I am an iPod voyeurist. I am completely and utterer fascinated by what music people have on their iPod (or MP3 player or phone or whatever other device they use to play music). Before you call the cops I have never done anything about this obsession other than occasionally ask close friends what they are listening to. Ok, maybe I have also inquired about the playlist of a few acquaintances...and perhaps once or twice approached a complete stranger. But I have it under control. Really.
It does not matter what the person looks like or what they are doing while listening to music, I am interested in what they have flowing through their headphones (or earbuds). Last night a man in his late fifties was walking by my house. He still had on his work uniform (looked like he worked for an auto repair shop) and was moving at a moderate pace. I so wanted to run up to him and ask what he was listening to. But I didn't. Instead I sat there, watching him walk by, imagining. Was it country? Soft rock? Folk? Or, and this is the romantic in me, was he blasting through some Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden? I hope so. Justin Bieber would just be so very, very wrong.
My greatest temptation is stopping a runner and asking them what gets them moving. See, I hate running. Put me on a field or a court playing a sport and I am happy to run till I drop (which takes much less time than it used to). But to run just to run, well, I think I would rather have a root canal. Without pain medication. Thus, I am fascinated by people who actually do run. Most of them listen to music while they run and I want to know what it is. Maybe it will help me get out there and pound the pavement. Then again, maybe it won't. I still want to know.
What music people listen to can tell you a lot about the person. Not everything mind you. My oldest daughter's iPod is filled with music from my iTunes library. One day she asked me to put some songs on and I agreed, with one condition. She had to listen to every song in its entirety the first time it played, even if she did not like it. She did (or at least she told me she did. Teenagers don't lie, right?) Even if the music is not of their choosing that can tell you something about the person and who their friends are.
Music also tells stories. Songs get tied to events in our lives and form a soundtrack that is unique to each person. The song Ironic brings back powerful memories for me - October 1996, it is morning and I am sitting in the airport in Amsterdam. We just arrived a few hours ago from Nairobi (we left Kenya at midnight). I was tired, cold, and could not wait for my next flight because my wife and I were headed home to introduce our brand new baby girl to her family. I had not heard any new western music in over a year and the first song I heard (and saw, it was a video) was Ironic. Everytime I hear that song I feel cold, tired and excited.
The playlist I really want to listen to, however, is God's. I imagine that over eternity God has mixed up a little (I would. How many times can you listen to Thriller before it just gets old?) but I want the original. I want to know what God was listening to when God created the universe. Sure, some of you might argue that there was no music yet, but we don't know that. Besides, I do most of my creative work with tunes blasting and so why not God? Just think about it. The moment before anything existed, right before the Big Bang, God flips on the iPod and out comes....
Oh, the possibilities! Was it something classical? Perhaps Motown (the Queen of Soul?) Queen's We Will Rock You? Or something that we have not even heard yet? That playlist, those songs, imagine what they could tell us about the character and nature of God. And the memories of those moments of creation.
So, if you have nothing better to do on a warm summer weekend, ponder what God was listening to. Don't be afraid to show your own personal bias. And, if you wish, share your thoughts with the rest of us. Because, as an iPod voyeurist, I really want to know what you are listening to as well.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
I Want to Be a Weed
The people that occupied the house we live in before us were...how shall I say this...somewhat negligent when it came to caring for the yard. If not taking proper care of your lawn were a crime they would be serving a life sentence. With no chance for parole. Ever. There are weeds everywhere. In the flower beds, in the bushes, under the trees and all throughout the yard. While I have not conducted a scientific survey I am sure there are more weeds in the yard than grass. Somewhere, Frederick Olmsted, the great landscape architect, is rolling over in his grave.
I do have to give the previous occupants some credit though. What they lacked in concern about weeds they easily made up for it their apparent love of weed diversity. Surrounding our house is a virtual United Nations of weeds. You name it, we have it. Every shape and size, color and texture can be found in our quarter acre of weed heaven.
Sadly, I do not share their love of weeds. I respect weeds unbelievable ability to multiply at the drop of a hat (even rabbits are jealous). I am in awe of their capacity to muscle out other plants and take over a yard in less than a season (even the Mob is envious). But I don't like them. They wreak too much havoc, are too difficult to control and some of them are down right painful to touch.
As I was gazing upon the weed wonderland that I call a yard it occurred to me, as it has to many a great thinker who has plumbed the intellectual depths of weeds, that they are a lot like the negative things in our lives. Fear, greed, hatred, anxiety, envy - each requires just a little foothold in souls and soon there is room for nothing else. These emotions spread quickly, take up all of our time and energy, and they turn our lives into ugly messes.
Still, I wonder if weeds are getting a bad rap. Is it not possible that positive emotions - love, happiness, generosity, hope - can also be like weeds? Why don't we ever compare these attitudes to those plants that can thrive on very little, transform not only your life/yard but that of your neighbor, and keep coming back no matter how hard we try to get rid of them? Why can't we call the best things in life weeds? Because Lord knows our society treat them like they were weeds.
Think about it. Our culture (including politicians and the media of both the left and the right) teaches us to work very hard at uprooting the positive attitudes in our lives and the lives of others. We are uncomfortable spending too much time with folks who are always happy (especially if they are happy first thing in the morning. These folks are not only annoying, they are possessed). We label those who are overly generous "naive." If your life is defined by unconditional love we call you a hopeless romantic and a sucker. And woe to the one who always hopes. They are dreamers and unrealistic. Be honest, we don't want our lives filled with too many of these positive traits. We treat them like weeds. We put a lot of time in trying to eradicate them from our lives. Just like we are taught.
What if we just let the weeds do their thing and grow. Instead of trying to make our lives look like a manicured lawn how about letting the weeds of joy and happiness and love and hope overrun everything. That is what Jesus did. Granted, he was treated like a weed, but guess what - there is nothing stronger, more resilient and just plain beautiful as love, hope and happiness. Try as we might we can't control them. They are contagious and unpredictable, just like weeds. And they are from God.
I will go you one better. I want to be a weed, to spread all that is good and wonderful into the lives of other people. I know, not everyone will appreciate me or what I am doing. Like Jesus, I may suffer the same fate as most weeds. But that is ok. Because like a weed Jesus keeps coming back with more love and hope and happiness. I want to be like that. I want to be a weed.
I do have to give the previous occupants some credit though. What they lacked in concern about weeds they easily made up for it their apparent love of weed diversity. Surrounding our house is a virtual United Nations of weeds. You name it, we have it. Every shape and size, color and texture can be found in our quarter acre of weed heaven.
Sadly, I do not share their love of weeds. I respect weeds unbelievable ability to multiply at the drop of a hat (even rabbits are jealous). I am in awe of their capacity to muscle out other plants and take over a yard in less than a season (even the Mob is envious). But I don't like them. They wreak too much havoc, are too difficult to control and some of them are down right painful to touch.
As I was gazing upon the weed wonderland that I call a yard it occurred to me, as it has to many a great thinker who has plumbed the intellectual depths of weeds, that they are a lot like the negative things in our lives. Fear, greed, hatred, anxiety, envy - each requires just a little foothold in souls and soon there is room for nothing else. These emotions spread quickly, take up all of our time and energy, and they turn our lives into ugly messes.
Still, I wonder if weeds are getting a bad rap. Is it not possible that positive emotions - love, happiness, generosity, hope - can also be like weeds? Why don't we ever compare these attitudes to those plants that can thrive on very little, transform not only your life/yard but that of your neighbor, and keep coming back no matter how hard we try to get rid of them? Why can't we call the best things in life weeds? Because Lord knows our society treat them like they were weeds.
Think about it. Our culture (including politicians and the media of both the left and the right) teaches us to work very hard at uprooting the positive attitudes in our lives and the lives of others. We are uncomfortable spending too much time with folks who are always happy (especially if they are happy first thing in the morning. These folks are not only annoying, they are possessed). We label those who are overly generous "naive." If your life is defined by unconditional love we call you a hopeless romantic and a sucker. And woe to the one who always hopes. They are dreamers and unrealistic. Be honest, we don't want our lives filled with too many of these positive traits. We treat them like weeds. We put a lot of time in trying to eradicate them from our lives. Just like we are taught.
What if we just let the weeds do their thing and grow. Instead of trying to make our lives look like a manicured lawn how about letting the weeds of joy and happiness and love and hope overrun everything. That is what Jesus did. Granted, he was treated like a weed, but guess what - there is nothing stronger, more resilient and just plain beautiful as love, hope and happiness. Try as we might we can't control them. They are contagious and unpredictable, just like weeds. And they are from God.
I will go you one better. I want to be a weed, to spread all that is good and wonderful into the lives of other people. I know, not everyone will appreciate me or what I am doing. Like Jesus, I may suffer the same fate as most weeds. But that is ok. Because like a weed Jesus keeps coming back with more love and hope and happiness. I want to be like that. I want to be a weed.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Curse of the Silly Bands
For the past six months or so the craze de jure in our neck of the woods has been silly bands. These are little plastic bracelets that come in an endless variety of shapes (animals, vehicles, faces) and colors. The fact that when the silly bands are on your arm you can't tell what shape they are is meaningless to kids, many of whom have gone silly for silly bands (sorry, I couldn't resist). I have seen kid's entire forearms covered with these things. At a junior high camp this summer I saw girl waiting for the camp nurse. She had a numbing sensation in her hands and wanted the nurse to tell her what was wrong. The nurse noticed that this girl's arm was full of silly bands that were cutting into her circulation. The girl removed the bands, fascinated by the deep groves they left in her skin, and amazed that she could feel her hands again. It was a miracle! Such, my friends, is the power of silly bands.
