Bonus Day

My wife and I officially dubbed December 23 this year, “Bonus Day.” Often we don’t get off of work for Christmas break until the 23rd, making our Christmas stay with my family a mad dash of present opening and event hopping. We arrive, have to rush to fit everything in, then rush to leave to go see her family and rush through it all once again. This year, however, our last day of work was the 22nd. We were able to take the 23rd and simply relax at my parents house: no agenda, no schedule, no gifts to open. It was magnificent. I loved Bonus Day.

We got a Bonus Day at Emily’s family’s house as well on December 26. We opened presents on the evening of the 25th, but the 26th had no schedule at all. It was another great day.

My two Bonus Days got me thinking about how and why humans gather with the people they love. Usually, especially with the distance between families and friends in today’s culture, a special occasion is required for people to get together. An event needs to be planned, like a wedding, a funeral, or Christmas present opening. These are incidents that we make priorities, and we should. They are celebration-worthy.

However, I don’t think we have enough bonus days. We need to make more room for them, make them priorities, find ways to gather with absolutely nothing on the agenda. Weddings are busy - so often the bride and groom and their families lament that they wish they had been able to talk to more people there. Christmas can be hectic, especially when trying to make room for present-opening, church services, and other traditions that are important but fill the schedule.

Essentially what I’m trying to get at here is that I’ll probably have way more memories from my two Bonus Days this year than I will from the actual Christmas events. I’ll remember a spirited game of Wii bowling, my 4-year old leading an exercise workout for all of us requiring invisible kettlebells, and competing to see who could get Jeopardy answers out before the others in the room. I’ll remember the multi-category cooking contest put on by my wife’s family, listening to my daughter laugh while throwing rocks into the river to break the ice, and the random conversations with a family friend around the table. All of these things were possible only on Bonus Day, on unscheduled, uneventful, unplanned time together.

On Friday night several good friends will be staying with Emily and I for one more Bonus Day. The only thing on the schedule is dinner at 8. For the rest, we’ll see where the wine and the conversation takes us.

I love Bonus Day.

How?

Watching the news, following politics, or just watching ordinary people and their actions, it's difficult to avoid the question of how? How will our weak-minded excuse of a Congress ever get anything done? How will the economy ever recover? How will I get disinterested teenagers to care about their education? How can I send my daughters out into the world and hope for the best? How will the college football world ever fix the BCS bowl mess?

Okay, some of these questions are more important than others, but it's tough to have hope for whatever one wants to hope in without seeing how something might be done. It's easier and more logical to be cynical. I have relationships in my life that I'd like to be better, but I can't see how that will ever be possible. I love to dream big with my life, but some of my dreams come with no "how" map. I want to believe that the public school system will be better, that our government will be better, and that small towns and small schools in Iowa have a bright and growing future. I just don't see how. Without the "how," there's no real hope.

I've lost hope in a lot, and I don't believe unreasonably so. Facts are facts: it does no good to delude myself into embracing impossible utopias in the name of being a "positive person." It's important to keep searching for "how's" with the really important stuff - curing cancer, overcoming hunger, that sort of thing - even when the answer is so hard to come by. But sometimes a spade is a spade is a spade.

I was reminded, though, on Christmas morning, that the answer of "how" to so many questions can be answered quite simply. The text in church was from Isaiah's prophecy in Chapter 9:

"For unto us a Child is born,

Unto us a Son is given;

And the government will be upon His shoulder.

And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor,

Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. . .

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this. (9:6-7)

In an impossible time, among a people desperate for something different and something better, Isaiah tells them it's going to fine. How? The zeal of the Lord. If it is his will, it will be done. Virgin mother? No problem. Betrayal? Easy. Ridiculously ineffective religious leaders? Who needs them. A little omniscient zeal works every time, in all times, with all peoples. If you're going his way, if you've got a kingdom agenda, "how" is a much easier question to answer.

How will I reconcile a hopeless relationship? How will I find the energy to pray? How will I be forgiven for the black deeds in my life? How will I, in all my weaknesses, become who God has designed me to be? How will I lead my children through the minefield of a me-first American culture hell-bent on handouts and hubris?

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this. . .

A Servant to Emulate

Pregnancy can be a scary ordeal. Perhaps "anxiety-inducing" is a better term. Regardless of situation, the topic of pregnancy produces anxiety, both good and bad. I remember various stages of "pregnancy anxiety" over the course of my marriage. Early on I remember an unplanned situation in which we thought Emily could be pregnant (she wasn't). Anxiety. I remember the intimidating process of deciding when we were "ready" to try to become pregnant. More anxiety. I then remember learning that she was pregnant, then experiencing difficulties, and later successes, and later children that were all of a sudden here and mine and full of smiles and needs. Major anxiety. And now I have conversations with friends of similar ages and circumstances, all centered around the topic of, "Are you done? Do you think you'll have another? What's your plan?"

Becoming pregnant, avoiding pregnancy, planning pregnancy, and experiencing pregnancy are all situations that are loaded with emotions, life-altering decisions, and careful consideration. It's not something that people in our culture like to be surprised about.

When I remember that Mary was a real person, a young, unmarried female with real goals and aspirations and plans, the account of the events before Jesus was born are fascinating. And most fascinating of all is that she had to respond to being an unwed virgin mother. She didn't plan for this; she couldn't even conceive (no pun intended) of the possibility. Then all of a sudden an angel shows up and says, "By the way, you're pregnant. Ready to be a mom? Oh, by the way, the child is not normal. You've heard of the Messiah? Yeah, good luck raising him. Don't screw up, okay? And tell your fiance not to worry."

Anxiety. Big anxiety. I'd have a few words for the angel if I were Mary. I'd ask a lot of "Why me?" questions. I'd complain loudly and rush out to tell other people how I got screwed over and it wasn't even my fault (one of my all-time favorite things to do when tough times are thrust upon me). I'm sure Mary had anxiety. She even had a few words for the angel. But they are rather unlike what mine might have been:

"Behold, the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word." (Luke 1:38)

Mary's whole world has been changed. Everything she grew up envisioning for herself is likely never going to happen, and she knows that. Her personal aspirations are dead. And her response to God? "Thy will be done."

Mary recognizes what I have so much trouble remembering - my life is not my own. I don't exist to be comfortable, nor do I exist for my own plans. The death of self is crucial in the life of a disciple of Christ. Anxiety-laden times reveal the character of people. The young virgin had it all figured out. She is a servant to emulate.

Philosophy 6: Knowledge is Fluid

Here is my sixth and final post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This is my second writing dealing with epistemology (What is knowledge? What does it mean to know?). I hope you’ve enjoyed the series.

Philosophy position #6: Knowledge is fluid.
What I know is constantly changing. That doesn’t mean I was wrong before or that I didn’t truly “know” something; it simply means that I can know it better or more thoroughly now. The concept of love is perhaps my favorite example of this. When I told my future wife that I loved her when we were eighteen, I knew what love is and I meant it. Three years later on our wedding day, my knowledge of love was stronger. Now, ten years, two kids, and three moves later, I shudder to think about the difference between what I know now and what I knew then. Again, I wasn’t wrong before; I just know more thoroughly now. When it comes to love, I fully intend to know exponentially more in twenty-five years as I do now. This is true for love, God, basketball defensive theory, and Transcendental literature.

