Friday, May 21, 2010
new names
I've decided to go with something simple. Nerd confession: I keep three blogs on blogger. One is a private journal, which I have renamed meditatio. Another is also a private blog for more literary endeavors, which I have renamed oratio. And, the third is this one, which is now titled contemplatio. I've named my blogs after latin phrases commonly used to represent fundamental principles of the contemplative life. This fits with a personal goal of mine to become a more contemplative person in an effort to simplify my life in this world and to deepen my life in the Spirit. Now that I've graduated, I'm trying to focus myself even more on growing my heart in God. I feel as though my mind has gotten a head start (oh, that's a pun - unintentional) and I'd like my heart to catch up and perhaps even take the lead from here on. So, there you go. I recently deleted all but two of the games on my iphone (I left the two I never really want to play but might if I were stuck in an airport) and I've renamed my blogs. Lame, but it's a start.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
name change
Now taking suggestions for a new title for the blog. Chad Billy-Steve Pknicholson doesn't even make sense to me anymore, even though I know what it means....
Until then, it's a shout out to Arrested Development.
Until then, it's a shout out to Arrested Development.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Mastering Memphis, step one
Not all people are wired the same way. Some people play video games because they love the challenge. They only play their games on the most difficult setting. They like having three lives to challenge 1 billion immortal zombies, or they like it when the QB throws a pick on their own 20 with 30 seconds left in the fourth when they're up by three.
I don't get those people. I prefer utter domination. I play the game on the easiest setting first and wait until I'm winning football games 250 - 0 to advance to the next level (250 because the game stops counting points at that number). I prefer mastery.
Knowing this about me, you would think that I'd be pretty excited to have graduated last Saturday with my masters. You'd be right. Officially, I have letters after my name. Unofficially, Masters of Divinity has to be in the running for most egregious misnomer in history. Still, I've got the paper and the library to show for it, so there's that.
Graduations are by nature both ultimate and penultimate experiences. They are pivotal moments, the last step of one journey and the start of another, one apex before the next. Since this one, right now, feels more like a last step than a first one, I thought I would take a few posts to look back at the steps that got me here...
Most college seniors spend their last spring break, well, reinforcing the stereotype of last spring breaks. I spent mine with my dad. We took the week to travel to Pasadena and Chicago to visit Fuller Theological and Trinity seminaries, respectively. The weather in California was fantastic. The cost of living? Not as much. It snowed in Chicago. I had a great time with Dad, but the trip didn't give me much clarity about what to do. My main goal was to get outside of the normal CofC stream and expose myself to new ideas and challenge the ones that had become my own. When I got back to Searcy, I decided to talk to a few professors to see what direction they could provide. Dr. Ken Neller helped me understand more about the language of seminary and how to make distinctions between what each school was telling me about what they taught. Dr. Fortner told me, quite simply, that if I wanted to read as many different ideas as possible I should go to HUGSR in Memphis. He told me that I wouldn't necessarily find a broader perspective at the schools where I was looking than what I would get in Memphis. Dr. Monte Cox, a Trinity alum, told me the same thing. I was skeptical but trusted their advice and experience over mine.
In a few weeks, I had applied, gotten accepted, and had received a very nice scholarship offer that included working as a graduate assistant for Dr. Allen Black. All those spring breaks spent at less than tropical climates had literally paid off. After a brief period of deliberation, I accepted the offer. I would join my friends, Bob, Bobby, and Greg (admit it, you were thinking Robert) in the fall at Harding University Graduate School of Religion. I would live on campus. I would work as a GA. And I would pray that Memphis proved to be well outside of the Harding bubble.
I don't get those people. I prefer utter domination. I play the game on the easiest setting first and wait until I'm winning football games 250 - 0 to advance to the next level (250 because the game stops counting points at that number). I prefer mastery.
Knowing this about me, you would think that I'd be pretty excited to have graduated last Saturday with my masters. You'd be right. Officially, I have letters after my name. Unofficially, Masters of Divinity has to be in the running for most egregious misnomer in history. Still, I've got the paper and the library to show for it, so there's that.
Graduations are by nature both ultimate and penultimate experiences. They are pivotal moments, the last step of one journey and the start of another, one apex before the next. Since this one, right now, feels more like a last step than a first one, I thought I would take a few posts to look back at the steps that got me here...
Most college seniors spend their last spring break, well, reinforcing the stereotype of last spring breaks. I spent mine with my dad. We took the week to travel to Pasadena and Chicago to visit Fuller Theological and Trinity seminaries, respectively. The weather in California was fantastic. The cost of living? Not as much. It snowed in Chicago. I had a great time with Dad, but the trip didn't give me much clarity about what to do. My main goal was to get outside of the normal CofC stream and expose myself to new ideas and challenge the ones that had become my own. When I got back to Searcy, I decided to talk to a few professors to see what direction they could provide. Dr. Ken Neller helped me understand more about the language of seminary and how to make distinctions between what each school was telling me about what they taught. Dr. Fortner told me, quite simply, that if I wanted to read as many different ideas as possible I should go to HUGSR in Memphis. He told me that I wouldn't necessarily find a broader perspective at the schools where I was looking than what I would get in Memphis. Dr. Monte Cox, a Trinity alum, told me the same thing. I was skeptical but trusted their advice and experience over mine.