Naturally, my younger kids wanted silly bands. Truth be told they laid pretty low about silly bands until this past spring. Then it started - "Everybody has them," "But, they are so cool," and my personal favorite from my 2nd grade son, "If I get some then everybody will stop laughing at me." Right. I responded, "Dude, if they are laughing at you for not having silly bands then they will laugh at you even if you have them." My son got one of those cow at a passing train looks on his face. We headed off to the store to buy some silly bands.
Now, lest you think my wife and I were caving to peer pressure we were very clear with our children - we would buy one package of silly bands. Just one. And the two of them had to share the silly bands. This was a devious plan. When I was a kid ( I have three siblings) buying one of anything and then expecting all four of us to share it was the kiss of death. No one was going to be happy and I was banking that my children would feel the same way. Rather than share the silly bands I was certain they would opt just not to bother and the silly band craze would leave our house in peace. Like most evil parenting schemes this one failed. Miserably. So we began the quest for silly bands.
Store number one - no silly bands. Store number two - we just sold out. Store number three - a shipment is due in next week. By now I am picking up the rancid odor of a scam. Toy merchants are notorious for hyping a product and then not putting enough of it on the shelves. Remember Cabbage Patch kids? People fought over these things, I mean drew blood. A few years later you could find them at any dollar store. I start to get the feeling that if we find silly bands they are going to cost us a fortune. So I try another sure to fail parenting trick - I tell my kids that we can't find any and maybe we should just go home. A brilliant idea, except my kids are well aware that we have not even begun to exhaust all of the potential silly band outlets. I really start to dislike silly bands.
By store number four we are not even leaving the vehicle. My wife makes a recon mission into the retailer. I am so sure that she will not find them I park on the curb and keep the car running. So, of course, they have them. My kids freak. I am not sure what I feel - relief that we have found silly bands or nausea over what they will cost. A pack of 24 silly bands sets us back $4.99. Seems like a lot to me, but not to my children. Going to school sporting silly bands is priceless.
We go home and I play ref while my son and daughter divide up their spoils. The next day my son heads off to school proudly wearing dragon themed silly bands. My daughter is not so lucky. Her Kindergarten teacher outlawed silly bands in the classroom months ago. Still, she is content to wear them at home. That afternoon I pick them up from school. My son, who started the day with a dozen dragon silly bands now has 9, only one of which is a dragon. When I ask him what happened he tells me that the kids always trade silly bands. OK, but why did he have three fewer than before? Without missing a beat he tells me that some kids just asked if they could have some and so he gave them to them. Hmmmm. The next day we are down to five silly bands. Why? Well, one kid in class did not have any so my son gave him some. The following day there are three silly bands on his wrist. One kid was moving away and my son wanted to give him something to help remember his friends.
My first reaction should have been overwhelming pride. Here was my boy, the son of not one but two ordained ministers, freely sharing with others. That is what we taught him to do. Instead the first thought that cropped into my head was that he was getting ripped off by the other kids. The second notion was to tell him to stop giving them away because we had just bought the stupid things. Then it dawned on me - these silly bands were a curse. Not to my son, but to me. They were exposing all sorts of contradictions and hypocrisy in my life. And then I really, really hated silly bands.
There are people in this world who take advantage of others. I am afraid that my son, with his generous spirit, is going to be an easy target for such thieves. Yet, I don't want my children living in fear, especially fear of losing stuff. Somehow I am going to have to teach him to be wise and generous. Or should it be generous and wise? Which is more important? My head tells me wisdom, my heart tells me generosity. Hopefully he will have both in equal measure. If not, then I pray that he will never be afraid to be generous. That to me seems to be the character and nature of God.
I am also aware that my son has taught me a thing or two about generosity. In his own way he helped strip off layers of mistrust and selfishness that I was not even aware had been accumulating on my spirit. He guided me back to a place where sharing is more important than possessing. I am grateful for that. And I hope to never see another silly band again as long as I live.
Naturally, my younger kids wanted silly bands. Truth be told they laid pretty low about silly bands until this past spring. Then it started - "Everybody has them," "But, they are so cool," and my personal favorite from my 2nd grade son, "If I get some then everybody will stop laughing at me." Right. I responded, "Dude, if they are laughing at you for not having silly bands then they will laugh at you even if you have them." My son got one of those cow at a passing train looks on his face. We headed off to the store to buy some silly bands.
Now, lest you think my wife and I were caving to peer pressure we were very clear with our children - we would buy one package of silly bands. Just one. And the two of them had to share the silly bands. This was a devious plan. When I was a kid ( I have three siblings) buying one of anything and then expecting all four of us to share it was the kiss of death. No one was going to be happy and I was banking that my children would feel the same way. Rather than share the silly bands I was certain they would opt just not to bother and the silly band craze would leave our house in peace. Like most evil parenting schemes this one failed. Miserably. So we began the quest for silly bands.
Store number one - no silly bands. Store number two - we just sold out. Store number three - a shipment is due in next week. By now I am picking up the rancid odor of a scam. Toy merchants are notorious for hyping a product and then not putting enough of it on the shelves. Remember Cabbage Patch kids? People fought over these things, I mean drew blood. A few years later you could find them at any dollar store. I start to get the feeling that if we find silly bands they are going to cost us a fortune. So I try another sure to fail parenting trick - I tell my kids that we can't find any and maybe we should just go home. A brilliant idea, except my kids are well aware that we have not even begun to exhaust all of the potential silly band outlets. I really start to dislike silly bands.
By store number four we are not even leaving the vehicle. My wife makes a recon mission into the retailer. I am so sure that she will not find them I park on the curb and keep the car running. So, of course, they have them. My kids freak. I am not sure what I feel - relief that we have found silly bands or nausea over what they will cost. A pack of 24 silly bands sets us back $4.99. Seems like a lot to me, but not to my children. Going to school sporting silly bands is priceless.
We go home and I play ref while my son and daughter divide up their spoils. The next day my son heads off to school proudly wearing dragon themed silly bands. My daughter is not so lucky. Her Kindergarten teacher outlawed silly bands in the classroom months ago. Still, she is content to wear them at home. That afternoon I pick them up from school. My son, who started the day with a dozen dragon silly bands now has 9, only one of which is a dragon. When I ask him what happened he tells me that the kids always trade silly bands. OK, but why did he have three fewer than before? Without missing a beat he tells me that some kids just asked if they could have some and so he gave them to them. Hmmmm. The next day we are down to five silly bands. Why? Well, one kid in class did not have any so my son gave him some. The following day there are three silly bands on his wrist. One kid was moving away and my son wanted to give him something to help remember his friends.
My first reaction should have been overwhelming pride. Here was my boy, the son of not one but two ordained ministers, freely sharing with others. That is what we taught him to do. Instead the first thought that cropped into my head was that he was getting ripped off by the other kids. The second notion was to tell him to stop giving them away because we had just bought the stupid things. Then it dawned on me - these silly bands were a curse. Not to my son, but to me. They were exposing all sorts of contradictions and hypocrisy in my life. And then I really, really hated silly bands.
There are people in this world who take advantage of others. I am afraid that my son, with his generous spirit, is going to be an easy target for such thieves. Yet, I don't want my children living in fear, especially fear of losing stuff. Somehow I am going to have to teach him to be wise and generous. Or should it be generous and wise? Which is more important? My head tells me wisdom, my heart tells me generosity. Hopefully he will have both in equal measure. If not, then I pray that he will never be afraid to be generous. That to me seems to be the character and nature of God.
I am also aware that my son has taught me a thing or two about generosity. In his own way he helped strip off layers of mistrust and selfishness that I was not even aware had been accumulating on my spirit. He guided me back to a place where sharing is more important than possessing. I am grateful for that. And I hope to never see another silly band again as long as I live.
Monday, July 26, 2010
A Few Good Lies
A few months back, right before the release of Iron Man 2 some creative folks with way too much time on their hands posted some funny mashups on YouTube. They inserted Iron Man into a few classic film scenes, including Titanic and Dirty Dancing, where Iron Man dances with Patrick Swayze in the finale of the movie. These mashups got a lot of press as well as hits. So, being the creative type (with apparently too much time on my hands) I came up with the brilliant idea of creating my own mashups. Only these would involve classic film scenes inserted into equally classic stories from the Bible. Now, since we are dealing with two different media, film and written text, this will require some use of your imagination, but I am confident that the effort will be worth it. So, without further ado, let the mashing begin.
All four gospels contain stories of Jesus being arrested and brought before Pilot, the Roman governor in charge of Judea. The book of John has an interesting exchange between Jesus and Pilot, in which the governor asks Jesus if he is the king of the Jews. Jesus refuse to play this game and tells Pilot
"You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." Pilot responds by asking Jesus what is the truth.
John does not tell us what Jesus said next. But I have a idea of what might have gone down and it involves Jesus channeling his inner Jack Nicholson. Click on the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j2F4VcBmeo&feature=related
Can't you just see it, Jesus screaming back at Pilot, "You want the truth! You can't handle the truth!" Brilliant, absolutely, dead on brilliant. Pilot could not have handled the truth even if he really wanted it. It would have turned everything he knew on its head. Pilot was looking for a political leader, a king like himself when the truth of who Jesus was (and is) was beyond anything Pilot could comprehend.
I have another mashup version of this scene. It still involves Jesus as Jack Nicholson, but I am standing in the place of Pilot. I want the truth, I demand the truth, I think I am entitled to the truth. Make no mistake, I have put Jesus on trial a number of times in my life. Each time I have asked for the truth. But could I really handle the truth?
I do not believe that Jesus has ever withheld the truth from me. Jesus came to bear witness to the truth. The problem is that too often I want Jesus to tell me what I want to hear and call it the truth. I want Jesus to justify me, to affirm everything I say and do. And when my life does not go the way I wish it to I want Jesus to break down in the witness stand and say, "Roger, your right and I am wrong." What I want is not the truth but a few good lies that sound like the truth.
