Back from a long break, with a question

Sorry for the long gap in posting! A spate of sick kids (having 4 young boys is like living in a giant petrie dish), and the busy wind-down at school, left me with a sense of nothing to say.

But.

My buddy Alan sent me an email that sparked a long response, and I thought it was interesting enough to post, and posited a question that I would be interested in any responses you all may have.

I all started when I sent Alan some Calvin and Hobbes comics about snowmen.

Here is Alan's response, and then mine to him:


Steve;

You made my day. Is there no way to get Watterson to draw again????????

-Alan


Alan;

Interesting question.
Let me posit this: if you are a Christian, and you have a talent, are you obligated to use it for the greatest good for the greatest number?

I don't know if Bill Watterson is a Christian, but I have read articles that indicate that he now lives in his boyhood home of Chagrin Falls, Ohio (great name!), and paints landscapes with his dad. He's rich, living an idyllic life, and has turned his back on conspicuous fame. Not a bad life. I would take it, given the chance.

But.

I am a Christian, and live not just for myself.

If it was up to me, I'd put the thumb screws to him, and get him to draw Calviin and Hobbes again, but is that what is best for him? If he was a Christian, would there be any moral weight incumbent upon him to draw it again?

For a real life example, take Tim Downs. In the 80's, he had a comic strip called Downstown. It was GREAT! Smart, funny, a Christian worldview without being preachy, and sydicated all over the nation. He quit, and now goes around to Christian groups and speaks about stuff (I think relationship stuff - what a shocker in the Christian community), and has written some books. He surely thinks that this is what God has called him to do, but as an outsider to that, I keep on wondering if he's wasting a gift that was infusing the general culture with salt and light.

Now, my view on Tim Downs or Bill Watterson is definately colored with selfishness. But, I think the whole thing does raise the issue I started with: as Christians, what is our responsibility in using our gifts and talents for the world at-large?

Talk to you soon,
Steve

Reason # 4,386 why 3 year olds are great

The other day my 3 year old son and I were wishing mom a fond farewell as she headed off to do some errands.
He was doing a typical kid thing: he didn't want to go back inside the house, so he was stalling with all his waskally ways.
In this case, he wanted me to sit down on the sidewalk, so he could sit on my lap and wave goodbye to mommy.

Fine.
Car pulls away, time to get up and go inside.

But wait, dad! Let's look at the clouds! (stalling technique #43 in the Kids Book of Parent Manipulation, 1,256th edition)

Now, here's what got me laughing.

He said - as he was looking up, doing the I-see-the-clouds-looking-like-something thing - "Look daddy! Mashed potatoes!"



PostScript: Every kid has something about them that makes you stop, and wonder what really IS going on inside that head. For Mr. 3 year old, it's the fact that I still don't know if he was innocently making the comment, and it turned out to be so lacking in guile that it was funny, or that he knew exactly what he was doing, and the joke was intentional. If it's the latter option, Yipes!

I am not worthy

As I've mentioned lots of times, I have four young sons. My love for them is an ache, not a warm, fuzzy thing. It is a fierce love. I have had the "Mr. T" attitude of protecting them: "I pity the fool who would try to mess with them".

So now, I am left standing here, realizing just how far my puny love falls short.

I read this, and realize, I am not worthy.

My puny love falls short when confronted with the mighty love of God - the depth and strength of that love, as it reaches out from a greiving mother to the man who killed her children, leaves me with no words worthy of that devine moment.

At times like this, when I see just how shallow I am, how far short I fall, I think of a phrase from a Bruce Cockburn song which sums things up in a visually rich metaphor: shipwrecked at the stable door.

Fascinating...

I stumbled across this, and I can't help thinking that a great novel or movie could be made from some of this.

Check this out.

The resting place of Noah's Ark...

A monestary struck by lightning...

In a nearby city, the tomb of Noah...

Jews, Christians, Muslems all with an interest...

There's a story here. Who will tell it?

Abraham's Test

OK, so here's my take on (one possible reason) why God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and what we can take from it.

God didn't need the test. He is omniscient, he knows everything. He knew Abraham would do it. He wasn't testing Abraham to see if he would.

Abraham needed the test.

Specifically, he needed to know that he was willing to follow God anywhere, and do anything God requested.

Remember, Abraham had a habit of lying to save his skin, trying to short-cut around God to get a child, and generally taking the easy way out of most jams. By this time, he had probably changed, but how did he know he wouldn't bail again when things got tough? God gave Abraham a chance to prove it - to himself.

Abraham walked away from the mountain with a certitude set in stone that he would never run ashamed from God again. He would never lie to anyone to try and save his skin. He had really changed. This was the final proof.

Sometimes I wonder if God doesn't do this to us all - force us to face up to an issue, not because He needs us to, but because we need us to - to show us what we're made of, and what we're capable of. To show us that the change we think we see within us is, in fact, also manifest on the outside.

What do I need to know about myself? At this point, that's between me and God. I know that I am very good at running from conflict, and avoiding issues. I also know that when I do confront things I have been avoiding, things in my life open up.

I need to know what I'm made of.
I don't want to hurt enough to find out.

Where am I? And, a question...

In answer to Jennifers' question on my last post, I am still here, but took the whole weekend off from posting anything. And, being a professor, the weekend is Friday to Sunday (trust me, we do all sorts of deep, professorial stuff during that down time, any rumors you hear that we sit and eat Coco Puffs and watch Johnny Quest reruns is pure conjecture on the part of jealous part-timers!).

I am in recovery mode from trick or treat with my 4 boys - candy central around here!

Biggest joy: watching how much my boys enjoy handing out candy to the other kids in the neighborhood - whenever selfishness melts, life is good.

Question unrelated to anything posted so far: Why did God test Abraham? No, really, I'm serious. What was the point?

I have an idea that is starting to roll around in my head, but I wanted to put the question out there, and see what others think.

Let me know - my thoughts next post.


Also: prayers for comfort healing go out to Tracey and her family on a sad, sad anniversary today. I don't know where the gold is in these ashes.

Too painfully close to home.

Read this, and then walk away.

Sob'ah My Soul: Letting Go

Steve Needs...

I am one needy individual!

Through the wonders of the blogosphere, I ended up at Jennifer by way of Tracey, which led me to Lesslee, which introduced me to a game from Jennifer!

Got it?

Anyway, here's the game: Go to Google, and type in "(your first name) needs". Be sure to include the quotes, so you get that exact phrase, then copy and paste the first ten returns from Google.

I had no idea I needed this stuff! =]

Here's my list:

1) Steve needs a doctor

2) STEVE NEEDS YOU!

3) Steve needs a new v8-pack function. (I am not even going to ask --s)

4) Steve needs help again, please.

5) Steve needs YOUR money.

6) Steve needs you If you are a women and you like to play Ultimate (yipes!)

7) Steve needs you. That's reason enough

8) Steve needs to hurry up! This isn't nap time!

9) Steve needs to find a squirrel hitman. (Now, is that a hitman for squirrels, or a hitman that IS a squirrel? Big difference)

And finally:
10) Steve needs more money. (Especially if it's YOUR money!)

What the heck is God doing?

How much time do you have?

The title question could be answered over the next four days and not come close to being completed. To kind of quote CS Lewis, Aslan is always on the move.

What is refer to specifically this time is thanks to AuntieJean and her comment on my last post. She mentioned reading "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion, and having not heard of it, I looked it up in Amazon. It sounds achingly interesting, but too painful for me right now. What launched this post, however, was the "customers who bought this also bought..." section. One of the other books listed was "Christ the Lord" by...Anne Rice.

Anne Rice?!?!?

Vampire Queen Anne Rice?!?!

I had to check that out.

It turns out that she has written a serious (not just a gimmck to introduce vampires into the ancient world) novelization of a portion of the life of Jesus as a boy - coming out of Egypt, going to Jerusalem, etc.

It turns out she has committed/recommitted her life to Christianity through the Roman Catholic church.

I find this significant. Any time a quality writer of the dark (Stephen King, Anne Rice, etc.) turns to the light, I can't help but wonder if a few angels do the party jig in heaven with a little more gusto. Think of the number of people their writings touch.

I plan on getting this book at some point - she's too good of a writer to not take this opportunity to read her portrait of the boy Jesus.

You know who's on my high list of people I pray will return to the faith they walked away from? Marilyn Manson.

Check out Alice Cooper today, and tell me it couldn't happen.

God is full of surprises - watch out!

I Am Truly Blessed

My life is so good, I don't deserve to ever whine about anything.

Not that I won't - I just don't deserve to.

I spent yesterday (Sunday) evening in the emergency room with my 5 year old son. He had fallen off his bed (a distance of about 2-1/2 feet), and broken his right arm about 3 inches from the wrist. Both bones. His arm was bent at that spot like an extra joint - I still get the heebie-jeebies thinking about the sight of that.

Why am I blessed?

We live 5 minutes from the emergency room.
He was in a room, and getting pain meds within 15 minutes.
Good friends came to watch our other 3 sons so my wife could also come and be there for our son.
The bones were set (radius and ulna were both snapped, and needed to be realigned), cast put on, and we were out of there in less than 4 hours.
24 hours later, he is adjusting, and starting to act goofy again.

How does this make me blessed?

I am not Charles.

Each life will be visited by trajedy - often.
John Irving, in his book The World According to Garp, called it "the undertoad". We all live in a world shot through with undertoads. How we view them, how we respond to them makes all the difference.

I could look at my situation, and say "My son broke his arm! This stinks!! Thanks for nothing, God!!" I could focus on the trajedy, and never get over it. I could blame God. I could allow bitterness to ferment.

Or, I could look for the gold in the ashes - the evidence of God's redeeming work in the midst of trajedy. If you look, it is all around us. You can allow gratefulness to fourish.