In a few weeks, I had applied, gotten accepted, and had received a very nice scholarship offer that included working as a graduate assistant for Dr. Allen Black. All those spring breaks spent at less than tropical climates had literally paid off. After a brief period of deliberation, I accepted the offer. I would join my friends, Bob, Bobby, and Greg (admit it, you were thinking Robert) in the fall at Harding University Graduate School of Religion. I would live on campus. I would work as a GA. And I would pray that Memphis proved to be well outside of the Harding bubble.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A 1000 Words or Less
I would have done the same thing. Really. I get it. I mean, if you had the choice between eating a donut and holding a baby, you drop the baby, right?
So when Sophie dropped her "baby" on the floor at Gibson's, no one got mad. We all understood the hierarchy. Chocolate donut, then everything else. The only thing I can disagree with is that I would have gone with the glazed.
The tables are a tight fit at Gibson's. Maybe it's a subtle reminder not to overeat? Regardless, it was tough to reach the scorned baby lying hopelessly on the floor in a puddle of glaze and sprinkles. The best we could do was have Jesse pick it up with her feet and swing them in my direction so I could grab the baby.
Holding the baby, I glanced at Sophie. She looked at the last bit of chocolate donut in her hands, made a feeble attempt to lick off her still-shiny chocolate lip gloss and reached half-heartedly for the baby.
"How about if I hold the baby until you finish?" I offered.
"Mrmshmshrehad," she mumbled in reply and returned to the donut.
Momentary distraction aside, Josh and Brooke and Jesse and I returned to the conversation at hand. Until we all realized how funny it was that I was holding a baby.
And so, for your pleasure, the following picture was taken:
So when Sophie dropped her "baby" on the floor at Gibson's, no one got mad. We all understood the hierarchy. Chocolate donut, then everything else. The only thing I can disagree with is that I would have gone with the glazed.
The tables are a tight fit at Gibson's. Maybe it's a subtle reminder not to overeat? Regardless, it was tough to reach the scorned baby lying hopelessly on the floor in a puddle of glaze and sprinkles. The best we could do was have Jesse pick it up with her feet and swing them in my direction so I could grab the baby.
Holding the baby, I glanced at Sophie. She looked at the last bit of chocolate donut in her hands, made a feeble attempt to lick off her still-shiny chocolate lip gloss and reached half-heartedly for the baby.
"How about if I hold the baby until you finish?" I offered.
"Mrmshmshrehad," she mumbled in reply and returned to the donut.
Momentary distraction aside, Josh and Brooke and Jesse and I returned to the conversation at hand. Until we all realized how funny it was that I was holding a baby.
And so, for your pleasure, the following picture was taken:
Friday, October 23, 2009
Last Day
I started blogging about anger because I couldn't think of anything else to write about and it's my constant companion at work. It seemed prudent to write out my thoughts on this strange and powerful emotion. As I was attempting to map out my feelings about the feeling, I really wasn't looking much for feedback as much as finding my way to a conclusion on the matter.
Well, I should have known better if iii was involved. iii is a good friend and blog associate and impulsive commenter! He also turned out to be a good dia-blog-er on the matter. His perspective has given me a lot to think about and has changed my thoughts on anger. But not so fast my friend! Before iii starts claiming total victory, I still think anger never helps. I just think I need to tweak that thought.
Put simply, I think there is one important distinction that gives me a way out. That distinction is the one between feeling and expression. If we allow a distinction between the feeling of anger and the expression of it, then we can both be right.
The feeling of anger might sometimes help. Anger at acts of injustice or unrighteousness may provide the impulse needed to act justly or pursue righteousness. However, the expression of anger, I still maintain never helps. I'm going to hold to the ideal on that point. I can't see a reason, in terms of practicality, healthiness, or spirituality, that would render the expression of anger helpful. Thoughts? Anyone? iii?
Well, I should have known better if iii was involved. iii is a good friend and blog associate and impulsive commenter! He also turned out to be a good dia-blog-er on the matter. His perspective has given me a lot to think about and has changed my thoughts on anger. But not so fast my friend! Before iii starts claiming total victory, I still think anger never helps. I just think I need to tweak that thought.
Put simply, I think there is one important distinction that gives me a way out. That distinction is the one between feeling and expression. If we allow a distinction between the feeling of anger and the expression of it, then we can both be right.
The feeling of anger might sometimes help. Anger at acts of injustice or unrighteousness may provide the impulse needed to act justly or pursue righteousness. However, the expression of anger, I still maintain never helps. I'm going to hold to the ideal on that point. I can't see a reason, in terms of practicality, healthiness, or spirituality, that would render the expression of anger helpful. Thoughts? Anyone? iii?
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