"I see one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished." ::: FDR::: Second Inaugural Address, January 20, 1937
Hartley and Lee
When I was growing up I'd often spend a few days at a time with my grandpa and grandma on my mom's side. I was always closer to them than my other grandparents and my grandpa and I had a bond that was very special to me.
Grandpa and Grandma had a lot of hobbies from collecting carnival glass and square dancing to collecting antiques. I admit that I did not inheirit a love for any of these things..well, except the square dancing..but during my times with them I'd find myself at shows, in antique shops--you know, those run down barn looking buildings on the side of random highways that most of us simply drive by. And in my opinion we should drive by them.
Somewhere along the line they met this skinny old man names Hartley. He owned a lot of crap, er antiques and would give some to my grandparents. I think they also bought some from him but along the way they became friends with him. I think the best way to describe him would be to picture David Crowder minus the gotee and Beaker hair. This dude was that skinny, with funky posture and wee beedie eyes and just plain frail. I mean I think you could hurt him simply by coughing on him. He drove an incredible old Buick about 2/3 the size of the Titanic which only added to his mystique in my young eyes. Hartley was a kind old man, very soft spoken and always looking around with those old silver cat eye rimmed glasses.
Many times when I'd be at grandpa and grandmas, Hartley would show up for a visit. Often he had his friend Lee with him. Lee was a dude you could tell had a rough side to him. He would usually show up reaking, no REAKING of alchohol. As I got older I learned more about Lee, I'm not sure if my family wanted me to be protected from him or if I just asked questions. Turns out Lee was a drunk, a homeless guy and at least a mild drug addict. Somewhere along the line he and Hartley struck up a conversation which turned into a friendship. Lee would show up on Hartleys doorstep and stay with him for a week or two, then randomly disappear for weeks on end. Usually his departure coincided with the disappearance of at least cash and sometimes some item of value from Hartley's house.
People where Hartley lived knew that he and Lee were friends and so they'd usually see Lee cashed out in some alley or doorway around the neighborhood and would let Hartley know and he'd go find him, either wake him or simply muster whatever muscles he had and carry him back to his house where he'd recoup, sober up, get warm and well fed and then steal away with more money and valuables to start the whole process over again.
At times my grandpa and I would be out on the town at hardware shops looking for just the right part and we'd swing by Hartley's. Grandpa never let me go in the building with him. I always sat in the car while he'd disappear for 15-20 minutes and return saying little to nothing and we'd head home. Later in life I found out grandpa would swing by to give Hartley a few dollars. Hartley was poor as poor could be, his home was in an old brick building full of apartments and the tenants in there were probably quite colorful. When I look back I think grandpa and grandma didn't really care about the antiques, they wanted to take care of Hartley and Lee. They'd hire them to do odd jobs around their place and I'm sure Lee took his share of stuff from my family which financed nice evenings on the town.
When I reflect on those early days a couple things pop to mind. First my grandpa and grandma would never be classified as rich, nor even well off. They had money to pay their bills, to feed their family and usually slip a few dollars in the pocket of their favorite grandchild :) But what I took away from them was their generosity with what they had. My grandpa was often too generous with him money which I think is a terrific flaw for one to have.
I'm also struck by their willingness to be put in unsafe situations. Hartley or at least Lee was bad news. He was going nowhere but down, there was little hope of him breaking free of his addictions and yet grandpa and grandma (at the risk of sounding cliche) talked to them about their faith all the time. I remember numerous times when they'd invite them to church only to hear a myriad of excuses why they couldn't make it.
I got to thinking the other day what it would have been like if those guys had one day shown up for church. I for one would have been humiliated to have been associated with them. Them in their dissheveled clothes, reaking of alchohol and not knowing any of the etiquite of church. My grandparents old, conservative Baptist church would have freaked.out.
But grandpa and grandma didn't care. They shared and prayed and gave and talked and hoped.
But what really gets me is Hartley. I mean, what was in it for him? This dude wasn't a professing Christian, he had no agenda of evangelism and Lee definately wasn't holding up his end of the bargain. But Hartley gave and gave. And what at times hacks me off is that Lee got a better treatment from Hartley that from the church. I sometimes wonder if g and g simply were kind to him for the churches sake. Like they were trying to keep it even with secular society because otherwise it would be painfully obvious who really cared for the deadbeat drunk with no future.
On my drive in to church each morning in Colorado I had to drive under I-25. One morning I happened to look up wondering if anyone ever slept under that overpass and almost let out a sound when I actually saw a cold, gray body arise from a nights rest and stretch his arms. For the next week I saw that same body arise and I am happy to announce I once even wondered what I could do to help him. I never did anything.
Colorado is notorious for almost every off ramp having at least one "beggar" waiting at the stop light. It seems the most common response from drivers by is to suddenly find an irresitable interest in the stereo, thus causing them to lean over and do so, fiddling with the station until the light turns green. At least that's my favorite way to ignore them.
Our senior pastor in Colorado had a bad reputation. Turns out he was much to generous with his money. In staff meetings they'd recount stories of times someone would approach him with a benevolent need and he'd open up his wallet and give them $20, $50 and sometimes more. We'd sit around our conference room table and shake our heads. Our business guy would tell him the church could reimburse him for that and he'd kindly decline. His wife would smile and give that "what are you going to do" look. We'd all look at him like he was crazy. Not so much because we couldn't figure out why he always carried so much cash (or how we could get our hands on some) but more because deep down at least I knew that if I had that money in my pocket some bum or beggar would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.
"They need a hand; they get the finger." ::: Anonymous
"He who oppresses a poor man insults his maker; but he who is kind to the needy honors him." ::: Proverbs 14:31
Friday, January 27, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Poverty and Service, Part 1
"The poor man's conscience is clear; yet he is ashamed.....He feels himself out of the sight of others, groping in the dark. Mankind takes no notice of him; he rambles and wanders unheeded. In the midst of a crowd, at church, in the market....he is iin as much obscurity as he would be in a garret or a cellar. He is not disapproved, censured or reproached: he is only not seen....To be wholly overlooked, and to know it, are intolerable." :::John Adams, 1790
It's called gentrification. The dictionary actually defines it this way:the restoration and upgrading of deteriorated urban property by middle class or affluent people, often resulting in displacement of lower income people.
I'd never before heard of this term until my summer began. And like many other things in life, once you are aware of it, you notice it more often. Much like buying that car and thinking you're the only one that has one, then finding on at almost every intersection and in seemingly every other driveway.
In Cincinnati there is a street feeding program we're a part of. For $200 we can buy enough food to feed a huge population of homeless men and women in a park there in Cincy. Each day we let one youth group head down to Camp Washington where they make the sandwiches, cut the fruit, pack up the drinks and then drive to the park where at the appointed time these men and women begin to shuffle in and take their free meal. It's costs us $800/week to feed them.
This is probably the last summer we'll be doing this street feed. Turns out the neighborhood is changing and the homeless have become both a danger and an eyesore. Probably mostly the latter and a little of the former.
They sold the park property to a performing arts school who's going to build their new theater there and put in a nice parking lot and presumably charge $25-$50 a ticket to see plays and shows. It will be well recieved and will help attract the type of people they are looking to move into the newly remodeled penthouse apartments. Slowly the corners are popping up with coffee shops, trendy sandwich bistros and swanky bookstores with intelligent sounding titles and plush leather chairs modernly arranged in reading corners.
