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Monday, October 16, 2023

La La Land

Spoilers: I will be talking about the movie and soundtrack with no regard for saving you from spoilers. I highly recommend seeing La La Land if you like sad movies and musicals, and wish there were more musicals with the emotional wallop of Moulin Rouge. 

Not a spoiler: I started writing this morning, dictating to my phone, worked on it during breaks, and finished 1100 words by 4:30! (Plus 18 minutes of formatting work.)

It’s Monday morning and I’m walking to work. I’ve just finished listening to the Beatles’ album, “Let it Be,” and decided to go for something energetic and punchy, so I put on La La Land. As “Another Day of Sun” plays, I sing along loudly enough that people nearby look at me, but not so loudly that everyone on the street bursts into choreography.

But somehow, it is not making me cheerful. I can’t sing more than a few lines without getting choked up. “It’s another day of sun!” Why is that heartbreaking?

“And when they let you down,
you’ll get up off the ground,
‘cause morning comes around
and it’s another day of sun!”

I suddenly realized that La La Land is a musical about the Triumph of The Empire. In this case, The Empire of Entertainment. A machine that grinds up souls to make movies and television and pop stars and people who are referred to as “Talent.”

The phrase “It’s another day of sun!” is the sound of the Empire taking control, telling you that everything is not just okay, it’s great! The musical theme right after it goes up, then down again, a classic, full horn section big band playing their hearts out! The ending is triumphant, “It’s another day of sun!” as though all disappointments and chasing of stars and leaving love behind is a good thing. 

That theme comes back in “Someone in the Crowd,” subtle and quiet this time, whispering, seducing, then building to a melody on the prowl. The lyrics seem to be about people choosing a glamorous life, but it’s no more about a free choice than people in a Coke commercial, sharing a special moment over a bottle of sugar water and chemicals. The Empire is served when you keep your nose to the grindstone and tell yourself that maybe at the next random party you will meet the producer who is holding your future in his hands. The Empire is served when you get up off the ground after you've been knocked down, believing that it's all what you want, that it is worth any sacrifice. Give everything to The Empire and maybe you will be a star .

I don’t think I can unhear this. 

Mia and Sebastian have their own theme, a very human and endearing tune that flows like a fountain. Except that as it progresses, it adds discordant bits. By the end it feels more like falling down a staircase, which might be a foreshadowing of their breakup. As we go through the movie, their theme is revisited, reflecting the ups and downs of their relationship: Planetarium is a fantasy of falling in love. It could fit into a Studio Ghibli movie, visually as well as orchestrally. 

Before that Sebastian sings City of Stars. It is beautifully melancholy, a torch song from Seb to L.A. itself, The Empire. It’s like he knows she is bad for him, but he can’t resist. A love song from the oppressed to the oppressor. "Are you shining just for me?" he begs. Later Seb and Mia share the song. At first glance, it's a love song between the two of them, but it’s actually more like two addicts discussing the sublimities of heroin. It’s a hint that they are both looking for the same thing, and it isn’t each other. They just happen to be in tune at the moment.

We Can Start a Fire” is an odd song on the soundtrack by the legendary John Legend. He’s an amazing songwriter and performer, and in La La Land he is the Herald of The Empire: he brings temptation to Seb, the promise of money and fame, the opportunity to use his musical talents in an amazing way in front of thousands of people. The only price for Seb is leaving Mia, and setting aside his longtime dream of Seb’s Place. 

Mia sings Audition (The Fools Who Dream), about her aunt who went to Paris: a fool who moves far away, breaks hearts and makes messes. She tumbled into the Seine and got sick, but it was all worth it. Her aunt dreams big and dies an alcoholic. She was an artist who made the world a better place. Surely The Empire has no need of a story like that, right? Mia wouldn’t make a choice like that, right? 

Mia and Seb both choose their dreams over each other, the dreams handed down by The Empire. And because the story is told by The Empire itself, their dreams come true: Seb gets his jazz bar, and Mia gets her career.

But they don’t get each other. Which is startlingly honest for The Empire. It is just subversive enough for me to love it. And frankly speaking, the music is so captivatingly good that I took my wife to see it in the theater based on the videos I linked to in this piece, and probably just two or three of them. The last scene of the movie is “Epilogue,” which is a musical video summary of the whole story the way The Empire would have told it, with a literal Hollywood ending. In other words, it’s the dream version of what is already a dream ending.

La La Land knocked me out the first time I saw it, and it continues to move me. I am almost at 1,000 words here, but the ideas and feelings tied up in this movie and its songs are so rich that I managed to start and finish this post before 5:00 on the day I started writing it. I will admit that I may have been a bit distracted during a couple of my classes, and may have ranted to one or two of them about how they really need to see La La Land. Just as I am about to rant to you.

If you haven’t seen La La Land yet, I highly recommend it. I barely touched on the visuals, and it is gorgeous. I didn’t hit all the songs, and they are all good. The chemistry between Sebastian and Mia feels real, and the humor feels real. And when it starts to fall apart, that feels real, too. You don’t get that kind of authenticity much in movies, and even less so in musicals. 

