All posts by Kevin D. Hendricks

Vacation

The Weekend at Lena Creek

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For you Bethel people, here’s a sneak peak at tomorrow’s Table Tent article. For you non-Bethel people, here’s a sample of some Table Tent material:

So how was your weekend? Did you do any of that homework? Study for finals? Attack those end of the semester projects? I spent my weekend playing Trivial Pursuit in a field of dandelions, boiling creek water to wash the dishes, and waking up to a tick crawling up my leg. Six friends and I escaped to an unoccupied farm in Wisconsin. What does unoccupied mean? They tried turning on the water and it broke. Creek water for us. We decided to ignore the responsibility of homework, projects, and tests one last time before the true joy of finals set in. We ran barefoot in the green grass, tossed a Frisbee (some better than others), witnessed the dreaded Aerobe-eating trees at work, tromped through the marsh, and played a quick game of full contact croquet. Some of us scaled the heights of a tree, while others stuck wild flowers in their creek-washed braids. We laid on blankets soaking in the constellations and the dew, debating the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. What did I learn this weekend? I learned that the double-O in “007” means that James Bond has a license to kill. I learned that old gas stations make really keen coffee houses. I learned that the answer is 42. And I learned that sometimes homework can wait. Maybe Henry David Thoreau wasn’t crazy. Cold creek water washed the sleep from my eyes Sunday morning, and I couldn’t help but shout, “Good morning!” Sometimes life flashes by in a mix of faces, assignments, and TV shows and we forget to have fun. We miss the beauty for fear of soggy sneakers, grass stains, or-God forbid-looking stupid. We fly so fast we think the call to live life to the fullest is cheesy, and we move on-only moving, but never living. Life is more. Be slightly crazy and ‘suck the marrow from life,’ stand atop your desk, flail your arms and scream as you sail down a hill. You have a standing invitation to the birthplace of apathy, but no one will care if you don’t make the social appearance.

Introspection

The Heritage Hall Time Capsule

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“What do you call yourself? / What did you call me?

“Excuse me but you don’t know me / And I sure don’t know you neither

“Who are you and where did you go? / You think you know but you, just don’t know” (“The Downfall of Western Civilization” by MxPx).

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Today in chapel the administration shared with the student body the plans for the cornerstone of the new dorm that’s being built right now. They’re planning on sealing it up as a time capsule (I thought that was just a popular 80’s thing), and they took the time to show us what was being put in the time capsule. The “cornerstone committee” made the decisions, and I have to say they did a fairly decent job. Sealed in the new dorm’s cornerstone (which they admitted only serves a symbolic purpose, which makes me wonder what the point is) will be a Bible, a Bethel viewbook, a 1998-1999 Roster (with all those really bad ID pictures), a Beanie Baby (they figure when the capsule is opened they can sell it and pay for the next building project), a Caribou Coffee brochure, a scrap book, and an Abercrombie & Fitch tag. Now I understand that the committee is just taking an honest representation of the Bethel student body. You can’t blame them for being honest. But I think that’s just sad. Abercrombie & Fitch symbolizes Bethel students so well that it’s being included in a time capsule. How pathetic are we? How wrapped up in fashion and big names are we? I guess I can rejoice that I don’t own any Abercrombie & Fitch stuff myself. But we all have our classy name brands.

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I’m taking off for the weekend to a farm in Wisconsin, so unfortunately there won’t be a pondering tomorrow night. But never fear, I should be back on Sunday.

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“So now I just hope that the world is treating you fine / And I hope your memories are sweet as mine / Goodbye’s are hard” (“In My Dreams” by Ace Troubleshooter)

God, Church & Stuff

The Church Crumbles and Falls

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The church crumbles and falls. You stand there aghast. What do you do? Some walk away, leaving the crumbs to rot. Will you turn your back? Will you walk away? Where are the ones willing to roll up their sleeves? Who will muddy their hands and mend the hurt and pain? Or will we watch the crowd disperse and when no one’s looking slap some putty in the cracks and call it good? This can’t go on. I’m just a kid, what can I do? Sometimes I wonder who really knows what they’re doing. You wonder why the world looks on and laughs, well look around you. You won’t even mend the cracks. Where’s the unity? Where’s the body? We can’t move on without a foot, without an eye, without an ear. A heart is not enough. A mind is not enough. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The parking lot of the church is paved with apathy. The pain is deep and it’s not easy, but you can’t just throw your hands up in the air and leave us here to make it on our own. We need you. Stick your definitions in the trash and wipe that self assured look off your heart. You are not right. God is right. The narrow minded will be blown away when all is revealed. How dense can you be? How foolish are we? Jesus, light of the world, shine your love upon this broken vessel.

Music, Society

Inviting Marilyn Manson Over for Dinner

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Today at the beginning of chapel the campus pastors took a moment to share about some new prayer thing that was happening, and they shared a quick story about praying against the Marilyn Manson concert that was in town this week. Sherry made a slip of the tongue and said something about, “When Marilyn Manson comes to Bethel.” Everyone laughed and thought it was funny, and Sherry’s face turned red and she laughed for a minute before continuing.

But I wasn’t laughing. I obviously didn’t listen to much they were saying about the prayer meetings. I was thinking about Marilyn Manson. He’s taken a lot of flack lately. A lot of people have been picketing his shows because of whatever connection there may be between the “goth” followers of his music and the Columbine shootings. As rumor has it, at the Minneapolis show somebody put a big yellow smiley face somewhere on the stage, and when Manson saw it, he stopped the concert mid-song, and stormed off the stage. Sherry related this story as a victory story for the group that was praying for the presence of God to be in that concert hall.

