Have you ever Googled your own name? I tried it today for the first time. As I am embarking on a career as a writer, I thought it might be a good idea to find out whether someone else is already using my name.
As I expected, my search turned up an entry for Michael Bishop, a writer of science/speculative fiction. I knew about him, but hoped he might be dead or inactive by now. He is neither, which discourages me from using that particular name in my published efforts.
So, I ran "Mike Bishop." And discovered this guy:
What is Church?
Mike Bishop, of Jupiter, Florida - organic-church enthusiast. Author of What is Church?
So, the two main areas I would like to spend my time writing in are already populated by barbarians who have taken my name as their own.
I need a pseudonym. Something like Oliver Boliver Butt. Unfortunately, I suppose Dr. Seuss' estate still owns the copyright to that one.
I'm open for suggestions.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Logolatry?
A couple of days ago, Visual Thesaurus' word-of-the-day was anthropolatry - the worship of man. Apparently you can add the suffix -latry to a Latin-based word and turn it into a word for worship of that thing. Idolatry, for instance, is the one we probably know best. Autolatry denotes worship of self. Theolatry means worship of a deity.
Hmmmm... Could it be that any word that ends with -ology can be modified to end with -olatry?
Technolatry? Laborolatry? Stultolatry? Worship of technology, work, and stupidity, respectively. I'm kind of liking this power...
But it seems that the makers of dictionaries draw the line of propriety somewhere before arriving at the portals of these wonderful words. But, hey - every word has to come from somewhere, which means that at some point, someone made it up, right? And what evidence is there that any of those people were more entitled to invent words than I am? I, for one, reject both predecessolatry and antecessolatry.
All of this makes me wonder whether I might be a logolator... no, wait, logos is Greek. Can you mix Latin and Greek? Is it OK to stuff grape leaves with paella? No, I think I won't take that risk today. I'm already cooking up enough new recipes (recipelatry?) On the other hand, if -logy is a Greek suffix, and it's regularly added to Latin nouns, what would be the harm in working it the other way around? I should be free to level accusations of toiletrylatry when I walk through a department store!
All of which just goes to reinforce the probability that I am guilty of loculatry, which could either be worship of words or worship of talking.
And then, of course, there's the ultimate extension of this whole ramble - latrolatry - worship of worship. But that's a post for another day...
Hmmmm... Could it be that any word that ends with -ology can be modified to end with -olatry?
Technolatry? Laborolatry? Stultolatry? Worship of technology, work, and stupidity, respectively. I'm kind of liking this power...
But it seems that the makers of dictionaries draw the line of propriety somewhere before arriving at the portals of these wonderful words. But, hey - every word has to come from somewhere, which means that at some point, someone made it up, right? And what evidence is there that any of those people were more entitled to invent words than I am? I, for one, reject both predecessolatry and antecessolatry.
All of this makes me wonder whether I might be a logolator... no, wait, logos is Greek. Can you mix Latin and Greek? Is it OK to stuff grape leaves with paella? No, I think I won't take that risk today. I'm already cooking up enough new recipes (recipelatry?) On the other hand, if -logy is a Greek suffix, and it's regularly added to Latin nouns, what would be the harm in working it the other way around? I should be free to level accusations of toiletrylatry when I walk through a department store!
All of which just goes to reinforce the probability that I am guilty of loculatry, which could either be worship of words or worship of talking.
And then, of course, there's the ultimate extension of this whole ramble - latrolatry - worship of worship. But that's a post for another day...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The War of Art
Many thanks to my new friend, Patrick, for recommending The War of Art, by Steven (or Stephen) Pressfield.
It's a lot like Shout to the Lord, in the sense that once you've heard its message, you're immediately glad that someone put it out there. Then, an instant later, you wish you could have been that person. Not because of the money, or the fame, or the opportunities associated with it. Like Shout to the Lord, Pressfield's book comes from a very good place, and you would just give your left hind leg to be in such a place.
Then, after these wistful thoughts, you realize that singing Shout to the Lord, from your heart, can take you to the place from which it sprang. And it is the same when you take The War of Art into your heart - you end up in such a better place.