Now, if I was Charles (go to the link, and pray for that man), I would probably not be feeling blessed right now. I would be wailing and railing at the evil injustice of it all.

But in time. Even in Charles' life, the gold will be revealed through the ashes.

Right now, the flames of trajedy are still burning hot for Charles and his daughter. But one day they will cool, and the gold will be there to be found.


Related subject:
A good, wise friend of mine recently gave me counsel based on the Old Testament, and the Isrealites.

In many of the writings of the prophets, God admonishes the Israelites for scorning the blessings he has provided for them, and looking longingly towards the foreign gods - the Baals.

My friend then made the connection with us - how we too often scorn the blessings we have been given, and long for something else: a new job, a new house, a new community, whatever. They're probably not really any better, just different - new! improved! reformulated!!

I am sooooo guilty of this. It's embarassing.
I have often commented on this blog how fortunate I am - this very post, in fact - and yet, I keep on looking for and longing for that new, different, "perfect" whatever.

Chasing after the wind.

Vanity. All vanity.


Dear Heavenly Father, grant me the wisdom to see and appreciate the blessings you have set before me. May I bless you, and thank you. Help me to truly understand that one day in Your house is better than a thousand elsewhere. That you have given me bread, not stones. That you are my shepherd, and I shall not want.
Amen.

What I Meant With the Last Posting

I got a fairly thin response to my last post - although, I must say the the one comment I got was excellent, taking the question in a different direction than what I intended (thanks, Tracey).

Here's what I was ruminating on at the time: Anonymous Alan had posted a comment on one of my last entries brining up the issue of justice and the criminal punishment system we have.

I was interested in this, because I attend a church that has it's roots in the Friends/Quaker denomination, and our current criminal justice system was influenced heavily by this group. My understanding is that our current system of putting criminals in a cell to sit until they are set free came about under the influence of the Quakers. The thinking was that criminals would sit and reflect on their crimes, and end up repenting, and turning their lives around. Hence the name "penetentiary" - where you repent and do pennence.

While I can see this as a noble idea, the practical outcome has been Hell. Criminals shoved together with no one but other criminals to interact with. A numbing repetition of days without purpose. Overall, a degredation of the human spirit, and then release into a world that recognizes no change, only remembers past sins.

Woefully missing from our current punishment to crime is the concept of restitution - you break someone's window, you get it fixed. As it now stands, if you are the victim of a crime, the criminal is not responsible to you for anything, they are only responsible to the state to sit for a prearranged time period, and then go free. Everyone involved is left damaged and unreconciled.

What is the alternative? What should happen, instead of what does?

I think we have to start to seriously consider an insistence upon restitution. The victim is then restored, and the criminal is allowed to make the effort to make right what they have made wrong.

So what "should" happen in the example from my last post? Property should be returned. Damages should be paid for. Forgivenss should be sought.

There's more to it than just this - how do you restore an assault victim, for example? But I think this is a start.

Now what do you all think? Is there merit to restoration? How many huge holes need to be plugged in my call for change?

I guess that's all for now.

What Would You Suggest?

Here's a question inspired by Anonymous Alan, my buddy.

A man breaks into a home, steals $10,000.00 worth of jewelry and valuables.
He breaks the TV.
He knocks over and tramples family photographs.

He is caught.

What should happen now?

Not what will probably happen, what SHOULD happen?

Making God Look Stupid

My vote for one of the all-time abused scriptures:
First Corinthians 1:20b - Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

Too many of us Christians use this verse as an excuse for making God look stupid in the eyes of the world.

How do we do this?
Bunches of ways, but I want to focus on one tonight.

Question: Which is worse - taking a paper clip from work, or murdering your boss?
Secular answer: Murdering your boss.
Christian answer: No difference. They're both sin. God sees all sin the same. "All have fallen short..." and all that.

In the eyes of the world, this makes us, at the very least, look stupid, and at worst, makes God look stupid.
If a four-year-old can tell the difference, why can't God?

This is a gross misunderstanding of the concept of sin in the Bible that is parroted by way too many unthinking Christians. It also happens to be the issue I was arguing in the Bible study I mentioned in my last post. 10 guys sitting in a room, and I was the only one questioning the standard Christian line on this.

Now, lest you think this isn't Standard Christian all too often, I have heard pastors on the radio and TV making the same statement about God seeing all sin the same.

In reality, they are right, but only halfway, and by not thinking through the other half, they make God look stupid in the eyes of the world. In my view, this is serious stuff. I am an ambassador for Christ, I should represent Him as Lord of lords, the Alpha and the Omega, not Knucklehead Smiff.

What is the whole answer? God views sin (and so should we) in two different ways: as an issue of salvation, and an issue of sanctification. As an issue of salvation, all sin is indeed the same. All have sinned, no matter how small or inconsequential the sin, and therefore fall short of the glory of God, or fall short of the standard of perfection/purity that God demands. This sin separates us from fellowship with God, and is, in fact enough to condem us as sinners and disqualify us from salvation.

However, as an issue of sanctification, sin has degrees, or gradations. What do I mean by sanctification? Basically, holy living. Our thoughts and behaviors becoming more and more like Christ. Within this aspect, sin can vary widely from taking the paperclip (stealing, technically, but nobody cares, including your boss) to murdering your boss (everybody cares, especially your boss!). Over time, we are to become (think, behave) more and more like Jesus, and our sins will become less and less serious, and less and less frequent. We will become more sanctified, but no more or less saved.

Does that make sense, or sound stupid?

I May Have Done A Terrible Thing..

I've gone and done it.

I've started to let my friends know about this blog.
(Hey, Alan, so good to see you here!)

Why is this a potentially bad thing?
Because I started doing this to get things down in pixels what had up to that time only been bouncing around in my head. It has been a chance for me to as honest as I dare (heck, I even admitted my affinity for sardine sandwiches!) without the fear of the strangely puzzled look you get from people when you have said something totally out there. 99% of you out there have no idea who I am. You could probably glean clues, do some sleuthing, and find me, but why bother? I'm just a blogger spouting off. Anonymity facilitates honesty in a situation like this - at least that's what I have used it for.

So now, when people I care for and respect may be reading this, will I start to self-censor?

I hope not.

There's a bigger question here, though. Why am I afraid to be honest with my Christian brothers and sisters?

In part, it is because that is my personal weakness: I struggle mightily with wanting/needing to be liked. I am sure that once people really get to know me, they will not like me. This is my struggle which has roots deep down in my childhood, and will continue plague me as I strive for healing in this area.

The other part, however, is pragmatic. I'm afraid, because it's true. In any church, there are those that use Christianity as a bludgeon, instead of a bandage (we're all wounded, aren't we?). Jesus could have easily said "The Pharisees you will always have with you..."

For example: I was once in a Bible study where, in the midst of a spirited discussion on a matter of theology where I was pointing out how a common Christian cliche' doesn't really make sense, one of the men turned to me and said: "Steve, no one else in the group has a problem with this, why do you?"

SHUDDER!!!

All of a sudden, what I thought was an interesting discussion leading to light being shed upon a troubling issue was turned into a question of my spiritual maturity. The issue wasn't the problem, I was. Be a good Christian like the rest of the men in the room, and shut up.

Do you think I was willing to take a risk of honesty in that group again? (BTW, in discussions with three wise pastors since then, it turns out I was right, and the common Christian cliche' was wrong)

Oh well, here's to worshipping naked (thanks for the allusion, Tracey).

I'll be the one with the bag over his head, trying to look anonymous.

10 years later...

OK, so I got tagged to do this meme: it starts with what were you doing 10 years ago, and descends (ascends?) from there.

Of course, after thinking about it, I want to break the rules!

I want to go back a bit further. You see, I was going through a box in the basement (I live in southern California AND have a basement - how cool it that?) and came across an old copy of What Color is Your Parachute, a classic career/life guide book. I had written down the answers to one of the surveys in the book, and the results of it. As best I can remember, I went through the book in 1987 or so - 18 years ago - when I was a young sprout of a graphic designer.

The results were amazing.

This 18 year old survey came up with the fact that I should be in a job that values creativity, independence, private times and social interaction, a varied schedule, and revealing truth. Basically, a professor!

Now, 18 years ago, I had no idea I would end up professing - I didn't even make the decision to go back to school until three years later, and didn't get a full-time teaching job until 2000 - 13 years later.

All this to say what?
I guess, just that I spend an awful lot of time whining to God about what I want, and when I want it (now, please, Sir), and yet, looking back God has been carefully and delicately orchestrating amazing things. If I would just calm down and rest in this knowledge, what an even more wonderful life this would be!

So, on with the meme!!

Ten years ago...
I was newly married, no kids, full-time designing, part-time teaching, and TERRIBLY envious of this one man in my church who had my job! Or at least what I KNEW should be my job: a full-time gig at the local Christian University - I'll call it A Christian Most Educated University (ACME-U, for short). I wanted that job so BAD! I whined to God all the time about it. When would he get with the program and give me that job?! Now!! ...please...

Four years later, I got that job...and HATED IT! Let's just say that the other Art dept. faculty and I didn't mesh well. It was no fun. Not at all what I had dreamed. What a dismal dissapointment. Now, let me say that I got along great with the rest of the school's faculty and staff - just not the Art dept.

God, remember all that whining I did to you? Never mind.

Now, at the end of that year, I was committed to leaving, even if it meant going back to full-time designing. But, God in His undeserved generosity, gave me the job I now have (another cool story for another time) - an infinitely better fit, better job, better everything!

Five years ago...
I was starting my first year at New Perfect School!
I was also the father of two boys, with #3 on the horizon, and #4 not even in my wildest dreams.
My gratefulness index was through the roof at this point.
The only melancholy spot was that we had decided to look for a new church, after I had been there for 11 years, and my wife had been there for 6 years. There were valid reasons to look elsewhere, but it was still a sad thing.

