Sometimes being a Christian sucks. It just does. We are called by Jesus to a higher standard that requires us to humble ourselves before our enemies - to not hate them, to not wish them harm, to not want to run as far away from them as possible, to not fear them. But there are so many of them, so many people that wish us ill, or hate us, or chase us, or make us afraid. Its hard not to want to lash out, to strike back, to say derogatory things, to hide and run away. It is in our nature to do so. And to do the opposite is almost more difficult than dealing with the enemy in the first place.
We are only human. Our entire knowledge of the world is shaped by the things we perceive using our senses - things we see, things we hear, things we touch, things we smell, and things we taste. While we can KNOW people by seeing them regularly or hearing from them on the phone, or, unfortunately, smelling them, or more fortunately touching them or tasting them - we can never really KNOW KNOW them. We can't see inside their heads and we can't envision the world the way they envision it. We can't know what they see, or hear, or touch, etc... This can make us feel quite lonely even when we are in amongst a large group of people. Sometimes, we just can't communicate the way we feel, and we can't understand the way people feel about us. We are left to guess what those feelings are and to act on those guesses. At times, this can create an agony in us far greater than anything we are actually experiencing because we imagine that our guesses are our perceptions. We imagine being slighted. We imagine people whispering about us behind our backs. We imagine conversations that never take place. We FEAR for ourselves and our situations from imaginary foes. And we act on those fears. It is, perhaps, the most human thing that we do.
Those fears can lead to us to suspect that some people have bad feelings towards us. They can make us "realize" that we are not well liked or well received. They can exacerbate a situation that was minor and turn it into a major battle. We begin to be ANGRY with our friends, family and brothers and sisters. We begin to try and pick fights with them, just to confirm that which we already know. We can begin to HATE our enemies. And we can begin to act on that hate by drawing inside ourselves, by returning slights - real or imagined, by actively trying to give back the hatred that we've received. We can become perpetrators when we thought we were victims. We can try to destroy people over the mere perception that they are trying to destroy us.
And when we give in to these hatreds, we only bring SUFFERING. Suffering for ourselves and for our enemies and for everyone else caught up in the middle. When there is a breakdown in the safe and normal social order, everyone suffers. If one person suffers, a ripple effect will spread that suffering to everyone connected with that one person. And when two people are fighting, the number of people suffering doubles.
There is only one known way to circumvent the entire process - FORGIVENESS. And no, not in the way that we are naturally inclined to think as humans. No, we are not to seek forgiveness from others, we are to offer it. And offer it again. And again and again and again. We are to ask forgiveness of our friends, and family and brothers and sisters for thinking ill of them and for taking offense to minor things and for not being able to better communicate our feelings and our fears, to constantly feel the need for reassurance, to not trust their motivations, to not embrace them no matter what deficiences we perceive them to have. We are to offer forgiveness, to humble ourselves before them, and to seek reconciliation.
Its not easy being a Christian. It goes against everything we've ever felt deep down inside. And yet, it is so important for us to follow these precepts. It is important for us to love one another as God loves us.
Fear leads to anger and anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering. But forgiveness leads to love and to God. We can't choose to be human. But we can choose to be forgiven.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
The abuse goes on...
Now I know what it is like to be in an abusive relationship. And I also understand how difficult it is to get out of one, whether you want to or not.
Many have accused my church of being disfunctional in the past. I have, for the most part, disagreed with their final assessments. I wouldn't say that I couldn't understand their disapproval - because I'd seen it happen to others and, indeed, had felt its impact myself. The people of my church have a tendency to take and take and take and to never give back. Your value to them is often based on the idea of what have you done for me lately. People who do not contribute, or who are no longer able to contribute, quickly find themselves forgotten and discarded. But worse than that, contributions are never appreciated, merely assessed and scored on some giant tally sheet with the suspicion that if you are willing to contribute this much, you must be hiding a great deal more somewhere else that you have yet to contribute. So even those who contribute don't escape the scrutiny of a church that continues to want more of whatever you have to offer. I am not coming to this conclusion after a particular incident, but a particular incident has finally prompted me to come forward with this conclusion.
I thought I could change the church. I thought I could, in some way, prove myself worthy of it, could earn its love and admiration. I realize now that I will never achieve that goal and that such an achievement is impossible. If I continue to remain in this relationship, the church will do its best to bleed me dry and then discard me.
However, when I have tried to write my resignation, I have discovered that I can not leave this church or this disfunctional relationship. The good times and the good people are becoming more and more infrequent, but I still can not abandon them entirely - nor do I feel that the time is yet right for that move.
Instead, I will fight back. I will no longer take the abuse that is heaped upon me. And I will no longer give and give and give until I have nothing more. The next time someone questions my dedication to any portion of the church, I will merely reply, "You can try to replace me if you want. I have no more to give to you." I don't want to become an uncooperative a$$, but the truth is, my church needs to see that they can not continue down this path and still claim to be a church of Jesus Christ.
I'd better shut up now before I start into another rant. Please pray for me and for my church.
