Thanks for checking out the blog: I've moved!

Thanks for checking out the blog,

I've moved to:

ryanjmcginnis.com

I look forward to seeing you there!

Where's Home?

Home is a safe place which belongs to you and to which you belong. I’ve been on a journey to find that safe place in recent days (or maybe years – I’m not really sure where I belong). I find myself in the company of mystics at times, believing that the journey inward is the one in which the divine is revealed and tranquility attained. The journey inward, for me, is a roller coaster ride into the belly of hell (at least when it’s ventured alone).  

I have often denounced the belief that truth can be obtained in abstraction given that revelation is highly relational. God reveals himself through interacting with persons and nations in history. God makes his dwelling on earth in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. I now know that my emphasis on the importance of church community however, remains an abstract truth rather than an experiential reality.  

Home is in the company of those with whom I already have acquaintance. Antithetical to home is the pursuit of those with whom I have yet to be acquainted. Home is the opposite of the pursuit of relationships in quantity and quality which will satisfy the longings for affirmation. Home is being satisfied, content, wholly complete in what has been provided, and thankful toward the one who has provided it. 

But again, home is that safe place. Home are the few Christian misfits who love Jesus, love their brothers and sisters and neighbors, yet still do not feel at home. Home is those few misfits who comfort, encourage, and strengthen me as much as I ever do them. 

Though I speak of the select few who “get me”, I would venture to say that if we took off the masks and were honest, very few of us feel at home. If we could be honest and vulnerable with each other, maybe we could begin to build a home together, and in this home we can live a hopeful exilic life.

Time to Disappear

It’s incredibly strange how anger, resentment, angst, agitation can creep into your life. I always think of myself as a person who is committed to finding the source so that the symptoms are not belched on to everyone within reach.

That is to say, behavior is always driven by a source. More often than not the behavior is only a symptom of the source that we are too afraid to confront. None of this is intentional. Projection is not a conscious choice.

A man who has invested a great deal in me once challenged me, when I was angry with someone or engaging in behavior meant to alleviate such burdens, to stop and bring to the forefront of my mind exactly what motivated the behavior.

I’ve been trying to get to a place where it takes less time for me to identify my symptoms and track them back to the source. It’s a lot of work. There’s a reason that our minds create these barriers: to protect us from the pain a full frontal confrontation will bring. In the long run, addressing such issues is far greater than the damage it causes inwardly and for those who love you when they are suppressed.  

I had a nickname in college that demonstrates one of my major symptoms. One of my professors used to call me “Mr. Jaded and Cynical”. Truth be told, I think the reason he did this was because he suffered from the same symptoms. The old adage “it takes one to know one” is incredibly accurate.

Whenever my tone (in print or in-person) becomes caustic, hostile, or juvenile, I’ve got some things to work out.

So I’m going to disappear for awhile. I’m going to work on making things right, confronting those whom deserve my anger, stop making others pay for it, and lay down these burdens I carry unnecessarily. I’m going to become a bit more contemplative and reflective. I’m going to throw myself into my studies (my act of worship). I’m going to start living with my wife instead of inside my head.

The more I think of it, my burdens sound like powerful gods to which I must appease, bending and bowing before their demands. I hate them. I renounce them. I will confront them and put them in their proper place.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.

Dear Pretentious White 20 Somethings

I've heard whispers that my generation is the next "Great Generation". There are very few ways that we can be negatively caricatured the way other generations can (at least for the time being). There is something I'm beginning to see that concerns me however. 

Yes, I find my generation to be very informed and engaged with issues that actually matter. Yes, I find it to be the case that my generation is laboring toward issues of justice; whether they be racial, societal, or global.

What concerns me is that the same air of paternalism saturates the attitudes of many who look like me. We speak of unity, partnership, collaboration, reconciliation, but when it comes time for us to collaborate with each other we act pretentious. We act as if we're more enlightened than our white peers.

Perhaps some examples might help: 

Hey, fellow hipsterish white guy who lives in our neighborhood: I see that you take time to greet everyone else on their stoop, but when you walk past my wife and I you ignore us. Even though I make eye contact and say warmly "how are you?" you keep rolling by like I'm begging you for money. I'm sorry, I didn't know I stole your thunder for being the great white hope of the block you pompous douche! 

Oh, and PS, there's more than one of you.

I've been passionate the last year and half about issues of race relations in our country. It became important to me first because of a man named Dr. Al Tizon who spoke about urban/suburban partnerships and issues of racial reconciliation and the new trend of urban gentrification. More recently I attended the YWCA Racial Justice Initiative.

