job, disliking my circumstances for who knows how long. And I really do believe there was some serious divine path-making going on there: to be laid off, have the human connections I did, receive support & help from friends who did everything from pray to offer jobs to help with my resume, and only be unemployed for 72 hours at the start of one of our nations most disastrous economic downturn in my lifetime - well, I'm just hard-pressed to explain it all away. Renewed purpose, love from friends & family, and food on the table - what more could I ask for?

Woah, um, hi there! Geez, is that you? You look, um... you look really great! Gosh, how have you been? What's been going on? You're right, its been way too long, I know, I'm sorry. I've just been so busy lately... I'm sorry I haven't called. You still have the same number? Yeah, we should totally get together soon...

Ah, blogging again. It's akin to that awkward conversation you have with a person you bump into that you should have stayed in touch with but haven't. But, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I mean, we live in the same cyber world and all... Anyway - I do have a lot to say now, so here's a list of some upcoming stories I'll be posting (mostly for my own benefit so I don't forget anything):

• Life & job update
• Surprising things I've discovered about San Diego
• The Marin Foundation, and other gay stuff
  
• Church - global & local, and other Jesus stuff
  
• My friends' adoptions
• American Sign Language
• My take on the 2009 Oscar race
• and much, much more!

So if anyone out there still knows this blog exists (and cares), rest assured there is spirited discussion ahead! 'Til next time, in the immortal words of Strongbad: Rock, rock on.

-M

A favorite band of mine has been, since they first hit the national scene in 1995, Jars of Clay. I was in 8th grade and completely obsessed with CCM. That's contemporary Christian music for the uninitiated. A mighty subculture. (My high school senior thesis was entitled "Christian Music at the Crossroads," to help you understand how enamored I was.)

The captivating thing about Jars of Clay, from the moment their hit song "Flood" debuted on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, peaking at #37, was that this was a band made up of Christian guys who very clearly had a mission beyond the church. At the time, the idea of blurring the lines between sacred and secular - especially in the world of music - was still something that was dangerous in my insular little world.

Thirteen years later, I have, of course, experienced significant change in my beliefs about the sacred/secular divide; namely, that the divide is entirely invented and unnecessary - wrong and harmful, even. And thirteen years later Jars of Clay is still making music that continues to pull the veil off my eyes. Ingenuity, passion, creativity, and compassion are characteristics I would attribute to this band. Dan Haseltine and the boys just released a new EP entitled "Closer," and its title track has instantly become one of my favorites and an anthem for life now. I don't understand why we can't get close enough / I want your kite strings tangled in my trees, all wrapped up. Could double as my personal cry against the created chasm between "sacred" and "secular."

That song, along with completely reworked versions of the aforementioned "Flood" and "Love Song for a Savior," are proof positive that JOC is far from finished with their mission to sing spiritually about all of life. And the EP is just so darn good to listen to. Check it out.