traditions + (non)denominations

The incoming Master of Divinity students have been encouraged to find a denomination in which they would become ordained. Which makes sense – the standard career path for an seminary student is to become ordained and work within that church as a pastor.

I, however, came from a nondenominational church; I don’t have a tradition on which to rely. To complicate that background, some Christians have an attitude that those who choose nondenominational churches do so as a cop-out: they’re avoiding commitment to a tradition by side-stepping the decision.

And although I have no real plans to become a pastor, as someone coming into an MDiv program without any plan on what I’ll be doing when I come out, searching for a denomination seemed like good advice to find some direction. I visited a few churches of varying traditions without much sense of belonging. I google-searched for denominations that ordain women (which, painfully, is an issue). As I went further into reading them, I kept feeling a little put-off by the whole concept. I disagreed with statements of faith, sure, but I was mostly feeling pushed away by the whole idea of a divided church, and the unitarian church doesn’t really bridge the gap of ecumenical conversation and seems to just add to the denominational divides.

I started thinking about ordination as a concept, and looked it up. Definitions use phrases like ‘consecrated, set apart’ … and that didn’t set right with me either. Do I view myself as set apart from other Christians? Does four years of formal education set me apart from the wisdom of an octogenarian who never happened to go to seminary? And this has consequences in rites as well: couples who choose to be married by friends who aren’t ordained, and those married by judges —  are they any less married because their officiant wasn’t consecrated?

I believe in the catholic church. I believe in the pastorship of all people. I believe that anything that gets in the way of following Jesus should work to be eliminated, and for me that includes making ordination into something to put on my resumé when Jesus clearly didn’t care about obtaining the approval or authority of the religious powers.

So, I’m not side-stepping the denominational issue, and I’m not choosing to be nondenominational because I’ve eliminated every single tradition based on technicalities in their statements of faith. I’ve struggled with the decision, and am finally able, with peace and pride, to declare myself an active part of the tradition of the free church.

Intro to Intro to Hermeneutics

The first day in Introduction to Hermeneutics, I cried. Twice, actually. Crying in public is always moderately embarrassing, and even more so in a class of a hundred, but both times the tears came on so quickly I wasn’t able to keep them back.

The professor, Dwight Friesen, was speaking of interpretation. We all interpret, we all bring ourselves to the text and shape the text through who we are. This is not a new idea to me – I’ve been a fan of critical theory since high school and am pretty aware of why certain stories and novels influence me, where they speak to my story. But he was speaking of interpreting the Bible, the Word of God, which is a bit more sensitive and to be taken more seriously.

And then he spoke to the women: “If you’re a woman, recognize that you come to the text as a woman. The church desperately needs your feminine eyes.”

My lungs filled and lifted, there was a forgiveness of muscles around my spine, my shoulders felt eased, my breath caught as my eyes filled. In two sentences, I was released of a burden I hadn’t even been aware that I still carried, doubts were eradicated that I hadn’t known I held. In that class, which is required of every incoming student, there are plenty of women, but only two of us who are going for our Masters of Divinity. To not only feel accepted, not just affirmed, but deeply valued and even needed — it was an inclusion I hadn’t expected, words I didn’t know I needed to hear.

The other time I was unable to hold back tears was as he spoke of what’s going on his life right now. He’s been ordained through a certain denomination for most of his life, and is now giving up his certification because of the denomination’s refusal to ordain women. As a man, it’d be easy for him to respect this as an issue, speak of the importance of women in the church, and yet retain his certification. A vocal and ideological support rather than one based on action. Instead, he’s choosing to align himself with a marginalized group by giving up the very thing which he wants to be made  available to others.

I know he’s doing it for an idea, for a population, for all of us “feMDiv”s who aren’t recognized as needed by various churches. And yet, because I’m part of that population, there is a sense that he’s doing this for me. It’s universal, but it’s also personal.

And right now, that’s the best example of Christ on the cross I have.

plans

My whole life, I’ve been anxious. When I was young we had my lungs checked and tested and x-rayed multiple times, thinking something was wrong or that I had asthma, but everything always came back negative. In fifth grade, at the National Chess Championship (yeah, that happened), I left the site early because I couldn’t breathe. At 15, I finally landed in the emergency room, convinced that I couldn’t get enough oxygen and was going to die. I left the hospital with the diagnosis: anxiety disorder.

