Where I'm Going
I wanted to make you aware that I'm moving to Chicago in a little bit.
This is my best attempt at a life update after spending a year off the radar. I'll depart in six weeks after spending 10 years in Arizona. After a brief holiday stay in the Pacific Northwest with family, I'll settle in Lisle, Illinois to attend Northern Seminary.
I'd love to stay connected with you. Send me a text at 602-663-8710 or write me at boy_on_bike@yahoo.com if you're so inclined. I'm really only on Instagram for the time being to avoid completely dropping off the face of the earth. I permanently deactivated my Facebook account, and it was an excellent decision. I smile when I consider all the anxiety-inducing political arguments I'm missing. Frankly, I think killing off my Instagram account will do wonders for my self-esteem once I work up the courage to unplug. Although social media platforms make it easier to create and maintain friendships, I don't want easy friendships. I don't want a platform to be the basis of our friendship. Friendships require initiative – the willingness to ask "How are you?"– and vulnerability and courage to answer honestly. I've settled for too many shallow acquaintances over the years and made the mistake of believing those were friendships.
All that to say: I'd love to keep in touch with you. And while we're at it, here's a brief, unsolicited FAQ:
What's your goal with seminary?
I'm going to get a master of divinity degree, and I don't know what I'll do after that. Maybe go into the pastorate. Maybe do more seminary and research. Maybe try the nonprofit world. Joining a commune also sounds kinda fun. Maybe do all four of those things.
Why Northern?
I really love Scot McKnight, who's one of the main teachers there. It's a small school that most people have never heard of, but my hope is to take full advantage of the intimate setting to build friendships with faculty and students.
Where's your family?
They've all moved up to the Greater Seattle region except for me and Abi. She's killing the game in Tucson right now.
I heard you went off the deep end with your faith when you left Sovereign Grace.
I learned this rumor not too long ago, and it really hurt to hear. I wish people had just asked me why I left instead of just assuming. If you had asked, I would have said something to this effect: I love Jesus and my greatest wish is to follow him. I don't have all the answers to faith, and I don't presume to be further along than anyone, but I left Sovereign Grace because of a calling I felt from God– not out of unbelief.
You're free to believe whatever you want about me, though.
What happened after you left that church?
I've been attending Trinity Mennonite in Glendale for almost a year now. Never in a million years did I think I would end up in such a place, but words can't express how grateful I am for it. I walked into the building angry at the American church, confused about God and full of pain and self-loathing. Trinity Mennonite doesn't have the horses and buggies and head coverings that people joke about, but what it does have is a safe space where I can be utterly honest about where I've been and where I'm going. I am forever grateful for these wonderful, peace-loving Mennonites for sharing their community with me and giving me the hope I desperately needed.
So what's your long-term goal?
I don't know, fam. I'm just trying to see one step front of me for the time being. My relationship with the American church grows more confusing and troubling each day, but I can't seem to shake the sense of purpose that I feel for the culture that raised me. I feel so much frustration and despondency toward the church. Whether we mean to or not, Christians have hurt people, and we seem to get more effective at hurting people when we gather in large groups. I see so much pain in those who have left the church, but also in those who have stayed and even in those in power who benefit from the system. I find myself grieving so many things that used to be and so many things that never were. But I've also seen the good things a community can do when it models the way of Jesus. I've experienced the power of sacrificial love, and I can't help but want to pass it on. It's a fascinating combination of naivety and disillusionment. Disappointment and hope play off each other so curiously.
The song below almost perfectly captures the feeling:
Show me the race, I'll run the distance
Longing to give and taste forgiveness
Dying to live a pure religion
Settle the rush to chase submission
Open my eyes and soul to listen
I don't know where this journey is going to take me, but I'm ready to take a risk. Maybe I'll come crawling back to Phoenix and beg to stay on your couch because seminary was a bad gamble. I can't articulate my "calling" in the way many Christians seem to be able to do. I prefer to think of it as a song. This song – though it is muffled and even muted at times– rises to my ears with great beauty and beckons me to follow. And I'm going to chase this song as far as it will go.
This is my best attempt at a life update after spending a year off the radar. I'll depart in six weeks after spending 10 years in Arizona. After a brief holiday stay in the Pacific Northwest with family, I'll settle in Lisle, Illinois to attend Northern Seminary.
 |
| This is Kevin Durant sporting my seminary's logo. Here's background on the meme for those unfamiliar with it. |
All that to say: I'd love to keep in touch with you. And while we're at it, here's a brief, unsolicited FAQ:
What's your goal with seminary?
I'm going to get a master of divinity degree, and I don't know what I'll do after that. Maybe go into the pastorate. Maybe do more seminary and research. Maybe try the nonprofit world. Joining a commune also sounds kinda fun. Maybe do all four of those things.
Why Northern?
I really love Scot McKnight, who's one of the main teachers there. It's a small school that most people have never heard of, but my hope is to take full advantage of the intimate setting to build friendships with faculty and students.
Where's your family?
They've all moved up to the Greater Seattle region except for me and Abi. She's killing the game in Tucson right now.
I heard you went off the deep end with your faith when you left Sovereign Grace.
I learned this rumor not too long ago, and it really hurt to hear. I wish people had just asked me why I left instead of just assuming. If you had asked, I would have said something to this effect: I love Jesus and my greatest wish is to follow him. I don't have all the answers to faith, and I don't presume to be further along than anyone, but I left Sovereign Grace because of a calling I felt from God– not out of unbelief.
You're free to believe whatever you want about me, though.
What happened after you left that church?
I've been attending Trinity Mennonite in Glendale for almost a year now. Never in a million years did I think I would end up in such a place, but words can't express how grateful I am for it. I walked into the building angry at the American church, confused about God and full of pain and self-loathing. Trinity Mennonite doesn't have the horses and buggies and head coverings that people joke about, but what it does have is a safe space where I can be utterly honest about where I've been and where I'm going. I am forever grateful for these wonderful, peace-loving Mennonites for sharing their community with me and giving me the hope I desperately needed.
So what's your long-term goal?
I don't know, fam. I'm just trying to see one step front of me for the time being. My relationship with the American church grows more confusing and troubling each day, but I can't seem to shake the sense of purpose that I feel for the culture that raised me. I feel so much frustration and despondency toward the church. Whether we mean to or not, Christians have hurt people, and we seem to get more effective at hurting people when we gather in large groups. I see so much pain in those who have left the church, but also in those who have stayed and even in those in power who benefit from the system. I find myself grieving so many things that used to be and so many things that never were. But I've also seen the good things a community can do when it models the way of Jesus. I've experienced the power of sacrificial love, and I can't help but want to pass it on. It's a fascinating combination of naivety and disillusionment. Disappointment and hope play off each other so curiously.
The song below almost perfectly captures the feeling:
Show me the race, I'll run the distance
Longing to give and taste forgiveness
Dying to live a pure religion
Settle the rush to chase submission
Open my eyes and soul to listen
I don't know where this journey is going to take me, but I'm ready to take a risk. Maybe I'll come crawling back to Phoenix and beg to stay on your couch because seminary was a bad gamble. I can't articulate my "calling" in the way many Christians seem to be able to do. I prefer to think of it as a song. This song – though it is muffled and even muted at times– rises to my ears with great beauty and beckons me to follow. And I'm going to chase this song as far as it will go.
Comments
Jarid