layers and links: volume five.

"No." by Austin Channing.

I do not know this Jesus who only died for my white brothers and sisters, but whose arms could not stretch wide enough for black bodies, and therefore Mike Brown had to die because his sin was just too much for Christ to bear. No. I don't know who this is. I don't know this God of a two tiered gospel. 

 "The Pain of the Watermelon Joke" by Jacqueline Woodson.

To know that we African-Americans came here enslaved to work until we died but didn't die, and instead grew up to become doctors and teachers, architects and presidents - how can these children not carry this history with them for those many moments when someone will attempt to make light of it, or want them to forget the depth and amazingness of their journey?

"Listening Well as a Person of Privilege: Solidarity First, Collaborative Problem-Solving Later" by Christena Cleveland.

If Christian privileged people aren't careful, their problem-solving heroics can easily dishonor the image of God in oppressed people. Most obviously, this occurs when privileged people bypass the crucial stage of "weep with those who weep" listening.

"Advent/Darkness" by Christena Cleveland.

Advent isn't a holiday party. It doesn't pressure us to conjure up a hopeful face, ring bells, and dismiss the foulest realities we face. Advent isn't about our best world, it's about our worst world. I think we eat the chocolate and put on the pageants because we don't want to face the worst.

"Advent: For the Ones Who Know Longing" by Sarah Bessey.

I'm learning to be okay with the sadness that rises, with the frustration of a broken world, with longings still unfulfilled, with the profound ache in my human heart for all things to be restored, to be redeemed, to be whole. I'm learning to turn towards a third way: the one that holds both the joy and the sorrow, the one that picks up a small stone to move the mountain in small acts of faithfulness. Advent is one small stone.

quick unlimited listening ears.

"My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry." --James 1:19 

I've been mulling over this verse a lot lately in light of blogging, social media, and the online hemisphere in general.

I rather love the concept of blogging - I think it's a great way to come together as a community and learn to better listen to other people's opinions, stories, and ideas. And since blogging isn't limited to any one person, it's a great way for people to listen to people different from themselves, stories from the margins, voices that are usually silenced. Even though blogging is usually seen in a more casual light, I've learned SO MUCH from reading different blogs and letting their words sink in to my heart and my head, whether or not I agree with them. From my short time exploring the blogosphere, I truly believe it has not only challenged and expanded my line of thinking, but increased my capacity for love and truth and grace.

That being said, it hits me every so often how much power I have as a blogger. Literally, I can write whatever I want and post it for the whole world to see. Now, obviously, my platform isn't big enough to actually reach the whole world. But there are no limits to blogging, there are no parameters. Just a bunch of writers posting whatever they want to say about whatever topic they choose.

For all of its great benefits, blogging also makes it a whole lot easier to be quick to speak and slow to listen.

And in all honesty, that kind of scares me.

A few months ago, I took down my initial posting on sexuality and the church and replaced it with a new one. This happened after I had taken the time to slow down and listen, actually listen, to other voices and stories I had been ignoring up to that point. I had an urge to write about a popular topic that I kept hearing about, and so I jumped in headfirst without pausing to think about how I was being ignorant, naive, stereotypical or hurtful in the process. Thank God for Grace.

A similar thing happened recently after hearing Emma Watson's UN speech on gender equality. I absolutely loved her overarching message, and felt a real emotional connection with it, and had a sudden urge to scream my overwhelming praises RIGHT NOW THIS VERY INSTANT. And I still absolutely agree with a lot of her main points in the speech. But after letting my emotions and opinions simmer for a bit, I opened up my mind to reading other people's opinions, reactions and stories to the speech, coming across a lot of little details I had missed in my initial frantic desire to speak now and listen later. I ended up updating that same blog post after having time to re-collect my thoughts. Thank God for Grace.

Now, I'm not saying that no one can have an opinion, or that every blog post must fall in line with what everyone else is saying. Part of the beauty of blogging is being able to tell your story and state your opinion for others to see. It's a very vulnerable thing to do.

But I like to think about whatever I'm blogging about as a face-to-face conversation with someone else. If I sit down for coffee with a friend to talk with them about whatever blog post I'm currently writing - what would I say? Better yet, how would I say it? Would I yell my opinions at the top of my lungs and leave no room for my friend to speak or interject or ask questions? Hopefully  not.

I like to think of blogging as more of a conversation, versus a speech. I like to blog as if I'm interacting and talking with people, versus talking at them.