As an anxious person, I like to know what’s going on. In advance. I had a 15-year life plan when I was 11. I allowed for small changes: mid-way through my third year of high school I decided I wanted a senior year. I added a major and studied abroad, which meant undergrad took a little longer than the three years I originally planned on. But I was always heading in the same direction: doctorate in Library Sciences. It wasn’t until last year that I allowed my plan to be entirely derailed.

And yet, once I admitted that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, God spoke through many people and circumstances present in my life at the time, and even high-lighted aspects of my story growing up, to steer me towards the possibility of earning my MDiv and to Mars Hill Graduate School. Since then, everything has been falling into place. A family at my church introduced me to their relative in Seattle, who needed a dog- and house-sitter for the weeks before classes start. After moving, I hadn’t even begun the hunt for a new job, and the woman we’re house-sitting for offered me a  copyediting position for her.

Since that initial decision to admit that I don’t know the best path for myself, that first surrendering of plans, my lack of planning has gone far better than my planning ever did. It used to feel like I had to force, struggle for, jump through hoops for what I wanted in life. Now, it’s like the path is being cleared for me.

Which leads to the current struggle: Keller and I are trying to find housing. We’d like to buy, and that seems to make sense, but there are so many factors to consider: price range, location, size, financing options, layouts. It’s tempting to make spreadsheets of pro/con lists and possible budgets and really push for the place we most want. Instead, when enough hurdles come up, we recognize that maybe this isn’t the place we’re meant to be and turn our eyes elsewhere. Sure, it’s only one decision, that of where to live, but in a bigger context it’s a choice of how to live: will we scheme and plan and obsess, or will we trust God to lead us where we need to be?

One thing has already been decided: wherever our money goes, whether it’s a rental or a condo, no matter how big or small, it will be a space in which we invite everyone from our community. Which includes my classmates, sure, but also our friends from Michigan (or DC, Virginia, Jordan, North Carolina, New York) looking for a weekend away, and any new people we meet here. It will be a place to share narratives, to celebrate milestones, to meditate in silence, to give stories the space they deserve, to develop community and grow souls. We covenanted with God: this place is not ours alone, You live here too, and that means that everyone is welcome.

emerging adults ministries

When I was a student at Grand Valley I began attending church at Mars Hill on Sunday mornings. I wanted to be more involved, I craved genuine community deeply. But I was obviously too old for high school groups, and the other options seemed to be for married couples, young families… I felt like I had fallen into an age-gap abyss where there was no programming for someone of my age. I decided to sit in the same section repeatedly, hoping I’d begin to recognize people around me and be able to form some relationships. But the sea of faces changed week after week, and it became clear that wouldn’t work.

Eventually, Mars Hill started short circle groups. I signed up for one, began leading it when it changed into a house church, then became involved with the student groups… now I’m overwhelmed with hugs before service and linger afterwards to catch up with people before heading to brunch where I share life with more friends I’ve met at church. I’m grateful for the communities I’ve found and created, but I still remember what it was like to feel lost and on the outside of a movement I wanted so badly to be a part of. Emerging adults is where I would love to spend my time, and I’ve been trying to find a place in that ministry since it was announced that it was being created last fall.

So, yesterday afternoon I spoke with the new pastor for young adults ministries at Mars Hill. I’m super excited about what he has in mind. The events sound like they’re structured so that the church begins moving to young adults and what they’re already interested in and doing, rather than trying to get young adults to change into what the previous generation wants them to be. At the same time, they’re not being put in their own group until they “grow up” (whatever that means); intergenerational relationships sound like they’ll be an important part of the ministry. I’m really looking forward to attending the events coming up (movies! concerts! discussions!) and being involved as much as I can.

But as excited as I am for this ministry, I left the meeting feeling down. They’ll be looking for interns and residents in the Fall for some of what they have planned, and he had said I’d be the type of person they were looking for … except I’ll already be in Seattle. The rest of my day was spent preoccupied about this, thinking about how many people would be applying for those spots in the future, and how even though right now I’m a part of the Mars Hill community, if I come back after a few years away that may not be as true. Working with young adults through Mars Hill is my dream career, and an internship/residency would be a huge step towards that… my mind kept drifting back to the same question: am I making a mistake by going away for school?

At 56 I tried to keep my focus on what was being said, to listen carefully to what the girls were saying (and just as importantly, listening to what they’re not saying), but the question kept nagging at the back of my mind. When I should have been singing I found myself silently praying for reassurance that the move is right, or for a sign big enough to convince me to switch school plans to stay in GR.

