Fitting In

As I write this I am sitting in a coffee house drinking, well, coffee.  Ah, coffee.  I did not drink coffee until I was in my late 20s.  Before I met my wife the beverage of choice in the morning was Mt. Dew.  As the day wore on I was open to any soda, but nothing got the day going like some Dew.  Then along comes this woman who drank coffee.  I always liked the smell of coffee, but the taste put me off.  I found this woman who drank coffee very attractive (still do) and she was a much better student than I was (which mattered since we were both in grad school).  So I thought maybe it was time to give coffee a try.  It may impress this lady and who knows, coffee might be the source of her outstanding academic abilities.  I made a point to go out and buy a coffee pot (no small expense for a poor grad student) and to solicit her advice as to what type of coffee I should drink.  And guess what - it worked!  Developing a coffee addiction resulted in this woman marrying me and a greatly improved GPA (as well as kidney stones, but what is life without a few trade-offs). Now I am hooked - on coffee and the woman who, like Eve, led me into temptation. 
I have a number of habits and a few addictions (Cheez Its crackers falling into both categories) most of which I don't recall when I picked them up.  Yet every single one of them started somewhere and most likely began as an attempt to impress someone else.  It is truly amazing the lengths to which I will go to be liked and fit in.  As a child of say 8 or 9 all I wanted was to be selected for our church's youth choir.  The kids in that choir were so cool, got to sing the latest songs and the boys, oh, the boys got to wear lime green polyester leisure suits. At the time I thought that was the end all be all of existence.  What better way to fit in with the "in" group than to wear clothes made out of a fabric that does not breath or exist in nature.  And honestly, nothing says, "please like me" more than a boy who willingly dons lime green.  OK, show choir outfits with all those sequins are a more desperate cry for acceptance, but the leisure suit is a very close second.
I long ago kicked the leisure suit habit.  What I remember from that period of my life was the wanting to be part of the group.  The need to feel accepted and wanted is wired into almost all human beings.  We are social animals who desire community.  Yet, we can also be unbelievably cruel to each other and invent elaborate and creative ways to exclude each one another. The very primal need to be accepted results in us behaving in ways that reject others.  Fascinating creatures, we humans.
I guess that is why for the last two thousand years or so those who call themselves followers of Jesus have struggled to live out our faith.  The gospel is about inclusion, about God opening up the doors and inviting everyone to the table.  No one gets left out, no one is excluded.  This is tremendous news to those of us who have felt unwanted or ignored.  Finally, we are the "in" crowd.  There is only one catch.  As we have been welcomed, just as we are (with or without the lime green leisure suit) so we are to welcome others. Sounds great.  No problem.  Wait, how do we do that?
We give it a shot, make an effort to be open, but old habits die hard.  Soon, those of us who have been blessed by God start making up ways to deny those same blessings to others.  You have to dress a certain way, think a certain way, make a so much money, be married, single, straight, gay, old, young...  Little wonder that some folks look at us, the followers of Jesus, and just shake their heads.
But, here is some good news.  God's love and acceptance, God's gracious invitation to the fullness of life through Jesus Christ is greater than our ability to restrict it.  Every time we put a barrier up, God comes along and knocks it down.  Each time we say "no" to someone God turns around and gives them the best seat in the house.  And each time we mess it up, God looks at us, smiles, and says "Let's try this again.  Everybody is welcome."  Even those of us who don't always get it right are still welcome into the kingdom of God.
If you have been excluded by the church before, take heart.  God has never rescinded your invitation to the party.  For those of us who have excluded others, take heart.  Becoming Christ-like is a long process.  And for all of us, hear the good news.  Through Jesus Christ God has invited each and every one of us to the fullness of life.  Enjoy it, rejoice in it, live it and then, share it with someone else.  No matter who they are, what they dress like, or what kind of beverage their soon-to-be spouse gets them hooked on.

Finding Humanity at the Pool

Summer is upon us and in our house and that means swimming. Our kids are freaks for the pool which means I will be spending copious amounts of time at the pool over the next few months. Which also means I will be spending copious amounts of time looking at the people at the pool. This is not voyeurism, folks. We go to a very popular public pool. On any given day there are a couple hundred people there. Unless I go around with my eyes closed I have no choice but to notice everyone else. I don't mind the crowds, I'm just not sure what to do about what I see.

I am not Mr. Black (which is good since I think he is dead). Most of what passes as fashion escapes me. I have better things to do with my time than sit around critiquing what other people are wearing. Yet, at the pool, I find myself in a heightened state of fashion consciousness. Or perhaps it is more honest to say I am more judgmental of other people. Not just about what they are, or are not, wearing but what kind of humans they are.

Like it or not Hollywood and Madison Avenue have helped to create impressions in my mind about what beauty is. If you are a 5'4" young woman and weigh 120 pounds then feel free to break out the bikini. However, if you are 5'2" and weigh in at 180, well, perhaps a one-piece is in order. Come to think of it go ahead and leave that t-shirt on as well. Oh, and only guys with six-pack abs and buns of steel should brave the Speedo. Otherwise, it is better to conceal than to reveal.

As I walk around the pool (sans Speedo) I'm aware of something else that popular culture has taught me. If you are beautiful on the outside than you must be pretty on the inside. The other side of that coin is that the not-so-good looking people are equally unattractive underneath all the fat and flab. In subtle yet powerful ways we are led to believe that a person's humanity is dependent upon what they look like. At the pool our humanity, or lack thereof, is on full display. Let the judging begin.

There is another way of looking at people at the swimming pool. The Christian faith, my faith, teaches that all people are created in the image and likeness of God. Everyone, regardless of their physical features, is fully human and entitles to be treated with dignity and respect. If this is what I really believe than the pool is a place where I can look around and affirm the humanity of everyone present. It does not matter if a person looks like a super-model or the Governator, if the bikini or Speedo is flattering or not, I can see what God sees - a bunch of people who are wonderfully made and fully human. I think it is going to be a great summer at the pool!

Stewards or Control Freaks

We live in a suburb. A middle-class suburb to be exact. As with any community there are sights and sounds that help you identify where you are. In the suburb, in summer, it is the sight of people working in their yards and the sounds of lawn mowers and weed trimmers. From 8 ish in the morning (don't want to wake the neighbors) till after sunset our subdivision is filled with the roar and hum of lawn care. Keeping the grass and weeds knocked down is a good thing. I for one do not relish the thought of being ambushed by some wild animal lurking in the tall grass when I go to take the trash out. So I have no issue with the mowing per se, it is the trimming that raises some questions. Why do those of us who live in the suburb feel the need to edge and hedge and manicure our lawns? Will something really, really bad happen to us if the grass does not stand at a 90 degree angle to the sidewalk?

My wife and I lived in Kenya for three years. They have grass there, and weeds. They too see the value in not having wild animals stalking them in their own front yards. Their solution is goats. The goats eat the grass in the yard. While they are eating they return to the soil a rich deposit of goat droppings, thus fertilizing the grass. And the best part? When the time comes they eat the goat. Try doing that with your John Deer! (BTW, roasted goat meat is very good). The downside is that goats don't really get into trimming or edging. Thus, the yards lack that suburban manicured feel.

Christians believe that God has made us, humans, stewards of the creation. It's God's world, we have to take care of it. Yet we, humans, have a bad habit of wanting to be the owners of this world rather than stewards. I wonder sometimes, what the suburban obsession with manicured lawns says about our relationship to God. Are we being good (perhaps OCD) stewards of the creation? Or does our attempt to make our yards so neat and orderly reflect a desire to control "our" world? I don't know. Just something to think about. I have to go now, the trimmer is calling.

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:

#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!