Rock - Paper - Scissors - Grow

Note: If your reading this from outside Michigan, I should point out that “SHAPE” is an acrostic from a series on finding your fit in service/ministry that we've been working through the last couple of months on Sunday mornings. Tonya has posted more on this – so her blog might be a better place to start.

S.H.A.P.E
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Spiritual Gifts, Heart, Ability, Personality, Experience
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Throughout the SHAPE series, I've been struck by how much my I've focused on “Ability” and “Experience” when trying to see where I fit. In fact trying to identify what my “Heart” was turned out to be easier said than done. As I've gotten older and had opportunities to see myself and others in ministry, “Personality” gaps were already on my radar … but I've nearly always clung to maxims like: [I do ‘x’ professionally, so my ministry must be ‘y’]. Worse yet – and this is what gets me to the Rock-Paper-Scissors thing – are the sorts of internal billboards that announce: [Chad is … “___”]. More on that shortly.

In my professional life, I've been having a look at ‘Mindset’ by Carol S. Dweck, Ph.D. It’s the sort of book I’m expected to read now and then to demonstrate continuing development - and I’ll be honest, is hitting the reading list in November (just before Annual Review time) for all sorts of the wrong reasons. I’m much more likely to read about Throne Wardens and secret organizations like N.I.C.E., but from a whole-life perspective this is coming along at just the right time. Dweck’s assertion is that we all interpret our own intelligence/abilities – and therefore our potential actions, success, shame, and relationships from either a FIXED mindset or a GROWTH mindset.

The differences between these two Mindsets has been summarized (much better) here; but the following is my attempt to bring it back to the SHAPE discussion:

A Fixed Mindset is one that, like those billboards I mentioned, sees intelligence/abilities as set and immovable. The classic example is the child that is told she has poor math skills and continues in that fixed perspective – never trying new techniques and / or giving up on all but compulsory math for the rest of her life. Once described or labeled, Fixed Mindsets are like Rocks … forever confident in their ability to beat Scissors but always vulnerable to the dreaded Paper.

But it’s not just the negative Fixed Mindset that leads to problems. Dweck points to several studies that show if a child is labeled “Smart”, she is less likely to take on tasks and challenges that might be risky or unsuccessful … and therefore cause her to lose her positive label. In the end, the ‘Smart’ child learns less and simply remains proficient at the basic concepts. This is exactly the sort of “Hideous Strength” that N.I.C.E. had over its victims in Lewis’ story. It’s also the sort of mindset that limits potential ministry. Objective measures of quality are a means for personal development – not its replacement.

A Growth Mindset then, sees intelligence and ability as the progress so far against experience. The same studies that caution against labeling a child as ‘Smart’, show praising kids for the work they've done towards an answer or task seems to drive accelerated success overall; even when the initial work is flawed.  Peterson’s concept of Throne Warden – a model of servant leadership that drives his “Wingfeather Saga” to a heroic ending – is the sort of mindset shift needed to reject the sometimes accurate limitations we have that hold us back from becoming. It is – after all not enough to see paper, or rocks, or even scissors as simply expressions of their abilities in a children’s game. They are so much more … the tools, and raw materials that build nations and touched other worlds through the continuing creative power of His Masterful work.

That tells me that I’m more than just one dimension of ability – or what I've been ‘good enough’ to do in the past. I’m not tied to certain destinations of ministry but free to journey – to grow, to make mistakes and become more than I can see from here.

The Cave, Remember Your Failure At The Cave ....

The other night, Chan and I watched The Empire Strikes back on Blue Ray.  It was fun to see a movie that I can quote nearly word for word "differently" - specifically, this was the first time I got to see it in 1080p.  If you are not familiar, that's the magic number that translates into a picture so defined, you can see all the actor's blemishes rather than looking like animated action figures and the cardboard looking props for what they are ... not actual space metal.  I was noticing parts of Boba Fet's costume that I never saw before and sat in awe of how many actual stars were on screen at the end of the title crawl ... but it was The Cave on Dagobah that struck me the most.

This wasn't a special effects thing - I actually always thought the way Vader's mask "exploded" was cheesy.  What the Cave vision meant, and how I perceived it all those years ago is what got me thinking ... and blogging.

Conventional wisdom among Star Wars fans is that Luke's failure was that he chose to take his weapons into the cave after Yoda told him that he would not need them.  Essentially, that you are unable to fight fear - but must simply face it.  Since fear leads to the "Dark Side", a Jedi should avoid letting it lead him to Anger .. Hate ... Suffering etc.

When I saw 'Empire' at the Bowman Twin theater in Tulsa Oklahoma in 1980 I had a completely different understanding of the scene..  To me, it was the lesson that Luke was essentially fighting himself.  As a kid trying to grow up (and maybe fly a space ship with a light-saber hanging from my belt), this was my fight - a fight to be more than I was.[note:  I was later convinced that Luke was somehow his own father .. or his father's twin .. but hey, I was 7].

The other night though, in full 1080p, I remembered the old me - the one fighting myself to grow up. For the most part I've been successful; I'm relatively mature when it comes to most things in life ... and I have a much more thoughtful approach to fan theories about movie plot twists.  Still, I often find myself facing off against the dark me in the cave.  "This becoming is harder than it seems."

Back in May (on Star Wars Day) I wrote a FB post that referenced 1 John 4 as what should be the rest of Yoda's teaching on Fear (the enemy that is cast out by Love).  When I've missed the mark in life it's nearly always been because of Fear - or the sort of backwards self-love (selfishness) that I should have outgrown years ago.  I'm finding it takes the sort of trust necessary to leave your light-saber and blaster outside when heading into a scary place.