Apparently, God listens, and sometimes responds quickly. On the way out, Jim commented on my bag, and our conversation quickly moved to Seattle and my school plans. He hadn’t known that I was planning on going to MHGS, which is a good thing because I got to see his initial reaction: total excitement and enthusiasm. This man is blessed with an enthusiasm that is dangerously contagious. When he’s energized about something, the whole room is drawn into that energy with him. And he’s so genuine in that excitement, it obliterates any doubts. No one could be this excited about something that wasn’t going to be great. He’s blessed with energy; the rest of us are blessed that he uses it for good.

Soon, Jim and I were talking quickly, as though our sentences – even our language – can’t possibly have enough words to contain all the ideas and information we have to convey to each other. His energy pulled up mine, my hopes were raised, and I walked out to my car with my answer. MHGS will be a great experience, and Mars Hill is my heart’s home; I’ll always be welcomed here in some way.

It’s unusual for me to see the answer to a prayer so quickly and clearly, and when it happens I feel overwhelmed with love and joy, knowing that there’s a powerful force in the universe that cares about me. Sometimes God shows up as a newborn baby in a manger, and a month later is a pro-basketball-tall man with a tie in an abandoned mall.

paychecks + paralysis

For weeks I have been agonizing over how long to stay at my job at the public library. It’s minimum wage, it requires 20 hours a week (I can’t get more to make it worth quitting my other job; I can’t cut back to make a more manageable schedule), it always requires weekend work, it’s preferred that I do five shifts of four hours each (I’m not allowed to do all my hours in three days)… it’s set up to not be a very desirable job. I was willing to do it when it was a friendly work environment and saw my future career being in libraries, but since I requested the demotion to the entry-level position my co-workers have seemed cold. When it’s a “job” and not a “career,” it just didn’t feel worth it.

And yet … quitting would mean losing half my income. And as I look forward to a big (expensive) move to big (expensive) Seattle, I’ve decided, week after agonizing week, that it was worth it to stay in a job that I dislike. Even knowing that there are other projects that are more to my skillset — projects that I like to think would be more pleasing to my Creator for me to create — I still stayed, because a small guaranteed paycheck is more calming than the risk of stepping into art worlds. Not to mention, juggling two jobs and church activities dominated my schedule enough that I was able to blame work for my inability to create projects. If I quit, that would mean either doing the projects seriously, or having no one to blame but myself for not doing so.

Sunday Rob preached a great message, called “Lessons in Vapor Management.” At the end, he said that we all fall into this mindset of “If only I could just —-, then I would be —-.” I think usually we fit this to the pattern of “If only I could just (accomplish a concrete, worldly task/possession, externally), then I would be (some uncreated emotion or peacefulness, internally).” We fill in the blanks with our own words, but no matter what they are, the universe doesn’t work that way. The external can’t fulfill the internal. Which is why Jesus didn’t come to tell us “Here are ten easy steps to help you become a calm, joyful, fulfilled person.” He says “Here you go, here it is; you had it all along.” We toil for what we had the whole time.

And he’s right, you know. I have fallen into that pattern: If I just stay at this job, I won’t be anxious about finances. If I can just stay for a couple more weeks, I won’t worry about moving to Seattle (as though my anxiety is primarily about finances — who am I kidding?). If I just shelve one more cart of books, I’ll feel like this shift was worthwhile.

But those aren’t true. They’re never true. The promise has been enough to keep me at this job for months, but not anymore. I’m stepping into my anxiety and fear. I’m risking that my art projects won’t be what I hope them to be, that my carpal tunnel won’t allow me to play violin, that the recycled journals won’t sell or even be liked. I’m taking a chance on finding out that the things I think I was created for, aren’t what I was created for. And the possibility of that rejection and deep failure is terrifying; indeed, it’s been paralyzing. It’s paralyzed me into staying at this job for months.

I gave my two weeks notice yesterday. My last day will be the day I turn 24.

2010 highlights

It’s a new year, and like almost everyone else in the world, I’m reflecting on all that has happened and changed in the last year, and what I’m hoping to do with this next one. So in a very me-centeric post, here are some of the highlights of where I was around the last changing of years to where I am at this calendar turnover:

– losing (and keeping off) 25 pounds; from passivity to activity; from buying-what-fits to the freedom to develop style.