The underlying plan is to remove the homeless. Since the city simply doesn't want them, they don't really care where they end up and the hope as it was stated to me is to simply scatter them out and hopefully instead of one big problem, there can be some little ones all over.
Soon that neighborhood will be trendy, popular and buildings that were run down and eyesores will hold lofts renting from $1000 a month and heading up. The problem of the homeless will be gone or at least out of sight and the world will be a better place, if not a safer one.
Let's be honest, in the back of our minds we don't want those people around. They are probably all on drugs and at the least they are drunks. They don't contribute to society, they live off the system, they are a danger. They are clearly losers with no present and definately no future. With all the jobs out there they could get one if they'd simply have any sort of self motivation and had more self respect. Unfortunately, they've screwed up somewhere and now love the bottle of cheap liquor more than anything.
And I wonder how that paragraph sits with you. I'd be shocked if you had no response. Either you sat there reading and nodding your head in agreement, remembering back to a time when you ventured out to a downtown event and afterwards made your way to your car as quickly as possible praying under your breath for safety and hoping not to get mugged or assaulted or at least hit up for money.
My hometown of Portland has an area called the Pearl District. It's really nice down there. They have some great coffee shops, an amazing burrito place, a Pottery barn, Restoration Hardware, Urban Outfitters,some bakeries and all sorts of clothing stores I've never heard of who sell amazing clothes at even more amazing prices. Shopping down there makes prices at Abercronbie and Banana Republic feel like a thrift shop. People down there think of those clothes as something you do yard work in. And I like the Pearl District. Just the name sounds cool and its so enjoyable down there, the people are fun and its so safe. There are no bums, no panhandlers, no one armed vietnam vetrans with their harmonicas.
That's why its popular. A few years back, like when I was in high school the pearl district wasn't even called the Pearl District. It was a run down, bad part of downtown Portland. You didn't go there becuase there was nothing there to go for. Once you got past like 16th street you were off the map as they say. But Portland had an aggressive plan to get people back into downtown. They had Pioneer Courthouse Square, a new 5 story mall-Pioneer Place complete with an entire 4 story building across the street just for Saks. Niketown was there, and the newly remodeled Performing Arts Center. And so they decided to venture north past 16th. Thus the Pearl District was named and created. The people loved it, and apartments and lofts were built or renovated and new life was breathed. Gentrification was accomplished and those who used to occupy Pearl before it was cool or trendy were displaced.
The only problem was that the bums, excuse me, the homeless, didn't leave. They went down near the Square and Pioneer Place. Now within a block of checking out that $450 dress at Saks is the blind dude with the dog and a guitar. And right after him is the morbidly obese gentleman just sitting there, with the "audacity to just ask for money" as I once overheard an attractive woman say on her way to her Lexus.
In fact it became a game with my friends when I was home to see who could make it the farthest from the mall back to the parking garage before getting hit up for money. Got any spare change? No we reply, Gap bag in hand.
And now downtown is trying to clean up its image. Everybody moved north to the Pearl because, well there's a lot of reasons they give but the bottom line is no bums.
"I is not the man who has little, but the man who craves more, that is poor." ::: Seneca The Younger (5? B.C.-A.D. 65)
It's called gentrification. The dictionary actually defines it this way:the restoration and upgrading of deteriorated urban property by middle class or affluent people, often resulting in displacement of lower income people.
I'd never before heard of this term until my summer began. And like many other things in life, once you are aware of it, you notice it more often. Much like buying that car and thinking you're the only one that has one, then finding on at almost every intersection and in seemingly every other driveway.
In Cincinnati there is a street feeding program we're a part of. For $200 we can buy enough food to feed a huge population of homeless men and women in a park there in Cincy. Each day we let one youth group head down to Camp Washington where they make the sandwiches, cut the fruit, pack up the drinks and then drive to the park where at the appointed time these men and women begin to shuffle in and take their free meal. It's costs us $800/week to feed them.
This is probably the last summer we'll be doing this street feed. Turns out the neighborhood is changing and the homeless have become both a danger and an eyesore. Probably mostly the latter and a little of the former.
They sold the park property to a performing arts school who's going to build their new theater there and put in a nice parking lot and presumably charge $25-$50 a ticket to see plays and shows. It will be well recieved and will help attract the type of people they are looking to move into the newly remodeled penthouse apartments. Slowly the corners are popping up with coffee shops, trendy sandwich bistros and swanky bookstores with intelligent sounding titles and plush leather chairs modernly arranged in reading corners.
The underlying plan is to remove the homeless. Since the city simply doesn't want them, they don't really care where they end up and the hope as it was stated to me is to simply scatter them out and hopefully instead of one big problem, there can be some little ones all over.
Soon that neighborhood will be trendy, popular and buildings that were run down and eyesores will hold lofts renting from $1000 a month and heading up. The problem of the homeless will be gone or at least out of sight and the world will be a better place, if not a safer one.
Let's be honest, in the back of our minds we don't want those people around. They are probably all on drugs and at the least they are drunks. They don't contribute to society, they live off the system, they are a danger. They are clearly losers with no present and definately no future. With all the jobs out there they could get one if they'd simply have any sort of self motivation and had more self respect. Unfortunately, they've screwed up somewhere and now love the bottle of cheap liquor more than anything.
And I wonder how that paragraph sits with you. I'd be shocked if you had no response. Either you sat there reading and nodding your head in agreement, remembering back to a time when you ventured out to a downtown event and afterwards made your way to your car as quickly as possible praying under your breath for safety and hoping not to get mugged or assaulted or at least hit up for money.
My hometown of Portland has an area called the Pearl District. It's really nice down there. They have some great coffee shops, an amazing burrito place, a Pottery barn, Restoration Hardware, Urban Outfitters,some bakeries and all sorts of clothing stores I've never heard of who sell amazing clothes at even more amazing prices. Shopping down there makes prices at Abercronbie and Banana Republic feel like a thrift shop. People down there think of those clothes as something you do yard work in. And I like the Pearl District. Just the name sounds cool and its so enjoyable down there, the people are fun and its so safe. There are no bums, no panhandlers, no one armed vietnam vetrans with their harmonicas.
That's why its popular. A few years back, like when I was in high school the pearl district wasn't even called the Pearl District. It was a run down, bad part of downtown Portland. You didn't go there becuase there was nothing there to go for. Once you got past like 16th street you were off the map as they say. But Portland had an aggressive plan to get people back into downtown. They had Pioneer Courthouse Square, a new 5 story mall-Pioneer Place complete with an entire 4 story building across the street just for Saks. Niketown was there, and the newly remodeled Performing Arts Center. And so they decided to venture north past 16th. Thus the Pearl District was named and created. The people loved it, and apartments and lofts were built or renovated and new life was breathed. Gentrification was accomplished and those who used to occupy Pearl before it was cool or trendy were displaced.
The only problem was that the bums, excuse me, the homeless, didn't leave. They went down near the Square and Pioneer Place. Now within a block of checking out that $450 dress at Saks is the blind dude with the dog and a guitar. And right after him is the morbidly obese gentleman just sitting there, with the "audacity to just ask for money" as I once overheard an attractive woman say on her way to her Lexus.
In fact it became a game with my friends when I was home to see who could make it the farthest from the mall back to the parking garage before getting hit up for money. Got any spare change? No we reply, Gap bag in hand.
And now downtown is trying to clean up its image. Everybody moved north to the Pearl because, well there's a lot of reasons they give but the bottom line is no bums.
