I have had my struggles with the church, and, like Jacob, I have wrestled with God. One point of difficulty I often return to is the intersection of church and economy. To tithe in support of your local community is an imperative, yes, but what God would ask us to put money in the plate though it would put us in debt or require us to deny ourselves some basic need? I have all of these problems with church finances and yet this Sunday, as I returned to church for the first time in months, I felt the desire to give. After clocking in 92 hours of labor during the past two weeks, I received the largest paycheck I’ve ever seen from any job I’ve ever worked at this Friday. I won’t go into detail, but a proper 10% of this check would be over $100. That means that I could have put a Benjamin into the offering plate if it weren’t the case that every cent from that paycheck was already earmarked for some basic need or payment on debt.

I say this as an introduction to a bigger revelation I had this week. In the past, I have been quick to latch on to some truly righteous causes. I thought it right to “come out” as an ally to those in the LGBTQ community about six years ago, and when my black friends and colleagues on Twitter and Facebook begged others not to be silent about the injustice that was taking place in Ferguson MO I made my position clear. However, my wife made an important point clear to me, namely that however much concern I felt for issues such as these, none of these struggles are my struggle. In other words, it is inauthentic and sometimes damaging to proclaim myself, a cisgender heterosexual white male, to declare myself as any kind of champion of LGBTQ, POC, or women’s rights. It is not wrong for me to show concern for what is going on in the world of the underprivileged – in fact, I believe it is true that an injustice anywhere is felt everywhere – but the world doesn’t need white knights. The world needs people speaking from their experience of suffering while actively listening to others as they do the same.

The revelation came last night, though it was probably obvious to everyone else. My struggle is with debt. When I was young, my parents took on debt just to raise us kids. I had my first credit card when I was just a teenager, and before I bid farewell to credit cards for the rest of my life I had to pay off a significant balance that had built up. I took on more in debt than I would like to admit publicly to fund my education, debt that I cannot currently see an end to paying. In addition to all of this, many of my loved ones have taken on massive debt just to treat illness, some facing bankruptcy in the process.

Debt is my story. I have plenty of it, I’m currently working to rid myself of it once and for all (and that involves not taking out more debt, which is difficult when you want to have a house some day), and if I’m worth any of the ethical training I’ve accumulated from old family sayings to degrees in philosophy and theology, I am going to have to work for the rest of my life to tackle this horrible worldwide system of debt through education and action. This does not mean that I have to abandon my concerns for other issues, not by a long shot – if you think that the issue of debt has nothing to do with the struggles of minority groups in America, then you haven’t done your research – but I am certainly going to stop attempting to speak for others. It is not that the oppressed are voiceless; it is just that few people are listening.

I look forward to the day where I don’t have to worry about paying off debts, so I can put my 10% in the offering plate. At Fountain Street Church, all unmarked cash goes to their Social Action Grand Program, after all, which means my money would be working for the same cause as my writing – economic justice. I know this sounds like some naval gazing right now, like I am just honking my own horn for the fact that I am pointing in the right direction despite not having done any real good, but I have been spending weeks in contemplation trying to find the fastest way out of my own personal debt situation. You cannot imagine how liberating it is to imagine a world where that is behind me and all I have to worry about is where to aim my generosity.

I welcome any of you to take this walk with me and share your stories. In fact, I’d be happy to publish your thoughts on the blog as a guest post if that’s something that you’re interested in. Otherwise, just leave some good words on the topic of debt, labor, income inequality, or whatever. To quote a couple important voices on the topic:

You are not alone.
– Michael Jackson

You are not a loan.
  – Strike Debt!

Believe it or not, I heard this song at church today. If you’re not hip to it – just as I wasn’t hip to it mere hours ago – this is a song called “Come On Up To the House” by Tom Waits. It is nice to know that there are churches who embrace songs of suffering and liberation regardless of their source, because this is not a song that you’re likely to find in a standard hymnal. Tom Waits clearly has an interesting relationship with religion.

As an added bonus, the concept and delivery of this music video by Anders Lovgren is really neat. We could burn all the books and the truth would still be written on us and written with our actions. This song makes me want to welcome people into my house, regardless of whether or not they wipe the mud off their boots before they come in.