Because knowledge is fluid, I can’t fully “know” if I don’t keep pursuing this knowledge. I can’t follow the crowd and embrace an “ignorance is bliss” approach. It’s a tempting road to take. New knowledge, or better knowledge, carries with it consequences. To add to knowledge and know more fully requires living according to the new or better knowledge. That equates to change. At the cost of comfort. But comfort kills. Therefore, I can accept that I know something now and that I still need to pursue deeper knowledge.

Philosophy 5: To Know Requires Time

Here is my fifth post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This is my first writing dealing with epistemology (What is knowledge? What does it mean to know?).

Philosophy Position #5: To know requires time.
Acquiring knowledge is earned. I don’t believe that I can just hear something and then know it. Instead, I’ve got to wrestle with it, turn it around in my head, experiment with the truth of it, talk about it, and reflect on it. Studying and reading are great; however, how often do we get things right the first time? How often do we hear a statement, get excited about its “truth,” share it with someone else as if it’s gospel, then forget all about it in a matter of days? No, knowledge must be handled and battled against in order to discover its strength. If the knowledge acquired isn’t tested, it is a weak, fleeting knowledge.

My knowledge about God continues to be something I wrestle with and seek to refine. Classroom practices are another example, as I don’t really know the quality of a strategy until I’ve tried it, usually multiple times. Good literature must be reread, questioned, and discussed in order to be “known.” People especially fall into this category. My best friends are the ones I’ve experienced life with. I earned knowledge about them by putting the time in and discovering more and more through experience. Those experiences are a kind of knowledge, perhaps even the best kind.

Philosophy 4: Keeping Score

Here is my fourth post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This is my second writing dealing with ontology (the study of what it means to be. . . a human, a man, a teacher, a citizen, etc). I’ve addressed this topic before in the blog, but I think it bears repeating.

Philosophy Position #3: Don’t keep score. What it means to be an effective person in relationships is to follow this advice. I heard this mantra from a fellow teacher in my community a few months after moving back to Iowa. I needed help on a home improvement project; he encouraged me to ask several of the guys who were on the staff. I did, they helped, and the job was done marvelously. Afterward I started talking about how appreciative I was and that I really owed them all. At that point my friend told me there was only one rule for using this help: don’t keep score. I was told to ask when I needed something, and just make sure that when somebody needed something from me that I was there. I haven’t paid for a home improvement project in years following this advice. We don’t worry about who owes who, about how many favors we’ve done for one person and when it’s going to be our own turn. We don’t worry about who bought the last round or the last pizza. Nobody owes anybody anything.

I’ve heard this given as marriage advice as well, and I try to apply it to that area of my life. It’s hard. During the summer when I’m home alone with my daughters all day, it’s easy to start counting up all the housecleaning chores I’ve done and the number of diapers I’ve changed. It’s easy for her in the dead of basketball season to count the number of hours I’m even home, let alone compare our workloads. However, we’ve gotten pretty good at not keeping score. There is no ledger of wrongdoings or service. When we’re careful about it, there’s just love. And if I did start to keep score, I would do an awful lot of losing. I think I’ll keep the scoreboard lights shut off.

See related post.

Philosophy 3: To Be a Teacher

Here is my third post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This writing deals with ontology (the study of what it means to be. . . a human, a man, a teacher, a citizen, etc). Though not religious in nature, my discussion below on education and being a teacher is one I feel all can benefit from or should at least consider. What is the role of our public schools and their teachers today? My thoughts on this trend away from the current educational approaches by governments and educational leaders alike. I fear the day when my approach no longer has a place in the public schools. I’d love to hear what you think:

Philosophy Position #3: To be a teacher means to provide opportunities for success for my students.

I emphasize the word “opportunities” here, as I don’t believe whether or not they decide to pursue that success is up to me. I can lead a horse to water, but I can’t make him drink. Metaphorically speaking, it’s my job to bring the horse to the water, explain just how good the water is, describe it’s nutritional benefits over the course of their lifetime, and maybe even splash some on them. Being a teacher means splashing in the water myself, drinking fully from it, and attempting to convince the horse just how thirsty they are. My job is to show them the way to success and make it as attractive as possible over and over and over again. It’s each student’s individual choice to go experience it.

Schools (like mine) love to flood their mission statements with phrases such as “ensure learning for all.” I’m a little too realistic for that. I can’t “ensure” anything. Nor should I. Kids have to own their knowledge, own their skills, and own their education. They have to have something invested in it in order for it to matter. If they don’t, perhaps we are irreparably weakening our democracy. Schools today are struggling because they are working harder than the students to get them to pass. Schools fear student failure more than students do. I refuse to join that camp. I will challenge students and teach them what they don’t want to know but need to. I will bring the learning to them. I just can’t make them take it.

Philosophy 2: The Root of Evil

Here is my second post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. Like the first, it deals with axiology (study of values and morality, right and wrong, etc.).

Philosophy Position #2: The root of all evil and unhappiness comes as a result of attempting to make a god of oneself.

One of my favorite quotes to put on the board in my classroom and have students respond to in writing is from Thomas Merton: “To consider persons and events and situations only in the light of their effect on myself is to live on the doorstep of hell.” There’s no question that this is the great challenge of my life. I battle against this every day. When the alarm clock goes off, instead of being grateful for breath, the day’s possibilities, and my family, I curse about being tired and having to go to work. Instead of looking first to serve my wife and kids, I get frustrated about the lack of hot water, or being out of my favorite cereal, or the mess of toys I see everywhere. I seek to enter conversations in which I can offer my own complaints, and I see people as obstacles to productivity. This is a miserable way to live. Luckily, I don’t approach the world like this all day or every day. But that desire is in me - the desire to believe I deserve comfort, the desire to believe I deserve the world to revolve around me, the desire to be worshipped by others.

I see evidence of this in much of the literature that I teach, written both by Christians and non-Christians. The happiest characters are those who have discovered that joy is found in valuing others over the self and who see themselves as small in comparison to the rest of the world. Obviously I bring God into this and maintain that full happiness is arrived while focusing on Him. To be disconnected from God is to invite dissatisfaction with life, and that disconnection occurs most easily when my focus is on the self.

To Whoever Has Been Given Much. . .

My blogging activity in the past month or two hasn't been as productive as I'd like, primarily because I've been working on a final paper for my philosophy course. The paper is now done, and many parts of it are relevant to this blog. One of the parts of the paper asked me to describe 6 philosophies of life that I try to live by. I've decided to post several of these here over the next week or so. They're brief - a couple of paragraphs each - and simply attempt to lay out some of the guiding principles in my life. Hopefully you find the reading worthwhile. . .

Philosophy Position #1: To whoever has been given much, much will be expected.
This axiological (concerned with good and evil, right and wrong, values) statement addresses the question of what is required of me in life. I embrace this phrase. It is a great burden that I carry, but it is one that I am happy to bear. The bottom line here is that for me to engage in “right living,” I must live up to my blessings.

This is a challenge for me, because I have been hugely blessed. Reading and education have always come easy to me. Frankly, I rarely have had to struggle in any educational setting. Also, I was given a safe upbringing with two parents who loved me, supported me, and challenged me. I have been given a loving, sacrificial wife who I met early in life. Trouble has avoided me, not necessarily because I’m a “good person” but because I’ve never been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was born passionate and competitive, and I have been spared a great deal of pain my life. Other than with Costa Rican coffee and Nutty Bars, I’ve never struggled with addiction. I’ve always been surrounded by good friends, challenging mentors, and instruction on God. At this point in my career, I’m financially secure. Life has been good to me.