"I is not the man who has little, but the man who craves more, that is poor." ::: Seneca The Younger (5? B.C.-A.D. 65)
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Sushi
Yesterday was a fine, fine day. I spent lunch downing sushi with my pal Shaver. Tuna, salmon and eel. Three words. De. Lisc.Ous. The conversation was good as well.
Bought the new Nooma (nice name for a title by the way) in the afternoon and had a long, long conversation about service and why we do, what we do with a friend. More on that in the coming days.
Started looking over interns for the summer. A little known fact, we don't get nearly as many applications as one might think. And now a couple clues for any who might dream of one day sending in an application: we require a resume, references and a picture. When sending in resume NEVER in the midst of a random paragraph quote (and I quote) "in the words of the great Christian artist Carmen from his song Mission 3:16...." Don't ever, ever, ever quote Carmen and expect me to hire you. To be honest, it was a struggle to love John and Tyler as I do despite their love of Carmen. Bad choice, bad choice.
Speaking of bad choices, the winner of our little internship derby is a story good enough to get our entire staff standing at a computer, completely speechless. His resume was very solid, we were excited. His references were quite nice and then came the picture. Ohhh, the picture. Just another piece of advice: when looking to impress people and earn a job, never submit as your resume picture a shot of you with your underwear on your head. I would show you this picture but I can't. The boy figured it would be a good idea to send a shot with his FTL on the old noggin. Maybe that Carmen quote isn't so bad......
Finally the day was finished off with a delightful evening with my amazing family sans Luke who is on the poop list with me. And yes, we watched Idol. All 2 blessed hours. Including the Hulk's woman and dude who's 6 yr old little brother did all the talking. All in all it was a nice day.
Bought the new Nooma (nice name for a title by the way) in the afternoon and had a long, long conversation about service and why we do, what we do with a friend. More on that in the coming days.
Started looking over interns for the summer. A little known fact, we don't get nearly as many applications as one might think. And now a couple clues for any who might dream of one day sending in an application: we require a resume, references and a picture. When sending in resume NEVER in the midst of a random paragraph quote (and I quote) "in the words of the great Christian artist Carmen from his song Mission 3:16...." Don't ever, ever, ever quote Carmen and expect me to hire you. To be honest, it was a struggle to love John and Tyler as I do despite their love of Carmen. Bad choice, bad choice.
Speaking of bad choices, the winner of our little internship derby is a story good enough to get our entire staff standing at a computer, completely speechless. His resume was very solid, we were excited. His references were quite nice and then came the picture. Ohhh, the picture. Just another piece of advice: when looking to impress people and earn a job, never submit as your resume picture a shot of you with your underwear on your head. I would show you this picture but I can't. The boy figured it would be a good idea to send a shot with his FTL on the old noggin. Maybe that Carmen quote isn't so bad......
Finally the day was finished off with a delightful evening with my amazing family sans Luke who is on the poop list with me. And yes, we watched Idol. All 2 blessed hours. Including the Hulk's woman and dude who's 6 yr old little brother did all the talking. All in all it was a nice day.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Coffee
As I get old(er) I've aquired a certain addiction to coffee. I used to stay away stating that it would stunt my growth but to be honest, I'm tall enough. I also stayed away becuase I said it would put too much hair on my chest. Doesn't seem like coffee or no coffee has any direct correlation there either. So I've become a must have coffee in the morning guy. Cream, no sugar and there is a fine line between a good amount to get me going and too much since I rarely eat breakfast rendering me jittery like a diabetic until lunch.
When we moved into the house here one of our purchases was a new coffee maker. Its quite svelt with a clock and a sleek new design. Its quite nice and other than the annoying beep when its done we've been happy with it. It even tells you how long ago the coffee was brewed so you know whether the stuff is fresh or more th consitency of old motor oil.
Like most machines it has the ability to be programmed to start at a particular time thus insuring fresh coffee for the first to rise in the morning. Ang figured it out and had it working until the first time we lost power at the house. Now, the clock is always wrong and I just make coffee when I wake up. Part of my waking ritual is now my feet on the cold tile down the hallway and in the kitchen.
So last week I began to have a power struggle with this coffee maker. Turns out that at random times the little feature that stops the brewing process when you pick up the pot won't kick in. This results in a terrific noise and mess as the coffee dumps down on the burner. The first time this happened I attempted to clean it by grabbing a rag out of the sink and begin to wipe the coffee up, the result being that in my grogginess I put my innocent hand under the hot coffee as it dumped out and on to the burner. I did realize that this helps speed up the waking process.
Now occasionally, the filter slips and the coffee ends up looking more like someone used it as a spitoon with all the little chunks of skoal or red man or whatever their choosen drug was.
One final struggle with this thing has been that no matter what amount of water I put in, no matter how consistent I am, the amount brewed is never the same. Sometimes it's ten cups, sometimes its barely 4.
The last time the coffee machine wizzed all over itself also happened to be the day that I made the spitoon mix as I now call it. It also happened to be the day where the coffee smelled especially inviting to my wife, only to discover it was a 4 cup day and I'd taken most of the coffee with me. SO, she awoke to little/no coffee, that which was present was as much grounds as liquid and most of the remained caked and charred onto the burner and all over the counter.
Turns out that's not a romantic way to start the day. It was not quite as well recieved as one might think. Shocking really. I was always told its the thought that counts. Guess whoever made that one up never had a coffee maker.
When we moved into the house here one of our purchases was a new coffee maker. Its quite svelt with a clock and a sleek new design. Its quite nice and other than the annoying beep when its done we've been happy with it. It even tells you how long ago the coffee was brewed so you know whether the stuff is fresh or more th consitency of old motor oil.
Like most machines it has the ability to be programmed to start at a particular time thus insuring fresh coffee for the first to rise in the morning. Ang figured it out and had it working until the first time we lost power at the house. Now, the clock is always wrong and I just make coffee when I wake up. Part of my waking ritual is now my feet on the cold tile down the hallway and in the kitchen.
So last week I began to have a power struggle with this coffee maker. Turns out that at random times the little feature that stops the brewing process when you pick up the pot won't kick in. This results in a terrific noise and mess as the coffee dumps down on the burner. The first time this happened I attempted to clean it by grabbing a rag out of the sink and begin to wipe the coffee up, the result being that in my grogginess I put my innocent hand under the hot coffee as it dumped out and on to the burner. I did realize that this helps speed up the waking process.
Now occasionally, the filter slips and the coffee ends up looking more like someone used it as a spitoon with all the little chunks of skoal or red man or whatever their choosen drug was.
One final struggle with this thing has been that no matter what amount of water I put in, no matter how consistent I am, the amount brewed is never the same. Sometimes it's ten cups, sometimes its barely 4.
The last time the coffee machine wizzed all over itself also happened to be the day that I made the spitoon mix as I now call it. It also happened to be the day where the coffee smelled especially inviting to my wife, only to discover it was a 4 cup day and I'd taken most of the coffee with me. SO, she awoke to little/no coffee, that which was present was as much grounds as liquid and most of the remained caked and charred onto the burner and all over the counter.
Turns out that's not a romantic way to start the day. It was not quite as well recieved as one might think. Shocking really. I was always told its the thought that counts. Guess whoever made that one up never had a coffee maker.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Sarcasm
I think sarcasm should be a spiritual gift. It is truly brilliant. Anyway, to hold us all over until tomorrow night when North Carolina gets Idolized by Simon here's a couple little sports tidbits that made me laugh...much too loud for the office and got me a couple questions. Not that I read sports stuff at work....but "a friend" sent them to me. And...anyway:
I'm wondering whether Bears head coach Lovie Smith called his defensive coordinator, Ron Rivera, at any point during yesterday's Seahawks-Panthers game.