The truth is I am a child of God, created in the image and likeness of God. I am not God. Nor am I the only child of God. My life is intertwined with billions of other lives. As a follower of Jesus I am called to care about all these other people as much as I care about myself. That is a truth I don't always want to hear. It is a truth I don't always think I can handle. But it is the truth that can set me free to live life in all of its fullness.
All four gospels contain stories of Jesus being arrested and brought before Pilot, the Roman governor in charge of Judea. The book of John has an interesting exchange between Jesus and Pilot, in which the governor asks Jesus if he is the king of the Jews. Jesus refuse to play this game and tells Pilot
"You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." Pilot responds by asking Jesus what is the truth.
John does not tell us what Jesus said next. But I have a idea of what might have gone down and it involves Jesus channeling his inner Jack Nicholson. Click on the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j2F4VcBmeo&feature=related
Can't you just see it, Jesus screaming back at Pilot, "You want the truth! You can't handle the truth!" Brilliant, absolutely, dead on brilliant. Pilot could not have handled the truth even if he really wanted it. It would have turned everything he knew on its head. Pilot was looking for a political leader, a king like himself when the truth of who Jesus was (and is) was beyond anything Pilot could comprehend.
I have another mashup version of this scene. It still involves Jesus as Jack Nicholson, but I am standing in the place of Pilot. I want the truth, I demand the truth, I think I am entitled to the truth. Make no mistake, I have put Jesus on trial a number of times in my life. Each time I have asked for the truth. But could I really handle the truth?
I do not believe that Jesus has ever withheld the truth from me. Jesus came to bear witness to the truth. The problem is that too often I want Jesus to tell me what I want to hear and call it the truth. I want Jesus to justify me, to affirm everything I say and do. And when my life does not go the way I wish it to I want Jesus to break down in the witness stand and say, "Roger, your right and I am wrong." What I want is not the truth but a few good lies that sound like the truth.
The truth is I am a child of God, created in the image and likeness of God. I am not God. Nor am I the only child of God. My life is intertwined with billions of other lives. As a follower of Jesus I am called to care about all these other people as much as I care about myself. That is a truth I don't always want to hear. It is a truth I don't always think I can handle. But it is the truth that can set me free to live life in all of its fullness.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Changes part 4
You might need something to hold on to
When all the answers, they don't amount to much
Somebody that you could just to talk to
And a little of that Human Touch
Human Touch Bruce Springsteen
I blame all of this on Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. Stupid You've Got Mail. Used to be you had friends. You saw your friends and they saw you. Was that good enough for Tom and Meg? Noooooooo. They had to go and make a movie about building a relationship via emails. What's worse it was a romantic comedy (code words for chick flick). People saw this monstrosity of a movie and thought "Hey, that looks cool!" Soon relationships through emails gave way to relationships grown via Instant Messaging and Facebook and MySpace and Twitter and Skype. All because of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. I hope they are still Sleepless in Seattle!
Wow, I feel better. Thanks for allowing me to vent. Truth be told I am a big fan of social media. I have been able to connect with people in ways that were simply impossible even five years ago. Thanks to Facebook I have been able to find, and be found, by folks from all over the country. I remember last fall when an old girl friend from high school asked to be my Facebook friend. We had not seen each other in over twenty years. It was great (for some reason my wife did not share my excitement about reconnecting with this long lost friend. Wonder why?)
Because of the speed of the new social media communication is instantaneous. Within fifteen minutes of my friend posting that his mother was in the hospital over thirty people had replied with words of comfort and support. I have a "smart phone" (as opposed to a "stupid phone"?) All of my emails and Facebook messages get pushed to my phone so I don't even have to be tethered to a computer to be in touch with people. If I have a joy or concern or just want to post what I am thinking I can do so whenever and wherever I want (except, again, from church camp.)
Some people complain that too much irrelevant information is posted. Do I really need to know what you had for dinner? No, but relationships are nurtured by the seemingly meaningless details of life. Think about all of the things we talk about with our co-workers. We share vacation plans, updates on our kids health, and yes, what we eat. So why should Facebook relationships be any different.
Of course, there is a shadow side to social media relationships. It is called Farmville. Or Vampire Wars. Or a legion of other names that identify the games people play. I hate them. I resent having to be told about someones need for help building a virtual chick coop. I grow weary of hitting the "Hide" button over and over again so I don't have to look at all of this stuff. Yet, I am aware that these annoying games are, in their own sick sort of way, builders of relationships. After all, many of them require help from friends in order to play.
I think relationships built and/or sustained by social media are here to stay. I don't have a problem with that fact. I do, however, have a question. When do we touch? I am a physical person. I like to touch. I need to touch, human skin not plastic keypads. I can hug my laptop, but it cannot hug me back. Or hold my hand or give me a kiss.
God created humans with a need for physical touch. Even before we are old enough to know anything we crave being held. Some of us require more touch than others, but every person I have ever met needs contact with other people. I believe that social media has changed some aspects of our relationships but it will not alter this fact of human life. If anything, our need for touch will alter social media. How? I don't have a clue. But it will happen. In the meantime I will continue to enjoy my relationships with friends old and new via the new social media, usually with one of my kids on my lap because they need to be held.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Changes part 3
She is an angel, she is in him
She's got my big toe, and her mother's lips
She gives fishy kisses, and great big bear hugs
42 pounds of pure love
Then one day she'll be 17, feelin' too big for her home
Seems she was just only 3, oh how our children they grow
You watch them grow, then you let 'em go
She's got my big toe, and her mother's lips
She gives fishy kisses, and great big bear hugs
42 pounds of pure love
Then one day she'll be 17, feelin' too big for her home
Seems she was just only 3, oh how our children they grow
You watch them grow, then you let 'em go
Watch Them Grow Zach Gill
There are some things in life you cannot understand until you experience them. Marriage would be one. Parenting another. You are welcome to read all the books you want, but it will not help (yes, this even applies to the What to Expect series). Until you have kids you have no idea what you are in for.
I am a big fan of having multiple children, though I prefer to have them one at a time. Why? Well, the tax write-off is not a bad thing, but really it has to do with practice. See, the first go-round you have no clue what the hell is going on. Everything is a mystery, from diapers to teething to school to soccer to dating to going off to college to... You make mistakes. Child number two comes along and you have a vague idea of what you are doing. Only, this child is different from the first and it takes you a while to figure this fact out. So you make more mistakes, though they are different than with your firstborn. Here is why number three is crucial. With your third child you get a chance to put your all-pro parenting skills on display. The five-second rule, which showed way too much paranoia on your part, matures into the if-nothing-is-on-it-go-ahead-and-stick-it-in-your-mouth rule. By child number three even that is really more of a guideline than a rule. You panic less, take fewer pictures, stop putting every finger painting on the fridge door, and accept that your children will eventually understand that ranch dressing is a condiment not a food group.
There is, however, always lurking in the back of your mind the knowledge that at some point in time you will run out of children. If you do your job right your kids will grow up into adults. And this, dear reader, makes me feel very uncomfortable. I love my kids. I love who they are and where they are right now. I have one going into high school. We go to the movies together and share our love of Green Day and Monty Python. My son is old enough to have his own interests but still wants to hang around with me. I can not tell you how much I treasure that. My youngest is not a baby anymore, but still of an age where she gets into things for free (and remember, free is our friend.) She likes it when I read to her, though she is learning to read on her own. I am at a perfect place. It's like a parenting buffet. I don't want it to change.
So, of course, it is changing. There is a part of me that can't wait to do adult things with my adult children (my oldest and I already have a date at a pub on her 21st birthday.) Yet, most of me does not want to lose what I have right now. I guess I could try and freeze my relationships with my children, always treating them like I do right now, but I doubt that it would work out well and the therapist bills would bankrupt us all.
As I ponder (read obsess) what to do I think about my relationship with God. God has watched children grow up billions of times, so there must be some great wisdom and insight I can glean (of course, God gets to keep making new children, which does not seem entirely fair, but who am I to complain?) What I keep coming back to is that I do not need to fear losing my children. They were of God before they were a gift to my wife and myself. They are God's children created in God's image and that will never change. I also don't need to be afraid of growing old myself, for I too will always be a child of God. Finally, it is okay to miss holding my kids hands when we walk across the street, but there will be other hands to hold. Perhaps my own grandchildren. If not, then the hand of another child who needs someone to care and love for them. There are a million different ways that I can interact with children each and every day and participate in the joy and wonder of their lives.
The fact that my children are growing up has helped open me up to God's call to live beyond myself. Instead of lamenting what I sense I am losing, I can reach out and share my love for children in new and exciting ways. Of course, I they are not "my" kids then I will lose the tax break. I will need to find a way around that little problem...legally, of course.
Changes part 2
I have always been told that if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water it would jump out (what creature, given arms and or legs, would opt to stay in? Really). If, however, you put said amphibian in a pot of water and slowly turn up the heat the frog will not notice and boil to death. Hmmmm. This sounds like an urban legend. I have not met a single person who has ever tried this out. Why would you want to boil a frog anyway? I always thought you fried their legs.
This illustration has been used to explain a number of different things in our world including marriages (I know, the image of a frog slowly boiling to death in a pot of water is oh so romantic. I feel a Hallmark moment about to happen!) Yes, in some marriages there are major events that happen that can threaten the relationship (death of a child, infidelity, major illness). Yet, for most of us, the changes happen very slowly and without our noticing it our marriages slowly die out.
I think there might be some truth to this (the marriage part, not the frog). I remember a decent chunk of the day my wife and I got married. Her uncle is the one who performed the service. There were people there. My wife wore white. After that, it's a blur. I do, however, recall what I was thinking as her uncle was giving his homily (oh, like you paid attention to what the minister said at your wedding. Please.) I looked at my wife and thought "yeah, I can grow old with this person." What can I say, I'm a helpless romantic.
