Fundamentals

I spend a lot of my time trying to streamline my life. I try to shortcut the process of whatever I am trying to do at the moment. With my writing for example, it's easy for me to spend a couple of hours watching videos, or reading books about writing, even studying sentence structure and word choice of my favorite authors. These things are good. They teach me things about what I love to do. The problem is that they are full of motivating promise without any actual results. Unless I sit down and write, a lot, I'm never going to get anywhere.

Part of the problem is my fear of imperfection and difficulty. It is one thing to think about a great concept to write about, or even a couple of quippy sentences that cut like a razor, but to actually sit and piece something together usually involves several revisions, at least two cups of coffee, and an ongoing battle with my self-confidence. Just like the best stories, the best examples of writing are typically born out of a painstaking process of frustration and continual failure, until you wake up one morning and have a vague notion that it might have been worth it.

Maturity is the same sort of animal. Growth is slogging journey through pain and failure, every so often interrupted by a glimpse of accomplishment overshadowed by what it took to get there. It's easy to fight this sort of process. We would much rather cross the desert by setting land speed records than walking. But, it is the day in day out that has made me the person I am today, and the same slogging that will make me into the kind of person I want to be.

Jesus modeled the same sort of process. It is strange to think of God incarnate preparing for something, yet he understood the rhythms of life enough to wait 30 years before starting the biggest portions of his ministry. There were a million steps taken before he turned his face to Jerusalem. As I read through stories about Jesus, where he went, and what he said, I see a patience with his process of living and teaching. One of the things I see clearly in Jesus life is that he was not paranoid about progress and efficiency. He was focused on the long term.

So this morning as I set pen to paper I attempt to do so with patience and purpose. I think Jesus prefers it that way.

When Perfect Meets Imperfect

Language is imperfect. Words are nuanced depending on the experiences attached to a word.

For example: Cat.

The picture you have in your mind probably varies based on whether you love circuses and think of a Lion, or are picturing a little kitty of your childhood.

This is a very small example, but when we get down to it, it is very hard to communicate precisely when using the human language. Which is why I find it remarkable that God tried to communicate with us at all, knowing that his message would be misread, misheard, misrepresented, and misunderstood through the ages in so many ways, which is a good reason for us to be humble about any theological conclusions we reach. Galileo was after all declared a heretic for believing that the universe revolved around the Earth. According to the church he opposed the obvious scriptures like Psalm 93:1 that says "...the earth is established, it shall never be moved..."

Language is just another way that God used the imperfect to do something about the mess we caused, and it is humbling. Studying language makes me realize that while God's truth is perfect and absolute, the language of the people he communicates to, as well as the people themselves are not, and yet He still does it and makes beautiful things.

The Joys of Squirrel for Breakfast

I stand by the right to publish incomplete snippets. The point of this blog is to build a unity. Basically, if there is a unity in my life, it will become apparent what that unity is. No post is a complete thought, theology, worldview, or poem within itself, it must be taken within the context of the entirety of this blog, considerations of who I am in public as well as who I am in extreme situations like when I am forced to wake up at 4:30 in the morning to help my wife jump start her car in 20 degree weather. I recognize my right as a flawed human being to do the following: 1) be wrong, 2) change my mind, 3) be inconsistent, 4) have improper grammar and spelling conventions. You are just as flawed, wrong, capricious, and prone to theological alteration as I am... so get over it.

Silence is a valuable commodity. Thoreau wanted it badly enough that he moved into the woods and built himself a little cabin. There is a small wood near my school that I walk by between classes. I often mentally dig through my backpack to see if I have enough supplies to survive for a week or two. The small cup of unheated gourmet soup made for me by my wife is probably too meagre a serving for that long. I don't have a knife with me, or matches for that matter. Even if I did have ample supplies I'm sure that someone would suspect a vagrant when they saw smoke rising from the trees, carrying with it the smell of sizzling squirrel bacon.

