I consider myself lucky. Most days I am not afraid to take my kids to the store. They are reasonably well behaved. Sure, they have had theirr moments when, were it not for surveillance cameras, I would have bolted for the car without them. What parent has not felt that way. Yet, 9 times out of 10 I know that we can go to the store and I don't have to worry about being asked to leave because my kids are freaking out the other patrons. That all changes, however, if they get the faintest hint of free samples. Imagine the hoards of Genghis Khan about to plunder, or a plague of locust descending on an open field of wheat, and you get a sense of what my offspring are capable of.
I have no real clue where their approach to free samples comes from. It is not like I starve them at home. We don't deprive them of sweets (though they do have to clean their plate of fruits and veggies to get desert). I have tried to instill in them to value of that which is free. We were walking down the street last fall and some local merchants had hired a DJ to stand on the sidewalk and promote their businesses. When the DJ saw my kids and I coming his way he called us over, asked us our names, and then gave us a $10 gift certificate to the local candy store. To this day, if you ask my children, they will tell you that they only thing in the world better than chocolate is free chocolate. Still, the gusto with which my kids attack free samples goes beyond anything I can take credit for. It is instinctive, primal, and at times a bit scary.
At least their enthusiasm for free samples does not spill over into their being selfish. They each take only one and then move on to their next target. What is interesting to watch is their reaction when there are not enough samples to go around. If there is one sample available, the rules are pretty simple - whoever gets there first wins. Since two-thirds of my children are shut-out it somehow seems fair in their minds. The majority lost out, so time to look for the next free cookie sample. But when there are two samples left, well, three kids and two pieces of cake creates an interesting dynamic. Someone, and the key word here is one, is going to get left out. Misery loves company. None of my kids enjoys being the only one without icing on their face.
It is at these times that something very, very strange happens to my kids. Something that I am not sure how to handle. In the dark days of yesteryear, when I was a lad, watching one of my siblings miss out on a free sample was half the fun. Free piece of candy - great. Free piece of candy while watching your little brother have a meltdown because he did not get one - absolutely priceless. This is the type of behaviour I expect from my kids, only they don't seem all that interested in rubbing salt in an open wound. Don't get me wrong, they know each others buttons and spend countless hours pushing them, but when it comes to free samples they get all...I don't know...compassionate.
When one of my kids misses out on the free sample lottery, the others will often start searching for some other freebie (after they have devoured their free sample, of course). If they find one they call out to their sibling and then, and this is the part that really confuses me, if there are not enough to go around they will let the one who did not get the last sample go first. I am not making this up people. I have seen it with my own eyes. I tell you these kids would never have survived growing up with me as their brother. So how is it that they seem to be doing so well with me as their dad?
Naturally, many of you will want to credit my significant other for any displays of kindness and caring that our children exhibit. While not completely unfounded, this explanation would require you to ignore my wife's own childhood exploits (she has three siblings as well). The stories I could tell (but won't because she reads this blog and I want to sleep in my own bed tonight). Suffice to say she was no angel.
Parenting is an unfathomable mystery. Obviously there are direct connections that can be made between the actions of a parent and the behavior of their child. Yet, some things about raising children are beyond the realm of simple explanation. I am convinced that there is a God for no other reason than my children seem to be able to transcend so many of the issues that plague my own life. They are not perfect, believe me. Still, I watch them and realize that in spite of my own deficiencies they are turning out to be people who embody so much of what I preach about (I know God has to be involved because they never, never, listen to me preach. Ever. Under any circumstances. To be honest, I am at a loss to name a time when they do listen to me...about anything).
So, as bizarre as it may sound, I actually look forward to taking my kids to places where there are free samples. Not only do I get a tasty treat to eat, but I get to bask in the glow of my children being compassionate. Oh, and if there are enough free samples I might not have to make dinner. Sweet.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Fear-fest
Halloween is just around the corner, which is a good thing. My family loves Halloween. We don't go all in like some folks (recreating Nightmare on Elm Street in their front yards) but we do like some age-appropriate decorations. This year we picked up a foam, ready to assemble haunted house. The task of putting this project together fell to my wife, as I am neither artsy or crafty (some day I will tell you about my misadventures with model airplanes). When she finished, with some help from our two youngest kids, I was a bit concerned. Everything seemed askew. Again, since I don't art or craft, I opted to hold my tongue and assume that she knew what she was doing. Which, of course she did, since the whole point of the haunted house was to look dilapidated and broken down.
For some reason our culture assumes that people get scared by things that look off kilter. Perhaps, but truth be told I am not freaked out by things that look messy or not properly centered. No, what sends chills up my spine, what really makes me want my mommy, is neatness. Compulsive, unnatural neatness. Nothing gives off the scent of the unholy like a perfectly organized desk. Or a closet with everything lines up and arranged by color, pattern, and/or season. Or books in perfect alphabetical order...even the children's books and the L.L. Bean catalogues. In a public library it is alright, but in a private home, well, I need to find myself some garlic and a wooden stake. If any of the above situations fits you, I just want you to know that I have nothing but love for you, but I still think you might need an exorcism. And if I splash you with Holy Water, it is nothing personal, okay. I just don't want to become part of the living dead and end up spending my days making my bed and deep cleaning the freezer.
Each off us have things that make us feel afraid. That is part of the fun of Halloween, allowing ourselves to experience fear in a safe, controlled environment. Fear works well for haunted houses, slasher flicks and trick-or-treating. Fear does not, however, have a place in the Christian faith. Unfortunately, some well-intentioned brothers and sisters in the faith don't understand this. They rely on a steady diet of fear in order to convince people to accept Jesus. Just yesterday I was driving on the interstate and on the east side of the road were two large billboard. The first said "If you died today, where would you spend eternity?" and the one a few feet after it read "Hell is real."
Evangelism by fear is not new. People have been doing it for centuries. Sometimes they tell stories about the consequences awaiting sinners, or create elaborate paintings of the eternal suffering in Hades. There are even movies that try to warn you about the chaos that will happen if the Rapture comes and you get left behind. I know, I was forced to watch such a film when I was only 10. I don't think I slept for a week.
There are a number of problems with using fear to encourage people to get right with God, but two really stick out to me. First, anyone with a elementary understanding of psychology will know that fear is a bad motivator for behavior. Sure, you get that initial bust of OMG, but it does not last. And the damage done to people who live under a constant threat of fear is well documented. Jesus preached Good News full of hope and promise and joy and love, not everlasting fear.
But the biggest reason that fear is a horrible tool for evangelism is that it encourages people to approach God for all the wrong reasons. Take our lovely billboards. What is the real point they are trying to convey? If you want to avoid hell, accept Jesus. Where is the focus? On Jesus? No. The center of the universe is you. Any actions you take will be based out of protecting yourself. Evangelism by fear encourages people to be self-centered and self-absorbed. It is all about you. Yet, the Good News that Jesus preached and lived was about turning our attention to God and to others. Our actions are not motivated by fear but gratitude and thanksgiving. We come to God and offer our lives because we are full of joy for all that God has done for us. This is what Jesus came to show us. Every time Jesus reached out to someone it was to bring a positive change to their lives and then, in response, he encouraged them to follow him and serve others. Faith in Jesus frees us from living out of fear. Eternal life is a gift, not a sledgehammer to be used to bludgeon people into submission.
If you are new to the faith, let me encourage you to experience the love and peace that Jesus offers. It is truly liberating! Don't be afraid, for there is nothing to fear. God's love for you is rooted in something deeper and more powerful than fear or death. For that is the whole point of the resurrection, that with love Jesus was able to conquer death. The first word from God was life, and the last word is life. Not fear.
For some reason our culture assumes that people get scared by things that look off kilter. Perhaps, but truth be told I am not freaked out by things that look messy or not properly centered. No, what sends chills up my spine, what really makes me want my mommy, is neatness. Compulsive, unnatural neatness. Nothing gives off the scent of the unholy like a perfectly organized desk. Or a closet with everything lines up and arranged by color, pattern, and/or season. Or books in perfect alphabetical order...even the children's books and the L.L. Bean catalogues. In a public library it is alright, but in a private home, well, I need to find myself some garlic and a wooden stake. If any of the above situations fits you, I just want you to know that I have nothing but love for you, but I still think you might need an exorcism. And if I splash you with Holy Water, it is nothing personal, okay. I just don't want to become part of the living dead and end up spending my days making my bed and deep cleaning the freezer.