The problem is, that person I married on a cold December day is not the one I am married to now. Nor is she likely to be the one I will be enjoying senior discounts with in the not too distant future. Want to know something else - I am not the same person she married, either (though I still have my incredible green eyes that make me irresistible to her. Most of the time. Well, some of the time.)
In seventeen years we have lived in two countries, four states, had three children, changed jobs a number of times, each of us has had experiences with unemployment, buying houses, selling houses, and a couple of medical problems that, while not major, still mattered. Oh, and did I mention we have three kids. Only an idiot in his twenties could stand up on his wedding day and think that the person he was looking at was not going to be changed by life. And I am that idiot.
I am convinced that there are certain times in every relationship where you have to fall in love with your spouse all over again. Fall in love with the person they are now, not the one they used to be. Some people don't do this. They stay married, for their own reasons, but at some juncture they chose not to love the person they are married to. I am not judging those folks, but I can't do that. I really am a romantic. I want to be in love with my wife. And that means at various times in our life together I have had to fall in love with her. And she with me. It will happen again, somewhere down the road, maybe many more times in the future.
I also believe that we have to fall in love with God many times in our life. The Bible is full of marriage language to describe God's relationship with God's people. As I change so my understanding of God changes. At various points in my life I have had to come to grips with this "new" God, the one I did not know before. I have to be honest here, I have not always liked the new God, much less loved the new God. Not at first anyway. I want what is comfortable, predictable, familiar. I want God to stay the same as when we first met. But then I would be missing out on so much because the new God is full of so many surprises and wonders and levels of love I never knew before. So, I say turn up the heat and let the water boil. OK, maybe just warm it up, about hot tub temperature, if you will. But let the changes come.
This illustration has been used to explain a number of different things in our world including marriages (I know, the image of a frog slowly boiling to death in a pot of water is oh so romantic. I feel a Hallmark moment about to happen!) Yes, in some marriages there are major events that happen that can threaten the relationship (death of a child, infidelity, major illness). Yet, for most of us, the changes happen very slowly and without our noticing it our marriages slowly die out.
I think there might be some truth to this (the marriage part, not the frog). I remember a decent chunk of the day my wife and I got married. Her uncle is the one who performed the service. There were people there. My wife wore white. After that, it's a blur. I do, however, recall what I was thinking as her uncle was giving his homily (oh, like you paid attention to what the minister said at your wedding. Please.) I looked at my wife and thought "yeah, I can grow old with this person." What can I say, I'm a helpless romantic.
The problem is, that person I married on a cold December day is not the one I am married to now. Nor is she likely to be the one I will be enjoying senior discounts with in the not too distant future. Want to know something else - I am not the same person she married, either (though I still have my incredible green eyes that make me irresistible to her. Most of the time. Well, some of the time.)
In seventeen years we have lived in two countries, four states, had three children, changed jobs a number of times, each of us has had experiences with unemployment, buying houses, selling houses, and a couple of medical problems that, while not major, still mattered. Oh, and did I mention we have three kids. Only an idiot in his twenties could stand up on his wedding day and think that the person he was looking at was not going to be changed by life. And I am that idiot.
I am convinced that there are certain times in every relationship where you have to fall in love with your spouse all over again. Fall in love with the person they are now, not the one they used to be. Some people don't do this. They stay married, for their own reasons, but at some juncture they chose not to love the person they are married to. I am not judging those folks, but I can't do that. I really am a romantic. I want to be in love with my wife. And that means at various times in our life together I have had to fall in love with her. And she with me. It will happen again, somewhere down the road, maybe many more times in the future.
I also believe that we have to fall in love with God many times in our life. The Bible is full of marriage language to describe God's relationship with God's people. As I change so my understanding of God changes. At various points in my life I have had to come to grips with this "new" God, the one I did not know before. I have to be honest here, I have not always liked the new God, much less loved the new God. Not at first anyway. I want what is comfortable, predictable, familiar. I want God to stay the same as when we first met. But then I would be missing out on so much because the new God is full of so many surprises and wonders and levels of love I never knew before. So, I say turn up the heat and let the water boil. OK, maybe just warm it up, about hot tub temperature, if you will. But let the changes come.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Changes - part 1
I have always been a big fan of the Indiana Jones films. So, when a fourth film was released I made sure to go and see it during its first weekend at the theater. My first thought when they finally showed a close-up of Harrison Ford was "Wow, he looks old." I am not sure what I expected to see. It had been almost twenty years (that's two decades for those of you playing at home) since the third film was released. Surely, even in the age of computer imaging and touch-ups a man in his mid-sixties is going to look like a man in his mid-sixties.
Why did Harrison's Ford age and appearance matter? Well, for starters, our culture glorifies and worships youth. In some parts of the world you are not taken seriously until you have a few gray hairs and wrinkles on your face. Not so in the good ol' US of A. We value things that are new, fresh, unblemished even if that means untested and inexperienced. To see a sixty year old man up on the silver screen trying to play an action hero just seemed wrong. The key word here is seemed. There are no laws that say you can only save the world if you are under fifty. But our culture sure acts like it is a crime.
Another reason an aging Harrison Ford bothered me was because by getting older he had messed up our relationship. Indiana Jones and I started hanging out in 1981. My girlfriend at the time won tickets to the opening night premier of the movie. The theater was packed, the movie fantastic and I developed a serious love for that character (The girl? She and I broke up a few months later). I have all but memorized the lines to each of the first three films. Indiana Jones was always supposed to look like a handsome, rugged man in his thirties. Now he looked different, even sounded different. I want my original Indy back, the one I always wanted to be like (who did not qualify for an AARP card).
I have been thinking a lot about how relationships change. The person I married 17 years ago is not the one I woke up with this morning. My children are in a constant state of change and it seems I have to reinvent my relationship with them on a daily basis. All around me, everywhere I look in my life, relationships are changing. The question I am wrestling with is what to do about it. And is there any guidance that my faith can provide me as I attempt to be in a thousand every changing relationships? That is what I will be writing about over the next few days. Feel free to add your comments throughout the week.
Why did Harrison's Ford age and appearance matter? Well, for starters, our culture glorifies and worships youth. In some parts of the world you are not taken seriously until you have a few gray hairs and wrinkles on your face. Not so in the good ol' US of A. We value things that are new, fresh, unblemished even if that means untested and inexperienced. To see a sixty year old man up on the silver screen trying to play an action hero just seemed wrong. The key word here is seemed. There are no laws that say you can only save the world if you are under fifty. But our culture sure acts like it is a crime.
Another reason an aging Harrison Ford bothered me was because by getting older he had messed up our relationship. Indiana Jones and I started hanging out in 1981. My girlfriend at the time won tickets to the opening night premier of the movie. The theater was packed, the movie fantastic and I developed a serious love for that character (The girl? She and I broke up a few months later). I have all but memorized the lines to each of the first three films. Indiana Jones was always supposed to look like a handsome, rugged man in his thirties. Now he looked different, even sounded different. I want my original Indy back, the one I always wanted to be like (who did not qualify for an AARP card).
I have been thinking a lot about how relationships change. The person I married 17 years ago is not the one I woke up with this morning. My children are in a constant state of change and it seems I have to reinvent my relationship with them on a daily basis. All around me, everywhere I look in my life, relationships are changing. The question I am wrestling with is what to do about it. And is there any guidance that my faith can provide me as I attempt to be in a thousand every changing relationships? That is what I will be writing about over the next few days. Feel free to add your comments throughout the week.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Mailbag
Well, it seems that the mailbox is getting a little full so time to answer some emails.
Mary in Illinois writes:
Love the blog. I have a problem and wonder if you can help. My dog has gone off the deep end. I think he is possessed. He pees everywhere and tears up all of the furniture. How do I tell if he really is possessed by demons? If he is what can I do?
Mary, thanks. These are the tough hitting questions we like at The Blog. I have three children, all of which were toddlers which means I know all about demon possessions. Truly I tell you, evil spirits abound in 2 year-olds. Back in the old days sniffing out the possessed was fairly simple. If the community suspected that someone was consumed by an demon they held them underwater. The logic went something like this-if the person floated, they were possessed and they burned them at the stake. If they drowned, then they were fine. Except that either way they were now DEAD! I doubt this type of old school approach is what you are after (and PETA would be less than pleased). So, let us try a different tact. First, start by trying to identify any stress creators in your dogs life. Have you recently moved? Is the dog in the family way perhaps (I mean, your sure its a boy, right)? Do you dress the dog in "cute" outfits, thus humiliating it in front of its peers? If you answered yes to any of these, then that could be the cause of Fido's freaking out.
What if you cannot identify the root of the problem? I suppose you could try sprinkling it with holy water, though if Hollywood is correct, and I like to think that the movies never lie to us, then your dog might start smoking and wither away into a stinky pile of canine hair. Or, if you have endless financial resources you could hire the doggie equivalent of Dr. Phil.
Tough choices, I know. But that is the nature of relationships. To truly love someone (or in this case something) is to allow them into our lives where they have the potential to do all sorts of good and wondrous things. And to make a mess of the carpet. Relationships require lots of time and energy and there are some days when you wonder if it is really worth it (in the case of toddlers you ask yourself that question most days).
Relationships require at least two people (or a person and a dog..or a person and a cat...or a cat and a dog...). We can only control how we act and react in our relationships, we can't make other people behave the way we want them to. If they chose not to respect us, care for us, and honor who we are then we have to make difficult decisions. Do we continue in the relationship or end it. There is no right or wrong answer. You will have to determine how much damage is too much.
The good news is that no matter what you opt to do you have a community that supports you. Its called the church and it means that you are not alone. Your dog, however, I am not so sure about.
