I made my connections, at Amsterdam Centraal Station and in Alkmaar, by less than a minute, each.  The public transportation system was crowded and busy, a typical Friday afternoon.  Slightly out of breath, standing, swaying with a too-large-for-the-seated-section load of luggage, I found myself cruising through the flat, green pastures of Noord-Holland in a big green bus -- headed towards the village of Groet.  Just off to our left, the rolling hills and trees of the Schoorlse Duinen (a nature preserve, built around a network of massive sand dunes) appeared.  My friend Sokol and I were chatting about the weekend ahead of us -- a special Home Group Leaders Retreat -- with 25 of us from Zolder50 converging on a large group house right at the edge of the dunes.  We were looking forward to the extended, relaxed time with our extended spiritual family.

And then the bus driver turned around in his seat and shouted that the bus would not be stopping in Schoorl "because of a big fire."  Instead, he pulled over to the side of the highway and let out all the passengers bound for that destination; they would have to walk the last couple of kilometers to Schoorl.  We didn't think too much of the situation, since we weren't headed for the town of Schoorl itself -- but rather the next town beyond it, Groet.  But then, the bus entered a thick haze of smoke.  The smell filled the bus.  Over the ridge of forested dunes off to our left, we could see billowing clouds of smoke rising into the air and quickly swirling towards us, carried by a stiff wind from the other side of the dunes.  A fire truck passed us, lights and sirens clearing the way.  And then another fire truck.  And another.  And another.  The traffic slowed.

Most of the rest of the passengers just watched and took in the scene, like us; some talked on their mobile phones or typed out text messages on their miniature mobile-phone keyboards.  Gradually, the gravity of the situation became more apparent.  It wasn't just "a big fire."  It was a massive wild-fire, roaring through the nature preserve, fueled by high winds and a dry summer.  It was totally out of control -- like what you hear about in the western USA, or in Spain or Greece.  Dutch authorities almost never have to deal with such situations, living in a generally well-watered land filled primarily with pastures or buildings.  But they were doing their best to throw their full force into fighting the fire; we later heard that over 80 fire-fighting units had been called in from all over the region.  And it was around that time that we were told that the bus would not be going through Groet anymore either.  Like in Schoorl, we were instead let off along the side of the highway -- with no other option but to walk the last few kilometers to our destination with all our luggage and everything.  But Sokol and I were able to laugh about it.  We walked along the cow pastures and watched the smoke billowing off to the south.  Eventually, a kind-hearted stranger stopped and offered us a ride, which we gratefully accepted.  She gave us a few more pieces of information about the fire, and when we finally reached our destination we heard still more about the situation from the reception workers at the place where we were staying.  It turned out that the fires were truly of historic proportions (at least for the Netherlands).  Several of the neighboring villages were being evacuated, although Groet (where we were staying) was not, because it was up-wind, away from the direction of the fires.  Even so, everyone in the area was on high-alert, and police roadblocks had been set up to divert all traffic (except fire-fighters' vehicles) from the area.

Around that time, I decided that I needed to send a text message to the rest of our home group leaders who were en-route, or about to depart for the weekend.  I wrote:

Massive wildfires in Schoorl. No public transport past Alkmaar. My advice is to stop where you are right now and await further instruction. Call if you have further questions. - Eric

As it turned out, four women were already on their way.  Eva and Naomi were traveling together, with most of our food for the weekend.  Mirjam and Suzy were traveling separately, by public transportation.  They were all having incredible difficulty getting through.  But as we continued to monitor the situation, it seemed reasonable to send another text message to the home group leaders:

Fires still not contained, but Groet is not in danger. Transport to Alkmaar normal, but last 11 km are difficult. Buses stop 2-4 km from Groet (and then you walk). Taxis can get you closer, but traffic is bad. Food should still make it on time. But feel free to decide for yourself (even if it means waiting until tomorrow morning). - Eric

Ironically, just after sending that second text message, the winds dramatically shifted, putting Groet down-wind from the fire.  Within a few minutes, the level of fear and panic spiked among the area's residents.  Looking over the tree-tops to the south, we could see thick plumes of smoke coming up from the forest.  Not just the broad, vague, grayish haze of smoke which has dissipated and drifted on the wind from miles away -- but actual, dark black and bright white, clearly defined clouds of smoke curling just above the treetops, a very short distance from where we were staying.  At one point, the horses in the field directly adjacent to where we were staying starting running wildly in circles, jumping and bucking -- evidently sensing the immediate danger.  And I have to admit, I got scared at that point.  I went back inside and packed up my bags again, so I could be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Around this same time, Mirjam (who had helped with some of the main organization for the weekend) managed to make it to the house, having walked the last 4 or 5 kilometers from where the bus had let her off.  But we still hadn't heard much from Suzy.  And Naomi and Eva (along with all our food) were basically stuck in Alkmaar.

The weekend was off to a horrible beginning.

Eventually, the wind shifted back in our favor, and the immediate danger again subsided.  But I kept busy for the rest of that afternoon and evening, trying to keep in communication with other individuals and groups of people making their way from Amsterdam to Groet.  After the fact, I counted the totals:  58 phone calls and 81 text messages.  I had left Amsterdam with my mobile phone on full battery power, fresh off the charger (usually quite enough to last for two or three days); by ten o'clock that evening, my phone was dead.

But in spite of all the craziness, our people started figuring out ways to get to Groet, ways of working together, ways to creatively solve the problems.  Sokol, Mirjam, and I prayed together.  In Alkmaar, my wife and kids, travling with our friend Linda, just so happened to hook up Marjan, Sunita, Steven, Joleth, and Leslie at the train station.  Marc, Heidi, and Elora (traveling by car) separately met up with Jen and Jurren (who had taken the train to Alkmaar).  Eva and Naomi had developed a "Plan B" to travel by taxi.  Suzy had made friends with a random stranger on the bus, who freely loaned her a bicycle to travel through the smoke and chaos between Schoorl and Groet.

And piece by piece, we all started reassembling in Groet.  Suzy pedalled through thick, black smoke and pouring rain (one of God's answers to our prayers!) -- arriving out-of-breath, soaked-to-the-bone, and smelling strongly of smoke.  Eva and Naomi arrived (with the food) after two hours in the taxi, along with some help from a kind reception worker who volunteered to help with ferrying them for the last mile or two past the point where the police blockades would not let any outside vehicles through.  We were even able to enjoy a nice dinner together -- with just six of us (instead of the originally planned-for 25) -- sitting by the window and watching the fire trucks whiz by, watching the helicopters dumping sea-water onto the flames, fielding more calls and more text messages from those who were still on their way...

