Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts
September 23, 2010
Something to read
I love this post. (I love most posts by this author, but this one is especially nice.)
February 9, 2010
Apprehension, wealth, and number two
I often want to blog about religion, but I'm apprehensive. It feels inappropriate to discuss the scriptures and my testimony on the same site where I talk about poop. (Maybe I should just stop blogging about poop. Yes, these links are all unique posts concerning poop.) I've thought of starting yet another blog devoted solely to religious topics, but religious experiences are meant to be shared. And I'm lucky enough to have people that actually read this blog. I have mentioned church before, but there have been many moments where I've wanted to share an insight or an experience, and have held back. How do all of you other bloggers feel about this? Does any body else share similar reservations about publicly blogging about their testimonies? I think community is a vital element of testimony (I'll expound on that in another post), so I'm going to try and overcome my apprehensions and post more often about religion.
(Even though I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this knows me in real life, here's some brief background. I was born and raised in the LDS church. I went to BYU. Since college, I've been sporadically active and am trying to change that "sporadically" to "regularly." Regardless of my activity level, I've always lived a Mormon lifestyle and have a very strong testimony of the church.)
I'm going to start out slow. I LOVE Mormon blogs. My absolute favorite is Feminist Mormon Housewives (site not working currently, see here for now), though By Common Consent is a close second. Earlier today, I was reading a book review on Times and Seasons. It reminded me of several other excellent posts I have read on various bloggernacle sites about wealth and prosperity. For a couple of highlights, see here, here, and here (especially Amri's comment 17).
Each of those posts resonated strongly with me. Not because I think I'm wealthy (though I know compared to the rest of the world, I really am), but because I see a lot of wealth in my family. My family is very conservatively Mormon. They are very generous with sharing their wealth. But they subscribe to the idea that wealth is a result of righteousness and hard work. I think hard work often (but not always) relates wealth, but I firmly believe that wealth is largely obtained through luck. There are plenty of evil lazy rich people and even more good hard-working poor people. Prosperity (as defined in terms of dollars and assets) comes from being dealt a really good hand and knowing how to play it. I don't like conflating it with religion and righteousness.
I remember a family vacation, at my uncle's lake house. I was sitting with my dad in the upstairs living room, overlooking the lake that was just outside the back door. My dad asked me if I ever look at all this and wonder why I wasn't born into this family. Why I had the bad luck to be sent to my dad instead of his more prosperous younger brother. My dad was acknowledging the luck aspect of wealth, but still assigning it more importance than I think it deserves.
Whether I like it or not, ideas of wealth and prosperity are heavily infused into our religious culture. It's an interesting and often emotionally-charged discussion. Is wealth good or bad, or is it more complicated than that? For those of us lucky enough to be wealthy (and really, all Americans should be considered wealthy), what are righteous uses of that wealth? How much of that wealth should we be sharing? Where do we draw that line between want and need? While I'm not exactly sure how I feel about any of it, but it is definitely a discussion worth having.
I know that's kind of a cop-out ending. But if I felt like I had to have draw persuasive mind-blowing conclusions every post, I'd never talk about anything but poop. And thus ends this installment in Jamie Tries to Talk About More Religion. (This doesn't mean I'm going to stop posting about silly things. In fact, look for another one of those obnoxious Survivor posts coming soon.)
(Even though I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this knows me in real life, here's some brief background. I was born and raised in the LDS church. I went to BYU. Since college, I've been sporadically active and am trying to change that "sporadically" to "regularly." Regardless of my activity level, I've always lived a Mormon lifestyle and have a very strong testimony of the church.)
I'm going to start out slow. I LOVE Mormon blogs. My absolute favorite is Feminist Mormon Housewives (site not working currently, see here for now), though By Common Consent is a close second. Earlier today, I was reading a book review on Times and Seasons. It reminded me of several other excellent posts I have read on various bloggernacle sites about wealth and prosperity. For a couple of highlights, see here, here, and here (especially Amri's comment 17).
Each of those posts resonated strongly with me. Not because I think I'm wealthy (though I know compared to the rest of the world, I really am), but because I see a lot of wealth in my family. My family is very conservatively Mormon. They are very generous with sharing their wealth. But they subscribe to the idea that wealth is a result of righteousness and hard work. I think hard work often (but not always) relates wealth, but I firmly believe that wealth is largely obtained through luck. There are plenty of evil lazy rich people and even more good hard-working poor people. Prosperity (as defined in terms of dollars and assets) comes from being dealt a really good hand and knowing how to play it. I don't like conflating it with religion and righteousness.