Wednesday, October 11, 2023

A Maxine Story

Today I had a one-on-one lesson with a middle school girl who I have been teaching for a couple of years. I have been pushing her to ask questions in general, and at the end of our hour I told her to ask me three questions, any topic.

She asked what I would do after our lesson. (Go home, prepare some dinner for Quinten, as Maxine and Horyon would be out.)

She asked another question, which I cannot remember.

Then she asked if anything special had happened to me. I pointed out that at 53 years old, I have had many, many special experiences, so she added, "recently."

I thought for a moment, then shared this with her:

Maxine's project is this weekend. She has been sleeping only three or four hours a night, staying late at school, and seriously stressing out. This morning, after her mother and brother had left, she came to me and said, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I really wanted to do my project in Korean and English, so that you could understand it. I just can't."

I was very quick to forgive her, and tell her that I hoped she would not worry about it. She promised to tell me all about her project afterwards, we hugged, and I told her I was proud of her.

I told this little story to my student, and as I was telling her, I got choked up. She was horrified that might be crying, told me, "Don't do that!" So I took a few breaths and refocused. Then she asked me why I was crying. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue and explained to her, "So many feelings at the same time: happy, and sad, and proud. It was too much."

I decided that damage control was in order, which usually means teacher mode. I told her that special moments happen more often than we realize, but we don't notice. When we pay attention, we see that people are amazing, and that your life is better when you look out for them. 

Then I jokingly made her promise not to tell anyone, and was soon on my way home.

I found my own reaction to my story a bit puzzling. It certainly didn't hit me that hard as it was happening, nor immediately afterward. It was only as I was telling it that it had an emotional impact on me. On my way home, I had a few thoughts:

First, Maxine's days of living with us are numbered, almost certainly fewer than she has already spent living with us. I will miss her big time, even though she has spent most of the past year sealed into her room, or out studying with friends, or meeting her (second) boyfriend. She has a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor, as well as a fair streak of ridiculousness: she is the only other person our home who gets some of my jokes. These moments of connection will still happen, I'm sure, but once she has moved out there will be fewer opportunities for them.

Second, it was very touching that she wanted to include me, and felt bad at not being able to. It was like seeing myself in a mirror, hearing her say that she had not planned well enough to include me. I cannot count how many times in my life I have set out with good intentions, only to arrive at Port Disappoint Everyone.* I suppose that every parent sees their own biggest flaws embodied in their children at times. Maxine was counting down the hours until the biggest production of her life,** but she felt bad because it wasn't perfect. Her blend of caring and poor planning and sincerity and love was such a perfect reflection of myself, for such a brief moment, and I didn't even realize it until someone asked.

*I know that I also do some things right, but the times I disappoint others and myself stick out in my mind.

**Which, by the way, she knocked out of the park.

Third, I need to figure out what's going on in my heart that such a simple question can bring on such a flood of emotion. That is most definitely another post for another day. Especially considering that it took me a month to wrap this one up!

Thursday, June 29, 2023

Why I love my job...

 I am very fortunate to love my job. I do not love every part of it, of course. As my Dad always said, "If it was easy, they wouldn't call it work." I am not fond of grading papers and record keeping. I hate assigning grades to students, it feels too much like a judgement on who they are, though it is supposed to be a judgement of what they have done. Sartre says that man is "... nothing else but the sum of his actions," , and he's a pretty clever fellow. I'm not sure that I agree with him. After all, we don't judge a baby by its accomplishments, and we should be quick to forgive people for their mistakes. But I need to move on before I give myself a philosophy headache. I'm not here to talk about the things I don't like about my job, but to share a specific instance of something I do like.

My favorite class is Building Relationships in English, a course of my own design. At the end of the semester, I almost always ask the students to tell me something they have learned in my class, and how it has changed, or will change, their life. Sometimes it's an exam question, sometimes an interview, and sometimes just a course survey.

This year one student submitted an answer that blew me away. In fact, it made me cry the first time I read it. And the second. Be warned, grab a tissue. My student wrote:


I learned everyone needs to be loved. I thought loving is only for people who have enough money and time. I thought being loved is too big thing for me to feel. I was not ready to be loved. So i avoided to be loved by someone who says they like me or even my family.

But everyone needs to be loved because love heals. Now I know that I deserve to be loved. So I will be able to open my mind to people who like me and accept the love. Then I can have people loving around me. I will also give love to people who I love to heal them by loving.

Saturday, June 10, 2023

How to Leave a Church pt. 4

My friend Rick keeps asking me, "Why is it so hard for you to leave RICC behind?" And by "keeps asking" I mean that he has been asking me for years. But now the question feels a lot more pointed, and the answer has become more complicated.

Rick and I share a lot of theology, and I've learned a lot from him about God and the history of Christianity. He and I started having conversations about The Church and God and other stuff more than 20 years ago. We took a break for about ten years, then picked right up again as though we had never left off. We have helped each other through some hard times, and I am very pleased to have him as a friend.

