Last Christmas a friend of mine gave me some bath products from a store called Lush. I LOVED them, but alas, there is no Lush in Philadelphia. There is one in DC and one in NY, but not in Philly. So, ever since I moved here I have been meaning to go. Lush is located at 34th and Broadway right on my train line, so it would be very convenient for me to go.
Today, for some reason I decided to go after work. I guess I had a case of amnesia regarding the Republican National Convention because 34th and Broadway puts me smack dab in the middle of the mess. I naively got off at 34th to find police blocking the 34th and Broadway exit. (It still doesn’t dawn on me what this might be about.) So, I roll my eyes, mutter to myself, and walk to another exit. When I surface, low and behold it seems the less sane half of the world is all there: the streets are barricaded, police are every where and TV cameras abound. I figured that I already spent the $2 to get there, I might as well experience this piece of life going on around me, and so I continue the Quest. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find a place to cross the street. Everything is blocked off. I can see Lush, I just can’t get there. I end up walking down 35th to 6th to cross the street and come back. On my way back up 35th a caravan of police vehicles come whirring past. The cops jump out simultaneously, keep their doors open and don riot gear. They begin marching toward the crowd I just walked through not 5 minutes ago. When I was there, a few random people were shouting. Now, it was a whole chorus of anti Bush slogans and the police were at the ready. But, I am on a quest so I watch for a minute, thank God for good timing and keep going. I finally get across the street to my mecca of bath products. The lights are on, sales people are inside, but the door is locked. I try it again, thinking, “This can’t be so. When they see I am not a crazed protester, they will let me in and I can experience all the lushness that is Lush.” Just then an exasperated sales person points to a sign on the door. “Lush will close today at 6:00 for inventory. Please come again tomorrow during our regular hours.” AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
THE QUEST WAS IN VAIN!!
Ahh, but no! I am next door to Daffys and Macy’s and H&M. I continued my shopping—but remained slightly distracted because of the lack of Lush-ness in my life.
I will continue the Quest another time. But I think I’ll wait until the RNC is over.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Monday, August 23, 2004
Forgiveness
I read a sermon by Marvin McMickle tonight in Living Water for Thirsty Souls. It’s book on exegetical preaching—I doubt that most of you will ever encounter this in your day-to-day book reading. However, I do recommend reading sermons on occasion, they make wonderful devotional material.
At any rate, I was reading this sermon on Luke 23:32-42 titled “Father Forgive Them”. It’s all about forgiveness. It is a very powerful message. In one section he writes:
“I have argued in the past that even Judas could have received this gracious forgiveness and a second chance in the service of Christ, if he had not failed to understand the message of Jesus. The tragedy of Judas is not what he did to Jesus, but what he did to himself. He took his own life. He committed suicide. He hanged himself by the neck until he was dead, all because he never understood what Jesus was saying in those parables about the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. The very essence of God’s mercy and grace is giving undeserving sinners a second chance. Judas could have been forgiven. If he couldn’t be forgiven, then neither can we. For who among us has not, on more than one occasion betrayed Jesus in word or deed?”
Well, I’ve just been put in my place. I’m knocked off any pedestal I’ve managed to put myself on today. Me and Judas – both in dire need of God’s unending mercy.
At any rate, I was reading this sermon on Luke 23:32-42 titled “Father Forgive Them”. It’s all about forgiveness. It is a very powerful message. In one section he writes:
“I have argued in the past that even Judas could have received this gracious forgiveness and a second chance in the service of Christ, if he had not failed to understand the message of Jesus. The tragedy of Judas is not what he did to Jesus, but what he did to himself. He took his own life. He committed suicide. He hanged himself by the neck until he was dead, all because he never understood what Jesus was saying in those parables about the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. The very essence of God’s mercy and grace is giving undeserving sinners a second chance. Judas could have been forgiven. If he couldn’t be forgiven, then neither can we. For who among us has not, on more than one occasion betrayed Jesus in word or deed?”
Well, I’ve just been put in my place. I’m knocked off any pedestal I’ve managed to put myself on today. Me and Judas – both in dire need of God’s unending mercy.
Getting from Point A to Point B
Everyday I take what is known as an “express” train to work. I put express in quotes because for some mysterious reason this train moves remarkably slowly. When I commute in from Queens I take two local trains for a greater distance and get to work faster. I am not sure if there is some sort of time warp between Brooklyn and Manhattan or if this train is just prone to: more suspicious packages, more sickness, more police investigations, or anything else your imagination can conjure up. Boy howdy, I can’t wait for the Republican Convention to cause even more creative delays.
The train makes me think of a large serpent lurching its way through the streets and tunnels of New York, inhaling and exhaling people through the gills that run the length of its silvery body. On my way into work it gradually inhales more and more people until it is full to capacity and then all the sudden when we cross that magic bridge into Manhattan it quits holding its breath and quickly exhales so that people spill out of its gills.
