Two New Tattoo Ideas

So I've been thinking about tattoos.

I've got two ideas. One is an homage to a hero of mine: St. Francis of Assisi...

I like the black and white, but Alyssa and I messed around with the image in Illustrator and came up with this (the colors will probably be a bit darker and richer by the time we're done with it):

And the other is kind of a spinoff of a tattoo I saw at Cornerstone this year. At one of the seminars we went to, a girl a few seats down from us had a large tattoo of an Orthodox Icon illustration of the disciples casting their nets into the Sea of Galilee. The image was simple—all black, except for a series of thin, bright red halos around the subjects—but had a profound depth to it that I couldn't quite put my finger on. After a few hours of research, I found an image that I would love to convert into a shoulder tattoo, but can't find a copy large enough to base an illustration off of it.

It's called "Lord, Save Me," and depicts Jesus, walking on the Sea, stooping to aid a sinking Peter. There are numerous artistic versions of this Biblical moment, but none captures—for me, at least—the humility and grace and care with which Christ pulls Peter from the waves. In most versions, Jesus just looks like an all-powerful jerk who—in his divine mercy, of course—deigns to rescue a "mere mortal" from certain death.

The Jesus in the image above is the Jesus I am attracted to from the deepest part of my soul. The Jesus whom I can imagine catching Peter with a friendly chastisement. Who doesn't see Peter's weakness as evidence of his inferiority, but takes Peter in his arms with grace and humility and love, turning the situation into (dare I say it?) a teachable moment.

Let me know your thoughts.

Peace,

Joshua

Banana Peel Cake, or How to Make Something Out of Trash

Here for your culinary pleasure is a recipe—two recipes, in fact. The first is a simple banana nut bread recipe. The second is something I picked up from some folks at Conspire! Magazine—a how-to for a delicious banana peel cake.

I'm crazy about repurposing things that would normally be thrown away. The lowly banana peel certainly seems like a poor choice for a sweet delicacy, but I assure you: this is one of the most mouth-watering cakes I've ever made.

Here's everything that you will need for both recipes.

We start with the banana bread recipe. For this recipe (which makes two loaves), you will need:

• 3/4 cup fat-free sour cream
• 4 egg whites
• 1/4 cup chopped walnuts (you can leave them out if you don't like them)
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 2 tablespoons reduced-fat margarine
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 4 cups unbleached flour (I use King Arthur brand—it's one of the least processed and most socially responsible brands on the market, according to recent research)
• 6 very ripe bananas (Alyssa and I don't eat bananas very often, so the ones we bought we simply froze until we needed them—hence the discoloration and sliminess in the photos. Be sure they are completely thawed by the time you are ready to bake)

Preheat the oven to 375°. If you don't have non-stick bread pans, lightly grease your pans with margarine.

If the bananas you are working with have been frozen, slice off the fibrous ends (i.e. the stems) and throw them away (or compost them, if you'd like!). Gently squeeze the bananas out of their peels. They should slide right out. If you're working with fresh (overripe), just peel them like you normally would. Place the peels in a bowl and set aside—we'll need them later.

In another bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and sugars with a fork.

In a mixing bowl, mix the fat-free sour cream, egg whites, vanilla, margarine, and bananas at medium speed until smooth and creamy.

Gradually add the flour mixture into the mix, and stir with a spoon until thoroughly combined. Add more flour if necessary until a thick and resistant dough is formed. Fold in the walnuts, and mix for 1 minute on the mixers lowest speed.

Divide the dough evenly between the two loaf pans, and bake until golden brown—for us, it was about 25-30 minutes. Just keep an eye on it.

In the meantime, here's what you'll need for the banana peel cake:

• Those six banana peels that you set aside
• 4 egg yolks
• 4 egg whites beaten into firm peaks
• 2 1/2 cups white sugar
• 3 cups unbleached flour
• 5 tablespoons margarine or butter
• 2 tablespoons baking powder
• 1 1/2 cans of cream cheese icing, combined with cinnamon to taste

In a blender or food processor, chop the peels with 1/2 cup of water. They should quickly turn to a dark brown, aromatic mush. Set aside.

