Wait...What?

It's Advent. At Candler, we have been “doing” all of advent in this one week. Each service has been very meaningful and I guess it makes sense to go all the way through it (celebrate all 4 weeks in 4 days) this last week of class, but there is something strangely ironic about that (as a friend of mine pointed out).

Advent is a time of preparation, expectation, and waiting. Waiting has been the key word of the week. I've heard it in almost every prayer, song, and message the past three days. It is clearly being presented as a central characteristic of the season of Advent. But what part of waiting lets us cram 4 weeks of expectation into 4 days? The word advent itself means arrival, which only complicates this more. Is advent really about waiting, or is it about arriving? Or can we somehow hold both of these things together in harmony?

On top of this, it is Christmas, at least as far as culture is concerned. In fact, it would seem that we are already about half-way through Christmas. There is no waiting for Christmas in America. We necessarily cope with a temporal existence, but we do everything we can to overcome that when Christmas approaches each year, forcefully making this holiday arrive ever sooner.

Drew this in paint a long time ago.

Waiting. The only other time I have ever heard this word preached so passionately was in sex-ed in middle and high school. In that context it was abstinence that meant waiting and maybe even “saving” yourself. I don't think I need to highlight the religious connotation there. But the fact that waiting or abstaining was harped on so much betrays the fact that we are people who cannot stand to wait.

And who can blame us? Why wait for something that is allegedly so good, so pleasant? It's not like we can't wait to go kill someone; we can't wait for Christmas – the conception and birth of God in this world, not to mention the jolly and holly and family and gifts. Even when we remove the cultural 'aberrations' of Christmas (i.e. materiality, uninhibited consumption, selfish fulfillment) we still can't wait, and we still can't wait for something good – the celebration of the miracle of Incarnation, of God fully participating in humanity.

So, why wait? We shouldn't be desiring to forestall that long expected day when Christ comes/returns, right? I agree. It's Advent; it is Arriving. We shouldn't be waiting for God's Kingdom to magically pop up. We shouldn't be sitting in apathy waiting for God to do something. Heck, God already has. We aren't waiting for the Incarnation all over again. That happened. Humanity had to wait for that once, but we can't now. God has come; God's Kingdom has been set in motion. If anything, we desperately need to be playing catch-up.

Similarly, we do not wait for some rocket to come and take us off to a better place. We live in a world that has already been (physically) touched by the divine, the Kingdom is here, there is no more waiting for that. Instead, there is action, there is joining in the activity of that Kingdom without hesitancy. We are called to drop our nets and plows without looking back and immediately follow (at least most of the time).

So, what do we wait for? Or, maybe the better question is what don't we wait for (that we should be waiting for)? We (should) wait for God. The previous position essentially asserts the same thing, but where this differs is that we wait for God's guidance. Instead of taking and consuming forcefully and uninhibitedly, maybe we should wait and listen for where God is leading us. Maybe we should stop raping Christmas to see what we can get out of it - to force that height of sensory pleasure into the illusive present. Maybe this waiting is a little like abstinence, where we first cultivate a meaningful relationship with the one we love, listening with reverence and laughing with joy in that one's presence. I think this is the only way we can truly fulfill the not-waiting we need to be doing in joining in God's ongoing activity.

Wait, like the Magi, who were finally guided by the star into the presence of Christ. This waiting cuts through the busyness of our lives, especially at this season, and allows us time to peer into the heavens to see where God wants us to go.

I think John the Baptist is the perfect example of this, and that it is no coincidence that he is the quintessential figure of Advent, in my humble opinion. Baby Jesus can, and must, have center stage at Christmas, but however much we anticipate Jesus, John must have (a share in) the spotlight in Advent (if for no other reason than John was alive at that point, while Jesus was still a weird alien/frog looking clump of cells in Mary's womb). (Although I am fully aware that John would probably deny such a focus on himself, which is even more reason to exemplify him at this time of year.)

John shows us what it means to wait – to live a transformed life now while ever looking for (and finding) Jesus. He shows us what it means to have feet rooted in the sacred running river waters of repentance, consenting to the commands of Christ and opening an avenue for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit - all while reveling in the presence of God (Matthew 3). John wasn't apathetic – he was at work preparing the way of the Lord; nor was he busied or forceful (although some of his language may have come across a little forcefully) – he was receptive to Christ. He knew that we should be doing something, but that that something should be filling us with expectation that opens us to the presence of Christ (Luke 3:10-16).

Maybe instead of trying to force ourselves into Christmas and Christmas into our already busy lives, we should let the Holy Spirit clear our threshing floors and gather our hearts and minds like grain into the already come kingdom and presence of Christ. Advent is not about impregnating Mary or rebirthing Jesus over and over again – it is about participating in His already completed Incarnation, baptizing our expectant eyes and ears to be more receptive to Christ's commands, and going and doing what we must for the further expression of God's Kingdom.

What is more exciting than such waiting?

My favorite Advent song:

Bed Intruder: The Genesis

In my short time at Candler, I have already learned a lot and covered a lot of theological ground.  In the past couple of weeks, we have specifically been focusing on Genesis 34 in one of my classes.  This is one of the Bible's "difficult texts" in that it narrates a story about Dinah, Jacob's daughter, who is raped by a Canaanite named Shechem.  Shechem proceeds to try to negotiate a marriage with Dinah, but through deceit, Jacob's sons eventually kill Shechem and the men of his city.  There are many difficulties in this text, and you can read the full version here.

As we have been discussing this text, I could not help but think of the ever popular "Bed Intruder Song" on YouTube, which I took as divine revelation.