One year ago...
I was starting year 4 at NPS, and still loving it! Thanks be to God for looking beyond what I demanded, to what was best for me.
We now had 3 boys, and #4 was cooking...
And, we had returned to our old church! Another long story for another time. Suffice it to say that Horrific Upheaval had left the church in a great place, and we are glad to be back!

One day ago...
I was scrambling to help too many students who didn't listen to the instructions, and so didn't do thing right, and so had to scramble at the last minute to get things done...and I still love it! =]
I was also already anticipating tonight's new episode of Battlestar Galactica! (yes, I'm a SciFi dweeb, so laserblast me)

One hour ago...
I was joyously downloading a bunch of Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer tunes from a progressive rock website - legal downloads, as far as I can tell. So, not only am I a SciFi dweeb, I'm a 70s bloated progressive rock dweeb.
Pray for my wife.

Five favorite snacks...
Vanilla ice cream with walnuts, raisins and chocolate chips mixed in. (Truly yummy! Try it.)
Taco Bell bean burritos. (They still remind me of a special treat with my mom when I was out running errands with her.)
A big glass of iced tea. (Maybe not a true snack, but my almost constant companion.)
A sandwich made with sardines in mustard sauce. (Pray for my wife)
Cold pizza. (Any kind, as long as there are no mushrooms on it!)

Five songs I know the words to...
Karn Evil 9, part I - by Emerson, Lake and Palmer (See, I am a progressive rock dweeb!)
Carpenter Gone Bad - by Bob Bennett (My all-time favorite singer. Look him up, he's worth it!)
The Hokey Pokey (It's late, I'm tired, so I'm going for the easy answers)
It's a Small World (And so do you! And now it will be stuck in your head for hours!! Bwah ha ha ha!)
Celebrate Me Home - by Kenny Loggins (A special song from my first year in college - I listened to it on the I-5 from UCSD to home)

What I would do with 5 million dollars...
All sorts of good, altruistic things.
And an insanely great stereo/home theater system!

5 places I would escape to...
I would just throw 5 darts towards the southwest (Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Colorado), and never look back.

5 things I would not wear...
I, too, like Tracey and The Anchoress, would not wear a dress. (Although, I do got the gams for it!)
"Mr. Rogers" sweaters. (A long story for another post)
Anything I wore in the 80's!
Any jeans other than Levis - they just don't fit the same!
Those lame-o Christian t-shirts that rip-off secular brands/logos ("Be-wiser" instead of Budwiser, etc.). Come on folks, be original, not derivative!

5 favorite TV shows...
Battlestar Galactica (the new one!)
Design on a dime
A Dodgers game
Star Trek, the Next Generation
Stargate: Atlantis

5 greatest joys...
My redeemed life
Wife
Boys
The creative process
Driving in my car somewhere I've never traveled.

5 favorite toys...
My Car
My Mac (Powerbook)
My Guitar (12 string)
My Tools in the Garage
My Boys - nothing is better than playing with them!

Who do I now hand this off to?
You!

My New Motto!

A couple weeks ago, my oldest son and I were talking.

Now, I must say at this point, that #1 son is awfully bright for his age. He started talking at one year, and hasn't stopped except to read and sleep. Off the scales verbally, scary-quick memorizer, and was told by a Sunday school teacher that he has "the gift of imagination". That's my boy.

All that to say that we talk about lots of stuff on almost a peer-to-peer level. He is emotionally 7 years old, though, so there are definite lines not to be crossed.

One day we were talking about stuff, and it led from the function of our internal organs, to focusing on our digestive system, to harmful versus beneficial bacteria and viruses.

See, I told you he is not a normal 7 year old when it comes to knowledge stuff.

In the midst of this discussion, he blurted out an exclamation that floored me with it's innocent insight, and reinforced my belief that he will do something in life that expands our world's body of knowledge. I have no idea what, and it doesn't matter. I just want him to follow the path that God lays before him.

Anyway, this is what he blurted. I am not kidding.

"Every answer leads to a question!!"

If that doesn't encapsulate this glorious, awsome, mysterious universe God has placed us in, I don't know what does.

Good job, buddy.

Shall the poor always be among us?

I ran up against a very troubling situation over the summer, and into the Fall, and wanted to run it by you all, and get your reactions.

This past year, my oldest son has become friends with Brian, a kid who showed up at AWANA (a kids' Bible club thingy), and quickly caught up with his peers on Bible verse memorization (passing a lot of the slower memorizers). He is sweet and kind, and just a great kid. We were happy our son and he were buds. Brian's older brother is also a great kid, and they have both come over to our house to play with our boys.

Now comes the troubling part.
These kids are poor. Seriously poor. Their mother works a bit at a donut shop, we think. When we first me them, she was also helping to care for an older lady in our church who needed live-in care. The older lady ended up needing to go into a nursing facility, and the bottom-feeding sharks - I mean relatives - of this lady got a lawyer to give them control of the house, so Maria and her boys had to move...quickly.

In trying to be a part of helping them, more to their story was revealed to my wife and I.

It turns out Maria is undocumented from Mexico. I don't know if the boys are born here or not - excellent english, with no hint of an accent. Before moving in with the lady, they were all living in one room of an apartment - until the landlord found out, and kicked them out. This kind of thing seemed to be a pattern in her past: moving from place to place wherever she could.

At the last minute, a kind single lady from the church offered to let them stay with her for two weeks, until Maria could find a more permanent solution.

Now comes the really tough part.
In the two weeks, Maria made no effort to find anyplace else. Time went on, and nothing. As it turns out, this is also a typical mode of operation for her. Stay wherever until kicked out.

This put Susan (the single lady) in the awful position of being Scrooge (or worse), and kicking them out. Imaging telling a mother with two kids, and no place to go, to leave. What a terrible position to be put in!

As this was happening, a couple interesting events turned.
As Susan was telling Maria that she and the boys had to gone by the next day, Maria called her boyfriend (what? where did he come from? no one knew about a boyfriend!) who came over and started threatening Susan and the rest of the church. A fine way to endear yourself to people who have been agonizing over how to help you, don't you think?

Susan held her ground, and by the next day Maria and the boys moved out.

Guess where they moved.

Wrong!

They moved in with...HER SISTER!! WHO LIVES ONLY A COUPLE MILES AWAY!!!!!!

I did a spit take with my iced tea when I heard this.
What? She had relatives within almost walking distance, and she never said a word?
You put your kids through this awful scene over and over again, when there is family willing (I assume) to take you in?

I am without speech.

A final bit before I ask some questions of you all.
The people in charge of Helps, or Caring ministries, or whatever they call it, came to Maria with an offer.
They had talked to some people at the Salvation Army, and the Salvation Army was willing to take in Maria and the boys, and give them room and board while they gave Maria job skills training. Then they would let them all stay until they found her a job that would enable her to afford her own apartment.

She declined the offer.

I really want to scream.
Here is salvation (literally and figuratively), Maria. Won't you take it?

Now the questions:
What do you do?
Do you continue to reach out?
What does true help look like in this situation?
Tough love, or longsuffering generousity?

And the biggest question: How did the boys end up so sweet? They are kind, exceptionally smart, generous (with not much to be generous with), good kids. How amazing is that?

My wife and I are committed to Brian and his brother. We will bring them over and fill them with food and love. We desperately want to love them with the love of Christ - so that no matter what happens and where they end up, they will have a time and place where they got bread and love, not contempt and gravel, and the name of Jesus will not be reviled.

Is there anything else we can and should do?
I don't know right now.

I just don't know.

Re: Spinning Wheels

Tracey over at Worship Naked raised an interesting question: basically, would it bug you if your pastor bought a flashy, expensive new sports car? This really raises the issue of conspicuous consumption while in the ministry. I posted a long comment at her site, and decided to post it here as well. If you find what I wrote interesting, check out her original post, and all the comments.

Here's what I wrote:

Good question, Tracey.
A couple thoughts.

First, the Pope is not rich - the Catholic church is. He can't quit and take any of the stuff lying around the Vatican with him as he walks out the door. I see it as an important difference - surrounded by wealth and opulence, and you own none of it.

Second, between the Catholic clergy's value of personal poverty and the Puritan's value of simplicity and frugality, we Americans have been surrounded by an equation of Godliness and meagerness when it comes to personal wealth. We expect pastors to live a somewhat meager lifestyle. Whether or not it's in the Bible that this HAS to be the way, that's what we feel in our bones.

Question: How many pastors refrain from smoking and drinking so as "not to cause a brother to stumble", knowing full well that a biblical case against these two things is weak? We would see that as an honorable and godly thing to refrain from these. Now, what's different about a Conspicuous Consumption-mobile? Knowing what the almost-ingrained expectations we (society) have of pastors, why draw the line here? Why be willing to potentially "cause a brother to stumble" over a car, but not a beer? A beer can be much more discreet. Less real chance of causing anyone to stumble, but harder to impress the neighbors with a beer. Hmmmmm...

Personal story: I used to work at a major broadcast ministry. Let's call it "Thru Grace our Insight has Focus" or TGIF for short. Once a month we would take time to pray for the folks who sent us letters asking us pray for them. Each employee would get 4-6 letters, and we would spend time in prayer for these people and their requests. It used to bug me big-time to read these letters that would say something like "I'm sorry I only could send in $10 this month, but I've been out of work for 9 months, and money is really tight". I would look around the beautifully decorated offices (solid oak desks, explosion-in-a-Laura-Ashley-store decor), and think "what are we doing?".

Did they have a right to spend their money on "nice" offices? Sure. Did it keep on poking me in that "godly=frugal" spot on my brain? Absolutely.

