So at first it felt a little weird wanting to blog about my church because, I don't know it's just weird but, I LOVE THIS PLACE!
Last week was the most interesting church service I have ever been to in my life. It started with a short clip from Desperate Housewives. Yes, that is what I said, the trashy tv show that my husband and I can't miss and DVR every Sunday night. Don't worry, it was completely appropriate to watch.
If any of you watch the show like we do you saw the episode where Lynette (mother of 5) decided it was time her family went to church. (Her husband did growing up but she had never been.). Her friend Bre lets her go to the Presbyterian Church where she is a member and during the sermon Lynette realizes she's not happy with what the Pastor is saying. After he is finished Lynette raises her hand and wants to ask questions.....in the middle of the service. This astounds the congregation and the Pastor as well because this is not how most church services work. People are there for the answers, not the questions right?
Anyway, at our service this last week that's what the entire sermon was about- answering our questions. On the big screen there was a phone number and everyone was invited to text our questions to the pastor and he would answer them as they came in. People had also emailed him questions ahead of time too. Wow did they come up with some intersting subjects!
Questions like:
Do you think God forgives those who take their own lives?
Do you think it is weird that Cain married his own sister?
(could have the wrong person here but one of them DID marry their sister)
Do you think the end is near?
Were their dinosaurs on the arc?
If everyone came from Adam and Eve why are there different races/ skin colors?
I could go on and on......
I love how he really relates his sermons to what is going on in our lives. It isn't straight out of the bible yet it is relevant and he gets the point across easily and somewhat entertaining as well. I have never daydreamed during one of his sermons and the truth is, I don't think I had ever listened to an entire sermon EVER before I started coming here.
We are in the process right now of setting up a date so we can get Caiden baptised. Hopefully this summer, June maybe. He goes to Sunday School while we are in the contemporary service and he comes home talking about Jesus. It is too cute. He even inserts Jesus' name into songs when he is singing. That is pretty hysterical actually. Every song sounds better when it's got a shout out to Jesus right?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
For Sale
(1) High School Art Class- Students provided
If you are a sarcastic, stinky, obnoxious person looking to get in a fight with whoever for whatever reason, this is the classroom for you.
OR
If you are a sit around, wants to talk to my friends, flirt or sleep kind of person you will fit in just fine too.
No real art experience needed, these kids know everything already.
To apply, please call 816. 666. 1234 and ask for Satan.
Okay, all joking aside, yesterday was a bad day with these kids. HORRIBLE! I think today will be better. At the very least, it is Wednesday and our secretary always brings homemade goodies for us to eat.
Thanks Gale! You may be the highlight of my day!
If you are a sarcastic, stinky, obnoxious person looking to get in a fight with whoever for whatever reason, this is the classroom for you.
OR
If you are a sit around, wants to talk to my friends, flirt or sleep kind of person you will fit in just fine too.
No real art experience needed, these kids know everything already.
To apply, please call 816. 666. 1234 and ask for Satan.
Okay, all joking aside, yesterday was a bad day with these kids. HORRIBLE! I think today will be better. At the very least, it is Wednesday and our secretary always brings homemade goodies for us to eat.
Thanks Gale! You may be the highlight of my day!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Night
Night by Elie Wiesel
Have you read this book? You should. This is one of the most amazing books I have ever read and I am a book junkie. I love to read. Our students just finished up a unit on WW II and the Holocaust and this is the book they read in class. I was so disappointed when the students would see me reading it and ask me why? They all said it was a super boring book and they wouldn't ever read it if they didn't have to. I was shocked! What?! Not only is this book a mere 120 pages but it is anything but boring. Here are a few excerpts from the book. You tell me if you think this sounds boring.
"I remember that night, the most horrendous of my life:
"....Eliezer, my son come here....I want to tell you something...Only to you.....Come, don't leave me alone.....Eliezer....."
I heard his voice, grasped the meaning of his words and the tragic dimension of the moment, yet I did not move.
It had been his last wish to have me next to him in his agony, at the moment when his soul was tearing itself from his lacerated body-yet I did not let him have his wish.