Identity

All 5 of the people that are likely to read this know, I'm a bit of a super hero fan. Not a "I still have Batman pajamas and live in my parent's basement" fan; but enough that I enjoy all the Marvel movie crossovers and have a fully formed opinion on which Robin was best.  I don't mean who portrayed the best Robin on screen - but which of the 6 actual characters to wear the Robin costume (in the Primary DC Universe) was the best side-kick to Bruce Wayne.

I'm guessing that last bit lost over half of my potential audience - but for both of you that are still reading, I'll say this.  I've been thinking a lot about who we are and how it relates to how others see us.  I've worn several identities as an adult (thankfully none have required tights) but I'm having some questions about what I'm made up of and what matters.

Back in the 80's there was a half hour TV show called Light Music that played Christian Music videos that I taped off late night cable and would watch over and over (lots of Amy Grant's 'Lead Me On' and Michael W. Smith's 'Secret Ambition').  Often, the host - Tom Green I think - would have an artist on to interview and ask them to play.  One otherwise completely forgettable guy:  Michael Kelly Blanchard, played a song called 'The Trouble With Me' and I've never forgotten it (well at least not the chorus) ...

There is no sorrow that God cannot heal
There is no damage he didn't feel
Moment by moment He's there where you hide
Tenderly holding you close, as you cry
Jesus the Lord of the lonely inside
Jesus the Lord of all love - crucified.

As a teenager, I hadn't yet grown into the wonderfully self-actualized person I am today; so the song was a profound statement to me:  I could be lonely and still be loved.  And what did I do with that knowledge?  I lied about having written it myself to try and impress a girl.

I've always been a little fake - craving acceptance - and there have been many times that I can look back and see that I was actually more of a loser - less accepted because of my mask.  As I grew older though, I'm (humbly) happy to say I'm a lot more of who I really am.  More concerned citizen than masked pseudo vigilante.  Still, I see so much of my identity wrapped up in who I am publicly:  what I do for a living, what ministry I'm involved in or had oversight of ... yes, even what sort of special hat I wore with my special uniform.

I mention those 3 in particular since all those things "went away" over the last 2 years.  In July 2012, I stood on a hill with a bunch of other guys and told God that He could have my job, my church involvement, even the one thing I ever felt called to do - everything that made me "who I was" if He wanted something different - and it seems He took me up on it.

Our family has been blessed in many ways through the changes and although there have been some tough moments and some sad times, I truly see the providence in our move.  It makes sense on paper and in so many other ways and we are all growing and might I say even healthier - but I've been feeling like I hung up my cape ... I'm no longer a "super".

But it's not about me ... and maybe that's the point.

1 John 4:4 doesn't just mean that He is greater than he that is in the world.  He has to also be greater than ME too.

Recently I've been reading a series of kids book ... and while that's not exactly new for me, something in the story is.  The 'Wingfeather Saga' by Andrew Peterson has a lot in common with other YA fiction plus a few surprises.  In addition to good parents that are actually alive (sort of) and actively parenting their kids, the books also put a wrinkle in the Hero's Journey - the Throne Warden.

As the eldest of three siblings, Janner Igiby finds out that his parents are actually displaced royalty and he is in fact ... NOT going to be king.  His little brother is.  As the oldest, his job is to protect and advise the king; he is the Throne Warden.  Throughout the story, Janner has to set aside what he wants (i.e. joining the bookbinder guild and becoming a librarian's apprentice) so that he can protect his brother who's likely to get beat up in the warrior guild.

... Some of you wish I would go back to Batman references ...

The lesson I'm learning, is that I can't just be a servant-leader in the stuff I like or even the stuff I feel I'm qualified to do.  I'm called to that in all of my life and haven't been doing it very well - in fact the Identities I have been using may have been just covering up real problems.  Maybe I haven't lost who I was ... maybe now I'm just out of uniform enough to find out who that is.

End of Support Notice

As part of The Inspired Word's common sense policy, September 30, 2008 will bring a close to Extended Support for most uses of the King James Translation of Holy Scripture (KJV-1611). The Word will retire public usage and corporate prayer support, including miraculous updates, by this date.

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Watergate

If you are like me, you've probably noticed that when something is on your mind you tend to see it everywhere. For me, today it's Watergate.

1. I've been reading a history of the Nixon Administration. I'm not very far in (still dealing with the Pentagon Papers and project SANDWEDGE), but still - I'm drawn in and wondering what I'd be willing to do to help my boss's boss get re-elected. Reading an account of Chuck Colson's hatchet-work during this time has also got me thinking about my 2nd-grand-cousin-etc. Ted Sorenson's role in covering up Chappaqidick.

2. I brought Watergate salad to the Men's Super-Bowl party this evening. Since my brownies had bombed at the last pot-luck, I brought in the big guns and asked my mother-in-law for her recipe ... also called - ironically enough - dum dum salad.

In case you are wondering, mix the following and chill before serving:
8 oz Cool Whip
1 pkg Pistachio Pudding Mix
10 oz can of crushed Pinapple
1.5 cups mini-marshmallows
.25 cup pecan bits

3. In about 6 hours, I'll be starting my new job after a major relocation and a way-too-long job search in an officially depressed local economy. I'm starting to transition from being worried that I'm not providing enough for my family .. to being worried that I won't provide enough in this newly created role to justify my employment.