So, I have harmonized these two stories in a way that I believe sheds greater light on both.  (And trust me, it will make more sense to read/watch these things first, before my video)

Without further ado, I present Bed Intruder: The Genesis.

Backyard

Earlier this week I went for a walk. It was part of an assignment for a class, in which I was required to rest and reflect on various aspects of my life and the class. I was very excited to do this and knew immediately that I would take a walk through some trails that run through and between two parks just on the other side of my apartment complex. It proved to be both exciting and meaningful. As requested for the class, I journaled about it, which I would like to share here as well:

I went for a walk today. I started out unsure. I had only walked the trail one time before, and that only halfway. I was nervous – what if I am not supposed to be here? what if the trail is blocked off? But I went on anyway. The cool dirt spilled onto my sandaled feet with my first hesitant step, reassuring me that it is okay to go here, to go somewhere unfamiliar. It reminded me I will always be close – I can never stray too far from earth as I can never stray too far from God.

I continued on the trail, but I don't like to stay on the trail – that's just boring. So, I deviated and went somewhere really new. This is when I became really invigorated. The new exploration gave me new life. It was exciting and life giving. I breathed in the fresh air in deep gulps and felt the warmth of the sunlight gently blanketing the trees and me. I tested the bounds of my daring by continuing to push into uncharted territory.

I eventually made my way back to the big trail and carried on the way I had planned. I stopped following the rigid train tracks and merged into the path of the winding, meandering river. I was not concerned about a destination. I was not concerned about a deadline – and that was truly freeing for my spirit.

I wound up in a park with a lot of baseball fields and heard the joy of carefree children and the gentle, kind coaching of loving parents. It did leave me feeling disconnected from 'the world' as I left, though. I overheard parents talking about their lives and realized I do not share their experiences or concerns.

But I did meet a friendly cat who gladly welcomed my presence.

I thought I needed to be still to really find rest, but I found out, through this, once again that "there's a movement in our stillness and however much we move we're bound to stand completely still."  I did not intend to walk this much, but I found rest in it. I have been entrapped lately in stationary, still places where I have been forced or forced myself to follow an agenda and get things done. I've had to be productive and efficient. But out here, among the trees, the squirrels, the birds, and the dirt, (and the cats), I was free to just be. To be free. To be an explorer discovering beauty, discovering God in every step.

I am comfortable in my own shoes, but I am growing more comfortable taking those shoes to new places and even sometimes taking them off and in freeness finding rest.

This is my backyard now - a place full of new, but strangely familiar experiences and beauty.  The dirt is the same, the trees are the same (except there are more of them), but somehow I am able to constantly experience them anew each time I plunge in and in each not-quite-so-new-anymore place I live.  Here I am uncertain, but empowered; convicted, but comforted; stretched, but reassured.  And that is what makes it all so exciting.

The Art of Drumming: a beat philosophy

In Candler's curriculum, all first year MDiv students are required to enroll in Contextual Education I. This aspect of the curriculum involves a placement at a local clinical or social ministry setting. I have the honor and joy of being placed at the United Methodist Children's Home for the remainder of this school year.

I am still discerning my role at the UMCH, and I am sure that this opportunity will provide me with many interesting stories to tell (as far as confidentiality will allow), but in the past two weeks of being a part of the ministry, I have already found a niche that seems to be a very common one in my life.

I am the drummer for the worship service.

I have never considered myself to be a very good set drummer, but what I lack in skill I make up for in willingness. I have grown used to the fact that I am for some reason constantly offered such a position, yet I am glad that it has been so easy to find why and how God has given me this gift of percussion and the opportunities to hone what skills I have.

I have been a percussionist for 11+ years now – half my life. I have been around drums too much. Yesterday on the bus I imagined what I would say to someone if I was telling him or her how to play. In doing so, I finally stopped and thought about what it really means to drum, what makes drumming music, and what makes drumming more than music. Here's what I came up with:

1. Drums are meant to be hit. Some things aren't (i.e. (most) people, cement, thorny plants, stuff I am holding etc.), but drums are. This requires a sense of solidity or confidence in the musician. Percussion literally means striking one thing with another – meeting it head on, not trying to divert or avoid. One who drums must have a solid stance or foundation, not unlike earthbending. Drums require those who approach them to be firm in conviction, even if all that involves is hitting one note.

2. This being said, it is not the musician who makes the sound. The noise from a drum comes from the surface vibrating and the stick making contact. This is made possible through the process of a transfer of energy that the musician provides to enable to drum to make noise itself. Therefore, whatever energy one puts into the drum is what one will get back from it. Although the drum constructs the sound, it can do nothing without the musician's transferring of life – both parties are equally responsible for the music.

3. Drumming is not all about rhythm, but if you don't have that, you don't really have drumming. Rhythm is about making use of space – not completely filling it in, but finding the perfect balance of action and rest. A drummer must find the right rhythm and hold to it unswervingly.

4. The true voice of a drum is its resonance. Any surface will make a noise when it is hit (even people, cement, etc.), but beautiful noise is produced when the sound is captured, embraced, and allowed to grow organically. A drum truly sings when that naturally beautiful noise is magnified and resounds in joy or despair, excitement or solemnity, power or surrender.

The true beauty of drumming is not how fast you can pump the double bass or how reefed you can play paradiddles, not how loud you can crash a symbol or how many singles you can squeeze into a minute, not how tight you can buzz a roll or how metronomic you can keep a beat. The true beauty is found in the bringing to life of a hollow shell of a thing (awakening its potential), giving it the ability to speak it's true voice, and bringing that voice, that sound, into harmony with the body of instruments which rejoice together in one great, complete song.