Do you have a question for The Blog? Send us an email at revroger@tds.net.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Stoner Rock
If you use iTunes you may be familiar with one of its features called "Genius" (I love the bold humility of the Apple Corp.). What Genius does is take your iTunes library and create categories, lumping together artists that the software thinks have a similar style of music. Why did Apple do this? I don't know, because they could? Besides, if you are in a metal mood you don't want your musical vibe interrupted with Pat Boone (who did...sorry, I'm laughing so hard it's difficult to see the keyboard, make an album of metal covers. Seriously.)
My "Genius" page has twelve categories, including Metal (sans Pat Boone. And how did Nine Inch Nails become a metal band?), Alternative; Adult Alternative (I have no idea what the difference is); Indi/Lo-Fi; Soul, and Modern Blues (when did Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker become modern?). It also has one called Hard Rock and Stoner Rock. Yes, that's right, Stoner Rock.
When I first saw this category I did not know what it meant. Does Stoner Rock mean the members of the band were/are stoned? Is it implying that I, as the listener, have a drug problem? Or is it referring to the music as being "stoner?" I opted not to question the software, after all it is called "Genius." Then, while I was listening to my new found Hard Rock and Stoner playlist, out through the speakers came Huey Lewis and the News. OK, the song "I Want A New Drug" but still, come on, Huey Lewis? Hard Rock? Not on a good day. Stoner Rock? Now I am really confused as to what that means.
When I grow up I want a job naming things. My first choice to to work for a developer coming up with names for shopping centers and subdivisions. Someone, I kid you not, got paid to call a subdivision Rolling Meadows when the landscape was neither rolling nor contained anything resembling a meadow. I want that person's job. Bad. Think about it. All you have to do is come up with names that sound pretty. They do not have to have any basis in reality. I would create a Wheel-O-Subdivisions, with all sorts of cool sounding words like hills, lake, and farms. When my boss needed a name for a new project I would just give the Wheel-O-Subdivision a spin or two and shazam, my job would be done.
I am flexible. If I can't get on with a developer then perhaps a paint manufacturer. Heaven knows only a frustrated poet could come up with the names given to most paints. If all else fails I guess I could try to get a job at Apple. After all, I have a genius level IQ.
Our loose use of language breeds a healthy skepticism. Many of us are slow to believe that "Happy Acres" is really all that happy (especially when you just paid $200,000 for a three bedroom/two bath on a quarter acre lot). Our distrust spills over into faith communities who use words like hope, compassion, life, community, forgiveness, grace, and love. How do we know that these are not just hollow words that get strung together in empty phrases?
We don't. At least not until we give the community the opportunity to show that they are more than just words. After all, compassion is not a label, it is something you experience. Sure, there are more than a few instances in which churches have failed to live up to their own vocabulary. But there are a million times more instances in which words could not even come close to capturing what the faith community is capable of sharing. I know this to be true (and not just because I am a genius). I have lived it, felt it, had my life transformed by communities of faith. I wish the same for life changing experiences for you and hope that Tree of Life can be a part of it. Unless your life changing experience includes Pat Boone in leather and chains singing a cover version of Enter Sandman. Then you are on your own. So on your own.
My "Genius" page has twelve categories, including Metal (sans Pat Boone. And how did Nine Inch Nails become a metal band?), Alternative; Adult Alternative (I have no idea what the difference is); Indi/Lo-Fi; Soul, and Modern Blues (when did Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker become modern?). It also has one called Hard Rock and Stoner Rock. Yes, that's right, Stoner Rock.
When I first saw this category I did not know what it meant. Does Stoner Rock mean the members of the band were/are stoned? Is it implying that I, as the listener, have a drug problem? Or is it referring to the music as being "stoner?" I opted not to question the software, after all it is called "Genius." Then, while I was listening to my new found Hard Rock and Stoner playlist, out through the speakers came Huey Lewis and the News. OK, the song "I Want A New Drug" but still, come on, Huey Lewis? Hard Rock? Not on a good day. Stoner Rock? Now I am really confused as to what that means.
When I grow up I want a job naming things. My first choice to to work for a developer coming up with names for shopping centers and subdivisions. Someone, I kid you not, got paid to call a subdivision Rolling Meadows when the landscape was neither rolling nor contained anything resembling a meadow. I want that person's job. Bad. Think about it. All you have to do is come up with names that sound pretty. They do not have to have any basis in reality. I would create a Wheel-O-Subdivisions, with all sorts of cool sounding words like hills, lake, and farms. When my boss needed a name for a new project I would just give the Wheel-O-Subdivision a spin or two and shazam, my job would be done.
I am flexible. If I can't get on with a developer then perhaps a paint manufacturer. Heaven knows only a frustrated poet could come up with the names given to most paints. If all else fails I guess I could try to get a job at Apple. After all, I have a genius level IQ.
Our loose use of language breeds a healthy skepticism. Many of us are slow to believe that "Happy Acres" is really all that happy (especially when you just paid $200,000 for a three bedroom/two bath on a quarter acre lot). Our distrust spills over into faith communities who use words like hope, compassion, life, community, forgiveness, grace, and love. How do we know that these are not just hollow words that get strung together in empty phrases?
We don't. At least not until we give the community the opportunity to show that they are more than just words. After all, compassion is not a label, it is something you experience. Sure, there are more than a few instances in which churches have failed to live up to their own vocabulary. But there are a million times more instances in which words could not even come close to capturing what the faith community is capable of sharing. I know this to be true (and not just because I am a genius). I have lived it, felt it, had my life transformed by communities of faith. I wish the same for life changing experiences for you and hope that Tree of Life can be a part of it. Unless your life changing experience includes Pat Boone in leather and chains singing a cover version of Enter Sandman. Then you are on your own. So on your own.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
5 Reasons NOT to Go to Church
I have been doing this ministry thing for almost 20 years (I know, who would have guessed. I look so young. Good genes.) I must confess that in that time I have heard mostly weak, pathetic excuses about why people don't go to church. "We got home late," "Jimmy has a soccer game," "We had to go to my third cousin, twice removed funeral." Please! People, people, people... Look, I understand your not wanting to go to church. I do. What you need is some originality, some creativity in avoiding that Sunday morning obligation. So, I humbly offer up 5 can't miss answers that you can give the next time someone asks you if you are going to church this Sunday. Use them as they are or change as needed but please, when you speak of me, speak kindly.
1) The Jehovah Witness folks are due for coffee. Some people think that the JW are a cult. That you are even willing to talk to them is sure to freak out your church going friends. Of course your friends may stage an intervention, but I say take the risk.
2) We went to Cirque du Soleil last night and I doubt your church can compete. Brutal, but probably accurate. Honestly, what church can compete with acrobats?...Stupid acrobats!
3) Oh, now you ask me. What, I wasn’t good enough for you last week?! This only works once, like the first time someone asks you to church, so use it wisely. In your face aggression always throws people off their game.
4) My husband/wife/child/dog only has a week left so we are doing what they want. This is war, there are going to be casualties, including the truth. Plus, its not like you said they were dying.
5) Jesus went to church and look what they did to him. Actually, churches did not exist when Jesus walked the earth, but the overall point is still valid. No one wants to be crucified, even people who go to church. Especially people who go to church.
I can think of a lot better things to do with my time than go to church. Showing up on Sunday morning and passively watching people talk and sing is not my idea of a good time. Hey, I might as well stay at home and watch the politicians ramble on during the Sunday news programs. At least I can stay in my pajamas.
What I can't live without is BEING the church. Being the church means I get to do all of the life altering things that Jesus did - feeding the hungry, bringing good news to the poor, healing and hope to the sick. Being the church allows me to be part of a community where people will celebrate with me when good things happen in my life and walk with me through the dark times. And I get to share in other people's joys and sorrows. Being church is about growing into a relationship with God through prayer and learning and active worship. Being church is a 24/7/365 way of life.
So if you want to skip out on going to church this Sunday remember, I've got your back. If you want to BE the church what are you waiting for? You don't need and excuse!
1) The Jehovah Witness folks are due for coffee. Some people think that the JW are a cult. That you are even willing to talk to them is sure to freak out your church going friends. Of course your friends may stage an intervention, but I say take the risk.
2) We went to Cirque du Soleil last night and I doubt your church can compete. Brutal, but probably accurate. Honestly, what church can compete with acrobats?...Stupid acrobats!
3) Oh, now you ask me. What, I wasn’t good enough for you last week?! This only works once, like the first time someone asks you to church, so use it wisely. In your face aggression always throws people off their game.
4) My husband/wife/child/dog only has a week left so we are doing what they want. This is war, there are going to be casualties, including the truth. Plus, its not like you said they were dying.
5) Jesus went to church and look what they did to him. Actually, churches did not exist when Jesus walked the earth, but the overall point is still valid. No one wants to be crucified, even people who go to church. Especially people who go to church.
I can think of a lot better things to do with my time than go to church. Showing up on Sunday morning and passively watching people talk and sing is not my idea of a good time. Hey, I might as well stay at home and watch the politicians ramble on during the Sunday news programs. At least I can stay in my pajamas.
What I can't live without is BEING the church. Being the church means I get to do all of the life altering things that Jesus did - feeding the hungry, bringing good news to the poor, healing and hope to the sick. Being the church allows me to be part of a community where people will celebrate with me when good things happen in my life and walk with me through the dark times. And I get to share in other people's joys and sorrows. Being church is about growing into a relationship with God through prayer and learning and active worship. Being church is a 24/7/365 way of life.
So if you want to skip out on going to church this Sunday remember, I've got your back. If you want to BE the church what are you waiting for? You don't need and excuse!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Pirate Grace
Its not just about living forever, Jackie. The trick is living with yourself, forever.