It turned out that the large group out of Alkmaar -- including the rest of my family -- had been dumped off in Schoorl (a full 5 kilometers away from Groet), and they had to walk the rest of the way (carrying all their bags) over the polder.  The kids were exhausted by the time they arrived.  But just before dark, they all made it.  Hugs and kisses and stories were freely exchanged as everyone poured into the house.  At about a quarter to ten that night, we finally heard from the car-load of people out of Alkmaar -- who had been turned back time and time again, and were just about to give up for the night about 2 kilometers from their final destination.  But because they had the rest of the food for the weekend, and they didn't want to leave us high and dry, they helped us to figure out where they were -- and Sokol and I figured out a crazy plan to transport the rest of the groceries by bicycle using (temporarily-)stolen bicycles that we had found by the reception (desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess!).  Jen and Jurren actually decided to walk the rest of the way from the car's end-point, together with me, Sokol, and the heavily-laden stolen bicycles.  Unfortunately, Marc, Heidi, and Elora decided that they needed to give up for the night -- promising to try again in the morning.  But, miracle of miracles, as I was returning the (temporarily-)stolen bicycles, they just so happened to pass right in front of us, having mysteriously found a way through after all!  It was a crazy evening.

Late on Friday evening, we all sat in the living room and shared stories about our day's adventures.  We laughed and laughed.  We re-lived each others' astonishments and dramatic twists.  And about a half-hour before midnight, Martijn knocked on the window -- the last of the day's sojourners -- also having made it through via public transport / walking.  Michaël and Eline wouldn't join us until the following morning.  But amazingly, we all made it through.  And boy, did we have some great stories to tell.

The weekend was off to a glorious beginning.

*     *     *     *     *

For the record, there are also some pictures available of the actual weekend retreat in Groet (some beautiful shots, if I do say so myself, of our extended "spiritual family" here in Amsterdam).  In case you're interested, you can view them in the Zolder50 Pictures section of the website.

We're in the middle of a very special get-away with a group of leaders from Zolder50 -- off in the quaint North-Holland village of Groet, nestled among the celebrated Schoorl dunes along the shore of the North Sea. It's a really special group of people, and I trust that our time together this weekend will prepare us for a fantastic new season of ministry...

But it also just so happens that our get-away has coincided with an historic wildfire in Schoorl -- only a few kilometers from where we're staying. We've managed to stay out of danger, but we've definitely had some adventures (especially in getting to the house where we're staying). I hope to share more stories later... But for now, it's just good to let any Amsterdam readers who might be interested know that the regular plans for the weekend are continuing. Nothing's stopping a weekend like this!

It's been a tough day.  A couple of conversations within the last 24 hours have left me feeling pretty sad.  In spite of my best efforts, I've caused disappointment and frustration.  Even in those areas where I feel like I've tried the hardest, I find I've come up short.  One person -- for whom I've invested 30 or 40 hours of (volunteer) manual labor -- literally called me up just to say how disappointed she is in me.  No exageration.  She probably used that word -- "teleurgesteld" -- six or seven times throughout the course of her two-and-a-half minute voicemail.  Sheesh.  What am I supposed to do with that?

In addition to these specific conversations, I just feel the accumulated weight of disappointment and anger and anxiety from numerous other individuals within the church I lead.  I know that they're just being spiritual "sheep" -- and such is what comes of a life spent "shepherding."  But how can I stand up under it?!?  I wonder:  Who's supposed to be shepherding me?!?

And then, I'm reminded of the best and brightest words of comfort that have ever been spoken:

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

What is the best word for a building that was formerly used (and originally designed) as a church space -- but has now been repurposed for some other use?  A church?  A former church?  A church shell?  A church carcass?  Perhaps the last term sounds a bit strong -- but I wonder if it might actually be the most accurate description, theologically-speaking.  We'd probably all say that a person is not merely a body -- though the body may display some distinct characteristics of the person -- and when a person dies, what's left behind is not a person but a body or a corpse.  I also happen to believe that the church is a living organism, not an architectural feature -- though the architectural structure may display some distinct characterstics of the church body for whom it was built -- and when a church dies, what's left behind is not a church but a corpse or a carcass.

I don't know.  I still haven't figured out all the terminology for myself -- but whatever you call them, there are a lot of these buildings around Amsterdam.

Over the past week or so, I've been riding around the city actualizing a photography project that's been on my mind for quite some time.  I'm seeking out all these grand old cathedrals, originally designed to invoke a sense of God's glory and awe -- but now repurposed for other uses.  So far, I've snapped pictures of these urban spaces now being used as community centers, exhibition spaces, offices, museums, conference centers, restaurants... I've even found old "church carcasses" currently housing activities as unusual as a night-club, a rock-climbing facility, and a haunted house tourist trap!

When I started out, I thought to myself:  "Ah, no big deal.  It's an interesting photo project -- but it's not the building that makes a church.  I shouldn't get worked up about some deeper spiritual meaning to the historical development of the city."  But I have to admit, as I've gone along I've felt increasingly heavy-hearted.  I've felt sad to see so many of these "church carcasses" scattered around, piled up throughout the city.  It's reminded me of the massive cultural shift that has occured (and is still occuring) in the West over the last 100 years or so (not that these cultural shifts have been all bad, but still...).  It's very clear to see the declined (and still declining) influence of the Church within our society.  And I see the horrific mortality rate of churches in Amsterdam.  It makes me feel like some kind of Holocaust survivor -- being the leader of a struggling-and-striving little church, here amidst all these collosal carcasses.  What hope is there, really, for our future?  Can we seriously hope for a lasting legacy in my family, in my community???

It is encouraging to remember that there are living, growing church communities here in the city.  I thank God for people like those of the Noorderkerk and the Jeruzalemkerk -- holding onto life and vitality in their old, architecturally-alluring structures.  And I thank God that many of the most lively church communities I know are meeting in movie theaters and school auditoriums and multi-purpose rented rooms.

But still, a glance at the church carcasses of Amsterdam certainly produces a sense of sobriety.  Probably for the better.  The church (building) is dead; Long live the Church (people)!

*     *     *     *     *

PICTURED ABOVE:

TOP ROW, 1ST COLUMN:  Agnietenkapel - Now owned by the university of Amsterdam (UvA) and used for formal academic occasions such as promotions, graduations, symposiums, and readings.