Combine the margarine, yokes, and sugar in a mixing bowl until homogenous—it should have the consistency of fluffy scrambled eggs.

Add the banana peels, the flour, and the baking powder, and mix well.

Whisk the egg whites until frothy, and gently fold into the mixture, careful to preserve the air.

Pour into a cake pan. We wanted to make a layer cake, so we used two small, round pans. Bake at the same temperature you've baked the banana bread (375) for about 30 minutes, or until the cake passes the toothpick test.

Remove from oven and let cool for 2-3 hours. Remove the cake layers from their pans, and gently slice off the top of one, leaving it level. This will be your bottom layer. Place a layer of icing on top of the bottom layer, and then carefully place the other layer on the icing. Proceed to ice the rest of the cake.

And there you have it! Two delicious treats. Now, I realize that this is a lot of baked goods for just one person (or even two people!). But the brilliance of making these sweets is that they are meant for sharing—we kept one loaf of banana bread for ourselves, and gave one to my parents, and we gave the cake to my sister for her birthday! So give and share these recipes (and the fruits thereof) with one another. I altered them for my own purposes, but you can find the original recipes here and here. Enjoy!

Grace and peace be with you,

Joshua

A Couple Thoughts From Camp

The last few weeks have been insane. After the wedding on May 29, and the honeymoon--which lasted until Wednesday or Thursday the next week--I went to work for two weeks. Then Alyssa and I went to the CBF national convention in Charlotte, North Carolina, where we spent a day at the Hyaets Community. After a week in the city, we returned home, unpacked, did laundry, packed again, and headed up to Bushnell, IL with our friends Nathan and Laura to spend the week camping out at the annual Cornerstone Festival. After an entire week of music and seminars by really interesting people, we came back, unpacked, did laundry, and I packed again to leave the next day for a week of summer camp counseling. I have since returned home from a great week at camp, and will be packing up again to leave tomorrow for my final week.

I've also grown a mustache. Holla.

Anyway, I thought I would share a couple thoughts/things that happened to me while I counseled last week at Adventure Camp, a retreat whose purpose is to basically keep 11-14 year-old kids busy from Monday to Friday.

1) I guess I never really thought about this before, although it is pretty obvious, but I have noticed that my relationships with women have changed since I married Alyssa. Not that I am pursuing other women or anything, but I've taken note that there seems to now be an emotional barrier which cannot be crossed in my friendships with people of the opposite sex. This is puzzling to me, because I usually attempt to truly and deeply know my friends. Alyssa will always remain my most intimate partner, my best friend, and my closest confidante, but this week I began to notice that I now have the label of "married guy," which at times left me alienated and distanced from not only the other counselors but the campers, as well.

2) I met a moderately autistic child this week. His name is Austin, and he is a child of God. Austin was at camp last year, too (although I wasn't able to be there--I was in Perry County), and, from what I've heard, was very closed-off. He vomited when he got too nervous, he never went more than knee-deep into the swimming lake, and he spent a large amount of time quietly sitting on his bunk. This week, however (largely because of the efforts of my new friend Don, who is one of the most talented counselors I have ever known), I saw Austin open up and really have some fun. He ran and played games with the other kids, dunked me in the lake, and even made it past the dock to the Blob (the camp's water trampoline), where he spent 10 or 15 minutes jumping on the trampoline and being launched into the lake from the Blob's balloon-like appendages. And he never once got nervous enough to vomit.

In a camp comprised primarily of white, middle class kids who have difficulty leaving their video games and cell phones behind for a day and complain about their single mosquito bites and how their parents won't buy them new computers, Austin is a miracle of God.

3) Our final night of camp, the campfire talk was given by Steve Lewandowski, the site director for Blue Mountain. Steve is a big, burly, sporty guy that I've known for almost 8 or 9 years now. He's the kind of guy you think is probably involved in pro sports. He's rough, rugged, a hunter and fisherman. His abrasive, up-front personality has earned him both praise and disgust from a lot of counselors from a lot of different camps. He is almost the antithesis of me. I respect the hell out of him.