Through those mediums I've been able to have conversations about race with people of color without consequence. I talk to the guys at Champs, the folks at C-town, and my neighbors about these issues, and I'm often surprised when they invite me into their experience. At the Racial Justice Initiatives our talks began with us granting permission to feel uncomfortable, permission to say "ouch" whenever someone’s toes have been stepped on, and permission to make mistakes. 

For some reason though, I can't have a conversation with other white folks in their 20's about race. It becomes a competition of who's less racist. Everything becomes about wagging a righteous finger for not being as informed. Are we really that afraid of our ignorance being discovered that we have to one up each other? This is the worst kind of delusion: believing that it's our responsibility to correct others while being blind to our own prejudice. Another example...

In a group setting, an African American woman speaks of her deep hurt and self hatred, and some of the resentment she felt toward Caucasians at times. A young white woman my age says to her:

"Can I challenge you on something? You need to get over that hurt. You need to put that behind you and move on with your life. I had things in my past that hurt. I once was where you are, but I put those things behind me."

Really, you know what it's like to be an African American woman in a racist society? REALLY? You just put the hurt behind you? It's just that simple?

As John Oliver says:

"If you're wondering how many balls it takes to say something like that... it takes three balls!"

In the same way, when I bring up issues of race with other white folks, I get corrected with cliché’s addressing issues of race that in themselves are incredibly ignorant and racist! As if even bringing up the subject amongst white company is a social racist foul. Why do we feel the need to put this topic out of our minds and discussions? 

If you feel the need to establish yourself as someone who isn't racist in order to squelch the conversation and alleviate your guilt, than perhaps you ought to look within yourself before correcting others. If you feel the need to correct the racism in others as if you're not a part of systemic racism, than you need to come to terms with your duality. 

Me? I know I have racist tendencies simply because of the cultural cues I've absorbed (some consciously and some subconsciously). It's not beyond me or any other person of privilege, and I need a community of diverse people to extract it. I need a person to show me where I have bought into the societal lie that privilege does not exist for those with lighter skin. 

The worst kind of prejudice are those who enjoy their privileges while insisting they do not have them, and insisting they're not a part of the problem.

Therefore, my pretentious peers, you and are in the same boat. We have a legacy of hatred and oppression going back generations. We are intricately connected to that legacy. We knowingly or unknowingly participate in those systems daily. Just because you denounce racism does not make you incapable of it. And just because I want to talk to you about it doesn't mean you have to assume I need to be enlightened.

Dear Pulpit

Dear Pulpit,

It has been some time since I stepped up to you in this capacity. I have missed you old friend. I have missed the way you demand of your servant diligence in study and carefulness of word. I do not own you, but you are an instrument of my Father. 

You have caused me a great deal of distress at times, in that I have never been good enough to stand behind you. You have caused me much turmoil as I have stared at the crowed beyond you asking questions of my own worth gauged upon others perceptions. 

On this day I ask of my Father that I may speak with sincerity, clarity, and humility. I ask that you, my old friend, will not cause within me the pride which so easily tempts. Rather, I hope you will permit a grateful heart for the willingness of our Lord Jesus to be at work within his servant. And it is my hope that my Father, at work within me, will beckon others to serve him as well.

Let's Stop Tolerating Each Other

I just got off the phone with John Armstrong, and as is the case with all of our conversations a great many things have come into focus for me. I must state again the importance of relationships. The thoughts in our heads are useless until someone begins to dialogue with you and feed those ideas to strengthen them.

John began the conversation by talking about a PBS special called "Peter and Paul". N.T. Wright was in it as one of the scholars. The concluding premise was that the rift between Jew and Gentile is seen all throughout the New Testament, and polarized by these two leaders: Peter being the Apostle to the Jews, and Paul being the Apostle to the Gentiles. What brought them together (and it's very clear if you survey the New Testament) is the way in which they treated the poor. Their ministry to the poor for the sake of Christ is what united them in cause.

This made me think of something I learned at the Racial Justice Initiative I attended through the Lancaster YWCA. It was said that the idea of "Tolerance" is inadequate. As one of the ladies of color proclaimed boldly:

"I don't want you to tolerate me, I want you to accept me."

And while the scope of this training was geared toward something other than unity among Christians, the lesson still applies. 

But sadly, I realized in conversation with John, that Christians aren't even at the place of tolerance. Christians live in a state of total segregation with their Christian brethren.

If a pastor says something that you disagree with, you can veto him by making the commute to a different church. We have the terrible luxury of casting our Christian brothers and sisters out of our company by choosing who we will associate/fellowship with. As I said before, a true loving relationship means that you don't get to walk away from the other person when circumstances or conversation is difficult. We become stagnant when we do this. We need people in our lives, even difficult people, for us to continue to grow.