TOP ROW, 2ND COLUMN:  Oosterkerk - Now used for hosting exhibitions and concerts, potentially could be developed to house a grand cafe and/or a community center (www.oosterkerk-amsterdam.nl)

TOP ROW, 3RD COLUMN:  Amstelkerk - Now owned by Stadsherstel Amsterdam, a non-profit organization designed to restore and maintain the city's old monumental buildings.  Translated from their website:  "The goal is to give these special and sizeable buildings a successful second life, as cultural centers among other things.  To this end, Stadsherstel seeks partnership with various cultural institutions."  The Amstelkerk is currently being used for office space, exhibition space, and hosting the cafe/restaurant Nel (www.stadsherstel.nl)

TOP ROW:  4TH COLUMN:  Mozes en Aäronkerk - Now Mozeshuis center for adult education and development of a more cooperative society (www.mozeshuis.nl)

2ND ROW, 1ST COLUMN:  Vondelkerk - Now owned by Stadsherstel Amsterdam, a non-profit organization designed to restore and maintain the city's old monumental buildings.  Translated from their website:  "The goal is to give these special and
sizeable buildings a successful second life, as cultural centers among
other things.  To this end, Stadsherstel seeks partnership with various
cultural institutions."  The Vondelkerk is currently being used for office space and for conference facilities, though there also happens to be a living church community called Via Nova renting space for a weekly gathering (www.stadsherstel.nl)

2ND ROW, 2ND COLUMN:  Sint Joseph Kerk - Now used by Mountain Network as a climbing wall / training facility (www.mountain-network.eu/index.php?id=2331)

2ND ROW, 3RD COLUMN:  Nieuwekerk - Now used primarily as an exhibition space; also orgnanizes periodic concerts and occasional religious cermonies for the royal family, such as weddings, coronations, and the city's annual Memorial Day remembrances (www.nieuwekerk.nl)

2ND ROW:  4TH COLUMN:  Nieuwe Walenkerk - Now used as office and studio space by the USSR cross-media production studio (www.ussr.nl)

3RD ROW, 1ST COLUMN:  Ronde Lutherse Kerk - Now a hotel and conference center owned by Marriot (http://www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/amsrd-renaissance-amsterdam-hotel)

3RD ROW, 2ND COLUMN:  Posthoornkerk - Now owned by Stadsherstel Amsterdam, a non-profit organization designed to restore and maintain the city's old monumental buildings.  Translated from their website:  "The goal is to give these special and
sizeable buildings a successful second life, as cultural centers among
other things.  To this end, Stadsherstel seeks partnership with various
cultural institutions."  The Posthoornkerk is currently being used for office space and for conference facilities (www.stadsherstel.nl)

3RD ROW, 3RD COLUMN:  Nieuwezijds Kapel - Now the Amsterdam Dungeon, a "haunted-house" style tourist attraction; their website invites you to: "Enter the psychological whirlpool of the Amsterdam Dungeon and prepare to be overwhelmed by true stories of historical horror, spine-chilling rides and gruesome displays. Find yourself propelled into the dark ages and an era of torture, disease and death. The origins of the Grim Reaper are traced here and you are invited to discover its true meaning and brevity in the darkness of the Dungeon." (www.thedungeons.com/en/amsterdam-dungeon/index.html)

3RD ROW:  4TH COLUMN:  Oudekerk - Now owned and operated by Stichting de Oudekerk te Amsterdam (organizes exhibitions and preserves the building as a historical artifact; also just so happens to host the Oudekerk Gemeente, a protestant church community, which meets weekly -- though, it should be noted, the church community is not the main attraction of the Oudekerk, as it is listed 6th on the Oudekerk website as "Erediensten," after Address, Opening Hours, Entrance Fees, Tours, and Visiting the Tower) (www.oudekerk.nl)

BOTTOM ROW, 1ST COLUMN:  Zuiderkerk - Now an office / information center for the City of Amsterdam's Department of Zoning, Construction, and Residence (www.zuiderkerk.amsterdam.nl)

BOTTOM ROW, 2ND COLUMN:  Vrije Gemeeente (a.k.a. Paradiso) - Now a concert center / night club, well-known as the "Pop Temple of the Netherlands" (www.paradiso.nl)

BOTTOM ROW, 3RD COLUMN:  Ons Lieve Heer op Solder - Now a museum, showing the restored hidden church as it was in the 17th Century (Catholic masses are still organized for Christmas, and on Sundays between October and April -- though these services are listed 4th on the museum website as "Misvieringen," after  Exhibitions, Tours, and Events) (www.opsolder.nl)

BOTTOM ROW:  4TH COLUMN:  De Duif - Now owned by Stadsherstel Amsterdam, a non-profit organization designed to restore and maintain the city's old monumental buildings.  Translated from their website:  "The goal is to give these special and
sizeable buildings a successful second life, as cultural centers among
other things.  To this end, Stadsherstel seeks partnership with various
cultural institutions."  De Duif is primarily used for hosting concerts, conferences, and events (www.stadsherstel.nl)

*     *     *     *     *

OTHER SPACES PHOTOGRAPHED (BUT NOT DISPLAYED IN ABOVE COLLAGE):

Gereformeerde Kerk De Buiten-Amstel (a.k.a. Cafe-Restaurant Bazar) - Now a hip Moroccan-inspired restaurant and club (www.bazaramsterdam.nl)

Noodkerk Christus Koning - Now used as a multi-purpose community center; uses of the space include chess clubs, children's after-school day-care, and "Alkona" confectionary wholesale store / "Dames- Heren- en Jeugd-mode"

Schuilkerk De Hoop (in Diemen) - Now owned by Stadsherstel Amsterdam, a non-profit organization designed to restore and maintain the city's old monumental buildings.  "Het doel is om de bijzondere grote gebouwen een succesvol tweede leven te geven, onder andere als cultuurzaal. Hiertoe zoekt Stadsherstel samenwerking met verschillende culturele instellingen."  De Hoop is primarily used for hosting conferences and events (www.stadsherstel.nl)

*     *     *     *     *

If anyone knows of any other "church carcasses" which should be considered for this project, please let me know by leaving a comment or sending me an e-mail.  Thanks!

Believe it or not, our family received invitations from five friends celebrating their birthdays this weekend!  Fortunately our friends consolidated, and it only ended up being two locations that needed to be figured into our afternoon plans -- but even so, the locations were geographically arranged in such a way that made it tricky to figure out how we were going to travel the proverbial party circuit.  Public transportation connections were going to be less than ideal, leaving us with a lot of waiting and walking.  Using our neighborhood car-sharing program (Greenwheels) also didn't seem like a very useful way to go about things, since a good bit of our travel would have been within the city where it's slow, stressful, and expensive to park your car.  So, considering the fact that the weather was lovely (sunny, but not too warm), I decided to do it with the bakfiets (our "minivan of bicycles").  Me (Marci is out of town for the weekend), three kids, a load of beach supplies, snacks, and sandwiches... and a whole lot of road.