This week, the theme at camp was "Heroes," and how they don't always have to be well-known and grandiose people. Anyone can be a hero. Really. Look at the story of the poor widow's offering (which was actually included in our curriculum for the week). Steve spoke about using our God-given gifts to bring light into a dark world. Pretty simple metaphor. But powerful.

It rained us out of our actual campfire, so we crammed 30 kids and 8 adults into the small multipurpose building, where we sat on the concrete floor in the dark and listened to Steve tell us his life story--about growing up in church without really knowing was God wanted for his life, and spending years and years working every thinkable job, from a counselor in a mental hospital to a wildlife caretaker, without understanding how to use his gifts. He finally came to the understanding that his entire life had been one big experiment in preparation for God's true calling for his life--to be a site director at a church camp facility.

Near the end of his talk, Steve pulled out a single candle and lit it. It provided just enough light in the room to cast a dim orange glow over his face. "I'm using my gift," he said. "And it's bringing a little light into the darkness. But can you imagine if you all used your gifts, too?" He called the kids to line up, and one by one, reveal to him their God-given gifts. He then lit a candles and placed them in each camper's hand. As each child approached Steve at the front of the room, I heard them mumble: "I'm good at drawing." "I'm a builder. When I'm outside, I want to build things." "I love to be around animals."

Then the counselors got in line. I stayed in a corner in the back of the room, thinking frantically. I couldn't think of one useful thing that I had been gifted or good at. A thousand half-hobbies. Even music, which I was at camp to lead, is not my passion. Sure, I like to play the guitar. But a God-given gift? I'm not that serious about it.

When all the counselors had gotten candles, Steve spotted me in the corner, and I knew that he was about to approach me. He took a few giant strides across the room, got a few inches from my face, and placed an unlit candle in my hand.

"What's your gift?" he asked me.

"I'll let you know when I think of it," I told him.

He raised an eyebrow and stared through me, and took a deep breath.

"Desire," he whispered, and lit my candle. Years' worth of crying out to God flooded my head.

I have never, and likely will never have anybody sum up my burning for Jesus the way Steve did. Desire is my gift. Maybe I will eventually learn how to use it.

The room was now brightly lit. When everyone is using their gifts for God's purposes, Steve said, we give light to others. No one has to walk in darkness. He then asked everyone to blow out their candles, and then approached the counselors in the back of the room, lighting their candles once again. "When your counselors came to camp, they had their candles lit. They were using their gifts to help you. To inspire you." He then moved to where Austin was sitting, cross-legged and slack-jawed on the concrete floor.

"And I think we can all say we have gained much inspiration from this...gift of God." He lit Austin's candle, and one by one the campers began to light their own candles from Austin's. The entire room filled with light once more.

I've counseled two different camps for about five years now. I was a youth pastor for two years. I grew up in a youth group. I have never seen anything like what I experienced this week as a counselor.

Peace be with you all, and I will return to my regular (short!) postings next week.

Love,

Joshua

A Quick Update

So...I've been out of town for a couple weeks, and haven't had time to post much. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you are), I'll be leaving tomorrow for another two weeks away counseling youth summer camps.

Alyssa and I just returned home from a week at Cornerstone, where I got to perform one of my poems for a songwriting seminar. I was approached later by a couple really nice folks who asked if I had a blog, and, with guilt, I told them about my poor, neglected Everyday Revolutionary site. I figured I should probably post something recent to make their visit worthwhile. :)

Some of you may have noticed that the site doesn't quite have the flair that it once did--namely, the background has changed. I was messing around with HTML, and couldn't get the original background image that I had edited to fit the layout again.

However, there is good news! I am currently working on my own personal website, with my own domain and everything. Here's a preview of the homepage:

See you soon! I'll return to pick up my Top 5 Jesus series in a couple weeks when I get back from camp.

Grace and peace,

Joshua

Jesus in Pop Culture #5: The Da Vinci Code

Thanks for joining me on my series of my top 5 most influential Jesus depictions in pop culture. I'll try to make around a post a week. Feel free to leave your thoughts or experiences with any of the posts as we count down to #1.

