MySpace to find MyFriend Tim

A few months back, I was “Googling” to unearth a friend from college. I discovered he had a MySpace page, but couldn’t tell him I was alive unless I agreed to be assimilated into the MySpace collective. A rebel at heart, I shelved the idea until later.

Later came in April, when Molly and I went to Portland to see a dear sister Molly drew closer to Christ 12 years ago get married. Molls was the matron of honor (sounds old & wrinkled, doesn’t it?), Carol the beaming bride. The weekend was a whirlwind of conversations and quality time with even higher quality friends. Morning ‘til noon, evening ‘til wee hours, I enjoyed the privilege of listening to my friends’ journeys, and hopefully encouraging each. Probably exhorted some too (can I help it?). So many conversations I started going hoarse. I flew home exhausted, spent, and fulfilled. During that weekend my bro Drew helped me set up a MySpace page.

It lay dormant for almost two months—white blah w/splashes of orange, declaring that I exist, and some guy named “Tom” is my only friend. That was until last weekend. I typed a few lines (understatement of course) explaining who I am, who I’d like to meet, what tunes I like etc. (such information is the currency of MySpace existence, apparently). Even fought through some HTML to escape the white and orange.

All this, to contact my friend Tim.

Tim is a bit larger than life. His constant quips and unmistakable laugh in the dorm dining hall made me dislike him instantly. That’s because I was a cocky, self-absorbed overachieving idiot who paused only to eat in those days. I would’ve been happy if dinner was silent, but every meal Tim loitered among a gaggle of guys and gals all giggling at his jokes.

I distinctly remember my girlfriend at the time (Corrine) telling me that I’d love Tim, if only I got to know him. Then a mutual friend (Propst) bridged the gap. I found myself walking by Tim’s dorm room one night and he welcomed me in, offering a drink, nachos, and conversation about movies, sports, and (beloved most of all) music. I was hooked. Tim and I hung out almost all hours (to the detriment of our GPAs) for two years thererafter.

My favorite memories of Tim are varied and vivid. Playing flag football & softball against the Delta Chi Omegajerks (of various names) … and winning, much to their chagrin. After all, our team was perennially named “100% Fratfree,” like some sort of nonconformist yogurt. With Tim I discovered the Seattle sound scene as it emerged before our very ears. Unknown bands called Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam came out of nowhere to our CD players, then later to America. Through them we heard poets who understood that life isn’t a never-ending party (See the film Rockstar, with Mark Wahlburg & you’ll get a glimpse of the shift). Far too many late night Sega sessions with Queso and coffee (we and our following of friends were addicted to EA Sports … among other things). Halucinagenically witnessing Val Kilmer become Jim Morrison in the first showing of The Doors, driving home in slow motion, then later finding my friend in darkness and helping some light to shine. Writing countless screenplays and movies in our minds, to the point of taking photos for storyboards the world has yet to see, but we’ve already directed. Serving on student council together, buying the first dorm-owned big screen TV at the Oregon State University (the death of Propst’s academic life, I think. I don’t recall him leaving the lounge for a year and a half, except to meet the Dominos delivery guy).

Time with Tim was a blast. Lots of laughing, often ‘til tears. Dreaming outside our destinies. Reading his many articles in the school paper. Leaving behind reality. Coming back to it. Graduating. Fantasy football. Friendship. Fun.

Then, he left. Graduation—the design of college and death knell of college relationships.

Tim returned to Tacoma to get a job, while I finished my last year at OSU. My last semester there, I came to faith in Christ. Tim already knew him. I had no idea. The next two years I was a mess of confusion, regeneration, and legalism. I got married. The last time I saw Tim was at my wedding, in 1997. He should’ve been my best man, but my head was in a weird place—dictated by the paradigm of a personality-cult pastor. Before I knew it, I was in Dallas helping plant a church and attending grad school. I lost Tim’s number. Didn’t know his email. I blinked, had two kids, and it was 2008. I haven’t seen him for ten years.

That will all change in four weeks. Molls and I are again flying to the Pacific NW—this time for a family reunion … on her side. Half of them will be Mormon and the other half pagan. I’m eager to see the show, personally.

But even more so, I’m excited to see Tim. My long lost friend. My kindred spirit in all things art. And my brother in Christ.

For that reunion, I can’t wait.

PS. Cory's MySpace page is: http://profile.myspace.com/corykuhn.

Multi-site church—the way of the future? Hope not.

In our recent pilgrimage of seeing what passes for church in America, Molly and I visited Cross Timbers Church this past week (the Keller Campus). It was very weird for me. Worship was live (and God-honoring), but come time for the sermon, a screen came down and the pastor was projected on it. He preached on sex. It wasn't that great (ouch).

They're quick in assimilation, though. Barely 24 hours after we visited, a girl from Cross Timbers called my cell phone, asking if we enjoyed our visit and if I had any questions. I just had one issue I'm still trying to process through; so I inquired.

