Announcement!

Announcement: There are no jobs in Portland. There are no jobs here. There are no jobs anywhere. Not in a hat or in a mat, not in a house or with a mouse. There are no jobs here. What jobs there are are all taken by highly over qualified college graduates who are still working at Coffee shops because they love this town so much, which is kinda cool but kinda sad at the same time. Last night my cousin Trevor and his wife Sara had some friends over and we were talking about the current job situation. They are all yuppies with college degrees and still work at Starbucks. I never realized how shitty it was to find a job. I have spent the last three days filling out countless applications and walking miles (my bike is in the shop and the bus is expensive) to try to find some openings. All places say the same thing “We are not hiring, but we are accepting resumes.” “
“Oh good,” I respond. “I’m glad I didn’t walk halfway across town just to find out that you might actually be hiring.”
But otherwise life is good. Portland is steadily getting better, last night was fun. I met some chill people who came over to my cousins and we had a few beers and chillaxed. Everyone in this town is superchill. I met Dave, he writes grants for a non-profit; and I met Johnnie who has a screen printer and cool tattoos. I met Jamie who was the old boss of my only other friend here, Sara; while she worked at, guess where? Starbucks. Where I will most likely be working because I guess to get a decent job in this town you need what they call “connections.” My only other hope is a pizza joint downtown. Here I handed my resume to this kid with a Bob Marley t-shirt and dreadlocks that came down to his waist, to which he replied “Were not hiring, but it looks like your really qualified, man.” As he looked at my three page resume. Here was the only place where I felt overqualified and slightly embarrassed to be applying to. I applied at restaurants, and coffee shops, pizza places and book stores. All gave very little hope. At the worst I will be working at Starbucks with my cousin and maybe I can infiltrate it from the inside and bring down the man. Tomorrow I will spend my day filling out more applications, maybe in the Hawthorne or Belmont areas. At first I was really picky about what job I wanted but know I could give a crap. Hopefully I can get a job at this coffee shop called Grendel’s which is right across from the Imago Dei offices so that way I can make an impression on those people and start an internship as soon as possible.
This morning was my first Sunday at Imago. A woman named Heather spoke. She is the Women’s pastor and is from England so she has an English accent which makes me 10 times more interested in what she is saying than if just some normal American bloke was preaching. I plan on getting connected with one of the home communities here as well as with some homeless outreaches. I also might help with the jr. high group cause I forgot how much I miss working with overly hormonal, puberty going through, acne filled teenagers. It is weird not doing ministry full time but I plan on volunteering so much that the staff literally has to tell me to not show up. There are a thousand ways to get plugged in so that’s nice. But I do not have internet so it is frustrating trying to stay connected and get involved.
I really love this city but I also know that it is just a stage of my life. I want to be here for a year or two, learn as much as I can and enjoy life, but one day I will head east and join my friends as they storm the city of Denver.

Purgatory

I am in purgatory. No I am not catholic, nor do I actually believe in purgatory, but if there was one, it would be my current place of residence. I just moved from Denver to Portland in hopes of pursuing my dreams and finding my niche. I left a church where I was an integral player to a city where no one knows my name but three people. I went from having purpose, vision and meaning in my life to having absolutely no idea where I am or where I am going. I am back at square one. I just got off the phone with my friend Levi and we were talking about how we are both at a crossroads in our life. He is about to graduate college and will soon enter the “workforce.” He feels like he is supposed to do something great with his life but he has no idea what that will be once he graduates. I prematurely and accidentally graduated college yesterday. I can’t go to school here for a year because out of state tuition is too expensive, and I can’t intern at Imago for another year until I prove that I can hold down what they call a “job” and “volunteer” at the church.