For years my parents suggested that maybe I should consider leaving RICC, though they have only visited a handful of times. Granted, they have only heard my side of the story, but they have heard it in almost as much detail as Rick has. 

My parents and I also share a lot of theology, which is not always the case with parents and children. It's good to find that I still like my parents, and can discuss religion and politics with them when I know so many people who have to avoid these topics.

My friend Tim told me to go back, but that was in order to practice forgiveness. He was all in favor of me shaking the figurative dust off of my sandals.

Today (February 7th, 2023) I talked with a former pastor of my home church, First Christian Church, Leavenworth, Kansas. Lynn was never my pastor, but I had met him and heard him preach a few times. I sent him the first two Roblog posts about how to leave a church, but had not talked about it with him at all (though my parents had). My Dad suggested that he might be able to offer me some insight into my situation, and perhaps help me see a path moving forward.

We met at Harbor Lights Coffee Shop in beautiful downtown Leavenworth, Kansas. Once we had our drinks (chai latte for me, smoothy for him), he wasted no time in saying, "I don't understand why you are still with this church. They refuse to allow you to practice your gifts, and are likely afraid of your theology. You do not owe them anything." 

With that, something clicked, and I felt release. Freedom. Forgiveness. Grace. People had been telling me the same thing. People I know and trust. But this time it was different. I asked him why he thought that was, and he told me it was most likely an issue of timing. I've been here a little over three weeks, with only eight days left. I've been attending my home church and Sunday School. I preached the second Sunday we were here, and it was different than the past seven years of preaching under RICC.

I use the word "under" deliberately. Under a thumb. Under harsh scrutiny. Under surveillance. I always felt exhausted after preaching there: wrung out, like a sponge. I thought that that was normal for preaching, because it was. It was my normal. But when I preached at Leavenworth First Christian Church, it left me energized! Before I had thought that it made sense: it is important work, and we should be focused on it, and it should be much more than a lecture in a classroom, so of course it should be tiring. 

But preaching here, it was like a conversation with the congregation about God! I watched the video, and my delivery was far from perfect. I stumbled over phrases, got some bits wrong, messed up the accents, and drank water like a marathon runner. But it connected, and maybe that wasn't in spite of the imperfections. Maybe it worked because I could let the imperfections happen!

At RICC I always felt that I was on trial while preaching, with a focus on making no mistakes, on having correct theology above all else. I was required to submit every single one of my 18 sermon manuscripts four or five days before delivering them. I received nit-picky, controlling feedback and had errors pointed out that I would never, ever have dared to point out in their preaching. Because at RICC if you are not a top dog, you keep in your damn place.

(That's it, Firebrand. You get one paragraph, that's all. Now go get a drink of water and calm down.)

(I actually did go get a drink of water! But two days later Firebrand convinced me to add the following example paragraph.)

My first sermon at RICC, back in 2017, was on Ephesians 4:7-10 (That's a link to the Roblog post, which includes a YouTube link. I'm guessing that once the current leadership reads this, they will take down all of my other sermons, but this one is on my personal account, so it stays.) Behind the scene is a story that I have not shared with many people, because I did not want to reflect poorly on my church. I do not tell this story now with the intention of making them look bad, but to illustrate some of the differences in how we thought about and did church. 

I was assigned the scripture six weeks in advance of the sermon, I workshopped it heavily with Rick for part of that time, and sent it to elder J on Tuesday of that week. (I tried to send it on Monday, but forgot to attach the file.) As I wrote this, I was not sure of the timing of the whole incident, so I went back into my email and looked up the exchange with elder J. Reading those emails again got Firebrand on his feet and ready to burn something down again.

I'm done with it. I let Firebrand take his shot, The Joker came in and made me laugh, and Bridge Builder is ready to work on something new. 

Encyclopedia Sack, however, is much like his namesake, Encyclopedia Brown. They don't rest until they have answers to their questions. And the question was, "Why was it so hard for me to let go of RICC?" (Remember? The first paragraph?) Here are the pieces of the answer that I have. They may not satisfy you, but as I write this (over the course of weeks), I find that I actually am satisfied.

1. My parents are still working at First Christian Church, where I grew up. Not working as in paid to work, but working to further the Kingdom of God through that church. They have had frustrations aplenty over the years, been through conflicts, members coming and going, a number of pastors, joys and sorrows. They are at the stage where they see more funerals than births, and they are becoming the literal elders of the church, as well as holding the title of elder (both of them! Female elder! Cue pearl clutching!) off and on over the years. They never gave up. I didn't want to give up, either. My father's motto is, "If you see something that needs to be done, call attention to it and then get started on it, whether or not anyone is working with you." (Hmm... Now that I think about it, that's kind of long for a motto. And yet, "Git 'er done" feels too short. Maybe he doesn't have a motto.) That's how I have always approached church, and I saw RICC as a church that needed a lot of work. 