P.S. There are countless other amazing videos I could have posted as there are many drummers who I think know more about drumming than mere mechanical skill.  Nevertheless, I figure most people don't even have enough time to watch all the videos I did include.  The internet is your playground, though, and I do not doubt you can find other great examples yourself.

A first impression

School has started. I am for real a student again. I no longer have to lie to get a student discount, showing my otherwise useless student ID card (which is actually a huge moral relief for me). So, here are my feelings on school so far after one full week:

It is exciting. Being in class, reading for a purpose, writing academically (yes, I have already had one written assignment), looking around a classroom at my peers and letting the joyful awe settle in my heart – awe based on the tremendous intelligence and wisdom (and faith) that emerges from our collective devotion – are even more refreshing and life giving than I expected.

It hurts. My hand, my legs, my rear, my brain (although I learned in psychology that brains cannot feel pain properly, nevertheless they do make sense of it). I am retraining muscles that too quickly went out of use. I don't remember taking notes to be as hard as it was this past Monday in my first class. I don't remember my legs being this exhausted from traveling to school (although I blame that more on the terrain than my ability). I don't remember sitting for several hours at a time to be so uncomfortable. I don't remember waking up early to be so tiring.

It is beautiful. I rode to campus on Tuesday as the sun was rising. I am typically more of a sunset fan, but what I saw on that ride blew me away. It was potentially the most beautiful I have ever seen the sky -colors streaming over trees from a bright blue origin to proclaim and announce and trumpet the arrival of a new day. I marched around a 'lab' while singing a sort of chant and peered into the eyes and hearts of my colleagues and saw the beauty of the divine spark burning in us all.

It is comforting. I mean this in the traditional understanding of the word – 'giving strength to'. I learned in my first class that the Bayeux tapestry elucidates the full meaning of this word. A section of this tapestry shows William marching behind his troops prodding them with his sword. The caption reads: "King William comforteth his soldiers". (I searched hard but could not find a picture of this section online.) I feel this is the best summation of what I perceive this time to be. I do not feel overwhelmed at the course work or load, but rather that it is truly going to give strength to my spiritual life as both a follower of God and a minister to others. And this comforting is not restricted to the classroom alone. I have made and deepened many new friendships already, which I graciously value.

So, ultimately it is like a Snuggie. The electrifying experience of putting it on and feeling the soft fleece caress your skin (that is not merely due to static electricity), the overwhelming warmth that you just have to push through or sweat out so that you can keep wearing it all the time, the graceful design that really crafts the body into a whole new form of beauty, it's ability to soothe you softly to sleep...

And when in it, the ladies can't resist you.

Theology 101: Intro to Seminary or When the Shadows Disappear

This week was orientation for new students at Candler, which meant for me a week full of awkward introductions and overwhelming new information. I don't want to overstate the excitement or understate the value of this time, for the long days filled with meeting good people were certainly both tedious and meaningful.

Aside from the typical orientation events (talking about courses, meeting people, touring the campus), seminary orientation includes worship services, which were definitely a breath of life into an otherwise dry, information laden day. There were also discussions by the professors about theological education, which only increased my excitement for being where I am now.

As engaging as these truly were, I found myself zoning out a little in the middle of the first day as I noticed the sunlight streaming in from the windows, smearing our shadows across the floor.

Shadows that effect the floor - the place, the chapel - but do not belong to it. Shadows that are temporary, that will be moving somewhere else all too soon. Shadows making their mark, but an invisible one in the long run. Shadows belonging to those gathered, or at least dictated by their presence.

But then the light shifted and started coming off the floor and the shadows disappeared.

Suddenly it was bodies, our bodies, which were illuminated, not the shadows. The sunlight radiating around the holy place managed to paint our bodies into the empty space of the chapel. Hosts subsumed their temporary, impactless forms, not departing fully from them, but casting a different image.

And I noticed that it is us who are here now making our mark - as our butts imprint the seats. A mark that at least the next person who sits there will notice.

The sunlight steadily grew and through it all, whether it be shadows or butt, illusory or real, temporary or less temporary, I realized that the light is constant and all pervasive. The sun was there making all possible, giving life and light to our gathering.

And I saw that as the light increased, the shadows (that lack of light) retreated from our midst, and our selves found their true, full expression as we were all the more able to reflect the light and color our world.

A great beginning

I took this picture in my apartment in Dallas in July.  I think I laid down to take a nap and then saw it on the wall.  I wish I knew what it was reflecting off so that I could try it again.  Nevertheless, that amazing light butterfly phenomenon amazed me and encouraged me then as it does now.

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I am all moved in and beginning to be settled in Atlanta.  A new home. I am now hundreds of miles away from anyone I have known. It all seems surreal. Like I just started a new chapter. All the cheesy cliches about big life transitions seem so applicable. And it seems like it all happened instantaneously, like flipping a switch. One minute surrounded by loving friends overwhelmed by support and comfort of knowing people and having things figured out – then the next minute I am on my own, lost at sea with no bearings. It is thrilling and terrifying.

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I picked this one, because I was actually at this concert, btw.

Transition or It's Been Good

This is not only one of my favorite movie scenes, but also describes my current feelings pretty well.  Enjoy!

Sentient Robots or Why Robocop is actually a pretty good movie

I bet that whenever we are finally scientifically advanced enough to produce sentient life in the form of robots, that those sentient robots will be a little different than we expect.

We often think of robots that can think for themselves and know that they are alive as still being automatons and being completely emotionally void. Kind of like Robocop for the first part of his (re)existence. But as we all know, Robocop himself could not function without his emotions getting the better of him.