So for a whole year I will literally just be working a normal 9-5 full time job. I will be in purgatory. I will not be advancing my career nor will I be building a future. I will be waiting for life to happen, which is why I was going to take a year off school in the first place. I am tired of waiting for my life to begin. I just want to snap my fingers and have my career and life set out before me. I don’t want to work dead end jobs to get there because I am not even sure if I will. I wish I had some sort of direction or path to follow but I am just living. I am thinking so much that I can’t even work on my book or advance myself through my writing. So I am in purgatory. But I have to be careful because as my friend Levi says if I do not settle down somewhere I will always have a year of buildup before I can do anything. Basically it comes down to whether or not I want to stay here for three years(1 year living, 2 years interning) and experience life at Imago Dei or go somewhere else.

But if I go somewhere else I will always be in purgatory because I will never allow enough time for buildup. Part of my problem is that I want so badly to live a great life that I will always be looking around for something that is “better.” I will always be moving around until something “clicks.” I thought that I would step off the plane and I would enter nirvana. I would get to Portland and I would feel at home. People would bring me cookies and pretty girls would run up to me and kiss me on the cheek saying “Welcome to Portland!” “You finally made it home!” Then everything would fall into place and I would have my life established in the magical city of the Northwest. I would never worry about anything and everything would just feel “right.” I realize I am using a lot of “quotes” around words but that is for emphasis. I have this strange feeling that no matter where I go I will always be looking for the next best thing. I will always be looking for greener grass and a land filled with milk and honey. But I also have a strange feeling that I will never find this place. In fact I am almost guaranteed that I will never find this place because moving here is almost proof of it. I am scared of missing out on life. I am scared that I will live never have the perfect adventurous life. I am scared that after all my years on this earth I will look back and not have anything to show for it. Because of this I am frantically trying to save my life. I am anxious and worried running the streets in search of the “perfect” life. The problem with this is that will never commit to anything because I will always be looking for something else.

Portland is not that great. Neither is Denver. Neither is New York City, As long as I look at life through my utopian lens I will never be fulfilled. There will be problems everywhere I go. There will never be a place on this earth where I can hang like floatie toy in the pool, drinking margaritas without a care in the world. Everywhere I search for life I will never find it because life happens. There will always be shitty jobs and crappy bosses. There will always be something that looks better. Nothing will ever be perfect. I hope for life and am always disappointed. My favorite book in the bible is Ecclesiastes. It is by far the most relevant book in the bible. It feels so true. Everything is a circle. You will do nothing that hasn’t been done before. Everything you build has the potential to be destroyed by those who come after you. There is futility in indulgence, in work, in riches. Everything is vanity.

Portland Day 2

Right now I am sitting at the Portland Coffehouse in downtown Portland. What I am doing here I am not sure. I mean I am writing, but I have no idea why I am in Portland. Yesterday and today I wandered her streets aimlessly looking for something, what I’m not sure. The only three people I know here have their own daily lives and jobs and so right now I am as an apparition that walks the avenues. I looked for a few jobs but the idea of only working full time and neither doing school part time work nor part time ministry sounds horrible. I am suffering from community withdrawal as I move from living with 20 people to talking to myself. The adventure part is fun, not knowing what exactly I am doing, but the whole living with no purpose fuckin sucks. I am honestly questioning my decision to move out here. As of right now I know for sure that I will be back in Denver someday, there is no doubt in my mind. The only thing I am excited about is having money for tattoos. So at the very least I’ll come back to Denver tatted up the Wu tang. It is hard moving somewhere because you have to establish credibility. In Denver I was respected as a person and a leader, but now I have to start all over again. There is no one I can talk honestly with because I do not know anyone well enough to start sharing my feelings with them without them thinking I am overly emotional and in need of serious psychological attention. So that is why I talk to my computer like all the other modern, lonely people out there. Who knows maybe I will find some purpose out here, some reason to live and maybe a few relationships but right now the horizon looks very dim.