I had a chance to check out ArtPrize 2015 today. For those of you who are not familiar with ArtPrize, it is a festival that lasts from September 23 through October 11 this year in Grand Rapids, Michigan. During this time various acts of art are displayed both inside and outside and visitors have the option to vote for which pieces they like the most.

Because Amy and I live downtown now, every day is ArtPrize. Wherever you go, you see some kind of art. In fact, it kind of reminds me of living in New York. Whenever I would walk from any one point to any other point, I had this high probability of stumbling across some nationally- or world-renowned landmark that I had never seen before. Obviously, ArtPrize is not quite as big as New York City, but it is definitely interesting here at this time of year.

I attended Fountain Street Church this morning and took time to peruse some of the art displayed inside the historical building where they hold services.

The first piece that stood out for me was a sculpture titled, “World Peace – The Hope” by Lee Kronenberg. You can call me a sucker, but the simplicity of the message is enough to win me over. On the table nearby this installation there is even an interactive post card which reads

CAN YOU MATCH
The Word to the Language?

and then lists “Fred,” “PAZ,” “ειρηνη,” etc., on one side and “French,” “German,” “Arabic,” etc. on the other. I’m a nut for world languages and a hippy at heart, so “World Peace – The Hope” was a shoe-in for my vote.

While I was certainly inspired by this homage to peace, my current forerunner (after viewing the pieces displayed at only one venue) is “200+” by Candace Compton Pappas.

This painting of a wide variety of birds caught my eye immediately, but when I read the placard next to it I was nearly brought to tears. Another simply piece, “200+” is Pappas’s meditation on the mass kidnapping of schoolgirls in Nigeria by the terrorist group Boka Haram that was announced in the news in April of 2014. To date, there are still over 200 girls unaccounted for, so Pappas got up one day and decided she was going to paint a bird for each missing girl.

It is hard to give an idea of how enormous this painting is and how grave its message. Make sure to add Fountain Street Church to your itinerary as you plan out your next week of ArtPrize viewing. For those of you who are not religious, Fountain Street Church has dedicated their interior viewing areas to works of art that tackle difficult issues of social justice from war to economic inequality to violence in the name of religion. In fact, some of you may have recently read about Nabil Mousa’s piece titled “Paradise Built on the Bones of the Slaughtered,” a piece that was to be displayed at Grand Rapids City Hall but which was pulled from ArtPrize before anyone could see it because it depicted burnt holy scriptures attached to the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. Mousa had originally petitioned to have his fourteen-foot indoor sculpture displayed at Fountain Street before he was offered the space at City Hall, and returned to the church once City Hall revoked him. Ultimately, the church board decided that they couldn’t afford to hire private security contractors to guard the controversial piece, so it looks like it is going to remain with Mousa in Atlanta instead of being displayed at Grand Rapids’ ArtPrize. I can understand Fountain Street’s concerns. I still find the City’s motives suspect.

Finally, I was sad to learn that a sculpture by Ella Faktorovich titled, “Unholy,” could not be displayed at Fountain Street Church because it was damaged during shipment from San Francisco. From the image I was able to see in the ArtPrize App this piece certainly looked like something I would be interested in.

Ella, if you’re reading this, I have little doubt that I would have voted for “Unholy.” I want to express my condolences. As someone who has taken on his fair share of creative enterprises, though none quite as beautiful as this, I know that the work can take on a life of its own. As such, I mourn with you in the loss of this breathtaking piece. I have had the privilege to see this photo, but I would have been happy to see it in person.

Enjoy ArtPrize, visitors and residents of Grand Rapids. This is my first year to seriously take it in, and I’ve already come across some pieces that have really made me think, feel, and bask in awe. I expect there will be more to come.

It’s Sunday and it is time to catch up on the best the internet had to offer during the past week. If you have any article suggestions for the Sunday Roundup send me a tweet @tbone1225.

Sad tidings all around in Tom Mitsos’s last post for The Hockey Writers

Tom Mitsos discusses how the death of coach Mike Babcock’s father may have contributed to a difficult March for the Red Wings in his final post for The Hockey Writers titled “Mike Babcock Coaches With Heavy Heart in Red Wings’ Loss.”

We are going to miss your reports about the Detroit Red Wings for The Hockey Writers, Tom. The Sunday Roundup is going to be a different entity from here on out without you, as is The Longest Wind. Thank you for all of the work you’ve done in the past. We remember it fondly!