Cory: Why isn't a live person preaching? You had a live worship pastor. Why not a teaching pastor?

Carla: Pastor Toby is so gifted that this lets everyone hear him without having to drive to Argyle [their main campus].

Cory: According to the bulletin, the satelite campus we were at takes in over $130,000 per week. I assume you have more than a few pastors on staff, right?

Carla: Oh yes. They're great men of god. They're very down to earth. You'd like them.

Cory: Why doesn't one of them preach? I assume the lead pastor has discipled some of these guys. If he can trust a bunch of different worship pastors (at various campuses), why aren't there a few guys he can trust to teach?

Carla: I'm not qualified to answer that. Can I have someone else call you?

Multi-site church is kind of like franchising a pastor/church via video feed. It enables one charsimatic leader to expand his influence (almost without limit). It enables his church to spread quickly, like a new product brand. If a local church has the cash to set it up, it enables limitless satellite campuses to exist under the authority of a single mother ship, even worldwide (a friend of mine in Portland is in one that projects their pastor to a campus in New Zealand, among others). Oh yeah ... it apprently brings in $$$.

I discovered this 1-minute video on the Cross Timbers web site (Matt Chandler's on it too) not just endorsing this new "multi-site" church movement, but presenting Slough and Chandler as new spokesmen/gurus for it. Apparently, it's the way of the future. The two (along with multi-site another pastor from Cali) will host a conference this May where, for a mere $300 per shepherd, they'll teach you how to bless people with video of yourself preaching in satelites from sea to shining sea (Coast 2 Coast).

Maybe I'm behind the times. I see nothing wrong with sermons at the click of a mouse. I'm all for using technology to increase excellence in worship. I just don't see a lot of good coming from this (at the very least, it's encouraging and enabling personality cults).

Something about it just seems wrong ... (I'd love you guys to edify me on this biblically). At our campus, there was virtually no oversight during communion. When the pastor told people to raise their hands if they ever experienced a certain trial, no one did. They knew their pastor was preaching to them live, but they also seemed to know, it really didn't matter what they did, b/c he couldn't hear or see them.

Our experience rated slightly above sitting at home and watching "church" on TV. People could've been having a food fight with the communion elements and the virtual pastor would've just kept on preaching like all was wonderful.

It felt like seeing sheep without a shepherd. The experience is haunting me.

As an aside, Cross Timbers was the third church we've visited inside two months where the children's church experience = a romper room filled with video games, toys, and a couple of adults overseeing the mayhem (contradictory statement, I know). Both Hannah and Judah (who are not dim) strained to tell me a single thing they learned after an hour in their care (other than how to play Wii, that is).

Last month, my nine-year-old son memorized Ephesians 6 ... no thanks to the church.

Hopefully the adults fare better.

What's the bloggin' point?

I’m not sure what the point of blogging is anymore (maybe I never did).

Is it to vent? Man, I wish. There is so much crap going on (especially in the name of Jesus), I’d love to be like Paul and name some names. Instead, God has restrained and I have refrained.

Most of my blogs were efforts to spark thought and growth. I don’t mean to preach (my friends would say I can't control myself). I'm simply processing my own wrestling matches with God. Do these ramblings really help anyone else? Doubt it. There are many wiser communicators out there. My blogs are too infrequent to check regularly anyway. I wouldn't.

My inconsistency isn’t from a lack of things to say. Actually, there’s too much flying around in my mind to process even in conversation with friends. The whirlwind of issues and sought answers is overwhelming.

Maybe the point in blogging is just to connect. An open diary of sorts. I enjoy reading my friends' thoughts, seeing pictures of their fam ... it helps me pray for them better.

But if connection is the point, blogging has little payoff. It's typing with only faint hope of someone sharing in return. Almost like talking to yourself.

Then again, I write for a living and don’t complain about a lack of feedback. Daily, I dutifully pen exegesis and exhortations even though each case of books shipped out results in silence. Getting a paycheck must be a fueling factor (duh).

Apparently I should just accept reality (that's very hard for idealists like me). A blog won't change the world (maybe not one person's mind). It's a far cry from life-on-life friendship (for which there is no substitute and few comparable joys on this earth).

Blogs are a snippet of acquaintance—quick peeks at what’s cooking in the kitchen of someone you know. They also allow bloggers to spill something and see if anyone cares enough to notice. Like informal, semi-safe (but public) group therapy.

I guess we all need that from time to time. But I’d rather have conversation. I could live to be a million and still wake up eager to talk with my friends.

But since everyone's so busy these days ... so little time to hang out, write, text, call, email, etc., I suppose we should keep blogging away.

If so, maybe I will start calling out injustice and naming names. Now that would be theraputic!

Unfortunately, I can't. If I began exposing hypocrites, my name would soon appear on the list. My offenses would indeed be overwhelming writing material.

Guess it's a good thing I don’t blog very often.