Captain Teague, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
A few years ago my oldest daughter and I went to see an IMAX movie. One of the previews was for the Rolling Stones concert film, Shine A Light. There, in six story glory, were the aging rock icons. I have always had something of a love/hate relationship with the Stones (I am sure they feel the same way about me). I really like some of their music, but even the thought of seeing them play Start Me Up live was not enough to overcome my fear, and I do mean fear, of seeing a 60 foot high Keith Richards. There are some images that no amount of psychotherapy can help you overcome.
How Keith is alive is beyond me and most medical science. All those years of hard living did, however, prove helpful in landing the part of the grizzly Captain Teague in the last installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. Turns out that Johnny Depp patterned his character, Jack Sparrow (sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow) off of Keith Richards. So who better to play Captain Jack's brother than the battled scarred guitar god. Even though he had a cameo role the writers gave Keith one of the best lines of the movie (see above). Jack is always worried with saving his own life. Throughout the three films the pirate is willing to make any deal or turn on any friend in order to survive. But, as Captain Teague reminds his brother, survival means very little if you can't live with yourself. That these words come out of the mouth of one of the most notorious partiers in rock history just adds to their meaning.
There are some religious traditions that believe that this life is all you get. There are others faith communities that teach reincarnation, though in each incarnation you come back as a different person or thing. The Christian faith affirms that through Jesus Christ we have access to eternal life. In general this sounds like a good thing, especially when I think about spending eternity with all the people I care about and with God. Then I remember that I also have to spend forever and ever, without end, with myself. Suddenly reincarnation sounds like a brilliant idea.
Learning to live with ourselves is not easy. I have found that it is much easier to forgive someone else than it is myself. I carry around with me all of my mistakes and mess-ups. I can't seem to get rid of them. Or, is it more accurate to say that deep down inside I don't want to let them go? In a weird sort of way hanging onto all of my mistakes and misdeeds is a last act of control in my struggle with God. Sure, God can say I am forgiven, but not until I say so.
Grace may well be the most difficult thing in the world to grasp. It is so easy to understand yet so extremely hard to accept. God is not shy about extending grace to us. The problem is getting over ourselves long enough to receive it. If we do have all of eternity ahead of us, perhaps, maybe, possibly we might need to learn to live with the person we see in the mirror. Grace can help us do that if we just let go. Don't believe me? Just go ask the 60 foot high Keith Richards...if you dare.
Symbols
She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket
She wears a cross around her neck
Yes the hair is from a little boy
and the cross is someone she has not met
not yet
She wears a cross around her neck
Yes the hair is from a little boy
and the cross is someone she has not met
not yet
She Talks to Angels The Black Crowes
She Talks to Angels is not one of my favorite Black Crowes songs, though I am a big fan of the band and their music. However, these lines have always captured my imagination. In case you are not familiar with the song it is about a woman who is a drug addict. The little boy is likely her child, though her connection to him is reduced to a lock of hair she carries around with her. The cross she wears around her neck, at least at this point in her life, is just jewelry. She may not even really know what the cross symbolizes, what it means. If that is the case she is not alone.
When my wife and I lived in Kenya we had a good friend who was a strong opponent of alcohol consumption. Part of his dislike of liquor was rooted in his religious convictions, part in his experience with an alcoholic father. So it took my breath away to see him walk into the office one day wearing a Budweiser t-shirt. I asked him about the shirt. He said it was one of his favorites and that he, like many Kenyans, purchased it at an open-air market. See, many of the clothes that you and I take to places like Goodwill end up in Third World countries. Importers will bring in huge containers of shirts and hat and pants and then sell the clothes to small business owners who sell them on the street. That is how my friend ended up with his Budweiser shirt. They have beer in Kenya, but not the Budweiser brand (not being a fan of Budweiser, or its flavorless sister, Bud Light, this is not a bad thing). So he had no idea what Budweiser was or what the logo on his shirt represented. If you really like irony then you will love the next part of the story. I have a t-shirt I bought in Kenya. It has the picture of an elephant's head and the word "Tusker" on it. People in America think the shirt is really cool (it is). What they don't know is that Tusker is a brand of beer in Kenya (and a much better beer than Budweiser, thank you very much). Seems beer logos are not as universally recognized as advertisers would like. Bummer. World domination is not yet in reach for the great breweries of the world.
There are lots of symbols and logos in the world. Sometimes people know what the symbol/logo represents, sometimes they don't. It is not uncommon for folks to wear something with a symbol or logo on it because, like my friend, they think it looks nice. If they knew the meaning of the symbol, if they understood what the logo represented, I wonder if they would still wear the shirt or hat or piece of jewelry.
The cross is a symbol of the Christian faith. Its meaning is found in the story of Jesus. Two thousand years ago the cross was an instrument of death. People were executed on crosses, hung in public so everyone could watch them suffer and die. So why do Christians wear such a macabre symbol? Because of God's power to transform it. Jesus was hung on a cross but God raised him from the dead. The cross, the symbol of death, became a symbol of life.
That is why I love the lines from She Talks to Angels. The broken, hurting, drug addict wears a cross around her neck. She does not know Jesus or about the power symbolized by the cross. She does not know about the healing and the newness of life that Jesus offers. No, not yet. What the song offers up is hope that one day this woman will meet Jesus. And when she does that cross around her neck will take on a whole new meaning. What great lyrics and what wonderful imagery. May all that is symbolized in the cross - healing, forgiveness, love, life, be yours today. And may you meet the one who makes it all possible, Jesus.
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Brand
In case you missed it the Where-will-LeBron-James-play-next-year media event is over. I have to admit that in any given season I will watch perhaps one quarter of one NBA game. I love sports and am something of a college basketball junkie, but the NBA does nothing for me. Yet I was fascinated by the hype created by and around this young man. Or rather the hype created about the brand, the image, the product known as LeBron James.
Fame and fortune can do strange things to people (or so I am told. I am neither famous or wealthy. But I am, however, willing to give both a try!) Some people don't want it but have to deal with it. Others seek it out, not always aware of how it will alter their lives. I think LeBron James might fall in the latter of the two. Playing basketball, it seems, is a vehicle, a means to create a brand that has made Mr. James extremely rich and able to generate unbelievable media attention. Yet the line between a brand and the real live human being behind the brand can be difficult to maintain. People, even extremely talented basketball players, are not products. The problem is I am not sure the average fan/consumer is capable or willing to make the distinction. I wonder if LeBron James is able to make it as well.
Human beings are created in the image and likeness of God. We are capable of love, compassion, hope, vision, and creativity. We are not, however, God. Humans make mistakes. Lots and lots of mistakes. We need grace and forgiveness and understanding. We tend to extend forgiveness to other humans (and our pets) but not things. Ask Toyota and BP.. I am not in any way shape or form comparing LeBron James to British Petroleum and the disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. What I am saying is that when you turn yourself into a brand you risk losing your humanity. And then other people stop treating you like a human.
Last night there we police officers patrolling James' house. People in Cleveland burned his jersey. Why all of this violence for a basketball player who decided to play for another team? Because the brand that is LeBron James failed Cleveland Cavalier fans. And they are angry about it. Is it right, is it fair? I don't know. As a sports fan I get upset when my team loses (and my children learn colorful new words that you will not find in the Bible). I don't, however, want to go and burn down the houses of the players who failed to win. People makes mistakes and competitive sports is set up so someone wins and someone loses. It's just a game and life goes on.
What Mr. James is going to discover is that by turning himself into a brand, a product, folks are going to treat him like a brand or product. No matter how much money he gives to charity his brand is based on one thing and one thing only - winning. Cleveland fans are upset because they believe that without James they will not win (and that James never won a championship in his seven years in Cleveland). The brand failed to deliver. Brands are not entitled to forgiveness or understanding or compassion. I wonder if LeBron James the brand will miss being treated like LeBron James the person by some fans and most of the media?
Fame and fortune can do strange things to people (or so I am told. I am neither famous or wealthy. But I am, however, willing to give both a try!) Some people don't want it but have to deal with it. Others seek it out, not always aware of how it will alter their lives. I think LeBron James might fall in the latter of the two. Playing basketball, it seems, is a vehicle, a means to create a brand that has made Mr. James extremely rich and able to generate unbelievable media attention. Yet the line between a brand and the real live human being behind the brand can be difficult to maintain. People, even extremely talented basketball players, are not products. The problem is I am not sure the average fan/consumer is capable or willing to make the distinction. I wonder if LeBron James is able to make it as well.
Human beings are created in the image and likeness of God. We are capable of love, compassion, hope, vision, and creativity. We are not, however, God. Humans make mistakes. Lots and lots of mistakes. We need grace and forgiveness and understanding. We tend to extend forgiveness to other humans (and our pets) but not things. Ask Toyota and BP.. I am not in any way shape or form comparing LeBron James to British Petroleum and the disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. What I am saying is that when you turn yourself into a brand you risk losing your humanity. And then other people stop treating you like a human.
Last night there we police officers patrolling James' house. People in Cleveland burned his jersey. Why all of this violence for a basketball player who decided to play for another team? Because the brand that is LeBron James failed Cleveland Cavalier fans. And they are angry about it. Is it right, is it fair? I don't know. As a sports fan I get upset when my team loses (and my children learn colorful new words that you will not find in the Bible). I don't, however, want to go and burn down the houses of the players who failed to win. People makes mistakes and competitive sports is set up so someone wins and someone loses. It's just a game and life goes on.
What Mr. James is going to discover is that by turning himself into a brand, a product, folks are going to treat him like a brand or product. No matter how much money he gives to charity his brand is based on one thing and one thing only - winning. Cleveland fans are upset because they believe that without James they will not win (and that James never won a championship in his seven years in Cleveland). The brand failed to deliver. Brands are not entitled to forgiveness or understanding or compassion. I wonder if LeBron James the brand will miss being treated like LeBron James the person by some fans and most of the media?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Filling in the Blanks
I have been married to my wife for nearly 17 years. Like all good couples we have had our share of spats and disagreements and the occasional knock-down drag-out fight (none of which, I can assure you, were ever my fault). Most of these squabbles have long since faded from my memory but I still remember our first fight after we got married. It was over making the bed. I was right and while my wife never admitted it, she knew I was right as well.