"Hey, Ron. It's Lovie. You watching this?"
"Yep. It's really interesting."
"I know. Looks like the Seahawks decided to put their best cornerback on Steve Smith instead of their worst one like we did. Strange approach, but it seems to be working."
"Yeah, I noticed. Weird. And not only that, but sometimes they're using double or even triple coverage on him. I don't know how they ever conceived of such a wild concept as that, but hats off to them. I guess sometimes even the craziest ideas end up panning out."
"Too bad we didn't think of that, huh?"
"Yeah, too bad."
"Well, I guess I'll get going. Talk to you later."
"OK. I love you, Lovie."
"Uh ... OK, Ron. I really have to go now. Bye."
and number 2
The Seahawks are to be commended. For winning the NFC championship, yes, but even more because they didn't give Mike Holmgren a Gatorade shower at the end of the game. I'm hopeful this will put a stop to the played-out NFL tradition of dousing the head coach after each and every remotely meaningful victory. But if it does continue, there should at least be some consistency with it. Win a big game? Fine, dump a cooler of water on your coach. But if you lose, the coach should get tasered or hit in the back with a metal chair or at the very least have toilet water dumped on him. Not only would it provide some consistency to the practice and raise TV ratings, but more importantly it would increase the level of coaching in the NFL -- because no head coach would want to risk the ceremonial end-of-game tasering.
I'm wondering whether Bears head coach Lovie Smith called his defensive coordinator, Ron Rivera, at any point during yesterday's Seahawks-Panthers game.
"Hey, Ron. It's Lovie. You watching this?"
"Yep. It's really interesting."
"I know. Looks like the Seahawks decided to put their best cornerback on Steve Smith instead of their worst one like we did. Strange approach, but it seems to be working."
"Yeah, I noticed. Weird. And not only that, but sometimes they're using double or even triple coverage on him. I don't know how they ever conceived of such a wild concept as that, but hats off to them. I guess sometimes even the craziest ideas end up panning out."
"Too bad we didn't think of that, huh?"
"Yeah, too bad."
"Well, I guess I'll get going. Talk to you later."
"OK. I love you, Lovie."
"Uh ... OK, Ron. I really have to go now. Bye."
and number 2
The Seahawks are to be commended. For winning the NFC championship, yes, but even more because they didn't give Mike Holmgren a Gatorade shower at the end of the game. I'm hopeful this will put a stop to the played-out NFL tradition of dousing the head coach after each and every remotely meaningful victory. But if it does continue, there should at least be some consistency with it. Win a big game? Fine, dump a cooler of water on your coach. But if you lose, the coach should get tasered or hit in the back with a metal chair or at the very least have toilet water dumped on him. Not only would it provide some consistency to the practice and raise TV ratings, but more importantly it would increase the level of coaching in the NFL -- because no head coach would want to risk the ceremonial end-of-game tasering.
No More Xbox
Seems I wasn't the only one to lose an electronic device close to my heart this weekend. I join Ret in a moment of sorrow over something dear to us.
So Friday night I sit down to enjoy a few moments/hours of Xbox. Midway through a riveting baseball game which I'm losing my Xbox first locks up, then makes crazy noises, then sounds more demon possessed than Emily Rose. It finally makes a couple crackle noises and locks. I play with it, unplug it, try to restart it and finally realize its dead. Gone. Finito. With my game inside. So after the successful surgery to remove the game I am now without a gaming system for the first time in forever. I know, I'm 29 and I should grow up.
What used to be an excuse to hang out with kids has been quite a past time for me. A great way to relax--except when I'm losing or can't pass a particular level, a way to bond with my son--so what if he's not quite 3 and only wants to "push the geen button daddy"? I will not be getting a new one anytime soon. We have car insurance and bills and food to buy. I'm going to be traveling a lot anyway. But someday.
Last night Carter was asleep, Ang was watching one of her shows and I was unaware that Kobe was going for 81. And all I wanted to do was play Xbox. I settled for reading a book. It was boring.
So, so long "to snow me is to love me"--you were a thorn in my side. And so long Xbox, you were a great ministry tool. Here's to a better use of my time...any bets on how long till I get a new one? (talk with my wife first!!!) And beware, you're electronics may be next.
So Friday night I sit down to enjoy a few moments/hours of Xbox. Midway through a riveting baseball game which I'm losing my Xbox first locks up, then makes crazy noises, then sounds more demon possessed than Emily Rose. It finally makes a couple crackle noises and locks. I play with it, unplug it, try to restart it and finally realize its dead. Gone. Finito. With my game inside. So after the successful surgery to remove the game I am now without a gaming system for the first time in forever. I know, I'm 29 and I should grow up.
What used to be an excuse to hang out with kids has been quite a past time for me. A great way to relax--except when I'm losing or can't pass a particular level, a way to bond with my son--so what if he's not quite 3 and only wants to "push the geen button daddy"? I will not be getting a new one anytime soon. We have car insurance and bills and food to buy. I'm going to be traveling a lot anyway. But someday.
Last night Carter was asleep, Ang was watching one of her shows and I was unaware that Kobe was going for 81. And all I wanted to do was play Xbox. I settled for reading a book. It was boring.
So, so long "to snow me is to love me"--you were a thorn in my side. And so long Xbox, you were a great ministry tool. Here's to a better use of my time...any bets on how long till I get a new one? (talk with my wife first!!!) And beware, you're electronics may be next.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Service
I find it funny (ironic) that so often the good we do goes unnoticed while our screw ups are seen by all. It turns out that we spend an awful lot of time trying in discreet and "humble" ways to tell people about our good deeds. Meanwhile our mistakes spread like wildfire.
Wednesday night at youth group we were talking about David and Bathsheba, about sin that we try to cover and simply how there are times we think we get away with something only to find out it was either seen by someone or God simply uses pure hearted people to convict us. One of the questions for our group was Have you ever done something bad and thought you got away with it, only to later get in trouble." Their answers were somewhat revealing and at times entertaining but I had one of my own that for the sake of time I didn't share. Time is no object here, in fact that's why you're here at this blog, to waste time so here goes. For some of you, this is a repeat story.
It was my 6th grade year and I don't remember much about it except this particular story and one other, where during the first month of school we were playing kickball and a kid on my team dropped a fly ball. Being a mature Christian at my wonderful Christian school I turned to him and simply exhorted him with the words: "You freaking suck." Turns out the encouragement aspect was missed and next thing I knew I was spending each and every recess alternating between sitting on the wall outside our classroom and spending the other sitting in the office (where I consequently learned all sorts of gossip about the school by simply pretending to not listen--secretaries can be quite chatty at times....more about the office in a minute).
Anyway, I had a teacher named Mrs. Davis. She was a witch. Seriously. This woman I'm quite sure spoke with Satan on a daily basis and had some sadistic desire to make young boys angry. She was an unfair grader, totally favored girls (her daughter was in the class--another detail we shall soon return to), and was just mean. She even looked like a witch and it was quite easy to draw a witches hat on her and by simply adding a wart to her nose would have scared even Wes Craven.
