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.