September Review

I've committed to reporting out on my monthly progress towards the three major goals I have for 2013. Below is my progress for the month of September.

Goal 1: Read 25 books.
I only read one book this month: Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards. It was a challenging read that I intend on writing about throughout October. I'm now at 19 for the year. I'm still on pace, but no longer ahead. I think I'll do some reading tonight.

Goal 2: Write 75 blog posts.
The beginning of the month was slow going, as I had a few other writing commitments that carried greater weight. I caught up towards the end of the month, and this makes six for September. My favorite for the month is probably the post about the nature about busyness. I'm now 58 for the year. Six a month the rest of the way will get me to 75.

Goal 3: Write 25 letters.
Starting this month I needed to average 3 a month to reach my goal, and I completed 3. It's still baffling to me that I'm most reluctant to begin each of these, but I gain perhaps the most reward upon their completion. Seventeen down, eight more to go.

It was a great month of quotes. Here are some of my favorites that I came across:

• "The difference between Christians and non-Christians is not that non-Christians sin whereas Christians don't. The difference is found in what side we take in the battle. Christians take God's side against sin, whereas non-Christians take sin's side against God. . . A Christian will sin, but turn to God again and his word and say, "help me fight my sin." A non-Christian, even if he recognizes his sin, effectively responds, "I want my sin more than God." - Mark Dever
• "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: non only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." C.S. Lewis
• "Self-doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. if you find yourself asking yourself, "Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?" chances are you are. The Counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death." - Steven Prestfield
• "I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguos and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood." - Clyde Kilby
• "The righteous are willing to disadvantage themselves to advantage the community; the wicked are willing to disadvantage the community to advantage themselves." - Tim Keller

And a few articles worth your attention:

• The Meaning of Justice - expounding on the above quote by Kilby.
• Have We Missed the Meaning of the Incarnation?
• The Cul-de-sac of Stupidity

October is a big month. I've beginning a new class, presenting at a conference, and preparing for the basketball season. Obstacles and opportunities abound. Every day matters.

Half the Man I Want to Be

While doing background research about The Great Gatsby in preparation for teaching it to my AP students, I came across this quote from the author, F. Scott Fitzgerald: "The history of my life is the history of the struggle between an overwhelming urge to write and a combination of circumstances bent on keeping me from it."

Here is one of the great American authors, who wrote what many consider to be the "Great American Novel," commenting that despite how good at writing he was, despite how much he wanted to produce mountains of eloquent prose, he found himself struggling to actually get it done.

John Steinbeck, another of the best authors America has had to offer, had something similar to say while struggling to write the book he called his masterpiece, East of Eden: "My brain acts like a bad child, willful and sneering. And oh! the tricks I can use to justify it so that in the end it becomes downright virtuous."

In the midst of writing the book he had been planning for a lifetime, the one he wanted to put all his time and energy into, he found himself creating excuses not to work on it. 

I found myself wondering that if these titans of literature who produced several great texts that changed the face of American literature and have affected thousands of readers struggled to merely do exactly what they passionately wanted to do, then how am I to avoid this fate?

But theirs are not merely the words of a couple of masters of their craft. No, their words are ancient, two thousand years ancient, preceded by the Apostle Paul, who wrote in his letter to the Romans about his own struggles: "For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. . . For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out." And it is here that I find the struggle of my life.

I know exactly who and what I want to be. I know what I want to do. But the struggle to actually be it and do it weighs heavily on me. This month I've written about my desire to remain steadfast in the face of trials and to choose carefully my words in all situations. In one foolish moment of anger this week, I failed at both. I want to be in shape, in control, and in the Bible. I want to be well read and well respected. I want to say no to food after 9 pm, yes to writing and reading. I want to serve and love my wife unconditionally and be patient and loving at all times to my kids. But I am not this. At least not all the time. I snap critically when I could hug, I give in weakly to fatigue and to hunger and to boredom, and I convince myself that whatever it is I need to get done, I'll get to the next day.

Not every day. No, on a lot of days, I am what I want to be. Instead of that being an encouragement, however, it's easy to be further frustrated, as it highlights that I can indeed be it and do it when I decide to.

I write this tonight not because it is my struggle, or Fitzgerald and Steinbeck's struggle, or even Paul's struggle. I write it because I believe it is the human struggle. I believe it's probably yours as well. And more than anything, I want you to know you're not alone.

So what do we do? I'm not sure. Accept mediocrity? Not hardly. Punish ourselves mercilessly? Probably not.

No, the only answer I can come up with, is to abide in the vine: "I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. . . If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. . . These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." (John 15)
T
hat sounds much more effective than trying harder tomorrow. That strategy hasn't worked in centuries.