My morality says that I must, therefore, produce a great deal of fruit in this lifetime. Learning is an obligation (though one I enjoy), because I have the ability. There are others in the world who know less, who have less, who have been loved less. It is my joy and responsibility to improve their lives in some way, to offer what I can. I’ve been given a great wife; I am held accountable for treasuring her every single day. I must help where I can, be who I can, and passionately pursue good. And a great deal of good is in the pursuit itself.

Attacked By Oswald

In my mind there is no greater author and no better text (outside of Scriptures) at quickly and effectively challenging Christians and providing a necessarily blunt wake-up call to all things spiritual than Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest. I'm not a "devotional" kind of guy; I never have been. But this book, set up in one page increments for each day of the year, is so full of reflection-worthy commentary that I find myself spending a great deal of time on each page. I highly recommend this text to anyone unfamiliar with it.

I've picked the text up off my shelf and have been carrying it around in my bag the last few weeks, reading a passage or two over my lunch hour and taking notes. In my last few readings, Chambers has had challenging words regarding the "death of the self" and truly being a living sacrifice. Christians like me tend to give lip-service to making our lives all for the purposes of God and "seeking His will" in our lives. Chambers has some piercing quotes that really question one's commitment to this idea:

• "We are not sanctified for ourselves. . . Things happen which have nothing to do with us; God is getting us into fellowship with Himself."
• "The first thing God does with us is to get us based on rugged Reality until we do not care what becomes of us individually as long as He gets His way for the purpose of His redemption."
• "If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."
• "If you are going to be used by God, He will take you through a multitude of experiences that are not meant for you at all, they are meant to make you useful in His hands, and to enable you to understand what transpires in other souls so that you will never be surprised at what you come across."
• "The circumstances of a saint's life are ordained of God. In the life of a saint there is not such thing as chance."
• "I have to learn that the aim in life is God's, not mine. God is using me from His great personal standpoint, and all He asks of me is that I trust Him, and never say - Lord, this gives me such heartache. To talk in that way makes me a clog."
• "If God has made your cup sweet, drink it with grace; if he has made it bitter, drink it in communion with Him."

Thought these might be worth sharing here. They really punched me in the gut, which Chambers is quite adept at doing. Hopefully something here challenges you the way they've challenged me.

Joe Paterno and Me

I have to be careful because it seems that so many are rushing to say something about Joe Paterno in light of all that's happened in the last week. I'd like to avoid that. Instead, I'd prefer to focus on the situation surrounding Paterno itself, not necessarily the man and what he should or should not have done. Here, then, are some reflections about the current fall of a coaching icon:

1. Many, many people are heart-broken to see a beloved football coach fall from grace so quickly. Others are "disappointed" in his actions or lack thereof. This disappointment is the logical and typical end anytime we as humans deify other humans. This was inevitable. It was inevitable because Joe Paterno is a human being. Joe Paterno is not perfect. Joe Paterno is, frankly, a sinner. And so am I. If you follow anyone long enough, get close to them, learn more about them, the inevitable result is that they will disappoint you. Somehow, someway you will not like a decision they made, an action they took or didn't take, or beliefs they hold. They will let you down.

This is what happens when we try to make a god out of a human being. We will be let down. Our history is full of such people. JFK and Martin Luther King, Jr. were/are both beloved leaders in our country. Both of them had extra-marital affairs. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa "saved baseball" with an epic homerun battle, and then we found out both of them were cheating the whole time. Athletes, celebrities, politicians, and church leaders, over and over and over again, have fallen to some scandal or another. We see more of it today than we did in previous generations. I don't think it's because humanity is getting worse; it's because the time of privacy is dead. We just know more about our heroes now than we ever did before. And it seems like the more we know, the more inevitable it is that we will be disappointed in some way.

The rewards are different based on what we choose to worship. Worship humans - get disappointed. Worship God, and have a solid, unmovable foundation on which to direct praise.

2. While humans are not good targets for deifying, they are great for emulating. Not all the details of what Paterno knew or didn't know are out; however, many of the details of his 60 years of coaching are. Those actions are worth emulating. By and large, Coach Paterno did things the right way. He positively impacted thousands of people, a university, and a community. So much of what he did is worth celebrating and imitating. Joe Paterno, from what I know of him, is a sinner and a good man. His contributions are worthy of focus.

As I said before, JFK and MLK did magnificent things for our country. Those contributions are worthy of focus as well. Our culture wants to deify, then burn at the stake at the first sniff of wrongdoing. I'm suggesting a middle ground: Expect to be disappointed, but focus on the good. When I think about all the people in my life that I've looked up to, treasured, or even revered, I know they've all let me down in some way. Some of my heroes in life have been racist, impatient, mean-spirited, self-righteous, unfaithful, and on and on and on. But they've been so good in other ways that they've been worth emulating, worth befriending, worth learning from.

The situation at Penn State this week has shown that Joe Paterno isn't perfect and is a sinner. So are you. So am I. I know I've disappointed my wife, my children, my parents, my family, my friends, my players, and my co-workers many times over my life. Though at times it was unintentional, I still haven't perfectly lived up to any standards of great human behavior. I'm sure it will happen again. I just hope that those people will remember whatever good I've done, and focus on that, while seeking an example of perfection from above.

I will remember Joe Paterno, football coach, as a solid leader who made people better. I hope those in my life have it in them to see me with the same rose-colored glasses.

Running on Empty

Been on somewhat of a blogging hiatus the last two weeks. No time, no energy, and nothing to say, I was frustrated and wasn't sure where to go. Then I looked into the notebook I carry with me full of random notes I take, and I saw this appropriate quote I recently wrote down: "Take it as a rule without exception, that to be able to overflow spontaneously you must be full."

And there it is. I am most certainly not full. In fact, I've been running on empty for quite a while. I have failed to fill myself with time for thought and reading and prayer, so I've had very little to give. Frankly, I've never been this mentally weary heading into a basketball season as I am right now. This week I've taken some steps towards refilling and refocusing - fasting, reading some Oswald Chambers, dressing less casually to improve my focus, taking a personal day - and I hope to come out of it more effective and overflowing so that I might better serve my students, my players, my family, any readers I've still got, and myself.

While I attempt to refill, I do have a few random notes to offer that I've collected over the past couple of weeks. Hopefully, in the absence of overflowing, something here might prove helpful to you:

• Some great perspective from Arthur Ashe: "If I ask 'Why me?' as I am assaulted by heart disease and AIDS, I must ask 'Why me?' about my blessings, and question my right to enjoy them."
• If one key to connecting with people is through questions about their lives, Christians as a whole have some work to do: "Because Christians tend to be answer people, we're not especially skilled at asking good questions; questions that aren't simplistic, leading, or downright insulting." (Tim Downs, in his book Finding Common Ground)
• I wrote recently about living a "live musician" lifestyle. Here's more commentary from a preacher that echoes that sentiment: "I would rather preach than do anything else I know in this world. I have never missed a chance to preach. I would rather preach than eat my dinner, or have a holiday or anything else the world can offer. I would rather pay to preach than be paid not to preach. . ." (Samuel Chadwick) I hope I can say something similar at the end of my days.
• "Prayer is taxing and exacting. Prayer means enduring and denying self, a daily dying by choice. It is wrong when, instead of praying, we do things just to please others." (Leonard Ravenhill)

Does God Hate Comma Splices?

I was furious at some of my students today. Absolutely furious. While checking essays on a Sunday afternoon (something I loathe), I physically wanted to shake something. Anything. As it was too early for a relaxing beverage, I had to leave the table, exhausted and angry, and go do something else. I got out several knives and stabbed pumpkins for the next two hours.