So Watergate is everywhere. What will I bring to the table and what will I be willing to do for a cause. Nixon's team started breaking the law a long time before the break-in. I'm not worried about breaking the law ... I just don't want to be a dum dum.

The Hard Way

... sorry for not following up on my promise to deliver another Holiday Movie blog. After about 2 hours of re-writing, I determined that it was neither funny-haha nor funny-ironic ... so I filed it under funny-deleted. I'll press on anyway and get a post in before David Letterman shaves his beard .. or at least before all the snow melts off the brick that Prometheus lit his fire on (see my previous post).

I stayed up way to late last night to watch "The Order" staring Heath Ledger. I'd previously seen the last half of the movie and mistakenly called it "The Sin Eater" when discussing it at Homers; so when I got a chance to see the whole thing, I jumped at the chance. Ok, actually I just sat there and didn't jump up to do anything else or go to bed until after 4am.

The basic premise of the film (spoiler alert) is that there is now and throughout history have been individuals called "sin-eaters" that are able to consume the transgressions of others and take it on themselves - allowing the dying sinner a chance to enter the afterlife without all those chains and cash boxes we all saw Marley and his pals lugging around this past month. As you can imagine, this makes that sin-eater rather popular with big mean nasty people that are near the end of life. On the other hand, the church (Catholic that is) is really bent out of shape over all these previously excommunicated souls getting a free pass through the pearly gates.

Ledger's character (a conflicted / lusting priest) is recruited by William Eden to take over as the rouge absolutionist. In the process he gets the girl, loses the girl, eats the sin of the girl, gets really pissed off over the girl's death ... yada yada yada - he's the new sin-eater.

...

I also saw Dracula 2000 recently (though not so late at night). In this Wes Craven film we learn that our good friend Vlad the Impaler is none other than Judas himself with a big guilt/self-loathing complex over his betrayal of Christ. It was pretty well done .... and a tidy way to explain the significance of why crosses and silver (i.e. the 30 pieces) really get under his skin. In the end Judas/Dracula does not get the girl but is allowed to successfully hang himself this time after making peace with a large street-evangelism poster board Jesus during MardiGra.

What struck me this evening, as I was reading catching up in my daily devotional readings, was that in both cases these fantastical characters have been created as a way to meet a need that doesn't actually exist. Both Wes Craven's Judas and the clients of the Sin-Eater are trying to get right with a God that is against them. They seem to think that He is literally Hell bent on sending them the way of Buffy's Boyfriends rather than a merciful creator that desires renewed relationship with all his children, no matter what.

There is no need for an "other" way to salvation - by demonic ritual or suicide or anything else. Still it seems part of our nature to be convinced that God is making it hard for us - maybe that's just easier than letting him change who we are.

Another Thursday Night

.... I'm missing Mexican Hot Chocolates and Raspberry Ice Tea.


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My 17 year-old nephew asked me to lead a Thursday night Bible study that he was putting together with some of his friends. This came as a bit of a shock since I'd never really hung out with him (or even met his friends).

T told me that (according to his mom) he really liked it when I taught his Jr. High Vacation Bible School Class 6 years ago. I suspect that he knows that I'm still looking for a job and was trying to offer me a way to feel useful. ... but I'll leave that topic for a later depressing post.

Over the last 2 weeks, I talked with him a bit about the kind of format he thought would work and a bit about the range of spiritual maturity in the group. It seems that there is a mix of born-n-breds and new believers. With that in mind, we are doing a mish mash version of the "Mentors of the Bible" series I did for the old Love's Command class along with "H:11 Heroes" ... series of quick hit bios of the OT faithful listed in Hebrews 11.

I feel fairly confident that tonight's Mentor topic (Barnabas and Saul) went over well but we had to do a bit of catch-up on who Paul was ... a few of the guys thought he was one of the twelve and that the stoning of Stephen was a "flashback". The H:11 Heroes was a bit obscure though (we did Abel and Enoch).

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One of the things that I really liked about Thursday night at Homers was our commitment to focus on fellowship rather than a Bible Study. I couldn't help but feel that I was cheating a bit by having prepared notes. I realize that I'm twice as old as some of these guys but it was neat to see the obvious strength in their friendships and genuine concern for one another as they shared prayer requests.

.... so I know that I'm rambling now. I have another interview tomorrow, so I should get to bed and post more later. Sorry for being so quiet lately.

Moral Dilemma

Here at the Hospitality House in STL (St. Louis for you more Missions-Minded people) I've been taking advantage of the on site Library of novels. For example today I finished a collection of Ray Bradbury and will be boldly going where many, many plots have gone before tomorrow as I start the Jonathan Frakes novel.

The difficult part is that (since I can read) it's hard not to notice all the well posted signs reminding me that I'm not to remove the books from the hospitality house. I immediately question the sign because it seems to be assumed that I will take a book over to the hospital (2 blocks from the house). I've gotten over that little bump in the moral road by generalizing "hospital"ity into one place - but what about the post-transplant apartments? If T is right, and I won't have connection again until Monday the 25th .... I will really ... really need books.

Here are my attempts at rationalization:

1. Most hospitality guests seem to be the sort of ladies that aren't going to choose a science fiction selection ... so even if the books didn't get back ... no harm - no foul.

2. The apartment rate is negotiated by the hospital and the hospital is requiring us to stay in town (though not necessarily there).

3. I will be at the hospital a minimum of every other day and will in fact, pick-up and drop-off my apartment keys at the hospitality house (making book return very easy).

