:: in.a.mirror.dimly :: A theology and culture blog with the Bible in one tab and a news feed in the other.

UPDATE (11/12/2006)
The article will appear in the December 31st edition of the the ooze

About a year ago I scribbled some thoughts on a topic I called “Hindsight Theology.” I had a few other possible names for it, but backed away from them. No need to offend!

I revisited the topic recently and found that I had a lot more to write about it. I ended up submitting it to theooze.com and it was recently published.

My thanks to Tammy the culture editor at The Ooze.

I’ve been reflecting lately on what makes a good blog post. In particular I’m thinking about the structure of a post.

I grew up learning that a typical paragraph is 4-5 sentences in length, if not longer. In addition, sentence structure should be varied and words should be chosen carefully.

The world of blogs seems to change this a little. I find that I prefer reading posts that are broken up into paragraphs of 2-3 sentences. The width of the typical blog is at least half, if not a third, of a typical page.

Less immediately becomes more.

In checking up on my stats, I have found that most visits to this blog last less than a minute. So if I have something important to say, I need to break it into small pieces and put it out there. A long paragraph becomes burdensome to blog readers. They would probably say that I should have begun a new paragraph with the previous sentence. Ah, but I have kept going here just to make my point. If I had something fairly weighty to say, you would have a hard time persevering simply because of the way this is all stretched out down the blog. In fact, you may have even given up by now with my drivel.

I am still a firm believer in writing clear sentences with carefully chosen words and varying structures, but even with shorter blog posts, the craft of writing can suffer. Most blogs are simply first drafts.

A blog of first drafts is OK if you’re only trying to put information out there. If you want people to take it seriously, then my guess is you’ll want to polish it a little.

Us Cyzewski’s (that’s my last name by the way) tend to Polish things as well.

Sorry, that pun is with me every time I hear the word “polish.”

If you can help it, take the time to think about some of the following:

- Your point of view: Are you going to afflict readers with a preachy use of the second person “you” or are you going to be chatty and personal with “you.” Perhaps third person is better for certain topics. The first person can be useful as a narrative device.

- Word Choice: The careful choice of words can make all of the difference in a carefully crafted post. Needless repetition detracts from your main point. Needless repetition detracts from your main point.

- Read It Once: You can’t catch everything, but give your post a satisfying read upon completion. You’ll find errors, complete your incomplete thoughts (see previous point about word choice), and may even decide to scrap the post altogether. I think the courage to delete is essential for bloggers. We need not take ourselves so seriously.

- Keep Paragraphs Short: This may be completely wrong, but in my opinion 2-3 sentences should be the standard limit for blog post paragraphs. I find it incredibly hard to plow through large chunks of text online. Heck, most ministries like Billy or Franklin Graham keep the paragraphs of their mailings pencil thin, and that is no accident.

Keep in mind that newspapers often indent one sentence as a complete paragraph. The key is adjusting the flow of your content to the media.

- Out to Lunch: The most important thing to keep in mind is this: if you think I’m out to lunch; you’re probably right. The Vermont Turkey sandwich at the Lawyer and the Baker (in Manchester, VT) is my current favorite by the way.

People steal all of the time. They wouldn’t call it theft per se, but they really do steal.

I work at an Art Center (museum, galleries, and more). Part of my job involves the front desk and let me tell you, people swindle, cheat, and steal all of the time.

What brought this home was our new promotion. We are trying to switch to e-mail for all of our communication. Part of the process is soliciting for e-mails at the front desk with free post cards.

It’s really simple. Fill out a slip with your e-mail address and you can take one of the four beautiful post cards by a local Vermont photographer. One e-mail address nets one card. Two e-mail addresses net two cards. Simple, right?

But here’s the thing, after explaining this clearly to three women, one of them immediately filled out the e-mail slip and took a post card. The second swiped a card deftly and proceeded to hide it behind our free catalogue.

“If you could fill out this e-mail request slip, we’d appreciate it,” I asked.
“Oh, I live in California,” she replied, never looking at me with sunglasses to shade her guilt-ridden eyes.
“But if you fill out the e-mail request slip, then you’re free to take the post card. That’s the point of the promotion.”
Silence, evasion, and awkwardness.
She ended up putting the card back and walking away.

