Saturday, March 26, 2011

Eastridge Church - Issaquah, WA - March 26th 2011

       What is worship? Is this blog a ministry (is it helping anyone or is it a journal only)?

      The reason I bring these points up is because of my experience today. First worship, I realize now why I'm so drawn to the dirges and the silence...it's in the those places where the words of the music have their strongest meaning and bring the greatest reflection for me. At Eastridge their is a stage, and how it's set up is akin to concert stage. There is white drapery that turned multi-colored by the lights, their is the base, rock and roll music and a catchy tune at all times during the songs of worship. They still come off as love songs to God, which I think are the point...but I find it's easy for me to get lost in the rhythms, they are the ones I hear on the radio and in the process the words can be lost in the experience.
     I wished I could have talked to the people about it...what do others experience when the music plays? Do they have the same questions as me?
     Most of the service was music. This is why the question came up. I missed the sermon because I had to pick up my little sister, but the Pastor has been going through John leading up to Easter...but it felt like the music was an escape, though it could in fact be an inspiration.

      I talked to older woman today. She was really sweet and is in charge of the youth group. She was able to give me the history of Eastridge (there was a falling out with a Pastor in the West Seattle Campus at one point, but the West Seattle campus asked to rejoin and is now a part of the main campus again). Eastridge also was once a smaller building before the large Mars Hill like (in technology, music, diversity). There old building is now a youth center and may be a Christian School someday.
      I told her about my visiting other churches and talked her about life, being graduated, being on the Newman Choir and planning on teaching English in China. She told me of the ministries at Eastridge I could get involved in...

    I don't know if I could though. If I was I wouldn't be doing this blog, there wouldn't be faith visits. I need to find a way to get involved volunteerwise to help in the community, and perhaps I could do that through Eastridge on Wednesdays...but Sundays, and weekends are the weekends of exploration. Those weekends are when I share my experiences with everyone and what I discover and learn.

   Is that a ministry though? Am I helping anyone with this blog? This blog is an exploration, but I hope it's more then that and I need to do what I can to make it more then that. It's about the messages of the faiths, the experiences, and most of all the people (which sadly some of my posts lack), and recently letting others tell their story from their own words, not from discussions I've had with them, as well as my experience with all these things. Is it a ministry though? Should it be a ministry?

   Part of what it means to be human, to be a writer, to live, is to grow...and I hope this blog has grown, but I feel it can grow in ways I'm not aware of. 

   That's the question I don't know, and I would love to hear your thoughts on.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

First Guest Post from my friend Mark - Part 1

     Hey all. Just as a heads up, anyone who is interested in sharing their story in regards to their own religious path or exploration of faith, if you want me to, I will share your story.This is the first guest post on the Religious Outsider Blog. One of the greatest things that has come out of this blog is growing closer to the community I'm a part of. Whether it's hearing peoples stories after they've read the blog, or talking to people about one of the religious communities I visited. I wouldn't trade any of those moments and I am so grateful for all that has come out of this exploration. Here is my friend Mark's first post. I hope you all enjoy!

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Let me preface this by saying that I have the utmost respect for Cameron, for trying his hardest to understand the world's religions with an open mind, and for consistently taking action on a personal project.

As a personal favor to the man who paid for my entire university education, I agreed to be baptized in his faith at a southern church in a town in which I knew no one. Both my parents and two of my grandparents had been baptized this way.

During a hymn intercession, the preacher in the church, which was completely devoid of any of that idolatrous Catholic symbolism, including a even a single crucifix, said in his Tennessee drawl, "If any of you feel the call to BAPTISM, come forward NOW!"

Though I looked towards my neighbors in the pews, they stared dutifully at their large print hymn books, so as not to pressure me. I nervously went forward, as I had vowed two weeks earlier.

I sat in the front row. The preacher and one elder sat there and asked me "now boy, do you have any SEEENS you want to confess to? (sins)"

I blurted out "intellectual vanity."

Perplexed, he asked me to elaborate. "Well how do you figure?"

"Umm, I thought that if only I could educate myself enough then I could do without faith or Christ, because I would be able to understand things well enough on my own."

After asking later, I was told that normal answers were "drinkin', gamblin', fornicatin', lyin', stealin'..."

I was brought to a back room, changed into a too-small poncho/dress, and told to take off my underwear. "You don't want it to get wet, now do you?"

The preacher met me again onstage, because apparently there was a hot tub always at the ready bubbling behind the pulpit. He had a grin on his face like I couldn't believe.

"Now relax boy, I haven't lost one yet!" he whispered in my ear, and I swear he could have winked.

There were some quotations about fulfilling all righteousness (The reason why Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, and something that to this day I fail to understand)

I was dunked in the hot tub, but was unable to take the Lord's Supper in a timely fashion because I really had to piss.

I ran back after locating the large church's bathroom, but taking the Lord's Supper solo and without an audience lacked the same spiritual oomph.

Afterwords, every single member of the congregation hugged me and offered me their daughters in marriage (only half joking).

CUT FORWARD ONE YEAR