You're Probably Too Busy to Read This, But. . .

In my last post I discussed the importance of choosing words carefully. One word that most of us need to be much more purposeful about is the word "busy."

"I ran across this today regarding busyness on Tim Challies' blog:

"Busyness is a funny thing. We have a love/hate relationship with it, so that when we are not boasting in it we are apologizing for it, and when we are not overwhelmed by it we are wanting more of it. We hate what busyness does to us, how it keeps us from friends and families and how it skews our priorities. On the other hand, we love that it validates us, as if the fact that we are busy somehow proves our significance."

And there I am. This paradoxical paragraph describes my past decade or so in a damningly accurate manner. In my attempts to get ahead, chase accomplishments, and be all I can be, I was never hesitant to talk about how busy I was.

When I read Challies' quote, I realize that at it's core, the word "busy" is competitive. It's a proclamation that I am better than you. Using my "busy" to English translator, I find that, "I was too busy to get that done/be there," actually means one of the following:

• My time was more important than yours.
• I would have accomplished as much or more than you, but I'm exhausted from everything else I'm accomplishing that you aren't.
• I've got a lot going on - way more than you.
• Why aren't you this busy? If I had your time, of course I'd get it done.
• Praise me and my diligent behavior! I'm important!

Whether I want it to be true or not, if I look at the core of every time I've told someone else how busy I am, the message I'm trying to send is one of these. And it's a stupid message. I am however busy I choose to be. There really is no reason to talk about it.

Aside from this realization that talking about it foolish, I read a few other commentaries in the past couple of weeks about curing people like myself of chronic busyness or making us wiser decision-makers regarding what we choose to be busy with.

The first piece of advice I came across is to honestly ask yourself, "Why am I working this hard?" Why is your schedule full? The real answer may surprise you. Take stock of the true motivation. Is it to make more money to meet necessities, or more money to create comfort? Is it to build relationships with your kids, or to look like a good parent to your peers? Is it out of tradition or wisdom? Is it self-glorifying or God-glorifying? If the answer is ugly, so is your busyness.

The other is this: 

"God designed us to be conformed to whatever it is that we admire - our passions. When it comes to time, we invest it in things we believe will help us become what we want to be. . . Doing too many things can be an indicator that worldly passions are growing and beginning to choke out our passion for God and his kingdom. Any time investment that isn't helping to conform us to the image of Jesus is conforming us to some kind of worldly image. And it means we have some laying aside to do." (Jon Bloom)

This post is not a diatribe against activity. We are not called to a life of comfort, and much of life is a struggle. It should be hard, and there are many worthy endeavors with which to fill our time and stretch our capacities. Ultimately what I've learned from this more than anything is to be purposeful if I'm busy, and to cut that word out of my vocabulary.

Word Choice

I've been reading The Great Gatsby with my AP Lit students lately, and I'm finding myself laboring to put sentence by sentence, page by page behind me. But it's laboring in a good way. This is my second reading of the book, and as with all good second readings, I'm trying to catch all I can. It's hard work, not because F. Scott Fitzgerald is so bad, but because he's so good.

Every sentence in this book that I don't read twice is a source of guilt. Fitzgerald says so much, with so few words, that I just know I'm missing something, something great, with every half-conscious trail of the eyes. Though it's fewer than 200 pages, it's considered one of the "great American novels." Fitzgerald doesn't need a lot of words to pack a punch; he's so painstakingly careful to pick and choose words with power and emotion that speak more in two syllables than some sentences do in twenty. It's exhausting and thrilling and intimidating all at once.

Take the following passage, for instance:

"There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams - not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."

Or this one:

"His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy's white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed like a flower and the incarnation was complete."

Sitting in my classroom Friday afternoon, preparing my lesson on Chapters 5 and 6, I felt breathless from attempting to wring out every morsel and truly get what Fitzgerald wanted me to get. It's like he painted an intricate, vibrant landscape, and then he shrunk it down to the size of a postage stamp and said, "Here it is. Take a look. This is life." Every word matters.

From this, two ideas relevant to myself personally and those who aren't studying Gatsby came to mind.

First, we all use language every day. How careful are our selections? In a world where our words have so great a power to friends and enemies, family and strangers, active listeners and casual by-passers, why aren't we as meticulous in our choices? Every conversation, every post, and every tweet say something to the world about us and the truth that we believe. Instead of a postage stamp to study, many of us offer up volumes of text every hour, so much of it a wasted jumble of half-witted, half-hearted, half-serious, and fully powerful nonsense. With so much to say, how would anyone know which of our words we really mean, which ones we want to speak for the true us, which ones point to all that we believe and know and want to share with humanity?