Some day I hope to have a very small cabin in an old growth forest, with a pot belly stove and lots of books and paper and pens and a guitar. I think there is something beautiful about a bit of isolation and silence, it makes you realize that a life without computers, cell phones, amplified instruments, cars, to the minute deadlines, and higher education, isn't as terrible as we've made it out to be. I'm not trying to be earthy or nostalgic. I just think I would love living isolated in the woods for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month out of each year, even if just to remind myself that the world doesn't end if I'm not a part of it. I think everyone should be forced to realize that at least once a year.

The Turkey Purifies

To the contrary of the senseless christmas music rambling fury of commercial Alzheimer's, we are just exiting the Thanksgiving season in which we celebrate three of America's top ten things to do: Watch football, eat too much, and buy more stuff than we can afford.

In spite of the less noble traits of Thanksgiving, I am still appreciative of a holiday whose tricks a culture of spoiled children to say thanks at least once a year, "Yay, thanksgiving break!" God knows we need it like air.

I used to think Thankfulness was about being nice and showing other people you appreciate them, or at least to make them think that was the case. I was supposed to thank my aunt for that horrendous gift of a (not really) Lego set that won't fit with the real thing. Apparently the goal is to make her think that she is a good gift giver so she can continue to get me what she thinks is the perfect gift without having to try. Thank you for your sub par attention to my interests. I may have some baggage.

A friend recently talked about being thankful, continually, in everything, no matter what. I would argue with him, but the apostle Paul backs him up on this one, though I'm sure he would change his mind if he knew about my aunt and fake Legos. They didn't have fake Legos when Paul was writing half the New Testament. Paul said, "In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Yeshua The Messiah among you."

That is powerful language. You don't throw around words like "everything" or "will of God" all willy nilly, especially if you're writing the Bible. There is something deeper at stake here.

I got thinking about this being thankful for everything bit and did a little experiment. For the course of about fifteen minutes, I tried to be consciously, genuinely thankful for every little thing I did or interacted with.

-Thank you God that my door opens.

-Thank you God that I have shoes to take off.

-Thank you God that you inspired people to create Pumpkin Spice egg nog.

-Thank you God that we have a couch.

-Thank you God.... for my smartphone.

-Thank you God that I can sit here and play a pointless game on my smartphone for a half hour....

....wait a second.

I tried to say thank you a second time, then a third. Something was hitting the ceiling.

It's hard to say thank you about a deficiency. While I may often enjoy my deficiencies like I love picking like a scab (don't pretend you don't do it too), I can't meaningfully say thank you God for my anger problem, thank you for strong hands to beat my wife with, thank you that I haven't ever had to do anything significant with my life. The reality is that there are things I can't say thank you for without stopping for a second to think, "Should I be thankful for that?"

There is something purifying about being thankful. Is it petty to say thank you for my iPhone or the time I waste on it? I'm not entirely sure, but if it is, should I even have it in the first place? Is it an issue of petty ungratefulness of a spoiled child, or is it something I can't show to God and say, this is an actual blessing in my life, thank you that I have it. Either way an inability to be thankful shows me something needs to change.

The things genuinely worth being thankful for are the things worth keeping in my life.

Something Worth Fixing

Relationships gain significance with time and experience. I have this emotional portfolio for everyone I know, filled with all sorts of random memories. Some people have a cover letter, explaining when and where I met them, and how that first encounter went. These are the people I rarely see, or talk to, or hear about. Then there are several dossiers that have so much piled into their slightly ripped and faded manilla casing that there is no way to go through all the information in one sitting. Hundreds of pages serve no memorable purpose, but add their collective weight to the manilla monstrosity, helping show that something about this file is very important.I am fortunate to have more than a couple of these very full dossiers.

Life currently finds me going through some of these files, realizing wrongs done and close friends left behind. There is some bridge repair that needs to be done, probably painful stuff, but these are the sorts of past experiences that have made these relationships worth building. There has been too much history to give up now.

A Way to Community... Maybe.

I'll be up front, I am stealing the foundation of this idea from Don Miller. I'll also admit that I have a man crush on him. But that is beside the point.