I remember a family vacation, at my uncle's lake house. I was sitting with my dad in the upstairs living room, overlooking the lake that was just outside the back door. My dad asked me if I ever look at all this and wonder why I wasn't born into this family. Why I had the bad luck to be sent to my dad instead of his more prosperous younger brother. My dad was acknowledging the luck aspect of wealth, but still assigning it more importance than I think it deserves.
Whether I like it or not, ideas of wealth and prosperity are heavily infused into our religious culture. It's an interesting and often emotionally-charged discussion. Is wealth good or bad, or is it more complicated than that? For those of us lucky enough to be wealthy (and really, all Americans should be considered wealthy), what are righteous uses of that wealth? How much of that wealth should we be sharing? Where do we draw that line between want and need? While I'm not exactly sure how I feel about any of it, but it is definitely a discussion worth having.
I know that's kind of a cop-out ending. But if I felt like I had to have draw persuasive mind-blowing conclusions every post, I'd never talk about anything but poop. And thus ends this installment in Jamie Tries to Talk About More Religion. (This doesn't mean I'm going to stop posting about silly things. In fact, look for another one of those obnoxious Survivor posts coming soon.)
April 14, 2008
Public Humiliation at Church
I was reading old threads at this website, and have read several posts in the Public Humiliation at Church thread. It's very entertaining, and I wanted to share my story. That thread is several years old, so sharing on my blog seemed more appropriate. (I wouldn't want to humiliate myself.)
I was in Primary, and it was Easter Sunday. I was still in Junior primary, but in the oldest class. I specifically remember sitting in the back row. The sharing time lesson was on the crucifixion, and as a visual aide, the primary president had brought in cups of vinegar. There were six plastic cups on a tray, and we were supposed to pass them around, smell them, and decide if we would want to drink it.
But I'd been day dreaming (as usual) and didn't hear the set-up. All I noticed was that for some reason, they were passing out drinks! And that I was suddenly really thirsty. I remember thinking it was so unfair that the primary leader only put six cups on the tray. Six! There were around 30 kids in there, and I was in the back row! Luckily, it seemed like no one else was thirsty. Not even Jill and Carly, and I knew they'd never pass up free water. They'd take the tray, smell the water, and shake their head "no thank you." I was suspicious, but mostly anxious that all of the water would be gone before I could have any. I watched as the tray came closer, giddy that no one had taken any of the water. So it comes to me. I lean over the cup as if I'm smelling it (I had noticed everyone else doing that, and didn't want to be different), and nod "yes." Apparently my desire to be the same as everyone else was not overruled by my thirstiness. I go to drink it, and my teacher reaches over and grabs it away from me. I sit through the rest of primary hurt and confused. And a little thirsty.
I was in Primary, and it was Easter Sunday. I was still in Junior primary, but in the oldest class. I specifically remember sitting in the back row. The sharing time lesson was on the crucifixion, and as a visual aide, the primary president had brought in cups of vinegar. There were six plastic cups on a tray, and we were supposed to pass them around, smell them, and decide if we would want to drink it.
But I'd been day dreaming (as usual) and didn't hear the set-up. All I noticed was that for some reason, they were passing out drinks! And that I was suddenly really thirsty. I remember thinking it was so unfair that the primary leader only put six cups on the tray. Six! There were around 30 kids in there, and I was in the back row! Luckily, it seemed like no one else was thirsty. Not even Jill and Carly, and I knew they'd never pass up free water. They'd take the tray, smell the water, and shake their head "no thank you." I was suspicious, but mostly anxious that all of the water would be gone before I could have any. I watched as the tray came closer, giddy that no one had taken any of the water. So it comes to me. I lean over the cup as if I'm smelling it (I had noticed everyone else doing that, and didn't want to be different), and nod "yes." Apparently my desire to be the same as everyone else was not overruled by my thirstiness. I go to drink it, and my teacher reaches over and grabs it away from me. I sit through the rest of primary hurt and confused. And a little thirsty.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)