I didn't really realize how much road it was actually going to be.  But I checked when I got home:  26.5 kilometers... If you add in the mornings errands, which involved getting gifts and cards for the parties, my total distance logged on the bakfiets today would actually be 29.1 kilometers.  That's 18.08 miles, for my American friends.  It amounted to approximately 3 hours in the saddle (pushing a very heavy bicycle) -- while entertaining three kids in the hold of the bakfiets (though I have to say, the kids did remarkably well).  It sounds pretty impressive (if I do say so myself), just to throw out numbers like that.  But then I decided to try and contextualize those numbers to some of the other places that I've called "home" throughout the years -- and I discovered just how crazy 29.1 kilometers on the bakfiets could really be!

If you're thinking about it in terms of Richland County, Ohio.  This would be like starting at my parents' house, right in the middle of town (close to the football stadium), and pedalling out of town, down State Route 39 to Ontario, and going to the big Cinemark multi-plex out by the Target just off Lex-Springmill Road -- then (after watching your movie, supposedly), riding back to Shelby on the back roads (Walker Lake, Rock Road, Stiving, etc.) -- then, before making the most direct route back home, deciding that you needed to pick up some supplies at Glen's Surplus Store before finally returning to the starting point!  That's 29.1 kilometers!

Or, to put it in Wood County (Ohio) terms -- for all my friends in Northwest Ohio -- this would be like starting at the Wood County Mall in Bowling Green on a Saturday afternoon, discovering that there's nothing to see or do there (which is, admittedly, par for the course at the Woodland Mall), and then pedalling north on State Route 25 until getting to the Levi's Commons shoppping area, just south of the 475 loop in Perrysburg, killing some time at the Books-A-Million shop and maybe at one of the restaurants there, and then riding back to Bowling Green using the same route that you followed earlier in the afternoon (because there just aren't many other roads cutting through that part of the countryside).  Again, that's what 29.1 kilometers feels like!

I really have a hard time imagining what people in Shelby or Bowling Green might think, if they saw a bakfiets full of kids slowly making its way through the corn fields and strip-malls.  I'm sure I'd get a lot of honks from cars passing us.  I'd probably get a couple of people rolling down their window to ask if I needed help or something.  I might very well cause some kind of accident (seeing how the infrastructure just isn't set up for a "minivan of bicycles" measuring a good meter-and-a-half (four feet or so) wide.  And it wouldn't surprise me if I got Children's Services called out on me, to investigate.

But this is regular life here in Holland.  No one even bats an eye (well, except for tourists).  And even though I can't help but think about the ridiculousness of the whole situation sometimes, I also have to admit that I kind of like the way it works here.  I was certainly tired when we got home at the end of the day -- but I feel totally back to normal now.  I feel refreshed, actually.  I'm glad for the time we got to spend with friends, celebrating the passing of years.  The bakfiets adventure is not something I'd want to do everyday (not the whole 29.1 kilometers, I mean).  But then again, is my daily reality really all that much different?!?  It's amazing to me how much I sometimes forget that it is.

You've heard the saying, "One man's trash is another man's treasure," right?  Well, I've recently been thinking about wildlife and realizing how true this can be, even in the natural realm.

It's occurred to me that in the two parts of the world which I call "home" (Ohio and North Holland), there just so happens to be a natural population of two particular species of animals -- one of which is so commonplace that it could almost be considered a municipal pest, the other of which is so rare that it's considered a special, almost-majestic, wild animal.  But what's interesting is that the wildlife / domestic-life distinction is completely inverted, depending on the location.

In Ohio, you see squirrels (eekhoorns) all over the place.  Public parks, tampering with back-yard bird feeders, in the forested areas, squashed as road-kill beside major thoroghfares.  They're almost considered a pest.  Certainly nothing to get excited about.  But if you're in Ohio, and you ever happen to see a blue heron (reiger) picking its way along some remote riverbank, it almost invariably produces a feeling of awe and wonder.  If you're traveling with someone, it's hard not to say, "Hey, look -- a blue heron!"  They're special.  Rare.  Unique.

But here in North Holland, it's the exact opposite.  Blue herons are very commonplace, even here in the city of Amsterdam.  They always can be found hanging around the canals and parks, and can often be found even in the streets and among the houses (especially if someone in the neighborhood has taken to feeding them).  Blue herons just aren't that special.  The city herons, at least, usually have kind of greasy feathers and greedy eyes.  You don't want your kids to get too close to them.  They're almost considered pests.  But if you're in North Holland, and you ever happen to see a squirrel scampering through the trees, it really does feel like a sensation.  If you're traveling with someone, it's hard not to say, "Kijk -- een eekhoorntje!"  They're just special -- really only visible in the deeply forested areas.  They're unique.

Funny, huh?

You know that sleepy Sunday-afternoon feeling?  The sun is coming in through the windows, lighting up lazy dust particles in the air.  It's warm and comfortable.  You lie down and doze for a little bit, then wake for a little bit, then doze a little bit more, and finally decide that you need to get up.  You stretch your legs, run your hands through your hair, rub the sleep out of your eyes, and you try to do "normal" things.  But you're still kind of sleepy.  Sort of refreshed, sort of catatonic.  Everything moves in slow-motion.  Do you know the feeling?

Well, that seems to be the general vibe in Amsterdam at this time of the year.  Things start to slow down in the second half of July, and by the middle of September they're pretty much ramped back up to full speed again.  But right about now, we're somewhere in that doze, stir, doze, stir cycle.  It's kind of nice.  But it's kind of weird, too.

Today, our kids went back to school.  They weren't so excited about it (though once they actually got there, amongst their old friends and familiar surroundings, they seemed to perk right up).  But to me, I have to admit that it felt kind of refreshing to be going back through that old school-day routine again.  It felt like blood freshly circulating its way through my system.

As we bicycled past the neighborhood butcher shop, we saw the owner out, busying himself with the task of re-opening after a four-week vacation pause.  He saw us on riding past, recognized us, and waved.  We waved back.  And then we merged onto the Linnaeusstraat, the major thoroghfare in our neighborhood, and joined the throngs of parents and children buzzing about.  The city was alive in a way that it hasn't been for the past couple of months.  It's still not completely up-to-speed, but it's getting there.  At the school, I shook the custodian's hand, and we exchanged our experiences of the summer vacation.  We greeted all the other families, like at a family reunion.  "Oh, your hair got blonder over the summer!"  "My, how big the kids have gotten!"  "How was the vacation?"  Everyone was smiles and sun-tans.  It was lovely.