1B. The Disciples of Christ  (the denomination of FCC Leavenworth) was created with the intention of ending denominations. The founders sincerely hoped that all Christians could come together to worship, maybe even becoming an ecumenical body of all people worshipping God. I like this goal, even though it does not seem humanly possible. 

2. Sunken cost fallacy. That's the one where after you have invested a lot of your time or other resources into something, you are reluctant to abandon it. I've known about this fallacy for years, and yet it was a huge influence in this major life decision, keeping me at RICC longer than I should have stayed.

3. Bridge Builder. That guy worked his figurative butt off. Took any acceptance of what I offered as a sign that they were starting to see things my way. Or that they would be open to my point of view at some time. Bridge Builder didn't realize that you can't build a bridge to people who are busy building walls.

4. Common Ground. RICC has some roots that I really respect. Their dedication to outreach, to supporting the Women's Hope Center (a home for pregnant women with no place to go), Remember Nhu (a group working to end sex trafficking in Southeast Asia), and Zeteo Missions (an orphanage in another Asian country that is not friendly to such organizations). A large part of RICC's budget goes right out into the world to do good. 

5. There are a lot of good people at RICC. People I enjoy being with, talking with, praying with, and serving with. At Leavenworth FCC I grew up singing, "The Church is not a building, the Church is not a steeple, the Church is not a resting place, the Church is the PEOPLE!" (emphasis mine). 

And of those people, some have always been children. Including mine. I laid low to protect my kids from the shame of being rejected. It was hard to let that habit go, even long after they moved to the Korean church where their grandparents have always gone.

Before my children left RICC (because there were no kids their age), there was a big crowd of kids, many of whom were in the family of the pastor and elders. Statistically speaking, when you have enough people, some of them grow up to find out that they are not heterosexual. The message coming out of RICC's pulpit with regards to homosexuality was not quite "abomination," but it was the kind of voice that drives people out of churches. And that's the best case scenario.

At worst, that attitude leads to conversion therapy, self-denial, self-harm, and suicide. If you haven't heard of conversion therapy, it is basically mentally and emotionally torturing homosexuals until they "pray the gay away." RICC never called for that step, or even endorsed it. We just alienated anyone with homosexual tendencies who walked through the door.

I imagined one of those children growing up to find that they didn't fit the mold that their parents, elders, and larger community insisted upon. I have heard far too many stories of the gay boy who jumps out of the 15th story window to escape his family and church. Of the gay girl who ends up living on the street. Of people who later in life must un-learn to hate themselves for who they are. I thought that maybe I could be the one voice in the crowd saying, "It's okay, God made you and God loves you, and I love you, too. We'll get through this together." BB loves movies like "Luca" from Pixar, where the kid who is different doesn't end up as a bloody smear on the street. (Spoiler alert, sort of? That the title character doesn't get stoned by a mob at the end is sort of a spoiler, I guess?)

It breaks my heart that I can't play that role as part of RICC. It twinges (not wracks) me with guilt that I never discussed that role with the leadership. It rouses Firebrand, but he's ready to move on, and knows that you need fire to build something strong.

6. Another character in Rob's Gallery played a part. I haven't introduce him in How to Leave a Church Part 2 or here, though you may have noticed him skulking around just off stage.

No one wants to talk about their Shame. Shame is quick to point out what everyone else is saying and doing. Shame is often found in the shadow of Imposter Syndrome, or in his pocket, or in the oily lies that he tells me.

Not shame at my thoughts or feelings, but shame at how I failed to act. How I failed to stand up for those who had less power than I did. I did not want the shame of being singled out as a heretic in this adopted family that RICC had become. 

7. Momentum and comfort always play a part in life. My life, anyway. I was comfortable at RICC, despite my issues. I was already serving and living with that community, and changing is HARD, y'all! I really wanted them to be more awesome! I really wanted them to be more accepting! I really wanted them to be more like Jesus! And I really didn't want to start over somewhere else.

As you can see from the date early in this post, it was four months in the making. Most of this one had a good chance to marinate, and I've rewritten bits of it three or four times. The last part, number 7, I added just now. If it feels a little unripe, that's because it's as green as can be. Fresh from my mind to whatever historical record the Roblog is.

Spring 2023 Update

 It is June 11th, 2023, and the last few months have been very eventful. I have neglected Roblog to the point that child health care services is starting to breath down my neck. I will try to hit the major points of the first half of 2023 in a single paragraph each, in the hopes that this unclogs my brain, freeing up the old pipes to unleash my wit (or whatever) on the page.

I took the kids to Kansas for 5 weeks, mid-January to mid-February. It was not quite long enough, but circumstances squeezed the trip at both ends. In the past, I've been ready to return to Korea, but this time I was not. I treasured the time spent with my parents in a way that I haven't before, in part because I am more aware of how old they are. It is a natural part of the arc of life to outlive one's parents, much preferable to the alternative. But that does not make it easy to contemplate. I am fortunate that they are both active, and in good health for people pushing 80. I am proud of the work they do in the church and community, from the homeless shelter to the prison to the library to a thousand little construction projects over the years. (It might sound like an exaggeration, but if my father has done fewer than a thousand projects, I would be surprised.)