Secondly, if I'm impressed by the care Fitzgerald takes in putting together his masterpiece, how much more awestruck should I be at God's handiwork? Was the Sovereign Source of all that is Good any less careful in constructing the collection of documents that He said is the key to understanding? Can the Bible be maddeningly complex? Absolutely. Confusing? You bet. But it's worth the struggle. Whatever Fitzgerald can tell me about the American psyche, it is a minute fraction of what the God of the universe is begging me to labor through, one masterful sentence at a time.

In the Fell Clutch of Circumstance

The poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley is a favorite literary target in Christian circles. The smugness of the final two lines, with the speaker claiming, "I am the master of my fate; /  I am the captain of my soul" gets people worked up as heretical and anti-God. With the biblical call to hold loosely all that is not God and the command to give up our life in order to gain it firmly in mind, I can't deny that point about the poem.

Having said that, I love the poem. Whether correctly or not, I don't read it as a diatribe on personal sovereignty or a claim of deistic power. Instead, I read into it one of the great themes of the Psalms - that of remaining steadfast.

It's the second stanza that really preaches to me:

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody but unbowed.

I have been annoyed by circumstance this week. I felt (albeit ridiculously) bludgeoned by chance at times. I found out at the last minute that I had to spend several hours at school on Monday night. I had several meetings, none of which seemed productive or necessary. I scratched my new car. One daughter nearly concussed herself while I was attempting to make supper. The other threw a fit soon after. I have bus duty all week. I've unexpectedly lost sleep.

And boy am I quick to wince and cry aloud, even in the midst of such trifling, trivial annoyances. Wince, wince, wince, wince, wince! It's sad. In a great life full of blessings and an awe-inspiring God who has saved me, I so foolishly and carelessly lose sight of the source of my joy.

One of the definitions of fast is "so as to be hard to move." It is from this that we get terms like hold fast, stand fast, and remain steadfast. These phrases are all over the Psalms, and as I read them this summer, I remember thinking that I wanted that to me be. I wanted my faith, my joy, and my focus to be steadfast. In real trouble, in false trouble (like this week), and in all things, I wanted to be immovable. I still do.

And so I recite that stanza over and over. I have no desire to be the captain of my fate: I trust God much more than myself with that. But I do desire to master my circumstances, to be unbowed despite wounds, to be rock-solid.

Bludgeon away, Chance. No more wincing.

The Literature our Leaders Should Read Before Commenting on Military Strikes

Morality is not subjective. It is not a matter of convenience or of popular vote. It cannot be brushed aside or ignored when it requires sacrifice. Leaders should know this. We should at the very least demand this of them.

I don't what the right answer is regarding the situation in Syria. I largely steer clear of national security debates on this blog because I recognize that people much smarter than me, with much more information than me, with greater public trust than me, are on the job. While I may have an opinion, it does little good to offer it here.

What I found in the paper this morning, however, disturbed me. Four elected leaders from the state of Iowa were asked their position on Syria and where they stand regarding a military strike. The quotes they included regarding Syria's actions include the following:

• "abhorrent" (Chuck Grassley)
• "an affront to human values (Tom Harkin)
• "breaking international law" (Bruce Braley)
• "an absolute atrocity" (Tom Latham)

Despite these descriptors, they then each in turn fall over themselves to find reasons not to be involved. Based on their statements in the Des Moines Register, they each seem to establish that they believe Syria's actions are immoral and destructive to innocent human life. They see a distinct and reprehensible wrong in the world. Yet they are very quick to say, "Yeah, but. . ."

They each offer reason after reason for America to sit back and watch: It is not our business. It will hurt our business. Our reputation will suffer. No one else is doing it.

These sound quite similar to excuses made in a previous generation. Marred in a civil rights quagmire, many good and decent people who knew better watched bigotry and racism and economic rivalry decimate the hopes of African-Americans. One man, though, called them out on it. Martin Luther King, Jr., from a jail cell in Birmingham, wrote a letter that has become one of the major literary pieces of our nation's history In it, he worked not to call out those drenched in the guilt of their own discriminatory practices; King instead addressed his letter to the white clergy in the South who sat idly by and watched, attempting to protect their conscience with the excuse of not being directly involved. 

Wrote King: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly." Those words are praised as key communicators of the values of our nation. 

I don't know the right answers in Syria. I don't pretend to be a military family with a serious perspective on the consequences of upcoming decisions or a national security advisory with knowledge of the region. 

What does seem apparent, though, is that tough decisions like this one will be faced by a collection of elected leaders who have no problem recognizing immorality, but a big problem with taking responsibility for it.