I honestly don't remember why I finally became militant. I don't know what actual situation caused the breaking point but somewhere in there me, my friend Andy (who's dad was the guidance counselor) and our buddy Wes all dreamed up our perfect retaliation for a school year of oppression.
At a predecided time during a lecture, when Mrs. Davis-witch turned her back to write on the chalkboard we would simultaaneously stand and salute her...with just one finger.
Now, there were varying degrees to the emphatic nature with which we honored her. I think it was in direct connection to the amount of oppression and thus bottled up anger which our little pure hearts possessed. I for one chose the hold out the left arm across my body while thrusting the right under it and up giving a sort of ancient cross/not so much cross effect. We executed our plan to perfection and found much admiration from our fellow men and a few snickers. We were safely taking notes/making more witch drawings by the time she sat back down.
Our plan worked to perfection and we had a lunch as cult heroes as all the boys sang our praises and I'm sure created banners in our honor. We were like a modern day Harry Potter and that red head Weasley dude. Minus most of the witchcraft and coke bottle glasses.
For some reason I was called to the counselors office later that day (Andy's dad) and we talked about really nothing and he sent me back to class. Upon my return I found Mrs. Davis to be strangely unfriendly. I do not know why I remember this, but that day our class was disecting owl poop. It's that hairy mess of stuff where you dig through and try to find the bones of deceased mice. Why we do this I do not know. Why they poop bones, hair and all I don't know either, again I missed most of this day.
Turns out Andy's dad had chickened out on calling me on the carpet for fear of his own son. Long story short the 3 of us were again summoned to the office, given a lecture by Andy's dad about how what we did strangely didn't fit in the approved conduct of a christian school and basically we watched as Andy's dad directed most of his wrath towards Andy. We were given 3 days suspension and it wasn't long after that I had to transfer schools because my reputation was, oh less than Christlike might be a little too harsh.Then again.....
So that's the bad. But what about the good? We've been talking a lot this week about our upcoming summer of Know Sweat stuff and we are going to do, I think, a pretty solid evening program. We're diving into the sermon on the mount and talking a lot about service and a life that speaks of what's happening in our hearts. On our next to last night the discussion will land on what we're calling quiet service--serving because its the right thing to do and not for what we'll get out of it or the recognition we might recieve. We're going to hammer into them--and our interns for that matter--that this is really not about us and that some of our finest acts are things that no one except God and those they were done for will ever know about. Our AA wrote an incredible devo about it for the students and her words brought to mind others from a dude I rarely can understand due to his intense knowledge. And I quote:
"Self-righteous service is temporary. It functions only while the specific acts of service are being performed. Having served, it can rest easy. True service is a life-style. It acts from ingrained patterns of living. It springs spontaneously to meet human need."
"Nothing disciplines the inordinate desires of the flesh like service, and nothing transforms the desires of the flesh like serving in hiddenness. The flesh whines against service but screams against hidden service."
::Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline
As I prepare for my life, I'm wrestling with that inner tension between self-righteous service and true service. Service as a life-style. Serving becuase I believe it is one of the key foundational elements of Christianity and doing so because it is a spontaneous response to the human need I see and not becuase I simply feel better or even because it helps soothe the pangs of guilt I feel in certain moments. If only I could get that to sink into my heart and mind then maybe this silly discussion about what is seen verses what I want to be seen doing wouldn't be so necessary.
One final note: I say all that because I just got done signing a bunch of letters for registrations for the summer and at least for me I really mean whatever I say in both the letter but also in the sign off, you know, where we put things like: Sincerely, in his grip, saved by grace, blessings, don't eat ducks, whatever we say. Here's what our letters say: Committed to service. Yeah, I sure hope I am.
Wednesday night at youth group we were talking about David and Bathsheba, about sin that we try to cover and simply how there are times we think we get away with something only to find out it was either seen by someone or God simply uses pure hearted people to convict us. One of the questions for our group was Have you ever done something bad and thought you got away with it, only to later get in trouble." Their answers were somewhat revealing and at times entertaining but I had one of my own that for the sake of time I didn't share. Time is no object here, in fact that's why you're here at this blog, to waste time so here goes. For some of you, this is a repeat story.
It was my 6th grade year and I don't remember much about it except this particular story and one other, where during the first month of school we were playing kickball and a kid on my team dropped a fly ball. Being a mature Christian at my wonderful Christian school I turned to him and simply exhorted him with the words: "You freaking suck." Turns out the encouragement aspect was missed and next thing I knew I was spending each and every recess alternating between sitting on the wall outside our classroom and spending the other sitting in the office (where I consequently learned all sorts of gossip about the school by simply pretending to not listen--secretaries can be quite chatty at times....more about the office in a minute).
Anyway, I had a teacher named Mrs. Davis. She was a witch. Seriously. This woman I'm quite sure spoke with Satan on a daily basis and had some sadistic desire to make young boys angry. She was an unfair grader, totally favored girls (her daughter was in the class--another detail we shall soon return to), and was just mean. She even looked like a witch and it was quite easy to draw a witches hat on her and by simply adding a wart to her nose would have scared even Wes Craven.
I honestly don't remember why I finally became militant. I don't know what actual situation caused the breaking point but somewhere in there me, my friend Andy (who's dad was the guidance counselor) and our buddy Wes all dreamed up our perfect retaliation for a school year of oppression.
At a predecided time during a lecture, when Mrs. Davis-witch turned her back to write on the chalkboard we would simultaaneously stand and salute her...with just one finger.
Now, there were varying degrees to the emphatic nature with which we honored her. I think it was in direct connection to the amount of oppression and thus bottled up anger which our little pure hearts possessed. I for one chose the hold out the left arm across my body while thrusting the right under it and up giving a sort of ancient cross/not so much cross effect. We executed our plan to perfection and found much admiration from our fellow men and a few snickers. We were safely taking notes/making more witch drawings by the time she sat back down.
Our plan worked to perfection and we had a lunch as cult heroes as all the boys sang our praises and I'm sure created banners in our honor. We were like a modern day Harry Potter and that red head Weasley dude. Minus most of the witchcraft and coke bottle glasses.
For some reason I was called to the counselors office later that day (Andy's dad) and we talked about really nothing and he sent me back to class. Upon my return I found Mrs. Davis to be strangely unfriendly. I do not know why I remember this, but that day our class was disecting owl poop. It's that hairy mess of stuff where you dig through and try to find the bones of deceased mice. Why we do this I do not know. Why they poop bones, hair and all I don't know either, again I missed most of this day.
Turns out Andy's dad had chickened out on calling me on the carpet for fear of his own son. Long story short the 3 of us were again summoned to the office, given a lecture by Andy's dad about how what we did strangely didn't fit in the approved conduct of a christian school and basically we watched as Andy's dad directed most of his wrath towards Andy. We were given 3 days suspension and it wasn't long after that I had to transfer schools because my reputation was, oh less than Christlike might be a little too harsh.Then again.....
So that's the bad. But what about the good? We've been talking a lot this week about our upcoming summer of Know Sweat stuff and we are going to do, I think, a pretty solid evening program. We're diving into the sermon on the mount and talking a lot about service and a life that speaks of what's happening in our hearts. On our next to last night the discussion will land on what we're calling quiet service--serving because its the right thing to do and not for what we'll get out of it or the recognition we might recieve. We're going to hammer into them--and our interns for that matter--that this is really not about us and that some of our finest acts are things that no one except God and those they were done for will ever know about. Our AA wrote an incredible devo about it for the students and her words brought to mind others from a dude I rarely can understand due to his intense knowledge. And I quote:
"Self-righteous service is temporary. It functions only while the specific acts of service are being performed. Having served, it can rest easy. True service is a life-style. It acts from ingrained patterns of living. It springs spontaneously to meet human need."