Each off us have things that make us feel afraid. That is part of the fun of Halloween, allowing ourselves to experience fear in a safe, controlled environment. Fear works well for haunted houses, slasher flicks and trick-or-treating. Fear does not, however, have a place in the Christian faith. Unfortunately, some well-intentioned brothers and sisters in the faith don't understand this. They rely on a steady diet of fear in order to convince people to accept Jesus. Just yesterday I was driving on the interstate and on the east side of the road were two large billboard. The first said "If you died today, where would you spend eternity?" and the one a few feet after it read "Hell is real."
Evangelism by fear is not new. People have been doing it for centuries. Sometimes they tell stories about the consequences awaiting sinners, or create elaborate paintings of the eternal suffering in Hades. There are even movies that try to warn you about the chaos that will happen if the Rapture comes and you get left behind. I know, I was forced to watch such a film when I was only 10. I don't think I slept for a week.
There are a number of problems with using fear to encourage people to get right with God, but two really stick out to me. First, anyone with a elementary understanding of psychology will know that fear is a bad motivator for behavior. Sure, you get that initial bust of OMG, but it does not last. And the damage done to people who live under a constant threat of fear is well documented. Jesus preached Good News full of hope and promise and joy and love, not everlasting fear.
But the biggest reason that fear is a horrible tool for evangelism is that it encourages people to approach God for all the wrong reasons. Take our lovely billboards. What is the real point they are trying to convey? If you want to avoid hell, accept Jesus. Where is the focus? On Jesus? No. The center of the universe is you. Any actions you take will be based out of protecting yourself. Evangelism by fear encourages people to be self-centered and self-absorbed. It is all about you. Yet, the Good News that Jesus preached and lived was about turning our attention to God and to others. Our actions are not motivated by fear but gratitude and thanksgiving. We come to God and offer our lives because we are full of joy for all that God has done for us. This is what Jesus came to show us. Every time Jesus reached out to someone it was to bring a positive change to their lives and then, in response, he encouraged them to follow him and serve others. Faith in Jesus frees us from living out of fear. Eternal life is a gift, not a sledgehammer to be used to bludgeon people into submission.
If you are new to the faith, let me encourage you to experience the love and peace that Jesus offers. It is truly liberating! Don't be afraid, for there is nothing to fear. God's love for you is rooted in something deeper and more powerful than fear or death. For that is the whole point of the resurrection, that with love Jesus was able to conquer death. The first word from God was life, and the last word is life. Not fear.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
PROD Me
Lets be honest, if you are going to a fast food restaurant you don't expect to get "fresh" food. Sure, the corporations will occasionally run adds saying they use fresh ingredients, but they don't believe it. Neither do we. What we are concerned about is how long the food we are being served as been around. Ever had a french fry that has been sitting under a heat lamp for 45 minutes? Yummy, right! Or how about that sandwich that remembers when Reagan was president? Tasty! We have convinced our brains, and taste buds, that frozen burgers...and fries...and chicken is OK. We just want the food hot and not eligible for Social Security.
Now days they don't make your burger till you order it. However, they have cooked up the meat long before you pulled up to the drive-thru. When I worked for McDonald's it was different (not better, mind you, just different). Back in my fast food days we cooked up sandwiches before you ordered them and then gave them a life-span of ten minutes. That's right, your Fillet-O-Fish had 600 seconds from the time I boxed it up to get on your tray. For those unfortunate sandwiches that were not adopted within the ten minute time limit a fate worse than being eaten awaited - the trash can (the horror, the unspeakable horror!)
Needless to say management did not like food being put in the trash can. Nor did they like customers waiting on their burgers. The powers that be wanted enough food prepared that customers were served quickly (except for you freaks that wanted your sandwich different than everybody else's. It was OK if you waited, and waited, and waited) but not so much that it was being thrown away. No problem, if you are clairvoyant. Unlike more dignified restaurants, where patrons are required to call in advance and tell you they are coming (and then only order what you told them was available), fast food joints never know how many customers they are going to have or when they will show up or what they will want to eat. Thus was born the guessing game known as Production Control, or PROD for short. The poor fool stationed on PROD had the enviable task of, well, controlling food production. This was not for the faint or heart or those with weak constitutions. Many employees knew that PROD was a fast train to nowhere and therefore went out of their way to appear intellectually unworthy of the challenge. Most succeeded. I failed. So much so that my for many years I thought my name was PROD.
The worst thing that you could do on PROD was to get behind. Once you started to run out of food it became very hard to catch back up. To this day I still believe that there was a sign over the counter and at the drive-thru that said "We are currently out of Big Macs so please order 5 more." When you got behind customers smelled blood in the water. I swear, you could have ten hot (not fresh, remember, just hot), ready to eat cheeseburgers and the next five orders would all be for hamburgers. When you got behind the rest of the staff started taking matters in their own hands. It became the restaurant version of the Titanic with everybody scrambling for a seat on the proverbial lifeboat. Front counter workers would start telling the grill crew what to make and those on the grill would start telling you what they were going to make. It could get real ugly real fast.
The key to being on PROD and not ending up in a mental hospital was attitude. You had to appear to be in complete control all of the time. Never let the other workers see you sweat, especially when you were guessing wrong about how much food needed to be produced. As long as the rest of the employees believed you knew what you were doing they would not mutiny. One whiff of fear and it was all over. Confidence was the name of the game. Or maybe it was just the illusion of confidence.
As a person of faith there are times when I feel very confident that God and I are on the same page. No matter what happens that day I know I will be able to handle it. Flat tire at rush hour, please! Cell phone bill arrives and I discover that my child does not understand the meaning of limits on minutes, we can get through this. My wife comes home in a really, really bad mood, well the Lord is my shepherd and we will find a way to those green pastures.
There are, however, times when my confidence melts away, when the trails and temptations seem too much. But I can't let other people see me like this. I am a follower of Jesus, moreover I am an ordained minister. What would folks think about me, about God, if they knew that today I am treading water in a sea of doubt and confusion? So its time for the magic show and the illusion that I have it all under control. But I don't and there are times when I am not sure I ever did.
Some of the best parts of the Bible are when the writers acknowledge before God and the whole world that they are struggling. From the Psalmists all the way through to Jesus, yes Jesus, scripture bears witness to fear, uncertainty, and a complete lack of confidence, but also faith. Faith is not about always being confident and faith is certainly not the illusion of confidence. Rather, faith is what keeps us hanging on when nothing makes sense and we are not sure we will ever figure it out. Faith is something deeper and stronger and more powerful than mere confidence. Faith is a gift from God that comes at those times when we are the least confident.
Slowly I am learning that what is required of me, as a follower of Jesus, is to bear witness to my faith in times of doubt rather than create the illusion that I have it all together. For that illusion prevents other people from seeing God at work in my life.
Now days they don't make your burger till you order it. However, they have cooked up the meat long before you pulled up to the drive-thru. When I worked for McDonald's it was different (not better, mind you, just different). Back in my fast food days we cooked up sandwiches before you ordered them and then gave them a life-span of ten minutes. That's right, your Fillet-O-Fish had 600 seconds from the time I boxed it up to get on your tray. For those unfortunate sandwiches that were not adopted within the ten minute time limit a fate worse than being eaten awaited - the trash can (the horror, the unspeakable horror!)
Needless to say management did not like food being put in the trash can. Nor did they like customers waiting on their burgers. The powers that be wanted enough food prepared that customers were served quickly (except for you freaks that wanted your sandwich different than everybody else's. It was OK if you waited, and waited, and waited) but not so much that it was being thrown away. No problem, if you are clairvoyant. Unlike more dignified restaurants, where patrons are required to call in advance and tell you they are coming (and then only order what you told them was available), fast food joints never know how many customers they are going to have or when they will show up or what they will want to eat. Thus was born the guessing game known as Production Control, or PROD for short. The poor fool stationed on PROD had the enviable task of, well, controlling food production. This was not for the faint or heart or those with weak constitutions. Many employees knew that PROD was a fast train to nowhere and therefore went out of their way to appear intellectually unworthy of the challenge. Most succeeded. I failed. So much so that my for many years I thought my name was PROD.