This week: The Da Vinci Code.

No, not the cheesy movie in which Tom Hanks sports a really nasty hairdo and Gandalf plays the bad guy.

But the actual book, by Dan Brown. The New York Times best-selling novel which sold millions of copies and shook the faith of millions more. I was one of them.

Several years ago, I was at the end of a tour of Europe with my family, and we made one last stop for food and souvenirs at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris before our flight home. I was around 17 years old.

Perusing the books at the kiosks in the wide open glassy airport brimming with light, I found a small stand of books, on which was perched a drab copy of The Da Vinci Code, complete with a partial portrait of Mona Lisa peeking from behind a matrix of obscure hieroglyphic symbols.
I devoured the book on the eight-hour flight home, and was immediately troubled.

The Da Vinci Code has a way of blurring the lines between truth and fiction. Sure, books like the Gospel of Judas and the mysterious Gospel of Mary exist, but their interpretation is confusing at best--many of the "claims" made in the novel are in fact fanciful conclusions drawn from scant historical evidence. But controversy sells--especially in an America that devours any and all shock out of sheer boredom--and it sucked me right in.

Not long after finishing the book, I began my quest to "prove The Da Vinci Code wrong." I pored over Christian self-help books that blasted the novel, and found that in most cases the authors hadn't even read the book, or if they had, they misquoted it or got their facts wrong. One book I read even reported the author of the novel as Dave Brown, leaving me to wonder about the competence of his editors. It was a war of Christian pop culture, and The Da Vinci Code was kicking CPC's butt. This--to me--represents a huge problem in contemporary Christian culture: an unwillingness to get our hands dirty. Truth doesn't always lie around on the surface--sometimes it takes a lot of digging to find a tiny nugget.

My senior year of high school, I bought another book by biblical scholar Bart D. Ehrman, whom--I learned later--is renowned for his cynicism and harsh criticism of Christianity. The book was Truth and Fiction in the Da Vinci Code, a veritable comprehensive summation of the history of the early church, and it introduced me to the world of biblical scholarship.

While Ehrman is by no means an apologist for the Christian faith (originally raised as a charismatic Pentecostal, he has since become a self-described agnostic), in Truth and Fiction the author condenses hundreds of years of complicated church history into laymen's terms, and backs up his views with ample sources. After several years of research launched by the reading of this book, I've since come to marvel at people who still cling to the claim that a historical Jesus of Nazareth never existed.

Ehrman's book intrigued me so much that I immediately enrolled in a New Testament Lit course my first semester of college. The class was taught by a short, white-haired Episcopal Bible scholar who--somewhat ironically--had the exact same condition as the disabled Leigh Teabing (spoiler alert--the villain) in Brown's novel, for which reason the professor could hardly stand the mention of the book. He hobbled into class on crutches some days, and on others drove right into the auditorium on a little battery-operated scooter before perching himself on a high stool and droning on about redaction criticism and sitz im leben for nearly three hours each week.

But the man was brilliant, and encouraged me (perhaps without knowing it) to pursue Biblical scholarship, which has ultimately led to my application and acceptance to Central Baptist Theological Seminary.

Not all roads follow the same path I've taken. Not everyone is cut out for seminary. But then again, I think many seminarians misunderstand their own "pursuit of Biblical knowledge." It becomes too much about knowing more and more and more, and less about getting closer and closer to God. My friend Matt from North Carolina once told me of his decision to enter seminary, "Joshua, seminary doesn't necessarily have to be a calling; Jesus tells us to 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' Seminary shouldn't be about personal accolades, but should be about loving God with your mind." I've never before nor since heard anyone better sum up my desire for a seminary education.

Over the course of five years, I have come to systematically disregard many of the claims presented in The Da Vinci Code. Looking back, I'm amazed that my first thought wasn't immediately, Come on, Joshua, it's FICTION. But reading The Da Vinci Code--and I'm not sure this is exaggeration--very likely altered the course of my life because it "got me to thinking," which eventually led to me thinking for myself. I would highly encourage my brothers and sisters in Christ to do the same. So here's to you, Da Vinci Code. Perhaps I would never have applied for seminary if not for your cheap-thrilly-goodness.