Wouldn't it bug you if the story of the Widow's mite ended by telling us that the Pharisees took the money, and used it to add more pure gold thread to their tunic, as the woman walked away in rags?

Sorry this went on so long - I think you hit on a sensitive subject for me.

The Other Time God Showed Up

Sorry it's taken so long to get to this!

I thought once school was back in session, life would get into a comfy routine.

Hah!

I am now the chair for my department, so I am starting out the semester with lots of meetings, paperwork, and other administrator-type junk. Not awful, but a definite black hole for time.

Now where was I?
Oh yes, the other time God showed up.

It was really the first - it happened before meeting my wife.

It happened like this:
I was up at a men's retreat (at Forest Home, for you So.Cal folks) with my church (EV Free, Fullerton at the time), and had some free time on Saturday afternoon. This was the autum of 1988, and my mom was right in the midst of wasting away from cancer. She was going to die, and I knew that, and didn't want to admit it, or face it, because then it would be real, and I'd have to do something other than run away from it all.

On this particular afternoon, I took off on my own, and ended up in a chapel there on the campgrounds. It was empty, except for me. I sat down, and eventually started to pray. I really dumped a lot of stuff on God. I was as honest as I could be, without crossing my own foolinsh line, and admiting she was going to die. Towards the end of the prayer, I got very specific with God, and told Him that what I really wanted, and longed for, was that He would come and sit down beside me. Not invisibly, or spiritually, but really, truly, physically to sit down beside me, and be there for me.

What happened next, you could call coincidence, but it was too specific, and the timing was too precise.

As I was in the midst of praying this - and I do mean at that exact moment - my best friend, Doug, and another friend, Dave, walked in, came up, and sat down beside me. They did not know what I had been praying, they did not know I was there. Of all the people in the camp, these were probably the two best to come in and sit with me. There had clearly been no one in the chapel anytime recently, and nothing was happening for the rest of the day that would lead anyone in that direction. It was just me sitting there within this short period of time, and them coming in a sitting with me at the exact moment I was requesting God to come and sit with me.

It was clear to me then, and continues to be clear to me now, that God was clearly making the point to me that here, on this earth, at this point in time, He uses mere mortals to be His hands, His feet, His face to others.

God did come and sit down beside me.

He did it in the form of Doug and Dave.

The Bible refers to all of believers as the body of Christ. From that day forward, sitting in that deserted chapel, I don't just believe that to be true, I know it to be true.

We are the body of Christ.

This is a blessing and a duty.

Some book recommendations for Jeanne

In the comments section of the last post, AuntieJeanne had asked for some book recommendations on the subject - loosly - of "is there a God, and who the heck is he?"

Well, I thought about it, and I came up with kind of a reading list. Let's call it the Who Is God Reading List.

Here goes:

First, there's a book called The Bible that is pretty good. =]
Seriously, though, I would be neglectful if I didn't mention the obvious cornerstone of knowledge about God.
However, I would specifically recommend a translation called The Message by Eugene Peterson. It is an excellent translation of the Bible into an enjoyably readable narrative. It is not as word-for-word accurate as most other true translations, but very good for reading, as opposed to studying.
I would also suggest starting with the book of Luke. I like this because you can then immediately move on to the book of Acts, and get the wide sweep of early Christianity all from the same original author. It's a great introduction to Jesus, and interesting history as well.

Next, in keeping with the theme of an introduction to Jesus, I would recommend Joshua by Joseph Girzone. It is fiction, but a refreshing re-introduction into the humanity of Jesus. Girzone paints a picture of a man I would want to hang out with, to follow, to be friends with. I came away with an image of Jesus as no longer carved from marble, but flesh and blood.

Along the lines of dealing with questions and struggles about faith, I would highly recommend anything by Philip Yancey. He is so real and honest in his writings, it's amazing that his books sell so well! His most recent book is Rumors of Another World : What on Earth Are We Missing? A great place to start reading his work.

And last, on the issue of simply does God exist, I would recommend two books. First, Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis is a great setting-forth of the sensibleness of the basic underpinnings of Christianity. Second, The Fingerprint of God by Hugh Ross is a refreshing look at the scientific reasonableness of our faith. He is an astrophysicist that has dedicated his life to showing the scientific reasonableness of the events laid down in the Bible - especially the creation story in Genesis.

Well, I think that's all for now. This list should keep you busy for a week or two!

Let me know what you all think, and if you have some other suggestions for Jeanne.

Remember Me?

I probably have no readers anymore.

About mid-July, I just ran out of things to say for a while.
Life got busy, the kids got sick, and summer slipped by.

I start up school again next week, so I should have plenty of time to blog instead of teaching my students (just kidding!).

I think my next post will be about the other time that God showed up.

Preview: He came up and sat down next to me.

When God Showed Up

The title refers to one of my favorite moments from the move, Forrest Gump. Watch the movie again if you can't recall the scene.

I use this to reference the two times in my life when I clearly felt the mighty hand of God actively moving. Not just an open parking space kind of thing that we often thank God for, but a serious life-altering event.

I'll recount the most important here, and the other later.

The most important time of God's direct intervention was meeting my wife.

Now, I know, lots of people may say this, and you could make a case for all spousal encouners being God-ordained, but mine was a bit too-many-coincidences-to-be-coincidental. When I realized what had happened after the fact, I was a bit frightened by the whole thing. When God shows up, it isn't always tame.

It started, for me, about a year earlier. I was driving and thinking (what I do best, it just doesn't pay well), and found myself thinking about a time 3 years earlier when I declined to take a trip to Europe with my best friend, Doug. My reasons were, in retrospect, lame: I couldn't afford it, I would have to quit my job (they'd never give me 3-4 weeks off), and then I really couldn't afford it.

Why were these lame reasons? Because, 3 years later, whatever money I didn't want to spend was gone anyways, and I HATED that job!! It was the most miserable job I have ever had, and desperately wanted to move on.

I missed out on a rare opportunity for miserably short-sighted reasons.

Thinking about this as I drove, I resolved then and there, that the next time adventure presented itself, I would take it, no matter what.

A year goes by.

I am sitting having lunch with a client (Suzie) and a printing company sales rep (Rhonda). Suzie comes up with the idea for her and I to go to Nashville to visit with Rhonda, tour the printing business, and justify the whole thing as improving communication between the graphic designer (me), the client, and the printer.

I couple weeks later, Suzie calls and says the company has OK'd the trip! They are willing to fly us to Nashville to meet with the printer.

Now, I am a freelance designer, not an employee. A part of me thinks this whole thing could be handled with a few phone calls instead of a flight across the country. Why would they want to fly one vendor thousands of miles to meet with another vendor?

BUT.

This is an adventure! They aren't paying be anything but airfare (Rhonda, the sales rep, is putting us up in her house-mansion-while we're back there), so it won't make me money, but I won't be out any either. It's a chance to go someplace I've never been.

Of course, I said yes.

We left on a Thursday (Suzie ended up not even going - another employee [Michelle] came along). Got in to Nashville for dinner. Friday was spent touring the print shop and seeing the city. Friday night, Rhonda had planned for us (me, Rhonda, her husband - Michelle was visiting friends she had back there) to go out to dinner and see a movie. Rhonda also informed be that she had invited a friend of her's to join us. A friend? Scary words to a single man. That phrase is often followed by the dread words: great personality. Whatever - at least I get free food and a movie!

We're about ready to leave, and "friend" shows up. Her name is Annette, and I am immediately attracted to this woman. We talk, and she is amazingly normal! "Friends" who come along on things like this are never attractive and normal!!

Not only do we spend Friday evening together, but Annette joins us for all day Saturday as well.

I leave on Sunday. Back to SoCal.

I realize something was different and special here, and plan to keep in contact with this woman.

Monday. Annette gets a phone call with a job offer from the man who OK'd my trip. Totally unrelated to the trip - he has no idea we even met.

After a few months of haggling with the job thing, and "phone dating", she gets the job and moves out here.

Six months after we met, I propose. She accepts.

Six months after this, we marry.

Eleven years later, and four boys later, life is good.

Let me back up and let you know what happened to Annette that night. She didn't want to come. She was supposed to go to Memphis that weekend. Rhonda begged her to come to help entertain the "Californians". She changed her plans for the sake of her friend.

After we were engaged, Annette told me that within 15 minutes of meeting me, she knew I was the man she would marry. If she had told me at that moment, I would have run for the hills! She wisely kept quiet.

Could you chalk this up to coincidence? Sure, if you wanted to.
But I lived it, and there were too many things that had to fall into place at just the right moment. For Annette and me, God's hand was clearly guiding and directing things.

One last thing: I had always told people, and myself, that it would take a bolt of lighting for me to know who the right woman for me was. On Friday night, after the movie, Annette and I sat on the front steps of Rhonda's house, and talked for hours as we watched a storm move across southern Kentucky. It was too far away for sound to carry, so we just watched as lightning bolts flashed silently.

I'm Still Here

I will be posting something else pretty soon.
Right now, I'm still pondering something that happend at church this past weekend.
As part of the service, we honored a young man, Abraham Simpson, who was related to members of our congregation. He was killed in Falujah.

I don't know how to put this quite right, but seeing the uniform of this young man hanging empty up front made me very angry.

Angry with politicians who value power, intrigue and their petty little feifdoms more than lives.

The democrats are doing it now, and it needs to stop.

Don't kid yourselves. They oppose the war because George Bush is in charge. Some slimy republicans did it when Bill Clinton was in charge, but not as many in the mainstream of the party. This group of democrats seem to have lost sight of some essentials.

1) Every power play to undermine the war on terror gets someone killed. One of the good guys. Shame on you.
2) If the U.S. is united, no opposition can survive before us. Our enemies will melt. You know it, and they know it.
3) Every power play to cause disunity in the U.S. gets someone killed. One of the good guys. Shame on you.