The worst thing that you could do on PROD was to get behind. Once you started to run out of food it became very hard to catch back up. To this day I still believe that there was a sign over the counter and at the drive-thru that said "We are currently out of Big Macs so please order 5 more." When you got behind customers smelled blood in the water. I swear, you could have ten hot (not fresh, remember, just hot), ready to eat cheeseburgers and the next five orders would all be for hamburgers. When you got behind the rest of the staff started taking matters in their own hands. It became the restaurant version of the Titanic with everybody scrambling for a seat on the proverbial lifeboat. Front counter workers would start telling the grill crew what to make and those on the grill would start telling you what they were going to make. It could get real ugly real fast.
The key to being on PROD and not ending up in a mental hospital was attitude. You had to appear to be in complete control all of the time. Never let the other workers see you sweat, especially when you were guessing wrong about how much food needed to be produced. As long as the rest of the employees believed you knew what you were doing they would not mutiny. One whiff of fear and it was all over. Confidence was the name of the game. Or maybe it was just the illusion of confidence.
As a person of faith there are times when I feel very confident that God and I are on the same page. No matter what happens that day I know I will be able to handle it. Flat tire at rush hour, please! Cell phone bill arrives and I discover that my child does not understand the meaning of limits on minutes, we can get through this. My wife comes home in a really, really bad mood, well the Lord is my shepherd and we will find a way to those green pastures.
There are, however, times when my confidence melts away, when the trails and temptations seem too much. But I can't let other people see me like this. I am a follower of Jesus, moreover I am an ordained minister. What would folks think about me, about God, if they knew that today I am treading water in a sea of doubt and confusion? So its time for the magic show and the illusion that I have it all under control. But I don't and there are times when I am not sure I ever did.
Some of the best parts of the Bible are when the writers acknowledge before God and the whole world that they are struggling. From the Psalmists all the way through to Jesus, yes Jesus, scripture bears witness to fear, uncertainty, and a complete lack of confidence, but also faith. Faith is not about always being confident and faith is certainly not the illusion of confidence. Rather, faith is what keeps us hanging on when nothing makes sense and we are not sure we will ever figure it out. Faith is something deeper and stronger and more powerful than mere confidence. Faith is a gift from God that comes at those times when we are the least confident.
Slowly I am learning that what is required of me, as a follower of Jesus, is to bear witness to my faith in times of doubt rather than create the illusion that I have it all together. For that illusion prevents other people from seeing God at work in my life.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Passion of the Chiefs
For NFL fans August is a month of hope. Unlike baseball, where only a handful of teams really have a shot at winning, in professional football almost every one of the 32 teams starts the season with a legitimate chance. Granted, some team's path to glory is more difficult than others, but fans have hope. This is the year my team will raise the Lombardi Trophy. Let the celebrations begin!
As a devoted fan of the Kansas City Chiefs, reasons to celebrate have been in short supply lately. Over the last two seasons we have aspired to suck. Sometimes we have reached that lofty plateau, but frequently we have wandered in the sub-sucking nether world. Things have been even bleaker for the KC Royals, who have not been to the post-season in 25 years. That's right, a quarter century of futility, disappointment, frustration and failure. At least the Cubs have been to the playoffs. Come to think of it, almost everyone else has been to the playoffs. Ouch.
I am not a casual fan, at least not when it comes to football. I watch or listen to every Chiefs game and have, on a number of occasions, scared my children with my yelling at the radio/TV. Oh, the vocabulary they have learned from me on Sunday afternoons. All three of them are now ready for a stint in the Merchant Marines. Did I mention I was a minister?
I am not sure what compels me to be a fan. Unless you subscribe to the butterfly in the Amazon flapping its wings and making it rain in Kansas theory, then the fortunes of the Chiefs have nothing to do with my support. Sure, the club will get a few bucks every year from the merchandise I purchase and the tickets I buy (once every five years or so I make it to a game. This is one of those years!!!!) My beloved Chiefs win or lose no matter what I do. So, why do I invest so much emotional energy (and this year, so much money into one ticket)? What difference does it make? Why should I let the outcome of a game I have no control over dictate my mood for a whole week? And why, every August, do I hope?
I am not the only one asking these questions. My wife has no clue as to why I get so passionate about Chiefs football. Her uncle presided over our wedding and during his meditation encouraged her to develop an interest in the things I care about, including sports. She loves her uncle but completely ignored his advice (supposedly he said something to me about her interests. At least my wife claims he did. I don't remember any such sage counsel.) On Sunday afternoons she would rather take a nap than listen to Hall of Famer Lenny Dawson do color commentary for the Chiefs. And she generally reserves her screaming and yelling for me (I guess I am her Kansas City Chiefs. Cool.)
I am sure there are some deep seated psychological reasons for being a fan. No doubt I am either working through, or avoiding, some issues in my life via the NFL. So be it. For me, I am content to enjoy being passionate. Its fun to care about things, to share in the successes and failures of those things I attach myself to. The great thing about passion is that there is plenty of it to go around. I am intensely passionate about my kids, my wife, my faith community, and my God. For the record, yes, I have been known to swear like a sailor when I get upset with all of my other passions. That just comes with the territory.
Unlike the Chiefs, however, most of the other things I am passionate about I can participate in. I can make a difference in the life of my kids, my spouse, my community and even God. Sure, being passionate, actively passionate about someone or something will open me up to being hurt. But it is worth it. Life without passion, without caring and loving and yelling and colorful vocabulary is not really life. I would rather suffer through the disappointment of a 4-12 season than not care at all. Of course if the football gods were to bestow upon my Chiefs a 16-0 regular season record and a Super Bowl championship who am I to complain. Hey, it's August. I can hope.
As a devoted fan of the Kansas City Chiefs, reasons to celebrate have been in short supply lately. Over the last two seasons we have aspired to suck. Sometimes we have reached that lofty plateau, but frequently we have wandered in the sub-sucking nether world. Things have been even bleaker for the KC Royals, who have not been to the post-season in 25 years. That's right, a quarter century of futility, disappointment, frustration and failure. At least the Cubs have been to the playoffs. Come to think of it, almost everyone else has been to the playoffs. Ouch.
I am not a casual fan, at least not when it comes to football. I watch or listen to every Chiefs game and have, on a number of occasions, scared my children with my yelling at the radio/TV. Oh, the vocabulary they have learned from me on Sunday afternoons. All three of them are now ready for a stint in the Merchant Marines. Did I mention I was a minister?
I am not sure what compels me to be a fan. Unless you subscribe to the butterfly in the Amazon flapping its wings and making it rain in Kansas theory, then the fortunes of the Chiefs have nothing to do with my support. Sure, the club will get a few bucks every year from the merchandise I purchase and the tickets I buy (once every five years or so I make it to a game. This is one of those years!!!!) My beloved Chiefs win or lose no matter what I do. So, why do I invest so much emotional energy (and this year, so much money into one ticket)? What difference does it make? Why should I let the outcome of a game I have no control over dictate my mood for a whole week? And why, every August, do I hope?
I am not the only one asking these questions. My wife has no clue as to why I get so passionate about Chiefs football. Her uncle presided over our wedding and during his meditation encouraged her to develop an interest in the things I care about, including sports. She loves her uncle but completely ignored his advice (supposedly he said something to me about her interests. At least my wife claims he did. I don't remember any such sage counsel.) On Sunday afternoons she would rather take a nap than listen to Hall of Famer Lenny Dawson do color commentary for the Chiefs. And she generally reserves her screaming and yelling for me (I guess I am her Kansas City Chiefs. Cool.)
I am sure there are some deep seated psychological reasons for being a fan. No doubt I am either working through, or avoiding, some issues in my life via the NFL. So be it. For me, I am content to enjoy being passionate. Its fun to care about things, to share in the successes and failures of those things I attach myself to. The great thing about passion is that there is plenty of it to go around. I am intensely passionate about my kids, my wife, my faith community, and my God. For the record, yes, I have been known to swear like a sailor when I get upset with all of my other passions. That just comes with the territory.