Also on the trip Maxine and I started to seriously consider the idea of her moving to America on her own at some point. We visited the Kansas City Kansas Community College (KCKCC) campus in Leavenworth, and she actually found it inviting and maybe even a little appealing. The teachers and admins we met were also very friendly, and the facility itself looks like a great place to learn.

Horyon returned to work in February of this year, after a year and three months of medical leave. It has been a difficult transition, in part because she is now the 4th oldest teacher out of 25 in the school. She had been a homeroom teacher for many years, and now she is not. Her list of duties and responsibilities is shorter, and she doesn't have to stay into the evening more than a couple of times a month, rather than three or four times a week. But the pay is lower, and she feels less relevant. 

We are still reeling financially, so I asked for and received overtime this semester. I went from teaching 12 hours per week to 18, and discovered that I am no longer as young as I once was. I pour a lot of myself into my teaching, interacting with students and encouraging them both individually and as entire classes. I dislike grading, both the process and the idea of it, though I understand the need. Soon I will be administering final exams, then putting numbers on a screen which tell students how much they are worth. Ugh.

Maxine is absorbed in being a high school senior. Her school does a pair of big projects for their senior year: a drama that the class produces, and individual presentations on topics of their choice. This has taken a lot of her attention, and having a steady boyfriend (her 2nd, more than a year now!) and a tight circle of friends means that we don't see her much at home.

Quinten is in 8th grade, so the last year of middle school. They also do a set of projects like the seniors, only smaller. They did their individual presentations a couple of weeks ago, which had him staying up late at night and seriously stressing out. He did a fantastic job, and his presentation was clearly the best of the six students in his class. I know this, even though I do not understand Korean well enough to follow any of them, and was starting to sink under the first waves of Covid on that day. Quinten is getting tall, and may soon be taller than me. It will be nice to have someone else who can get stuff off the top shelf.

Yes, I finally got Covid. I managed to be quarantined during literally the last week that Korea was quarantining people with Covid. I never had much of a fever, and only a mild cough, but damn it made me tired. For about three days I could barely concentrate. Standing up to go the bathroom wiped me out, and I was sleeping for 12 hours a day. I am three weeks out, and still find myself making more mistakes than usual, thinking more slowly than I am used to, and unable to make thematically and structurally consistent lists of three that do not rely on a third point that is basically a synthesis of the first two.

I've played two concerts this semester, and been sick three times, including the covid. I both love my job and wish that I didn't have to spend so much time on it. I've watched too much Netflix for my own good, and spend too much time sitting in front of my computer. I haven't been on my bike in a very long time, and am afraid to get back on, knowing how much it will hurt. I don't think I have been out for a ride since Horyon was diagnosed with breast cancer in October of 2021. Maybe I just didn't want to do anything risky. Honestly, I'm not sure that I had a motive for not doing it. Laziness is usually sufficient motive for me to avoid damn near anything.

I have started to let myself become a part of the church I've been going to. My long-time friend Rick is now the pastor there, which helps. It has taken me a long time to pull back from cursing the very idea of church to wanting to be a part of it again. I have a better understanding of people who never make the return. And just a few days ago I had a new RICC-related experience: I started to mourn the loss of it. Reading from Psalm 124, 

"If the LORD had not been on our side when people attacked us,

they would have swallowed us alive when their anger flared against us, 

the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, 

the raging waters would have swept us away."

I read it and in my heart I heard, "my anger would have swallowed me alive, and I would have invited in the raging waters, looking forward to being swept away." And something broke inside, and I cried. And they were my first tears for RICC since I was invited to take my talents elsewhere. 

I was surprised at how good it felt to be sad about it, rather than angry. I believe that it is the beginning of mourning for RICC, and my loss of it. It is messy emotion that these words do not work, they don't show the truth of it, because I don't know exactly what it is that I am mourning. But I will dwell in it, and I am grateful for it. 

There is more to this semester, but much of it escapes my addled brain at this late hour. It is just after one a.m., and I have spent less than an hour and a half writing this. Usually I would set aside a Roblog piece for a day or two, then reread, maybe run it past someone else. But this one is going out raw. 

Sunday, March 19, 2023

Orlando (How to Leave a Church pt. 3)

[I wrote this in June/July of 2016, as a response to a sermon that was (sort of) delivered at RICC by a former pastor. I did not publish it at the time because I let fear take control.  I apologize to anyone who thought they were alone in feeling this way, especially if you felt like the target was on your back. More thoughts after the letter. - 2023 Rob]


[It should go without saying that this is a work of fiction on my part, but perhaps it's better if I just say it: this is me trying to understand how someone could agree with the pastor's approach. - 2016 Rob]

June 20, 2016

Dear Pastor:

Let me start by saying that I was a bit worried about how you would handle the Orlando incident* this week, especially when I saw the verses you had chosen for the sermon: Romans 8:28 "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." You hadn't mentioned it last week, but it had been just the night before. By this past Sunday we have all had a week to think about it, and I was curious how you would approach it.