We took Elliot and Olivia to their new classrooms and introduced them to their new teachers.  In spite of their earlier protests, they seemed happy to be back in the flow.  It still might take us awhile to fully wake up from the seasonal slumber.  But we're getting there.  It looks like it's going to be a good year.

BTW - In case you're interested, you can find more pictures of Elliot and Olivia's first day of school in the Family Pictures section of the website.

Dear Elliot,

Man, did you ever realize how quickly you’re growing up?!?  Seriously... It’s ridiculous.  I know I’m not the first to say such a phrase.  It’s basically a cliché at this point.  But it turns out that it’s remarkably true.  Suddenly, I look at you -- and you’re not a little kid any more.  You’re a little man.

To be honest, the realization scares me a little bit.  I worry that my parenting is not going to be able to keep up with your development.  I haven’t been perfect, of course, as a parent to babies and little kids; but I’ve been all right, I think… But parenting a “youth”… a pre-adolescent… an adolescent… a teenager… an adult... Am I really up for that?

I see how your attitude has changed in certain things.  You used to be so sensitive.  Your excitement -- for things like an ice cream cone or a “twirly dance” reward for staying in bed all night -- would be unashamed and exuberant.  Your sadness, regret, and remorse -- upon discipline, upon wronging someone else, upon not getting your way about something -- would be passionate, powerful, and highly visible.  But now... you’ve gotten better at playing things “cool.”  The transition is not yet complete, of course, but I do see now that sometimes you respond to set-backs and disappointments with that teenagerish sense of “whatever” (though fortunately, you don’t use that particular word too much).  And in those moments, I feel my anger rising.  I feel my heart more vulnerable to your actions and attitudes.  I feel worried that one of these days I will say or do something foolish in the midst of one of these interactions, and the proverbial wedge will be driven between us.

Dear Jesus, help us, help us, help us...

If I was counseling myself -- or, let’s just say, if I were to pretend to counsel you in a similar situation, 25 years from now... bearing such burdens, wrestling with such worries... I would offer the reminder that it’s important to relax one’s grip a bit.  It’s important to live in the moment and not obsess about possibilities.  It’s vital to remember the importance of grace and forgiveness -- to realize how amazing it is that God gives us the opportunity for fresh starts in our relationships with Himself and with others.  And, in fact, the real depth of relationship comes from making mistakes, and patching up those holes, and learning from the mistakes for the future... And after I think about these things for a little bit, I calm down.  I remember that life is a seasonal thing.  And aging is a seasonal thing, too.  Even if you do become the “‘Whatever, Dad’ Teenager” for awhile, it’s not the end of the world.  It’s a season.  Gam zeh ya'avor.  “This, too, shall pass.”

The funny thing, though, is that I don’t actually think you’re in this season yet.  Or maybe you never will be.  I’m still deeply blessed to see the kind of person that you are and that you are becoming.  You’re fun to talk with and play with.  Your creativity is astonishing.  Your intelligence is unmistakable.  And above all, within you I sense a genuine heart that seeks after God and desires to know Him and serve Him with everything you’ve got.  And what more could a father ask for?

I just want you to know that I love you, Elliot.  I’m proud of you.  I may be something of a worry-wart, and I certainly make my share of mistakes every day -- but in spite of these shortcomings, I rejoice in my relationship with you and our common relationship with God.  And that goes even during the hard times (or at least so I am resolving).  I’m glad that there are no specific sins or wrongs between us at the moment (lest you think that I’m writing this letter from a particular point of reaction to a particular incident).  I hope we can keep it that way as much as possible...

But I’m writing this down, while I’m clear-headed about it, so I can reference it whenever necessary.  And maybe it will be the same for you.

I love you, my boy.  Keep on keepin’ on.

Much love,

Dad

I realize that I've been posting a lot about my kids this week (maybe it's because I'm subconsciously mindful of the fact that they go back to school next week) -- but once again, I just couldn't resist posting this photograph.  They made themselves into ninjas, using pairs of Olivia's tights.  Pretty impressive, actually.

My ego got a good and thorough thrashing earlier this week.  It happened at the fiction critique group with which I'm involved.  I genuinely don't believe there was any malice or mean-spiritedness on the part of the others (on the contrary, I feel like they're sincerely pulling for me) -- but still, I came away from Monday evening's session feeling good and whipped.  I had submitted an outline of my first attempt at a novel, "The Glory of the Coming" -- and, to be honest, I came into the evening's critique session more excited about the project than I had been in months.  I saw it all sketched out:  great settings, great story-lines, adequate premises (for something of a science-fiction element to the story).  And leading up to the critique session, I had been feeling freshly enthused about this project that had become somewhat laborious just three chapters into it.  But then, as I started to listen to the reactions of the others at the Mezrab, I started to see that there were significant holes in the outline -- glaring deficiencies, actually -- that had been patently obvious to everyone else, but not to me.

It's all too typical that we're blind to our own weaknesses.  That is, after all, why the critique process is so valuable.  But it's embarrassing, at the same time.  So plain but so painful.

It turns out that my story is woefully lacking meaningful characters.  Oh, there are a broad variety of names and demographics to fill up the "cast of characters" -- but at this point, they're really just pawns to move the settings and story-lines.  They had (I see it so clearly for myself now) no real depth or dimensionality.  And honestly, who cares if you've got interesting settings and story-lines and premises, if you've got mere ciphers playing the leading roles?!?!  Ironically, I had previously told myself that I actually wanted the book to be a story about people, and not just some concept or message.  But up to this point, I've failed to breathe any real life into these most vital elements of my story...

I'm trying not to over-react here.  But at the same time, doesn't a situation like this call for some kind of action/reaction?

I'm realizing that it's a very thin, blurry, light-gray line between "Fine.  Whatever.  I don't care.  I don't want to make a dumb ol' novel anyway" (said with one's best sense of playground pouting) and "You know, honestly, I'm not sure if I care enough about this project to do all the work necessary to fix its fatal deficiencies.  I don't know if I'm ready for a novel."  Today, honestly, I'm feeling somewhere between the two.  But because these two positions bring up diametrically-opposed emotions from the more sensible, detached, "objective" part of me, I don't know what to do.  I do not want to be the former (the pouty playground brat).  But I am OK with being the latter.  I don't want to be a quitter.  But I also want to pick my battles wisely, and not die on some hill that's not really all that important to me anyway.  If I'm going to go to all the trouble to write a book, shouldn't it be something that I'm really passionate about?  Truly willing to fight for?  But how much is my passion and willingness to fight for something tied up in the ways that I believe others perceive me?  Ach... these are my eternal dilemmas.