I was afraid.
Afraid of the blows.
That was why I remained deaf to his cries.
Instead of sacrificing my miserable life and rushing to his side, taking his hand, reassuring him, showing him that he was not abandoned, that I was near him, that I felt his sorrow, instead of all that, I remained flat on my back, asking God to make my father stop calling my name, to make him stop crying. So afraid was I to incur the wrath of the SS.
In fact, my father was no longer conscious.
Yet his plaintive, harrowing voice went on piercing the silence and calling me, nobody but me.
"Well?" The SS had flown into a rage and was striking my father on the head: "Be quiet, old man! Be quiet!"
My father no longer felg the club's blows; I did. And yet I did not react. I let the SS beat my father, I left him alone in the clutches of death. Worse: I was angry with him for having been noisy, for having cried, for provoking the wrath of the SS.
His voice had reached me from so far away, from so close. But I had not moved. I shall never forgive myself.
Nor shall I ever forgive the world for having pushed me against the wall, for having turned me into a stranger, for having awakened in me the basest, most primitive instincts.
His last words had been my name. A summons. And I had not responded."
How about this one:
" The march toward the chimenys looming in the distance under an indifferent sky. The infants thrown into fiery ditches....I did not say they were alive, but that was what I thought. But then I convinced myself: no, they were dead, otherwise I surely would have lost my mind. And yet fellow inmates also saw them; they were alive when they were thrown ino the flames. Historians, among them Telford Taylor, confirmed it. And yet somehow I did not lose my mind."
If you haven't figured it out already this is a true story told by a survivor of the Holocaust. He is the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986 and has been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Have you read this book? You should. This is one of the most amazing books I have ever read and I am a book junkie. I love to read. Our students just finished up a unit on WW II and the Holocaust and this is the book they read in class. I was so disappointed when the students would see me reading it and ask me why? They all said it was a super boring book and they wouldn't ever read it if they didn't have to. I was shocked! What?! Not only is this book a mere 120 pages but it is anything but boring. Here are a few excerpts from the book. You tell me if you think this sounds boring.
"I remember that night, the most horrendous of my life:
"....Eliezer, my son come here....I want to tell you something...Only to you.....Come, don't leave me alone.....Eliezer....."
I heard his voice, grasped the meaning of his words and the tragic dimension of the moment, yet I did not move.
It had been his last wish to have me next to him in his agony, at the moment when his soul was tearing itself from his lacerated body-yet I did not let him have his wish.
I was afraid.
Afraid of the blows.
That was why I remained deaf to his cries.
Instead of sacrificing my miserable life and rushing to his side, taking his hand, reassuring him, showing him that he was not abandoned, that I was near him, that I felt his sorrow, instead of all that, I remained flat on my back, asking God to make my father stop calling my name, to make him stop crying. So afraid was I to incur the wrath of the SS.
In fact, my father was no longer conscious.
Yet his plaintive, harrowing voice went on piercing the silence and calling me, nobody but me.
"Well?" The SS had flown into a rage and was striking my father on the head: "Be quiet, old man! Be quiet!"
My father no longer felg the club's blows; I did. And yet I did not react. I let the SS beat my father, I left him alone in the clutches of death. Worse: I was angry with him for having been noisy, for having cried, for provoking the wrath of the SS.
His voice had reached me from so far away, from so close. But I had not moved. I shall never forgive myself.
Nor shall I ever forgive the world for having pushed me against the wall, for having turned me into a stranger, for having awakened in me the basest, most primitive instincts.
His last words had been my name. A summons. And I had not responded."
How about this one:
" The march toward the chimenys looming in the distance under an indifferent sky. The infants thrown into fiery ditches....I did not say they were alive, but that was what I thought. But then I convinced myself: no, they were dead, otherwise I surely would have lost my mind. And yet fellow inmates also saw them; they were alive when they were thrown ino the flames. Historians, among them Telford Taylor, confirmed it. And yet somehow I did not lose my mind."
If you haven't figured it out already this is a true story told by a survivor of the Holocaust. He is the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986 and has been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
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