jamie's wanderings

 One of the amazing things of growing up as an adult here in Spain, is the two points of view that I'm granted. I'm from one world, but since I was 26 years old, I have lived in another. I live with two Jamies, one that speaks Spanish a little accented one way and another depending on my feelings, sometimes all day long, and another one that speaks clipped Chicago English, especially after I've been on the phone with my brother. I have two points of view and sometimes they don't always live happily together. But one thing that remains steadfast, is that I believe. I believe in God, what we call the mystery that we can only view as a mound that is covered by by a large blanket. I believe He loves us so much, He sent His son to make things simple to us stupid people. But we are also created in His image and to love Him is to love those around us. The immigrant, for one. I've been one, and technically I still am a long term resident of a country I pay taxes and social ...

 The last two weeks have been like seeing a car accident every morning and not being able to look away. Andrew and I have a new house rule, no speaking of current political events until we both have coffee in our hands in the morning. We find ourselves reading, talking, disecting and wondering at what is going to happen next. Someone wrote on their wall on Facebook that they had interacted with AI about the teachings of Jesus and if they were compatible with Christian Nationalism. AI said no. I have always been deeply facinated with politics. My Juinor year of high school, we did video school (before online stuff existed) and my civics class was fascinating as we learned about how the US government worked. The teacher was passionate about the subject and we who watched it became intrigued as well. But the longer I live, and live away from the US, the less I understand. I told a client yesterday that it used to be a law that the Brits weren't permitted to vote after living 15 years ...

 Someone confessed to me last night, I used to be a youth pastor. I responded with, Me too. And we swapped a few details and didn't really need to say much, even though as I do, I probably said too much, because it wasn't needed and we saw each other. Something to the effect of, how could the church have so many empty rooms 99% of the time while the homeless underneath the very sign went without love and help? After the conversation I cried. Yet again. As Uncle Peter says, the plot sickens. I could go on and on about former classmates who went out guns ablazing into the mision field. And got kicked out, run out, burnt out. Or like I heard last week, yet another pastor friend of mine quit. Nothing immoral, nothing really wrong, but no one could agree and he said, this isn't the Gospel I was taught and preach, and left. So many of us have gone, left, faded into the wordwork, pivoted, changed, reinvented ourselves. Walked away. The current lingo is, deconstructed. Some merely ...