I sometimes think that people really do believe that the highest level of human functioning is devoid of emotion. And if not that, then they think that at least the normal mode of functioning is emotionless. We constantly try to stifle expression of our emotions, especially in public situations. I myself am guilty of this and tried for many years to be as stoic a man as I could be. That led me through some pretty terrible responses to things that had gone on in my life; and shifted me into the position of an uncaring boyfriend, brother, and son.

Two examples of emotional stifling that have come to my attention recently:

1. 
   
   I ride on public transportation pretty frequently. If you never have, you should. Everyone sits facing one direction and shows no signs of what is going on in their lives. It’s a real blast! Sure, every now and then you get the guy who actually does open up a little, but most people just think he is crazy. I noticed this the most as I was in England last summer and traveling on some form of public transport almost every day. I would listen to some funny podcasts sometimes and felt embarrassed when I would randomly crack up because of something funny. I even went to lengths to try to hide those outbursts. We have simply made public spaces a haven for emotional restriction. But why? And at what cost?

I have noticed this trend here in Dallas as well on the DART. Everyone just sits and stares or listens to music or reads. I have no problem with that, but where is the joy or mourning that we experience? Why do we feel the need to suppress it?

2. 
   
   I believe it was my sophomore year in college during marching band practice. It was a frustrating rehearsal and everyone was up-tight. After one move the band director called the drum line out on something (that most likely really wasn’t our fault), and Michael (our drum line captain at the time) stood up to him and forcefully asserted his stance. Soon, they were yelling at each other. Everyone immediately felt the tension and the first reactions of myself and the drum line instructor were to calm Michael down and stop the yelling. But why?

If you really think about it, Michael’s reaction probably expressed the feelings of just about every other band member who did not have the guts to express themselves (myself included). Also, Michael’s outburst shows that he actually cared about what was going on. He was not content to just sit back and let things continue to be sub-par. True, it was probably also brought about because of many other reasons including pride, but at least he felt something, at least he showed he cared about what we were doing. I’d say a worse reaction would be to just let things drift along while remaining totally removed from the situation.

I have often talked with friends about how much of a shame it is that our first reaction when a baby starts to cry is to get it to stop. This may have good foundations sometimes (i.e. the baby is probably crying because it is uncomfortable), but not so when we carry this mindset out through our lives and always try to comfort people as they cry and do whatever we can to get them to stop crying. Maybe crying is exactly what we need to do. I honestly think that one of my major faults is that I do not cry enough.

I do not mean to imply that we should exist at the whims of our emotions. True, a world in which everyone constantly expressed whatever emotion they were feeling would most likely be a wreck. But do we ever have an opportunity to share? Do we have the communities in place to be open in such a way? And, do we allow a suppression of our emotions to restrict our love of others and eat away at our hearts like termites? Perhaps as we are careful not to act at the whims of our emotions, we should simultaneously be careful to not censor what makes us, us. Both extremes tend to separate us from others, but in our individualistic world, I think the greater threat to true community and true love of others is our lack of transparency as we too cautiously and irrationally guard our hearts.

Take these observations as you will. I just don’t think that our sentient robots would be content without emotion and that they would proceed to find ways to invent emotion for themselves. And we all know where that eventually leads…

1 Corinthians 12:26

Another take on this...

Velocity

'Every body will persist in its state of rest or of uniform motion (constant velocity) in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it' - otherwise known as Newton's First Law of Motion.

I had to teach this to the kids I worked with this summer while discussing gravity, air resistance, and Newton's laws of motion. We of course talked about dropping things, especially small coins from great heights. And I learned something new: that everything has a terminal velocity. The penny being dropped from the tallest building will reach a max speed.

I kind of don't believe this, but I have talked to several people who I trust know their physics and they all agreed. I must have slept through that day in science.

But then again, as I think about everyday life, Newton's laws and my knowledge of velocity seem to make more and more sense.

I have had to drive in Dallas traffic a lot more than I ever have before, and at peak times. In going to work and coming back from work I have begun to notice certain trends in this traffic. One is that people really don't like to change speed. This includes speeding up or slowing down. I'd say that most people can be completely surrounded by cars, and as long as they are all going a steady speed that is the desired speed of that person, he or she will be happy. People only get mad when they are forced to slow down or speed up.

Newton's fist law is commonly put: an object in motion will stay in motion and an object at rest will stay at rest unless acted upon by an outside, unbalanced force. And once that occurs, the object will be angry.

People don't like to change their velocity. It does require energy to speed up or slow down, and we often meet some sort of resistance. Maybe we all have a natural rhythm, or maybe it is just our expectations of the way things should work. But when this attitude bleeds over into other parts of our lives, it often results in problems. I don't claim to be an expert, but from what I've seen, coasting typically is not a good option in any type of work, for any personal benefit, and especially for any type of relationship (be it friendship, romantic, or religious).

Besides, things are always more exciting when you change velocity. You either get to slow down and see more and take in more. Or you could speed up and experience the thrill and excitement of the moment.

I went to Six Flags yesterday. There are no rides that maintain the same speed the entire time, because that would be boring. A roller coaster is an attraction because it breaks from the velocity of everyday normal living with slow, building, suspenseful moments and fast, crazy, wild moments.

Sure, discipline and ritual are good, and I believe they work wonders in our lives. But so does a willingness to change velocity. Otherwise we become just like angry Dallas drivers, only in all aspects of our lives.

Goes well with this post:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TahH7B_aUZc&playnext=1&videos=0CledNXSvg8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fX7iwwB9zQ4

I love her but I just don't like her

I have often heard this, especially through middle school and high school. I have even though it, especially during those times as well. I think it is a common phrase among siblings, nice people, and spiritual people. It is common in people who know they should care about someone, but can’t stand to be around that person. People who know they should love others, but find in their hearts only disgust.