It actually isn’t that bad. Last night I went to this thing called Last Thursday and it is a huge street/arts fair that takes up 25 blocks on Alberta street. I have never seen so many hippie crafts and strange looking people. It is sadly disappointing that I do not stand out here, because everyone else here has tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and relatively the same worldview. It was really fun though, I met a lot of really cool people and was very visually stimulated. Everyone here is really nice so that’s always good. I thought I would enjoy having free time and no responsibilities but it more or less just makes me anxious because I am not sure what to do with myself. I’m sure things will improve once I get a job (it will probably be a shitty one though) and start volunteering at Imago. Until then I guess I am just going to write a lot and try to enjoy life.

Adieu

Today I depart on flight 3053 from Denver to Portland. My chain-smoking friend Cortland just dropped me off at the airport and we bid adieu. I am leaving my residence of 20 years to find that which I am seeking. What it is I do not know, I only know that I need to find it. Perhaps I am leaving my home here for a new one in the rainy Northwest. Or perhaps I am leaving my home here to return again. I am filled with wanderlust and a restless heart. Sad to leave my friends at the Journey, but excited to set out on the next voyage of my life. My ship sails at 6:40 a.m. and I will arrive in Portland at 9:40 at my new place of habitation. There is a certain something to leaving. Leaving to find what you are looking for. Leaving for vacation, for rest. Leaving in order to appreciate home. I believe it is Ralph Waldo Emerson who says that all of life is about finding your way home, or it could have been someone else but the idea is what matters. Behind are my family and friends. Ahead are my heart and my hope of life. I refuse to be someone who lives his life looking over his shoulder wishing he would have taken risks and not settled for the bare minimum. I refuse to live a static life. But I also know that one day I will have to quit my travels in order to build a life, to start a home. Part of my leaving is geography, but I also know that what I am looking for will always be right here. There will come a time when I will have to “settle down” and stop looking and start building. I will have to decide “here is where I make my stand,” but not today. Today is a day of leaving. I am uncertain about what the future holds, but God has never let me down so far in life and I don’t expect him to in the future. Every scene of my life has been more than blessed and I have no doubt that what awaits me in Portland will be a good thing. The thing about following God is that there is no geography involved, only relationship, and that will never leave.

I honestly have no idea if I will be back or not. I figure it is a 50/50 chance. One year from now I will either be interning at Imago Dei or back in Denver starting a church with my friends. But who knows, maybe I’ll get an offer from Abercrombie and Fitch to be their next model for the 2009 summer calendar. Or maybe I’ll become an astronaut. Who knows. Part of this is about finding out what I want to do. I know who I am. But I’ not sure what I want to do. I know that I want to write and do ministry and that’s about it. I guess I can do that anywhere but I’m still looking for something. Perhaps my friend Mike is right and I am only looking for some Utopia that doesn’t exist. But at least this way ill know for sure that it does not. I have to do this, I’m not sure why. I can’ really explain it. But I need to go. Even if it’s just so I can come back.
I think part of me is scared that I might miss out on living and so I have a tendency to move around and live and see everything.

But I also know that living is less about traveling than it is about relationships. I think it is the curse of modernity. In the past people would stay their whole lives and never leave within three miles of their house and you could not say that they didn’t live a full life. But now we have modern technology, planes, trains and automobiles. There is so much to do and so much information and experience out there that it is a curse for people like me who want to see and do it all. Because I will never be able to. You would think machines and robots would give us less stress and less work but I think it actually creates more anxiety for the modern man. There are too many options, too much out there. It is overwhelming. There are literally a billion paths to take for the Western, modern man. I think others who don’t have these options might actually be happier because they have less freedom. They are forced to make their life good rather than searching for something that will “click.” But my computer is dying as I fly over the Rocky Mountains and I have to pee like a mofo so this goes out to all my friends at the Journey whom I am already missing.

Marlboro Fences

Sometimes I bitch too much about being a Christian. Mostly because I have been in the forest for so long that I only see the trees. But every so often, I feel by spirit leaving me and lifting to the sky. I see the great forest, filled with animals, waterfalls, and green vegetation. Today my spirit left me for a bit.