Perhaps if we began to unite under what was done for Christ rather than what we think about him, unity could become a possibility.

It's time to move past segregation and tolerance. Let us move to acceptance. Let us embrace and accept our brothers and sisters, for that is what we are.

Some thoughts on medicating for ADHD

The symptoms of ADHD manifest themselves in ways that polarize those who have it. Similarly, the medication that is often given to people with ADHD will aid in one aspect of the disorder, yet greatly contribute to the heightening of its other symptoms.

So,  most children are given a stimulant in order to coerce the part of the brain that otherwise functions in an imbalanced way. This is why many people with undiagnosed ADHD drink gobs of coffee. Caffeine will greatly increase the ability to focus for those who otherwise struggle.

I think it's a myth however, when people say "my child has ADHD so caffiene has the opposite affect on him." 

Yeah, okay! That's why you're child looks like "Tweek" from South Park and his heart just erupted out of his chest from beating so fast. The stimulant drug will in fact heighten a persons ability to concentrate, but it will contribute greatly to the high level of anxiety and restlessness that ADHD generates. People on stimulants may have a better functionality when it comes to productivity, but they tend to be assholes because of their debilitating anxiety.

Likewise, anti-depressants can be prescribed to those whose prolonged anxiety eventually generates an emotional and physical crash . This cycle mimics that of bi-polar disorder, and I'm beginning to suspect that they're the same thing on different ends of the spectrum. The prescription drug that I take is Welbutrin, which is also known as Zyban when it's prescribed for those who want to quit smoking. 

Nicotine is an amazing drug for treating ADHD (alcohol is too, hence all the years of using both heavily). It operates as a stimulant for the frontal lobes of the brain yet does not generate anxiety (this fact brought to you by Philip Morris - LOL!). Welbutrin operates in such a way that it mimics the affects of nicotine, thereby alleviating your need for it.

What frightens me is when psychiatrists begin mixing and matching these medications in order to "strike a balance" with this polarizing disorder. Treating such things requires a holistic approach whereby chemically treating it is coupled with teaching people the tools necessary to overcome its symptoms.

Truth be told, I hate HATE HATE taking medication! It helps however, and it beats self medicating for a lot of reasons. 

If you have a child whom you're considering medicating for ADHD, I'd love to hear your story and perhaps offer some insight. If you think you suffer from the disorder yourself, go see a doctor and don't listen to your friends. People who don't suffer from the same things have an inability to sympathize with your reality. Sadly, the stigma around mental health is ugly and prominent in our society, but as someone once said to me:

Ryan, I have diabetes. I take insulin. Should I be ashamed of taking insulin? No. It's a fact. I have it and I must treat it. It's just that simple. 

What I want to be when I grow up

I can remember being about five years old and knowing for the first time what I wanted to be when I grew up. I'm pretty sure I was about five (?). (Here comes some inner dialogue). I didn't really know my father until I was about four and he played a prominent role in this story, so yes, I must have been five .

I wanted to be a police officer. The image in my mind was of a strong man who said little because words were unnecessary. His presence commanded respect and he helped people. He also had power. Whereas a five year old runt had no authority, a policeman boldly told people which way the parade was going.

I was in the car with my father, his then girlfriend, (soon to be ex-wife number 2) Michelle, and two of her three kids. We were driving on Rte. 340 just pass N. Bailey Road in Coatesville. I can't remember if someone asked me or if I just volunteered the information, but I announced that I wanted to be a cop. My ambition was met with the words, "that's very dangerous. You could get hurt or killed if you were a cop. Maybe you should be something else."

This is just the first of a long line of crushed ambitions. I've found not only in my experience but through observation that fathers who feel small are threatened by the thought of a son being more successful then they are. Sort of a twisted male version of mothers who get jealous of their daughters.

All that to say, I'm terrified of articulating my ambitions because I fear the prospect of failing.

I've got a dream so big right now that I'm afraid to put it into words. I've got a dream so important to me I'm afraid to let others see it for fear that they won't understand. I'm starting the process of putting language and wheels to this ambition. I've made some amazing connections and the pieces are already falling into place, but the fear of failure can be debilitating at times.

I can however say this. Whatever my lot, whatever my course, I want to be known as one who sought to emulate Christ. If I could get to choose beyond that how I would be remembered it would be as one of those rare few who were both a practitioner and scholar of the Christian faith.

The recent death of John Stott catapults him to the top of the list for those who accomplished this. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, N.T. Wright, John H. Armstrong, Leslie Newbigin, J.I. Packer, Scot McKnight, are just some others who come to mind in more recent times.