* This was a pretty big incident. From the Wikipedia article: "On June 12, 2016, Omar Mateen, a 29-year-old man, killed 49 people and wounded 53 more in a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, United States. Orlando Police officers shot and killed him after a three-hour standoff... It is the deadliest incident in the history of violence against LGBT people in the United States, surpassing the UpStairs Lounge arson attack in 1973, the deadliest terrorist attack in the United States since the September 11 attacks, and was the deadliest mass shooting by a single gunman in U.S. history until the 2017 Las Vegas shooting."

I mean, you can't just come right out and say that those homos being killed was a good thing, even though that is clearly what Paul is telling us here. Some members of the congregation might get offended if you said that gunman was working for God's good will. The bleeding hearts might even suggest that some of those dead homos loved God, even though their twisted lifestyle surely testifies (sorry, testified) that they don't.

Then I thought, "Maybe he's going to spin Orlando as a warning to the survivors to turn from their wicked ways, so that they don't die and go to hell." That is one reason God sends punishment, right? When God let that entire generation of Jews die off before entering the Promised Land (because they were cowards), it was a warning to the next generation! "Shape up and follow The Lord, or else!" I know, they didn't do a very good job of that. But what do you expect from such a "stiff-necked" people, right?

But you didn't go there. When you pointed out that this Bible verse is not a positive message for every human being, but only those who are "called according to His purpose," I knew it was coming! The gays in that bar were clearly not called according to God's purpose, so they serve as a counterexample! Here it comes!

But you didn't make the connection. Again. God is judging them right in front of the world, and you didn't point it out. I was mystified.

You got to the end of the sermon, reminded us that without Jesus we are nothing, and that we believers should have faith that all things work for good in our lives, even if we can't see it. Then you prayed. You hadn't brought up the dead homos even once.

But by the end of your prayer I realized the genius of what you had just done: You had demonstrated that the 50 homos who died in Orlando didn't matter enough to be worth mentioning at all in relation to this scripture! We all had a whole week to mull over the shooting at that queer club, and we found that they weren't any more worthy of mention than the pig who died for the pork soup we had for lunch after church! Genius! It reminded me that what you don't say is sometimes more important than what you do say!

Westborough has the right idea, but they're doing it all wrong! The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference! And if we know for a fact that the homosexuals have turned their back on God, losing the right to His love, then we know what the proper response is to their grief.

Silence.

Sincerely,

A Church Member


Some thoughts (in 2023) on this unsent response

First of all, I have revised this piece in an attempt to make the messaging more clear. I added the Wikipedia reference footnote, but also tried to sharpen the language to make the viewpoint clearer. I was also not happy with the signature, so I went simple. There is a bit of the Strawman to this Church Member, but the past few years have shown that there are more men like him than we care to admit.

I can clearly see the Rob's Gallery at work in this piece: Firebrand and The Joker got together with Encyclopedia Sack to craft this satire. I was aiming to skewer a target just over the shoulder of the audience, forcing them to question the wisdom of standing near that target. 

Then Bridge Builder stepped in and declared that publishing this would be burning a bridge too far (he likes bridge metaphors). He had the backing of Sympathetic, and Imposter Syndrome is always ready to fight for inaction. But they were not alone. Whispering from the shadows was Fear. Fear of being branded different, a heretic. Fear of being rejected, ejected from the church. Fear of losing my standing. In hindsight, fear was a near constant companion during my time at RICC. I wonder how many other people attending feel that way. ("ONLY YOU!" screams Syndrome, but everyone else shrugs and puts him back in his corner.)

Looking back at this letter, the accusation of weaponizing silence seems particularly accurate. In one of my last conversations with the pastor of RICC, I asked him to consider what role I might play at RICC moving forward. I asked him to pray about it, and listen to the Holy Spirit.

I should have left it at that, but Firebrand was fed up with being in the back seat. He reached forward and grabbed the wheel: "I don't believe that you are very sensitive to the Holy Spirit, pastor, but maybe you will prove me wrong."

I never received a response. I know the excuses: a pastor is always busy. Other things come up, and the back burner gets further back. Another excuse is that I never followed up, but the last I checked I was in the low position in the power dynamic. Maybe I was supposed to grovel. Beg for crumbs. Or maybe the pastor just didn't give a shit.

More than 10 years of service, from music to prayer to teaching to tech. Apparently none of it was worthy. I am the first to admit that letting Firebrand speak may have burnt the bridge, but when a pastor is incapable of forgiving a few harsh words from someone who has served and supported and loved for so long, maybe they don't really need an excuse to scrape you off and put you out with the trash.

I was pissed at the silence RICC showed after the shooting up of Pulse in Orlando. They were happy to rant about gay marriage becoming legal, and how it was destroying American society, but dead gay bodies were not worth commenting on. But I remained silent, because I wasn't gay. I was silent again and again, and then my silence caught up with me.

They know it works. Maybe they don't know that it works because it hurts.