Unlike the Chiefs, however, most of the other things I am passionate about I can participate in. I can make a difference in the life of my kids, my spouse, my community and even God. Sure, being passionate, actively passionate about someone or something will open me up to being hurt. But it is worth it. Life without passion, without caring and loving and yelling and colorful vocabulary is not really life. I would rather suffer through the disappointment of a 4-12 season than not care at all. Of course if the football gods were to bestow upon my Chiefs a 16-0 regular season record and a Super Bowl championship who am I to complain. Hey, it's August. I can hope.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
'76 Pinto
There are a million products in this world that make little or no sense to me. One of them would air fresheners with a new car scent. Supposedly you put this thing in your car and it makes the interior smell like it did the day it landed on the showroom floor. Why a person would want this odor wafting through their car I do not know. I guess my indifference has to do with not owning that many new cars and thus being deprived of their intoxicating aroma. Used cars have their own unique smells (my favorite being 8 year old McDonald's french fries) which, for some reason, Yankee Candle has not tried to replicate. Another reason I have not purchased one of these air fresheners is that some smells you just can't cover up. As proof I humbly offer up the 1976 Ford Pinto.
In case you are not familiar with our friend the Pinto it was, and is, a running (when it runs) joke. The Pinto is famous for all the wrong reasons. Seems the engineers at Ford designed this vehicle in such a way that if it gets hit in a rear-end collision there is a better than decent chance the gas tank will explode. Not cool. I have been in a rear-end collision. It was not in a Pinto, which may help explain why I survived the accident. Like many things in the 70s, including polyester leisure suits, disco, and Stagflation, the Pinto is better left in the past. If you are still driving a '76 Pinto I have some bad news for you - aint no amount of new car scent going to cover up the stench from that death mobile.
There is a great scene in the movie O Brother Where Art Thou. You can see it by clicking the link below
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82_bhD0_Trw
Delmar gets baptized believing that somehow this act will cleanse him of all of the wrong things he has done. A few scenes later the newly redeem Delamr and his friends rob a bank. Delmar treats baptism like one of those new car scented air fresheners, unaware, or unwilling to admit that a broken life that is not healed remains broken. A '76 Pinto is still a '76 Pinto, no matter how new it smells.
The Christian faith boldly proclaims that in and through Jesus Christ we find new life. Baptism is a symbol of that new life, a way to tell the world of our intention to become a follower of Jesus. Through serving others, growing into a relationship with God and taking full advantage of the gift of community our lives are transformed and healed. Discipleship is a process, a life-long journey, not a one-time event. Rather than mask the smell of our past mistakes baptism helps us understand that God is at work redeeming all that we have done. That redemption may take days, weeks, months, years or may even extend well past our own lifetime. Yet God will always find a way to create life. Even from a '76 Pinto (it's called recycling).
Faith is not about covering up or telling ourselves that something old is really new. It is about living life in all of its fullness. I hope that today you may experience a little faith and a whole lot of life. It is so much better than that new car scent. Or a '76 Pinto.
In case you are not familiar with our friend the Pinto it was, and is, a running (when it runs) joke. The Pinto is famous for all the wrong reasons. Seems the engineers at Ford designed this vehicle in such a way that if it gets hit in a rear-end collision there is a better than decent chance the gas tank will explode. Not cool. I have been in a rear-end collision. It was not in a Pinto, which may help explain why I survived the accident. Like many things in the 70s, including polyester leisure suits, disco, and Stagflation, the Pinto is better left in the past. If you are still driving a '76 Pinto I have some bad news for you - aint no amount of new car scent going to cover up the stench from that death mobile.
There is a great scene in the movie O Brother Where Art Thou. You can see it by clicking the link below
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82_bhD0_Trw
Delmar gets baptized believing that somehow this act will cleanse him of all of the wrong things he has done. A few scenes later the newly redeem Delamr and his friends rob a bank. Delmar treats baptism like one of those new car scented air fresheners, unaware, or unwilling to admit that a broken life that is not healed remains broken. A '76 Pinto is still a '76 Pinto, no matter how new it smells.
The Christian faith boldly proclaims that in and through Jesus Christ we find new life. Baptism is a symbol of that new life, a way to tell the world of our intention to become a follower of Jesus. Through serving others, growing into a relationship with God and taking full advantage of the gift of community our lives are transformed and healed. Discipleship is a process, a life-long journey, not a one-time event. Rather than mask the smell of our past mistakes baptism helps us understand that God is at work redeeming all that we have done. That redemption may take days, weeks, months, years or may even extend well past our own lifetime. Yet God will always find a way to create life. Even from a '76 Pinto (it's called recycling).
Faith is not about covering up or telling ourselves that something old is really new. It is about living life in all of its fullness. I hope that today you may experience a little faith and a whole lot of life. It is so much better than that new car scent. Or a '76 Pinto.
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.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
God and Mr. Potato head
So, when you were a kid did you have a Mr./Mrs. Potato Head? I did (it was a Mr. for what it's worth). It was not my favorite childhood toy by any stretch of the imagination. In fact the two things that I found redeeming about the plastic spud was 1) you could hide his parts in his bottom and what young boy doesn't find that funny, and 2) that you could put the pieces in the most bizarre combinations. My siblings and I would put his lips where his ears went, his mouth on top of his head, or his try and place his hat where the eyes belonged. Yes, I know, we needed help. Or more time away from the television. Or both.
Why do I bring this up? Well, sometimes when I think about my own image of God it reminds me of Mr. Potato Head. Over the years I have picked up all sorts of bits and pieces about who and what God is. Through songs, images, films, writings and just talking to other people I have collected these various "God-parts" and then tried to assemble them on this thing I call "God" (who, for the record, is not plastic, shaped like a potato, or has a hinged bottom). I don't try to make God into some bizarre freak, but honestly, some days, God just looks like Mr. Potato Head. Even though the pieces fit, nothing looks right.
Yet, how do I know what God is supposed to look like? With Mr. Potato Head it was easy. He was designed to look like a plastic potato dressed up as a human (and you think I need help. What about the people who came up with this toy in the first place!) God? Well that is a bit more complicated.
This is why I am convinced that we need each other, why faith is not something we were destined to do by ourselves. Community is a place where I can bring my insights and share them with you and you share your what you have learned about God with me. The bigger the community the more "parts" we have to "play" with. Then we work together to put all these "God-pieces" in place. Do faith communities always get the parts in the right place? No. Sometimes our God looks like one really interesting Mr. Potato Head. When that happens we try again. That is why community is such an incredible gift. There is always another opportunity to listen and learn, to figure out who God is and what God looks like.
Why do I bring this up? Well, sometimes when I think about my own image of God it reminds me of Mr. Potato Head. Over the years I have picked up all sorts of bits and pieces about who and what God is. Through songs, images, films, writings and just talking to other people I have collected these various "God-parts" and then tried to assemble them on this thing I call "God" (who, for the record, is not plastic, shaped like a potato, or has a hinged bottom). I don't try to make God into some bizarre freak, but honestly, some days, God just looks like Mr. Potato Head. Even though the pieces fit, nothing looks right.
Yet, how do I know what God is supposed to look like? With Mr. Potato Head it was easy. He was designed to look like a plastic potato dressed up as a human (and you think I need help. What about the people who came up with this toy in the first place!) God? Well that is a bit more complicated.
This is why I am convinced that we need each other, why faith is not something we were destined to do by ourselves. Community is a place where I can bring my insights and share them with you and you share your what you have learned about God with me. The bigger the community the more "parts" we have to "play" with. Then we work together to put all these "God-pieces" in place. Do faith communities always get the parts in the right place? No. Sometimes our God looks like one really interesting Mr. Potato Head. When that happens we try again. That is why community is such an incredible gift. There is always another opportunity to listen and learn, to figure out who God is and what God looks like.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The perfect birthday gift #3
This weekend I celebrated another birthday. For what it's worth I am now 43 years old. What do you do to mark such a momentous occasion? I mean, come on, its hard to get all giddy and excited about middle age. Ponies and balloons really don't light my fire anymore. Someone asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I pondered this question for a while. At first I came up with all the Miss America pageant cliches: world peace, no more wars, an end to childhood hunger. Then I thought no, midlife is nothing without a crisis. What would I want that would ease that growing since of anxiety I have sometimes about getting old (do you realize in 7 years I will qualify for an AARP card!!!) In a flash of self-absorbed brilliance I came up with three perfect gifts.