The first man to exhibit this quality for me however, is a local hero by the name of Jim Ayers. He will forever be the O.G. of scholarly practitioners in my mind.

It really seems like people can't have both. For instance, I grow weary of folks who could be great servants of the Kingdom if they weren't exhausting all of their energy seeking acceptance in academic circles (shit, I think I just described myself!).

Likewise, those with scholarly minds who seek to be relevant strike me as disingenuous.

But if I could be only one, I would be the practitioner. I would much rather be a Mother Theresa than a... I could put a few names here but I guess it's best I don't drop names to describe who I don't want to be like.

Permit me to say that I hope I never allow myself to become an "ivory tower theologian". I never want to become a person who self soothes my soul by believing my relationship with Christ is in good standing because I can exegete the bible.

I'm learning to prefer Christ over recognition. If Jesus keeps at it, maybe I'll be okay with a life of obscurity. This way, I can relinquish my vision to others instead of selfishly and fearfully holding it inside.

Who knows, maybe we shall soon see an affordable, ecumenical institute in Lancaster which brings people together from various traditions and ethnicities to learn theology as practice, not abstraction. Maybe we'll see one of the first institutes that's an extension of the churches in its community.

When I grow up, I want to help mend the body of Christ in my community by offering... whatever it is I have to offer. If I could be a part of this, not alone but with my brothers and sisters, then that will be the day when I'm all "growed up"!

Why People Are Important

Now before you declare me to be captain obvious or state the lack of fecal matter to Sherlock Holmes, permit me to make my case as to why people are important.

First, even though I've found myself in disagreement with some of my blog readers I'm beginning to recognize the value of such discussion. There are many more folks who shrink from dialogue because they don't want to get sucked into an exhausting argument they feel can't be won. I'm discovering that these folks have a poor view of the value of relationships. I have always, perhaps in a utopian way, believed that a relationship means being committed to a person regardless of the circumstance(s). This has caused me to believe that no matter how much I disagree or how much I disapprove of someones behavior (or how much they disapprove of me at times) I know that our love in friendship or brotherhood is not in jeopardy. Though I may disagree, I am never left without the value of having been challenged to think and rethink, and often times change and grow (and I am convinced that this works both ways, no matter how adamant the other party appears).

I believe that people I disagree with are worth the discussion... because people are valuable.

Second, I watch this video and when the blur from the tears subside I see that people are important. I see how a relationship can change a life... A LIFE! It is unjust that there are some born into the world without the same opportunities to excel in society. It is tragic that there are those born into this world unwanted, uncared for or unloved. It is nothing short of a miracle that someone else would enter into that experience willingly, and offer to give of themselves.  

Finally, people are important and hold value not because I say they do. My declaration of someones worth holds little to no sway or pull. People are important because God cares. People have value because God loves them. The only way I know this is through his Son, who refused to disassociate himself from those who were not loved by others. I am learning this from his Son, who ministered to those whom society had forgotten. I am learning this from his Son who ushered in a way so foreign to the world that, athough it appears everywhere, it remains unseen.  I am learning it from his Son who gave himself over to death by the very same ones he came to save. In all of this he was never deterred from his task.

How am I learning it? From those whom belong to him - sometimes from those who serve the kingdom yet never bow their knee to the King. From those who love and give of themselves more than they love and give to themselves.

We have value, because he loves us. Because he loves us, we ought to give ourselves to those whom he loves. Jesus entered into our experience and gave of himself. Those who know him will do the same. I hope to God I will be numbered among them, and I hope you will join me in this ambition.

"A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act." - Gandhi

Why the Last Episode of "LOST" Totally sucked!

I began writing a blog to introduce why I both loved and loathed the show “Lost”. That introduction turned into a blog of its own which I posted yesterday. What I said of “Lost” was that:

"it was a show that sucked you into a world without answers. It was like being a part of early man, where existence and experience defied explanation and subsequently, definition. It took me to a time reminiscent of childhood where everything was new and was received with excitement and awe. It was a world of mystery. A world in which our paradigm no longer worked and a new paradigm had to be learned."

The great thing about “Lost” was the mystery. It was about the discovery and the process of learning. The characters had to learn why the island was there, how the island operated, and why they were on the island in the first place (purpose not plane crash). The exciting thing was that they did this process of discovery not autonomously but dependent upon one another… and then the ending came.