When I’m dumped out in Chinatown I’m in a world very different from the one I left. I hear high pitched fluted music coming from the park. As I walk past there are scores of people of all ages practicing dance, Tai Chi, swords and fans. They all sway and move in slow motion to the rising and falling sounds of the chimes and flutes coming from speakers I am yet to locate. Past the park I walk through the streets, past delivery trucks carrying all kinds of wares. The other day I saw two men carrying dead pigs over their shoulders.
In Brooklyn I walk down a row of auto mechanic shops that are lively in the morning and closed when I come home in the evening. But in the midst of all the garages is a church that is always open. No matter what time I walk by I can see people in front the altar praying. It is an Orthodox church with a beautiful Icon painting of Jesus in front of it. The gilded depiction always catches my attention and reminds me of my purpose for the day. On some evenings the church doors are open and I can smell the incense wafting outside. It is as if I can smell the prayers of the people. The very presence of this church ministers to me at the opening and closing of every day.
The train makes me think of a large serpent lurching its way through the streets and tunnels of New York, inhaling and exhaling people through the gills that run the length of its silvery body. On my way into work it gradually inhales more and more people until it is full to capacity and then all the sudden when we cross that magic bridge into Manhattan it quits holding its breath and quickly exhales so that people spill out of its gills.
When I’m dumped out in Chinatown I’m in a world very different from the one I left. I hear high pitched fluted music coming from the park. As I walk past there are scores of people of all ages practicing dance, Tai Chi, swords and fans. They all sway and move in slow motion to the rising and falling sounds of the chimes and flutes coming from speakers I am yet to locate. Past the park I walk through the streets, past delivery trucks carrying all kinds of wares. The other day I saw two men carrying dead pigs over their shoulders.
In Brooklyn I walk down a row of auto mechanic shops that are lively in the morning and closed when I come home in the evening. But in the midst of all the garages is a church that is always open. No matter what time I walk by I can see people in front the altar praying. It is an Orthodox church with a beautiful Icon painting of Jesus in front of it. The gilded depiction always catches my attention and reminds me of my purpose for the day. On some evenings the church doors are open and I can smell the incense wafting outside. It is as if I can smell the prayers of the people. The very presence of this church ministers to me at the opening and closing of every day.
A Place to Think
I have always thought of people who blogged as people with an exhibitionist streak. It’s something that I have mentally said I would not do. However, while thinking these thoughts I frequent my friends’ blogs and enjoy what they have to write. I enjoy them more so now that I live in New York and most of these friends live in Philadelphia. It’s a way to keep track of what’s happening in their lives and what they are thinking about—things that don’t always come up in phone conversations.
So here I am writing my very first blog (excluding my online “journal” from when I was in Thailand). I’m here for two reasons. I just returned from a weekend visiting friends in Philadelphia and I spent the weekend answering the question, “How’s New York?” and my answer of “good” did not seem to suffice. So, I thought that just as I keep up on their lives through their blogs, I’d return the favor. Secondly, I realized that something I miss from seminary is having a forum to share my thoughts with others and hear their responses. In other words, this is a place for “Deep Thoughts by Michelle.” (If you did not get the SNL reference there—you just made me feel old.)
So to begin to answer the “How’s New York?” question. I can reply that it is not what I expected. Not that it’s bad. It’s just not what I expected. It’s like planning for a day at the beach and then finding out you’re going to play Frisbee in the park. Frisbee in the park is fun, too. But it’s a little hard when you’re in your swimsuit and you’re wearing flip-flops instead of sneakers and you brought a beach towel instead of a Frisbee. It’s a good plan, you’re just not totally prepared for it.
So here I am writing my very first blog (excluding my online “journal” from when I was in Thailand). I’m here for two reasons. I just returned from a weekend visiting friends in Philadelphia and I spent the weekend answering the question, “How’s New York?” and my answer of “good” did not seem to suffice. So, I thought that just as I keep up on their lives through their blogs, I’d return the favor. Secondly, I realized that something I miss from seminary is having a forum to share my thoughts with others and hear their responses. In other words, this is a place for “Deep Thoughts by Michelle.” (If you did not get the SNL reference there—you just made me feel old.)
So to begin to answer the “How’s New York?” question. I can reply that it is not what I expected. Not that it’s bad. It’s just not what I expected. It’s like planning for a day at the beach and then finding out you’re going to play Frisbee in the park. Frisbee in the park is fun, too. But it’s a little hard when you’re in your swimsuit and you’re wearing flip-flops instead of sneakers and you brought a beach towel instead of a Frisbee. It’s a good plan, you’re just not totally prepared for it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)