It pains me to realize how fragile my sense of identity can be at times.  When my insecurities are exposed, I feel like a small child.  Weak, vulnerable, foolish.  I know, of course, that there's more to me than my weaknesses.  But it doesn't feel that way in those moments.

For now, I'm just trying to step back and get some perspective.  I'm not going to delete any of the chaptersthat I've written or put a flame to the critiqued hard-copies (though these thoughts have crossed my mind).  But at the same time, I'm not going to obsess about the problems and spend hours and hours trying to fix things right away (or at least I'm going to try not to obsess about these things!).  I'm going to attempt to strike a balance in there, filing things away for awhile until I can approach the situation with fresh perspective and see what might come of it all down the line.  I might try some other, smaller, projects just to get the creative juices (especially the character-developing juices) flowing again.  And I'll take the lessons that I can learn in the process -- particularly learning and re-learning (and re-learning) the value of what the Bible says about God opposing the proud, but giving grace to the humble.  I'm still not sure exactly where I'll end up through this whole process; even so, it's just good to realize that I'm in process.

"Where did you go (or where are you going) on vacation this summer?"  It's a common question in the Netherlands during the summer vacation season.  Dutch people take their vacations seriously.  They often take off 4-6 weeks at a time, and they travel far and wide for their vacations -- to the Caribbean or the Middle East or Southeast Asia... anywhere really.  But not typically within the Netherlands.  That's for the poor people and the Germans.  Well, there are a number of theme parks and seaside destinations that might be considered worthwhile.  But most of the Nederlanders I know talk about these Dutch destinations in the past-tense -- as fond memories from childhood:  Texel... the Efteling... the Apenheul... Scheveningen... places like that.  But not a lot of them go there -- at least not on a very regular basis.

However, our family has been trying to make the most of a vacation season spent entirely within the Netherlands this summer.  Earlier this summer, we got to experience the famous seaside destination Scheveningen (close to the city of Den Haag) as well as the island of Texel.  Both of these were different than I had expected -- more beautiful, less tourist-trappy -- so we had a good start to our summer within the Netherlands.  But within the last week, we've escalated our pace.  I've taken a couple of days off of work (since it's less of a busy season to begin with), and now I can say that we've experienced another two of the other classic Dutch "vacation destinations:"  the the Apenheul and the Dolfinarium.

The Apenheul has no direct comparison to any of my previous life experiences.  You could say that it's kind of like a zoo, in that it's got a bunch of animals all in one place -- but it's entirely populated by primates...  You could say that it's kind of like Sea World or Epcot Center, in that it involves regularly scheduled shows, where the animal keepers interact with the public -- but the monkeys don't really do any tricks, like the sea mammals at Sea World do... You could say that it's kind of like a safari on the African savanah, in that the animals are much more free to roam around, even in and amongst the human visitors -- but, of course, the Apenheul is nowhere near Africa, and how silly could I really be to try and make such a comparison with a sort of theme park in the middle of the Dutch national forest?!?  But however you describe it, the Apenheul is an interesting place, and I'm glad we got to visit.

It wasn't quite the "monkeys roaming everywhere and climbing all over you" like we had kind of been led to believe.  But there were some parts of the park where the monkeys do come right up to you.  Olivia even got bit by one of the squirrel-monkeys (doodhoofdaapjes)!  They treated her on the spot and even sent us home with a form letter that could be supplied to our family physician if any problems should arise.  And within an hour of the incident, Olivia was joking about how the monkey thought that her fingers were bananas.  At the end of the day, we bought a small plush toy squirrel-monkey that we named Chomper.

In contrast to the Apenheul, the Dolfinarium has a pretty direct comparison to my American experiences; that is, you could basically say that it's a sort of "Dutch Sea World."  Various sea mammals performing tricks for audiences in aquatic-colored miniature amphitheaters.  I remember hearing about the Dolfinarium during my Dutch classes -- when the dramatic series of videos which accompanied our lessons devoted a whole episode to the lead family's visit to the Dolfinarium in Harderwijk.  And having heard others talk about the Dolfinarium with a sense of child-like wonder as well, it seemed like a decent vacation destination.

It didn't end up being quite like I had expected.  It was quite a bit smaller and less-polished than the American Sea World.  It featured more natural habitats for the animals.  And they even had a part of the park devoted to the dolphins and sea lions who were either too old or too young for the regular shows but who were still cared for by the park staff.  Their shows had a distinctive European flavor to them (i.e. the Euro-Techno music serving as background for the shows, decidedly Dutch sense of humor for the comic shows, etc.), but all in all the Dolfinarium ended up being a lot of fun.

Now I think all we have to do is visit the Efteling (the "Dutch Disney World") sometime, and we'll have more or less completed the cycle of the Dutch Institutions of Summer Family-Vacationing.  Can anyone else think of any absolute classics that we're missing???

In addition to these family days at the Apenheul and the Dolfinarium, I personally decided to individually experience the Gay Pride Parade in Amsterdam last weekend.  Every year, on the first Saturday in August, there's a massive pink parade floating through the canals of the city.  And while I've never made a point to be at one of these demonstrations in previous summers, I decided that I wanted to see one for myself -- that I would feel pretty sheepish if I moved back to America someday and would've never experienced such a spectacle with my own eyes.

Like the other Dutch "institutions," though, the actual experience turned out to be quite a bit different than my expectations of it.  For one, I had gotten the idea that the entire city center is a raucous festival -- kind of like Queen's Day, except in pink instead of orange.  But quite to the contrary, the Gay Pride Parade was quite geographically limited.  It was really only the parade route itself that was full of people (though let it be said, that one channel through the city was completely packed with a wide assortment of people).  Just one canal further in towards the city center, or just one canal further out of the city, and things were remarkably quiet.  Later that night, I think there ended up being some bigger parties in the streets where many of the gay clubs are located (by the Rembrandtplein), but for the most part the city was going about its business as usual -- and I guess I just didn't expect that.