I was trying to make some money so that I could move out to Portland, so I posted on craigslist to try and get some work. I posted this ad: “STUDENT WILL DO ANYTHING FOR $15 AN HOUR,” and hoped that a man named Buffalo Bill would not hire me to rub his feet. This morning I was woken up with a call to come and tamp fence posts. If you have never done this, you should try it some time, you are grossly missing out on some very sore shoulders. You take a hollowed out pole that is about two feet long with handles on both sides. One side is closed and the other is open. You take this tamper and place the open end over the top of a metal fence post. Then, you bring the tamper up and slam it back down on the post, driving it into the dusty earth. The man who hired me was named Bruce and he needed 50 of these slammed into the ground. I was way out towards Bennet, which is basically a small, farming town half an hour from Denver on the eastern plains. I would describe the town in more detail, but that is all there really is to say about it.

I met Bruce and another guy there and they ran a small fencing business, no, not the fencing that involves swords, the fencing that involves hammers and wire and does not require white suits with beekeeper masks. Both of these guys were in their early 50’s, pot bellies and kinda bitter. Every other word they said rhymed with the word duck and started with an f. I listened to them complain about work, traffic, women, employers, employees, the weather and so on. Just a side note, I have to say that I felt pretty bad ass today. Working on a fence out in a flat, dusty, field, listening to southern hardcore while chain smoking Marlboros with my two employers. It was somewhat manly, somewhat redneck, and somewhat cowboyish. I have never met the Marlboro man, but I think he might have looked like one of these guys, maybe a little thinner though and with more teeth. As I listened to them, my spirit left me. It was one of those times when my heart broke for two old ranchers/contractors who lived with little meaning or purpose in their lives, angry at the cards life had dealt to them. Bitter against the government, lonely without wives.

And I saw the forest. I remembered just how terribly dark and dry life can be without this great hope that I have. I may not know all the answers, and I may not be the happiest or most put together person I know, but I have this belief that I am more than just a robot, that life has purpose, life has meaning. I wanted to share this with them. To tell them that there is more to life, that this world is not all there is. I wanted to tell them that they matter to God and they mattered to me, but I wasn’t sure how to pull this off without sounding like the weirdo’s they saw on T.V. Sometimes I struggle with Christianity, but I also know God, and today was one of the few times(sadly) I felt tremendous joy for having the privilege to know God, to have purpose, to have meaning.

Weak Part Deux(Im not sure if deux means two or ten but whatever neither do you)

So class after class I would keep thinking to myself, “This is so far from the truth. That is not what it’s about.” The Jesus I know is not the one I learned about in philosophy. The Christianity I know is not just about hell, fire and brimstone. It is not just about moral guidelines and incessant, irrelevant rules. It easy to understand why someone would not want to be a Christian. I wouldn’t want to be one either if all I heard of Christianity was from the people I saw on television and the religion I heard about in class.

As I sat in class I heard about how the people who believed in this God were foolish and ignorant, ascribing their superstition to some deity high up in the sky. Religion was based on men’s fears of the unknown. Spinoza says that men are wavering, weak, and confused and turn to God in the madness and distress of life. Nietzsche claimed that morality was the weak person’s way of enslaving the strong. If you could not beat a strong person through power or strength, than developing a system of morality would be a way to simultaneously praise the weak for their virtuous humility, while chastising the strong for their drive. Morality then was developed from what Nietzsche called the “slave morality” where morals were enforced on the “noble class” or the strong. It was revenge upon the aggressors, the lords, those who held power over the weak. Morality was born out of resentment of the strong and religion as well. It’s kind of like challenging Kobe to chess because you know you can’t beat him in basketball. Nietzsche firmly believed that until we declared the death of God, humanity could not be redeemed. Marx called religion the “opiate of the masses,” it was a drug for the lowly to put their weight on in the cruelty of life.