I am an obscure guy with an obscure blog that no democrat in the federal government should ever have reason to read. I don't usually deal in the political here - I feel me usefulness on the web is in other directions. So, if you are reading this, consider very carefully how it came to your attention.

Could the mighty hand of providence be at work?

Abraham Simpson is dead.

He died so that I could light sparklers with my kids, and not fear tomorrow.

He is a hero.

There are democrats who could be heros too, but it might cost them their political lives.

What a small price to pay if it saves just one Abraham Simpson.

Trust

I was just reading something on another blog, and it mentioned Trust - meaning, trust in God.

This has been a big issue in my life. I actuall made a sign that said "trust...", and put it on the dashboard of my car. I meant it as a reminder to trust God, passengers thought I was telling them to trust me as I careened down the highway.

What does trusting God look like?

I suppose it depends on your view of how active God is in your life.

If God is intimately and actively involved in your life, then trusting Him can take on a kind of wild, adventurous tone. Why not pack up and move to Mongolia? God can protect me there, just like He does here, right? You get the idea.

If God is more distant, trusting Him becomes a safer, more sober undertaking. God has proivided you with certain talents and abilities, so use them wisely and not throw them away for the sake of a risky jaunt to Mongolia. You'll lose your job, for sure. God expects you to be careful. Don't foolishly test Him.

Where do I fall? I think like #1, and act like #2.

Makes me kind of lukewarm, doesn't it?
So, should I be Hot (#1), or Cold (#2)?

Let me know what you think, and why. It would be facinating to me to read what your opinions are on this.

Thanks!

Summer is Busy! and a Big Secret

Oddly enough, this past week has been awfully busy! No time to post much, so I didn't post anything.

I hope to post more this week, but I'd like to start off by letting you all in on my most embarrasing secret.

I have the cushiest job in the world.

Yes, I have to work.
No, I don't make millions - not even six-figures.

But.

I am a tenured college professor at a community college (hence the moniker, Professor Steve).
I work two 16-week semesters, thus I work 32 weeks a year.
This means I have 20 weeks off a year.

I am not kidding.

During the weeks I do work, I work 2 full days, and two half days.
This comes out to roughly 24-30 hours a week.

I am not kidding.

I used to work in the professional world, so I know how hard most people work. That's why I am embarrased by all this time off.
I will not get monetarily rich teaching college, but I reap benefits that money will never buy.
I am home with my boys - alot. I get to talk to them, play with them, be with them. The only way to get quality time, is to have quantity time. I am there for them. Priceless.

I am home with my wife. We interact constantly. We long for more, but that will come as the kids get older.

I get to help with the kids' schooling (homeschool). We get to go on field trips all over.

Now, on the teaching end of things, I teach what I practiced for 15 years, and still do for a few clients. I get to be practical, bottom line, vocational in my approach, which suits me perfectly.

I get to interact with a wide swath of humanity, and try and be a living example of what a Christian looks like, acts like, smells like, etc. It's easy to stand out if you try and treat people as Jesus would.

I am free of the status-seeking ego race of higher education (4-year schools), where reputation, grants, status, theoretical work, etc. rule the roost. A community college is all about teaching people, not puffing yourself up. What a breath of fresh air it is.

I am so incredibly grateful for this job. I don't deserve it. I see it as a priviledge and a responsibility, not to be squandered.

More on some serious aspects of teaching later.

For now: Gratitude Index: 10

Fathers' Day

As I've mentioned before, I am the father of four young boys, ages 7, 5, 3 and 5 months (I don't seem to posess any X chromosomes, alas), and on this Fathers' Day, I started thinking about my role as a father, and any highlights of my tenure as such.

First off, I must lead with the admission that I am a mistake-prone father. I blow it often. Now, not in big, spectacular ways like forgetting a child at the supermarket, or legitimately abusive stuff, but in fallen, everyday-type ways. The overly harsh tone, the disinterested response to an excited story, etc. It breaks my heart to think of all the times I have let my sinful short-sightedness rule my actions with my kids.

But.

In light of this, or in spite of this, I think there are two things I have done pretty well, and I hope and pray that these are things that will last, and echo throughout the lives of my children.

First, I tell them constantly (more than a few times a day) that I love them, and as often as seems appropriate (during a time of crisis or correction) that I love them, and will always love them, no matter what, for ever and ever.

Second, I tell them often (too often, but only because it is necessary) that I was wrong, and I am sorry.

Why I see these two things as so important probably says as much about me and my own needs as anything. First, I want my boys to live their lives in absolute confidence that they are loved my their father. I want there to be no doubt whatsoever that their father has lavished upon them extravigant love (not stuff or things), and that this is absolutely theirs throughout eternity.

It has been pointed out to me, and I see it in the lives of so many, that the image we have of our Heavenly Father is directly related to our relationship to our earthly father. In other words, I am the flesh and blood template that my children use to form their concept of God.

No pressure there.

So, just as Jesus used the parable of the prodigal son to give us an image of a father that loves their children through everything, and is waiting for the opportunity to shower that love upon them, I want my kids to see that in their dad.

What is dad? Dad is love. Dad is also correction, discipline, fun, goofy, and more, but first and foremost, dad is love.

Second, I have read and heard from numerous sources, as well as seen it in the lives of me and my wife, that very few things drive a wedge between a parent and child like unresolved conflict and unforgiveness.

How many of you, even to this day, can recall an incident from your childhood (probably more that one) that make you wish for, long for words of apology and reconciliation?

My kids are well aware that their parents goof up all too often. But, we desperately try to be quick to admit our mistakes, apologize and ask for forgiveness from our kids.

I tell you all, there is nothing better - and I do mean nothing better (some equal, but not better) - than having little arms wrapped around you, and hearing "I love you, daddy, I forgive you." All is well. Intimacy has been restored.

It is never too late to start. Words of apology and reconciliation would be a stream of living water in the souls of far too many adults.

I love you, forever and always.
I am sorry, I was wrong. Please forgive me.

This is a key legacy I want to leave with my boys.

Gratitude Index

For today: 8
It's been a good day. Kids mostly sweet. I just finished a game of Nanosaur (computer game that comes with a Mac: shoot the bad dinos, save the good dino eggs) with my oldest (7 yrs), and to see the joy of a child - who hasn't been slimed with all the truly vile games out there - sitting in my lap while we play this game together...it very seldom gets better than that.

[Yes, I know it may sound like a contradiction to slam some computer games while shooting dinosaurs in another. All I can say is, go to a gaming store (or call them), ask one of the kids working there if Nanosaur is too violent and intense, and be prepared for the snickers. It is VERY lightweight as these things go. I refuse to play 99% of computer games - I don't want to get sucked in to that world - short of something with Barney, this is as tame as it gets. Also, boys are hard-wired to want to shoot things, hit things, break things, dig up things, etc. If my son wasn't shooting dinos, he'd be firing a laser blaster at a brother or two.]

I want to talk about the healing aspect of my last post, and how it ties in with gratitude.

The last post seemed kind of like a set-up or trick. I didn't mean it to be. I thought I was going to write about the frustration of knowing you're broken, wanting to be fixed, and then not getting immediate fixing by the Great Fixer. Believe me, I do feel this. Often. But it was interesting to see how the post shifted as I wrote (no notes or outlines for this BlogBoy). I am extremely good at being self-centered, and becoming whiny and self-absorbed about my problems (not the least of them being my whiny and self-absorbed ways) struck me as a luxury. A testimony to how few real, life and death problems I face.

Back in 1988 I got a call from my Dad. Mom has cancer - spread throughout her body. That is a real problem. Kind of burns away the other stuff quickly.

How does this tie in with gratitude? If I can look at my life now, and focus on what is right, what is beautiful, what is good, I think I am halfway to healing on the other stuff. Example: which is going to be more conducive to a good conversation with my wife - looking at her with gratitude that she chose me, loves me, and is committed to me, or looking at her with dissatisfaction that she still has lots of the faults that were there when we married? Good conversations with spouses foster intimacy. Intimacy nurtures love. Love hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things. I become other-centered, instead of self-centered. If my physical and emotional energies are focused on serving another, I don't spend that energy on myself, nurturing self-absorbtion and dysfunction. Conversely, my wife is doing the same. I get what I long for from her, she gets what she longs for from me. Life is good.

Reality check: this is not easy. I am lousy at this most of the time. But, if I can nurture gratitude, I will foster intimacy, which will lead to serving instead of taking. And I am walking the path of real healing a little bit each day, and the fact that healing takes so danged long matters less and less.

My gratitude index just ticked up to 9.

Why is healing so hard?

My wife and I are damaged goods.

We both have faults that could be listed long and often.

We are both painfully aware of when and how we let down each other, and what we should be doing/saying/feeling, but don't.

Also, we are desperately in love with each other. We are committed to serving each other, and sacrificing for each other.

All this most certainly applies to our relationships with our kids as well.

And, most importantly, we are absolutely committed to serving our Lord - following Jesus.

Now, with this as a backdrop, I have these questions: Why aren't we fixed? Why are we still struggling with issues that have been there from the start? Why doesn't God just reach down and fix us, heal us, make us who we know we could be, and want to be?

Here are a couple possible answers we've come up with:
1) God doesn't care. He could do it, but won't. His reasoning doesn't make sense, and it should.
2) God does care, but His reasoning will only fully make sense looking back from a distance, not in the present, and not trying to look ahead.
3) God doesn't work that way. We are outside His control on these kind of things.

I don't buy #3. The bible is too full of His intervention to accept this explanation.
I don't like #1. And, it seems inconsistent with the God of the bible, just like #3.
#2 makes the most sense. It seems most consistent with the God of the bible, and gives me hope.

But.