Many have accused my church of being disfunctional in the past. I have, for the most part, disagreed with their final assessments. I wouldn't say that I couldn't understand their disapproval - because I'd seen it happen to others and, indeed, had felt its impact myself. The people of my church have a tendency to take and take and take and to never give back. Your value to them is often based on the idea of what have you done for me lately. People who do not contribute, or who are no longer able to contribute, quickly find themselves forgotten and discarded. But worse than that, contributions are never appreciated, merely assessed and scored on some giant tally sheet with the suspicion that if you are willing to contribute this much, you must be hiding a great deal more somewhere else that you have yet to contribute. So even those who contribute don't escape the scrutiny of a church that continues to want more of whatever you have to offer. I am not coming to this conclusion after a particular incident, but a particular incident has finally prompted me to come forward with this conclusion.
I thought I could change the church. I thought I could, in some way, prove myself worthy of it, could earn its love and admiration. I realize now that I will never achieve that goal and that such an achievement is impossible. If I continue to remain in this relationship, the church will do its best to bleed me dry and then discard me.
However, when I have tried to write my resignation, I have discovered that I can not leave this church or this disfunctional relationship. The good times and the good people are becoming more and more infrequent, but I still can not abandon them entirely - nor do I feel that the time is yet right for that move.
Instead, I will fight back. I will no longer take the abuse that is heaped upon me. And I will no longer give and give and give until I have nothing more. The next time someone questions my dedication to any portion of the church, I will merely reply, "You can try to replace me if you want. I have no more to give to you." I don't want to become an uncooperative a$$, but the truth is, my church needs to see that they can not continue down this path and still claim to be a church of Jesus Christ.
I'd better shut up now before I start into another rant. Please pray for me and for my church.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
A Perfect Storm
Standing at the bottom of a very large wave of incoming projects, I can't help but be awed by the perfect storm of events that have led me to this moment. Every single project that I have undertaken to perform is a logical extention of me, my interests, and my beliefs. So, how did I end up here? How did I get to the point where I'm about to be flattened by the sheer enormity of work I'm about to face?
First, the obvious... I have to work to make a living. Money doesn't grow on trees in California ever since they were all cut down to make way for freeways. So, working is a constant 9 to 5 interupption in the rest of my normal routine. Sometimes, I hardly notice it. And sometimes... Massive Sales Meeting, New products arriving, China Lead Tests everywhere, preparing for next year's big show and even more new products, inventory incredibly out of whack, two major orders in the same week depleting all of my stock... sometimes work can almost be a perfect storm in and of itself.
Second, the committments... Being a youth group leader can be fun, but getting a program restarted can feel a little bit like one of those intensely dramatic moments of E.R. - where the patient is not only lying on the operating table, dying right in front of you, but the city has been plunged in a huge black out, the back up generators don't work, terrorists have seized the hospital, and a large semi-helicopter just crashed through one of the walls, and, of course, the patient has a bomb strapped to their chest. Nevertheless, God shrugs His shoulders and says, "That's your problem." So, I have an Ice Cream Social this week, and the launch of a youth group program in two weeks, several youth events to plan, and meetings to attend, and people already questioning my committment to the program because I have to miss two weeks for basketball (see below). Yet, I wouldn't give it up, nor singing in the choir, nor playing the handbells, nor serving on the website committee, because a) I'm committed to the church and to my fellow Christians and to following the way of Jesus Christ. Between church and work, I've already committed over 50 hours a week.
Third, the education... So, what was I thinking then, when I decided to go back to school? What could have possibly lead me down this path? Yet, for the past two decades I've always had an outside project that was a means to furthering my education or enriching my knowledge in some way. Whether I was learning how to build websites, or Flash, or writing a Novel, or exploring the city and state, I have always been active in doing things that don't let me sit on my a$$ and watch TV. Going back to college, something I have been planning since I left the darn place, was just a logical next step in my educational plans. Two classes, plus an online class, and all the homework, reading, and projects that those classes entail, and suddenly my committment is well over 60 hours a week.
Fourth, the family... I'm including basketball here because as much as I love watching the college game, I wouldn't be doing the stats for USF if it weren't for family ties. An average of two games a week means an additional 6 hours of committment from November through March, and often at times when I really can least afford it. Yet, I dare not abandon this job because of its connection to my family. But there are other family committments as well. I really learned this lesson while working on the Novel, that as much as it helped get the story written, abandoning my family and friends for weeks and months on end while I wrote put a severe strain on my relationships and on my health. It seems that the more time you commit to other things, the more you have to make room for family and friends (which might be contradictory, but is certainly born out by life.) So, if I was doing 60 plus hours before, after I add family and friends to my list, that number grows to over 80 hours a week.
Fifth, the incidentals... And this is the Katrina like fear of anyone with 80 plus hours of committment already guaranteed - the incidentals, the surprises, and the things beyond our control. Illness, fatigue, lost hours, road blocks, detours... all of these things that seem to come out of nowhere and take what little time we already had and leave us with almost nothing for ourselves. We become shells of people, shadows, barely able to concentrate on one project while already planning the next one. If something should even go minorly wrong, the whole perfect schedule should collapse. It only takes one hole in a levee before flooding can occur, and sometimes only one more inch of rain will swamp an entire county. All I can do with the incidentals is hope that they aren't severe and see what I can do to minimize them.
So, what's left of me? What's left for time to watch TV? What's left for time to excersise? What's left for prayer and prayerful consideration? Am I a product of this fast paced world we live in? Or am I merely taking advantage of all this free time I've been granted? I don't know and I don't have time to contemplate the answers. Instead, I'll just keep plunging forward until I hit a wall and have to stop.