For my Christian friends, be forewarned - Pressfield does not write from a Christian viewpoint. But his understanding of the Divine is nonetheless staggering - perhaps even more so - for this reason. If you believe that you are a creative soul who is not living to your potential, please read the book. If you believe that you are not a creative soul, please read the book immediately, frequently, and devotedly until you learn the truth about yourself.
God shaped you from birth, or even before, to fit a particular role in this world. If you are not fulfilling that role, you are not only shortchanging yourself. And you are not "merely" defying God. You are blatantly denying all of us the fullness of all that God wants to pour into this world.
And I am just selfish enough to tell you to get off your ass and get busy filling this world with God-stuff.
It's a lot like Shout to the Lord, in the sense that once you've heard its message, you're immediately glad that someone put it out there. Then, an instant later, you wish you could have been that person. Not because of the money, or the fame, or the opportunities associated with it. Like Shout to the Lord, Pressfield's book comes from a very good place, and you would just give your left hind leg to be in such a place.
Then, after these wistful thoughts, you realize that singing Shout to the Lord, from your heart, can take you to the place from which it sprang. And it is the same when you take The War of Art into your heart - you end up in such a better place.
For my Christian friends, be forewarned - Pressfield does not write from a Christian viewpoint. But his understanding of the Divine is nonetheless staggering - perhaps even more so - for this reason. If you believe that you are a creative soul who is not living to your potential, please read the book. If you believe that you are not a creative soul, please read the book immediately, frequently, and devotedly until you learn the truth about yourself.
God shaped you from birth, or even before, to fit a particular role in this world. If you are not fulfilling that role, you are not only shortchanging yourself. And you are not "merely" defying God. You are blatantly denying all of us the fullness of all that God wants to pour into this world.
And I am just selfish enough to tell you to get off your ass and get busy filling this world with God-stuff.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sheep Trick
There is new rain in my life - songs and other revelations are flowing where few have appeared for several years. In the midst of this rainfall, I keep hearing words about shepherds. I think there must be a chapter or two in A Wild God (in the process of writing) about sheep and shepherds in the Wilds.
Here's a little bit of the downpour I drove through this morning on the way to work:
Domestic sheep, by and large, are the incarnation of boring. They just aren't terribly interesting. And that is very difficult for some shepherds to deal with. It isn't enough that sheep eat grass, drink water, and then produce manure. That they make funny noises and enjoy foolish activities like grazing and lying down in the grass. No, we often think that sheep should line up, foreleg in foreleg, and high-kick like the Flockettes. We want "our" sheep to march in intricate patterns, ride unicycles, juggle flaming knives, and bleat Celine Dion classics.
In short, many shepherds don't want happy sheep, or healthy sheep, or even normal sheep. They want trick sheep. And, to be fair, after investing four-or-more years in college (Bible or otherwise), at least another two years in seminary, and finally overcoming the rigorous inquisition of ordination proceedings, it just seems anticlimactic to walk around in the countryside, far from civilization, with no companions but a bunch of wooly critters. And for those shepherds who have not walked the education/ordination path to pastordom, the example set before them in our church culture is still one of convincing "disobedient" sheep to perform on command.
But some shepherds catch a peculiar sound on the wind, an unexpected glimpse in the night sky, a certain taste in the water. And, in whatever metaphoric fashion suits the way God has made them, they pick up a lyre and make music that opens for them the veil of protection. They step - regularly, if only briefly - into the transcendent beauty of His Holiness. And they write down songs about what they see there.
And then - and only then - they let the flock rest securely in green pastures. They lead the sheep to still waters where they may drink deeply in safety. They give the sheep places of honor, and guide them into sight of the Lord's house, the place behind the veil. In other words, having seen the Great Shepherd, they mimic the ways he cares for all of his sheep.
And then the wise shepherds get out of the way, because, as much as God's sheep like resting in green pastures, they will do their level best to run over anyone who blocks their way when they can see God's dwelling place - their heartfelt home - ahead.
Pastoring is not about getting the sheep to do things - especially not circus tricks. It's about keeping the sheep safe and healthy so that they can go about the business of being sheep. Sheep don't need to be taught how to be sheep-ly; they come by that naturally. Their Heavenly Creator has put that in them twice-over - it's in their genes, and in the new life he recreates in them with their rebirth into his great flock. It's only when we get tired of plain-old sheep, and start wishing for stunt-sheep, that we start teaching them new behaviors.
