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Review: Pros & Cons of my move from Android to iPhone 4S

Reviewing an Apple product is seen by some as akin to critiquing the Godhead itself. So I will tread lightly. But, I do want to note some pros and cons of my new iPhone 4S as compared to my previous phone, the HTC Droid Incredible 2.

Upsides of iPhone 4S

  • form factor – the phone just feels and looks sooo much better. It feels like a honed piece of art, my Android just felt like a manufactured phone.  (Btw, my insurance policy from SquareTrade came with the slickest slim case around. And I can get you 20% off insurance policy. Let me know.)
  • App Store options are better and higher quality
  • overall slickness of operation — email just works and syncs with Mail on my laptop; it doesn’t crash; no fiddly menu buttons.
  • Siri, the “personal assistant” who accepts voice commands like, “make an appointment tomorrow for me at noon with Frank,” or “remind me to call Megan when I leave work.” A tad gimmicky, maybe, but enough of a “I’m in the future” feeling that it’s a big bonus. Also pretty sweet for no hands texting.
  • battery life is amazing compared to Android. A – maze – zing!
  • camera is very high quality and FAST

Downsides of the iPhone 4S

  • the Apple maps program does not give verbal directions, as did my Android. I miss this.
  • iCloud syncing is much slower than syncing on Android — e.g. when you put an event in iCal on your laptop or phone, it doesn’t sync to the other device until the phone is plugged in overnight. Same with Address Book. This is silly, and potentially problematic.   One can change this by going to Settings / Mail, Contacts, Calendars / Fetch New Date set to Push / Advanced / iCloud / Fetch
  • My old Android linked people’s Facebook profile info — pic, phone number, address — to their Contacts page on phone. I miss this. (I’m told this can be done through the Facebook app. I tried it and it didn’t work, but I’ll give it some time as 1200 folks’ pictures, etc. is a lot of syncing. Update later….)
  • no ability to tether to my laptop for internet without paying Verizon big bucks.
  • setting the volume all the way down, by pressing the minus key on the side, still leaves it at one level of noise. I wish I could take that to nothing and have the phone simply vibrate.
  • screen on my Android was maybe 20% larger than iPhone screen (though the iPhone feels more portable, like I’m less likely to drop it)

Yes, there’s a much longer conversation to have about Apple’s app policies versus Google’s, as well as the fact that Google allows many phone manufacturers to use their operating system while Apple does not. Indeed, Apple is not Jesus. Steve Jobs is not God. But, overall, my iPhone 4S is more magical than my old Android, and not by a little.

My indoctrination into the cult of Apple deepens.

UPDATE: check out the comments for further clarification of several points.

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Occupy Wall Street & Christian Theology, a Conversation

Last night at Theology Pub we hosted a conversation consider the Occupy Wall Street movement and Christian theology. In truth, when I scheduled the topic, I was a bit nervous about how it would go. After all, the Christian church these days sometimes feels more like a corporate conglomerate than a fringe movement taking to the streets. The conversation, however, went beautifully and I left contemplating the many cross-over notions of Christianity and the #Occupy movement (OWS).

In last week’s news roundup on NPR, NY Times columnist David Brooks said, “I think the Tea Party is like, 11 percent of the country. My estimate is that Occupy Wall Street is 2 or 3 percent of the country in what they actually want to do.” I’m not sure what Brooks thinks “they actually want to do,” but last night a fairly mixed group of young adults — Christians, atheists, seekers, seminarians, pastors — was definitely more than appreciative of the movement. Here’s why.

First, we considered how OWS might connect to Jesus’ notion of the “kingdom of God.” (See Brian McLaren’s piece here.) Conversation hinged on what a new version of the world might look like, one in which there is less income inequality, everyone has a voice, and diminished injustice. We considered, also, how the Kingdom of God is something that is not only coming in the future, but something that we can glimpse here and now. Perhaps OWS can remind and inspire Christians to live out that kingdom mentality.

Second, since the OWS folks seem to be living out certain intentional practices such as offering hospitality, food, prayer, tearing down of golden calves, and so on, we wondered with Elizabeth Drescher how OWS might be seen as a spiritual practice. Folks were less open to this notion, as they didn’t see religious identity as a determinative aspect to most folks’ participation in the protests. Certainly there are exceptions (such as the Protest Chaplains), but I was personally intrigued how folks seemed to be willing to make a distinction like, “People do this not because they’re Christian, but because they’re fed up with injustice.” I don’t like that distinction one bit, but it seemed to drive several persons’ thinking and went over without much debate.