Then, with the parade itself, I was surprised by how tame everything ended up being.  From what I had heard through others (and through news stories on television, internet, and in print), I was frankly expecting something of a float-by orgy -- or a series of float-by orgies.  But it wasn't like that at all.  The boats in the parade were actually very corporate -- sponsored by dating sites, dance clubs, a particular brand of vodka, the city police force, the national bank, and an individual boat for pretty much every political party in the Netherlands -- just trying to sell themselves to a particular demographic, I guess... There were people with colorful costumes (each boat having its own color theme), silly hats, that sort of thing -- and just a few people in more risqué leather outfits, like you might expect.  But there were really no politcal overtones or social statements being made like I had kind of expected.  Pretty much every boat was blasting some kind of dance music, and on the crowded boats the "dancers" pretty much only had room for a rhythmic bopping to the beat with maybe one hand up in the air, swaying to the music.  To tell you the truth, it was boring.

Does that sound too dismissive?  It was an experience, at least, and I can now say that I've had that experience.  But it all just goes to show, these sorts of classic "institutions" can never really live up to their hype.

Ah well... that's some of what I've been doing with my summer, at any rate.  We're down to our last week before kids start up with school again -- so we'll see what comes of that.  In the meantime, though, we'll keep trying to live it up as much as we can...

It's been exactly one year since I last stood on American soil.

Last summer, our family was in the United States from May 5th to August 5th, and for some reason that summer's dates have stuck in my head.  On particular dates over the past three months, I've frequently gone back to the parallel date from a year ago.  Kind of strange... but it was a really good trip, I guess.

I remember the little things, like the magnet collection (pictured above) that we built up, over our travels through the country.  I remember the beaver's lodge that we built out on the farm.   I remember some of the little restaurants and big gas stations.  I remember the kindnesses of strangers, the welcoming hugs of old friends and family.  I remember the sounds of my kids running through sprinklers in my parents' back-yard.

And I remember the big things, too, like visiting the World's Largest Buffalo and the World's Largest Holstein Cow.  Like rounding the bend to see Mount Rushmore for the first time in my life.  I remember watching a minor league baseball game in Des Moines, Iowa.  I remember  the extravagant generosities bestowed upon us by friends, family, strangers, and spiritual brothers and sisters.

Memories like this make me realize why I blog (but have never been able to latch onto the idea of Twitter or other sorts of micro-blogging).  It's like my own form of digital scrapbooking -- with something of an audience, for added benefit.  I'm not out to teach the world some dynamic principle so much as simply trying to live life to the fullest.  I am my own primary audience, I think.  Because when I browse the old archives of posts, the pictures and stories come back to me like the words to an old favorite song.  I re-live the experiences with a deep sense of gratitude.

So perhaps it will seem a little bit weird to post photographs from over a year ago, here in the midst of my Dutch summer of 2009... But it's something I'm remembering today.

I'm glad to be in Holland, too.  But there's something special about America.

Long live the memories...

As an individual, I'm not very comfortable with change.  But as a church leader, I've discovered that change is imperative.  Not 90-degree (or 180-degree) changes, every couple of years (or months) which can become overwhelming and destabilizing.  But like with any organism, gradual, incremental change is just a natural part of growth, development, and maturation.  And thank God!  Our church in Amsterdam is growing, developing, and maturing!  In the coming months, we're planning to make a few structural adaptations.  And while these plans have already been shared among the various concentric circles of people involved with Zolder50, I thought it might be interesting for some of you (who wouldn't normally hear such announcements otherwise) to see a written version of what we've been sharing within our church community.  Keep reading for more details:

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Our mission is simple: to Know Jesus, Become Like Jesus, and Make Jesus Known. We support each other in the process, yet each one of us makes our own choice, not just to say that we’re going to follow Jesus, but to actually and actively live that out in our day-to-day life: reading and studying the Bible for application, enjoying a vibrant prayer life, living out the Great-Commission and making other disciples, being taught by the Bible and the Holy Spirit, and living in community.

As a church (and particularly as a church leadership team), we’ve spent a lot of time talking about this and trying to figure out how to do this.

Two years ago, we came up with a creative new idea to try and achieve these goals. We decided to shift our focus so that it wasn’t so much on Sunday worship gatherings, getting away from the idea that the church is a place for passive consumption of religious goods and services. Therefore, we placed more of an emphasis on our smaller family units, our “Home Groups” -- making those the primary point of involvement for our church and then trying to empower these home groups for mission in the city. We didn’t just want to wait for the people of Amsterdam to come to church; we wanted to take the church to the people of Amsterdam. So, as a part of that decision, we tried a schedule for Sunday worship where two congregations would meet on alternating weeks. That way, the focus could fall more to home groups, we could keep the priority of mission in front of us, and we could develop more leaders. This worked well, in some ways... In other ways, it didn’t exactly work out like we had hoped.

So, we’ve been talking about this with our Servant Leadership Council more and more, over the course of the last year; and as we talked it through, one of the most important conclusions that we reached is that we would do well to create a greater sense strategic partnership as we’re out on mission together. As our home groups are right now, this is kind of hit-or-miss (in some groups it’s happening really well, but in other groups it’s not).

After much prayer and dialogue, we’ve decided to make some adjustments in the next several months, leading up to January 2010.

Specifically (and perhaps most significantly), we've decided to transition from being a collection of “Home Groups” to being a collection of “Communities.” In a lot of ways, these are two different ways of getting at the same thing: creating smaller “spiritual families” who can know Jesus, become like Jesus, and make Jesus known in their day-to-day lives. Both involve building a sense of community and relational intimacy. Both involve studying the Bible together and encouraging each other towards greater spiritual growth… But there are also some differences. Home Groups have been general relational groupings; Communities are more united around a specific mission. Home Groups have been a random collection of people from various walks of life (sometimes the only common bond among the group being a love for Jesus and/or an interest in studying the Bible together with others); Communities are more grounded within and centered on a broader sub-culture within the city (geographic, ethnic, shared-interest, phase of life, etc.)... Examples of potential Communities (which tap into a broader sub-culture within the city of Amsterdam) might include a Community for Amsterdam Noord (or any particular neighborhood), or a Community for musicians, or a Community for university students, or a Community for squatters, or a Community for young families, or a Community for Latinos… Really, the possibilities are nearly endless! The idea is not to make this a strict categorization of the people in our church and say that “You can only be in a Community together with other people who are exactly like you.” But it is saying that we need to start uniting with “like-minded” people, in order to build more effective community and allow us to make Jesus known within the city around us as well.

We expect that many of our existing Home Groups may be able to make this transition as a group. In fact, that’s our default suggestion: that each group can put their heads together and come up with a shared vision and mission. But we also realize that this decision may mean something of a “reshuffling of the Home Group deck.” We might see some totally new Communities started with new people stepping up into leadership. And we certainly hope it will also be a great time for pulling others (who have never been a part of a home group before) into this more intimate form of fellowship.