This phrase is often extended to those that are very close to us in some way and that we can’t help being in some sort of relation with, or to those who we may be around but have no direct tie to. For instance, my sister. Throughout middle school (and even before that) I had to live with her and had to at least act the best I could that I obligatorily loved her. However, I really did not want to be around her most of that time. And even this pseudo loving but not liking only led me to love her less during those years. (Fortunately, I have learned to overcome that and move past those irrational feelings – I do truly love my sister now).

I'd say the same thought runs through the mind of countless children toward their parents – that belief that we love our parents despite the fact that we dislike everything about them. I recently had a conversation with someone who had convinced herself that she did love her parents, but when questioned more deeply about this, found that perhaps it was merely an illusory thought.

Does familial relation guarantee or presuppose love? Sort of – I believe there is an aspect of love between parent and child that is somewhat mystical and natural from birth, but that does not mean that the love is perfect – it still must be worked upon continually as in any other relationship. And you can still grow to effectively not love a parent. It seems we too often take these relationships for granted.

Or, maybe you are standing behind someone in line at the post office. The person is too skinny or too fat, makes weird noises every now and then (heavy breather or squeaky shoes). This person is a little absent minded and doesn’t move up to keep the line flowing until about 40 seconds have passed since a space opened up in front of the line (even though you know that doesn’t really help anything). Then there’s the one person actually working at the post office. This person is not going particularly slow, but definitely not fast. You know this person sees how long the line is and can imagine that there are some people who are in a real hurry. It is not that the postal worker doesn’t care about this, there is just a lack of urgency in the whole process. You can tell it is a slightly dull job and that the person is kind of being sucked into that dullness, but still that has obvious consequences for the whole process, particularly you and the others in line.

Do we love these people? I’d venture to say we most certainly don’t like them. We may have pity on them, but is that love? My point is, we think this, consciously or not, way too often. God forbid we admit that we hate that person; we know we are supposed to love others – God told us to, but what do we do with those people that disgust us, annoy us, that we just can’t bring ourselves to like?

Can we really love someone but not like them, if in fact we are loving anyone at all?

Well, I’d say first we have to realize that we are not loving those people in thinking this way (i.e. that we can't like them). How can we bring ourselves to believe that we can love someone without care, affection, or a uniting of hearts? How can we even begin to think that we are loving someone while they invoke in us emotions we don’t even necessarily feel towards those who may be the most evil people in the world?

Besides, if we don’t confront this dislike where it begins, and cover it up with the camouflage of love, surely it will soon blossom and bloom into an uncontrollable passion of hate and pride towards that person. (Lewis captures this well in The Screwtape Letters when Screwtape encourages Wormwood to "Bring fully into the consciousness of your patient that particular lift of his mother's eyebrows which he learned to dislike in the nursery, and let him think how much he dislikes it..." and that this can even be masked by empty prayers for the mother, 12-13.) 

Sure this sounds like extremes, like black and white, love or hate. But is there really any in-between here? If you are not showing someone love, what are you really doing?

We have grown to allow ourselves to too easily separate love – the type of love God tells us to exhibit, love to everyone – from any real feelings. We have developed a love that can be extended without having to get to know someone, without having to face our own sinful thoughts and behaviors and repent of them. We have found this twisted form of love that we try to extend despite the hate in our hearts toward that person.

Is this love? Is it the love God wants us to have toward others – any others? All others? Is this a love that heals wounds, bridges gaps, restores life, crowns peace, spurs hope?

Is this the love offered us?

And if this is all we can extend to those who have done nothing against us, nothing to offend us, what can we hope to extend to our enemies? What deep within our hearts is reserved for them?

So, is this possible? Can we really love? Can we really love anyone, everyone? I think it starts with grace. With repenting of our dislike and allowing God’s mercy to flow over us and prepare our hearts to love in the way He loves us. No, we cannot do it…alone. But I don’t think it is impossible. We can love, for God does not ask us to do anything we cannot do, or that he has not already done (not to mention that love is much greater than we are). Yes, it is hard and we will fail. Yes, our ‘love’ is often imperfect. But I think when we stop believing that our love must be imperfect, when we don’t let ourselves get away with that, then we will begin to find a truer, whole-er, more complete love to lavish upon even those we didn’t like – a category in our lives that will hopefully cease to exist.

A guide: 1 Corinthians 13

Two Wrongs Do Make a Right

A negative times a negative equals a positive.

I've had to teach this to the kids at the camp I have been working at all sumer long and it has brought back memories of when I learned it myself. I did not like math at all in 4^th - 6^th grade, and I was not incredibly good at it either. But I think it is reasonable to wonder why in the world a negative and a negative make a positive. Even now it is one of those things I just do without really knowing why it has to be that way.

I guess it makes sense if you act it out, though. If you walk backwards, then turn around and walk backwards again, you've really gone forwards. But going forwards, then turning around and going forwards again would give you backwards and a positive and a positive don't make a negative. On top of that one person's forwards is another person's backwards, so the direction is ultimately relative anyway. Hmm.

This whole double negative thing comes up in language too. A double negative doesn't not mean a positive. Granted, it is redundantly poor grammar, but we do use this structure of speech fairly often to drive home a point.

So, so far two wrongs are: questionably necessary, confusing, and often redundant.

But I think I finally found a way that they bring truth and beauty to our lives. And sorry to all trying to teach character values such as respect, but this does show that ultimately two wrongs do make a right (not always, but they can).

Sin + death = salvation.

The evil of our sins combined with the wrongful death of Jesus (two wrongs) combine mystically to provide for our salvation (a right if ever there was one). It may not make sense, but it is definitely necessary.

