It is hard to say if my feeling of relative calm came about solely because of Things, but Friday felt much more productive than Thursday. I started to force myself to put a task into the application before ripping right into it, lest I become distracted halfway through it and skip right to the next one. It is the first GTD application that I have ever tried, which means that I have either never placed much faith in the methodology or I have never had the kind of workload that necessitated such an approach.

It is likely the latter conclusion. At my last job, we used and abused dotproject to keep all of our proverbial plates spinning and projects on schedule. The tasks and projects themselves were broken down into large chunks of time — add functionality to the Web site, produce a flyer, update a mailing list, etc. With my new home, there are dozens of more time sensitive sub-steps that have to happen in a particular order — return a phone call, submit scheduling request, follow-up on a bug ticket status, etc. As I described to someone earlier this week, I can manage multiple tasks at once, but my limit is four or five. That sixth one can bring the entire process to a screeching halt. My investment in a few pieces of software should help me stay on top of it better.

With work-related thoughts filling a good chunk of my brain this weekend, today’s service offered a rare pause to my racing mind. As it was All Saints Day (the day after Halloween), the entire order of service was about remembering those who had passed on in the last year, as well as the host of other “saints” that they joined. After the sermon, ribbons were hung for the two church members who had died in the last year. A third was hung in memory of family members and friends. There was still one of those who is very fresh on my mind.

Confession time: there are two things that will crush my composure faster than anything else the good Lord has put on this little blue planet. Both of them are related to music. My breath becomes short, my eyes tear up and it will take every ounce of energy I have within me to stand or sit at attention when either are played. The first is “Taps” on a trumpet, as it will bring back very vivid memories of my paternal grandfather’s military funeral. The second is any instrumental version of “Amazing Grace,” but bagpipes seemed to be the culprit today. The moment that our pastor (donning a kilt and all) hit the very first note, I was shattered.

It was a moving service in message, music and prayer. The breeze that moved through the sanctuary caused the bells on the ribbons to ring gently. I can only say that as speculation, as my eyes were turned away from them and toward the ceiling with my sockets becoming cups that I was trying desperately not to spill over. It didn’t work, and Samantha gave me a tissue. I took a bit of comfort that this loss of composure was not a failing, but had become the rule. No one that spoke for the remainder of the service did so with their most articulate and leveled voice. It was a time for broken hearts to mend anew, even if we had managed to put aside the heartbreak by focusing on our busy lives. It has given me a whole new perspective on the Monday that starts in a few hours.

“Did you see the size of that fish?” If you hear this question during a weekend outing, it is in my humble opinion that you must have done something right in planning it. For us, it was heading out to a church retreat at Bethany Hills Camp in Kingston Springs, Tenn. Seventy or so members of Eastwood Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) made the trek down interstate 40, billed as a day for rest, relaxation and renewal.

The children played down by the lake, occasionally joining in with the fishing expedition. Others gathered around the campfire for stories and an occasional outburst of camp songs. Still others played horseshoes or tossed around a football. It was a reunion of sorts for the many who had been campers, camp counselors and staff over the decades. For us, it was our first visit.

Sitting on a porch with Samantha while looking out over all of the activity, it really began to sink in what the words “church community” really mean. Here we had the full gamut of ages, backgrounds and personal experiences in one place, enjoying all of God’s creation. It really cannot be accurately captured in the words on a brochure or church bulletin. In these few hours of escape from our day-to-day pressures, I felt so much more at peace with the world around me. There are many changes coming ’round the bend for me, and this was a fantastic opportunity to get my bearings set.

Here are a few other pictures from Saturday.

Empty net goal. Chicago wins. The Predators are on the outside looking in with only two games remaining.

Is that not how life is at times? We get ahead, get knocked down by the unexpected, fight back, only to still end up behind at very critical moments. The economy certainly has left a number of people feeling that way, with hardworking people finding themselves suddenly out of a job after putting in years and years with their employer; they are let go with a phone call or company-wide memo. Those out of work cannot seem to catch a break either. It has not been much of a year for the underdog, with no Cinderella stories being told. Those that are down-and-out often stay that way these days.

This introspective is not spurred on by anything in particular, just a realization that the limits of our desire to hope for a better tomorrow continue to be tested time and again. We are not living in a time when you can just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and expect to have any better of a chance to succeed. There are people around us who, under normal circumstances, would fight through a tough economy by making those sacrifices and giving it the extra effort. But nothing is harder to take than to be told that your best is just good enough.

At church this past Sunday, a man stood up and asked us all to pray for those who had recently lost jobs and homes. It was a very simple request, but one that many too often forget or choose to ignore. There is awful lot of hurt in our communities, and it would do us all a bit of good to become more aware of and compassionate about it whenever we can. Perhaps a kind word or an uplifting prayer is all it takes to help someone make it through to the next day.

My story with regular church attendance is a mixed one. As a young teenager, I had attended Baptist, Presbyterian and Methodist congregations at some point for extended periods of time. I eventually settled on a rural, Missionary Baptist church down a long highway and literally surrounded on three sides by corn fields. It was there that I found salvation and declared membership through baptism during a Wednesday night service in September of 1997.