Paper after paper, I read the same mistakes. Often that might mean that there's a hole in my teaching, that there's an area that I've got to cover before students write their next essay. That I can live with. This, however, was much different. During the essay writing process I gave the students a list of common word choice errors. The list included words that absolutely under no circumstances should be used in a paper. We went over the list and the reasoning for it for two days. I didn't stop there. During revision activities in class, students had to search for these errors in their own essays and in the essays of others. That was another three days of class. After all of that, in essay after essay I had students blatantly ignore the words I spoke to them, the notes I gave to them, and the lessons I had them participate in. Many papers are splattered with the very errors I worked so hard to emphasize, the ones I told them would cost them up to two letter grades on their final score. Righteous anger boiled at my dining room table.

By some act of grace, I later got a little perspective. I am who my students are, just on a much larger stage with a much more important grade to get. They (somewhat) enthusiastically take in my words, my notes, and my lessons, then later ignore them when it matters. How is that any different than my recurring habit of studying and nodding in agreement to God's words, his Biblical directions, and the sermons/conferences/books I engage in, then casually ignoring them in my quest for the good life?

Tomorrow when some of my students get their essays back and ask if they can rewrite them for a better grade, I'll tell them no. I've got no mercy for this kind of behavior, this kind of effort. No extra credit. No re-writes. Just do better next time. Learn your lesson. God also isn't going to let me go back and re-do any parts of my life that I've failed at miserably because I didn't pay attention to his notes. I've got to live with those errors, those sins, those times of missed opportunity for great adventure and great joy. I can't gain extra credit from my church attendance.

But his mercy runs much greater than mine as a teacher. He's willing to forget my errors. He was even willing to pay for them. I'm sure he despises my sin at a much greater level than I despise blatant pronoun abuses, but he's constantly offering lessons for me to get it right.

My students will wish for me to be a little more Christ-like tomorrow. But they're just going to have to live with the fact that I have a much nicer teacher than they do.

Simple Commands for the Pursuit of Happiness

In my last post I defended the rich a bit, pointing to their right in our democracy to "the pursuit of happiness." I also said that if they're pursuing it through wealth, it's probably a bad strategy. My experience tells me there is a better way.

While reading the book of Hebrews recently, I began to write down some of the commands for Christians and realized what God is commanding is a list of that which will bring us the most joy. In only one chapter, we get these commands:

• Keep your lives free from the love of money (v. 5)
• Be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you. . ." Therefore, what can man do to me? (v. 5-6)
• Continuously offer a sacrifice of praise (v. 15)
• Do not forget to do good and share with others (v. 16)
• Pray for us (i.e. - lose your self-focus and think of the well-being of others) - v. 18
• Keep on loving each other as brothers (v. 1)
• For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come (v. 14)

When I consider the times in my life that I've done this, I know that joy has followed. When I am content, not coveting, I am at peace. When I am praising, it is an overflow of my joy and appreciation. Helping others and removing the focus from self is also exceptionally liberating. To be in a community of unity, of shared responsibility, of having each other's back is to truly live as a rich man (see Health Care and Chainsaws). And to be future-oriented, to have my eyes on God and eternity rather than my daily complaints, is to gain the ability to lose my daily complaints.

This is one chapter. Of one book. Of one Testament.

Despite it's misuse by many, the Bible was created for our joy.

Point the Finger Where it Belongs: The Church

Don't blame the rich.

I've grown weary of phrases like "pay their fair share" (as I pointed out in my last post) or the blatant criticism of anybody who makes a lot of money and doesn't want to share it. It's not their responsibility. It's not their job. One of our country's founding principles is the right to the "pursuit of happiness." No requirement exists that says, "If your pursuit of happiness brings you gobs and gobs of money, you need to share it to equal things out. You are also responsible for the happiness of others, since you've been so good at obtaining it for yourself." That one hasn't yet made it into the books.

The rich are just chasing happiness in the only way they know how. It's a bad strategy, in my humble opinion; but they have every right to that strategy or any other. If they want to burn their money, they can. It's theirs. They are not legally obligated to use it in a way that makes others happy.

I also tire of Americans trying to tell other Americans that they are too rich and should share. That's asinine. If a lower-middle class American were to go walking through a 3rd world country, I guarantee they'd look like a "super-rich" individual there. If Americans were willing to get rid of this provincial, Americentric view of life, we'd see that any demands for the rich to share a large portion of their excess wealth are demands pointing the finger at 90% of us to bring up much of the rest of the world. If you're at any income level in the U.S. (aside from abject poverty), and you're not willing to give up 70% of your income for the less fortunate, then you really have nothing to say to those who have more money than you.

That's not to say that the right thing to do isn't to help the less fortunate. It absolutely is, for some of us. Don't look to the rich, though. They're just following the rules (for the most part) that have been laid out. Is there anyone to blame, then, that poverty and hunger exist not only in the U.S., but around the world? Who can we wag a finger at, asking when they're going to do something about it? My answer - the church.

While it's not an American principle or law to help those less fortunate, it certainly is a Biblical one. Christ was pretty clear about that. Treat the poor, the homeless, the orphaned, the downtrodden (in Christ's words - "the least of these") as if they were Christ himself. It's not given as an option, as a suggestion, as something that it would be nice to get to. The entire church was built on this principle. America screams of individualism; Christ screamed for the unity of the body. Americans have property rights; Christians are to hold all things loosely except for God.

If there's anyone to blame here, anyone to call out and demand more from, it is those who profess Christianity. Rich Christians, middle-class Christians, and poor Christians have a job to do. That job is to serve, to find those in need and provide for that need as a picture of what Christ has to offer. We are commanded to make the poor our responsibility. If anyone's dropped the ball, it's the group who has claimed it's their responsibility in the first place.

And we weren't told to give of our excess, to give whatever is left over after we have what we want. We were told to give sacrificially. It's a tough command; we have a lot of trouble giving up what we think we've earned (especially if we're locked into a prosperity doctrine). But it's also a great way to pursue that happiness we have a right to - to trust Christ, to help others, to value God and faith and human life all at one time.

Some individual Christians and entire church bodies are doing a magnificent job of this. It won't show up in the newspapers (and shouldn't) because they're just doing their job. It's a fundamental responsibility and role to play in our society. Don't look to the government to fix poverty. Government is either clueless or powerless or both to take care of that problem. Look to the churches. Ask them what they're doing. For they have a greater responsibility, and greater offer of joy, than any of the rich being attacked.

Amazing Grace in the Ghetto

I just got done reading the book Amazing Grace by Jonathan Kozol for my grad class. While the title is in reference to the well-known hymn, the goal of the text (written in the 1990's) isn't to elaborate on God's grace. Instead, the text provides several interviews that Kozol conducts with individuals living in the poorest, most dangerous ghettos of New York City. The pictures of these neighborhoods are ones of constant violence, drug use, disease, poverty, and despair. Kozol highlights specifically the plight of children born into these neighborhoods. Frankly, it is a grim read.

The book's purpose, from my perspective, is for Kozol to push a fairly liberal-minded agenda through a guilt trip to the nation. It is full of phrases like our need for a "fair-minded society" and for the rich to "pay their fair share"; the one constant is the blame of government and society for allowing the ghettos to happen. He's probably right in many of his points; I don't know. I noticed something completely different in the text that I'm sure he didn't intend. In these interview with young and old alike, with those desperate and broken and hurting, the one constant seemed to be God.