The third woman eagerly filled out the slip for her free post card.

And this happens all of the time. I explain the promotion and someone greedily takes two or three post cards. If I’m lucky, they may leave an e-mail address. Today one couple did not.

And here’s the thing, they just looked intent on evil. On disobeying the rules. I knew they wouldn’t care about filling out the slip.

Another guy was friendly as can be, smiled with glee at the news of the promotion, and then swiftly took two post cards in his fat grubby paws.

What gives?

Part of the problem is that we have removed the monetary value of the cards. Filling out an e-mail slip is a laughable barter. It’s almost free, so why not just take it. Dismiss the terms of the barter if it’s already stacked in your favor.

But I see this culture of theft elsewhere. People try to get in free to the arts center all of the time. As if their children are going to starve if they can’t save $8. Posh, I say. Posh.

It goes beyond finding a bargain. It’s deception. It’s trying to nab what isnt’ yours. It’s bending the rules and even by-passing them.

And let’s be realistic, I let people in for free a lot. Trust me, it’s the best way to get the word out about a great institution. But I am truly bothered when people try to pass as members when they haven’t payed their yearly dues. Others try to get in as members on account of being a United States citizen. Yes, it’s been tried.

This propensity toward theft is not limited to art centers. We steal music, software (is your copy of Windows Genuine???), and lesser commodities that do not carry a harsh penalty if there is one at all.

Yes, if you can get away with it, then it must be alright.

And what does this mean? It means that we as a nation have departed from absolute truths. We need to return to morality and rigid moral laws that will guide us to the path of righteousness. Yes, more truth is what we need. Bigger, better, badder, louder, more obnoxious truth that stares us in the face, pushes us around, backs us into the corner, knees us in the gut, and then clubs us on the head with its pure absolute moral guidelines and goodness. Oh yes, that is just what we need.

And if you just bought that, you’re even more hopeless than the thieving thieves who are currently committing theft right now.

It really means that we need to acknowledge our brokenness, turn away from our stubborn sin, and seek out God. Stop justifying ourselves. Stop comparing ourselves to the “real” criminals. Drop the entitlement game. Get real about our depravity.

Seek out someone who isn’t muddled in the same mess. Seek out someone who can actually bring change, redemption, and new life. Someone who can free us from our sham freedom that really is just selfishness on a rampage. We need real freedom, real life, and a real God.

And no one, not even ourselves, should be able to steal that.

The Wittenburg Door published a small satire article that I wrote for them in the latest issue.

Though you can’t view it online, you can at least verify my story by clicking here.

If you haven’t read The Wittenburg Door, the world’s pretty much only Christian Satire Magazine, it’s a good time.

Julie and I read through the current issue and found it to be a nice blend of commentary of current issues, interviews, and down-right hysterical pieces of satire. The current issue’s cover is thought-provoking to say the least.

Compassion is in short supply when life grows turbulent. The rocking and swaying of our own boat leaves us groping for control, grasping at the wheel, and struggling against the squall. We never stop long enough to realize that another boat may be dashed upon the rocks and in need of rescue. We have our own calamities to confront, it’s not in our own interest to think of that other ship. It must fend for itself, just as we are.

And so we become engrossed in our own problems, perhaps even cruelly dismissing the flashing distress signal accross the misty waves. Compassion is not convenient. It is a costly endeavor. It’s humbling because we must acknowledge that our own interests are not paramount. Not only does compassion beckon us to stop looking at ourselves and consider the plight of another, it demands that we care. And if we really care, then action is the only appropriate corollary.

He put the prayer book down knowing that nothing had changed. His heart was frozen solid. Pride still clutched to his breast and self reigned in his thoughts. Where is God? Could God still have a use for me? What next?

Emptiness. A chilling void.

Adoration, supplication, scripture, hymns: words. All words bouncing off his hardened frame. Utterances were just noise vibrating from his throat and flipping off his tongue without meaning. Any notion that rolled in his consciousness crackled with static and disappated without taking shape.

He groped and crawled about his earth-bound soul only to finger the ordinary human scemes that had always burrowed into his waking hours. All was stamped with his own design. If not originals, he had adapted the creations of others and appropriated them to his religious cache.