I apologize in advance if I'm absent a great deal these next few months. I'll be somewhere amongst the large waves of my life - trying to stay afloat and happy for a chance to swim.
First, the obvious... I have to work to make a living. Money doesn't grow on trees in California ever since they were all cut down to make way for freeways. So, working is a constant 9 to 5 interupption in the rest of my normal routine. Sometimes, I hardly notice it. And sometimes... Massive Sales Meeting, New products arriving, China Lead Tests everywhere, preparing for next year's big show and even more new products, inventory incredibly out of whack, two major orders in the same week depleting all of my stock... sometimes work can almost be a perfect storm in and of itself.
Second, the committments... Being a youth group leader can be fun, but getting a program restarted can feel a little bit like one of those intensely dramatic moments of E.R. - where the patient is not only lying on the operating table, dying right in front of you, but the city has been plunged in a huge black out, the back up generators don't work, terrorists have seized the hospital, and a large semi-helicopter just crashed through one of the walls, and, of course, the patient has a bomb strapped to their chest. Nevertheless, God shrugs His shoulders and says, "That's your problem." So, I have an Ice Cream Social this week, and the launch of a youth group program in two weeks, several youth events to plan, and meetings to attend, and people already questioning my committment to the program because I have to miss two weeks for basketball (see below). Yet, I wouldn't give it up, nor singing in the choir, nor playing the handbells, nor serving on the website committee, because a) I'm committed to the church and to my fellow Christians and to following the way of Jesus Christ. Between church and work, I've already committed over 50 hours a week.
Third, the education... So, what was I thinking then, when I decided to go back to school? What could have possibly lead me down this path? Yet, for the past two decades I've always had an outside project that was a means to furthering my education or enriching my knowledge in some way. Whether I was learning how to build websites, or Flash, or writing a Novel, or exploring the city and state, I have always been active in doing things that don't let me sit on my a$$ and watch TV. Going back to college, something I have been planning since I left the darn place, was just a logical next step in my educational plans. Two classes, plus an online class, and all the homework, reading, and projects that those classes entail, and suddenly my committment is well over 60 hours a week.
Fourth, the family... I'm including basketball here because as much as I love watching the college game, I wouldn't be doing the stats for USF if it weren't for family ties. An average of two games a week means an additional 6 hours of committment from November through March, and often at times when I really can least afford it. Yet, I dare not abandon this job because of its connection to my family. But there are other family committments as well. I really learned this lesson while working on the Novel, that as much as it helped get the story written, abandoning my family and friends for weeks and months on end while I wrote put a severe strain on my relationships and on my health. It seems that the more time you commit to other things, the more you have to make room for family and friends (which might be contradictory, but is certainly born out by life.) So, if I was doing 60 plus hours before, after I add family and friends to my list, that number grows to over 80 hours a week.
Fifth, the incidentals... And this is the Katrina like fear of anyone with 80 plus hours of committment already guaranteed - the incidentals, the surprises, and the things beyond our control. Illness, fatigue, lost hours, road blocks, detours... all of these things that seem to come out of nowhere and take what little time we already had and leave us with almost nothing for ourselves. We become shells of people, shadows, barely able to concentrate on one project while already planning the next one. If something should even go minorly wrong, the whole perfect schedule should collapse. It only takes one hole in a levee before flooding can occur, and sometimes only one more inch of rain will swamp an entire county. All I can do with the incidentals is hope that they aren't severe and see what I can do to minimize them.
So, what's left of me? What's left for time to watch TV? What's left for time to excersise? What's left for prayer and prayerful consideration? Am I a product of this fast paced world we live in? Or am I merely taking advantage of all this free time I've been granted? I don't know and I don't have time to contemplate the answers. Instead, I'll just keep plunging forward until I hit a wall and have to stop.
I apologize in advance if I'm absent a great deal these next few months. I'll be somewhere amongst the large waves of my life - trying to stay afloat and happy for a chance to swim.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sports and the Law - Several Case Studies
We can probably start the blame with OJ - a charismatic former sports star and Hall of Famer who allegedly killed his ex-wife and her "friend" one evening in Los Angeles. We all think we know what happened, but truth be told, we don't have a clue. We have some facts. They have some other facts. And there are a whole lot of facts missing. The case, interestingly, divided the populace in half largely on racial lines. White people tended to overwhelmingly believe the man guilty, black people believed him innocent. What we can say with a certain amount of conviction (pun intended) is that a jury of his peers after sitting through the trial of the century, found him Not Guilty of all charges. Whether through courtroom dramatics or lack of evidence or a sincere disbelief in the prosecution's case, OJ walked free. And has been relatively vilified ever since.
So in the case of the People vs. OJ, we have to say OJ 1, the People 2. People win. OJ loses.
About five years later, we started hearing rumors of steroid use in baseball. The funny thing is that these rumors were just rumors until the federal government decided to arrest the owners and operators of the BALCO lab that was allegedly supplying athletes with the performance enhancing drugs. This led to a Grand Jury and to testimony and to leaked testimony and to all sorts of accusations flying everywhere. But as to actual justice? So far, the only people tried and convicted were those first arrested - the BALCO Lab people.