– from peer pressured into drinking, to straight-edge, to (what feels like to me) a healthier understanding of alcohol.

– moving from taking my hurts to men, to taking my hurts to God — and choosing to share my life with a man; “i’ll do anything to keep you” loneliness to firm boundaries; from needing to be filled to a deeper fulfillment; from silence to self-respect.

– starting krav maga, developing not only punching techniques but also the belief that I’m worth fighting for. (And getting to know these men who in the past would normally intimidate me into silence. Who knew that the instructor could be so affectionate towards his wife, or that an adversary to train with can throw on a sweater and suddenly look so … approachable?)

– a career shift from librarianship to divinity studies; a pretty straight-forward, defined career path to loads of uncertainty.

– from “friends”, to self-reliance living, to developing community and learning how to trust others.

– baptism into the Mars Hill family, God’s family.

– asking help from others, even people I felt are beyond my right to ask such help from, and being deeply rewarded, encouraged, and supported.

– from a frantic paced to-do list to taking time to enjoy what I do, in everything from drinking tea to Christmas shopping (ok, sometimes it still gets away from me and becomes a bit frantic… it’s a work in progress).

– discovering that I have mothering instincts, and learning where to (not) direct them.

Also thinking about where I hope to be next year. Much of this is futile, and I surrender it up as much as I can bring myself to, but I find myself needing to develop intention about how I live. Here’s some of those thoughts, hopes, and plans:

– declutter my life: my possessions, my schedule, my obligations to people and activities to which I shouldn’t feel chained.

– a move from the mid-west coast to the west coast.

– study, read, write, discuss, learn, and do my best at all of it at Mars Hill Graduate.

– develop career options that interest me, including learning and studying about my Creator and using this information in artistic pursuits.

– write more. The verbalization of ideas leads to questions and more ideas that are essential to my creative process and growth.

– keep up with the active lifestyle. More fighting with self-confidence, more relaxation through yoga, more stress-relief through running.

– learn to live in rhythm with the work/rest cycle.

confrontation

Last week I had to bring up a scheduling issue with a co-worker, and I knew it’d be a somewhat emotional conversation, so I was kind of dreading it. As I was getting ready to leave for work, I said to my mom, “I better get there early. Gotta go be confrontational.”

“Well, there’s a nice way to talk about it,” she responded.

Of course there is. I said I was going to go be confrontational, not be mean. But in thinking on it, the comment makes perfect sense coming from her, and even explains the way I was raised and my people-pleasing tendencies. In my family, we don’t have confrontation. We just let things fester until someone lashes out, and then the next day go back to pretending like not even that happened. Nothing is confronted, nothing is resolved. And as long as confrontation seems like something mean, it does seem scary. Worse, as long as problems remain unaddressed and unresolved, we keep hurting each other in ways we don’t even realize.

But confrontation doesn’t have to mean fight. To confront can mean loving someone enough to speak truth to them about their actions. It can mean standing up for yourself and your right to your emotions. It might be something big (“it makes me feel unloved when you don’t remember our conversations because you were drinking”) or it can be as simple as “are you able to switch shifts with me?” Sure, it’s always a little bit uncomfortable to do these things, and definitely vulnerable, but it’s the only real way to develop sustainable loving relationships. I’ve come to the point where if something feels uncomfortable, I look at what the impending conversation is and why myself I want to avoid it. Usually, I want to avoid the discomfort because silence allows everyone to think that everything is alright — even as the problem continues and perhaps worsens.

On Friday night, a friend was noticeably upset with another. She wanted him and his (uninvited) friends to not hang out at her building. Really, she didn’t want them to come over in the first place, but has a hard time saying no — especially to people she’s not very close to. She told me she didn’t know how to get them to leave. So, I acknowledged and embraced that the situation would probably be most quickly resolved by me being her voice and having the conversation for her. Just as there are many forms of poverty, there are many ways to be voiceless.

The confrontation was a bit worse than I thought; at one point I was given the ultimatum of “do you want to be my friend or not?” Well, yes, but I’m not so needy and insecure that I am unable to function without his friendship, not so desperate that I’ll let him take advantage of me and my friends.