Cold letters, grammar, and texts bound his spirit, dooming him to the inhospitable earth. Could his spirit escape, find relief, and connect with someone “other?” Was God reaching out to him? Could God do anything?

Falling to his knees, a storm thundered from his darkened eyes. The droplets pounded the earth, sowing seeds of despair. As if squeezing his final remnant of faith in clenched fists, he pounded it into the ground, mingling tears with fleeting faith. His downcast eyes failed to catch the first gleam of the sun as it rose over his storm-swept soul. Though imperceptable, his faith began to grow.

I will soon have a short story published in an anthology put together by the Southshire Roundtable called The Southshire Pepperpot. It will be available soon from Windstorm Creative for pre-orders.

The anthology is “an eclectic mix of prose and poetry full of whimsy, humor, reflection, wonder, along with a mouth-watering collection of recipes sure to inspire the cook or baker in us all.” Though I’m no chef, I had a fun time sharing my first experience with Turkish coffee while studying in Jerusalem in a story called “A Bittersweet Land.” Included in the story is a recipe for Turkish coffee, something that I typically would prefer to leave to the professionals!

Dang it, today is the deadline for the Southshire writing group’s call for stories. I’m currently working on a short story about food and need to send it out today!!!

I chose Turkish Coffee as my topic. Here’s a snippet from the story that begins in the photo shop of my friend Reuben:
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He’s religious, but sensible.
How so?
He know where to draw the line.
Where is that?
Where sense stops and religion becomes damaging.
So religion is only safe when it’s sensible?
I didn’t say that. Religion isn’t safe at all. Religion is really just a bunch of non-sense, a stimulant for the brain. Like wine, a taste is delightful, but too many glasses can make one a blubbering fool. Religious people must cling to sensibility, lest they become of no use to society.
You have really thought this through. I assume that you would not consider yourself religious?
Well I lean toward the sensible side of the equation, but the occasional prayer is not beyond my sensibilities.
I see. Less religion, more sense so to speak.
Certainly. Religion perpetrates so much evil, intolerance, and confusion. There is no better guide than one’s own sense.
Quite, but what if a religious man says that it is only sensible to be religious? In fact, what if one does not have sense unless relion reigns supreme?

Technorati Tag: fiction
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After doing some dishes around 10 pm I sat at the table to jot a few thoughts down last night. Neal Morse (as always now) was playing in the background and I settled in. By 11:45 am I wasn’t quite done, but I was getting too drowsy. Here’s a chunk of what I wrote:

I watched my leg grow longer while it rested in Russ’ hand and thought to myself, “My God,this is real.”

Christianity had been a ritual for most of my life: sit, stand, kneel, pray this, chew on a paper-life wafer, vote pro-life, and don’t use God’s name in vain unless you’re justifiably pissed. The spirit would could not be further from my mind even as the priest waved his hands over the paper-wafers to transubstantiate them into the body of Christ. The wine that became his blood was bitter and polluted by the old guy with the hacking cough in front of me. My religious system was entrenched and simple to follow, I made life easy on God. He didn’t have to do a whole lot.

Thinking that everyone was either Jewish or Catholic for most of my elementary years, I assumed that my experience was the norm for the rest of Adam’s race. God kindly kept out of our way, we paid our dues on Saturday or Sunday, and things kept ticking right on schedule. Sure God was using the church to do his work, but he was too busy to actually intervene in my life or in the life of any one around me.

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Last night Julie and I attended our first ever writing group. We got together with a few people at the Northshire Bookstore in Manchester (VT, not UK), worked through some writing exercises, and then read and critiqued them. It was actually a great time. I highly recommend these kind of groups, provided that they support and help you and don’t cut you to pieces with criticism!! Our group was a lot of fun.

Unfortunately for you, I ended up writing some things that I wanted to post, so here’s one of my writing samples from last night. The exercise involved writing about something that needs to be documented since it may not be around some day.

Stacked in rows of lonely crates, the black disc s press together in a jumbled mass. The box edges were a blurry bunch, never revealing where one gegan and the other ended. Cold wet rocks frowned upon the stack of black discs, condemning them to warps, mold, and eventual disintegration.

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