I am not approving of insulting those who insult you. But if you do, at least let that lead your mind to the one time when a wrong heaped on a whole mound of wrongs resulted in a glorious blessing. Know that God showed us that it is possible that two wrongs can't not make a right.

Throwback week continues - Speck

That's right, it's throwback week.  Monday's post was written almost exactly a year ago and today's was written almost exactly two years ago.  I guess I had a lot of good inspiration in July until this year.

I have purposefully not edited these two posts from whatever final draft I saved.  It's pretty cool to see how my thoughts have developed.  A little glimpse of the last of my teen angst in this one, maybe?

Speck – 7/14/08

Oh! This speck in my eye.

Why do you bother me so much?

Agitating, irritating my sweet soft eye -

Cutting, scratching, scarring.

But more than that -

Driving my head crazy.

At first, I cried all day, unintentionally of course,

My bed sheets were streaked with wet.

I removed my contacts,

But that just added blindness to the pain.

My finger fumbled – it is too big.

All I could accomplish was to reaffirm

The existence of that stupid speck.

Nothing in my power can fix this problem.

Maybe I should see an optometrist

In his clean white coat

And perfect rimmed glasses;

So he can over-analyze

And over-criticize

The way I’ve treated my poor red eye.

He would describe the exact nature

Of that wicked speck;

Or tell me how it is ruining my eye;

Maybe he would prescribe some

Fancy eye drops to ease the pain.

Eye drops don’t last forever, Mr. Optometrist.

And what good would eye drops do anyway,

When even tears fail me every second

(That is, when tears do come).

Oh, why won’t tears come anymore?

The salty beads used to roll down my cheeks,

But even then only smeared my print-outs

Of ‘What to do in Case of a Speck,’

And never did anything to remove it.

They are absent now.

Surely my body has some sort

Of evolutionary mechanism

That would eject this speck.

The speck is simply lodged too deep -

It has been there too long.

If only I had flushed it out at first

With some cool, refreshing water...

But wait, is it still there?

I can’t see it.

I can’t feel it.

Yes…it is just ever harder to notice.

Maybe I am getting used to it,

Or maybe it is starting to callous my eye.

Oh, how wonderful that would be,

That the pain would give way to strength.

I would have a better eye

Impervious to any nasty new speck.

However, what good is a calloused eye?

Can I even see out of it?

No - an eye is supposed to be tender and pure.

Forget you, calloused eye

And damn you speck!

You are not making me stronger at all

But rather weaker.

And more frustrated.

Oh God,

If you would just remove it!

I can’t live like this.

Give me new eyes,

Just let me start over.

A letter never sent or On Meeting a Pigeon by the Ouse River, York

7/13/2009

Hello Mr. Pigeon,

My wandering, scavenging brother.

You look nice and plump today

Strolling along the un-cobbled stones

Set crooked and jagged along the path,

Inlaid with treasures, your treats;

Little gem flakes and crusts and crumbs

Make this buffet my pathway.

What? So quickly a goodbye?

But, I just said “Hi.”

Oh, I see – off to another feed.

Always pecking, searching, eating,

Looking, finding, fighting

For that next tiny morsel.

Why so much effort?

It is just one tiny, trodden trinket

Left unaware and uncared

By some passerby.

But I know.

It’s your life

To constantly seek;

To constantly intake;

To constantly consume

Every little leftover piece,

Whatever you can get.

And to you that forsaken crumb

Is a little piece of heaven.

Something worth begging for;

Something worth fighting for.

And for you that is enough.

I bet you wouldn’t even know what to do

With a whole hamburger-

(Although I am sure you sometimes dream

About such a rich patty and crisp lettuce,

Milky cheese and juicy tomatoes).

Is it greed or need that motivates you

To peck around for that next speck?

Oh, I have been mistaken

In thinking I am so much better.

With my fine china

And clean cutlery;

With food aplenty-

Yes, even that dream food of yours!

That I lackadaisically pick around

And leave lukewarm, uneaten to throw out in the trash.

Just when I thought I was blessed

I met you.

Goodbye, Mr. Pigeon.

Let's Share A Story!

I spent this past weekend with four of my friends from my childhood though high school. We, for the most part, all went to school together (and were in classes together), were all in band together, all went through boy scouts together, and helped each other with whatever crazy idea was on the table at the time (building a hovercraft was one of my favorites).

I think it was the first time we had all been together in the past 4 or 5 years since high school. I have seen two of them frequently throughout the past several years, but had only communicated with the other two over long distances.

We all met in Beaumont, TX, which was about a 4-5 hour drive for me. On the way back, I had plenty of time to think about the weekend and the fun we had. As I drove further away from them and closer to home, my tired muscles and sleepy eyes were calling me to immediate reminiscence of all the fun we packed into two days together. We did a lot – playing games, swimming in the gulf, catching up with each other and telling each other what we have been up to through college.

While watching piney woods transform into open fields, I recalled the countless stories we have shared throughout our lives, including the new ones we just wrote this weekend.

My thoughts then turned to the future and the fact that this may have been the last time I saw all those guys for another four years. Those thoughts went a little something like this.

But then I thought about those stories. Not individually, but rather as a whole. And I thought about that huge four year gap in our shared stories. It is in no way a bad thing, but it made me wonder.

We are of course all facebook friends. And I have kept up with each of the other four through facebook pretty well (excluding one guy who has a profile but never uses it...who does that anymore?). Everyone knows that online networking is in no way a replacement for face to face human interaction, but I finally realized to the full extent why it could never be.