Anyway, the situation eventually resolved and I was glad I said something, that this is a situation we hopefully won’t encounter again because the conversation has already happened. It was only later in the night that I doubted my action – I was told that I unnecessarily made a big deal out of the situation. Maybe I do go too far in my crusade against myself; perhaps in trying to battle my own people-pleasing tendencies I embrace confrontation too readily. I know my willingness to speak up meant a lot to one friend — she left me a message the next day to thank me — but perhaps at the cost of other friends’ comfort. In the future, I’ll need to weigh my choices more carefully, and look for what brings about the greatest peace. In the tension of silence and voice, of people-pleasing and confrontation, shalom is the best guideline I can come up.

ideas to moves

The last couple weeks feel like they’ve been a test. I have moved from resignation to acceptance in the call to seminary, but it had remained just an idea for the summer, something to do in the future and move towards gradually.

But I’d also been sensing, since Spring, that I should be working with young women – helping them to make better choices than I did, avoid some conflicts, and to grow through hurt during their teenage years. I feel I belong in this role; not only would I be helping other women, but it would help me make sense of my story. Give reason to some of what I’ve been through and the chance to pass on what I’ve learned (and, truthfully, am still learning).

I applied to be a Team Leader with Anthem at church, set up the interview, and told my employer. This was the first real move towards my new career, the first definitive life change in following my Maker’s plan instead of my own. She said there was no way to get me Wednesday nights off, and I told her I already knew that – which is why I was requesting a demotion to go back to my own job as a page. My boss, not surprisingly, wasn’t psyched. We worked out a date for me to switch back that worked for everyone involved, considering her sick leave and vacation plans.

Wednesday I had my interview with Matt, the pastor responsible for Anthem. He’s a totally cool guy, and let me give long answers to his (very personal) questions, listening patiently as I attempted to explain all the complications that helped develop me into who I was. He hasn’t made the decision yet, but I feel good about the conversation just for what it was. Verbalizing parts of my story helped me see where I’ve been, how much I’ve grown, and where I see the future of themes in my life going. The density of explaining the trauma of the last 23 years in just over an hour gave me so much perspective.

Anyway, in the interview he told me that their 5th through 12th grade leaders go on a retreat in early September for training and bonding. Anthem may not be able to use me, but the middle school pastor is still looking for volunteers, so I’ll likely be going on this retreat no matter what. I told my employer about this, and she told me it’s “impossible.” I said okay, but I don’t think she entirely realizes my commitment to following God’s plan for me.

I’m going to suggest one more option for scheduling that’s a little creative and she probably hasn’t considered. If she’s unwilling to do that, I’ll likely need to resign. Which is hard. I feel very guilty for putting her in a difficult situation (even though I’m entirely aware that she’s counting on that guilt being strong enough to get me to stay). And, if I resign now, it’s likely that the Main library won’t hire me back into my old job either. Time has come for me to prove if I’m really, fully, deeply in this life change.

A couple years ago, Ed Dobson preached a sermon titled “Greed” at Mars Hill, mostly on the story of Zacchaeus. At the end, he asked himself if he’d be willing to give up half his possessions in order to follow Jesus, considering his family and his costly disease. He concludes that he thinks the answer is “somewhere between I don’t know, and I don’t think so.”

A month ago, my answer was the same. And still, would I give up half of what I already have? Probably not. At least, I haven’t yet. But I am actively willing to give up 75% of my income by walking away from this job. And that gives me a feeling beyond joy – celebration, elation, ebullience… the knowledge that I’m living in the Kingdom and moving away from serving Mammon or an employer; walking away, even, from bowing to my own guilt.

information sciences

Growing up I never would have thought that I would be preparing to enter the career I’ve recently decided on. Even a few months ago that statement would still be true. Actually, this whole change might be best portrayed by my reading in the last week.

In March I put a book on hold that I was pretty excited about: This Book is Overdue: How Librarians and Cybrarians Can Save Us All. In it, Marilyn Johnson not only praises librarians for all they do, but actually explains what they do. She describes how we are overloaded with information, the Internet putting out more every day. “I felt like I was three years old,” she describes, “high on chocolate cake and social networks, constantly wired, ingesting information and news about information, books and books about books, data and metadata – I was, in other words, overstimulated yet gluttonous for more” (16). It’s librarians who swoop in to organize data, verify facts, and patiently explain to us everything from how to use a mouse to navigating the LexisNexis database. As I placed the hold on it for the soonest available copy I thought to myself, Yes! This is what I need! Someone praising librarians to re-invigorate my passion for organization and free information!