I am not now, never have been, and never plan on being someone who makes my bed. I see no point in it. First off, aside from my immediate family, who is going to see what my bed looks like? Second, making the bed does not impact in any way I can measure the quality of my sleeping experience. Honestly. I sleep just as well whether it is made or unmade. Finally, and this is completely a personal preference, I like a little mess in my world. I am a "pile" person. I have stacks of stuff all over the place and I cannot remember the last time I saw the top of my desk. (I am, however, a freak about keeping the kitchen clean. Go figure.)
Being a "pile" person does not make me disorganized. On the contrary, I knew where things are. Until someone, I'm not naming names but my wife knows who she is, moves my piles (BTW, that was our second big fight, but that is a story for another day).
My significant other is not a "pile" person. She has this weird quirk, this need to have things look neat. Granted, with both of us working and three kids she is not as concerned about things looking tidy as she used to be. But the impulse is still there. Trust me. She is not cured, just in remission.
Back to the fight. We had just returned from our honeymoon and one morning my wife exploded. She was not, she told me, my maid. Did I think that just because we were married that she was going to go around a pick-up after me? No! If I wanted the bed made I was going to have to pitch in and help make it.
My first reaction, being a typically sensitive male, was to fight back. After all I felt ambushed. But in a rare moment of clarity and calmness (one of three I have had in my life) I asked her if she had ever seen me make my bed before me were married. Of course not. I shared with her that I did not expect her to make the bed and I did not need or want a maid. I was just as happy with it unmade.
Stunned silence followed (one of two times that has happened in my marriage). Turns out that my wife's anger had to do with her assuming what I was thinking. Rather than ask me why I did not make the bed she filled in the blanks and came up with the answer herself. I would love to say that I have never been guilty of doing the same thing, but I won't insult your intelligence. If I were a betting man (and I'm not because I always lose when I put money on something) I would wager that almost all of us have made assumptions about other peoples thoughts and feelings and that some of those assumptions have led to unnecessary fights and disagreements.
I will make another bet - we make assumptions not just in our relationships with other people but with God as well. Granted, understanding the mind of God is not easy. So, when something happens, or does not happen, we start filling in the blanks as to why God allowed, or prevented, an event from taking place. There are times when this approach can lead us to praise God but it can also lead us to feeling angry and frustrated.
This, my friends, is why we need each other, why we need faith communities. Over the years I have found that when I am feeling upset with God it is good to go and talk to someone about it. More often than not that person has been able to help me see that my anger is rooted in the assumptions I had been making about what God was thinking. And they have helped me see that there are other ways of understanding the way God works in my life. That is a real gift and it comes from God.
I am not now, never have been, and never plan on being someone who makes my bed. I see no point in it. First off, aside from my immediate family, who is going to see what my bed looks like? Second, making the bed does not impact in any way I can measure the quality of my sleeping experience. Honestly. I sleep just as well whether it is made or unmade. Finally, and this is completely a personal preference, I like a little mess in my world. I am a "pile" person. I have stacks of stuff all over the place and I cannot remember the last time I saw the top of my desk. (I am, however, a freak about keeping the kitchen clean. Go figure.)
Being a "pile" person does not make me disorganized. On the contrary, I knew where things are. Until someone, I'm not naming names but my wife knows who she is, moves my piles (BTW, that was our second big fight, but that is a story for another day).
My significant other is not a "pile" person. She has this weird quirk, this need to have things look neat. Granted, with both of us working and three kids she is not as concerned about things looking tidy as she used to be. But the impulse is still there. Trust me. She is not cured, just in remission.
Back to the fight. We had just returned from our honeymoon and one morning my wife exploded. She was not, she told me, my maid. Did I think that just because we were married that she was going to go around a pick-up after me? No! If I wanted the bed made I was going to have to pitch in and help make it.
My first reaction, being a typically sensitive male, was to fight back. After all I felt ambushed. But in a rare moment of clarity and calmness (one of three I have had in my life) I asked her if she had ever seen me make my bed before me were married. Of course not. I shared with her that I did not expect her to make the bed and I did not need or want a maid. I was just as happy with it unmade.
Stunned silence followed (one of two times that has happened in my marriage). Turns out that my wife's anger had to do with her assuming what I was thinking. Rather than ask me why I did not make the bed she filled in the blanks and came up with the answer herself. I would love to say that I have never been guilty of doing the same thing, but I won't insult your intelligence. If I were a betting man (and I'm not because I always lose when I put money on something) I would wager that almost all of us have made assumptions about other peoples thoughts and feelings and that some of those assumptions have led to unnecessary fights and disagreements.
I will make another bet - we make assumptions not just in our relationships with other people but with God as well. Granted, understanding the mind of God is not easy. So, when something happens, or does not happen, we start filling in the blanks as to why God allowed, or prevented, an event from taking place. There are times when this approach can lead us to praise God but it can also lead us to feeling angry and frustrated.
This, my friends, is why we need each other, why we need faith communities. Over the years I have found that when I am feeling upset with God it is good to go and talk to someone about it. More often than not that person has been able to help me see that my anger is rooted in the assumptions I had been making about what God was thinking. And they have helped me see that there are other ways of understanding the way God works in my life. That is a real gift and it comes from God.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Toys in the Attic
I took my kids to see Toy Story 3 last week (better late than never). In general I believe there should be a constitutional amendment banning sequels. There are a few exceptions (I think The Empire Strikes Back is better than Star Wars) but often each installment, each sequel is exponentially worse than the one before it. In case you need proof I offer up Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and every Highlander flick after the original. Violation of this amendment will result in a loss of citizenship and a year in the studio audience of the Steve Wilkos show. Yeah, I am that serious.
Needless to say I went to Toy Story 3 expecting very little. It was much better than I thought it would be. And yes, I even found some profound theological significance in it (then again, I can find profound theological significance in a stray dog walking down the street). No, Woody is not a stand-in for Jesus, though he does function as a sort of Messiah. Hmmmm, maybe there is something here...Woody as a cowboy Jesus...with a string hanging out of his back...and "Andy" etched into his boot...the possibilities are endless. Perhaps another time.
In case you have not seen Toy Story 3 I won't blow the ending (just remember "The Claw...the Claw) but I will share the relevant parts of the plot. Andy is grown up and headed off to college. His toys are in a box and his Mom tells him he has to decide what to do with them or she will. Andy has not played with his toys for quite sometime but he has a sentimental attachment to them. He opts to take Woody with him to college and puts Rex, the Potato Heads, Buzz, Jessie, Slinky, and the aliens in a garbage bag for storage in the attic. His Mom thinks it is garbage, the toys end up in the trash, then at a daycare/concentration camp for toys, before finding a new home.
Throughout the movie there is a running conversation about what toys are for. Woody thinks he and his friends should go to the attic and wait for Andy to have kids of his own. They are, after all, Andy's toys. Yet toys are meant to be played with and some of the characters believe they need to go to other children who will love them and use them. At the end of the movie Andy makes the difficult decision to let go of his toys, even Woody, and gives them to a little girl who knows how to take care of them.
As I was watching this I was reminded of the box of Star Wars trading cards I have stored away in my house. They probably are not worth much on the open market since my brother and I actually played with them. The value they possess is sentimental. I loved Star Wars as a kid (still do) and I won the whole collection from my younger brother in a game of poker. Yes, I am the older, smarter, better looking brother, but the game was fair. Fair, I tell you. I did not cheat him. He has no proof, no witnesses so don't listen to him when he whines about it.
Why is it that we tend to take that which is most important and most valuable to us and hide it away? Oh, we are generous, but only with the things we don't want. The items we consider junk, that we will give away. You would think that our desire would be to share with others those things that have brought joy and happiness to our lives. Nope. We keep the best for ourselves. Why? What are we afraid of? Losing part of ourselves?
What makes this behaviour really strange is that God, who has more incentive than you and I to hold onto the good stuff (just look at what we have done to God's Gulf of Mexico) freely shares the best God has with us. Think about it for a moment. We, humans, are the only life forms we are aware of for hundreds of millions of light years. We get the sunsets, the blackberries, the joy of children laughing, the touch of a lover. And we get love, straight from the source, God.
So, what do we do with the trinkets and bobbles and trading cards that have meaning for us? We put them in bags or boxes or cabinets so nothing bad happens to them. They are there, for us, when we want them. The rest of the world is out of luck. God must be so very happy, don't you think.
Today I have resolved to go home and let my kids share in the joy of my Star Wars trading cards (BTW, they love Star Wars as much as I do). I know, it is a rather modest gesture. But I hope that it is a step forward in the process of learning to share the good stuff in my life. Who knows, maybe some day I might even be willing to share myself with other people!
Needless to say I went to Toy Story 3 expecting very little. It was much better than I thought it would be. And yes, I even found some profound theological significance in it (then again, I can find profound theological significance in a stray dog walking down the street). No, Woody is not a stand-in for Jesus, though he does function as a sort of Messiah. Hmmmm, maybe there is something here...Woody as a cowboy Jesus...with a string hanging out of his back...and "Andy" etched into his boot...the possibilities are endless. Perhaps another time.
In case you have not seen Toy Story 3 I won't blow the ending (just remember "The Claw...the Claw) but I will share the relevant parts of the plot. Andy is grown up and headed off to college. His toys are in a box and his Mom tells him he has to decide what to do with them or she will. Andy has not played with his toys for quite sometime but he has a sentimental attachment to them. He opts to take Woody with him to college and puts Rex, the Potato Heads, Buzz, Jessie, Slinky, and the aliens in a garbage bag for storage in the attic. His Mom thinks it is garbage, the toys end up in the trash, then at a daycare/concentration camp for toys, before finding a new home.