I can share my stories on facebook, or here, and I can read or hear stories shared with me by friends online in some form. But there is a huge difference between sharing stories and sharing life. As great as the internet is, I can never share life with anyone on it. I can talk to and see friends through modern technology and to an extent interact with them, but I can never truly share life in the way I did this weekend as I ate with, swam with, laughed with, and went to sleep and woke up with friends (I will avoid the phrase slept with although we did all crash in the same room).

As great as it is, I don't think the new iphone can even truly enable a sharing of life.

I realize that I can't share life with everyone all the time, but when given the option I would much rather share life with someone than merely share stories. Besides, while sharing life you make stories, and as fun as sharing stories is, making them is infinitely better.

When a Tree Leaves

This is possibly the saddest thing I have heard in a while.

In Nevada, in 1964, a graduate student named Don Currey went out into a forest of bristlecone pines to do some research on climate change. He found some super old trees and tried to drill into the core of one (to take a core sample), but it began to be more difficult and finally the drill broke. The forest service came in and cut down the tree (which was called the Prometheus Tree) for him so that he could study the tree rings. He took some slabs back to his lab and started counting the rings.

He eventually made it to 4844 rings, making the tree 4844 years old. The oldest tree. The oldest continuously living organism on the planet. And it was killed in 1964.

I heard about this on a podcast last weekend and was really struck with how sad it is. I realize it was an accident and they would have never done it if they had known, so I am not upset, but it is still sad.

If you want to hear the whole story:

http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/2010/06/28/oops/ - about 15 minutes in

http://www.terrain.org/essays/14/cohen.htm

So...

"...What do you do? You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry but in between I laugh and I realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously. Plus, I look forward to a good cry. It feels pretty good."
-Sam (played by Natalie Portman, Garden State)

Maybe we can cry or laugh and breath a little more life for the other trees around us.  Or just enjoy the countless other trees brought to life through the seeds of that tree.

Nothing lasts forever, except God.  Maybe this provides a good place to really think about that.

1 Timothy 6:13-16
In the sight of God, who gives life to everything, and of Christ Jesus, who while testifying before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you to keep this command without spot or blame until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, which God will bring about in this own time - God, the blessed and only Ruler, the King of kings, and Lord of lords, who alone is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light, whom no one has seen or can see. To him be honor and might forever. Amen.

Ending on a Good Note

I went to hit some golf balls last weekend with my dad. At the end of these outings we always practice putting, which eventually turns into a putting contest between us. My dad always wins (although I am getting much closer). This time, on the last hole, I completely botched my shots and just did not do well at all. So, my dad made us do one more hole on the reasoning that you should not end on a bad note.

I have also been reading through the minor prophets of the Old Testament and have been struck with one repeating feature. To start, they are typically very negative. The prophet is laying it on the Israelites (or other nations); 'it' being how mad God is at them and all the terrible stuff He is going to do. We get a very detailed account of all the ways they have sinned and rebelled against their God. But then at the end, almost as an afterthought, the prophet adds how God will restore Israel (For example: In the 9 chapters of Amos, only the last 5 verses are positive), that the sin leading to punishment is not the end, that despite all the bad stuff going on, the real end will be a good note.

I guess God doesn't even like ending on a bad note.

This pattern can also be found in many psalms. The psalmist may be crying out to God verse upon verse, lamenting the sufferings of his life and the absence of God, but as he nears the end of his prayerful song, he begins to turn to God's goodness and the hope of restoration.

I wonder why this is. No matter how bad we are doing at something, whether that is golf (or any sport), musical performance, life, etc. why must we end on a good note?

I asked my dad this after our putting game, and I think it took him a little by surprise. And the more I think about it the more unnatural questioning this phenomenon seems to be. Why wouldn't you want to end on a good note? But he basically told me that it's good for morale, especially when that last shot is the one you are most likely going to be thinking about all the way up to the next time you hit a ball.

Cognitive psychology does show that you remember the first and last items of a sequence the best - like an inverse bell curve:

They call this the serial position effect – the culmination of primacy and recency effects. The experiments are usually memory recall tests (i.e. having subjects try to memorize a list of words and then waiting a few minutes before writing down the ones they remember – people generally remember the first couple of words and the last couple the best), but I guess you could loosely extrapolate those findings to something like a practice round of golf. Maybe that last shot really does stick with you more than all the other crappy ones you hit.

But I think ending on a good note arises out of something deeper than a desire to boost our morale. It surpasses any attempt to cognitively trick ourselves into believing things are better than they are.

We know that things are better than they sometimes seem to be. Or at least that they will be better.  We know that there is something better in us or around us that we can connect with.

And I'd say that that seeming afterthought in the minor prophets is not an afterthought at all. Instead, it is the central element of the prophet's message. The culmination of the prophet's entreaty is that hope of restoration. The prophets know that the end will be a good note – or rather a chord of faith, hope, and love that is pleasing to both God and man. It is hard to imagine the dissonance resolving, but the prophets and the psalmists have left their reminders that it will happen. Good will win out in the end.

God not only wants us to end on a good note, He is in fact that very good note, present at the beginning and the end and beyond each.   

Concert Etiquette

I went to a concert last week, something I do seasonally (about 3-4 times a year), and enjoy immensely. After careful observational study of diverse concert settings and deductive reasoning into the nature of the interaction between concert-goer, concert-performer, and concert venue, I would like to propose these 10 Commandments of proper concert etiquette (primarily applying to a [indie] rock concert atmosphere):

1. Thou shalt get to the venue as early as possible, at least a couple of hours before the doors open to show your fan loyalty. Unfortunately, this will not make a good impression on anyone and the band/artist will never know (much less care) about your sacrifice.

2. Thou shalt wear the skinny jeans.

3. As soon as the sound check begins, thou shalt crowd up as close to the stage and everyone else as you can, but don't forget to save a spot for that one friend of yours who you know will show up late.