Gift #3 - A Kitchen for the 24st Century For some reason I liked watching the cartoon "The Jestson's" when I was a kid. I cannot remember a single episode and the plots (assuming there were plots) escape me. What I do recall was the way the characters in the show got their food. They simply walked up to a computer, told it what they wanted, and there it was. As a child growing up in a very poor home the idea of unlimited food was fascinating. As an adult who does the cooking for my family the mere thought of a computer doing all the work is tantalizing. I want one of those machines. I mean, really, really want one.
Food occupies a weird place in my life. I love to eat, though I can be a picky eater. I prefer to do the cooking (a control issue) but can think of a million things I would rather do than be in the kitchen. Having food in the house is a reminder that I am no longer dirt poor, yet I am worried about my weight and try not to keep to much food around (at least not the fatty, sugary kind I really like).
The attraction of a 24th century kitchen, or whatever time period the Jetson's are from, is that I would not have to think about food. When it is time to eat I (control issue, again) would just tell the computer what to make and let the feasting begin. Naturally there would be tons of fruits and veggies which would lead my children to love me even more than they already do. If the meal is not good I get to blame the computer. If the meal is great I am the one who programmed it. No worries, no problems, no thinking. The only issue is whether the purchase of this computer qualifies for free shipping from Amazon. I'm guessing it might. Oh, and whether I can install it myself. I am sure I can't.
Like my time machine, this technological wonder does not exist. Which means I have to continue to think about food. Which means I have to think about where it comes from and how much it costs. Which means I have to think about all the people who don't have any food today, or not enough of it. And that is the real problem. I don't want to think about that. I don't want to remember what it is like to not have food in the kitchen. Or to have to use Food Stamps. Or depend upon grocery bags filled with donated food that other people did not want. Above all, I don't want to think about the powerlessness that comes with poverty. And my guilt that today I have enough to eat while millions of other people don't.
Being a follower of Jesus means I will not ever be able to forget about other people. Being a follower of Jesus also means that instead of feeling guilty I can be filled with hope. I believe the stories about Jesus feeding five-thousand people with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish. I have seen it happen in my own life. I have been witness to more than one instance when people freely shared what little they had and no one walked away hungry. There was no futuristic computer involved, just compassion, love, openness, and willingness to not to forget. So I give thanks for a wonderful birthday gift - the ability to think about food. And the desire to share it with others.Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The perfect birthday gift #2
This weekend I celebrated another birthday. For what it's worth I am now 43 years old. What do you do to mark such a momentous occasion? I mean, come on, its hard to get all giddy and excited about middle age. Ponies and balloons really don't light my fire anymore. Someone asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I pondered this question for a while. At first I came up with all the Miss America pageant cliches: world peace, no more wars, an end to childhood hunger. Then I thought no, midlife is nothing without a crisis. What would I want that would ease that growing since of anxiety I have sometimes about getting old (do you realize in 7 years I will qualify for an AARP card!!!) In a flash of self-absorbed brilliance I came up with three perfect gifts.
Gift #2 - The Return of the Stick
Please! This is not what you think (I'm not that insecure)! This gift is all about restoring a sense of control to my life. It comes in the form of a five-speed stick-shift. It requires that I dump the family mini-van in a body of deep water where no one will ever find it. Ever.
Sure getting kids, and soccer balls, and those fold up chairs all parents take to soccer games, and bags upon bags of groceries is so much easier with sliding side doors and fold-down back seats. But the mini-van cost me, dearly. My first car was a standard. My second car, a standard. When I lived overseas I drove a standard. Fourth car, you guessed it, a standard. When we got the mini-van (around the time of child number 3) I had to trade in my stick-shift. It hurt. There is something about having a five-speed that is so empowering. You feel connected to the car. More importantly, you are in control. No automatic anything here. If that car is going to move from zero to whatever, you, the driver, are going to have to make it happen. I want that feeling again. I want my five-speed stick-shift back.
I know, I know, this sounds so much like a typical response to a mid-life crisis. Feeling unsettled in your life old boy, well just go out and buy yourself a nice little sports car (young secretary optional) and all will be well. Perhaps there is a bit of that going on here. But I am aware that the stick shift is more of a symbol than a real answer. A powerful symbol, but a symbol nonetheless. The real answer is about control in my life and who has it. I want it to be me. I am afraid it is God.
Try as I might I can't make the sun come up tomorrow morning. I do not possess the power to make it rain. Nor can I stop a hurricane or a tornado or a beautiful rainbow from appearing. Even the things I think I am in control of - what clothes I wear, what I eat and where I live, really are out of my hands. I have choices, but not control. God is the only one with real control. My task is to not just accept that fact, but to learn to rejoice in it. Because God is about life. God's will for me is life in all of its fullness. There will be things that happen to and around me that I don't like. But nothing, nothing can prevent life from springing forth from every situation. When Jesus rose from the grave it was proof that even death has to give way to God's desire for life!
So, maybe what I need for my birthday is the resolve to just focus on the choices I have been given each day and give up on trying to control everything. I'll work on it. But it would be easier to do with my hand on that stick-shift!
Gift #2 - The Return of the Stick
Please! This is not what you think (I'm not that insecure)! This gift is all about restoring a sense of control to my life. It comes in the form of a five-speed stick-shift. It requires that I dump the family mini-van in a body of deep water where no one will ever find it. Ever.
Sure getting kids, and soccer balls, and those fold up chairs all parents take to soccer games, and bags upon bags of groceries is so much easier with sliding side doors and fold-down back seats. But the mini-van cost me, dearly. My first car was a standard. My second car, a standard. When I lived overseas I drove a standard. Fourth car, you guessed it, a standard. When we got the mini-van (around the time of child number 3) I had to trade in my stick-shift. It hurt. There is something about having a five-speed that is so empowering. You feel connected to the car. More importantly, you are in control. No automatic anything here. If that car is going to move from zero to whatever, you, the driver, are going to have to make it happen. I want that feeling again. I want my five-speed stick-shift back.
I know, I know, this sounds so much like a typical response to a mid-life crisis. Feeling unsettled in your life old boy, well just go out and buy yourself a nice little sports car (young secretary optional) and all will be well. Perhaps there is a bit of that going on here. But I am aware that the stick shift is more of a symbol than a real answer. A powerful symbol, but a symbol nonetheless. The real answer is about control in my life and who has it. I want it to be me. I am afraid it is God.
Try as I might I can't make the sun come up tomorrow morning. I do not possess the power to make it rain. Nor can I stop a hurricane or a tornado or a beautiful rainbow from appearing. Even the things I think I am in control of - what clothes I wear, what I eat and where I live, really are out of my hands. I have choices, but not control. God is the only one with real control. My task is to not just accept that fact, but to learn to rejoice in it. Because God is about life. God's will for me is life in all of its fullness. There will be things that happen to and around me that I don't like. But nothing, nothing can prevent life from springing forth from every situation. When Jesus rose from the grave it was proof that even death has to give way to God's desire for life!
So, maybe what I need for my birthday is the resolve to just focus on the choices I have been given each day and give up on trying to control everything. I'll work on it. But it would be easier to do with my hand on that stick-shift!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Of Vampires and Love
"Myth: A stake in the heart will kill a vampire.
Truth: Well duh, it will kill anyone."
Kimberly Pauley, Sucks to Be Me
My 13 year old, like many of her peers, really got into the "Twilight" saga. Not being a preteen/teen girl I successfully dodged reading the books (my wife took one for the team in this instance). I was, however, roped into watching the first film with my daughter. Not in the theater, mind you. No, I held off until it came out on DVD. See, in a theater I could not mock the film nor make fun of the "acting." At home I could, and did, fire away. Here was a movie destined to be on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Since that wonderful show is no longer on the air I did what I could to carry on the legacy. Partly because she has outgrown the books, and because sarcasm is my second language, my daughter did not mind the snide comments I made throughout the film. In fact she really enjoyed it. Sadly, that means a date with the second film, "New Moon." Note to self: try not to be so funny next time.