Throughout the movie there is a running conversation about what toys are for. Woody thinks he and his friends should go to the attic and wait for Andy to have kids of his own. They are, after all, Andy's toys. Yet toys are meant to be played with and some of the characters believe they need to go to other children who will love them and use them. At the end of the movie Andy makes the difficult decision to let go of his toys, even Woody, and gives them to a little girl who knows how to take care of them.
As I was watching this I was reminded of the box of Star Wars trading cards I have stored away in my house. They probably are not worth much on the open market since my brother and I actually played with them. The value they possess is sentimental. I loved Star Wars as a kid (still do) and I won the whole collection from my younger brother in a game of poker. Yes, I am the older, smarter, better looking brother, but the game was fair. Fair, I tell you. I did not cheat him. He has no proof, no witnesses so don't listen to him when he whines about it.
Why is it that we tend to take that which is most important and most valuable to us and hide it away? Oh, we are generous, but only with the things we don't want. The items we consider junk, that we will give away. You would think that our desire would be to share with others those things that have brought joy and happiness to our lives. Nope. We keep the best for ourselves. Why? What are we afraid of? Losing part of ourselves?
What makes this behaviour really strange is that God, who has more incentive than you and I to hold onto the good stuff (just look at what we have done to God's Gulf of Mexico) freely shares the best God has with us. Think about it for a moment. We, humans, are the only life forms we are aware of for hundreds of millions of light years. We get the sunsets, the blackberries, the joy of children laughing, the touch of a lover. And we get love, straight from the source, God.
So, what do we do with the trinkets and bobbles and trading cards that have meaning for us? We put them in bags or boxes or cabinets so nothing bad happens to them. They are there, for us, when we want them. The rest of the world is out of luck. God must be so very happy, don't you think.
Today I have resolved to go home and let my kids share in the joy of my Star Wars trading cards (BTW, they love Star Wars as much as I do). I know, it is a rather modest gesture. But I hope that it is a step forward in the process of learning to share the good stuff in my life. Who knows, maybe some day I might even be willing to share myself with other people!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Waiting, Part 3
N- n- now th- that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
'cause I can't wait much longer
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
'cause I can't wait much longer
"Stronger" Kanye West
When I was around 11 or 12 years old I remember calling the local radio station to make a song request. The DJ answered the phone and I told him what song I wanted him to play. "No problem, " he said. I hung up and sat by my radio eager (yes, even anticipating) to hear the song. I waited, and waited, and waited. Minutes, hours, days passed by and still I did not hear the song. OK, maybe it was just minutes that passed by, but it sure felt like days. After 45 minutes I called back. It is amazing how indignant a pre-teen can be on the phone. "Where is my song," I demanded, sure that my righteous anger would help the DJ see the error of his ways. It was at this moment that I learned two important life lessons: radio DJ's lie, and they can have a tendency to hang up on angry callers.
There may be some of you wondering why this was such a big deal (and why after 30 years I am still talking about it). This event happened before the advent of Itunes and digital music. Yes, you could buy music at the record store, but only if they had it in stock...and you had money. New music came to us via the radio. We heard what the radio station wanted us to hear when they wanted us to hear it. MTV, even when they actually played music videos, was no different.
Now, thanks be to God, the world is different. If I want a song I can download it. Well, sort of. Seems like the Beatles are still bigger than Jesus because downloading their music, legally, is a bit of a problem. However, I have access to almost all the music I want. It does not even have to be produced by a major record label and some artists will even give their songs away. For free! I like free, it is our friend. I also like bands who give away free music. They are our friends as well, even if their music is not very good.
There is a key concept at work here: control. Many consumers, myself included, want control over our lives. I don't like someone telling me when and if I can listen to a song or watch a video or view a movie. I want what I want when I want it. Provided, of course, that I have the money to pay for it. Which takes us back to our dear, dear friend, Mr. Free.
The other day I was in a grocery store and noticed that they were not open 24 hours a day. It shocked me. What if I needed a Twinkie at 2am, what would I do? Wait till the store opened? Absolutely not! I would go to the store that had the good sense to be open at 2am and have Twinkies in stock. It does not matter that I never want a Twinkie at 2am, it's just the idea that this store is telling me I have to wait that bothers me. Its and on-demand world and I am an on-demand girl...er, boy.
So, I am left to wonder if part of my problem with waiting on God has to do with my 21st century consumer mentality. Do I view God as a vendor of goods and services, sort of like a bigger version of Amazon? (did you know that Amazon gives away free music? Over 500 songs. This makes them our special friend!) If I want God then God should be available, ready to deal with whatever issue is on my heart or mind. In short, I want control over my relationship with God. And that, my friends, is the problem. To be a follower of Jesus means that rather than trying to control God I surrender myself to God. When God calls, I answer. When God says move, I go. And if, gasp, God says wait, then I wait, as hard as that may be.
I still believe that God is capable of moving and communicating at speeds that our ancestors never dreamed of. I am convinced that God is active in the world all the time, I only need to look beyond myself to see it. And I think waiting bites! But my desire is to follow Jesus and to serve God. If that means there will be times when I have to wait then I will suck it up and wait. At least I have free music to help me pass the time!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Waiting, Part 2
Anticipation, anticipation
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin'
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin'
"Anticipation" Carly Simon
Way back in the 1970s, Heinz ran a commercial for their ketchup (sorry, the original is not on Youtube. I know, I was also shocked and dismayed) in which it takes almost 30 seconds for the ketchup to leave the bottle and pour out on a hamburger. The point of the commercial was to show that Heinz 57 was not some watered down tomato product but a thick, wholesome ketchup. The good folks at Heinz paid to use singer/songwriter Carly Simon's popular song "Anticipation" in the ad. The waiting, the anticipation of what that burger will taste like smothered in Heinz ketchup, is part of the fun of eating. Or at least that is what the people who produced slow pouring ketchup wanted us to believe back in the day.
Anticipation is supposed to increase our desire and appreciation of a particular event of experience. The logic goes something like this: if we get what we want whenever we want it, then it loses its significance in our lives. But if we have to wait for it (and "it" can be a football game or a date or the birth of a child) then it takes on added value. This way of thinking helped produce the old adage "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" and the use of cliffhanger ending to movies and television shows.
I'm not convinced. I routinely have to wait to see my doctor even though I have an appointment. When I finally get back in the examining room I get to wait some more. Does the anticipation of finally seeing the medical professional I was supposed to meet with thirty minutes ago make me value our time together? No. It makes me ticked off, late for my other appointments and on an endless quest to find a doctor who can keep time!
Do I love my children or wife less because I see them everyday? No. In fact I think our relationship is stronger for all the time we spend together. Do I love food less because I eat every day (a look at my waistline will answer that question for you)? Star Wars is still one of my favorite movies even though I can watch it whenever I wish. Granted, having Christmas every month might get a bit old. There are somethings that we want to be "special" occasions and anticipation plays a useful role in making that happen. But not everything. Not God.
God is at work in the world. Right now. The question is whether I can see it or not. Anticipation is my waiting to see what I want to see; God acting the way I want God to act. Faith is seeing what God is already doing. I can wait a long time for God to do what I want. To catch a glimpse of what God is actively involved in at the moment takes no waiting at all. It does, however, require me to change. More tomorrow.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Waiting, Part 1
The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part
"The Waiting" Tom Petty
The other night I was looking through our DVD's for something to watch and I noticed the gleaming silver tin that contains eight, yes eight Christmas classics. Or at least the box says that all eight are classics. There are a couple that look like fill to me, but the point is its June and I can, if I wish, watch "Frosty the Snowman" or "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." No big deal, right? My kids don't think so. But it is. Oh, this is huge.
Back in December I was having a conversation with a twenty- something Kindergarten teacher. She had just popped in a copy of "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" for the children to watch (the animated version, mind you). In hushed tones we started talking and I mentioned that when I was a kid "The Grinch" and all those other Christmas shows came on once a year (I know, I felt like an old man just uttering the words "when I was a kid"). One time my Dad made us go to a family party and we missed "Rudolph." My siblings and I were devastated. It would be a whole year before we could see it again. But now, now I can watch it whenever I want. I don't have to wait, and neither do my children. This, dear reader, is earth shattering.
We live in an almost instant culture. My email get pushed to my phone so I don't have to wait. So do my Facebook messages and posts. I am connected to the Internet 24/7 (except at camp, which has, on a really good day, poor service). We have movies on demand, all sorts of quick to prepare food and "fast" food restaurants. We wait on very little. Which makes those times when we have to wait very difficult.
For ninety-nine percent of human history this has not been the case. Things happened at a much slower pace. Travel and communication took days and weeks. If food was not in season you had to wait. Waiting, while not easy, was a big part of life. And this spilled over into how people understood God. Waiting on God, while not easy, was also part of life. I was taught this as a child and keep hearing about it as an adult. "God's time is not our time." Jesus hung out in the desert for forty days waiting on God. The Israelites roamed around forty years before entering the promised land. Wait upon the Lord.
Why? Why do I have to wait? I call or text or email anyone, anytime I want. Why do I have to wait to talk to God?
This is, I think, a very important question for our age. Is the idea that we have to wait on God simply a product of a time and place in which people had to wait for everything? Does our understand of God need to change? Is it possible that God can and does communicate and act as fast as our technology? In short, are we done waiting on God?
Ponder this a bit, if you will. I will write more tomorrow (yes, I know, so ironic that I make you wait). In the meantime, if you wish, feel free to share your thoughts below. No rush. I'll wait.
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