4. Thou shalt wear the v-neck t-shirt.

5. If the show has already started when you arrive, thou shalt just hold up thy cell phone and shove up to the front. Sure, everyone will hate you, but you didn't come to be packed into a tightly contained space with a bunch of strangers to make friends.

6. Thou shalt incorporate song titles and lyrics into your conversations the day of the concert.
   
   
7. Thou shalt get into the music, but don't really get into it. It's okay to bob your head and tap your foot, but letting the music truly move you is out of the question (just follow the majority of the crowd on this one - psychologists call this groupthink).

8. Thou shalt be up to date on all the lead singer's personal info and shout it out at the band in between songs.
   
   
9. Thou shalt never attain ear plugs. You'll look like a wimp. So when you go to the bathroom and realize you can't even hear yourself urinating, don't let it cross your mind to stuff some wadded up toilet paper in your aching external organs before heading back out.

10. Thou shalt take lots of crappy pictures of the band on stage that each look exactly the same.

Dependence

I don't get sick very often, but when I do there is one thing that is sure to come to my mind: dependence. I dislike feeling weak and vulnerable even more than throwing up or any pain I may have.

I am not a very dependent person naturally (especially when I do not have the choice). I like to get things done on my own. That is probably why I don't like working in groups that much (although I think that working in groups is overall better than working alone).

My thoughts specifically drift toward dependence on God. It is something I have struggled with a lot. I usually don't think about it until I get ill or until something I try doesn't work the way I thought I could pull it off. For me, dependence is normally a last effort at trying to fix some sort of crisis of life/faith.

This has especially been on my mind lately since I sustained probably the longest lasting injury of my life so far. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpe6oH2jZjM&playnext_from=TL&videos=sRkdaZwF62k

I have been recovering the past two months from a fractured clavicle. It is a frustrating injury for me because only one small section of my body is out of commission, but it is an important part and has kept me from doing a lot of what I normally do.

Nevertheless, I have almost completely healed now. In a resurgence of strength I have been able to jump back into my self empowered life.

But I am not too far from the injury as to forget about the dependence my life has been based around of late. And last week, during a Taize service, I was left with God to talk about dependence.

The scripture reading was the passage where Jesus goes to the garden of Gethsemane; and, after meditating on how God will be there to support me when I exhaust myself, I then turned toward what it truly means to be dependent on God. Up to this point, I thought that meant waiting on God to engage me or intercede in my life. I wanted to depend on God the way a baby depends on its parents.  It seemed a very passive process for my part.

But suddenly I was struck with the phrase “I sacrifice my will to you, O Lord.” And I thought about that in light of dependence. Could a preemptive sacrificing of my will be the ultimate form of dependence on God, a true form of trusting completely in Him?

Dependence is not a passive state; rather, it is the active sacrificing of your will moment by moment. It is allowing God to guide and direct your life. And that is truly freeing.

Dependence is not good in and of itself. Parasitic relationships are founded on dependence. The parasite is completely dependent on the host. Even though such a parasite may often harm or even kill the host, it must have and prey on that host to live. The parasite is dependent, but for purely selfish gains. A sacrificial dependence protects against such a greedy, parasitic relationship with God that depends on Him only to provide us with a good life.

And to be fair, this relationship, be it good or bad, doesn't start with us. It starts with God's love and mercy. So, I guess in a sense we do have to wait for God to do something. But, He has already done it! And through his engagement with this world and intercession in our lives, we are able to take on God's will for our own lives and live dependently on/in Him.

Today I went to my third physical therapy session. At the very end I asked for an ice pack and got to lay down with the ice for a good 10 minutes. While laying there I closed my eyes and thought about that therapy session. The guidance I received to safely re-strengthen my limp, weak arm without re-injuring it, the gentle stretching of my stiff shoulder, and the soft, silky hands messaging my tense arm (I do have a woman therapist, jfyi). Maybe dependence isn't so bad after all (in a non-parasitic way).

Good bye

Saying 'bye' has many variations:

There's the jaded, I'm better off without you, break-up, Kristinia DeBarge goodbye.

The longing, nostalgic, hopefully romantic, Miley Cyrus goodbye.

The respectful (albeit somewhat proud), remembering losing a loved one, Mariah Carey bye bye.

And, of course, the overwhelming, spilling your emotional guts, 'surely this isn't really bye' goodbye.

And still I'm left to wonder, is there a difference between 'bye' and 'goodbye'?

I will be moving to a new state in about two months. I will be leaving almost all of my close friends. I have known that I will have to say goodbye at some point, but in my mind, I have been putting it off until the day before I leave. And since I don't know exactly when I will be leaving, the goodbyes are just as indefinite.

But, reality hit this past weekend and I had to say bye to a close friend. It was awkward and not easy. Thankfully in these cases I am not very emotional – even robotic (not something I am necessarily proud of, though). As I left, my roboticness kicked in, but soon after, another emotion crept through me saturating my dry, emotionless soul.

Not sadness, though. Not that painful heart-ripping feeling.

As I walked on and got back to my room, I thought about some of my other friends. It seems everyone is going somewhere different. Japan for a year. Alaska for a job. Ecuador for a year. Other friends will be staying in Dallas, and I may not see them for the same amount of time as my friends who are going overseas.

I thought about all this and treasured it in my heart. That emotion that started creeping in grew in intensity and soon I was able to identify it. Joy. I am overjoyed for all my friends and the wonderful things they are doing. I haven't felt this way through any other major life transition up to this point (granted I haven't had many of those), but it was truly refreshing.

It was very much a good bye.

And I hope yours and the rest of mine are similar.