Hollywood loves making monster flicks and audiences enjoy watching them. Americans see so many of these films that we have internalized many of the cliches from the never ending supply of vampire, werewolf, and Frankenstein movies. For instance, we all know, thanks to the silver screen, that to ward off a vampire you use garlic, and the only thing that will kill such an undead creature is a wooden stake through the heart. However, as author Kimberly Pauley so eloquently reminds us, "Well duh, it will kill anyone."
She's right. No matter who you are getting shot with a silver bullet is going to be fatal. Yet we want to believe that there is a magic way to get rid of the monsters in our world. Whether it is holy water or crucifixes, wooden stakes or silver bullets, we hang onto the myth that it takes something special to get rid of evil. It doesn't. The most common things are all we need - compassion, caring, a willingness to stand up and say "no." Oh, and love. Lots of love.
I know, that sounds simplistic, so cliche, too much like the inside of a $.99 Hallmark card. Maybe it is. Perhaps we can't get rid of evil without burning or shooting or stabling it. After all, if it does not bleed and smoke and writhe in pain how can we know that we have killed it.
"Love your enemies," Jesus said. Why? Because love is something that all the evil in the world combined cannot overcome. It is from God, of God, is God. And God has yet to be defeated. So enjoy the vampire/werewolf/swamp creature movies to your hearts content. Just remember the films are pretend. The real monsters of the world are overcome with love. Well, duh!
Lessons from Kindergarten #1
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#1 - Spelling is a Communal Activity
Kindergarten is not the same anymore. Granted, its been a few years, but I vaguely remember that Kindergarten was basically a prep course for elementary school. We might have worked on our alphabet and numbers. Perhaps we even learned a few colors and shapes. But the real focus was on social skills. And naps. The rage in nap time fashion in the 70s were these little rugs that had been made from strips of cloth. Everybody had one. No one wanted to use it. To this day my back hurts just thinking about laying on that rag-rug on the hard floor. Oh to be young and limber again!
Social skills were important because for most of my classmates this was the first time we were thrown in with a bunch of other kids for an extended period of time. So, in order to avoid a potentially chaotic situation in 1st grade we were shipped off to school to learn how to sit, listen, share, sit, and nap.
Today, kids have more experience with being in settings with other kids. Preschools and daycare have cornered the market on basic social skills (except for tattling, but we have already covered that little jewel in the last blog) so now Kindergarten is all about hardcore learning. There are no rugs, no naps. Nope, today the little tykes are expected to walk into 1st grade knowing how to count to at least 100 (by 1s, 2s, 5s, and 10s) and recognize shapes that I did not learn till 3rd grade. ABC's? Forget about it. They are reading, and not just Dick and Jane kiddies books. I swear I saw a kid in my daughter's class browsing through a copy of "Ulysses"!
With reading comes writing. From day one the teacher had the kids do something called Writer's Workshop. They get a special piece of paper on which they are to write a story and then draw a picture about it. In the fall the kids were able to draw better than write. But as the year wore on they had to write longer and more complicated stories. Writing involves one of my least favorite activities in the world - spelling. The kids come up with some wonderful ideas for stories but they don't always know how to spell the words. So they ask the teacher, or me (big, I mean big mistake). Or they ask someone else at their table. This, to me, is the greatest part of Writer's Workshop, watching 5 and 6 year olds try and figure out how to spell. Sometimes one of the kids at the table knows how to spell the word and slowly tells the other child what letters to write down. If no one knows how to spell the word the whole table brainstorms together and comes up with a solution. They don't always get it right, but that is okay. What they are figuring out is that learning new things can be hard. Better to work together than go it alone.
These kids get the point of faith communities (aka Church). Faith is not easy! There are lots of questions and sometimes we struggle to find the answers on our own. But God has given us this incredible gift of community, a bunch of people sitting at our table who can help us figure out the problem. Do faith communities always get the right answer? No, but that is okay. We keep working together, learning together, serving together, loving together. Along the way we learn that faith is not always about the right answer but rather is about being in community with each other and God. Relationships are the answer. And naps, but not on the hard floor.
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#1 - Spelling is a Communal Activity
Kindergarten is not the same anymore. Granted, its been a few years, but I vaguely remember that Kindergarten was basically a prep course for elementary school. We might have worked on our alphabet and numbers. Perhaps we even learned a few colors and shapes. But the real focus was on social skills. And naps. The rage in nap time fashion in the 70s were these little rugs that had been made from strips of cloth. Everybody had one. No one wanted to use it. To this day my back hurts just thinking about laying on that rag-rug on the hard floor. Oh to be young and limber again!
Social skills were important because for most of my classmates this was the first time we were thrown in with a bunch of other kids for an extended period of time. So, in order to avoid a potentially chaotic situation in 1st grade we were shipped off to school to learn how to sit, listen, share, sit, and nap.
Today, kids have more experience with being in settings with other kids. Preschools and daycare have cornered the market on basic social skills (except for tattling, but we have already covered that little jewel in the last blog) so now Kindergarten is all about hardcore learning. There are no rugs, no naps. Nope, today the little tykes are expected to walk into 1st grade knowing how to count to at least 100 (by 1s, 2s, 5s, and 10s) and recognize shapes that I did not learn till 3rd grade. ABC's? Forget about it. They are reading, and not just Dick and Jane kiddies books. I swear I saw a kid in my daughter's class browsing through a copy of "Ulysses"!
With reading comes writing. From day one the teacher had the kids do something called Writer's Workshop. They get a special piece of paper on which they are to write a story and then draw a picture about it. In the fall the kids were able to draw better than write. But as the year wore on they had to write longer and more complicated stories. Writing involves one of my least favorite activities in the world - spelling. The kids come up with some wonderful ideas for stories but they don't always know how to spell the words. So they ask the teacher, or me (big, I mean big mistake). Or they ask someone else at their table. This, to me, is the greatest part of Writer's Workshop, watching 5 and 6 year olds try and figure out how to spell. Sometimes one of the kids at the table knows how to spell the word and slowly tells the other child what letters to write down. If no one knows how to spell the word the whole table brainstorms together and comes up with a solution. They don't always get it right, but that is okay. What they are figuring out is that learning new things can be hard. Better to work together than go it alone.
These kids get the point of faith communities (aka Church). Faith is not easy! There are lots of questions and sometimes we struggle to find the answers on our own. But God has given us this incredible gift of community, a bunch of people sitting at our table who can help us figure out the problem. Do faith communities always get the right answer? No, but that is okay. We keep working together, learning together, serving together, loving together. Along the way we learn that faith is not always about the right answer but rather is about being in community with each other and God. Relationships are the answer. And naps, but not on the hard floor.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Lessons from Kindergarten #2
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#2: It's Not Tattling If I Am the One Doing It
This topic may not seem all that original. If you have spent any time with young children you know that tattling is a fact of life. The sun comes up in the East each morning, the Cubs are never going to win another World Series, and Kindergartners can't resist the temptation to tattle. It's biological. It's hard wired into their psyches. You might have more success turning a lion into a vegetarian than getting kindergartners to not tattle.
What I find fascinating about tattling is not that kids (and adults?!) do it, but that they engage in the behavior in spite of our best efforts to reprogram them. There is a lady in my daughter's elementary school who's job it is to teach kids some of the basics of social interaction. Once a month she comes to my daughter's kindergarten class to work with the children about how to share, not be bullies, protecting themselves from people who would try to hurt them, and the evils of tattling. She is a nice woman and the kids seem to like her. For all I know she is a highly gifted educator, but even I knew that the moment the lesson started it was doomed to complete and utter failure. Cub fans know what I am talking about here. You believe in the cause and you want so badly for it to work, but you can't escape the forces of nature no matter who is on your team. Some things are just doomed from the start of spring training.