Of course, you know, this is where I go off on Barry Bonds. I have defended Barry Bonds again and again not because of my belief in whether he used steroids or not, but in my belief that he has not been afforded an opportunity to actually defend himself. He has never been on trial. He has never been accused of anything. And after more than five years of accusations and recriminations, nobody has ever actually filed any charges against him. Nevertheless, Barry Bonds has been accused and found guilty by the general public without ever letting the slugger explain his side of the story. Clearly a text book case of mob justice.
In this case, Barry 0, Mob 1. The Mob wins. Barry loses.
In Duke, the same Mob was ready to tar and feather the members of the Duke LaCrosse team after an overzealous prosecutor used the case against them to get reelected despite the fact that there was little evidence to support the charges. The Duke LaCrosse team had to forfeit the rest of the season, the coach lost his job, and four players were arrested and spent years in jail and under suspicion before being cleared of all charges.
In this case, LaCrosse Team 0, Mob 1. The Mob won. Justice lost.
But this post is actually not about OJ, Barry, or the Duke LaCrosse team. It's about Michael Vick. Here is a man who has been accused of creating, and operating, a dog fighting ring. Being a dog owner, I found the charges to be the sort of thing that made me sick and I was incredibly upset about the whole concept. However, I held out hope that the entire thing had been some sort of misunderstanding. I hoped for the man's innocence. Not because I like Michael Vick - I don't, and I think he's a lousy football QB as well - but because its what we're supposed to do as Americans, believe in each other's innocence, until we can prove guilt.
In Vick's case, the NFL acted as they needed to, taking the position of innocent until proven guilty. They did not allow mob justice to ruin a man on the basis of incredible accusations. And they let the system play out the way it was supposed to. That Vick justified everyone's hatred by agreeing to plead guilty yesterday does not mean that the NFL didn't act swiftly enough to punish Vick. What it means is that the NFL has respect not only for the letter of the law, but for its intent as well.
I am glad Vick is going to jail. And I hope they lock him away for a very long time. And if it should ever be proven that OJ killed his ex-wife, I will be happy to see him behind bars. And if Barry should ever be convicted of using steroids, he should go there as well. And the same thing with the members of the Duke LaCrosse Team. But we have a system of laws in the country that are founded on a basic principle of innocent until proven guilty. It is a system of law that we need to protect and preserve especially in light of situations like these. I don't care if you are the biggest scumbag on the planet, you ought to be proven guilty every time. I know that its something I'd want people to take seriously if I were ever accused of doing something that I'd not done, and I bet you'd want the same if it were to ever happen to you. If you are guilty, then you should do jail time... but only after we prove it.
So in the case of the People vs. OJ, we have to say OJ 1, the People 2. People win. OJ loses.
About five years later, we started hearing rumors of steroid use in baseball. The funny thing is that these rumors were just rumors until the federal government decided to arrest the owners and operators of the BALCO lab that was allegedly supplying athletes with the performance enhancing drugs. This led to a Grand Jury and to testimony and to leaked testimony and to all sorts of accusations flying everywhere. But as to actual justice? So far, the only people tried and convicted were those first arrested - the BALCO Lab people.
Of course, you know, this is where I go off on Barry Bonds. I have defended Barry Bonds again and again not because of my belief in whether he used steroids or not, but in my belief that he has not been afforded an opportunity to actually defend himself. He has never been on trial. He has never been accused of anything. And after more than five years of accusations and recriminations, nobody has ever actually filed any charges against him. Nevertheless, Barry Bonds has been accused and found guilty by the general public without ever letting the slugger explain his side of the story. Clearly a text book case of mob justice.
In this case, Barry 0, Mob 1. The Mob wins. Barry loses.
In Duke, the same Mob was ready to tar and feather the members of the Duke LaCrosse team after an overzealous prosecutor used the case against them to get reelected despite the fact that there was little evidence to support the charges. The Duke LaCrosse team had to forfeit the rest of the season, the coach lost his job, and four players were arrested and spent years in jail and under suspicion before being cleared of all charges.
In this case, LaCrosse Team 0, Mob 1. The Mob won. Justice lost.
But this post is actually not about OJ, Barry, or the Duke LaCrosse team. It's about Michael Vick. Here is a man who has been accused of creating, and operating, a dog fighting ring. Being a dog owner, I found the charges to be the sort of thing that made me sick and I was incredibly upset about the whole concept. However, I held out hope that the entire thing had been some sort of misunderstanding. I hoped for the man's innocence. Not because I like Michael Vick - I don't, and I think he's a lousy football QB as well - but because its what we're supposed to do as Americans, believe in each other's innocence, until we can prove guilt.
In Vick's case, the NFL acted as they needed to, taking the position of innocent until proven guilty. They did not allow mob justice to ruin a man on the basis of incredible accusations. And they let the system play out the way it was supposed to. That Vick justified everyone's hatred by agreeing to plead guilty yesterday does not mean that the NFL didn't act swiftly enough to punish Vick. What it means is that the NFL has respect not only for the letter of the law, but for its intent as well.