Rachel Held Evans does a fantastic job of this with her "Ask A..." series. In it, she offers up the platform to a variety of different people, some of whom she heavily disagrees with, and lets her readers ask them whatever questions they have about a certain topic. Due to the incredible diversity of her blog's readership, she acknowledges on her Facebook page,

"Sometimes that diversity leads to conflict. That's okay. Let's press on with as much grace for one another as we can muster, while still holding our positions with conviction and our stories with loving care."

This is what I'm talking about. It's not about watering down our views or agreeing with every single person we meet. It's about being able to actively engage with and listen to others, not because we agree or disagree with them, but because as human beings and children of God, everyone has a voice and a story that deserves to be heard. And along the way, maybe slowing down to listen to them will help mold or grow our views as we take shaky steps down the path of Love and Truth and Grace.

My dear friend and excellent blogger, Shelby Ray, frequently writes posts to raise awareness of people experiencing homelessness. She is constantly coming back to the idea of listening to people and treating them as image bearers of God. In her latest post (which you should definitely go read and then re-read seventeen times), she says,

I work at a homeless shelter in South Minneapolis and on a regular basis I am encountering men and women who "have no voice," not because they cannot speak, but because no one has chosen to listen. I am interacting with downcast souls that are regularly being stripped of their humanity because they don't even have people to share their stories with... I get to be one less person to see them as a problem. I get to be one more person who interacts with them like a human being, with a mind and a story.

See what I mean? Quick to listen, slow to speak. I am continually inspired by Shelby and her great love for Jesus and people. Remember, it doesn't take much to listen. Only a willingness to stop talking for a bit and open our ears to what someone else is saying. And yet I think it's often easier to be quick to speak and slow to listen. Maybe that's why James felt the need to tell his brothers and sisters to "take note of this."

During my spring break trip last year, we kept circling back to this point as one of the first steps to engaging in racial reconciliation. Quick to listen, slow to speak.

One of the things I hear the most from gay people wounded by Christians and the church is the fact that no one wants to slow down and listen to their stories, only preach their beliefs (that they already know) at them. Quick to listen, slow to speak.

As Shelby mentioned above, it's about interacting with people as human beings, not problems. Quick to listen, slow to speak.

The truth is, I don't have all the answers. I rarely know what to say, let alone how to say it well. But listening doesn't require any words, fortunately. Just a little extra patience, sometimes.

Now, I still fully plan on holding my beliefs with conviction, and trying hard not to shy away from sharing those on the inside cardboard world. That's part of what blogging is all about, anyway.

But I'm also going to try hard to be careful, steadfast, and gracious on this journey, not taking advantage of the ease of blogging by charging forward and ignoring the voices of those around me. Quick to listen, slow to speak is now plastered on my computer desktop, so it's the first thing I see every time I sit down to write. I wrote the following paragraph last year for the "About Me" section of this blog, but I think it will serve as a perfect conclusion for this post.

Because the truth is, I can write and write and write on here until my fingers wear out and my eyes grow blurry from staring at the computer screen. But it doesn't mean a thing if it's not written in the context of community, surrounded by different voices and different people with a vast array of stories and quirks and favorite bands. This blog can't just be about me talking at you, but me talking with you. Let's create a dialogue and foster conversation. Don't be afraid to comment, to question, to like, to dislike, to be.

Quick to listen, slow to speak.

yellowtree: chapter one (updated).

I've been on such a roll writing and revising Yellowtree these past few days, I almost forgot that Tuesday is usually the day when I write a new blog post.

So, instead of throwing something sloppily together, I decided to update everyone on the new and revised chapter one of Yellowtree.

This chapter has been thrown through the ringer so many times, I'm convinced that nothing in it is stable, nothing is permanent. After all, the first chapter, the first scene, the first sentence is one of, if not the most crucial part of a novel. It carries the awfully heavy burden of spiking the reader's interest, pulling him or her in and keeping the pages turning, on to chapter two, scene two, sentence two.

All that to say, even though I've revised the crap out of chapter one, it is still very much a work-in-progress and open to feedback/critique/suggestions/advice. Writing often times look like one step forward followed by three steps back. And that's part of what makes it beautiful, you know? Slow, small inches to the finish line, whatever that finish line looks like.

Right now it's just a big hazy blur in the distance.

Check out chapter one here and let me know what you think, if you'd like.

roller-coaster tapestries: "st. vincent" movie review.

So, it's time for an embarrassing story from Anthony's past (actually, compared to other stories from my childhood, this one's rather mild).

Starting in middle school and continuing on through most of high school, I created a movie review website. I worked at a movie theater for two and a half years, which included the perk of going to movies for free. So, I figured that since I loved movies and I loved writing, it'd be pure gold to combine them and start writing movie reviews!

