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.