"Nothing disciplines the inordinate desires of the flesh like service, and nothing transforms the desires of the flesh like serving in hiddenness. The flesh whines against service but screams against hidden service."
::Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline
As I prepare for my life, I'm wrestling with that inner tension between self-righteous service and true service. Service as a life-style. Serving becuase I believe it is one of the key foundational elements of Christianity and doing so because it is a spontaneous response to the human need I see and not becuase I simply feel better or even because it helps soothe the pangs of guilt I feel in certain moments. If only I could get that to sink into my heart and mind then maybe this silly discussion about what is seen verses what I want to be seen doing wouldn't be so necessary.
One final note: I say all that because I just got done signing a bunch of letters for registrations for the summer and at least for me I really mean whatever I say in both the letter but also in the sign off, you know, where we put things like: Sincerely, in his grip, saved by grace, blessings, don't eat ducks, whatever we say. Here's what our letters say: Committed to service. Yeah, I sure hope I am.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Grumpy
Today has been a good day. I'm getting a free lunch here in a bit but I still feel like whining/being crabby for a moment. Here's what I have to say.....
1. Church got a new check in system for the kids. It's a computer thing and its slow as a slug. Sunday some of the people had to wait so long they missed the entire music part of worship. Nothing says church growth like hacked off young families.
2. Last night was youth group. It went great and for the first time since we've been here there were girls in our group. However, I missed American Idol. Which leads me to number 3
3. I want Tivo. All my friends have it. "oh, yeah we haven't seen that yet but we've got it saved so we'll just watch it whenever we want". Jerks.
4. I think it might be windy here than in Lincoln. At least there they have silos and that groovy puple and lime green Joker building to block the wind.
5. I got a "I might be taking your old job, what do you want to tell me about it" email today. I hate putting stuff in writing like that and trying to be honest/vague/kind/pc/whatever.
6. We played hoops at lunch yesterday. It was my first time to play in about a month. I think I coughed up both lungs. Of course the first game I get put on the fastest guy. I don't think there is a fatty ounce on the dude and he runs like a gazelle. I on the other hand do not. I would qualify as more of the water buffalo type. Maybe wounded hippo. About 2 minutes in all I wanted to was to a)die or b) suffer a career ending injury. It's now official, I hate fast people.
7. The coffee maker was being annoying this morning and when I pulled the pot (the glass thing not the medicinal herb) out half brew it kept brewing all over the warmer making this terrible mess that is hissing and all. Then I used a rag to clean it up and burned my fingers on the hot coffee. Now I'm to the bottom of my glass and the filter again slipped down and it looks like I'm drinking small rocks.
On a happy note the manchild had a meltdown last night. We went to pick him up from class after church and he lost it. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to see his dog, he didn't want to play with us, he wanted to stay in class and play with the kids. Here' s this big scene in the church hallway because my kid doesn't want to go home. He's the only one crying at pickup instead of drop off. He'll be crying when we have to use that dang computer for check in! The only way we got him to calm down was the promise that we'd have popcorn when we got home. Go figure. Here's to a happy Thursday for one and all! May this post warm your heart and bring you great joy.
1. Church got a new check in system for the kids. It's a computer thing and its slow as a slug. Sunday some of the people had to wait so long they missed the entire music part of worship. Nothing says church growth like hacked off young families.
2. Last night was youth group. It went great and for the first time since we've been here there were girls in our group. However, I missed American Idol. Which leads me to number 3
3. I want Tivo. All my friends have it. "oh, yeah we haven't seen that yet but we've got it saved so we'll just watch it whenever we want". Jerks.
4. I think it might be windy here than in Lincoln. At least there they have silos and that groovy puple and lime green Joker building to block the wind.
5. I got a "I might be taking your old job, what do you want to tell me about it" email today. I hate putting stuff in writing like that and trying to be honest/vague/kind/pc/whatever.
6. We played hoops at lunch yesterday. It was my first time to play in about a month. I think I coughed up both lungs. Of course the first game I get put on the fastest guy. I don't think there is a fatty ounce on the dude and he runs like a gazelle. I on the other hand do not. I would qualify as more of the water buffalo type. Maybe wounded hippo. About 2 minutes in all I wanted to was to a)die or b) suffer a career ending injury. It's now official, I hate fast people.
7. The coffee maker was being annoying this morning and when I pulled the pot (the glass thing not the medicinal herb) out half brew it kept brewing all over the warmer making this terrible mess that is hissing and all. Then I used a rag to clean it up and burned my fingers on the hot coffee. Now I'm to the bottom of my glass and the filter again slipped down and it looks like I'm drinking small rocks.
On a happy note the manchild had a meltdown last night. We went to pick him up from class after church and he lost it. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to see his dog, he didn't want to play with us, he wanted to stay in class and play with the kids. Here' s this big scene in the church hallway because my kid doesn't want to go home. He's the only one crying at pickup instead of drop off. He'll be crying when we have to use that dang computer for check in! The only way we got him to calm down was the promise that we'd have popcorn when we got home. Go figure. Here's to a happy Thursday for one and all! May this post warm your heart and bring you great joy.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Illinois v. Oregon
It was a bad night for the state of Illinois. An even worse day for Oregon.
Ang and I have a little ongoing argument about our home states. Here's the scoreboard after yesterday:
I wish I had put this in writing a while back but I didn't. After I watched Indiana and Duke play in the Big 10/ACC challenge I predicted Indiana would win the Big 10. I think I might have actually been right. SO, seeing as they just beat a weak Illinois team, here's what I've been saying for the past few weeks.
1. Indiana
2. Michigan St.
3. Ohio State
4. Illinois or Wisconsin
So, did you watch Idol last night? I wasn't going to. In fact until last season I'd never watched an episode. Now I'm not so sure Simon isn't one of the funniest men on earth. I mean seriously, he can be brutal but that dude knows his sarcasm. I laugh as much from watching his interaction as from the "performances". Now I know the kind hearted among us will say its mean, or we shouldn't make fun or its depraived. Well, call me all those and more because its facinating. And Chicago, you did not represent well. The first pair of singing twins was good but after that......
Now if Mizzou would just go back to losing basketball games like in the good old days people around here would zip it.
However, Oregon has decided to be complete morons and now the supreme court voted 6-3 to certify that. Looks like the old "death with dignity" bill continues to break new ground here in the great USA. Unfortunately Oregon continues to be pioneers on a bunch of really bad ideas. At least Illinois foibles aren't eternally damning.
http://news.yahoo.com/fc/us/assisted_suicide
Finally a little worthless vent to lighten the mood. As a Pepsi guy, I am annoyed that when people want to get together with you they say something like "let's go grab a coke". I think that is unfair to Pepsi people and besides, most places don't sell Coke anyway. What if I hate Coke and that is offensive to me? Seriously, this is an epidemic in America that needs to be addressed. How about, let's go get a pop(its not soda people). Or to keep things PC "Hey, let's go get a beverage" or the old standby "Let me by you a Grande Carmel Java Chip Frappucino". I mean seriously, any of these would be fine. Here's to calling things what they are "Hey, I'm cheap so lets go to the wanna be Starbucks where they sell inferiour coffee for roughly the same price but just cheap enough I'll go there instead". Okay, I'm done. And yes, I had to repost this one because the first time I spelled Illinois wrong.