Some examples:

- In regards to an older woman in the neighborhood: “Sometimes if I don’t see her for a while, I start to worry. During the winter you don’t see her much. I guess she stays inside. You feel concerned. . . There’s something about this lady that’s mysterious. She knows all the verses of the Bible. It makes everybody happy when they see her.” (45)

- Kozol asks one woman: “How do you remain so calm? What gives you strength?”

“I pray.”
“Does praying really ease the pain?”
“Yes. It does.” (105)

- “I’ve seen a generation die. Some of them was killed with guns. Some lost their minds from drugs. Some from disease. Now we have AIDS, the great plague, the plague of AIDS, the plauge that can’t be cured. It’s true I’ve seen it. I’ve been there. Ive been here in this building 24 years and I have seen it all.”

“How,” I ask her, “do you keep yourself composed?”
“I pray. I talk to God. I tell Him, ‘Lord, it is your work. Put me to my rest at night and wake me in the morning.” (169)

- Anthony, a 13 year old, recounting the story of Samuel: “I would be happy if God called on me,” he answers. “Happy? No! Let me revise that. I would be excited! I would say, ‘Here I am! I’m here, Lord! Over here! I’m down here in the garden.’” (215)

A pastor in the area has an idea why this is: “I believe that the wilderness is where God is found.”

Another pastor has this to say about those not in the wilderness, not in a desperate situation: "Those who have everything they want or need have often the least feeling for religion. The rich are very busy storing everything they can accumulate.” (78)

While I know that some will argue that the desperate are simply using religion as a crutch, that it's a creation of our minds in order to make us feel better and delude ourselves into making peace with the world, I don't think that's the case. C.S. Lewis wrote that, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." The more comfortable we make our lives, the less we see our own sin, our own weakness, and our need for the amazing grace of God. The poor down-trodden do not have this luxury.

I sadly see this in my own life. The more wealth I acquire, the less I talk to God about my money. The longer I'm married to a great woman, the more likely I am to think that I chose my spouse wisely or that I've put in the work to have a loving marriage. I forget that she is a gift from the ultimate Gift-Giver, that she was designed to partner with me. And is it terrible that the more my 4 year old learns about God and talks about Him, the less desperately I pray for her soul? I am ashamed of these facts, but I've committed to honesty in this blog. They seem relevant here.

I don't want the wilderness. I don't want the ghetto. And I certainly don't want poverty or disease or brokenness. I'm scared to death of all of those. But without them, am I broken enough to recognize amazing grace? I fear the answer.

The Day My Heathen Public Education Saved Me

I haven't been able to post recently, as I've been working on my "Defining Experience" paper for my educational philosophy course. The writing prompt is simple: describe a specific event that has had a major impact on my worldview or approach to living. Since this is pretty much the focus of my blog anyway, I thought I'd share a condensed rough draft here. Perhaps by posting this it will provide a better perspective for my readers regarding why I think/write the way I do. Here it is:

Everyone hated Dr. Kaylor. A large percentage of freshmen at the University of Northern Iowa him as their professor for Humanities I during the fall semester, and I was one of them. In a lecture hall of three to four hundred students, he was a belligerent, unhelpful, pompous jerk who enjoyed talking above his students, calling on them individually in order to mock their answers, and requiring of them impossible exams for which there was no adequate study method. He was Satan; and I, along with my fellow freshmen, were in the depths of hell. UNI was a great place, but Dr. Kaylor was too much to take. He was the one blemish (albeit a huge one) in a land of post-secondary Paradise. Somehow, someway, he’s also the starting point for the worldview I espouse today.

I walked into my tenure at UNI full of confidence, though I’m not sure any of it was well-founded. Though a good student in high school with a high ACT score and a class rank of 3^rd, I never really had to work for any of my academic success. I did have to work for any athletic success I achieved; but alas, that “success” was becoming merely an above-average athlete at best, good but not great. Still, I was confident in my work ethic and desire for learning, and I also had confidence in my faith.

I grew up in a serious Christian Reformed home; both my father and mother were raised in this denomination. Church was on Sunday morning and Sunday evening, and Wednesday nights were for the youth church gathering called AWANA. There was no alcohol in the house or ever consumed by my parents, we didn't shop on Sundays, and meals were ended with an evening devotional. I was born Christian, raised Christian, and behaved Christian. I acted the right way, stayed out of trouble, knew basic Biblical tenets, and was sure of my salvation. John Calvin himself would have been proud (though Jonathan Edwards might have questioned my “conversion” experience). While I was in no way “on fire” for the faith, I had that confidence I’ve written of that I had that part of my life figured out. Enter Dr. Kaylor.

My defining experience occurred in the middle of a lecture in which Dr. Kaylor was torturing students, demanding them to respond to his questions in this expansive lecture hall, then torturing them for the answers they provided for everyone to see. The topic on this particular day happened to be religion.

I would venture to guess that most students in that room were much like me at the time. Most of us, I’m willing to wager, had never been challenged in this way before; we were waiting for the fill-in-the-blank study guide with all the answers to study ten minutes before exams. We were sure we were somehow being mistreated, as our immediate educational needs (i.e. handholding) were not being met. We knew that Dr. Kaylor didn’t have a shred of credibility, as so many students were struggling in the class. We knew exactly who to blame. None of this absolves him. He still, to the best of my recollection, was an ass, and a bad teacher to boot. However, in an effort to paint a true picture, I must include the pampered mindset that many of us went into that room holding during our first semester of life at the university. We were incredulous at the idea that we must take this man’s cruelty and educational malpractice.

I’m sure I also fit the typical demographic of the classroom as an Evangelical Christian who was raised that way and had experienced very few challenges to that faith. We believed that Jesus is good and true; our traditions and teachings are right; and more importantly, that God = love. The ideal of George Carlin’s “Buddy Christ” from the film Dogma was alive and well in our hearts.

I firmly believe Dr. Kaylor knew all of this and that he felt like rocking the boat a little bit. I also believe he took great pleasure in not only rocking that boat, but shaking 18 year olds out of their own religious boat entirely, never to return to the safety of the cabin. On this particular day, questioning members of the class about the goodness of God, Dr. Kaylor had armed himself with obscure quotes from the Bible that suggested a wrathful, angry God, a God who was unfair, full of spite, and a murderer. Students in the class were taking great offense. The sad part about it, though, was that no one had any kind of retort. We all got eaten up by an atheist’s ability to quote Scripture. I kept my mouth shut and laid low. Defeated, I limped my bruised and battered religious confidence back to my dorm room after class, questioning everything.

This is the moment that changed if not my trajectory, then at least my resolve. I decided that if I had no answers regarding my faith, no reason for what I believed, and no knowledge of the central text of the faith to make me capable of defending my positions, then I had no religion. If I was to be a person of faith, I must get serious about it. I put every belief on the table, ready to sort into either a “discard,” “keep,” or “update” file. Then I started reading. I haven’t stopped since.

This is not the typical “testimony” heard so often that includes deep falls into an abyss of casual sex, belligerent drinking, recreational drug use, and Buddha worship. I didn’t become a different person, nor did I make a lot of life-altering mistakes. I simply quit accepting traditions of the church in which I grew up at face value. I no longer wanted to “believe” anything: I wanted to know. I wanted answers that were more solid than “because that’s how I was raised” or “I just don’t think a loving God would do that.” How exactly should I treat the Sabbath? What’s with this predestination stuff? Infant baptism or believer baptism? What is my ultimate purpose? What does real faith look like? Real prayer? Why should I pray if God already knows what I need? Can the Bible be trusted?