It does not take away the pain of being damaged here and now. No more character building, please, I'm full.

And.

It shows the level of luxury we live in, that issues of survival are so far off, issues of external peril are so removed, that an average guy with a pretty average job can ponder these things.

What's the missing ingredient in just about everything mentioned above?

Gratefulness.

What a blessing this life is! What incredible graces have been bestowed upon us, that we can be called children of God? Yes, life can be hard. Yes, tragedy touches us all. But yes, we are loved immeasurably. And yes, each day is full of new blessings, new graces, new chances for gratefulness.

Here's my goal for the next week: to end my day with gratefulness, and begin my day with gratefulness.

And in-between? Aye, that's the rub.

I'll give a daily report on this. Let's see how I do.

Disneyland, part II

A couple more quick takes on things at the Magic Kingdom.

First, I would be horribly, bitterly, visciously miffed if I had bought single-day tickets.

We were there for four hours in the mid-day to early afternoon, and went on two rides: Dumbo (I know, I've already thought it too), and a Winnie the Pooh ride. The rest of the time was spent going from one side of the park to the other, standing in lines, and trying to find relief from the heat, sun and throngs. We left to go home and recoup for a few hours, then went back in the evening, with was vastly better - until the parade and fireworks, whose main purpose seems to be to make it even more difficult to get from one side of the place to the other, and then to funnel all available bodies onto Main Street, so walking with a stoller is guaranteed to run over toes.

The only thing that kept us a bit upbeat was the knowledge that we could come back all year - especially in the off season, when life is relaxed at the Diz. We could learn the ins and outs, and get the good stuff down pat.

How awful would it be, to be standing in a line for 90 minutes, thinking "we get on an airplane tomorrow morning, and THIS is how I spend my last day of vacation?"

Bottom line: Disneyland is the ultimate contrast. Fodder for rants and screeds and who knows what else that cry out against the crowds, the lines, the food, etc. It is also - at the same time - the source of innumerable precious memories that my kids will hold on to, just as I do from the times when I was a little kid, and we went to Disneyland.

So, which side wins? Did I have a rotten time, or dear moment?

It all depends on who's eyes we look thorough.

I'm goin' to Disneyland?

My wife's family lives in the Southeast.
My best friend lives in the Northwest.
I'm a teacher - big, fat summer vacations.

We drive a lot.

The past three years have seen us piling the clan into the van, and driving multi-thousands of miles, gone from home for multi-weeks.

Not this year.

This year, we decided to stay home. Ahhhhhhh...
I love to drive, and love to travel, but I needed a break from it, so it wouldn't loose it's joy factor.

So, this year we decided to buy Disney Annual Passes instead, and go to the park a bunch. With four boys, three of which are old enough to enjoy the place, it seemed like a good idea. It still does, but today made it tough.

I was our first full-day trip to the park, and it was everything we locals know to expect, but forget about if we've been away for a while:
1) Hot. Hazy. Smog. SoCal weather at its' worst.
2) CROWDED! The wait for some rides was over 90 minutes! Oh yeah, that'll go over real well with the 3 year old.
3) This was the kicker, the thing that sent wifey and I over the edge.
$10.90 for two fries and two sodas.
I am not kidding.
Oh, and it took me over 30 minutes to get them.

Lessons learned? More on that tomorrow. Right now, I'm still shaking and sputtering from "lunch".

For the sake of Rosemary

A year or so ago, I had a student, Rosemary (not real name), who did something that left me flatfooted, and not knowing how to respond. I want to put out some of my thoughts, and see if you all can give me feedback to more fully respond to her.

Rosemary came to my class, and it became apparent that she was a Christian. A bit reluctant to talk much about it, and a slightly older (mid-20s) returning student, but within the mainstream of a young Southern California committed Christian.

She came to me towards the end of the semester with a serious family matter that meant that she could not complete all the projects for the class, and wanted to see how we could work things out. In the midst of this meeting, I asked her how I could be praying for her, and she let me know that she was walking away from Christianity. Well now. We talked a bit about things, but then later, through emails, I asked her why she left the faith, and her response stunned me into nonresponse.

She said that she knew Christianity was true, but life was easier, and she was happier not being a Christian.

I didn't know how to respond, because I was all ready to be Mr. Apologetics! Defender of the Faith! and this was not an issue of Truth, but of Heart. I am of the last full generation of modernists, where truth is acknowledged as absolute, and arguments of faith center around logical merits, and objective truth. This was all about personal perception, and I was left unprepared.

I have pondered this off and on for over a year now, and here is what I would now like to say to Rosemary (if it isn't too late):
I am sorry for what you have experienced, and what the church has burdened you with. You have been given a hard yoke, and a heavy burden, when Jesus has promised us just the opposite: "My yoke is easy, and My burden light" (Matthew 11:30)
I say this because how could the news that God loves you dearly, has forgiven you - for everything - and wants to spend eternity with you - even if no one else shows up - how could that be hard? How could that make you sad?
It doesn't, of course.
What does is what the rest of us dump on each other in our efforts to "train up" fellow believers. The freedom of the Gospel was, and always will be scandalous. How dare we not earn our salvation, right?
It all comes down to a bunch of "yes, but" things: Forgiven? Yes, but now you have to do ________ if you're really serious about this. You fill in the blank. I'm sure we could all make a good case for whatever we would put in there, but the bottom line for me always comes back to the yoke. Is it easy? Is the burden light? If not, something is wrong.
I really believe this, and let me give an extreme example to prove the rule.
Did Mother Teresa think her yoke was hard? Her burden heavy?
No. Go read "Something Beautiful for God" to find out for yourself.
Would I find it hard? Absolutely. I'm a wuss.
The point is, God chose, and equipped her for that work, and with the Holy Spirit empowering her, it was all joy.
God chooses each of us for different works, different tasks, different gifts (I think I read somewhere about a toe not being an eye, etc....).
So, Rosemary, if you can still remember the times when you felt God's love, God's forgiveness, and God's power, know that it's still there for you. Tell the burdeners and yokers to go lift themselves, and leave you alone.
I leave you with one last image. Go and read the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15: 11-32). The key thing: the father (God) rushes out to meet and re-accept the son (us) before the son can do anything to earn it, just turning back his heart was enough.

God is so much more lavishingly loving and forgiving than we are.

Shame on us.

Speaking of pain...

First off, I am not a big pain person, and plan on this being my last pain-related posting for the foreseeable future. I'm starting to get worried that God is trying to get me ready for something that will hurt! =]

The comments by Tracey for the last post reminded me of some additional thoughts on the whole subject.
She commented on the need for God's grace and strength, and that got me thinking about how often God uses pain, difficulty, adversity, etc. to work on us: get our attention, further refine us, build character.

In the midst of going through something crummy, I have often thought: God, please no more - I have enough character for now, really.

And that reminded me of my reaction after watching the movie Amadeus (way back when it was in theaters!). I was struck with an overwhealming thought as I walked out of the theater: Am I willing to hurt that much, to create something that great?

Creative genius - not just goodness, or even greatness - seems to come all too often in a damaged wrapper. We can probably all think of someone who fits the description, Van Gogh? Brian Wilson? You fill in your own choice.

My career has been in the arts, and I have played it very safe. I have never thrown myself with wild, self-desructive abandon into anything. My work is good, but not close to genius.

Am I willing to pay the price? Am I wlling to hurt enough to achieve greatness?

Not yet.

A bit more on migraines

Just wanted to post a bit more on the heart of the issue with me and my headaches.

The issue is: Are they worth it?

Is a life of hot and cold better than unnoticable sameness?

As I sit here and write, I feel fine. No pain, not much of anything. The room is comfortable, my body is not creaking and groaning, I'm fine.

But...

I'm not feeling that deliciousness that I do when the headaches leave - and I miss it.

If I could take a pill that would completely irradicate all future migraines - and consequently irradicate all future "deliciousness moments" - would I do it?

Absolutely.

And that saddens me a bit. My desire for no pain is greater than my desire for the truly exhiliarating flight of pain. I come face to face with the weakness of the flesh. I, too would be snoozing when my Saviour asks me to stay awake and pray. I, too would be running and denying when the crowd accuses. Am I willing to suffer for Christ? Any suffering I have done is so small as to be almost theoretical versus real. Has it maybe cost me money (lost clients, jobs not taken for questionable compromises, etc.)? Probably, but who knows? Has it cost me relationships? Maybe, but who knows? Has there ever been anything close to life-or-death involved? Not even close.

In America, our vital Christian life dies by degrees of soft, enrapturing comfort. Everything just feels too good to leave it. A little extra work can mean a few extra toys, and a bit more distractions at the end of a long, soft day, and then a nice, soft bed, and then all over again tomorrow, and then...

Where's the crisp, hard focus of a life with meaning? What must I throw away to get there?

There's a great scene in an old Dustin Hoffman movie: The Marathon Man. DH has been tortured to get some information which he doesn't have. The torture is having his front teeth drilled, and the raw, open nerve touched with a live wire. After they are through with him, they give him a bottle of oil that takes away the pain. In the key scene, when he decides to go after the bad guys, and not run away any longer, he throws down the bottle (breaking it) and sucks in a deep breath of air right over the open nerves.

That is life. Clear, hard, crisp, real. No hiding behind the dull anesthesia of distractions.

So, can my migraine pain serve a purpose? Yes.

But.

I have to choose now what to do, when offered the pill.

The blessing of migraines

Am I nuts, or what?