I am glad Vick is going to jail. And I hope they lock him away for a very long time. And if it should ever be proven that OJ killed his ex-wife, I will be happy to see him behind bars. And if Barry should ever be convicted of using steroids, he should go there as well. And the same thing with the members of the Duke LaCrosse Team. But we have a system of laws in the country that are founded on a basic principle of innocent until proven guilty. It is a system of law that we need to protect and preserve especially in light of situations like these. I don't care if you are the biggest scumbag on the planet, you ought to be proven guilty every time. I know that its something I'd want people to take seriously if I were ever accused of doing something that I'd not done, and I bet you'd want the same if it were to ever happen to you. If you are guilty, then you should do jail time... but only after we prove it.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Agony
It was cold there in the church pew as my hand hovered over my hip pocket. Up at the pulpit, I could see the Pastor doing the same. Our eyes locked. Somewhere in the distance, a clock ticked, a dog howled. A tumbleweed rolled between us. I used my tongue to move the cheroot from one side of my mouth to the other. I squinted. We stared. And then, in a blinding flash, I drew.
It was sweet agony.
I am not a rich person - not by any stretch of the imagination. I am owned more by giant money grubbing corporations than most people. I have never in my whole life owned anything close to even $10,000 (except debt... I've owned a LOT of debt) and that includes properties (though maybe at one time if I had sold my entire X-Men collection when the going was good... but even then I doubt it). As a result I know the value of every cent I have and can usually stretch it to go as far as I possibly can. I've lived on the edge of poverty for so long, I've forgotten that there is a rich center out there somewhere. If I were to ever win the lottery, I wouldn't know what to do with the money.
I had $40 in my wallet. Two $20's and nothing smaller. I needed that money. There were plenty of people in the congregation who had infinitely more than I did - let them put money in the collection plate. If I put a $20 bill in the collection plate, I might not eat this week.
Wave after wave of convictions hit me in the face. The sermon was about having faith. The anthem was about keeping a lamp lit for God. Again and again, I kept thinking about that old woman who only had one copper coin and she had more faith than all the fat cats of Jerusalem because it was her only coin. Surely that didn't apply to me? Surely the old woman had food back in her apartment? Wasn't the one copper coin the only money the old woman had left AFTER a day out at the hair dresser and the florist and a nice meal with her grandchildren? Yes. No. And No. Quit changing the subject.
It was Jesus who saw the woman's sacrifice. Nobody else even paid any attention to her. Yet, I imagined the look on the priest's faces when they collected that offering and saw the single copper coin. "Who threw that in there? They might as well not have even bothered! What are we going to do with one copper coin? We can't pay our electricity bill. We can't feed our priests. We can't even run a website with this coin. Some people have no respect for the Lord." It was Jesus who saw this woman's suffering, who knew what one measly copper coin meant to her, who could see that she would go hungry that night for lack of food, who could see that tomorrow she would be out working and hustling for more coins and that she would make the same sacrifice again and again and again because while she didn't have much, she loved God and she honored God and she returned to God what He had given her so that it might be used to help those even less fortunate than herself. Jesus saw this and He had to point it out to the disciples. Her sacrifice became one of His greatest lessons. And her faith was counted as righteousness.
I pictured the miners trapped in that mine. And I pictured those monsoon victims in India and Bangladesh. And I pictured homeless people on the streets without food or shelter. I could chance it. I could have faith that my sacrifice would not go in vain and that even if I suffered a little, my $20 might go a long way to helping those who suffered a lot.
In the end, though I agonized for half an hour, drawing the $20 from my wallet was easy. Placing it in the collection plate was almost a relief. And I quickly forgot about it.
Except...
I started agonizing about whether I should have put all $40 in the collection plate. I still have so long to go.
It was sweet agony.
I am not a rich person - not by any stretch of the imagination. I am owned more by giant money grubbing corporations than most people. I have never in my whole life owned anything close to even $10,000 (except debt... I've owned a LOT of debt) and that includes properties (though maybe at one time if I had sold my entire X-Men collection when the going was good... but even then I doubt it). As a result I know the value of every cent I have and can usually stretch it to go as far as I possibly can. I've lived on the edge of poverty for so long, I've forgotten that there is a rich center out there somewhere. If I were to ever win the lottery, I wouldn't know what to do with the money.
I had $40 in my wallet. Two $20's and nothing smaller. I needed that money. There were plenty of people in the congregation who had infinitely more than I did - let them put money in the collection plate. If I put a $20 bill in the collection plate, I might not eat this week.
Wave after wave of convictions hit me in the face. The sermon was about having faith. The anthem was about keeping a lamp lit for God. Again and again, I kept thinking about that old woman who only had one copper coin and she had more faith than all the fat cats of Jerusalem because it was her only coin. Surely that didn't apply to me? Surely the old woman had food back in her apartment? Wasn't the one copper coin the only money the old woman had left AFTER a day out at the hair dresser and the florist and a nice meal with her grandchildren? Yes. No. And No. Quit changing the subject.
It was Jesus who saw the woman's sacrifice. Nobody else even paid any attention to her. Yet, I imagined the look on the priest's faces when they collected that offering and saw the single copper coin. "Who threw that in there? They might as well not have even bothered! What are we going to do with one copper coin? We can't pay our electricity bill. We can't feed our priests. We can't even run a website with this coin. Some people have no respect for the Lord." It was Jesus who saw this woman's suffering, who knew what one measly copper coin meant to her, who could see that she would go hungry that night for lack of food, who could see that tomorrow she would be out working and hustling for more coins and that she would make the same sacrifice again and again and again because while she didn't have much, she loved God and she honored God and she returned to God what He had given her so that it might be used to help those even less fortunate than herself. Jesus saw this and He had to point it out to the disciples. Her sacrifice became one of His greatest lessons. And her faith was counted as righteousness.