Christianity was a religion for the weak, a crutch for those who couldn’t do life on their own. It was a way to cope with fear of the unknown, a way to stomach the harshness of life. At first I wanted to refute these statements. But then I stopped, because I think it could be partly true.
It is a hard thing to swallow when others call you weak, when your beliefs are seen as mere coping mechanisms to deal with pain and suffering, but what if it’s true? What if I am only a Christian because I am scared? What if I am scared of a world without order, without meaning? What if I follow religion simply to make me feel better about myself? Maybe I am weak. Maybe I am needy. Maybe I am ignorant. Maybe I am scared.
It is a hard thing to swallow when someone tells you your faith is “Fine, if you need that type of thing.” As if they are doing just fine in life and it’s just too bad that you can’t do it on your own.

It is a very scary thing to think that I could be wrong.

That I could be an ignorant fool. That the faith I have followed for so many years is nothing but superstition. That the God I seek, is no more real than man-bear-pig (which I guess is pretty real if you talk to Al Gore.) That the times I have felt Him are nothing more than chemical impulses, neurons and protons. That this Jesus guy was nothing more than a good teacher, with ideas no more unique than Socrates or Nostradamus. I hope, I pray that this is not true, but what if. What if it is all a lie. What if we humans are nothing more than random particles in an infinite universe, no more unique than algae or Dial soap. What if God is nothing more than a grown up invisible friend? I’m not sure how to deal with these what if’s. I guess that is where faith comes in. A faith that believes in the unbelievable, in the unseen. A faith that believes that I am more than matter and DNA. That I have a soul, a spirit. That yes, I am weak, but aren’t we all? And yes, I do need others. I would rather use God as a crutch with the hope that he is there, than stand on my own, with no hope at all. If Christianity is a drug, than I’d rather smoke it three times a day, than live a life with no purpose or meaning. I figure I have a 50/50 chance that God exists, and I figure I would rather spend my life serving some invisible ghost in the belief that there is something bigger than me, than spend mortal hours worshipping myself. I am okay with the fact that I am weak, that I am not okay, that I need a purpose, a reason to live. I am okay that I may always look like Elmo compared to the independent George Clooney’s( I am not dissing George here, I am merely stating that often times being a Christian earns you about as much respect as Elmo compared to George Clooney. On a side note, George Clooney is one of my friends top man crush’s. No, he’s not gay, but if he was…George Clooney could sail on his Ocean’s Eleven.)

I am okay with not being solely independent, with depending on others and God to help me make it through life without punching toddlers.

Weak

There have been few times where I’ve felt like an absolute idiot for believing what I do. One of these times was in a philosophy class. It was Philosophy of Religion at CU Denver. Cu Denver is located on the metro campus in the heart of downtown Denver right next to the Pepsi center where the Avalanche and Nuggets play. It is the sister of the yuppie, trustafarian CU in Boulder. We were reading Nietzsche at the time and for those of you who haven’t read him, he pretty much claimed the death of God. He held great contempt for Christianity, and wanted to create a new moral world order without the idea of God polluting our thought processes.

I like Nietzsche. I disagree with almost everything he said, but the dude had some balls. Other philosophers sort of hinted at the possibility that maybe we should rethink the God thing but Nietzsche just came right out and threw down the hammer. Now I have to say that even though most philosophy classes supposedly bash Christians and get accused of being secular, liberal and lost by conservative Christians, I agreed with most of their bashing. I never got offended because the gospel they presented as Christianity was not the gospel that I ascribed to.