Let me explain, and start with a little background.
I am a pretty even genetic mix of my mom and dad. My outward appearance tends towards mom's side, and the internal workings seem to be more in line with dad. One of the things dad was kind enough to pass on to me was the family legacy of migraine headaches (gee, thanks). Now, let me post an aside here and say that within the world of migraines, I am pretty lucky. Very seldom am I incapacitated - most of the time, my headaches make me miserable, but I stay functional. I am on medication to keep them to a minimum, and thanks to insurance, I have some "magic bullet" pills that zap a headache most of the time (I say thanks to insurance, because the pills cost $175.00 for nine (9) without insurance - yikes!).

Everyonce in a while, one gets through, and I hurt for the day. Up until I started on the meds two years ago, I would get one about once a month.

Now, what do I mean by "the blessing of migraines"?
This: When a headache finally leaves (usually - for me - as evening comes, or for sure by the next morning), it is a feeling I can only describe as delicious. To feel the pain that has been scraping at you all day suddenly just evaporate, or wake to find the pain is now only a memory, is such an incredibly pleasurable experience, delicious is the only word that seems to fit. I can feel my whole body release and relax. Air, light, sounds - all seem fresh and new. Energy returns to my muscles. Hope to my heart.

I only realize this through comparison, ie: compared to the misery I was in, this feels GREAT!!!
Here's the catch: I only feel this way after a migraine. Without the pain preceeding it, the pleasure is lost.

So, are migraines worth it?

I would answer "maybe". If I was still getting monthly headaches, and they were becoming more and more incapacitating, I would say "no". But, as it stands now, a migraine every now and then reminds me anew of the glorious deliciousness of not hurting.

Broaden the context, and you can see how it applies to us all - that this is the way this life is set up. We only experience things as a contrast of something else: hot vs. cold, humid vs. dry, peaceful vs. tumultuous, etc.

God has given us a world of contrasts, a body of contrasts, a soul of contrasts.

So, I can thank God for my migraines, as an opportunity lean upon Him in the midst of the pain, and as an opportunity to discover anew the deliciousness of not hurting.

Is dissatisfaction godly?

I am currently reading a book by Dan Allender, called The Healing Path. Great book! Very good insights, and seemingly well grounded in reality. Anyways, one of the points he is making is that God uses dissatisfaction to get us to move to where/what He wants of us. We humans will stay where it's comfy until we get poked enough to heave ourselves out of comfort, and into adventure.

I hope that's what is going on in my life. I have a great job, live in beautiful So. Cal., live in a great neighborhood, in a house that needs work (built in 1924), but overall is excellent . . . and I ache to get out of here!

The problem is that I am a huge chicken when it comes to this kind of thing. So I'm stuck: I want out, to a quieter, more rural life for my family, but I am also paralyzed by the fear of the unknown. And, I desperately don't want God to "urge" me out! God's urgings in things like this usually involve something that will make a great testimony later down the line ("...I came home one day to find my whole family had been sold on ebay!...")

So, for now, all I know is I want out. My prayers are for wisdom and courage as I walk this path with my family.

More on this later...

It's all about ME!

I got this from the Anchoress, and decided to do it myself.
Please do the same, and link in the comments section!

A is for Age - 44
B is for Booze - Don't like it enough to bother.
C is for Career - Husband, Dadddy and Community College Professor
D is for Dad’s name - Gerry
E is for Essential items to bring to a party - My wife, so I have at least one person to talk to.
F is for Favorite song at the moment - Anything by Bob Bennett (www.bob-bennett.com)
G is for Goof off thing to do - Drive: Far and fast. Or, read: novels. Better yet: both!
H is for Hometown - Whittier, Calif.
I is for Instrument you play - Guitar
J is for Jam or Jelly you like - Pineapple-Apricot
K is for Kids - Four boys (7 and under)
L is for Living arrangement - One story, three bedroom, 1 bath (getting a bit tight on space)
M is for Mom’s name - Marian
N is for Names of best friends - Doug, Jay, Alan, Pat - these are the guys I could call at 3 am, and they would be there for me.
O is for overnight hospital stays - One. I was about 5 years old, and had pneumonia. I also stayed with wifey-poo when our kids were born, but those were her stays, not mine.
P is for Phobias - gooey, slimy animals: If I fell into a pit of sea slugs, I would rather die than live with the memory of doing that.
Q is for Quote you like - "You know what the problem with life is? Boredom! You know what the solution is? ADVENTURE!!" - from the movie Never Cry Wolf
R is for Relationship that lasted longest - My best friend Doug - since high school (1976).
S is for Siblings - Two sisters and one brother
T is for Texas, ever been? - Yes. Even slept on the beach in Galveston once. A long time ago, in a life far, far away...
U is for Unique trait - I am the world's BEST parallel parker...really.
V if for Vegetable you love - What else? Garlic!!
W is for Worst trait - I wait til just past the last minute to do things.
X - is for XRays you’ve had - teeth, head, chest
Y is for Yummy food you make - I married a girl from the South...I don't have to cook!
Z is for Zodiac sign - The only star that has made a lasting impact on me is the one over Bethlehem 2000 years ago.

It's all worth it

I have no idea who reads these postings, but if you do, check out the comments and back-and-forth postings below between myself and AuntieJeanne. This is the reason I'm here.

They'll Know We Are Christians by Our...what?

The semester is almost over.
I teach at a local Community College (a great job I don't deserve - note to self: post in the future on your job, file under "cushy"), and I am often struck by a surprising aspect of my job: as a Christian, it is stunningly easy to be a light in a dark place.

I always thought I would love to teach at a Christian college/university - what better place to live out your faith than surrounded by fellow believers? I did teach for one year at one, and it wasn't a very good fit (more on that later, maybe).
On the heels of that, I got my current job, and have basked in the glorious job that is Community College teaching.

It is a "secular" campus, filled to the brim with "heathens" adorned with piercings, tattoos, and every now and then, some clothes. Lots of international students - mostly from asia. And finally, the campus is crawling with tenured faculty who can't get fired unless they eat one of their students.

What this all adds up to is a place where the sins of pride, arrogance, apathy and the like abound. And, because of this, I have found that if you just treat people with what I would call basic decency, it is often seen as astounding kindness.

Example:
I teach graphic design, and during "critiques" - a public analysis and evaluation of student projects - I will not berate or degrade or belittle a student. I will not at any time intentionally humiliate a student (in public or private).

What I find is that these kinds of "basic decencies" stand out and are noticed. And with some, questions start to be asked: Why is he different? What makes him tick? etc.

Do these students know I am a Christian by my theology? my doctrine? even by my faith? No.

They know I am a Christian by my love.

Where was I?

I did a bad thing.

At least for me, it was bad.

I put a webcounter on this blog, and started caring about, and looking at, how many people were reading this.

Bad move.

No longer was I writing and trusting God to bring eyes that could use what I wrote. Now, I was trying to take controll.

Bad move.

We have a jealous God. He doesn't particularly want to be shoved aside so we can "do it better".

There's lots I still want to say, but it's late, so I will be back in a day or two.

I am back to trusting.

Flower Petals for ZuZu

On my last post, I raised the question of whether you would re-live your life if you could. More specifically, if you could wake up tomorrow, and find yourself 7 years old, but knowing all you know now, would you do it?

I'm sure all the reasons that this is so intriguing to me would require a skilled counselor, but this question/daydream has popped up on a regular basis for much of my adult life. Usually, I spend the time thinking about things I would have done or not done, people I would have spent more time with/less time with, etc. But recently, I was pondering a separate issue that, I think, will put the issue to rest for me.

First off, the strongest reason to want to go back: My mom would still be alive today. Probably.

My mom died of ovarian cancer in 1989, at the age of 61. She was way too young and vital and fun to have died otherwise, and has left a mom-shaped hole in my heart that nothing can fill (nor should it - God doesn't make replaceable people). If I woke up, and was 7 again, I would be spending a significant amount of time convincing my parents that I knew what was going to happen ("trust me, a peanut farmer from Georgia will be president in less than 10 years!"), and that they should find a doctor willing to do a full hysterectomy as soon as possible - I'd reimburse them with the money I would get with some well-placed venture capital to some kids in the bay area ("Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, here's my Dad's life savings. Cut us in for 25%"). A hysterectomy at that age would ensure that cancer had not had time to get out of the ovaries, if it was there yet at all. Given the chance, I'll take my mom back. She never got to hold her grandchildren. Never got to tell my wife what a yummy pumpkin pie she makes. Never got to go all those places she and my dad were going to go once he retired. Too many nevers...

And actually, this leads to the other side of the equation. Could I change only the things I wanted to, or would my life careen too far in other directions to end up here? What got me thinking seriously along this thread was the occasion of the birth of my 4th son in January (no girls. game over. 4 for 4 and done). As I looked at him, and then his brothers, I really thought about them - the unique individuals that they are. How did they get here? (Yes, I know how they got here - had it figured out even before the first was born). I mean, they come from the same gene pool, and yet are vastly different. And then, I started really thinking about the astounding odds involved in each of their existences.

For each child, there were - let us say - multiple attempts at conception, but only one that was successful. With each attempt, millions of unique, individual sperm cells were all rushing to find an egg. When an egg was found, only one sperm cell was allowed in to complete the fertilization process, which would ultimately lead to development and birth. So, each of my boys is literally one in a multi-million, and precious beyond measure.

Now, here's where it gets tricky. Let us say that I could successfully negotiate my "life-over" to get me to the point of marriage to my darling wife. What are my chances of getting the same 4 sperm cells to fertilize the same 4 eggs? Beyond impossible. I know that the children of this do-over would be precious, wonderful, special, etc. I would love them fiercely and dearly. But. They wouldn't be my boys that I have now, and remember, part of the deal here is that I know the life I had lived, and was able to alter it so my mom didn't die of ovarian cancer, so I would know of and remember those guys.

Even sitting here and writing those words fills me with an ache in my chest. I could never - will never - turn my back on my precious children, sacrificing them on the altar of selfishness.