–The Longest Wind staff, readers, and family

This is not an April Fool’s joke.

Ted Cruz as a symbol of our American past, or, America’s League of Evil Exes

“In many reflections about the political life of Christians in the U.S., members of the dominant culture will find a myriad of ways to avoid discussions of race.” Rod Thomas points to the Golden Age “ideals” Ted Cruz represents for the USA and how most of them are under-girded by racist foundations in his post “Christian Politics From The Underside” for The Resist Daily.

And finally, the funniest (and least convincing) April Fools joke of the year

https://twitter.com/AndrewWK/status/583356013832740864

It’s Sunday and it is time to catch up on the best the internet had to offer during the past week. If you have any article suggestions for the Sunday Roundup send me a tweet @tbone1225.

Justin Abdelkader’s controversial goal leads to Red Wings victory over Blues

Nobody wants to win or lose because of a technicality, but Tom Mitsos describes how Justin Abdelkader’s questionable broken stick goal was just what the Red Wings needed in his article “Ugly Win Just What Doctor Ordered for Red Wings” for The Hockey Writers.

Andreas Athanasiou makes a case for topping Anthony Mantha on depth charts

In light of Anthony “Tony Hockey” Mantha’s injury, Tom Mitsos describes Andreas “Double A” Athanasiou’s ascension in the ranks of Red Wings prospects in his article “Moving on Up: Andreas Athanasiou Climbing Red Wings’ Depth Chart” for The Hockey Writers.

Not much has changed in the state of Mississippi

Richard Thomas writes about how many of the racial injustices of years past continue to plague modern-day Mississippi in his post “Lessons from #Selma50: #4: Mississippi STILL Burning #TCUCRBT” for The Resist Daily.

Prospect Dylan Larkin is skilled but has much to prove at professional level

Tom Mitsos analyzes two-way forward Dylan Larkin’s performance at college and junior level hockey and forecasts his AHL/NHL success in his post “Red Wings Prospect Dylan Larkin: Should He Stay or Should He Go?” for The Hockey Writers.

After Ten Years of NuWho

Joshua Toulouse reflects on the best of the best Dr. Who episodes released since the show was “regenerated” in 2005 in his post “The Top Ten NuWho Episodes in Honor of the Tenth Anniversary” for Fat Train.

Love in a Time of Hydra ups the ante for Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD

“[N]ow, the world of S.H.I.E.L.D. (and the ‘real S.H.I.E.L.D.) is not only fully connected, but also a  much larger, more impressive adventure than anyone could have imagined.” Anthony Ocasio of Screen Rant makes his case for why the most recent episode of Agents of SHIELD titled “Love in a Time of Hydra” has transformed the show into one of the best ways to enter the Marvel Cinematic Universe in his article “‘Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’: And Then It Became a Top 10 TV Show.”

There is no goalie controversy in Detroit

Tom Mitsos details how holes in defense and other issues contributed to an unsuccessful month of March for the Detroit Red Wings in his post “Red Wings’ Issues Go Far Beyond Jimmy Howard” for The Hockey Writers.

It’s Sunday and it is time to catch up on the best the internet had to offer during the past week. If you have any article suggestions for the Sunday Roundup send me a tweet @tbone1225.

The children we encounter along our journey

Gabe Pfefer reflects on the Lenten lessons derived from the mother/son relationship of Mary and Jesus in his post “Relationship: One of Jesus’ most important final words” for Ephphathoughts.

The Civil Rights Movement’s inability to confront white supremacy at its core

Richard Thomas describes the process of simultaneously eliminating racist legislation and the white supremacist ideologies that under-gird them in his article “Lessons From #Selma50: #3 From White Sign to White Mind” for The Resist Daily.

Red Wings cannot coast now and still make the playoffs

Tom Mitsos joins team captain Henrik Zetterberg in calling the Red Wings out for excessive fear of puck in his post “Red Wings Respond to Captain’s Criticism in Statement Win” for The Hockey Writers.

Just ask the Ducks:  Naming your franchise after a movie is a bad idea

“Would you be proud if your city named its team after a Will Ferrell movie?” Tom Mitsos discusses why the Flint Firebirds is a better OHL team name than the Flint Tropics in his post “Flint Tropics Would Have Made Mockery of New OHL Team” for The Hockey Writers.