Thoughts? ... and yes, I'll be able to see your blog comments via gmail on my handy-dandy phone.

Working Stuff Out

As you already read on T's blog, my dad was unexpectedly called to STL on Sunday for a kidney transplant and is doing well. We expect that he will be out of ICU in the morning and has already been up and out of bed during the first 24 hours! For the next couple of weeks, I'll be staying with him in an apartment near the hospital, so he can have regular check-ups.

This has certainly been an experience - including:

• 6 hours of sleep in the last 52
• An incredibly punitive speeding ticket (even after I tried the "I'm rushing to the Kidney Transplant" line with the nice officer)
• Visiting the wrong hospital in beautiful downtown East St. Louis
• Hearing what a stopped mini-van sounds like when struck by an already beat up Ford Mustang

All the crappy stuff above gives me a chance to whine a little bit ... but I have to say that in spite of all that, it's been a wonderful opportunity to see how God "orders our steps".
I'd told my previous employer that if the transplant happened (at some vague point in the somewhat distant future), I would be taking a week off to help - but that was the extent of my actual preparation .
When the call came in early Sunday morning, I found myself stunned that I was completely prepared to help. Here's another list:

• I'm among the blissfully unemployed-yet-still-being-paid-Citi-17,000
• The house we are about to move to had just been found .. giving me 2 free weeks before our move date that I had been planning to spend house hunting.
• Our current house was 95% packed so T wouldn't be left to pack it all while I was gone
• Everything I needed to have for 2 weeks in another city was packed and ready to go.
• Dad's other identified volunteer was able to cover the 2 weeks after my move date .... but would have been able to help for these 2 weeks.
• Even the job offer that I expected weeks ago called to say that they had been delayed in their approval process - so if an offer is made, I'll be able to start after the move date and my time with Dad here in STL.

I know my use of bullet points is a little annoying, but trying to put all that stuff in a narrative would would have taken way too long. I'll try to blog while I'm here - but I'm not sure about the Wi-Fi connectivity where I'll be staying. Thanks to all of you that have prayed and adjusted your schedules to help out.

On the Road Again

As you may have noticed, I've been away from blog-land for a while. I wasn't sure exactly how long that had been until my Dad mentioned that my last post was February 16th ... so I'm a little behind.

I can't blame my blogging tardiness on being downsized from Citibank, but it has certainly had an effect. I had planned to begin posting my first day "off-the-job" but blogging was part of my downtime at work ... I've certainly had downtime lately but not much work to break it up with. In any case, please feel free to join T in what I'm sure will be some semi-sarcastic comments about returning from the witness protection plan etc. etc.

I chose the title of this post - not because I'm back in the employment saddle .... or even in reference to my soon-coming move to Indiana, rather it has more to do with life's direction and our persistent shared delusion that we seem to know where we are going. Before I go any further, I should point out that I do not see myself as Saul of Tarsus for many reasons. For example I am none of the following:

1. An up-and-coming young Pharisee

2. A student of the renowned Gamaliel

3. A persecutor of the followers of Jesus

4. An effective garment storage provider / execution group facilitator

5. ... very good at keeping up with meaningful written correspondence

I've been passing the sign above (or one very similar) for nearly 14 years on trips between Springfield and Kansas City. At first it was to visit some soon to be relatives, then it was to move here, and for the past 5 years, it's been on the way home from a family visit. As I've driven past "the road to Damascus" (just north of the Osceola Cheese Store), it has always given me reason to reflect on where I'm going.

I've gone to places in my life - both spiritually and geographically speaking completely motivated by my own purpose and plan or because it seemed to make sense. Still ... on the way there I find myself somewhat blind and rather unaware of what I'll end up doing in the end.

In every instance, God continues to put me in places that shape me and my family while allowing us to touch the lives of other people. I'm still nervous about this physical move - even though I can see how several doors/windows have been opened and closed to get me to this point.

I've been able to keep N from playing a certain Michael W. Smith song about "packing up the dreams God 's planted" but I've been remembering another one that wasn't quite as popular at the end of summer camp - it seems to fit my mood on the Damascus road better.

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Here is where the road divides

Here is where we realize

The sculpting of the Father's great design

Through time you've been a friend to me

But time is now the enemy

I wish we didn't have to say goodbye

But I know the road he chose for me

Is not the road he chose for you

So as we chase the dreams were after

Pray for me and I'll pray for you

Pray that we will keep the common ground

Won't you pray for me and I'll pray for you

And one day love will bring us back around again

--

I know my steps are ordered ... I just wish I knew more about the destination and didn't have these scales on my eyes.

Run Kate - Run!!!!

Spoiler Alert!!! For those of you that haven't seen last night's LOST - stop reading now.

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I'll just type a bit more here to make sure Mr. Gourd-Man doesn't spoil his own LOST experience. I added this paragraph because I realized that I really shouldn't mention the death of a major character within 1 inch of my spoiler alert ... the eyes do wander ya' know. I really mean it this time. Stop reading now to prevent finding something out.....

You're still reading aren't you ? .... ok - I warned you.

I was really disappointed when Mr. Ecko died last week. In fact, I even held out a little bit of hope that he would survive - if only Jack could have been there to beat on his chest and cry (it's always worked before). More than just missing one of the most original characters on TV, I'm going to miss my own internal conflict over Ecko's faith. The LOST writers did a really good job presenting us someone that truly believes they are living in grace and mercy. This is unusual since most tv 'christians' are either works-based-save-yourselves ... or truly evil individuals that are hiding behind redemption as a way to save themselves.

