No Sleep til.

I quoted that earlier to Laura, which was a dumb move since she can't even cite any Britney Spears songs. Here I am staying in Brooklyn, in the abode of Marvin & Erin (and Tom). I'm in this limbo still -- living here but not quite living here. I work five days a week then go back to a couch and suitcase. I buy groceries then buzz to be let in the building. There a certain level of immigrative qualities to my lifestyle, and that includes the actual immigrants that comprise a great deal of the staff at work, and a big enough pool of the regular ole cityfolk too. Anyway I'm enjoying it here. Lost has become an addiction and is now doing for me even more than what F'book & Youtube used to do to me. Not that they're all that gone, but I had more control and was working on a discipline until this show waltzed into my life. It didn't actually waltz at all -- and I should know, I just took 2 hours of waltz earlier today. I learned basic rhumba steps too, and met some great people. So yeah, I struggle to gain focus. I actually managed to stop halfway through an episode to make sure I get to sleep on time. Yes, worship is a priority, and I need to treat it like one. Sunday morning I will not be rushing and half-attentive like I have been these past two weeks. I will regain focus. I will regain focus. Which reminds me, I have work to do.

Singing 'n' the Rain.

"Excuse me, is it 6:00 pm yet?"

For her, it's been over a dreadful half-hour cooped up in the open air, remaining stuck under the entrance canopy of the theater lest she drench in the pouring rain of New York City. For me, it's been not more than 4 minutes so still refreshing. For her and her sister, it's been somewhat of an intimidating experience, being so far from their home city and country back in Vancouver, Canada. For me, it's just fun standing where the lights and people are as opposed to peering at them from the apartment window -- I guess mostly because it's optional. Heck I don't really even care that much about going to the show. I'm not all that thrilled about a show featuring old music about the 1960's, but it's an acclaimed Tony award-winning Broadway show's Tony award-winning Broadway revival, and I came here to be educated doggone it. So I'll give the lottery program a shot, no harm in standing outside the theater two-hours before the show and entering a drawing for the chance to buy one of the remaining tickets at a dramatically (hah) discounted price. And certainly no harm in doing all of that work even if only to not get picked; at least not for someone who's living just a couple feet down the block. These two older ladies certainly have more to lose, whose story begs a certain amount of sympathy, visiting the city under such gloomy conditions and all.

"You know what -- Diane, right? -- you know what Diane, in the rare chance my name gets drawn and both of yours doesn't, you can have the tickets. Honestly, it's means very little to me."

She gladly consents to my offer just as the distributor is about draw the names -- oh wow it's only been three minutes. But honestly, it really only takes a couple moments to build a warm connection here in the city, which is all the more wonderful amongst the chilly downpour. I really hope I do get this opportunity to serve these ladies. Not just for the satisfaction it brings, but because even the part of me that actually does want to see the show...well, kind of doesn't feel like it tonight. I've already seen two shows this week, one of them being another Broadway hit (awesome), the other being a refreshingly Filipino musical about Imelda Marcos produced by The Pan-Asian Repertory. I guess I don't know if I'm up for a third one so soon. haha...third one.

God helps me to another spoonful of that irony He likes serving me so much. Turns out my name doesn't get picked, but Diane's does, already after her sister's won tickets for the two of them. In reciprocation and disposal, she offers me the very last ticket to get drawn, which I graciously accept...immediately after my return from a brisk cautious run to the drug store ATM two blocks down.

Dizon, Kristine.

"For me, I definitely turned away. I refused to acknowledge his presence in my life. I searched for love, contentment, and happiness in places that all came up void."

Read the frank confession of a maturing high school junior with no more a gift for writing than an open heart and a story to tell.

View from the Pew.

"THE PLACE WHERE PEOPLE MEET TO SEEK THE HIGHEST IS HOLY GROUND"

Hard to understand, isn't it? I was befuddled by this phrase at first glance, sitting in the third row and seeing it written across the back wall behind the stage. What does this mean?

This is my third time now at Redeemer. I think the reason they say third time's the charm is because it usually takes two times to test the waters. The first time you're too cautious, the second time too comfortable. By the third time you've learned to find the middle ground. Two weeks ago I was 15 minutes early, last week I was 15 minutes late. By now I've not only figured out which trains to take on the subway, but also what the dress code is like, the necessary supplies to take, and I've even determined the acoustically primo spot for immaculate reception -- okay, maybe not, but sitting closer means a better view of Tim Keller's adorable hand gestures.

Redeemer seems to be good at filtering a person's idea of church. I found myself initially puzzled by the strong commitment to tradition. I mean...man...the hymns they sang even sounded dusty. Perhaps it's just apropos to keep in theme with the creaking rafters. Or maybe it's because sometimes there's a lot of sense in the old-fashioned stuff. The only thing more annoying than old people who follow tradition for the sake of following tradition, are young people who break tradition for the sake of breaking tradition. Either way you never understand what the practice is about.

Thankfully Redeemer takes time to put the mind back in the motion. With the sit down, get up, say this, and do that, they provoke, encourage, and challenge you to reflect your purpose for being here. That's something I think every congregation can afford to do more of. My eyes draw to that wall once again. See, it's not holy unless the people are there to seek the highest. That is, the Highest.

The service has been meaty so far, and Tim Keller does nothing short of follow through with his message. He's a gifted preacher; he speaks from the Bible in a way that's comprehensible and relevant, and flows with clear direction. He's articulate, sharp, clever, current, inviting, easy to listen to, and has such a kind face -- but it's about so much more than that. You see, I searched for this church immediately upon arriving in New York. Back home I had already been familiar with Keller's books and podcasts, and couldn't wait to see him speak in person. He's entertaining alright, but the man does one thing more remarkably than anything else, and that's make the message about the Bible, and about Christ. And if you think that's a no-brainer, try saying that about Joel Osteen.

The place where people meet to seek the highest is holy ground.

I think I finally figured out what this means. It's the definition of the church. You see, too often people walk into wedding ceremonies and funeral services and find the stained glass windows to be either intimidating or inspiring, but both because they think that's where the holiness lies. They see cobblestone and candles and figure somewhere in it lies religious spirituality. So when people walk into Redeemer, of all possible decorations to place at the point of their focus, they decide to put an explanation: a church isn't a building; a church is a people. It isn't gold mountings, it isn't elaborate paintings of little cherubs holding stars and flying ribbon -- that's not where to find holiness. You find holiness where you find people meeting to worship God.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.”

- Matthew 18:20

NYNJ Vlog #4: Special Edition

Happy Berts RJ!