Here's a little bit of the downpour I drove through this morning on the way to work:
Domestic sheep, by and large, are the incarnation of boring. They just aren't terribly interesting. And that is very difficult for some shepherds to deal with. It isn't enough that sheep eat grass, drink water, and then produce manure. That they make funny noises and enjoy foolish activities like grazing and lying down in the grass. No, we often think that sheep should line up, foreleg in foreleg, and high-kick like the Flockettes. We want "our" sheep to march in intricate patterns, ride unicycles, juggle flaming knives, and bleat Celine Dion classics.
In short, many shepherds don't want happy sheep, or healthy sheep, or even normal sheep. They want trick sheep. And, to be fair, after investing four-or-more years in college (Bible or otherwise), at least another two years in seminary, and finally overcoming the rigorous inquisition of ordination proceedings, it just seems anticlimactic to walk around in the countryside, far from civilization, with no companions but a bunch of wooly critters. And for those shepherds who have not walked the education/ordination path to pastordom, the example set before them in our church culture is still one of convincing "disobedient" sheep to perform on command.
But some shepherds catch a peculiar sound on the wind, an unexpected glimpse in the night sky, a certain taste in the water. And, in whatever metaphoric fashion suits the way God has made them, they pick up a lyre and make music that opens for them the veil of protection. They step - regularly, if only briefly - into the transcendent beauty of His Holiness. And they write down songs about what they see there.
And then - and only then - they let the flock rest securely in green pastures. They lead the sheep to still waters where they may drink deeply in safety. They give the sheep places of honor, and guide them into sight of the Lord's house, the place behind the veil. In other words, having seen the Great Shepherd, they mimic the ways he cares for all of his sheep.
And then the wise shepherds get out of the way, because, as much as God's sheep like resting in green pastures, they will do their level best to run over anyone who blocks their way when they can see God's dwelling place - their heartfelt home - ahead.
Pastoring is not about getting the sheep to do things - especially not circus tricks. It's about keeping the sheep safe and healthy so that they can go about the business of being sheep. Sheep don't need to be taught how to be sheep-ly; they come by that naturally. Their Heavenly Creator has put that in them twice-over - it's in their genes, and in the new life he recreates in them with their rebirth into his great flock. It's only when we get tired of plain-old sheep, and start wishing for stunt-sheep, that we start teaching them new behaviors.
Friday, February 19, 2010
No, really, we can go inside...
A while back we were privileged to spend time with a group of wonderful friends that we have come to see as our Tribe. The elders told stories of what the Almighty was saying to them. One of the themes that struck home was how enamored the church has become with the scaffolding that surrounds the true building.
As God builds his spiritual temple, he sometimes employs support structures to facilitate the work. Visual Thesaurus defines such a structure, a scaffold, as a temporary arrangement erected around a building for convenience of workers. But when these structures are no longer required, God will move them off to the side. But, for some reason, christians seem fascinated by the scaffolding. We can't take our eyes off the platforms, even when the building is being revealed. We insist on playing and working and living on the staging and catwalks, when we could open the door of the temple and step inside.
'Cause, you know, inside is where God keeps all the good stuff.
Really, we can go inside.
Really.
Inside!
As God builds his spiritual temple, he sometimes employs support structures to facilitate the work. Visual Thesaurus defines such a structure, a scaffold, as a temporary arrangement erected around a building for convenience of workers. But when these structures are no longer required, God will move them off to the side. But, for some reason, christians seem fascinated by the scaffolding. We can't take our eyes off the platforms, even when the building is being revealed. We insist on playing and working and living on the staging and catwalks, when we could open the door of the temple and step inside.
'Cause, you know, inside is where God keeps all the good stuff.
Really, we can go inside.
Really.
Inside!
Friday, February 5, 2010
When the shark bites...
Feb. 1, 2010 06:27 PM
Associated Press
WELLINGTON, New Zealand - A teenage New Zealand girl bitten by a shark bashed it over the head with her body board until it let her go...