Randy: It's a no man.
Paula: No.
Simon: That is the worst post I have ever seen. It was terrible from beginning to end.
Oh and yes, I know Illinois hoops team kicked the crap out of Oregon this year...in Portland so shut up about that.
Welcome to Hollywood Dog.
Ang and I have a little ongoing argument about our home states. Here's the scoreboard after yesterday:
I wish I had put this in writing a while back but I didn't. After I watched Indiana and Duke play in the Big 10/ACC challenge I predicted Indiana would win the Big 10. I think I might have actually been right. SO, seeing as they just beat a weak Illinois team, here's what I've been saying for the past few weeks.
1. Indiana
2. Michigan St.
3. Ohio State
4. Illinois or Wisconsin
So, did you watch Idol last night? I wasn't going to. In fact until last season I'd never watched an episode. Now I'm not so sure Simon isn't one of the funniest men on earth. I mean seriously, he can be brutal but that dude knows his sarcasm. I laugh as much from watching his interaction as from the "performances". Now I know the kind hearted among us will say its mean, or we shouldn't make fun or its depraived. Well, call me all those and more because its facinating. And Chicago, you did not represent well. The first pair of singing twins was good but after that......
Now if Mizzou would just go back to losing basketball games like in the good old days people around here would zip it.
However, Oregon has decided to be complete morons and now the supreme court voted 6-3 to certify that. Looks like the old "death with dignity" bill continues to break new ground here in the great USA. Unfortunately Oregon continues to be pioneers on a bunch of really bad ideas. At least Illinois foibles aren't eternally damning.
http://news.yahoo.com/fc/us/assisted_suicide
Finally a little worthless vent to lighten the mood. As a Pepsi guy, I am annoyed that when people want to get together with you they say something like "let's go grab a coke". I think that is unfair to Pepsi people and besides, most places don't sell Coke anyway. What if I hate Coke and that is offensive to me? Seriously, this is an epidemic in America that needs to be addressed. How about, let's go get a pop(its not soda people). Or to keep things PC "Hey, let's go get a beverage" or the old standby "Let me by you a Grande Carmel Java Chip Frappucino". I mean seriously, any of these would be fine. Here's to calling things what they are "Hey, I'm cheap so lets go to the wanna be Starbucks where they sell inferiour coffee for roughly the same price but just cheap enough I'll go there instead". Okay, I'm done. And yes, I had to repost this one because the first time I spelled Illinois wrong.
Randy: It's a no man.
Paula: No.
Simon: That is the worst post I have ever seen. It was terrible from beginning to end.
Oh and yes, I know Illinois hoops team kicked the crap out of Oregon this year...in Portland so shut up about that.
Welcome to Hollywood Dog.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Safe and Good
Safe: syn. Mediocre. Average. Protected. Guarded. Sheltered. Out of harms way. Unscathed. Undamaged. Riskless. Guaranteed. Cautious. Conservative. Unadvenruous. Impotent. Disabled. Safe.
I remember when Carter was born and one of my biggest concerns was his safety. I didn't want to put him on the ground for fear Luke would, I don't know, eat him or something. I didn't want him near the stairs, near sickness, out in public, in the nursery, anywhere he might be in danger. That was good. It's your job as a parent to protect your child, especially when they are unable of anything but sleeping and pooping.
As he's gotten older I've tried to chill out about that. I confess I'm still bad about it at times. But I'm not as afraid of stuff like that. I find that I don't give a second thought to him on stairs, going outside, being with other kids etc. Sure, a lot of the time the environments are somewhat controlled or I am nearby.
I sat with one of the most influential people in my life a couple weeks back at El Rancherito. I credit him with at least the majority of the reason why my heart for missions is so strong. He had more to do with at least my thinking and probably my heart for it than anyone else. He told me his son is a missionary in Europe, 2 others are spending much of their time in Haiti and the 4th is involved in missions trips on a regular basis. I sarcastically wondered where they got a world vision like that.
I actually said the words to him that one goal I have as a father is to have my kids have a heart like that.
Over winter break we had an event in Florida. We stayed in a hotel in Kissimmee and on the first night a group who'd traveled in a charter bus had 2 rooms broken into. They stole some "valuables" like cash, CD player and cell phones. The leader came to me and actually challenged me saying, "The only way we'll stay here (in the hotel) is if you can guarantee me with 100% certainty our kids will be safe the rest of the week." Looks like you need a new hotel then. Seriously, I don't care if you stay at the Motel 6 or the Westin, you're never 100% safe.
I was reading through my Bible this morning again. I actually pulled out the old school Concordance in book form, not the online one but that book that fills up half a shelf and makes me look oooh so studious. I looked up safe and safely. After eliminating the Psalms and Proverbs and the passages that dealt with travel in specific situations (i.e. Nehemiah and Paul) I was left with strikingly little. In fact when it came to the New Testament it was even thinner. I kept running my pea brain through passges I knew and couldn't come up with much. There's that one about him being with me when I walk through the valley but nothing about safe. The one thing that kept coming to mind (I haven't seen the movie by the way) was the line from The Chronicles. It doesn't have to do so much with us as with Him but it was still interesting.I went and found that and it goes something like this:
"Is -- is he a man?" asked Lucy."Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of the Beasts? Aslan is a lion -- the Lion, the great Lion.""Ooh," said Susan, "I thought he was a man. Is he -- quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.""That you will, dearie, and make no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver, "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else silly.""Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy."Safe?" said Mr. Beaver, "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
I got an email from an old student today. They're thinking about a mission trip but the folks are afraid its too dangerous (read, not safe). I have a feeling they wanted me to guarantee safety which I wasn't going to do any more than I was going to guarantee that elder he wouldn't be offended by One Time Blind again after their opening night. What I found really ironic was the porposed location is the same one I'll be traveling to myself later this year.
Now I don't want to come across as a jerk. Parents have a responsibility I know that. But I do too. I've had the discussion a brazilian times with guys about being more responsible after you get married and then especially when you have kids. I have no desire to leave my life a widow and my child fatherless.
But is that any worse than living such a safe life that that safe life isn't really worth living in the first place?
Now, we have a responsibility to live as wise people. You won't see me walking into maximum security prisions with a"God hates Criminals" t-shirt on. You also won't see me flying on some airline with only a 50% success rate on take offs and landings. And this is no excuse for not wearing a seat belt (though I do that much too often) But come on, how safe is our little sheltered world anyway?
I have to be honest and say that though I wouldn't change a thing about my life growing up, I was very sheltered. I was kept safe from a lot of that "stuff" out there. Somehow though, there is a fine line where we're still to be in and not of but have enough saltiness about us that its actually more "dangerous" for them that we're out there than the other way around.
I have some friends who are getting ready to head to Israel. I have to admit that one of my first thoughts was "isn't that dangerous?" Maybe there'd be a better time. Is it really that important? A couple days later I found out the wife of one of the conference guys has cancer. It's been caught early and after 2 surgeries they were confident they got it. Turns out they didn't. The "good news" is its very treatable and though its spread to lymph nodes they are very optimistic and upbeat about the possibilites of victory. Doesn't sound very safe to me.
I know its probably bad logic to talk about travel and life expereinces in the same sentence with illness and uncontrollable things. But at the end of our lives are we going to want people to say about us "She lived a safe life."? Maybe that isn't that bad, but switch out safe with one of the words at the top of this post. No offense, I think those words suck.