Third, the move of OWS to “kill the Buddhas of power and hierarchy in our society,” as Nathan Schneider considers here, was quite compelling to folks. Our young adults needed almost no time to point out different idols of wealth, power, prestige, celebrity, nationality, even unquestioned democracy that needed to be called to account. (Of course, it’s always easier to point out the false idols of others than it is to claim your own hangups.)

Finally, we ended with a brief consideration of how sin (both personal and societal) might be way to put Christian language to the brokenness OWS folks are protesting.

At the end of the night, my uneasiness about the OWS topic has subsided, only to be replaced by another troublesome reality. Our conversation went so well, tapping into much of Christian theology and the Bible, that I mourned the fact such polite, wide-ranging, political conversation would be difficult to host in many mainline churches. But then again, according to the young adults gathered last night, it’s not Christians who push this justice stuff anyway.

image by Rob Sheridan

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He says on SheSays: Forum’s new Women Section must go

My local newspaper, the Forum of Fargo-Moorhead, recently launched a new section: “SheSays.” No, you have not just been transported back fifty years (after all, you’re reading this post on a blog and the section title — “SheSays” — is clearly modern because it lacks the space between the words. SoHip. IfOnly.) Judging from the printed letters to the editor, the backlash to the section has been significant. I’d like to add my voice.

The October 2 article explaining the reasoning behind the new section is now ensconced behind a pay wall, so I can’t access it as I compose this post. Nancy Edmonds Hanson, a former Forum reporter, did quote from the introductory piece recently, however, expressing her frustration in an October 15 letter to the editor.

Hanson makes multiple sound arguments. First, she worries that women’s issues have been returned to “the ghetto” of a special section. Next, she discusses the history of the Forum nixing the “women’s” section years ago, writing, “Somewhere along the line, The Forum’s leadership finally recognized that many, many of the topics now been relegated to SheSays aren’t limited to women. Food, gardening, raising children – they’re obviously of interest to male as well as female readers.”

Her wise words continue, ending with praise for what The Forum does best — “your staff includes many of the most talented writers and news photographers in the region” — and basically calling for The Forum to distinguish itself from women’s issues magazines, gossip rags, and fluff.

Hanson, and many others, have expressed their dissatisfaction clearly. I understand, times are tough for the news industry. Ad revenues are falling. People seem to care less about local news, even as strapped national news agencies make their content available for free online. But, even so, a women’s section? Really?

I have two nieces living fairly near Fargo. I hope they never read The Forum’s SheSays section. If they did, I fear this is what they would gather:

  • that the place of girls and women is the SheSays section, not Politics, or the Sports section, or Business
  • that women are the only partners who care about parenting, and when they do so it’s mainly about what food to serve and how to deal with problem children
  • that female reporters’ stories should be read with suspicion since so many are secluded  in one section
  • that women’s issues are distinct from men and the rest of society, that rather than being part of a community that must address gender pay disparity together, sexism together, and understands the full flourishing of women as a communal issue, it’s only an issue for women to discuss amongst themselves (if at all) and men have no part in it

All that said, I know no reason to assume ulterior motives, or that the SheSays move was anything other than a good faith move by the Forum to present a fresh look at women’s issues. Indeed, we have a long way to go on gender issues in the region, not to mention broader battles over race, sexuality, economic justice, and more. But I don’t think a special section is the way to go. It sends a mixed and confusing message, at best. I hope to see SheSays go, even as nuanced, deep, and thoughtful coverage of the gender issues that affect us all, continues.

image by Hilde Vanstraelen

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6

Can one protest corporations while wearing JCrew and using an iPhone?

 

One of my more conservative friends posted this picture on his Facebook page recently, shared under the headline, “It’s funny, because it’s true.”

I get it. Ironic, right? Maybe so. Yes, the captions make a point, but it’s not one I find compelling. In fact, it illustrates just how important the protests are, and how challenging it is to live in corporate America.