Whenever a professor went off on a small rant about God, it was not the God I knew. The God I know did not create a religion based on guilt. The God I know does not will for bad things to happen. He is not some cruel, angry parent nor is he an ancient, caveman concept. The God I know willed a perfect world and a relationship with us and it was good…for about a day. Then it all went to hell because this guy named Adam and this girl named Eve had a weird fetish for fruit. Ever since then though, the God I know has been trying to redeem the mess created by us.
The Christians they described in my philosophy class made me sick. It was as if someone was describing an encounter with your crazy uncle and they thought you were similar because you both hailed from the same family, and all you can do is shake your head and try and convince them that you are really nothing like your uncle. The problems they had with Christians were the same problems that I had. Very close-minded people, judgmental, self-righteous and yes, often times very ignorant. Through class after class I would hear about an angry God that only cared about obedience to some ancient, out of date, ritualistic type of morality. I would hear about a God who kept people in cages of rules and morals. A God who cared only about rule following. A Bible that was for the sole purpose of moral instruction. A Jesus who was nothing more than a good teacher. Christianity was shackles to the feet of the intellectual, the free, and the independent. It was a system of symptomatology. Meaning that Christianity was a symptom of an even greater sickness, weakness. A sigh of the oppressed, a coping mechanism. How could the strong buy into such a system of humility, selflessness and powerlessness? How could the intellectual and the scientific but into such a system of mysticism and faith with no rational basis? How could the independent chain themselves to a system of interdependence and dependence on God and others. It was because of these things that Christianity is symptomatology.

Problems

Problems
I have a few problems with Christianity. Not God or Jesus ( although they confuse me on multiple occasions) but the people who claim to follow them. Christians, as they are called in the common tongue. Christianity is their religion and the Bible their handbook. They can be found on Sunday mornings, in some sort of structure, usually built out of wood. Some of these structures are small houses. Others resemble college campus’ complete with waterfalls and escalators. These structures are located all over the world, and contain people of all different races and ages. And I have a few problems with some of them. Before I go any further though, I should let you know that most of my problems stem out of conservative, evangelical, American Christianity. This is what I grew up in and what I know. I am a very judgmental person myself but even so, I will avoid passing judgment on denominations or sects of Christianity I do not know. So most of the time when you hear me referencing the word Christian, know that it is this particular group. If you are a conservative, evangelical, nationalistic American, than you’ll have to forgive me as well for my judgments, but take solace in the fact that I am probably not talking about you. So let us proceed with my problems, my frustrations, and (unfortunately) my judgments.
It is hard to write criticism on something or someone’s flaws because a) I am a hypocrite( I eat organic, all natural food, championing my abstinence from placing chemicals, or preservatives in my body from fast food…all while smoking a cigarette.) And b) I am ironically, inescapably, contradicting myself by judging Christians who judge others. But oh well. Let’s get on with the judgment!
Judgment
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt this, or seen this, but Christians can be very judgmental. Perhaps it was my dyed hair or my sleeping with the church secretary (just kidding ), but I always felt like I was living under a microscope. Every action of mine felt watched by an unseen crowd of silent judges who gave me disapproving glances like I was being too loud in the library. I would hear grunts of disapproval even while I slept and felt a need to please everyone. I still feel this tremendous burden in my life to never disappoint anyone or do anything that could possibly make them angry at me. Most Christians are very passive-aggressive type people, so instead of confronting me about who I was, they would let me know that I didn’t quite measure up to their standard with their silent words and holy eyes. Now, not to be overly dramatic and emo, because the church I grew up in was better than most, but I never felt good enough. I never felt accepted for who I was. It was only an acceptance of my potential to be a good Christian. There was always more to do. More rules and commandments to live by, more notches to add to my spiritual belt of righteousness. There was a huge emphasis on doing. Do this, don’t do that, no, no, no, that’s bad, stay away from those people, don’t drink this, don’t watch that, you are an evil person and so on. In Christianity there is this silent code of judgment, no one talks about it, but it’s there. Like the creatures in M. Night Shymalan’s The Village, those we don’t speak of.
But everyone judges people whether we want to admit it or not. Every time you meet someone for the first time or see someone walk into your circle of friends, you have a thought that usually goes something like this: “Wow, they are really annoying” or “What horrible fashion taste” or “I’m better looking than them.” It’s inescapable in Christianity and in the world, but the problems with a Christians judgment is that it also has ryder bills like “ I don’t appreciate your lifestyle and also you are probably going to go to hell” or “I am better than you because I am a Christian and I am going to heaven and your not so haha,” as they stick their tongue out like girls in the 4th grade. It’s a self-righteous sort of judgment which is the worst kind. But the judgment I experienced within the church was nothing from what judgment I saw between the church and the world.
It was very battle oriented. People used terms such as drawing sides, battling for souls, conquering, war, enemies, fire, taking ground, winning, losing etc. There were us Christians and then there was the world. Supposedly the world was trying to corrupt our youthful minds through MTV, and R-rated movies. The world was evil and we were good. Everyone in the world was considered lesser than those of us who knew the way. The world was filled with homosexuals, abortionists, whores, rockers, and smokers. We were not to associate with them and our mission was to tell them that they were sinners and the judgment of Christ was coming. It was our mission to tell people that they were going to hell if they did not accept Jesus as their personal lord and savior. It was our job as Christians to picket abortion clinics and go to anti-gay rally’s.
Basically it was our job to judge the world. I found it terribly ironic because we were supposed to be the ones who were forgiven, who could also forgive others and pass on this very inclusive, gift of love to everyone. But instead we took God’s grace and became the bouncers to our heavenly, Roxbury style, club. We put up huge billboards condemning the world for its actions, and held our picket signs high.