One of the best practices this ordeal taught me to do is seek out smart people and ask a lot of questions. I tried to surround myself with others who were as passionate as I was about seeking truth but had been doing it for a lot longer than I had. I was rarely the smartest individual in the room, and I didn’t need to be. I wanted to learn, to listen, to adapt and achieve clarity of thought. I began meeting with a mentor of sorts, and we discussed theology and leadership theory. I studied and discussed in my free time, and there was no shortage of opportunity for this on a university campus. I talked to people who pushed my thinking and who also had a significantly different worldview from my own. I no longer wanted to be sheltered, to listen only to those with whom I agreed.

The journey continues today. I have great confidence in what I know, as well as a willingness to re-sort the piles on my figurative table to suit the new knowledge and experience that I gain. Emerson wrote in “Self-Reliance” that, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. . . With consistency a great soul simply has nothing to do.” I’ve given up consistency of thought for the rewards of passionate yet developing thought.

This quest for ultimate truth has led me on a winding path that maintains vision of the mountain, no matter how far to the right or the left it meanders. Although it has been a truly academic experience, the knowledge gained has led to intense and fulfilling emotional responses to the goodness of a God that I now know instead of claim to know. I am wiser, more humble, and starving for the truths that I still have not yet come to understand.

Eyes Wide Shut

In my last post, I explored the concept of ontology (the study of what it means “to be”) from my grad class by referencing a quote and some commentary from a fellow student. Tonight I move to epistemology.

Epistemology is the study of what is knowledge. What does it mean to know? How do we know that we know? And on and on. I used the same paradoxical quote that the aforementioned fellow student used: “I shut my eyes in order to see.” Except, I used it as a basis for my epistemological approach to life. Here’s what I wrote:

Knowledge is very rarely what is immediately in front of my eyes, or at least not completely that. It’s just not that easy. While it’s tempting to make it that easy and to decide that something is absolutely true based on immediate evidence, I’ve found it be fairly reckless to be sure of something based on that quality alone.

To really know, to have knowledge and wisdom and confidence in what we think we know, requires a long-term (sometimes years-long) acquisition of experience, study, and reflection. One example is with people. If we base what we “know” about a person based on what’s right in front of our eyes this second, we will either be dead wrong or only cognizant of a small fraction of the truth. We must take what we see, add it to all our other experiences and conversations with this individual, and balance it in order to create knowledge about that person. That can’t happen in a day. There have been many days when I’ve been agitated with some of my best friends in the world, and I’m sure I’ve produced similar feelings in them. Had they or I made judgments based only on what was in front of us at that moment, it would be a lonely life. When I close my eyes, I get much closer to knowing.

The same is true of study, especially in education. Too often educators get caught up in what they are reading right now, of what “the research says” in the article in this month’s journal, or this year’s best-seller, or this conference’s keynote speaker. And that’s not true. If we close our eyes and combine it with years and years of study and experience, we can come closer to “knowing” the truth. I also love to study leadership theory. There’s a new book out every 12 seconds touting a brand new approach to leadership. If I were to embrace each book, each article, each speaker that’s before my eyes as having absolute knowledge, I’d be lost. Instead, I must slow down, reflect, and alter my “knowledge” where appropriate. I assume this to be the case in every profession.

This is especially true for me in obtaining “knowledge” about my faith. I’ve come to realize that I can have complete faith at the same time I have a working theology. What I was convinced of when I was 18 has changed considerably now. What I read or hear from religious leaders now I’m also careful to handle with care, or at least with lots of reflection and prayer. In fact, each time I read Bible passages, they seem to speak a different “knowledge.” A lot of that is dependent on my life scenario at that point in time, and a lot is also dependent on prior “knowledge” I bring to the table in my reading.

I guess my point here is that the here and now, the immediate, carries with it too much emotion to call it knowledge. We rush off and can't wait to share with somebody what we just learned, how it's changed how we see everything, how it can save their career/life/soul. Perhaps we shouldn't be in such a rush. Positive or negative, everything we see, read, hear, and speak is colored by biases. In order to remove the color and obtain true knowledge, I must fade to black, eyes wide shut, in reflection.

Piles of Laundry and Spilled Dog Food

In my philosophy course for grad school right now, we've been talking about ontology, epistemology, and axiology. It's some pretty heavy stuff, and I see it influencing the next few posts here on the blog.

Today I'd like to look at ontology, which is the study of what it means "to be." What does it mean to be a man? What does it mean to be a husband? A teacher? A Christian? What does it mean to be me?

A woman in the class, whose work I've really enjoyed reading, had an interesting post that I read this morning. The assignment asked us to choose from a list of paradoxes that help to define what our ontological view is. She chose the quote, "I shut my eyes in order to see" (Paul Gauguin). Her point was this: if she lets what is immediately in front of her eyes define who she is, physical distractions such as "piles of laundry . . and spilled dog food" can keep her from forming a real identity.

This struck a chord with me this morning. I had just done a walk through my house , making a mental list of what needs to get done in order to simply survive the weekend in the house. And five minutes after it’s clean and orderly, it will fade back into piles of laundry and spilled dog food. Is this what it means to be me? Is this fatherhood and manhood? Is this seriously my life, seriously how I spend almost every waking minute, managing the chaos of piles of laundry and spilled dog food? That's where it gets scary, where people really start to question why they had kids, or why they're in their marriage. They must get past what their eyes tell them at that moment.

If I don’t close my eyes every once in a while, I forget that “being” is much more than that. I forget just how good it is to “be” in the midst of all that laundry and dog food, of how lucky I am, of how much joy it all brings. I love my wife, I love my kids, and I love my dog. Admittedly, what's in front of my eyes is, at times, a little discouraging, especially when what's in front of my eyes is throwing a fit or peeing on the floor. But it's only discouraging as long as I forget that what it means "to be" me is a man who has everything that anyone serious about happiness could ever want.

It's hard a lot of days. When your eyes sees an expensive car repair, an illness, a mess of toys and dishes everywhere, or repeated rejection, it's easy to begin believing that's what defines you, that that's what it means "to be" you. When you let both the figurative and literal piles of laundry and spilled dog food in life be your focus, it's going to be depressing some days.

You've got to close your eyes at those times. That isn't you. Don't let your eyes speak. Close your eyes and listen to God remind you of who you are.

Persevering in Prayer

My year-long struggle with maintaining a regular prayer life continues. I reread a book this summer called The Contemporaries Meet the Classics on Prayer, this time taking notes as I read. It's a collection of short essays, book and sermon excerpts, etc. that Christian leaders from the last 2,000 years have written. One heading I have in my collection of notes is "Persevering in Prayer."

I've struggled with this, as I've been loathe to pray when the mood doesn't strike me. I fear not being authentic in my praying, so I've stayed away from forcing prayer when I just didn't feel like it. In my mind, that meant it would be in some ways fake, routine, and empty talk. After reading this text, I realize I was wrong.

Below are some of the quotes I've taken from the text that I wanted to share. I feel like a hypocrite for posting advice on prayer, but my weaknesses don't make any of these ideas any less true.