Ecko seems to have been one of the few that knows he can't save himself and that nothing he can do will be enough - still he humbly does right. At this point in my post, it's becoming apparent that I've been studying the book of James. When I mention my internal conflict .... I'm referencing the fact that Ecko's faith is different from mine. For a tribal over-lord he does seem to have a rather commanding grasp of scripture (though his interpretation is far from evangelical). Did he hide all that Word in his heart while briefly taking Yemi's place - or is it the remnant of his childhood Saharan JBQ league matches?

Ecko's conversation about confession and forgiveness with the Smoke Monster / Yemi during last weeks episode seems to mirror the last few seconds of the min-season finale. Jack yelling at Kate that she has about an hour to run ..... and kate weeping because she knows there is nowhere to run to. Still Ecko turns against his faith and claims to have nothing to confess. In his dying moments he reached out and grabbed onto works in defiance.

Rest well Ecko - if you can.

What will people think...!?

I was between audio books this week .... so I spent a bit of time listening to "music" in the car. Whenever that happens, I end up being very reflective about my music selections and tend to have a few more flashbacks than normal.

When I was new to the corporate telecom world I was asked to participate in a product test for partnership with the Christian Broadcast Network. I'll give you a moment to think about that - two things that don't go great together (unlike peanut-butter and chocolate) are telemarketing and Pat Robertson. The basic premise was this: If one of the nice little old ladies (that sent the 700 club money every month anyway) would just sign up for "CBN Phone Reach" aka MCI Telecom d.b.a. Telecom*USA ... the big bad phone company would shell out 10% of their bill back to Pat and his never ending parade of evangelical newsmakers.

I mention all that to set the stage for one of those quasi-adolescent super spiritual holier than thou fantasies. You know the kind that I'm talking about ..... you single handedly win some famous person to Christ, perform a Moses-level miracle, or do serious battle with level-3 demonic horder with only your Christian t-shirt and heavily highlighted KJV. I'm pretty sure that I was (for the most part) over this need for approval phase of my life, but the idea of getting to dramatically demonstrate my faith to my corporate peers had definite "altar-ego" appeal.

A little way into the project, It was obvious that the team I was training/coaching was likely to set some serious sales records (not to mention a record for sex line fraud claims). This was playing right into my master plan. The team could all run up to the stage at the next presidential awards ceremony to recieve their awards to the way-cool grungy "Jesus Freak" by DC Talk. But I digress.....

Tonight - as I was listening to the 'Jesus Freak' album I remembered my vision of tent-maker glory and felt sick to my stomach. The music is still cool - but now I know that it wouldn't save anyone ... no matter how cool the concert t-shirt and WWJD bracelet were. Still I wonder if I've slipped to far the other way. Rarely do I find myself in a place to share my faith. I'm much more balanced in my approach and I probably leave a better taste in those I share with, but it so rare that I find myself in an opportunity - I wonder if it's me hiding my light under a bushel.

"We Can Hardly Stand The Wait ..."

As I was growing up .... the Christmas Season started the day after Thanksgiving with tree purchasing and/or decorating. This included pulling out the Christmas music and fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-ing.

Well, I'm used to the stores putting out Christmas stuff before Halloween - but I wasn't quite ready for that little nagging voice in the back of my head singing Christmas songs. I've been whistling 'Frosty the Snowman', 'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear' and the Chipmunk's 'Christmas Song' all through the past week. I finaly gave in and listened to Citi on a Hill's: "It's Christmas Time" in the car on Thursday evening and this morning as well.

Today though, as Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier, I'm wondering if it's a good thing. Certainly a bit of Christmas cheer is beneficial for all - or is it? Are we diluting the sacred by spreading it out over 4 months? We are to keep the "God with us" all through the year - but do we limit ourselves (and Him) by making it all about the Nativity and Country Styled Snow-People?

Each of the last few years I've been more and more OK with leaving some of our decorations in the box. Don't get me wrong, I still want a tree and Christmas carols in the house; but I'm not so sure that setting up more than one fake evergreen will make the Holiday any more joyus. I'll still try to find that perfect place for our ever-sprawling Colonial Christmas Village, but do we really need 52 Santa figurines?

On the City On A Hill album I mentioned above there's a really neat song about Mary and Joseph's inner turmoil over parenting the Messiah called 'Bethlehem Town'. It's a good song ... but they put a throw-away line about the wise men in the chorus and specifically time their gifts to that night in Bethlehem. Grrrrrrrr. I'm ok with 'the world' getting bits of the story wrong (or wholy misinterpreting it ala Touched by an Angel). That's only understandable since they are presenting a view of archtypes - not the real people that will have real struggles raising a real child.

The Jars of Clay song loses so much by playing lose with the facts (presumebly for a good rhyme) in the midst of an otherwise true portraly of the miracle of incarnation. Maybe that's my concern with this rush for Christmas - that we've somehow spread it so thin that it's no longer important to get the details right .... no longer special and reverent ... no longer a 'mass' for the Coming of the Christ Child.

" .... please Christmas don't be late" - or early.

My mind was filled with wonder when the evening headline read ...

I was humming the tune to Richard Corey this afternoon - not really consciously identifying the message of the lyrics .. just tapping the mousepad as I worked on a spreadsheet.

My internal soundtrack switched unbidden to the following lines:

"There is no sorrow that God cannot heal
There is no dammage He didn't feel

Moment by moment, He's there where you hide
Tenderly, holding you close as you cry

Jesus the Lord of the lonely inside
Jesus the Lord of all Love and of Life"

I didn't write that; but I once told someone I did. How strange are memmory and regret when words are old and hard - unretrievable.