Some folks might argue, I suppose, that if you use buy something from a certain corporation (a MacBook, say), then by that purchase you declare your support for the company. In a market economy, you speak with money. The reasoning goes: if you don’t want to support Apple, don’t buy a MacBook. Simple enough.

I can appreciate the directness of this approach. I wish life were as simple as that. But, it’s not.

If it were, I couldn’t ever complain to a company after I bought their product…but I do.

If it were, I couldn’t lobby my representatives after I voted them into office….but I do.

If it were, I couldn’t both go to church, financially support its ministry, and at the same time work for change within the church…but I do.

In an NPR report by Margot Adler, Occupy Wall Street protester Jason Ahmadi acknowledged this tension. He said, “McDonalds that’s where we use the bathroom. Verizon, that’s how we, you know, give you our live stream that we’re broadcasting.”

And that, my friends, is the lovely, beautiful, challenging, tension of our times. It’s the gray. That’s how I can proudly pay taxes, and advocate the government spend them differently. That’s how I can buy Patagonia long pants, and email them suggesting they make an “extra long” variety as well. That’s how I can say, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”

In short, that’s how I live: simultaneously sinner and saint.

So the image above, rather than demonstrating the silliness of the protests, actually illustrates, for me, their great importance. Long live the tension, those who shed light on it, and all who struggle with the questions of our day.

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Review: Mark Pierson’s, “The Art of Curating Worship”

For various reasons, the worship experiences I’ve been leading for The Project F-M have looked very little like Sunday morning worship in most Lutheran or Presbyterian churches. At one event, we met in a park, responded to psalm 51, enjoyed prayer stations spread out over the area on several quilts, and grilled burgers. At another, we met in an old train depot, watched a video clip, and lit some candles.

As I’ve planned these events, I’ve organized a complicated assortment of worship practices that “feels right” to me. That’s not to say it’s about worship that makes me feel good—what some friends have called worship as “spiritual masturbation”—rather, I’m getting at the idea that there’s no straightforward guide to worship with a group of “spiritual, not religious” folks who are suspicious of the church. So, instinctually as a pastor and leader, I do what I expect might work. Now that I’ve read, The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the Role of Worship Leader by Mark Pierson, I have some help.

Mark Pierson’s book describes his curating philosophy as a worship leader in the Baptist Church in New Zealand. Those aware of the experiential worship movement towards interactive prayer stations, Open Space, guerrilla worship, etc. will not be bowled-over with surprise. If anything, the book could be strengthened by shortening and adding some pictures (for real!). But overall, it’s a good, thoughtful foray into the new world of experimental worship practices.

Pierson lays it out clearly in the introduction:

I’m concerned that too few church leaders and so-called worship leaders have more than a single, narrow model for what they do in public, corporate worship. I’m concerned that they seem unaware they are boring their communities to death with shallow, bland worship. I’m concerned that many of these people have spend several years in theological institutions that haven’t prepared them for the realities of worship and spiritual formation with a congregation. I’m concerned that my young grandsons won’t be able to find communities that will nurture their faith without them having to undergo cultural circumcision. All this grieves me greatly.

I take it he’s one of those tell-it-like-you-see-it people! Basically, Pierson loves the church, but also really strives to bring fresh art and culture into worship. He thinks—and shares stories of when—this sustains people in their faith in ways traditional worship does not. The book is a very postmodern, let’s-give-it-a-try, questions-are-good, Jesus-messes-with-our-assumptions type of work. It should definitely be required seminary reading.

Much of the book consists of stories from Pierson’s personal experiences curating worship. While those are helpful, I would have appreciated a broader perspective. Also, the book has little scholarly work to show for it, leaving it open to an all too-common (and worthy) critique with emerging literature: it shows little appreciation for what has come before. That said, a short book can only do so much, and Pierson showed no flippancy towards liturgical studies, he just decides that’s not his turf.

Despite it’s flaws, I’m aware of no better book to really get folks asking questions about how to worship differently. For those in traditional worship settings, The Art of Curating Worship might be a help for folks seeking to claim what about their traditional worship practices they cherish.

A few weeks after finishing the book, I’m left with more questions than answers, which would be good news to Pierson. He writes, “Don’t be afraid to ask and not be able to answer, even during a worship event…Jesus was asked 180 questions in the gospels. He answered only three directly.” Have questions about how one curator of alternative worship practices his craft? This book’s for you.