My notes:

• prayer is a relationship in which you allow God to see so much that you would rather leave in darkness. It’s going to be rare to feel like doing this. (151)
• resistance to praying is the desire to cling tightly to yourself (151)
• “The visible world daily bludgeons us with its things and events. . . Few people arise in the morning as hungry for God as they are for cornflakes or toast and eggs. . . (However), We are required to ‘bet our life’ that the visible world, while real, is not reality itself.” (157-9)
• Waiting for the right mood is impossible. “Make up your mind in advance to keep your course steady, when you feel like it and when you don’t. . . A man who surrenders to these variable moods is doomed to inefficiency. . .” (160-1)
• Dean Goulburn: “When you cannot pray as you would, pray as you can.” (161)
• “So if you are averse to pray, pray the more.” (162)
• Charles Spurgeon: “We should pray when we are in a praying mood, for it would be sinful to neglect so fair an opportunity. We should pray when we are not in a praying mood because it would be dangerous to remain in so unhealthy a condition.” (163)
• “The less one depends on feelings, the more one is prepared for union with God” (193)
• “We refuse to pray unless it thrills or excites us, which is the most intense form of spiritual selfishness. . . When you labor at prayer, from God’s perspective there are always results.” (258)

Reflection on Reflection

As a follow up to my previous post on some of the major concepts of philosophy, I've included below some of the thoughts on reflection I've contributed in my current grad class:

Reflection is closely tied with questioning, because it requires the question of how well did I do this? And it's rare, like deep questions, because reflection itself implies that there is a better way. Few want to admit that, and fewer still believe that it's even a possibility. Reflection barely has a chance in American society; it screams of weakness, not of the American way of self-reliance and strength.

One huge challenge that I find in terms of reflection is striking a balance between acting and reflecting. Reflecting is somewhat counterintuitive. Action is celebrated - we are told to do, to accomplish, to win, to work hard. Few are the pep rallies motivating us to slow down and ponder. But effective action requires reflection. With too much action and not enough reflection, the action suffers. The doer becomes mediocre. On the other side, an individual who is constantly reflecting can be paralyzed by self-doubt. Then all of the reflection goes for naught - no improvements can be made on a lack of action (call it the Hamlet syndrome). As with most things in life, balance is key.

Reflection requires a couple of commodities that are increasingly rare in our society as well. One of them is quiet. It's impossible to reflect with a constant stream of messages being inflicted on our brains. Whether its our kids, the TV, the phone, our students, or the radio, our world is filled with noise. And for the most part, we like it that way. We look busy, feel productive, and get entertained. It's a world we've created, consumed, and now demand; it just isn't an environment that allows for a lot of think time.

The other commodity is honest feedback and criticism from people who want the best for you. Rare is the friend who is willing to risk the relationship telling you what you need to hear. Rare is the co-worker willing to deal with the confrontation present in telling a peer they need to do a job better (or at least differently). Rare is the spouse who, instead of complaining to their friends about their beloved, confronts the problem directly in humility. Conflict and confrontation carries with it such emotional baggage that most find it more expedient to say the easy thing. Reflection in all areas of life requires honest outside eyes to show us where our biases have led us astray.

I also believe that reflection is the burden of leadership. Most people have the option of engaging in reflection or not, but not leaders; leaders are not only responsible for their own development, but that of many others as well. When I think about the areas in my life that I spend the most time reflecting, it is those in which I'm in a leadership position. It's my job as a father to lead my family well, and I am in constant reflection regarding what I can do better in that category. As a basketball coach, not a game goes by when I'm not reliving the game, play by play, decision by decision, while I lay in bed late into the night trying to figure out how to reach potential. The classroom is another place that demands my reflection, as I don't want to cheat my students. If one is called on to lead, he/she must figure out how to reflect effectively.

On a related note, reflection in all of us seems to be motivated by having someone to answer to (players, students, boss, family, etc). For Christians, this includes God. A higher power, and prayer to that higher power, causes those of us who are religious to reflect on our spiritual life, as we are certainly answerable to Him. In my life specifically, but also in others whom I’m around, it seems that when we’re only answerable to ourselves, we reflect less. We’re willing to let ourselves down much more quickly than letting others down. I’m sure I reflect regarding items that only affect myself; however, if I’ve got to choose, I’m also going to default to those areas that affect others. Wise or not, I don’t know.

Questions, Anyone?

For my graduate course, “Philosophy of Education,” we’re discussing some of the major concepts of philosophy. Two of those are questioning and reflection. I’ve discovered through writing some of my assignments the following ideas that I thought I’d share here. Let me know what you think.

Regarding questioning:

• One note I have written down from Dr.Walker's lecture is that questions are one way to obtain truth, but those questions have to be deep, probing questions. I think about the way much of our society uses questions today, and it's clear that not many are asking those deep questions, especially of each other. We certainly ask a ton of questions, but many are fairly superficial: How's it going? How was your day? What do you do? Did you have a good weekend? Hot, isn't it? Here we are making conversation, not truth. We already know the answer (or at least the one we expect to get) and are simply attempting to appear interested. Part of the reason for this, frankly, could be the way we now communicate to each other. It's fairly rare for deep, probing questions to be presented on Facebook, Twitter, text messages, and email. And even if there were, would we have the patience to answer? Or the time? No, deep, probing questions come out over a long walk, or a letter, or around a friendly feast with the television turned off. C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and a few of their friends got together regularly for beers, discussion, and mutual critique of their writings. They produced great literature that responds deeply to human questions. We sit around our laptops and cell phones, checking for witty one-liners.

• Another way people use the questions they ask is as an "in" towards talking about themselves. I've never been more aware of this than with talking about my 18-month old daughter. She has a rare skin disease, so rare that we had to go to Mayo to even find someone who had studied it before. Fewer than 200,000 people in the world have this. There are visible spots that are a result of this disease, so we routinely field questions about it from strangers or others she is meeting for the first time. We tell them what the disease is, how rare it is, and what we're doing about it. I estimate that 75% of the time, the response is, "Well I (or someone I know) have something just like that," followed by intricate details of skin lesions. I've caught myself doing it as well in conversations with others, listening in for an opening to share about my experiences. Now I've tried to discipline myself to always ask at least one more question after someone has answered a question of mine towards them. It's been liberating, not trying to desperately fling myself into conversations every chance I get.

• If truth requires questions, then questions require a curiosity to discover new truths. This is not easy, and I don't think many people really want this. The phrase “ignorance is bliss” exists specifically because of the consequences of knowledge. And it’s these same consequences that make most adults, no matter how much they don’t want to admit it, as adamantly opposed to losing their ignorance. If what we know is true, we don’t have to change anything. Add something new or contrary to our existing knowledge, and then we might have to change our actions. Change is hard. I once had someone give me the advice of "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to." I believe most of us take that to heart. We don't want to know that we've got it all wrong, that there is evidence against our beliefs, or that there is a better way of doing things.

• Also, it is essential for growth to surround ourselves with people who are good questioners. And these individuals are hard to find. Without someone in our lives to push us with questions, to require us to think, to ask us to grow, we simply won’t reach potential.

No More Apologies

We just started school here this week; and at the kickoff meeting for all of the teachers, one of my teaching friends was asked to speak to all the teachers in the district. This is no easy task, and she did it quite well. One statement that I really liked inside the speech is when she said she was getting really tired for having to apologize for being a teacher. We seem to be under constant attack, especially from state and federal government. Education is an easy kicking post, and one that's driven constant "reform" efforts for the last century.