Tuesday, February 07, 2023

How to Leave a Church, part 2

"I was a poker player. And in the most public way, I was a poker player. Even though I was spending most of my time doing speaking and consulting, my public face, the way that people knew me, and the way I identified myself, was as a poker player. And if there's one thing that I learned from writing this book, the hardest thing to walk away from is who you are. That's the most difficult thing we ever face."

Annie Duke, from the podcast "People I Mostly Admire" episode 93: Annie Duke Thinks You Should Quit. (Annie Duke's episode of PIMA on Apple Podcasts)


I heard this a few days ago. (Well, probably more than a few, at the rate I compose these things. It was December 13th, 2022. I shudder to think of when I will hit the publish button.) I immediately paused the podcast, and let it dwell in my mind. It was not exactly a comfortable thought, but it felt like a necessary one.

I downloaded and read a sample of her book from Amazon.com. It's a self-help book, complete with exercises for you to fill in. I found it to be thought provoking, though the sample was not connected to the quote above.

This idea of walking away from who you are is a tough one. I have found that walking away from myself as a leader of RICC* has been a tough trip, and not one that I had a say in taking. I was told directly by RICC's pastor at a private, scheduled meeting, that I was no longer welcome to lead small groups, and would not be asked to preach again.** This judgement came after I had served at RICC for ten years in various roles: leading many Life Groups***, teaching Sunday school, preaching 18 sermons between June 2017 and August 2020, leading and working on the team that does slides for worship, singing and playing my euphonium with the praise team, working on the welcome team, helping to coordinate our Covid response and online worship, organizing and leading a few special services, and I'm sure some other stuff. I was also on the leadership team that met every month, but apparently not on the leadership team that decides who gets asked to not be on the leadership team.

*Redeemer International Community Church, the only independent English church (that I know of) in Busan, South Korea.

**Putting this in writing in a public space is unsettling. It's making my stomach sink. I'm still not sure whether it's a roller-coaster sink or an oh-crap-I-might-die sink, even though it was 11 months ago. Well, it was in February 2022, so probably more than 11 months.

***The official name for our outside-of-church meetings to study the Bible and "live life together." RICC doesn't usually have adult "Sunday School" time on Sunday, so this is the work-around.

This journey has made me more aware than ever of the versions of myself that make up who I am. I am going to introduce you to the Rouge's Gallery of Robs, but first I have to warn you: some of this is going to get raw. Like if I were a celebrity, I might get cancelled over it. I am not exactly crying havoc and letting loose the dogs of war, but I am going to let you get right up close to their cages.

The Firebrand version of me has demanded over and over that I do my best to tear down RICC. He demands justice. Not just for me, but for everyone who has quietly walked away from the only independent Christian church in Busan. Firebrand wants to demand his inheritance (all the money I have given over the years will do, since I can't get the damn time back) like the prodigal son, if only to provoke a negative response to rage at. He figures that we could circulate a petition to change the constitution so that the leadership structure of RICC is more democratic, so that we (me and Firebrand) could be elected. And maybe a woman or two. And a homosexual, for sure. Along the way, sowing seeds of dissent against elder-for-life M., and the pastor basically appointed by former elder J. (J's words, not mine!). Calling attention to the black-box decision making machine, and the condescending attitude towards members of the church, which is still better than the way they treat non-members. Starting some much needed, cleansing fire. "Some men just want to watch the world burn," Alfred says of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Firebrand demands justice, but I wonder if maybe he's just looking for a target.

Wow. It's funny how writing about him feeds him, makes his voice louder. I have written and cut more rants out of his section than any other. He would be happy to lay out the rest of the plan, work on some details, then cut the whole thing into a document that is definitely not going on the Roblog. Because a plan like this works best if it is secret. Would it be gaslighting to start rumors about how the leadership misuses church finances? I would only be asking questions, not actually saying anything like that. Firebrand has a shaky relationship with ethics, and he firmly believes that the end justify the means.

Bridge Builder (BB*) is the main opposition to Firebrand, and darn near always wins out. BB wants to see everyone get along, and is willing to put in work and sacrifice himself to make it happen. BB is a natural part of me, but he is pretty high maintenance. BB's first thought after being ousted was "Ya know, you could still be friends with the pastor. In fact, now we could be actual friends, without the boundary of me being a member and him being the pastor. In fact, maybe there's room for me to be a sort of mentor to him!"

* I considered Rob the Builder, but it feels like copyright infringement and a trigger to parents with kids who were fans of Bob the Builder.

BB is always optimistic. At times ridiculously so. BB is always willing to forgive, even when it makes me look like a complete fool. BB extends grace to people who haven't earned it. BB wants to get everyone involved. BB doesn't like to see people treated badly, but will accept bad treatment to make things work out well for everyone. BB still holds out hope that reconciliation will happen between me and RICC, and may never really give up that hope.