I pictured the miners trapped in that mine. And I pictured those monsoon victims in India and Bangladesh. And I pictured homeless people on the streets without food or shelter. I could chance it. I could have faith that my sacrifice would not go in vain and that even if I suffered a little, my $20 might go a long way to helping those who suffered a lot.
In the end, though I agonized for half an hour, drawing the $20 from my wallet was easy. Placing it in the collection plate was almost a relief. And I quickly forgot about it.
Except...
I started agonizing about whether I should have put all $40 in the collection plate. I still have so long to go.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
A N N O U N C E M E N T ! ! !
I'm
(Scroll Down)
Pregnant
Pause...
(Scroll Down)
Expecting
You All
To visit my new website: WWW.HELPWILLTRAIN.ORG
(whenever it is finally finished... ;)
Over the next 12 months I have an ambitious plan to transform myself from overweight wallflower (to wallflowers what the ivy at Wrigley Field is to hanging plants) into studmuffin extraordinaire, Will T. Thrill (the last of the red hot louvers ;)
In order to accomplish this amazing feat - a task so monumental that tunneling under the English Channel looks easy by comparison - I will need a dedicated group of volunteers to help me train for this task. I will need physical trainers and weight training coaches and people to hike with me and people to kick me when I'm down and people to pray for me and people to not tempt me with ooozy thick pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, mushrooms, some of those spicy flakes that you pour on top with the parmesan cheese and... uh, where was I?
Anyway, that's where I need all of your help. You see, it occurred to me the other day that its more fun to be in agony with friends, family, and other assorted oddballs and so I thought it might be an interesting experiment to spread the wealth, so to speak. If I could, then, find a way to arrange it so that when I decide to go for a jog on a Friday evening, someone could join me and tell me I run like a girl (or guy, depending on the gender of this jogging companion), I thought I might actually tone up, tune in, and avoid take out a lot faster.
So, my trusty HELP WILL TRAIN webmaster and computer guru, Carl Tanner and I have been secretly developing the latest technology over the past, oh, six days or so, to create just such a website. This was all going to be explained to you in a fantastic film that I've been creating for the site, but, alas, I have run out of time. You'll just have to wait to see the film when the site goes active sometime tomorrow evening.
Anti-climactic, right? Would it help if I said I can prove that Global Warming is true? No, probably not, huh... I've dashed your expectations that I was a)Winning the lottery and would treat you all to a trip to Disney World, b)Meeting a man in Paris whose kind and wonderful and I'm getting married (Father of the Bride, in case you were wondering), or c)Discovered my long lost twin while at summer camp this year. Well, get over it. Compared to your deflated expectations, my problems are colossal!
And now... on with your lives...
(Scroll Down)
Pregnant
Pause...
(Scroll Down)
Expecting
You All
To visit my new website: WWW.HELPWILLTRAIN.ORG
(whenever it is finally finished... ;)
Over the next 12 months I have an ambitious plan to transform myself from overweight wallflower (to wallflowers what the ivy at Wrigley Field is to hanging plants) into studmuffin extraordinaire, Will T. Thrill (the last of the red hot louvers ;)
In order to accomplish this amazing feat - a task so monumental that tunneling under the English Channel looks easy by comparison - I will need a dedicated group of volunteers to help me train for this task. I will need physical trainers and weight training coaches and people to hike with me and people to kick me when I'm down and people to pray for me and people to not tempt me with ooozy thick pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, mushrooms, some of those spicy flakes that you pour on top with the parmesan cheese and... uh, where was I?
Anyway, that's where I need all of your help. You see, it occurred to me the other day that its more fun to be in agony with friends, family, and other assorted oddballs and so I thought it might be an interesting experiment to spread the wealth, so to speak. If I could, then, find a way to arrange it so that when I decide to go for a jog on a Friday evening, someone could join me and tell me I run like a girl (or guy, depending on the gender of this jogging companion), I thought I might actually tone up, tune in, and avoid take out a lot faster.
So, my trusty HELP WILL TRAIN webmaster and computer guru, Carl Tanner and I have been secretly developing the latest technology over the past, oh, six days or so, to create just such a website. This was all going to be explained to you in a fantastic film that I've been creating for the site, but, alas, I have run out of time. You'll just have to wait to see the film when the site goes active sometime tomorrow evening.
Anti-climactic, right? Would it help if I said I can prove that Global Warming is true? No, probably not, huh... I've dashed your expectations that I was a)Winning the lottery and would treat you all to a trip to Disney World, b)Meeting a man in Paris whose kind and wonderful and I'm getting married (Father of the Bride, in case you were wondering), or c)Discovered my long lost twin while at summer camp this year. Well, get over it. Compared to your deflated expectations, my problems are colossal!
And now... on with your lives...
Is there room for a Hallelujah in your IPOD?
So before the announcement, a little update news:
I've been having computer problems here at work and as a result, some of the elements of the announcement have not yet materialized (despite working until 1am each of the last two nights). So some elements may be delayed. I had actually thought about delaying the announcement until tomorrow, but even more recent events made me realize that tomorrow might be optimistic as well.