Later in the week I was reading the American Literature textbook that I'll be teaching from this year. In some background reading about the Puritans, it was clear that the editors of the text took great offense to any group of people who dared to take religion seriously. Mocked by this "unbiased" and "historical" article, the Puritans were taken to task for their irrational belief that the Bible should be a basis for daily life. It was a bit frustrating to see, but not entirely shocking. Full of half-truths and an air of superiority from the writers, the article exposed the Puritanical sin of religious thinking as opposed to "rational" thinking.

Eventually I connected these two events in my head, and a thought came to mind: I'm also quite tired of feeling a need to apologize for Christian thought in our society today. Now, I'm under no illusion that Christians are somehow oppressed in today's America. However, I do feel an increasing majority demanding that if Christians are going be be open about their faith, they had better simply share it in a "faith-lite" can with great taste and a less "filling" theology. I'm done being okay with that.

Look at the political environment. While I don't support much of his politics, Rick Perry should not have to apologize for organizing a prayer summit. I will never vote for Michele Bachman, but she shouldn't have to explain why she "submits" to her husband and how she could ever run a country with the backwards view of marital mutual respect. And President Obama should never have had to answer to critics who had a problem with him inviting Rick Warren to pray at his inauguration. This is foolishness. Frankly, Mitt Romney should also not spend one minute explaining away his Mormon faith, either.

So I'm done. I will be proud of my faith instead of quietly rationalizing it. I am a zealot. I am "too religious." I'm not going to apologize for the fact that I'm not sure about evolution, but I'm certain there is a Creator. I won't say I'm sorry for having a belief system that I strictly adhere to and respect; not out of intolerance and bigotry, but out of faith in God's promises. I won't rationalize and explain the fact that I believe the whole Bible is the written word of God, not just the parts of it that are convenient and safe.

I understand that I spend a great deal of words on this blog challenging myself and others to be better. I point out weaknesses, and I also am not sorry about that. We must be better. We must hold ourselves to a higher standard and reflect on our weaknesses. Christians individually and as a group have made significant mistakes. But following Christ too well is not one of them. I can no longer apologize for loving Christ and trusting that He is who he says He is. I'm just not sorry.

Desperate Times

I mentioned in my last post that I recently finished reading a book about C.S. Lewis and the radio broadcast talks he gave for the BBC during World War II that eventually became his classic book, Mere Christianity. The book goes into detail to describe the great lengths the BBC went to in order to provide Christian encouragement to England in some severely difficult times in the war. One particular bombing stood out to me:

"The orchestra could not cram itself into the small emergency studio, but Dr. Welch was determined that listeners should not go without their music that night. The microphone was placed under a table, and with bombs crashing all round the building, Dr. Welch delivered his talk, announcer Stuart Hibberd read quietly from the Bible and Paul Beard played the violin on his knees." (p. 77, C.S. Lewis In a Time of War)

This is an act of desperation. With bombs flying and buildings crumbling around them, huddled in some emergency studio because the normal one had been destroyed, these individuals knew just how badly the nation needed Christ at this time. They did not run for cover, seeking their own safety. They risked it all for unknown results. They were merely determined that on this night, during this crisis, England would not have to do without God. If there was comfort and hope and salvation to be found, they would be a part of it.

Where can this sense of desperation be found now? These men knew where their hope came from. There is no other reason to sit under a table a midst bombing, playing hymns on a violin, at the risk of great personal injury or death, unless you know deep in your soul where true comfort comes from. There may be no greater love for a nation than to abandon personal safety and comfort to provide what is so desperately needed.

And what are we desperate for now? What are we willing to go to great lengths for, to endure threats to personal comfort or safety? Football tickets. Political one-upsmanship. A great deal on Black Friday. An opportunity to check our Facebook account. Great abs. This is what I see passion for now, in myself and society. We'll stand in lines, give up sleep, offend friends, and devote countless hours to these.

How desperate are we, though, to provide Christ? How much are we confident that this is what our friends and family and neighbors and enemies need in the middle of all the storms in life? And when we do bridge that gap, do we do so in order to "win one for our side" and prove that we're right, or is it because we're desperate to provide comfort?

We're all thirsty. We're all desperate. All of us. The question, then, is this: what are we desperate for, and what are we providing to those thirsty souls around us?

Anyone Need a Tambourine Player?

I've always wanted to be a live musician.

Ever since college I've been using that analogy to describe the perfect job. My perfect job will never involve a public musical performance, unless doing push-ups to the chorus of Vanilla Ice's classic "Ice Ice Baby" at weddings counts. However, I've always wanted to look like a live musician in a job I choose to do.

If you've ever seen any really good musicians playing live, you know what I'm talking about. The really good ones are not only fantastically skilled, they also make it look easy and appear to be having the time of their lives. They are beside themselves, lost in the passion and skill of doing what they love really, really well. When Emily and I attended Orchard Hill Church in college, there were two individuals there who were phenomenal. Both named Tim, one of them played guitar, and the other played the drums. They were unbelievable. I got a ton of joy just watching them play, and it is only a small fraction of the joy it looked like they were having making music.

This weekend Emily and I, along with my cousin and her boyfriend, went to see Blues Traveler play. John Popper, the band's lead man, was phenomenal. Another friend of mine was there, and while we were listening to Popper do things on the harmonica no human should be capable of doing, we openly hoped the band would be in need of a couple of tambourine players for their next tour. At one point I turned to my friend, an avid exerciser, and said, "Can you believe he's getting paid to do this?! It's like you getting paid for running."

And there it is. That's the beauty of being a live musician in whatever career field you've chosen.

I've also grown up a little bit since college, and I've come to understand a few things about this dream. First of all, no perfect job exists. No matter what job you are in, no matter how perfectly suited you may be for it, at least 10-20% of it you'll probably hate. As much fun as it looked like John Popper was having, I'm quite sure that he wasn't looking forward to all the travel required of him. He maybe even wasn't looking forward to doing the exact same performance, demanding the same energy level from fans, a mere one night later at a different venue. Even though this may be his perfect job, he can't be "live" (and therefore passionate and joy-filled) in all of it. And neither can I.

Secondly, I'm not even sure how instrumental my occupation is for this "live musician" dream/goal. A very good friend of mine stayed at our house for four days a week or two ago. We met ten years ago, and because he now lives in Germany, we don't see each other as often as we'd like. Out for supper with him and my wife on his last evening here, the question was presented to each of us how we had changed in the ten years since we met. After thinking about it, I mentioned that I think I'm a lot less career-oriented now. I'm less worried about climbing a figurative ladder and making a name for myself in some profession. All those things are nice, but I'm not as desperate as I once was for that type of recognition. Of a bigger priority is what my occupation allows me to do. I can't imagine what kind of job opportunity it would take to lure me away from a house I love in a location I love because of its proximity to many of the people I love. I'm in no hurry to "move-up" professionally. Life is too good in too many other ways. When I think about it, I get to be a live musician in many areas of my life. The dream isn't exclusive to work.

I saw this goal put into different words while reading a book about C.S. Lewis, an author who I would say writes like a metaphorical "live musician." In it, Pope John Paul II gave Lewis this praise: he said Lewis "knew what his 'apostolate,' his divine calling was. . ." This, in and of itself, is true of so few people in the world. But the Pope added one more thing: "And he did it." Another person, listening to Lewis deliver the BBC radio broadcasts during WWII that would lay the foundation for his classic Mere Christianity, said this: "Here was a man who was 'laid hold of by Christ and who enjoyed it.'"

This is what being a live musician is all about. This is the high praise of a life lived well - to know what you're being called to by the God of the Universe, and passionately and successfully doing it with joy. Not just in a job, but in an entire life, well-lived.