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Daily Grind

Water Balloon Attack

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Okay, so there, I was, just coming back from a late night Perkins run, standing there for half a second saying goodbye to my girlfriend, and wham! A water balloon slams into my feet. Nobody’s around. Nobody’s screaming and laughing. Nothing. Just a random water balloon that rocketed out of nowhere and soaked my shoes. So we stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what’s going on. The moment we turn our backs–wham! Another one! Needless to say, when I returned to my townhouse, I ran.

“I climbed the door and shut the stairs / I said my shoes and took off my prayers / I brushed my clothes and took off my teeth / I pulled down my alarm and set my sheets / I shut off my bed and I climbed into my light / And all because she kissed me goodnight.” (Kiss Goodnight by Ace Troubleshooter)

(you all have Ben to thank for that. I wasn’t going to include it here, but he just pushed me too far. ;) )

Blogging, Writing

Write Even When You Don’t Want To

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The other day I was reading some more in Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water, (one of these days I’ll actually finish it) and she was talking about the writing process. She said that sometimes you just have to write no matter how you feel. Whether you’re inspired to or not. Because if you don’t write because you don’t feel like it, you won’t accomplish much. It’s a lot like prayer. You have to go ahead and pray whether you feel like it or not.

I found that really encouraging, mainly because I’ve seen the truth of it. Look at these ponderings. I started this back in December, and I’m still going strong. It’s not that I want a pat on the back or anything, I’m just marveling at how much I’ve written, whether I wanted to or not. Some days you don’t know what to write, and you just have to sit down and do it. The volumes of ponderings (all archived for your convenience) are proof of what happens when you write no matter how you feel. Some days it turned out pretty crappy. But I like to think that some days I touched upon something.

I find this encouraging as a writer. Even tonight, I didn’t really know what to say when I sat down. But something comes out, and that’s what it’s about.

Introspection

Climbing a Tree

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How long has it been since you’ve climbed a tree? You cling to the rough bark and feel your muscles flex as you pull yourself up, writhing and swinging like a disjointed monkey, dirtying your hands with nature. I climbed up there and realized fear. Have you ever been scared while climbing a tree? That’s what happens when you lose the child like freedom. How will I get down? What if I fall? I can just see my foot slipping and my body painfully slamming into the trunk as I frantically grasp for a branch. How odd that so long ago as a little child that never worried me. Falling never crossed my mind. The fear of pain or failure was never there. Yes, the pain did come, a scraped leg or a bruise on my elbow, but it never stopped me. Now I look at my hands and see scratches. I feel the tender pain on the palm of my hand from scraping against the tree-and I like it. Later I went back to that tree, and climbed it again. I scratched my hands some more, but this time I felt the child like freedom. I stopped at a branch and enjoyed the new found perspective. The wind blew, and I could feel the massive tree sway, I could see the ground far below me moving. But I kept climbing heavenward. I want to climb trees like a child. I want to climb dreams like a child. I don’t want to live life safely with two feet planted firmly on the ground. I want to feel the sting in my hand and know that the blood is flowing and I am soaring.

Movies

Inspired by Dead Poets’ Society

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Today I spent almost the entire day working my tail off on homework. Considering I spent most of last night doing the same thing, it gets to be rather exhausting. But I got a lot done, so that’s good. You know the one thing I hate about being a writing major? Writing crappy papers. Since I’m a writing major there’s this feeling that everything I write has to make people stop and go, “wow.” But sometimes you have these papers that you could care less about and you just have to crank them out. I was doing that yesterday. Now it’s not like they’re bad papers. By normal standards they’re decent. I’ll probably end up getting an A on them. But if these were for a writing class, I think I’d go crawl in a hole. I suppose you have to get the bad writing out of your system somewhere. And you can’t poor your heart and soul into every little report about the impacts on the graphic design field by the legendary Paul Rand. I think you’d burn out pretty quickly if you did. Oh well, that just bothers me.

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Employment

Landed an Internship in Chicago

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“Come on, oh baba don’t you want to go / Oh come on, oh baba don’t you want to go / Back to that same old place / Sweet home Chicago” (The Blues Brothers)

Hey, guess who’s going to Chicago for the summer? That’d be me. Seems like I landed myself an internship in the windy city. Of course the pay is nonexistent, so I’ll be finding myself another job, but the housing’s free. So if anybody reading these ponderings is gonna be anywhere near Chicagoland this summer, give me a call. You can buy me lunch.

It’s really amazing how things work out sometimes. It only bolsters my faith that God watches out for us and has things planned so well.

World News

Columbine Shootings

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Lately I’ve read several articles about the Columbine shootings, and it’s really made me think. In some senses, I rejoice, because these articles have been confirming the fact that a girl was martyred in that school, something the news media ignores. Not that I’m rejoicing in death, but when someone dies like that, it deserves to be heard. Her action can inspire thousands. But what I feel is sadly lacking from these articles is a call to action. I found this quote rather ironic, “Another student, Rachel Scott, seventeen years old, had just days before performed in the school play, cast in the role of an outcast, a student searching for herself in a world of peer pressure and popularity contests.” The writer was trying to show what a real person Rachel was. And yes, it’s sad that she died. But playing the role of the outcast? The very words ring in my ears. Outcast. Who were the outcasts? Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. I’m not trying to justify their actions, but it seems that people need to realize just how important it is to reach out to people. If Jesus Christ had been at Columbine High, who do you think he would have had lunch with?

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