You see, its my birthday today. And while I was dealing with computer problems, my cell phone suddenly burst into life chirping out an electronic muzac version of the Hallelujah Chorus. Just the sheer insanity of this little electronic Hallelujah already had me laughing, but then I saw who the phone call was from - my co-youth group leader at church (hence the Hallelujah chorus), Katie. I answered the phone.
Every year at this time, when I actually get around to start thinking about my birthday (38 is sooo bland!), a little tiny thought pops into my head - what would I really want for my birthday? These are the sorts of questions that usually don't get much play in my world. I just don't think about them all that often. But once a year, I entertain the thought out of a mere formality. Well, this year I had a ready answer. For several years now, I've been dying to see the Broadway Musical Avenue Q - the one with the muppets. Well, its finally arriving in San Francisco this week for a short stay and I was thinking that it'd be cool to go. But tickets are really expensive and well, quite frankly, I'm not worth it. Its only my 38th birthday - nothing special about that. And so, I let the thought die inside my mind - never aired, never mentioned, never even reconsidered.
So, Hallelujah Chorus, friend from church, my birthday... yes, you guessed it. "Hey Will, my co-worker has two tickets to tonight's Avenue Q at the Orpheum. Can you go?" God has a wicked sense of humor and timing. For the record, Katie had no idea it was my birthday.
So, that, in addition to everything else, is what is causing this delay in things for the Announcement - which I will make shortly after lunch.
See you soon.
I've been having computer problems here at work and as a result, some of the elements of the announcement have not yet materialized (despite working until 1am each of the last two nights). So some elements may be delayed. I had actually thought about delaying the announcement until tomorrow, but even more recent events made me realize that tomorrow might be optimistic as well.
You see, its my birthday today. And while I was dealing with computer problems, my cell phone suddenly burst into life chirping out an electronic muzac version of the Hallelujah Chorus. Just the sheer insanity of this little electronic Hallelujah already had me laughing, but then I saw who the phone call was from - my co-youth group leader at church (hence the Hallelujah chorus), Katie. I answered the phone.
Every year at this time, when I actually get around to start thinking about my birthday (38 is sooo bland!), a little tiny thought pops into my head - what would I really want for my birthday? These are the sorts of questions that usually don't get much play in my world. I just don't think about them all that often. But once a year, I entertain the thought out of a mere formality. Well, this year I had a ready answer. For several years now, I've been dying to see the Broadway Musical Avenue Q - the one with the muppets. Well, its finally arriving in San Francisco this week for a short stay and I was thinking that it'd be cool to go. But tickets are really expensive and well, quite frankly, I'm not worth it. Its only my 38th birthday - nothing special about that. And so, I let the thought die inside my mind - never aired, never mentioned, never even reconsidered.
So, Hallelujah Chorus, friend from church, my birthday... yes, you guessed it. "Hey Will, my co-worker has two tickets to tonight's Avenue Q at the Orpheum. Can you go?" God has a wicked sense of humor and timing. For the record, Katie had no idea it was my birthday.
So, that, in addition to everything else, is what is causing this delay in things for the Announcement - which I will make shortly after lunch.
See you soon.
Monday, August 06, 2007
The 37 Year, 11 Month, 360 Day Revirgin
I have finally succeeded in reacquiring my virgin status. And let me tell you that it was not easy. They don't just let anyone become a virgin again - they have to prove a committment to being a renewed virgin, a sign, a test of loyalty, a sacrifice of one's sexual status. Well, I have now made that sacrifice and have attained the certificate that shall hang proudly in my bedroom like a diploma. I have been revirginated.
You see, yesterday, in honor of my birthday I received this ultimate gift in the form of two packages - birthday presents. One was an authentic, never before used, still in collector's packaging, Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest Comforter. The other was an authentic, never before used, still in collector's packaging, Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest Linen Package consisting of one fitted sheet, one regular sheet, and one pillow case.
Now, unlike you married men out there who are probably drooling over the possibilities of such fine linen knowing that you will never convince your significant others of allowing you to put such cool things on your marriage bed, I don't have that problem. And seeing as how a) My secondary comforter has been completely shredded by the dogs who find it a nice warm place to snuggle up during the afternoon with their long sharp claws and b) I actually liked Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest, and c) I don't plan on having sex any time in the near future; I have absolutely no problems stripping my plain old linens from my bed and replacing them with such fine, and comfortable might I add, bed dressings.
So now, as the centerpiece of my extreme bedroom makeover, I have a bed that looks like a giant pirate treasure map complete with doubloons, compass points, and Dead Men Tell No Tales skull. That this would normally have an adverse effect on my sex life is not in doubt. That I have no sex life to worry about affecting is also not in doubt. I can easily give up that which I no longer need in order to claim the title of Revirgin.
That being said... this is not the big announcement that is coming on Thursday.
Other things that are NOT the big announcement coming on Thursday include:
1) I am not announcing my bid for the 2008 Presidential election.
2) I am not reenlisting in the Navy (they wouldn't let me keep my cool sheets).
3) I am not revealing my true identity as the long lost half sister of Sheila who has been hiding out after escaping a terrible fire at the orphanage and fighting off the advances of Monica who thinks that I am mild mannered Will.
4) I have not discovered the cure for Cancer.
5) I was not on the grassy knoll.
6) I have not discovered a hidden map on the back of the Magna Carta.
7) I do not have any evidence of Bond's steroid use.