- a liar that spoke truth

An Island Never Cries

A winters day In a deep and dark december ...

If you've been reading my rather infrequent posts, you know that I recently got the Best of Simon and Garfunkle as part of my Best Of Extravaganza. It's spent some time in the car with me and I've found myself reflecting on how different the music sounds to me.

When I say different, I don't mean how much clearer everything is, how much I miss the hisses and pops from my old record or even that I'm catching lyrics I never heard correctly before (all of which is true). Rather, it's me that's differnt ... and nothing on the album typifies this more than 'I Am a Rock'.

... I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.

I am a rock,
I am an island.

This song was an anthem for me. Yes, I knew that Paul was being ironic and sarcastic as he quoted John Donne ( ... no man is an island ... ), but I always took the lyrics to say, ha - you're wrong I can be an island!!!

Ive built walls, A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.

I am a rock,
I am an island.

This quite simply isn't me anymore. I don't think I'm altogether more healthy than I was .. maybe it's just experience that has taught me the value of friendships. Well, experience and a lot more practice.

Dont talk of love, But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.

I am a rock,
I am an island.

Ok - this one was completely out of my league back then. There was a brief span of time in my Junior year (with the emotional maturity of a 12 year old girl) that I had the whole bemoaning love - not yet real - yet lost thing going on. But this just sounded cool and (to me) made for a good sensitive guy impression.

I have my books And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.

I am a rock,
I am an island.

I used to think the lyric here was safe within my 'tomb' rather than womb. I still think that would sound cooler (is that a word?). The book and poetry bit is interesting to reflect on. It's kind of a chicken/egg thing. As I've gotten older (and less like the person in this song) the less I've spent time with books. I know that might surprise some of you - but I used to be even more bookish. Nowadays I'm limited to the shallow end of the pool: no philosphy, very little history, and God help me .... books on CD. The poetry is all but gone and just about everything I wrote buggs me more than a human video. I say all that to wonder outloud .... did I take on my bookishness as part of the persona of the 'island' or did my literary leanings coddle the persona. Either way, one or both were (at least partly) fake.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island .... well, you know the rest.

The List (#93)

In one of T's recent comments, she mentions that I - just like most 3 year-olds - never seem to satisfied with the amount of "stuff" in my life. She suggested that when I get something new that I've been wanting (i.e. my new Bluetooth headset), I will immediately move on to the next item on my list. She wasn't being negative ... merely factual, but it got me thinking.

This imaginary list is what brings me back to the dashboard today. When I read the comment, I had to do a bit of soul searching .... being labeled a 'things' sort of person isn't necessarily a positive thing and it doesn't really jive well with my carefully crafted altruistic facade. After thinking about it for a bit, I had to agree she was right and once again confess that I'm a pretty selfish person on most days.

The selfishness thing has been bugging me lately, but I hadn't yet expanded my internal audit far enough to include 'the list'. This is probably because the list isn't really a list at all. T is the list person, everything she does is written on a list (paper, electronic, or mental). If she thinks of something to do - or buy, it gets put on a list and bumped up against all the other lists (i.e. the available funds list, the available time list, the family impact list etc.) each of which contains items and activities that are 'needed' and have therefore not been cast into the outer darkness.

When I say that my list is not a list, I mean it. At any given point in time I may have a 'want' or two floating around in my head - keep in mind that the 'needs' have already been accounted for on T's list - but there is no sense of prioritization of my wants. In fact - the store I'm in, show I'm watching, event I'm planning effectively obliterates all other items from my consciousness. This means that I appear to have multiple wants at any given time that all appear to have the same level of importance. This is not truly the case, and if you ask me to consider any specific subset of items (including those from T's need lists), chances are I will make a relatively good decision.

With that in mind, I'm going to attempt to list all of the wants (ok - the realistic ones) here in this blog. Maybe, by putting them all in one place and attempting to prioritize them I can stay better focused. I don't really think I should get a goodie every week or every month .. or even every quarter (at least I don't think that when I'm checking my selfishness) but this might de-mystify some things and help my perspective. I've intentionally left out anything that I'd like to buy for T or the kids.

* Royal Ranger Commander Dress Blues Uniform
* Swiss Army Memory Knife
* Back Pack 'Fat Boy' Belt Extender (why diet?!)
* Stainless Steel G.I. 2-piece Mess Kit
* Collapsible Camping Cot
* Royal Ranger Commander Class A Uniform
* The Folio Society edition of The Silmarillion (Blue)
* Episode III, IV, V, & VI on DVD
* V. 3 of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (x-library)
* Any other old book that I can get my hands on

That's all I can think of for the list at the moment; it actually looks a little short. T, if you know of anymore I should add let me know. I want to be thorough ... and I'm sure you have a list of 'all the silly things on Dash's list'.

The Little Boy that Stuck His Thumb in the (Levee)

I recently read an article about Dutch folktales, and much to my surprise, learned that the famous story about the little boy that saved the town from the encroaching sea is not a Dutch story at all, but an American invention by the author of Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates. This story was part of my “Children’s Bookshelf of Great Literature”. T and I found that we both had the same set of stories growing up and we have my old one on our family bookshelf for the kids.