You know that shark will never be able to show its face around the school again. "Dude, you got your caudal peduncle kicked by a girl? Looooooooo-zer!"
Associated Press
WELLINGTON, New Zealand - A teenage New Zealand girl bitten by a shark bashed it over the head with her body board until it let her go...
You know that shark will never be able to show its face around the school again. "Dude, you got your caudal peduncle kicked by a girl? Looooooooo-zer!"
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Hey! Wait a minute...or as long as it takes...
Young's Literal Translation of Isaiah 40:30 - 41:1 reads:
30 Even youths are wearied and fatigued, And young men utterly stumble,
31 But those expecting Jehovah pass [to] power, They raise up the pinion as eagles, They run and are not fatigued, They go on and do not faint!
1 Keep silent towards Me, O isles, And the peoples pass on [to] power, They come nigh, then they speak, `Together -- to judgment we draw near.'
I might state it this way:
The mightiest of men will lose strength and wear out, but if they will wait expectantly for the Lord, they will pass from weakness to power. They will spread their wings to soar like eagles, they will run without tiring, and walk without weakening. God calls out, "Be still and silent toward me in your weakness, you mass of humanity. Be still and silent, and wait until you have passed from your hopeless weakness to the great strength I have promised. And when you have gained that strength, spread your wings, stretch your legs - fly, run, walk into my presence and speak to me and hear my decrees."
Conventional wisdom says that when we are worn-out, we should just keep putting one foot in front of the other. We should continue trudging along until eventually we arrive at our destination. But, what if our destination is the presence of God? What if our task is to speak with Him, and hear His answers? If we are plodding along, have we not already succumbed to weakness and fatigue? If we do reach an audience with God in that condition, will we have the strength to carry on a conversation?
When we feel that we are just barely stepping along in our spiritual walk, when all our effort is expended in just making the smallest amount of forward progress, maybe that is precisely when we should stop struggling. Perhaps that's our signal to sit still, hush up, and wait expectantly for God's provision of strength. How long do we wait? Until the wind fills our wings and we lift into the sky. Until the blood races in our veins and we can't sit still, but have to get our feet moving. In other words, as long as it takes.
But, what about all the progress we aren't making while we sit? What about all the cars that are passing us on the freeway while we languish in the roadside rest area? I think Isaiah teaches us that if we wait expectantly for God's strength, we make greater progress by sitting still than we do by plodding ahead.
30 Even youths are wearied and fatigued, And young men utterly stumble,
31 But those expecting Jehovah pass [to] power, They raise up the pinion as eagles, They run and are not fatigued, They go on and do not faint!
1 Keep silent towards Me, O isles, And the peoples pass on [to] power, They come nigh, then they speak, `Together -- to judgment we draw near.'
I might state it this way:
The mightiest of men will lose strength and wear out, but if they will wait expectantly for the Lord, they will pass from weakness to power. They will spread their wings to soar like eagles, they will run without tiring, and walk without weakening. God calls out, "Be still and silent toward me in your weakness, you mass of humanity. Be still and silent, and wait until you have passed from your hopeless weakness to the great strength I have promised. And when you have gained that strength, spread your wings, stretch your legs - fly, run, walk into my presence and speak to me and hear my decrees."
Conventional wisdom says that when we are worn-out, we should just keep putting one foot in front of the other. We should continue trudging along until eventually we arrive at our destination. But, what if our destination is the presence of God? What if our task is to speak with Him, and hear His answers? If we are plodding along, have we not already succumbed to weakness and fatigue? If we do reach an audience with God in that condition, will we have the strength to carry on a conversation?
When we feel that we are just barely stepping along in our spiritual walk, when all our effort is expended in just making the smallest amount of forward progress, maybe that is precisely when we should stop struggling. Perhaps that's our signal to sit still, hush up, and wait expectantly for God's provision of strength. How long do we wait? Until the wind fills our wings and we lift into the sky. Until the blood races in our veins and we can't sit still, but have to get our feet moving. In other words, as long as it takes.
But, what about all the progress we aren't making while we sit? What about all the cars that are passing us on the freeway while we languish in the roadside rest area? I think Isaiah teaches us that if we wait expectantly for God's strength, we make greater progress by sitting still than we do by plodding ahead.
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