The last episode of “Lost” totally blew. Here’s why: 

It explained the mystery

As I said before, the key to the excitement of “Lost” was in its mystery. What happens when mystery itself is lost? There can no longer be reverence for that which is now defined. Richard Dawkins says that: "As ever when we unweave a rainbow, it will not become less wonderful." I'm not sure that's an accurate statement. I believe that the ancients held the rainbow in much more wonderment than do we, especially when they saw it as a covenant between themselves and their God. 

 I find a great deal of similarity between the disappointing explanations of the season’s finale with doing the task of theology. Christian theology in the West is done in such a way that we seek to define God, and in defining him we think we have come to know him.  

 Much like the reverence for the island was lost once an explanation was given by the show’s creators, we lose reverence for God believing that our theology has encapsulated him. We ought not think of ourselves as having mastered a theology but rather we ought to be mastered by the God of our theology.

 

In thinking about God, we ought always to remember that our source is inexhaustible and yet he has made himself known. God is mysterious and yet he is not distant. We must live in the tension of “knowing” the incarnate Jesus yet not being able to grasp him in his entirety.  

A Season of Life

Every season of life has its quirks which define it. Usually, you’re unaware that you’re in a particular season or chapter of life until time has passed. It is then that you realize all of the little things that are compiled to make a complete picture of a happier time.

The Beginning of the Story

This particular season had its beginnings on January 12^th, 2009. That was the day my grandmother passed away. I had spent two weeks prior to this date playing hospice nurse to her, a time which I am so thankful for.  Though my grandmother and I were already very close, I’m not sure there’s anything quite as intimate as being with someone while they’re dying. 

Getting to know a stranger

In those days I was only a couple weeks from having graduated from college and was unemployed. It was at my grandmother’s funeral that my step-father, Mike, came up to me and offered me a job at his place of employment. Hillside Custom Machining, Welding, and Fabricating was the name of the shop, and I woke up every morning at 4:30 AM to polish stainless steel, which my stepfather would then turn into machinery for a pharmaceutical company. 

This is an important part of the story, because up until this time Mike and I didn’t even so much as grunt to acknowledge each other’s presence. Our history would exceed the length of this blog many times over if I were to tell it in full. So during this magical season of life it was as if Mike and I were getting to know each other for the first time. Even though we had known each other for more than fifteen years, we lived as strangers in the same home until our time together in that shop. 

Radio 104.5

Mike always has the best stereo equipment around. If Mike has to be in a place for an extended period of time, you better believe that you’re going to be hearing some quality sound from a quality sound system. Being that we were so close to Philadelphia, Mike typically listened to one of the two rock stations in the area, but the one day he said something like “you’ll probably like this station better”, and tuned the radio to 104.5. They played the most amazing music, and I hardly ever heard commercials. For those of you who still listen to radio stations, do you know the anticipation you feel when a song ends and you hope the next song doesn’t suck? This station never failed to deliver the goods; song, after song, after song. This was the soundtrack of the season, but there was one particular band that I was introduced to that really defined it for me.

Muse

I’ve blogged about Muse before, but their music was so clever, beautiful, and righteously obstinate that I felt like I could change the world after every song I heard by them. I downloaded “Uprising” and I must have listened to it a hundred times. What else can I say? They’re amazing.

Lost

Another love affair began when Mike introduced us to the show “Lost”. Lost sucked you into a world without answers. It was like being a part of early man, where existence and experience defied explanation and subsequently, definition. It took me to a time reminiscent of childhood where everything was new and was received with excitement and awe. It was a world of mystery. A world in which our paradigm no longer worked and a new paradigm had to be learned. I’m going to blog about “Lost” again soon so I don’t want to say any more than that. Coming home from the newness and excitement of working with my step-father to watch an episode of Lost (and then another episode, and then another) with my wife made for some great days!

My Wife:

I sometimes forget to mention my wife when I tell stories. The honest reason for this is that I just couldn’t imagine my life without her. She is so much a part of me that perhaps I take it for granted that she’s always there, journeying with me. She’s been in every season of my life for more than six years. Even the bad seasons don’t seem as bad when I think about the times we spent together. Thank you, Amanda, for making life abundant and joyful.

I know I’m in a Season:

We all have a tendency to look back and think about days gone by with fondness. We tend to think that those days were better than today. I’m writing this not because I think those days were better, but because I’m becoming more aware of the seasons I’m currently in rather than seasons of the past. Sitting in my living room, sipping a gin and tonic, listening to Amanda play something on the piano in a minor key, reflecting on my day, I’m getting much better at defining seasons while I’m in them.

God has been good to me, and I just want to make sure that I’m thankful for these days sooner rather than later.

What are the characteristics of the season you’re in? People can be just as sentimental about your memories and experiences if you’re willing to tell your story. Please, share the signs of your seasons, I'd love to hear them.