On the day that my Lord call me to my true home, my mom will be there, welcoming. She will have been waiting longer than she would have wanted, but after a couple thousand years of holding my hand, she'll get over it (We can talk about the nuts and bolts of Heaven sometime later).

Let me end with a word-picture of our lives: You're driving down a road in the fog, and drive over a wooden bridge. Immediately, the fog lifts, and you stop and look back. The bridge you just drove over is made entirely of toothpicks placed in an interlocking pattern that will collapse if even one is removed. There is only One who is skilled enough to put this bridge together: any attempt to improve upon the design will ultimately result in collapse.

George Bailey never knew how much he would miss ZuZu's flower petals, until they were gone.

Sorry for the lapse in posting

No real good excuses why I haven't been posting.
I thing my last posts threw me - I had a thought that sounded good in my head, but when I wrote it down, it started sounding more and more like I was a knuckle-dragging jerk.

Oh well.

My knuckles don't drag.

I have a post coming up next (too late to write it all now) about the following:
If you could wake up tomorrow, and be 7 years old, with your whole life to re-live, would you do it?
Why or why not?

Any comments would be coveted. I think I know what I would do, but the dilemma is significant. I'll explain next post.

Emperor's Clothes, Pt. 2

I kind of left the previous post without a good or satisfying conclusion. Maybe there isn't one.

I guess the final point or solution is to strive for a re-awakening of the idea of beauty as something transcendant - meaning not just dictated by current whim or fashion. Then, choices for clothing/hair/etc. would be made based on comparisons to the ideal, not the trendy.

I realize I am on incredibly shaky ground here, and have probably alienated what few readers I have, but I just wanted to explore this idea, throw it out, and see if anything comes back, good or bad.

What say you? Do I have a point, or am I just a jerk who doesn't understand?

The Emperor's Clothes

This is probably going to be the most inflamitory post I will ever make.

Ready?

I want to talk about women's fashion.
My point is this: as a college professor, I see lots of young women wearing clothes/hair/etc. reflecting current average-young-person fashion, and for the most part, it's awful. By awful, I mean that it makes the person look terrible. The current awful look is low-cut jeans with short t-shirt. Why is this awful? Because, for a high percentage of women, this means that we all get to look at their stomach and upper hips hanging over their pants - not unlike your average plumber.

Why do they do this? Why wear clothes that intentionally accentuate an unattractive aspect of their bodies?

Because the pretty girls wear it.

We live in a world that intellectually denies trancendent beauty, while we all inherently respond to it. Fashion designers are infected by the same nihilism as the rest of society, and don't actively pursue "beauty", instead opting for "new" and "different". So, instead of stepping back and realizing their work is ugly or unflattering, they go on strving after more new and different and "cutting edge".

How can they get away with this? They put thier stuff on models. Pretty girls.

If someone is inherently pretty/lovely/beautiful/attractive, they will look good in just about anything. It doesn't matter if the clothes/hair/makeup is itself unattractive, because the beauty of the person will shine through, and impart that beauty to the clothes/hair/makeup. Thus, the top few percent of "elite beauties" can get away with wearing anything, and making anything look attractive to the rest of us.

That leaves the majority of young women faced with "fashionableness" meaning wearing something that looks terrible on them.

I grieve for young women these days. What a terrible dilemma to be in.

First Things

I start a new semester today. I have a ridiculously cushy work schedule - more on that for a different post on work ethics.

The question that I consider now is this: what's my first priority as a professor?

My natural response is "don't mess up so badly that no one takes your classes ever again!" (I have issues with insecurity, fear of failure, desprerately wanting to be liked, etc). I have to fight against these tendencies if I have any hope of doing more than cashing a check and doing my time here.

I've found that the thing that transforms my teaching from a performance of my own making to something more, deeper, is to change my motive. My ongoing prayer for the duration of the semester is that - first and foremost - I would be a pleasing fragrance for Christ to my students. They'll get the nuts and bolts just fine, and learn the craft. What they need above and beyond that, however, is a glimpse of a way to live other than the nihilism of the secular campus.

May my life reflect the healer of my soul, and allow hope and love to shine a bit.

Update: I just need to say that I looked back at this post, and thought I sounded awfully good! In reality, I fall way short all the time, and mess up more times than I would care to say.

Sin is like smog

I live in the LA area, so I know all about smog. I was born and raised here, so I remember when the air quality was actually worse than it is now (thank you, emission standards!). But still, we do have some pretty smoggy times down here.

A few years back, I was in a bible study, and we were talking about sin, and the insidious nature of it, and how it can ensnare us so easily, without our truly realizing what is happening. Over the course of the conversation, I came up with an analogy that is straight from the LA basin.

We have local mountains here that rise very high very quickly, so you can go from tanning at the beach to skiing down the slopes in one day and still have time for a movie and dinner back home. This also means that you can see the "lowlands" clearly on your descent from the mountains. On most days - especially if you are heading down in the afternoon - you see a striking scene: where you are, there is a clear blue sky, and visibility for miles and miles. Where you're heading, there is a solid light-brown sea of smog. You can't see the lowlands through all the smog. It looks like fog, or cloud cover when you are flying, but it is really, truly, smog in the LA basin.

Yuk.

Your first thought is always the same: no way am I going down there! I will die a horrible, choking death is seconds. But, you head down anyways, because that's where you live.

Now, here's the other striking thing: you never hit the smog.

You get home, and things seem just like you left them. You are breathing just like you did yesterday, and the day before.

So what happened to the smog? It's still there, it's just that the descent into it was so gradual, that you didn't even realize when it happened. Your body adjusted, your eyes adjusted, and all seemed normal.

This is what sin is like. Very seldom do we jump from the clear air of purity into a thick, globular morass of sin. Usually, we subtly, slowly ease into it without truly realizing what we are doing. The air seems fine down here, thank you. Sin, what sin? Leave me alone.

Only when we are lifted back up into the pure air through repentance and forgiveness are we able to look down at where we were living, and see the "smog" of sin.

What are we to do? Repent early, repent often. Forgiveness is always waiting for you. You won't know how much you needed it until after the fact when you look back down.

The yoke's on me

Bad puns R us!

Anyway, back to the topic of Christianity being an easy yoke, a light burden.

What does Jesus mean? Elsewhere, He talks of persecutions, suffering. If we look at His own path, the suffering was immense. So, it can't mean the physical events of this life - bad things do happen to good people. In fact, they have to - otherwise, following Jesus would deteriorate into a kind of "get out of jail free" faith. Believe so life will be easy and pain-free! God wouldn't have our hearts, just be our contingency plan.

Then what was the burden? The yoke?

The religion of the Pharisees.

I put it this way, because I don't want to confuse what the Pharisees were doing with the Jewish faith. It was like a thick coating of man-made junk put over the top of Judiasm. Law upon law, rule upon rule, burden upon burden, yoke upon yoke. A life dominated by the dictates of those who made it their profession to follow those dictates, while the average working person had no hope of being able to devote the time and energy needed to "measure up".

Jesus hated this.

It's clear to me by His statements to and about the Pharisees. I won't repeat them here, but He called them "sons of iniquity" for starters.

Then what was Jesus' yoke? His burden?

"I love you. Come to me. Rest. You are forgiven."

So, my former student, who walked away from the Christian faith because it was too hard, walked away from what? It certainly wasn't the words of Jesus.

We, the Christian community, have become the Pharisees, with our official and unofficial lists of what a "good Christian" should be (don't drink, don't smoke, don't watch The Simpsons, whatever...). You could probably write out a list of "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" from your own experience. Some biblically defensible, but really, bottom line, a thick coating of man-made junk laid over the top of "I love you. Come to me. Rest. You are forgiven."

God was courageous enough to give us the freedom to walk away, or walk to Him. Why do we insist upon junking this up?

Is there more to the Christian life that this? Certainly. But let us let that be the work of the Holy Spirit and the Scriptures upon each of our hearts.

We would each be a bit messier on the outside, but probably a lot cleaner on the inside.

An easy yoke? A light burden?

More on this later, but I wanted to start my mind spinning on this one.

Jesus said that "My yoke is easy, My burden is light" (paraphrase, close enough for late posting).
Living within the Christian community, all too often, this phrase seems a million miles away from what we are asked - by others - to do. I had a former student talk to me once about the fact that they were walking away from the Christian faith. When I asked why, the answer was not what I expected. I was ready for a debate on the validity of the claims of Christianity, and instead, I was told that life was just easier not being a Christian. Relying on oneself made them happier.

How do you argue against this?

It's not a matter of propositional truths - it's a matter of personal experience. Someone in my students' life made the yoke hard, and the burden heavy.

Shame on them. Shame on us.

Can the Christian faith be an easy yoke, a light burden?

More later. Comments more than welcome.

Howling at the wind

I know, I know, mixing metaphors. But it fits the point I want to make.

Is anybody reading this? By this, I mean this site, not just this post.
I've only told a few friends (very few) about this, so it's really up to random chance if anybody will read what I've written.

Now then, two questions arise from this: Is it worth it to write to (potentially) nobody? Is it random chance that would lead someone here?

The second question first. Answer: I don't truly know, but I think not. Being an orthodox (not Orthodox) Christian, I believe that God is in control. Of everything. Always. Yes, that raises a TON of issues regarding Tsunamis and parking tickets, but ultimately, it provides a solid foundation for secure reasoning. If one thing is random, then anything could be random, then nothing is secure - including God's love - which means that a lifetime of dedication/work/devotion could be vaporized by randomness. "Sorry! You were supposed to make it to Heaven, but oops! Tough luck old chap." There is offered to us security and certitude. There is an ultimate order and sense to things, even if we don't see it on this side of life.

So, to anyone reading this: Welcome, you were expected. I wrote this just for you. I hope it helps.

I guess that answers the first question also.