I still have my copy of the novel, swollen and wrinkled by moisture and time. It sits on my shelf as a reminder that any time you deal with humanity, stories will get twisted, and sometimes as Christians we are left with the obligation to dig a little deeper to find truth--whether it's in the Bible or a cheap paperback novel you find in a wide open glassy airport brimming with light.

Some Food for Thought

Whew!

It's all over. The marriage planning, the wedding, the photos, the reception, the honeymoon. It's done. I can finally breathe.

Alyssa and I have finally settled down to our new life together at the Baptist Student Center. I feel so...domestic.

Anyway, while we were in Philadelphia/New York on our honeymoon (I'll post some pictures later) we discovered we were staying only a block down the street from a Ten Thousand Villages store. We didn't even know they had physical locations--we were only familiar with their website. Inside, we found a revised and updated copy of the World Community More With Less cookbook.

Our last day in Philly, we sat down and planned out a couple weeks' worth of menus, deciding to quit eating out as often as we have been lately. Let's face it, eating out is fast, and often--in the short term--very cheap. But the long term effects of opting for restaurants over home-cooked meals can be damaging to personal health and finances as well as the environment, and contributes to the waste of tons of food each year in the U.S. There is great social truth in the old statement, "Eat your food, there are starving people in China."

I also work in a restaurant, and am constantly amazed at the it's-all-about-me attitude inherent in the average American who dines out. In my two years of experience in the food service industry, I have come to agree with Ben Folds's poignant view of the problematic attitude of the average American diner in his song, All U Can Eat.

So spend the night in with your friends and family tonight. Eat something that is hearty, healthy, and doesn't drain the environment. Be conscientious in your dining decisions.

I leave you with my altered version of an easy recipe for some yummy leek soup from the More With Less cookbook. Enjoy!

Fill a medium-sized pot 2/3 full with water and bring to boil with 4 chicken bouillon cubes (you could also use vegetable broth, if you prefer the soup to be vegetarian).

Chop and add to the water about 1.5 lbs. fresh leeks, including their green tops; about 1.5 lbs. potatoes (I used mainly red potatoes in this soup, but added an extra Russet that I had laying around); about 1.5 lbs. carrots; and 1 stalk celery.

Simmer for about an hour, or until the veggies are nice and soft. Add about two cups cold milk, and 1/3 cup butter or margarine, and stir until melted.

Next, stir in a spoonful of thyme, a spoonful of rosemary, a few spoonfuls of garlic powder, and a few sprigs of finely chopped fresh parsley.

Add some sea salt and black pepper to taste, and let simmer for another 30 minutes. Alyssa and I topped it off with some shredded cheese. Absolutely delicious. Enjoy! If you have any questions, or if you try it out and really like it, feel free to post a comment saying so.

Grace and peace,

Joshua

Probably the cleanest my kitchen has ever been.

Painting a kitchen in a two-room apartment may not seem like much to get excited over. But over the last fifteen hours of arranging and moving furniture, painting over grimed-up walls with bright colors, and bleaching floors with Alyssa, I think that I can safely say I have derived a significant amount of spiritual pleasure from the experience. I felt like we were not only "preparing our nest" as a married couple, but that we were also doing something nice for the BSC--we even replaced the blinds in the room, which were old and metal and rusted. Our hope is that the work we put into the apartment today will last long after we've moved to Kansas City.

Brother Lawrence took pride in his performance of the mundane. "We ought not to grow tired of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed," he said. There is something profoundly spiritual involved in a solid day of work, no matter how trivial the work itself may seem. Perhaps this is something I should meditate upon more often when I go in to work each day at the Olive Garden.

Anyway. I leave you with pictures of the just-finished kitchen. Comments are welcome!

This looks more exciting than it really is--it's only a tupperware cabinet.

Pampered Chef pizza stone!

This is probably the most organized this kitchen will ever get.

Alyssa loves her turquoise wall...

What in the world is that on the door?

Could it be the "I'm Sorry She Said No" Kitty Calendar from Jess Tankersley?! I think so...