The other change that the Servant Leadership Council has decided on -- again motivated by a desire to facilitate a greater sense of partnership and equipping ourselves for greater spiritual development -- is to have these Communities gather together with a cluster of other Communities on a weekly basis (instead of just twice a month, as we've been doing for the past couple of years). As of January 2010, we envision two separate Clusters of Communities meeting every week. Given the number of teachers and musicians that we currently have, we can't say that these weekly worship gatherings will be exactly the same as what our worship gatherings currently look like. But even so, we believe it could be really beneficial to have more regular interaction with this broader collection of Communities -- for purposes of equipping, encouraging, exchanging information, and just enjoying each others' company.

So then, how will we get from here to there?

Since we aim to implement these adaptations by January 2010, we still have a few months to plan and prepare and make the transition. During this transition period, we've decided to bring the whole church together for weekly worship gatherings, starting with the first Sunday in September. We can take advantage of these four months to have something of a "training camp" experience. Unfortunately, because of fire codes, we'll be limited to involving 150 people per week (which probably won't be too big of a problem in the beginning, but could get to be more of a problem toward the end). If anything, though, we hope this limitation will only intensify that training camp feeling with the first 150 people (the most active, most eager individuals) getting the opportunity to be a part of things. During these transition months, we're going to study the Gospel of Luke (which is great stuff for learning to really Know Jesus, Become Like Jesus, and Make Jesus Known) as well as have time to practically discuss and equip ourselves for our transition to Communities on mission. Home Groups will keep meeting as they do right now, while each Home Group and its Home Group leaders will be coached through the transition. Potential new Communities and Community leaders will be identified and coached through the process of getting established (which might begin sooner than January). And as the fall progresses, we hope and pray that the Holy Spirit will bring clarity to the process, settling each individual and each Home Group into its own Community and Cluster of Communities with everything in place by the new year.

We can't ever claim to have everything all figured out, but God really seems to be in this. The Servant Leadership Council (a collection of all the Home Group leaders who voluntarily committed to helping the church make wise, well-rounded decisions in matters such as this) went through a very prolonged and deliberate process that resulted in a unanimous conviction that God was leading us this direction. We feel that it's really a continuation of the course our church has been traveling for the last several years.  We'll have lots more to talk about in the next few months, as we get closer to January 2010. But through it all, we look forward to working together towards Knowing Jesus, Becoming like Jesus, and Making Jesus Known!

Today, I'm going to be teaching at Zolder50 about the Old Testament book of Ruth.  It's a great story -- perhaps one of the greatest stories of all time.  As I was preparing for the teaching, I was struck by how much the story of Ruth and Boaz resembles the more recent genre of stories we call "fairy tales."  I ended up doing some research about this genre, and I came up with some very interesting material.  But in the end, I decided I couldn't include all of the information I'd discovered in my teaching.  As any public speaker or writer knows, you often have to sacrifice some of your favorite material in order to strengthen the overall message that you're trying to communicate.  And that's just what ended up happening with my literary analysis of fairy tales.  Oh well...

But then I thought:  I could post these left-overs to my blog!  They may not fit within the context of my teaching -- but the analysis is interesting in its own right.

So this was the question I was trying to answer in my literary analysis:  What is it that makes a fairy tale work?  Why do fairy tales appeal to us so strongly?  Part of it, I’m sure, is the pure fantasy element of the stories.  They usually have a idealistic quality to them -- being set in castles, with princes and princesses, happening "a long time ago in a land far, far away" -- which appeals to us as a kind of escape from our present (presumably unpleasant) realities.  But beyond the settings and the characters, I think fairy tales are powerful because they usually depict someone who is downcast, underprivileged, and/or "on the outside" being lifted up and into the circle of privilege.  Or, to apply a more specific (though perhaps a more lofty) word to this, you could say that all fairy tales are essentially stories of redemption.  Stories of deliverance, rescue, declaration of value.  Like taking something that has been declared cheap “worthless junk” and saying, “No, no, no.  This is not junk; this is a treasure” and then paying a very high price to restore it to value.  This is essentially what fairy tales deal with, isn’t it?  Think about many of the fairy tales in our culture... And I think these types of stories connect with us on a personal level because we all feel somewhat downcast, underprivileged, and "on the outside."  We all sense an inborn need for redemption.

It’s interesting to note, however, that these fairy tale stories of redemption don’t always play out the same way.

Sometimes, there’s a clear sense of someone on the outside being brought to the inside.  This is probably the most basic kind of fairy tale.  The poor servant girl marries the prince, and they live happily ever after.  Cinderella is the classic example of this.  But then again, so is Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and pretty much any of these types of "Stepmother stories."

At other times, there are two people (or two groups of people) who are kind of on the “inside” of different worlds, kept apart from each other by those in power, but somehow finding a way to come together in the end.  The Little Mermaid is probably the best example of this:  a princess from the sea and a prince from on-land, seemingly doomed to a failed relationship, but then miraculously brought together... Romeo and Juliet would be another story kind of like this (though I don’t know if you could actually call that one a fairy tale, especially given its tragic ending).

And then at other times, there are two people who are both kind of "outsiders" -- each with some kind of "tragic flaw" but who turn out to somehow complement each other, so that when they come together, they create a dynamic of acceptance and fulfillment.  Beauty and the Beast is a good example of this:  she’s beautiful and virtuous, but poor; he’s rich and powerful, but trapped in the body of a hideous creature; but when they come together, they heal each other.  Shrek might be another example of this (though their transformation turns out to be more of a change in self-perception and in public opinion).

These are all great stories (and great types of stories) in their own right.  But I think the story of Ruth and Boaz might be the grand-daddy of them all.  It's a Biblical story that has all the marks of a true fairy tale (though this story was written thousands of years before the invention of the genre, and I do not consider it to be fictional).  And what's most interesting to me is that the story of Ruth could potentially be viewed in any of the three ways mentioned above (I'd be curious to hear if there are any opinions out there on which "category" best fits the story of Ruth)... It’s a very short story (approximately 2500 words), but from a literary standpoint, it's one of the most compelling and most fascinating stories that I know.  And I think that this is basically because it is a story of redemption.  A fairy tale.  But what's coolest of all is that it’s not just an interesting story that we can appreciate for its entertainment value.  It has real implications for us, too, as a deeper story of redemption.

If you want to hear more thoughts about this (dealing with the main subject itself, as opposed to this "leftover" literary tangent), you can come by the H88 today at four o'clock in the afternoon.  Or check the church website sometime later in the week for the audio file... But that's it for now.