Spiritually Knocked Up

One of my favorite movies is Knocked Up. The first time I watched a Judd Apatow movie I realized that it was possibly the funniest, most brilliant combination of meaning, truth and crude humour that I had ever seen. Knocked Up is about a one night stand between a lazy, chubby, irresponsible slob and a girl who is a high class T.V. show host. The girl finds out a few weeks later that she is pregnant, thus spurning a unique relationship between two opposite people who band together to do the best for their situation. The movie is all about working through the struggles of relationship. It delves into the ideas of abortion, marriage, kids and growing up; and yes, it has some sex in it, and some crude jokes. It is not the most "Christian" movie you will ever watch. But it has more to say about relationships than watching an hour of Oprah.

So I really liked this movie, but I forget that Christians have this perpetual ban or mental block on appreciation for anything that is "Secular". So when I would tell others about my like of this movie, they could not get past the the coarseness of the content. Yes, there is a lot of it, but why in Christianity, does there have to be this idea that nothing in the secular realm has anything of value, anything worth watching, discussing or dialoging about? This movie has so much to say about what it means to be human, about the human condition and the messiness of relationships in real life. It deals with the real issues of abortion and marriage.

The creators and writers of this movie were also the ones who made The 40 year Old Virgin, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and Superbad. All of these movies are brilliant because they have beautiful meanings hidden behind a superficial context of humour and more often than not, coarse humour. In The 40 Year Old Virgin a guy decides to wait to have sex until he is married. In Knocked Up they decide to keep their mistake. Superbad is all about friendship and th awkwardness of high school. The first time I watched one of these movies I was astounded by the dynamic contrast of great moral messages and the erroneously crude, but funny material. At first I was a bit offended, but as the movie continued I saw that this was not the typical rude, bathroom humour, crude for crudities sake movie. I learned more about life from this movie than any other this year. My friend Cortland honestly says that it changed his life. He says the movies are both funny and heartwarming.

I feel like a lot of Christians dismiss anything that is not overtly religous. If a song or a movie has a cuss word in it, than it probably isn't worth watching. But I see God in these movies. I see God in the broken, fractured lives of the characters in Knocked Up. I see meaning in the friendship of two people struggling to make life work. If you believe in the Kingdom, is there really such a thing as secularism? If you believe in God, than honestly, where is God not?