I remember when Carter was born and one of my biggest concerns was his safety. I didn't want to put him on the ground for fear Luke would, I don't know, eat him or something. I didn't want him near the stairs, near sickness, out in public, in the nursery, anywhere he might be in danger. That was good. It's your job as a parent to protect your child, especially when they are unable of anything but sleeping and pooping.
As he's gotten older I've tried to chill out about that. I confess I'm still bad about it at times. But I'm not as afraid of stuff like that. I find that I don't give a second thought to him on stairs, going outside, being with other kids etc. Sure, a lot of the time the environments are somewhat controlled or I am nearby.
I sat with one of the most influential people in my life a couple weeks back at El Rancherito. I credit him with at least the majority of the reason why my heart for missions is so strong. He had more to do with at least my thinking and probably my heart for it than anyone else. He told me his son is a missionary in Europe, 2 others are spending much of their time in Haiti and the 4th is involved in missions trips on a regular basis. I sarcastically wondered where they got a world vision like that.
I actually said the words to him that one goal I have as a father is to have my kids have a heart like that.
Over winter break we had an event in Florida. We stayed in a hotel in Kissimmee and on the first night a group who'd traveled in a charter bus had 2 rooms broken into. They stole some "valuables" like cash, CD player and cell phones. The leader came to me and actually challenged me saying, "The only way we'll stay here (in the hotel) is if you can guarantee me with 100% certainty our kids will be safe the rest of the week." Looks like you need a new hotel then. Seriously, I don't care if you stay at the Motel 6 or the Westin, you're never 100% safe.
I was reading through my Bible this morning again. I actually pulled out the old school Concordance in book form, not the online one but that book that fills up half a shelf and makes me look oooh so studious. I looked up safe and safely. After eliminating the Psalms and Proverbs and the passages that dealt with travel in specific situations (i.e. Nehemiah and Paul) I was left with strikingly little. In fact when it came to the New Testament it was even thinner. I kept running my pea brain through passges I knew and couldn't come up with much. There's that one about him being with me when I walk through the valley but nothing about safe. The one thing that kept coming to mind (I haven't seen the movie by the way) was the line from The Chronicles. It doesn't have to do so much with us as with Him but it was still interesting.I went and found that and it goes something like this:
"Is -- is he a man?" asked Lucy."Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of the Beasts? Aslan is a lion -- the Lion, the great Lion.""Ooh," said Susan, "I thought he was a man. Is he -- quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.""That you will, dearie, and make no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver, "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else silly.""Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy."Safe?" said Mr. Beaver, "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
I got an email from an old student today. They're thinking about a mission trip but the folks are afraid its too dangerous (read, not safe). I have a feeling they wanted me to guarantee safety which I wasn't going to do any more than I was going to guarantee that elder he wouldn't be offended by One Time Blind again after their opening night. What I found really ironic was the porposed location is the same one I'll be traveling to myself later this year.
Now I don't want to come across as a jerk. Parents have a responsibility I know that. But I do too. I've had the discussion a brazilian times with guys about being more responsible after you get married and then especially when you have kids. I have no desire to leave my life a widow and my child fatherless.
But is that any worse than living such a safe life that that safe life isn't really worth living in the first place?
Now, we have a responsibility to live as wise people. You won't see me walking into maximum security prisions with a"God hates Criminals" t-shirt on. You also won't see me flying on some airline with only a 50% success rate on take offs and landings. And this is no excuse for not wearing a seat belt (though I do that much too often) But come on, how safe is our little sheltered world anyway?
I have to be honest and say that though I wouldn't change a thing about my life growing up, I was very sheltered. I was kept safe from a lot of that "stuff" out there. Somehow though, there is a fine line where we're still to be in and not of but have enough saltiness about us that its actually more "dangerous" for them that we're out there than the other way around.
I have some friends who are getting ready to head to Israel. I have to admit that one of my first thoughts was "isn't that dangerous?" Maybe there'd be a better time. Is it really that important? A couple days later I found out the wife of one of the conference guys has cancer. It's been caught early and after 2 surgeries they were confident they got it. Turns out they didn't. The "good news" is its very treatable and though its spread to lymph nodes they are very optimistic and upbeat about the possibilites of victory. Doesn't sound very safe to me.
I know its probably bad logic to talk about travel and life expereinces in the same sentence with illness and uncontrollable things. But at the end of our lives are we going to want people to say about us "She lived a safe life."? Maybe that isn't that bad, but switch out safe with one of the words at the top of this post. No offense, I think those words suck.
I guess I say all this becuase last year I decided to quit missing out on things simply for the sake of safety. I don't think we're called to be safe any more than we're called to be lukewarm. I think we need to simply look at life as risky, realizing things like cancer, illness, hatred and greed know no barriers. There isn't really any foolproof protection for these things. Life is risky, but it is in those risky moments where we're often made most alive.
So here's to living an extraordinary life. Here's to being risky and not always playing it safe. Here's to adding to the portfolio of life things that bring us true joy. And may we do it all for His glory and not ours. And in the meantime, I will make no promises to any parents that their children will be safe. We'll be smart, and wise in our preparation--but we won't with 100% certainty guarantee safety.
One final thought--its not scripture, its just Lewis. But if God is not safe but simply good, maybe that's all we're called to be as well.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Rele-vent
Quick Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with Relevant magazine. I like it and its website this is a different discussion.
It's an ongoing joke with me now. This idea of being relevant. Like most other things it started out as a great idea. In fact there are some who are still doing it but not its more of a catch all word that has been prostituted out in so many ways that nobody is actually clear what it means, what it represents or what it is all about. They simply know that if they use it, if it is said with enough conviction and at the right moment, people will nod their approval. "We want to be relevant to teens so we have after school basketball." "We want our preaching to be relevant so we use...." "We want a young youth pastor, someone who knows teens and is able to be relevant." "Come to Relevant" "We need things to be relevant for our kids." "We like the youth service for our kids because the preaching in the adult service isn't relevant to what they're going through." "I'm just looking for a place where what happens is relevant to who I am and want to be."We want our kids to encounter Christ in a relevant environment." And so it follows the trend of words that once meant something specific: seeker sensitive, traditional,contemporary, family friendly, community aware,evangelistic, purpose driven, irresistible influencers....relevant. Okay, so maybe it isn't quite that bad but its heading that way. And that's all I have to say about that.
It's an ongoing joke with me now. This idea of being relevant. Like most other things it started out as a great idea. In fact there are some who are still doing it but not its more of a catch all word that has been prostituted out in so many ways that nobody is actually clear what it means, what it represents or what it is all about. They simply know that if they use it, if it is said with enough conviction and at the right moment, people will nod their approval. "We want to be relevant to teens so we have after school basketball." "We want our preaching to be relevant so we use...." "We want a young youth pastor, someone who knows teens and is able to be relevant." "Come to Relevant" "We need things to be relevant for our kids." "We like the youth service for our kids because the preaching in the adult service isn't relevant to what they're going through." "I'm just looking for a place where what happens is relevant to who I am and want to be."We want our kids to encounter Christ in a relevant environment." And so it follows the trend of words that once meant something specific: seeker sensitive, traditional,contemporary, family friendly, community aware,evangelistic, purpose driven, irresistible influencers....relevant. Okay, so maybe it isn't quite that bad but its heading that way. And that's all I have to say about that.
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