There are things that I do that I hate doing. These things always go bad. They are continually uncomfortable, even awkward. A year or so ago Miller wrote a post about making a list of things you will not do in the following year, sort of like an inverted list of resolutions. I made a list.

I won't try to recount my list for you because I don't remember what was on it, with the exception of one item: "I will not watch a movie with a group of people when everyone spends about a half hour deciding what movie we should watch." This always went poorly for me. Everyone would try to think of something, maybe throwing in some movie that they sort of heard about from a friend of a friend, or some obscure movie that took five minutes to explain why it was worth watching. I don't remember one time where I wasn't watching the movie thinking, I hope so and so likes this one, or man this really isn't as good as they said it would be. And so it made my list.

The reason I remember this one is because I have actually stuck to it, rather obnoxiously I might add. On several occasions, before anyone can halfheartedly recommend anything, I interject as if their words could destroy the world, and assign the task of selecting a movie to a specific person (usually the one who suggested we watch a movie). It doesn't matter what movie it is, so long as it isn't porn or something by hallmark. I trust my friends enough to know that they know me and the others in the group and can make mature adult decisions. After several experimental interjections I've found this method to be highly successful. Well, at least for me. Previously few were happy with the outcome anyway, a compromise of everyone's taste resulted in a movie that no one enjoyed.

I think why this works, and I think the point of what I am just now getting to, is that when people resign themselves in advance to the decisions of another person, there is a laying down of personal preference prior to the event. I think there is something beautiful in doing that that makes this process deeper than movies.

Community, real and deep community, happens when tell each other to pick the movie, when we look at someone and say, "Help me understand you and who you are, even if that makes me uncomfortable, or dare I say it, bored." I think when we do this in advance we open up a door in our being that allows us to really listen to someone else, and possibly even enjoy it.

I am guilty of trying to command the situation (e.g. telling someone to pick a movie). Even if I do let someone else drive conversation, I do it by guiding them with questions, instead of just listening what they have to say. When I do this, I'm hindering community. Maybe next time I should watch their life, knowing that someday they've agreed to watch mine.

What Makes Something Meaningful?

Let's cut to the chase. We want something honest.

Now that I answered my question, allow me to elaborate.

The most meaningful, and I would argue life changing, conversations I have taken in were not planned, organized, programized (new word), or taken from an outline in a book about having meaningful conversations. They snuck up on me as if I were an unsuspecting bird bathing under the supervision of some tiger like tabby cat.

These sorts of encounters only started to happen when I learned to be honest, and not in the generic I am human and have problems sense. I used to do that to make myself approachable and likable, and sometimes even 'spiritual', as if my generic issues made me qualified to understand grace. Until I learned to shame myself in front of someone and put myself in the position where they could justifiably wonder why they would want to talk to me, I didn't encounter much in the way of this sort of life changing heart exchange.

These sorts of encounters never happened in Bible studies. I'm not sure this was the fault of the Bible, or God, because most of my meaningful moments came back to Him and His thoughts. I think it has something more to do with what people do when they get in situations like that. You're showing up to this thing where you sit with a bunch of people you somewhat know with the intent of finding some deep spiritual truth that no one in the history of the world has discovered before in the course of about 30 minutes. What usually ends up happening is that someone asks generic questions that the verse just read obviously answers. If not that, then things head off on the most impractical yet divisive theological issues you can think of. I hope to never attend another Bible study again. On the other hand I very much hope to explore life through the thoughts of God, within deep relationships, many more times.

These sorts of encounters didn't always have a singular point. They sort of meandered around whatever God forsaking trouble I, or my co-explorer had got into, asking the whys and hows and how to get back to innocence. I don't apologize to say that not everything in life has to be a coherent, singular, point. Record your focused conversation sometime and see just how thesis like it really is. This doesn't scare me as much as it used to. I don't think this means that life isn't coherent, I think it just means that maybe the unifying theme is something deeper and more relational than a few tidy points. Maybe that's why we can't wait for the Bible study to get over so we can play cards and laugh together.