If I remember correctly it was a cold January afternoon when the offensive on tattling was launched. The kids formed something resembling a circle on the carpet. I sat off in the distance not sure what to do. I felt like I was about to witness a car wreck. I could not stop the accident from happening, but could not turn away from watching the whole thing go down. The "behavior" teacher started to work with the children about what constituted tattling and what was okay to tell adults. Bottom line, if some property or person was going to be hurt or damaged then you need to tell an adult. Otherwise, it's tattling and you should keep it to yourself. For 30 minutes she spoke to them, went through role plays, and drilled them about tattling. It made sense to me. If I was unclear before the lesson I had a firm grasp on the subject when she was done. In fact I even felt a tinge of hope. Maybe, just maybe this high quality presentation did the trick! I stood up to go to the other side of the room and was met by a sweet young girl who promptly informed me that another child had not washed their hands when they left the bathroom. I asked her if she was tattling and with a completely straight face she told me no. POP went my bubble of hope! Again, Cub fans can grasp my emotion here. It felt like June, when the tradition swoon begins.
Humans have this remarkable capacity to rationalize our own behavior. After all, it's not tattling if I am the one that is doing it. Yet God never gives up on us. With remarkable patience God continues to try and teach us how to treat each other. My initial instinct after talking to the young girl about tattling was to weep for the future, certain that all hope was lost (come on Cubby fans, you know what I am talking about here!) With God hope is never lost. So the little girl didn't get it the first time, or the fifth, on three hundred and fifty-sixth. Someday it might click for her which is more than enough reason to continue to try and teach the lesson. So, I raise a toast to all of us who try, and try, and try to teach kindness, compassion, understanding, and love. It is the work of God. And for Cub fans, all I can say is there is always next season...and the next...and the next...
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#2: It's Not Tattling If I Am the One Doing It
This topic may not seem all that original. If you have spent any time with young children you know that tattling is a fact of life. The sun comes up in the East each morning, the Cubs are never going to win another World Series, and Kindergartners can't resist the temptation to tattle. It's biological. It's hard wired into their psyches. You might have more success turning a lion into a vegetarian than getting kindergartners to not tattle.
What I find fascinating about tattling is not that kids (and adults?!) do it, but that they engage in the behavior in spite of our best efforts to reprogram them. There is a lady in my daughter's elementary school who's job it is to teach kids some of the basics of social interaction. Once a month she comes to my daughter's kindergarten class to work with the children about how to share, not be bullies, protecting themselves from people who would try to hurt them, and the evils of tattling. She is a nice woman and the kids seem to like her. For all I know she is a highly gifted educator, but even I knew that the moment the lesson started it was doomed to complete and utter failure. Cub fans know what I am talking about here. You believe in the cause and you want so badly for it to work, but you can't escape the forces of nature no matter who is on your team. Some things are just doomed from the start of spring training.
If I remember correctly it was a cold January afternoon when the offensive on tattling was launched. The kids formed something resembling a circle on the carpet. I sat off in the distance not sure what to do. I felt like I was about to witness a car wreck. I could not stop the accident from happening, but could not turn away from watching the whole thing go down. The "behavior" teacher started to work with the children about what constituted tattling and what was okay to tell adults. Bottom line, if some property or person was going to be hurt or damaged then you need to tell an adult. Otherwise, it's tattling and you should keep it to yourself. For 30 minutes she spoke to them, went through role plays, and drilled them about tattling. It made sense to me. If I was unclear before the lesson I had a firm grasp on the subject when she was done. In fact I even felt a tinge of hope. Maybe, just maybe this high quality presentation did the trick! I stood up to go to the other side of the room and was met by a sweet young girl who promptly informed me that another child had not washed their hands when they left the bathroom. I asked her if she was tattling and with a completely straight face she told me no. POP went my bubble of hope! Again, Cub fans can grasp my emotion here. It felt like June, when the tradition swoon begins.
Humans have this remarkable capacity to rationalize our own behavior. After all, it's not tattling if I am the one that is doing it. Yet God never gives up on us. With remarkable patience God continues to try and teach us how to treat each other. My initial instinct after talking to the young girl about tattling was to weep for the future, certain that all hope was lost (come on Cubby fans, you know what I am talking about here!) With God hope is never lost. So the little girl didn't get it the first time, or the fifth, on three hundred and fifty-sixth. Someday it might click for her which is more than enough reason to continue to try and teach the lesson. So, I raise a toast to all of us who try, and try, and try to teach kindness, compassion, understanding, and love. It is the work of God. And for Cub fans, all I can say is there is always next season...and the next...and the next...
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Lessons from Kindergarten #3
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#3 It's Soooooo Cool to Have Your Name Picked!
In my daughter's Kindergarten class there are certain "jobs" that the children get to do. These include taking the attendance sheet to the office; leading the Pledge of Allegiance; deciding what the weather is like outside and then filling in the weather chart. There are also several tasks in which the kids get to use the pointer (who doesn't love that feeling of authority that comes when you get to use a stick and point to things). While the chosen one is pointing out words on the wall the other children sing the song that goes with the list - Days of the Week, Months of the Year, Money.
None of these tasks are all that glamorous. They take a minute or so and everybody gets a chance to do it. Yet the kids look forward to having their name called. They may not hear another thing the teacher says all day but you can bet when their name is chosen they are quick to jump up and get to work. I have yet to hear one child complain about being called on. Nor have any of them thought to ask the teacher why she does not take the attendance to the office herself. I guess that response comes in middle school. In Kindergarten, being called on to help is cool. Really cool.
Somewhere between Kindergarten and middle school helping out loses it luster (I am guessing around 5th grade, but that just may be my own long, painful experience with my oldest child when she was in that grade). Instead of being cool and exciting, helping becomes a chore. Some kids will outgrow this and regain some passion for helping. Others will only agree to help out if the task is important enough and they get recognized for their efforts. Sadly, there is a group that never, ever want to do anything for anyone but themselves.
I often wonder how frustrating this must be for God. Each day are names are called out and we are given the opportunity, no, the privilege to help out. We get to say a kind word to someone who is down, hold the hand of someone who is grieving, or share a meal with someone who is hungry. How many of us jump up when the chance comes, eager and willing to help out? Do we look forward to hearing our name called? Or do we pretend that God is not talking to us? Imagine what kind of a world we might live in if we all acted like Kindergartners?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#3 It's Soooooo Cool to Have Your Name Picked!
In my daughter's Kindergarten class there are certain "jobs" that the children get to do. These include taking the attendance sheet to the office; leading the Pledge of Allegiance; deciding what the weather is like outside and then filling in the weather chart. There are also several tasks in which the kids get to use the pointer (who doesn't love that feeling of authority that comes when you get to use a stick and point to things). While the chosen one is pointing out words on the wall the other children sing the song that goes with the list - Days of the Week, Months of the Year, Money.
None of these tasks are all that glamorous. They take a minute or so and everybody gets a chance to do it. Yet the kids look forward to having their name called. They may not hear another thing the teacher says all day but you can bet when their name is chosen they are quick to jump up and get to work. I have yet to hear one child complain about being called on. Nor have any of them thought to ask the teacher why she does not take the attendance to the office herself. I guess that response comes in middle school. In Kindergarten, being called on to help is cool. Really cool.
Somewhere between Kindergarten and middle school helping out loses it luster (I am guessing around 5th grade, but that just may be my own long, painful experience with my oldest child when she was in that grade). Instead of being cool and exciting, helping becomes a chore. Some kids will outgrow this and regain some passion for helping. Others will only agree to help out if the task is important enough and they get recognized for their efforts. Sadly, there is a group that never, ever want to do anything for anyone but themselves.