Looking back, most of my titles were incredibly corny, and my writing needed a lot of help, but hey, I guess it's all part of the learning and growing and living process, right? I stopped writing them when I stopped having time to see movies every weekend, but since I'm in a sentimental and nostalgic mood, I thought I'd take some time to review a phenomenal movie that came out this past weekend, and one that I believe deserves to be spotlighted.

Bill Murray stars in "St. Vincent" as the title character, a grouchy old man who lives by himself and spends way too much time drinking, smoking, and gambling at the horse races. Melissa McCarthy plays Maggie, a single mother trying to raise her young boy, Oliver (Jaeden Lieberher) as best as she can with a consistently time-consuming job. They move in next door to Vincent, and when push comes to shove at Maggie's job, she asks Vince to babysit Oliver each day after school.

From here on out, it's not the most unpredictable movie. Vince and Oliver start up an at first uneasy friendship that involves quite a bit of irresponsible decisions (mostly on Vincent's behalf), but also a whole lot of good. While it'd be incredibly easy for Oliver to push Vincent away after several encounters and label him as 'that mean old guy next door,' he doesn't, and he continues to push to see the light in Vincent's heart, the small, often subtle bits of kindness and care that slip out for those that pay attention.

So many critics have rolled their eyes at the film for its predictable storyline and the fact that Vincent eventually does tone down his rough edges and start showing kindness to others (in his gruff, unique sort of way). And yes, it's not that hard to predict where the movie will go from the opening scene. But here's the thing that did it for me - while the story itself may be predictable and cliche, the characters are not. Every single character in here is flawed and messy and struggling in different ways.

Vincent is terribly rude to almost everyone at first (not to mention his over indulgence in alcohol, smoking, and gambling). Maggie is just barely getting by after her divorce and a looming battle for custody with her ex on the horizon. Oliver faces bullying at school, and also the fact that not only is his dad now absent from his life, but his mom isn't much more present with her hectic work schedule. Naomi Watts plays a pregnant Russian prostitute named Daka who visits Vincent several times a week. Even she struggles to find her way, to make money, take care of a child and find something resembling 'home.' No one here starts out perfect, and no one here ends up perfect by the closing credits. These characters wrestle and struggle and fight with each other all the way through, but when push comes to shove (as it does several times throughout the film), it's striking to me how quickly this unlikely group of misfits bands together and works as a team to lift each other up.

My dad said it reminded him of the Church, or how the Church is supposed to be. For the body of Christ is more than just a weekly meeting in a building, but a tapestry of grace and love and kindness woven throughout the inner depths of people's lives. It's the every day things, the meals together and the late night talks, the rushed trips to the hospital and the giving of money when funds are tight. It's the trips together and the drives together, the screaming fights and the bursting-at-the-seams laughter that won't slow down.

"St. Vincent" portrays this kind of community in a raw, and so very human light, where the characters rarely have it all together, but continue to show up in each other's lives in spite of it all. I left the film feeling so encouraged, as it didn't pretend everyone was A-OK or fixed by the end credits, nor did it leave me with all of the answers. It left plenty of loose ends in the character's lives and hearts, much like real life, where growth isn't often an overnight or sudden flame, but a gradual, embers-like presence that expands slowly, with time. While these characters are so easy to judge and look down upon based on their actions and mistakes, "St. Vincent" is constantly tearing down our assumptions and stereotypes to show the good in everyone's hearts, the light that never fully gets covered up by the dark spots.

For as Oliver says toward the end of the film, even saints are human, too.

In light of my previous posts on showing up, this movie felt like the perfect one to spotlight on my blog, as it fits so well with the themes I've been discussing. Every single cast member delivers a knock-out performance that really got me to feel the character and his/her struggles. Melissa McCarthy gets a chance to break out of her typical comedy role as the serious and stressed Maggie, and Naomi Watts gets a chance to break out of her typical drama role as the comical and ridiculous Daka. Not to mention Jaeden Lieberher, who may be one of the finest child actors I've seen in a long time. This is Theodore Melfi's first time writing and directing a film, and he handles everything with gracefulness and poise, keeping the plot on enough of a roller-coaster that I never stayed sad or happy or laughing for too long.

This isn't a family film, as evidenced by the PG-13 rating. There is a fair amount of profanity, drinking, smoking, gambling and implied sex. Like I said, the characters are messy, and Melfi isn't afraid to show that. This is a gritty and raw comedy-drama, and while it's not for everyone, I couldn't recommend it enough. See it not only to laugh (which you will hopefully do), but to think and to pray and to struggle and to maybe even cry. This film is real, and it's powerful. 

But don't take my word for it. See it for yourself! And let me know what you think!