If you are unfamiliar with the legend, here is a brief synopsis:

A little boy coming home from a neighbor's house late at night stops in the woods near the massive dike that is holding back the sea from overcoming his industrious little village. As he pauses to pick up a stone, he hears a trickle of running water and soon finds that the dike has a small hole in it. The brave little boy knows his duty to the town and immediately sticks his finger (usually his thumb) into the dike to prevent the hole from growing larger and breaking open a great inlet for the sea. Though he is tired and hungry - and chilled to the bone by the frigid water that has made him thumb grow numb and swollen - he does not leave his post 'til a pastor spots him on his way home from town the next day. The boy is a hero; but in true Dutch fashion, not someone to be idolized ....only an example of what we all should do.
Even though this is an American story (fictionally told to Hans Brinker and his classmates one day in school), there are at least 2 statues honoring the “little boy that did his duty” in the Netherlands. Both are the work of City councils trying to make a bit of coin and give the American Tourists something to look at after they buy their wooden shoes and look at the windmills.

One of the reasons that this story has never taken hold in the Netherlands (except for the tourist statues) is that our understanding of what a dike is (a stone or concrete wall) differs from the reality of giant sand dunes and sluice gates that hold back the sea in Holland. Water walls similar to the ones described in the story are found alongside some rivers or by a lake – but never the ocean.

I’m not usually a “current events” blogger; and perhaps I’ve waited long enough since Hurricane Katrina to avoid sounding like a trend following purveyor of self-righteous glurge. Still when all the mess was happening in the 9th Ward, I couldn’t help but think of the little boy that did his duty. There has already been enough (rather bigoted) commentary about the actions and reactions of the residents of New Orleans to the catastrophe and I don’t mean to rehash that. Instead, as I usually do here on the dashboard, I’ll wonder aloud how I would have reacted in the midst of flooding – assuming for some reason I was still in the city when the levies broke.

How do I determine my “duty”? How far would I have gone to help myself, my family, and my fellow man? My company let us know that if we had specialized skills that could help during the first few weeks after the disaster, we could make arrangements with the company to take leave (sometimes – even paid) to go and help. I know of a few that went to help loved ones or participated with their family members that were already on the scene helping with relief groups and other NGOs. It bothered me a bit that I never once considered going or asking myself if there was anything I could do.

My limited knowledge of engineering (which would fit nicely in a pocket-sized first aid kit) tells me that there was nothing that a single person or several hundred persons could have done the night of the hurricane to keep the levees from breaking. Still, the haunting faux legend of a little boy and his thumb shames me.

Cop Shows

N commented tonight that T & I seem to, "watch a lot of FBI/police shows". My knee-jerk reaction to this was that I don't really and that I'm a moderate TV viewer with discriminating and eclectic tastes.

This is not exactly true.

Even though this is a blog and inherantly the place to list in excruciating detail all the stuff I watch, I realize that I have "readers" and that might not be the best use of their time. I'll just sum it up and say that if Jerry Bruckhimer and Dick Wolf ever go out of business, I'll have enough time to complete that analysis of everything that Q ever said to Picard ... or was it everything that Q said to M .... or 7 (no leading zeros)?

I'm having one of those convergent influence days. Between N asking me about my TV viewing, T pointing out just how long the new curtain rod for the family room had been hiding behing the door, C telling me he is going to skip legos tomorrow so he can read the Bible like they talked about in Children's Church, Mr.s P-dougeee showing an endearing video about a bible study, and Phil mentioning the emminent 90-day read through the Bible thing; I thinking about a devotion.
Oh yeah; did I mention that I was one of the guys in Sunday school that was talking about the muslim view of the Koran as being equivelant with the virgin birth? It's sad to realize that if I was a muslim, I'd be a very bad one. Not in doctrine but in the simple acts of faith and devotion that they do for a false god. And every one of them is something I'm called to do in my own relationship with the True Way.

The 5 Pillars of Islam are The Profession Of Faith, Prayer, Fasting, Charity, and Pilgrimage. I'd rate myself as follows on a scale of 1-5 ... 1 being the more devout end of the spectrum:

Profession Of Faith (2) I do ok here, but sometimes I wonder how much of it is cultural. I've never been a Jesus Fish kind of Christian; but I don't let my faith be part of what immediatley defines me to new people I meet. I understand how many in the "Hi - I'm a Born Again Christian, Are You?" camp have alienated some, but can I honestly say that's a good enough excuse? I'm pretty sure that if I had an "are you a Christian?" moment like the apochraphyl comlumbine This Was Her Time story, I'd pass the test. But should I really have to have a gun to my head to declare my faith?

Prayer (3) Not counting meals and the automobile mishaps, I have a reactive prayer life. What I mean by this is that I wait for a reason to pray .. or some other external prompting before I seek God. I'm probably closer to a "2" right now since I'm interviewing with another company and considering a job change - but I don't have any kind of DVR-like schedule that says at X o'clock I'm going to spend time with my God.

Fasting (4) As evidenced by the stuff that does fill my time (not just the momentary self-rant on my TV viewing) , I don't seem to deny myself very often. This relates to the pilgrimage topic in that because I don't get the denying part done, I've not been very successfull in taking up many crosses.

Charity (5) I'm probably one of the most selfish people I know. The people at work think I give to my Church, so that's why I don't do much for the fundraisers. I wonder if the people at church think the opposite. T pointed out when I was commenting on how pathetic our end of year giving report from the church was that we are much more likely to give to individuals that need help (and un-traceable cash in the offering bag) but I know I should be doing more. Not to meet some sort of quota - or to earn some sort of blessing allowance - just because it's one way I can express that I trust God and that he has belessed me more richly than I deserve.