I often wonder how frustrating this must be for God. Each day are names are called out and we are given the opportunity, no, the privilege to help out. We get to say a kind word to someone who is down, hold the hand of someone who is grieving, or share a meal with someone who is hungry. How many of us jump up when the chance comes, eager and willing to help out? Do we look forward to hearing our name called? Or do we pretend that God is not talking to us? Imagine what kind of a world we might live in if we all acted like Kindergartners?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Lessons From Kindergarten #4
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#4 There Are Some Things You Just Gotta Tell the Teacher About
I mentioned in an earlier blog that there is a general routine in my daughter's class. The most consistent part of that routine takes place shortly after the kids arrive. They all go over to a carpeted area, try their best to sit on their bottoms and go through a series of activities. These include singing songs about the days of the week and what the weather is like outside. Heck, they even have a little ditty about money (quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies...as if pennies are really worth anything nowadays). Then the teacher reads them two or three books. It is by far the most predictable part of the day. I love it, in part because I get to sit in one of those tiny little chairs and watch how the kids interact with each other and to the story. I would love it more if my daughter would stop sitting with her back towards me so I can't see what she is doing. I can't prove that she is stonewalling me on purpose, but knowing this kid, its all premeditated. Oh, she knows what she is doing, alright!
My absolute favorite part of what I call "Carpet Time" comes towards the end. The teacher looks out at the kids, most of whom have their hands so far up in the air that I swear they are going to pull something, and calls on five. Just five. Its a real bummer if you are number six, but hey there is always Monday's "Carpet Time." The five don't have to answer any questions. They are free to share whatever is on their minds, hearts, or sleeves. When this sharing time comes some of the kids look like they are about to burst. They just have to tell the teacher that they are going to Grandma's for a sleepover, or that it is their brother's birthday, or that their dog peed on the carpet yesterday. The highlight was the kid who told the teacher they had thrown-up three times the night before, obviously forgetting that Mommy and/or Daddy told them to lay low about the puke-a-thon since they were not supposed to be in school. Poor kid was sent to the nurse's office so fast they had no idea what was happening to them.
What is so impressive about this is not just that the teacher listens to the kids (and she does) but that she has makes the time/space for them to share. She understands that kids need to tell someone about what is going in their world. Now, I may not see what is so important about Fido relieving himself on the Living Room carpet, but it mattered to the child. Adults are no different than kids in this respect. We all need safe space where we can unload the stuff we are carrying around.
This what makes community so important. Sure, anyone can believe in God. But if faith is something we do by ourselves then we miss out on the gift of community. True Christian community is safe space where we can bring all of our joys and sorrows and know that there are people who want to listen. And the best part... if you are number six you still get to share!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Lessons From Kindergarten #5
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with a two year old who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#5 Raise Your Hand, Even If you Don't Know What the Question Is
I have taught at the university level before. In my class there is a certain pattern. I ask the class a question, they wait to hear the question, those that actually listened to my question might raise their hand to answer, if not I call on some unlucky victim. Its all so civilized.
I have not taught Kindergarten before. There are reasons for this. Many, many reasons. One is that the whole question/answer dynamic is messed up. In my daughter's class, the teacher starts to ask a question and, I kind you not, before she is three words into the question half the class has their hands up. They have no idea what the question is and even less of a clue about the answer. In fact, I am convinced that as soon as their hands go up their ears shut down. It must have something to do with blood pressure levels, but the hand/ear coordination is tied into how high in the air their hands are. The bigger the reach towards the sky, the less likely they are to listen.
The real fun begins after the teacher finishes asking the question. At a minimum the first five answers are wrong. Dead wrong. That is assuming they have an answer. It is not unusual for a child to get called on and have absolutely nothing to say. These are the kids that have not learned to wing it...yet. They did not hear the question and thus have no idea what the answer is or should be.
For the first nine months of school I found this very frustrating. Then it dawned on me that answering the question, while nice, is not the goal. No, the real objective is to get called on, to be recognized by the teacher. Getting the answer right when you are called on is icing on the cake, the cherry on top, but not at all essential. Why? Because even if they get the answer wrong they have learned that there is no punishment and that the teacher will call on them next time.
Even as adults we continue to crave this kind of recognition. Yet we live in a society where it seems like you only get noticed if you get the answer right (or really wrong, in which case law enforcement gets involved. Not fun.) Now, lets be clear, I like it when I get the right answer to the question. I really like it when my students get the correct answer. Any I really, really, really love it when they get the right answer to the question I actually asked. And I think that God likes it when we get it right as well. Yet, even when we get it wrong God still loves to call on us, to say our name, to let us know that we are alive and that we matter. That is the attitude that we seek to emulate as people of faith. In our communities we strive to value people for who they are, right or wrong (though we try to help folks get it right). We work hard at finding ways to call on people and to just celebrate that they took the time to raise their hands. Because sometimes it is more important to be recognized than to be right.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Lessons From Kindergarten #6
Things I Learned in Kindergarten...well, actually the title should be "Things I Learned While Working in My Daughter's Kindergarten Class on Friday Afternoons," but honestly, that really doesn't roll off the tongue does it?
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with two year-olds who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#6 There is a routine - it must be followed!
I learned in grad school that young children are concrete thinkers. Was that ever an understatement! There is a general routine in my daughter's class - note the use of the word general. In the minds of many of these 5 and 6 year-olds, however, this routine came down from the mountain with Moses, is engraved in massive stone tablets, and therefore must not be altered. Woe to the one who tries to change the routine! Some of these wonderful children absolutely freak out if the routine is changed. They don't know what to do. A few of them even feel a burning need to remind the teacher that this is not how things are supposed to happen, oblivious to the fact that she is the one who made up the routine in the first place. The look on their faces when they confront her reminds me of Bruce Willis in "Die Hard," a combination of fear and steely resolve to stop the bad guy who altered the routine and return the world to normalcy.
There is an exception - recess. The mere mention of this word brings cheers of joy and banishes any thoughts of routine. Who cares about the routine when you can go outside and play. All hail recess!
Routine is not a bad thing and there is value in having some predictability in life. Yet, faith is not a routine. The point of faith in Jesus is not so we can do the same things, the same way, over and over again. Faith is the celebration of the God who breaks into our lives with that magic word -recess. Recess from being alone, jealous, in pain, self-centered, lost. We are free to go out and care about other people, to let them care about us, to give without fear of losing, to enjoy this beautiful world we live in, to truly be loved.
What is amazing to me is how often we defend the routine and are willing to argue with others that fear, suffering, and self-preservation are the way things have to be. Yet we long for, hope for, need some one to tell us to forget about the routine and that it is time for recess. Know what - that is what Jesus did! So forget about the routine. Enjoy recess. It is a gift from God.
Jesus was big on children and believed that they had some special insights about faith. Overlooking the fact that Jesus did not have kids, and thus was spared changing dirty diapers and dealing with two year-olds who have just learned the word "no," let assume he was right. I have put my keen intellect to the task and come up with several "insights" about faith that I discovered while working in my daughter's Kindergarten class. Here we go:
#6 There is a routine - it must be followed!
I learned in grad school that young children are concrete thinkers. Was that ever an understatement! There is a general routine in my daughter's class - note the use of the word general. In the minds of many of these 5 and 6 year-olds, however, this routine came down from the mountain with Moses, is engraved in massive stone tablets, and therefore must not be altered. Woe to the one who tries to change the routine! Some of these wonderful children absolutely freak out if the routine is changed. They don't know what to do. A few of them even feel a burning need to remind the teacher that this is not how things are supposed to happen, oblivious to the fact that she is the one who made up the routine in the first place. The look on their faces when they confront her reminds me of Bruce Willis in "Die Hard," a combination of fear and steely resolve to stop the bad guy who altered the routine and return the world to normalcy.
There is an exception - recess. The mere mention of this word brings cheers of joy and banishes any thoughts of routine. Who cares about the routine when you can go outside and play. All hail recess!
Routine is not a bad thing and there is value in having some predictability in life. Yet, faith is not a routine. The point of faith in Jesus is not so we can do the same things, the same way, over and over again. Faith is the celebration of the God who breaks into our lives with that magic word -recess. Recess from being alone, jealous, in pain, self-centered, lost. We are free to go out and care about other people, to let them care about us, to give without fear of losing, to enjoy this beautiful world we live in, to truly be loved.
What is amazing to me is how often we defend the routine and are willing to argue with others that fear, suffering, and self-preservation are the way things have to be. Yet we long for, hope for, need some one to tell us to forget about the routine and that it is time for recess. Know what - that is what Jesus did! So forget about the routine. Enjoy recess. It is a gift from God.
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