That hold was filled last week. When I went to pick it up, there was another book I had requested on the shelf next to it. This one I had asked for about a month ago, called Flickering Pixels by Shane Hipps, the new teaching pastor at Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids where I attend. I had requested it not only because I had read his first book and was interested in what he had to say, but also because lately he’s become one of God’s voices in my life. This started in April when I made the thirteen-hour drive down to North Carolina to visit both my sister and UNC Chapel Hill for their library school. I was pretty set on Chapel Hill: they were ranked top in the nation, the climate and campus are beautiful, my sister and her boyfriend are nearby, it seemed like an easy choice. But as I stepped into the library science building, I instantly felt disheartened. God just didn’t want me there, and I was beginning to think he didn’t want me in library sciences at all.

When I got back to my sister’s house that evening, I listened to a Mars Hill podcast that I had missed a few months prior. It was coincidentally (or maybe … divinely) Shane’s first sermon as the new teaching pastor, titled “Calling.” He describes how happy he was with his life and work in Arizona; his family was happy, they had a community, a house, friends… he had no desire to leave. He didn’t apply for the teaching pastor position in Grand Rapids. The first couple times the Mars Hill team approached him asking him to take the position, he politely said “no, thanks.” But eventually, they approached him and said “we’ve discerned that you belong here.” He decided that if God had spoken to them then he should do some discernment work too. Back in Arizona, he did… and couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he should be teaching at Mars Hill. He brought his wife and family in on the decision. Then his church elders and members. They all came to the same conclusion: You may be happy where you are, but God tied part of your soul to Grand Rapids, and that’s where you belong.

That was exactly the feeling I’d been looking for, and now he put a word to it: calling! I love my life in Grand Rapids; I’ve developed a social network of supportive friends; I have strong bonds at my Krav Maga studio; I adore my yoga instructor; and most of all, I can’t imagine leaving a church that people around the world wish they could attend. I knew I would have to move somewhere for any kind of grad school, but it would be difficult to leave Grand Rapids. I had to feel a stronger calling to go elsewhere to trump my enjoyment of my life here.

I abandoned librarianship at that time; I knew that if God didn’t want me at any of the schools I’d visited, it was safe to say that he didn’t want me in the profession at all. So, frustratingly, I decided to just sit back and see what happened, see where he was leading me and what he was calling me to do.

At the same time as I was having my career crisis, I had taken over organizing a Short Circle I was in through Mars Hill. We signed up to meet for six weeks, but decided to continue after those were finished. Somehow I ended up being the one to send out emails, coordinate events and locations, and organize discussion materials. I began meeting with Steve Weber, a community life pastor at Mars Hill, to deal with my issues concerning being a woman leader (and with being any kind of leader). Slowly, more and more people were telling me how good I was doing at all of this. When people asked me about my career decision, they would often say: what are you passionate about? And my first thought, unspeakable for fear, was God and love.

I was baptized in May and shared my story with the church. Afterwards Rob Bell approached me to say “that was so … articulate” and to tell me that I “have no idea how many people’s lives you touched today.” I was hesitant to believe him until afterwards, while I was still drenched in holy water, strangers approached me to tell me how meaningful my story was to them, and could they hug me? One man asked me if I’d be willing to meet with him and his wife to discuss intellectualizing God. A couple weeks later, I got an email from Mars Hill about a lady who was trying to contact me – she and her daughter spontaneously decided to be baptised, and would like to meet with me. I met with friends and they began talking to me about their questions about God. I became notorious among certain friends for inviting them to church every week – even though every week they said no. Finally, I couldn’t ignore what was happening in my life. With defeat, I said “okay, God, I’m listening. Here I am.” by clicking on google and searching for seminaries. Two days later, Shane spoke again on calling. This time I didn’t even think coincidence; my boyfriend Keller looked at me in the first minutes of the service and we both thought, divine timing.

Oh, and as for my passion for free information and empowering the masses? Shane verbalized what it was that made me hesitant in that area as well, in Flickering Pixels: “Information alone is strength without coordination. We become a danger mostly to ourselves when we have it. Understanding is the ability to coordinate that raw information in meaningful ways. Understanding creates a certain enthusiasm. We can direct our knowledge toward potentially usefully ends — but we may also be a danger to others. Wisdom, however, is knowing how, when, and why we use our understanding; wisdom is settling into our understanding without being too enamored by it” (71). I’m not abandoning information; I just want to organize it into wisdom for something greater.