Pilgrimage (?) I'm still up in the air on this one. I interpret it as selfless service. What is grey for me is that I'm not sure how much of the "ministry" I do is compelled by calling and how much is just a way to do what I enjoy and feel good about it so I can justify my selfishness.

Anyway, I'm sorry for such a long-winded blog. I'm sure I needed to write it more than say it to others. In fact it feels very much like the Post-Secret blog where people send postcards with their deepest secrets to some guy with a web site and a book to write. This is not the posting of a deviant, but I will consider my tail to have been kicked. Hope I feel the pain in my rump for a while and that it makes a difference.

Ink Blots

All the talk about the ink blot test on Dirt's blog reminded me of something.

I read 'Flowers for Algernon" in 8th grade. After hearing the blob test refered to as the "Raw Shark" test so much .... I have to think of it first before remembering that it's called a "Rorschach". Does anyone else remeber this story. It was required reading for me, so I'm assuming a few other folks have it rustling about in their heads as well.

I often see Charlie Gordon when I look in the mirror. So many times, I'll look back over my life and see a part of me that seems to have slipped back into mediocrity - sliding quickly into being sub-standard. That is, if I'm honnest with myself, the greatest terror of my existence ... to lose what I so tightly clutch in my little hand. Like Charlie, I fear losing my ability to reason (such as it is) and I fear losing my compassion, my humour, my self.

I'm not sure, in this case, that it is better to have loved / thought and lost. Eventually the void would be so great that you don't recognize the parts that are missing. Still, there must be flashes of what you once were - what you once felt.

Yet, in spite of this fear, it is exactly what I often allow in my own spiritual walk. I conciously stop becoming a more perfect instrument and choose to regress into something less than I expect even the fallen to be. Like Charlie, I've grown so much that I can diagnose my own condition, but I'm powerless to stop its progress.


"Here I am again alone. Afraid I'll lose all that I own
Yet you see me as your own I cannot fall.
And what I am I still am not at times I count the cost
yet I find there's nothing lost if I give it all.

Too many times I'm back inside wanting desperately to hide
Yet I know, i know you say you have to die
Too many times you hear my cries I'm at the end of all my tries
So, I'm open Lord, so teach me how to die ."

(Cheesy 80s lyrics provided by: M.W.S.)

This Thing is Real

There is a really old Carman song from the Sunday's on the Way album called, 'This thing is Real'. This was way back when Carman was playing his home church in Tulsa OK, had one song on the radio, and hadn't even dreamed of making cheesy boxing movies or playing Vegas. Like all good Carman songs, it starts out in first person narrative:

"Well I went down to the local A of G
... to look around and see what I could see
I heard somebody shout
spun myself about ...
And saw this big ole' deacon man
running straight toward me
--
His face was red
He shook his head
Looked up at me and said, This Thing is Real!"

Now this is when the backup singers start doing Doo-WAP and we go on to hear about how both he and his cousin Tony get "filled". I know that this can be a touchy subject in our circles - we all seem to have a different perspective on what is often called our "Distinctive Doctrine" - the Baptism of the Holy Spirit and the initial evidence.

As I mentioned in my last post, this past weekend was the Kansas State Pow-Wow for Royal Rangers. Now I've been to a few of these and they all have the same spiritual components. Just like any good set of A/G evangelistic meetings. There are three services:

Service 1 - You need to get Saved ... Or at least "rededicated" .. or get over your pride if you don't think you need to go up to the altar.

Service 2 - You need to get Filled ... or refilled ... or filled deeper.

Service 3 - You have a mission to get other people Saved and Filled ... or to at least attend a saving, filling, mission-ing camp or services.

I think most of you already know that I think we as a fellowship put more emphasis on "the evidence" than we need to and that it has a lot more to do with distinguishing us from another denomination than being the barometer of our relationship with Christ. With that in mind, you can understand that I don't usually look forward to Service 2.

Last Saturday night was a service 2 and I was minding my own business - keeping to the back, praying and singing while the "side-show" was going on up front by the fire. (Ranger speakers have the extra good visualization of a roaring fire right up by the altar to make the tongues thing even more dramatic). The teenager sitting next to me leaned over and asked if I would pray with him .... sure I said - confident that it would be something innocuous like a family member going through hard times, direction for life, maybe even some adolescent guilt.

Nope - he wanted me to pray that they boys that had gone up front would get "filled". By the time I realized this he had already grabbed my hand and was praying OUTLOUD for those at the altars. Then he paused .... didn't say amen .... and dear lord, squeezed my hand to let me know it was my turn.

I started out pretty safely, praying for God's will in each boys life, a stronger relationship and daily walk - nice things a Baptist would pray; but then something happened. I didn't have a big message/interpretation experience like some of you might be expecting-but I felt very led to pray that God would "Send down the fire" - but not in an Acts 2 context, rather I was praying for a 1 Kings experience. I found myself praying that the water would be poured out over the offering - that it would fill the trench around the altar, so that if the fire was sent; it would be God that did the lighting.

I don't know that I've ever made that connection before. With all the sermons preached on the the Baptism, I'm sure it's not original. Still it resonated with my soul. It took me back to my own experiences that I'd pushed away long ago. I saw the fakers, the coachers, the altar pushers when I was young - but I also saw the real thing. I don't know if I saw the real thing Saturday night - I never made it up to pray with the boys that went forward, but I know I prayed for the real thing. And that was a big step for me.

"This automatic
Old Fanatic - bless Him
Got Filled

Well you may not understand
why we shout and raise our hands
It's only because this thing is real."