The Imposter version of me (Syndrome, of course) wants to meekly accept this as my just desserts. I pushed back against The Leadership, and got exactly what I deserved. How exactly I pushed, and what rules I broke are not exactly clear, but what is clear is that I never really deserved any sort of leadership position in the first place. I had a lot of nerve even bringing it up. This is the guy who tells me it's all for the best. That all the compliments I've received over the years were just people being charitable, not giving me what I really deserved. Good preaching? Well it was fun, and well delivered, but did I really express God's will? I might have even convinced some people that churches are inherently messy and just joining one is asking for trouble. 

The Intellectual version of me (Encyclopedia Sack... now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time...) goes completely analytical: the rules that this church put in place for itself, the conservatism borrowed directly from American Southern Baptist theology meant that it was inevitable that someone with a more liberal understanding of scripture and faith would either self-deport or come into conflict. The intellectual understands that people in power have a natural tendency to hold onto that power, even though they will justify it by pleading theology. Encyclopedia Sack (E.S.) can see the arrogance as being natural, and human. In fact, ES is often the first to point it out in me.

The Sympathetic version of me is always looking to better understand the elders of RICC. He doesn't see what they did as right, but he understands why they make their decisions. (Or at least he thinks he does. - E.S.) He knows that to them, protecting God's Word and Church is top priority, and anything that threatens either one needs to be dealt with. They don't like church discipline, but view it as necessary to maintain integrity. In their hermeneutic there is only one way to understand any given scripture, so if you connect all the dots, read the right Biblical Scholars (who happen to be the ones who agree with you! - E.S.) then no matter how unpleasant the conclusion you come to, it must be correct. Sympathetic me is not just guessing at this, it's what I heard from the pastor. Sympathetic harbors no suspicion, and accepts what he is told at face value. Sympathetic says (in my head, and out loud to the pastor), "It's understandable that you got rid of me. I even feel bad for you having to do that. I don't want to hurt you, or RICC."

The Joker (who is not a smoker, but occasionally indulges in midnight toking) is the version of me who lives for the laugh. If The Joker had managed to lay claim to about 10% more of my mental make-up, I might have become a stand-up comedian instead of just a teacher/preacher/friend who is occasionally amusing. The Joker gets a lot of lines cut from everything I write, including this post. I thought about giving him a name other than the one held by Batman's nemesis, but it's important to remember that my Joker carries a razor in his shoe and hangs out with Firebrand. Even after years of training by Sympathetic and BB, the Joker still occasionally teams up with Firebrand to cut someone else, or he joins Syndrome to cut me. In my RICC situation, the Joker has been dying to tell this one:

So this guy dies and goes to Heaven, and St. Peter gives him the grand tour. The guy asks him, "Who are those people having a huge party with dancing and music and all the fun?" 

Peter replies, "They are the sinners who had given up hope of being here. They are so happy that they haven't let up since they arrived."

Next the guy asks Peter about the group of people who are sitting in a huge church, participating in an orderly worship service, joy on their faces. "Lutherans," Peter replied. "They figure it got them this far, why not continue?"

The guy is astounded at the variety of communities he sees, until he comes to a wall surrounding an area, with "Quiet Please!" signs posted every ten feet. Peter shushes the guy, and says, "Try to keep quiet around the RICC compound. They think they're the only ones in here!"

If you didn't find that funny, try changing RICC to whatever self-righteous exclusive religion you prefer. If you can't think of one, you are probably in one.

Did I mention that the Joker has a razor in his shoe? In his other shoe he has an axe.

I know. That was a bit brutal. I considered just talking about the Joker, rather than giving him a voice, but my intention is to be honest here, with myself and with you. And the Joker is part of who I am, as are BB, Firebrand, Sympathetic, ES, and Syndrome. I like to think that "I" (whatever that means) affect them, but their growth and change over the years seem to be mostly independent of my will. I get some control over who is in charge, but I don't get to fire anyone.

I can't quit these guys. These guys are who I am. Well, part of who I am. There is also Teacher (who believe it or not goes by "Robert!" So formal, right?), Daddy (the namesake of Roblog's address, and a name that will likely morph into "Dad" before too long), Husband ("Honey" on a good day, "Yah!" on a bad), and Friend (just "Rob," but you know that). Most of the time I suppose the inside of my head is like the bridge on Star Trek, or the Pixar movie Inside Out, with different aspects of me taking command at different times, but rarely getting a chance to pilot solo. 

When you dig all the way down, though, you find the same thing that you find in all of us: the image of God. Blurred. Corrupted. Maybe you want to divide my gallery into angels and demons, or yin and yang. Creation and Destruction, Hope and Fear. The Light Side and The Dark Side. You might be tempted to label members of the Rob's Gallery as one or the other, but I refuse to do so. They are me, and I love them all. Even the troublemakers.

And to be perfectly clear: in my mind there is only one clear voice. My voice. The me inside me.

A Brief Introduction

Roblog is my writing lab. It is my goal to not let seven days pass without a new post. I welcome your criticism, as I cannot improve on my own.

Here is a link to my cung post, which remains the only word which I have ever invented, and which has not, as far as I know, caught on. Yet.