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26.2 Miles: Marathon Running and its Questionable Ends

Perfect weather. Fun course. Hundreds of thousands of spectators. Fall colors. I completed the Twin Cities Marathon at its finest on Sunday.

I’m glad I ran the race. In so doing, I proved to myself my first marathon wasn’t a fluke. But, honestly, this one was also incredibly painful, vastly time-consuming, and perhaps not fully worth the trouble.

Folks say I’m supposed to be on cloud nine for days after completing a marathon, but I’m just not feeling it. Or, rather, I’m feeling something else. Let me explain.

After my first marathon, I felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. Before running, I wasn’t totally sure I could finish. I had only run a few half marathons before, and 26.2 miles seemed like an eternity. But I finished (pretty slowly, 4:57), and I could claim I had run a marathon. That newness, proving to myself and the world that I could do it, was a huge motivator.

At the Twin Cities, though, I didn’t have quite as much of a drive. The novelty had worn off. I knew I could finish, and barring huge complications I’d do so faster than before. I did want to run. There wasn’t any question about my intentions (partly because 2.5 years ago I had planned on the Twin Cities being my first marathon, but the Sunday schedule had made that difficult). But intentions aren’t everything, so though I was glad to be doing it, I found I lacked the competitive-streak that many runners have.

I had a goal time (which I barely missed, at 4:31), but I’m not too upset about it. The most annoying part, actually, was that for the last five miles I was so nauseated I could barely run. I wish I could have made myself throw up, but I wasn’t in control of my body enough even to manage that! At the finish, after calmly collecting my medal and T-shirt and meeting my kind fans, I had to lie down for 20 minutes or so. Every limb went numb for a while. Every position, sitting or lying down, was agony. I was hurting, bad, real bad. (Megan was concerned, real concerned.)

My body doesn’t like marathons. I can get through them. I could run many more. But they feel far from marking health and wholeness. After 20 miles or so, it just gets silly.

As best as I can tell, I trained for the Twin Cities by running around 350 miles in preparation. That’s a lot of Saturday long runs, a lot of time away from Megan, a lot of NPR listening. I’m glad I did it — I can say I’ve run two marathons now — but I think the cost-benefit analysis has flipped for me. I never got the high from this second one that I did with the first. I’m not much concerned with beating my 4:31 time. I don’t see the wisdom of investing the time and complications for training.

I love running. It keeps me healthy and sane, and serves as a great spiritual practice. But I plan to retire from marathon running. Half marathons, 10Ks, etc. are lovely. Who knows, maybe I’ll do a sprint Triathlon one day. But, marathons just make me sore.

 

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Social Media Blackout: This Time It’s Personal

I’m quitting social media. For a few days next week, that is. I think I might make it an annual occasion just like Harrisburg University. Readers might remember last year at this time when Harrisburg University of Science and Technology imposed a week-long ban on social media use on campus. Well, they’re at it again.

This week the university is blocking access over its network to Facebook, MySpace (who cares?), Twitter, and LinkedIn, as well as all instant messaging services. The administration can’t get at smart phones, I suppose, they’re not God after all.

Dr. Eric Darr, Executive Vice President and Provost of the University says,

It is not intended to be a punishment nor is it intended to be an indictment of social media. In fact, access to all social media sites was still possible over mobile wireless devices, proximate public networks or home-based networks.  The hope is to make habits and effects of social media use more visible and understandable, particularly in the classroom, through temporary abstinence.

I love it! Plus, they talk about the ban in panels (and surely dorm rooms), so perhaps the students really can reflect.

I’ve decided to institute my own ban next week. I’m taking a few days of stay-cation plus three days visiting St. Johns Abbey and staying in the guesthouse. I’m pretty pumped for quietness, prayers, walking the trails, viewing the St. John’s Bible, and decidedly not Facebooking, Google+ing, or tweeting.

Harrisburg University conducted surveys and focus groups to reflect on the social media blackout last year. Some students reported better concentration in classrooms, more time spent on homework, and a better understanding of the value of face-to-face conversations. 33% reported feeling less stress during the blackout week.

Did I mention I’m looking forward to next week?

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