I remained fairly active in the church until moving to Nashville in 1999 to finish up my junior and senior year of high school. I only visited a few times after that and hardly at all when I started college 15 miles away. It was during that time that I came to realize that my personal walk in the teachings of Christ and the church as an institution did not always mesh. They were not irreconcilable differences, rather a sense that my worldview might cause discomfort if shared with certain congregants.

My faith never really wavered: I deeply believe in a higher power, and while my conversations with the Almighty are less frequent than they have been in the past, I take great comfort in knowing that there is a grace out there that can accept me despite my many faults and that, through faith, all things are possible.

I have enjoyed, and have even been deeply moved by, our previous visits and the warm welcome that has been extended. I am excited that we are starting this new journey together.

The evening’s reading was from the book of Exodus, as was a recent sermon at the church my wife and I attend. Both held to the central message that Moses, a great leader of the Israelites he delivered from slavery and led them for 40 years in the wilderness to the brink of Canaan, stands as a testament to faith in God’s plan.

My personal faith is not something that I regularly share or outwardly celebrate. I readily admit that my conversations with the Creator are few and far between, but for what they lack in frequency I like to believe they make up for in substance.

A fraternity brother from another chapter and even another generation shared with me this short prayer some time ago. Dr. Roger Festa is a faculty member at Truman State University (Mo.) and the chapter counselor for the Sigma Phi Epsilon chapter there.

A Young Man’s Prayer (From the Jesuits)

Lord, mighty God,
In power and wisdom You shape me and my world.

You chose my life-world – my time, my city, my language.

You give me understanding and passions;
You fill me with desiring and with energies.
You give me voice to sing songs to You for all creation.

For all that has passed between us, I thank You.
To all that You are now doing in me, I say yes…
In the name of Him in whom everything says yes,
Jesus, My Lord and good brother.

Amen.

Tonight’s group conversation and what Brother Festa’s message here have a common thread. Both encouraged an acknowledgment that through faith all things are possible, and that the challenges we face today are all part of a much larger plan. Likewise, the minor frustrations that dominate our consciousness are truly insignificant in the larger picture. That can all be wrapped up with the notion that each of us should be grateful for all of life’s blessings.

In typical “frat boy” fashion, the post title comes from Daniel Lanois “The Maker,” as performed by Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds on their “Live at Radio City Music Hall” album.

My wife and I have attended Sunday morning services at two Unitarian Universalist churches in Nashville, seeking to open our minds through their all-inclusive view of the world’s religions as equal. In fact, they held that having no religion at all was just as sacred as professing faith in a particular god.

Most recently, we have attended a small Disciples of Christ church in East Nashville. For me personally, the experience has been more in line with what I am familiar with from childhood. While I am yet to hear Just As I Am piped through the building, I can still find what I am seeking within its congregation.

Why organized religion matters

Attending a church fulfills a need for community. There are certainly many other ways to find community in the world around you, but church is the one that society has specifically set aside a time and a place for each of us to partake. We each need that sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves.

I believe that each person must seek inner peace. This theme is central to the Christian faith. When you take away all of the scaffolding of sects, denominations, ritual and historical context, the majority of the world’s religions convey a message of hope, peace and love. Organized religion serves as a means to communicate that message to the masses. Society as a whole can only prosper when it remains true to that central theme.

Politics from the pulpit

I was shielded away from most of what some find difficult about church: the politics, the quickness to judge, the philosophical differences. I do remember many a spirited debate over other denominations and the imperfect vessels that tried to lead the discussion. When you vary from the central theme of Christianity, trouble always follows.

I hear on the news, by word of mouth and even a bit through my own encounters that some ministers, pastors and priests have trouble staying on topic. If not the religious leaders, influential people within the congregation can and have lost sight of the central theme of hope, peace and love. We debate “moral” issues rather than caring for the sick and the poor. I am reminded that politics played a pivotal role in the life of Christ too (around 36 AD), and that should serve as a warning.

Persecution complex

As I mentioned earlier, I identify myself as a Christian. Prying my personal testimony from me is reserved for a very select few, but I believe that it is ultimately my purpose in life to lead a fulfilling life that follows in line with the teachings of Christ.

I struggle with the idea that the Christian faith, particularly in the southern United States, is under siege. When a corporation extends a benefits to same-sex partners, your mortal soul is not in any danger. We have not descended into Sodom and Gomorrah because a woman has a choice. When a local county fair starts offering a Faith Day discount to atheists, it does not mean your faith is being undermined. Holding to that central theme of hope, love and peace renders and of these perceived threats trivial.

Just as I am

In all the years that I have shared my thoughts on religion and faith, I have never met another person that would angrily reject them as heretical or un-Christian. I have certainly had several cordial differences of opinion with quite a few, but in the end we realize that we are both seeking ways to strengthen our faith, not dismantle one another’s.

I also willingly admit that my views can change with the seasons and from life’s experiences. I take comfort in knowing that we are each important in the larger context, and as long as we hold strong to a few core concepts, religion will never divide us.