The NHL ponders reducing the amount of nightly skills competitions

Tom Mitsos discusses three systems intended to limit the amount of NHL games decided by shootouts in his post “Which Overtime Format Should the NHL Adopt?” for The Hockey Writers.

The future of theology is now (or 2069, one of the two)

“It’s 2069 and Rick Santorum was never even born.” In the spirit to Mallory Ortberg’s piece “It’s 2050 and Feminism Has Finally Won” for The Toast, Gabe Pfefer of Ephphathoughts writes a satirical religious post called “It’s 2069 and the Complementarians Have Finally Lost.”

Panthers catch Red Wings by the tail

“Why the Red Wings constantly play down to their opponents is a concept that I haven’t been able to grasp.” Tom Mitsos discusses the frightening fact that the Red Wings losing games they should be winning in “Panthers Perplex Red Wings Again” for The Hockey Writers.

Education matters for goalie Jared Coreau

Tom Mitsos of The Hockey Writers interviews Grand Rapids Griffins call-up and regular Toledo Walleyes goalie Jared Coreau in his article “Jared Coreau Q&A: Shower Singer Extraordinaire?”

The githzerai never did learn from his mistakes.

When he watched The Shining City disintegrate before the might of a devastating arcane weapon that he’d powered, Wiliken had dropped his sword and abandoned the life of a blackguard warrior. This is true.

But then he’d picked up the bow, and in so doing he gave his soul over to war once again.

Wiliken and company had made some powerful enemies in their short time together. They’d traveled deep into enemy territory only to put a target on their backs, because the moment they crash landed the severed bust of an other-worldly leviathan into the tranquil fields of the realm they had all grown to know and love, the sound and fury alerted everyone in the region to their presence. It was only a matter of time.

He’d very nearly learned the value of a calm mind on the battlefield. After nearly getting killed in the pits of Valgaman’s Menagerie of Doom simply because he’d rushed into battle rather than assessing the situation, Wiliken had taken to meditation.

But rather than removing himself from the cosmic drama and acquiring inner peace, the visions pushed the githzerai toward the pursuit of justice at any cost.

When the first enemy to find them turned out to be a troop of ogres covered in tumors and various grotesque animal parts — a feathered wing here, a pig’s snout there, and never in the proper place either — vulgar tongued imps, and a single githzerai as their leader, Wiliken showed no restraint.

“I know you’re there,” the other githzerai had taunted. “I’ve been watching you, dad.”

“Dad?” the bewildered mage Jenkins said.

“The githzerai is my son,” Wiliken said. “He calls himself Iiuza, but he is no son of Iuz.”

Wiliken hoped to hurt his son with these words, but thinking of his wife, the woman Iiuza had hunted down and killed, the githzerai softened. “Why did you do it, boy? Why did you kill her?”

“She was a traitor like you,” Iiuza said. “All traitors die the same traitor’s death.”

Wiliken rushed his son just as he’d rushed to rescue the camel Jean-Baptiste, only to be cut down the bolts of two hidden basilisks in a battle that seemed to take place so long ago.

Wiliken loosed three arrows as he charged at his son.

When a raiding party of githzerai entered this realm to battle Iuz, Wiliken had been the only one to survive. He’d allowed the Iuzians to take him prisoner rather than continue to fight beside his brothers and sisters, placing his life above theirs. He’d valued his moving up in the ranks of the Iuzian army over his relationship with his wife, and now she was gone. Instead of raising his son to serve the good, Wiliken had wallowed in the evils of his past, and so Embrion became a far more villainous “Iiuza” than Wiliken had ever been. In the last few weeks Wiliken had tried to put his selfishness behind him in service of the Barony of Felshore and the allies who’d rescued him from Valgaman’s doom.

But he left those friends behind in pursuit of vengeance.

The githzerai’s arrows missed their mark, but his son’s blades proved more accurate. Iiuza teleported three times, and each time he left his father with a wound more deadly than the last. The first was a slash to the arm that caused Wiliken to drop both his bow and his guard. The second was a stab to the gut, which alone would have killed Wiliken in due time. The third was a slash across Wiliken’s throat.

Wiliken never managed to learn from his mistakes, so he died as he’d lived — alone.

Thus ends Campaign Stories.