8) I have not discovered the Grand Unification Theory of Everything.
9) I did not win the Pillsbury Bake Off.
And
10) ICON was not nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature.
As to what the true announcement on Thursday will be... you will just have to wait until then to find out.
Avoiding the plagues,
Will
You see, yesterday, in honor of my birthday I received this ultimate gift in the form of two packages - birthday presents. One was an authentic, never before used, still in collector's packaging, Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest Comforter. The other was an authentic, never before used, still in collector's packaging, Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest Linen Package consisting of one fitted sheet, one regular sheet, and one pillow case.
Now, unlike you married men out there who are probably drooling over the possibilities of such fine linen knowing that you will never convince your significant others of allowing you to put such cool things on your marriage bed, I don't have that problem. And seeing as how a) My secondary comforter has been completely shredded by the dogs who find it a nice warm place to snuggle up during the afternoon with their long sharp claws and b) I actually liked Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest, and c) I don't plan on having sex any time in the near future; I have absolutely no problems stripping my plain old linens from my bed and replacing them with such fine, and comfortable might I add, bed dressings.
So now, as the centerpiece of my extreme bedroom makeover, I have a bed that looks like a giant pirate treasure map complete with doubloons, compass points, and Dead Men Tell No Tales skull. That this would normally have an adverse effect on my sex life is not in doubt. That I have no sex life to worry about affecting is also not in doubt. I can easily give up that which I no longer need in order to claim the title of Revirgin.
That being said... this is not the big announcement that is coming on Thursday.
Other things that are NOT the big announcement coming on Thursday include:
1) I am not announcing my bid for the 2008 Presidential election.
2) I am not reenlisting in the Navy (they wouldn't let me keep my cool sheets).
3) I am not revealing my true identity as the long lost half sister of Sheila who has been hiding out after escaping a terrible fire at the orphanage and fighting off the advances of Monica who thinks that I am mild mannered Will.
4) I have not discovered the cure for Cancer.
5) I was not on the grassy knoll.
6) I have not discovered a hidden map on the back of the Magna Carta.
7) I do not have any evidence of Bond's steroid use.
8) I have not discovered the Grand Unification Theory of Everything.
9) I did not win the Pillsbury Bake Off.
And
10) ICON was not nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature.
As to what the true announcement on Thursday will be... you will just have to wait until then to find out.
Avoiding the plagues,
Will
Thursday, August 02, 2007
The Cream and The Clear and The Coffee...
So, it wasn't hives, after all, but a simple case of Static Dermatitis (I.E. It still itches like hell!). Oh, and I'm morbidly obese... but then we knew that last one.
Anyway, in light of the fact that I still itch and that I'm not supposed to scratch (apparently shredding my legs with my finger nails is not a good thing... but nothing compared with being morbidly obese), my doctor prescribed a topical cream that looks something like flax seed oil to rub on my legs in order to make the itching go away, temporarily, and cure the dermatitis.
Apparently, this cream has steroids in it. Steroids!? The bane of modern existence! I am no longer a pure athlete just competing for the love of the sport (and the money) now I have been tainted by steroids! Oh, will the suffering ever stop! And how come they don't have steroids to help you lose weight?! Darn it! Did I mention that I was morbidly obese?!
So I had this weird but powerful dream last night and I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and empowered - like I could manhandle linedrives from my shoe tops over four hundred feet into McCovey Cove. It got me to thinking about things and about how I could fix certain things.
Did you know that you could define morbid as having an obsession with death. Wow. Way to keep your prejudice out of a scientific term there skinny science boys - apparently, I am so fat that I have become obsessed with death. Say that to my face and I'll kill you! (Dang... 'roid rage is already kicking in!)
The long and the short of it (not that anything's shriveled... yet) is that if you check back at this blog in one week, there will be a major announcement. I think. If I haven't already got a shoe contract by then. So, once again, Major Announcement, One Week From Today!
And now I shut up tighter than Scholastic Books! So don't ask. No hints given.
Anyway, in light of the fact that I still itch and that I'm not supposed to scratch (apparently shredding my legs with my finger nails is not a good thing... but nothing compared with being morbidly obese), my doctor prescribed a topical cream that looks something like flax seed oil to rub on my legs in order to make the itching go away, temporarily, and cure the dermatitis.
Apparently, this cream has steroids in it. Steroids!? The bane of modern existence! I am no longer a pure athlete just competing for the love of the sport (and the money) now I have been tainted by steroids! Oh, will the suffering ever stop! And how come they don't have steroids to help you lose weight?! Darn it! Did I mention that I was morbidly obese?!
So I had this weird but powerful dream last night and I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and empowered - like I could manhandle linedrives from my shoe tops over four hundred feet into McCovey Cove. It got me to thinking about things and about how I could fix certain things.
Did you know that you could define morbid as having an obsession with death. Wow. Way to keep your prejudice out of a scientific term there skinny science boys - apparently, I am so fat that I have become obsessed with death. Say that to my face and I'll kill you! (Dang... 'roid rage is already kicking in!)
The long and the short of it (not that anything's shriveled... yet) is that if you check back at this blog in one week, there will be a major announcement. I think. If I haven't already got a shoe contract by then. So, once again, Major Announcement, One Week From Today!
And now I shut up tighter than Scholastic Books! So don't ask. No hints given.
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