Another year, another Golden Globes has gone by and I, being a big movie lover, have been left, yet again, with a stunning conclusion - I still haven't won a Golden Globe. Or an Oscar, Grammy, or MTV Movie Award either. Its a rather distressing state of affairs to be so far into my magnificent career and to only have a dozen or so TACCIE Awards to show for it... but that's another story.
I always love Awards season. There is high drama about who will be nominated and who will win. We all have our favorites and we want them to do well. Seeing Return of the King win best picture was kind of like seeing the Giants win the World Series - I never thought I'd live to see a fantasy film win the highest honor.
As a kid, I used to watch the Oscars and dream of some day being up on that stage accepting my own Oscar for Best Film, Screenplay, Actor, Director, Etc... It was my dream to be in front of the entire world and finally show my quality. I admit guiltily to still having the fantasy.
But it occurred to me the other day that the fantasy doesn't really match the reality of the moment. You are being crowned King of the World, and yet, you are obligated to thank everyone you've ever known for making you King. They all try to do it their own unique way, "Oh, I'm so surprised at this award. I never expected anything like this. Its just an honor being nominated," but they always end it the same way, "I'd like to thank..." Really, honestly, I wonder if I wouldn't get up there and say, "Yeah, that's right! I kick A**! I rock! Bow down to my glory!" It would be awfully tempting.
Aside from protocol of what to say and how to say it and who you should thank and what to do if you forget a name or two (take out a full page ad in the newspapers to thank them after the fact... its not cheap being a big star), there is the message behind such comments - that none of us make it to the top without a lot of help along the way.
Couldn't we just skip the Awards and go straight to the thanking?
I'd like to thank Andy for getting me started on this blog. Your enthusiasm and friendship have kept me sane for many years, and just a slightly bit insane at the same time. I'd like to thank Elisa for her many wonderful comments and her ability to make me feel welcome here. I have gained a true friend. I'd like to thank Dan for trusting God and coming all the way from San Jose to meet his spiritual brothers and sisters. I'm not sure I would have made the journey, Dan, and I'm rather impressed. I'd like to thank my sister, Heather, for wearing her heart on her sleeve and keyboard. She keeps reminding me what an older brother is for. I'd like to thank Sue for keeping my head so big that I will always have to duck to enter rooms. Her comments are truly inspiring and I hope a sign of things to come. I'd like to thank Carlb for putting up with me and my incessant ribbing. Remember, I slept with you before Heather did ;)I'd like to thank Ariel for his serious comments that somehow hide the playfulness behind them. I'd like to thank Pastor Peter, without whom I would never have laughed so much these last couple of weeks, and probably would have never seen King Kong. And see... this is where the pressure begins... did I forget anybody? I'd like to thank Chez for visiting our blogosphere from halfway around the globe. I'd like to thank all the other people who have visited my blog over the past couple of months - even during the dreaded Controversial Period. But, most of all, I'd like to thank God, without whom this journey would have never had a beginning, middle or end. I'd like to share this Award with God, but I don't actually have one yet. So, God, my thanks and praise will have to do for now.
Wait, wait... there's someone else I have to thank! Wait... darn music... they always play the music before you're done thanking everyone... oh well... I'll just have to wait until my next acceptance speech.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Road Trip
I am, of course, reading the excellent Donald Miller book, "Through Painted Deserts" about his road trip from Houston to Oregon when he was a young man. It reminds me, vaguely, okay, very vaguely, of a road trip I took back in 1989.
To set this completely in context, I had already joined the Navy the previous summer. I attended Naval Intelligence school in Virginia. My buddy - Jay Raymond - attended Aircraft Electrician School in Memphis. We both managed to get cashiered from school at approximately the same time - heading home to San Francisco. For me, it was a stop over on the way to my first and final assignment in Hawaii. For Jay, it was a stop over before his first and final assignment in Lemoore, California - near Visalia. We both had earned about three weeks vacation and I decided that it'd be a good idea to take a short weekend down in LA and go to Disneyland.
So me and my friend, Jay, managed to get a ride with my brother, Dave, and my other friend, Stanley (Think Napoleon Dynamite - I swear it was autobiographical about him! ;). We were going to go in Stanley's car - since he was the only one with a working vehicle. We had little cash, no hotel reservations, and only a few operating brain cells between us ;)
As soon as we started out, I knew we were in trouble. As we cleared the city limits of Pacifica, Stanley reminded Dave that we had to stop in San Jose so that he could pick up his temporary license.
"Temporary license?" I asked.
"It got revoked," Stanley informed us, "But they said I could get a temporary one back starting today."
Now, I was worried and Jay and I exchanged looks. But we really exchanged looks when they decided to bypass San Jose and just take their chances. We drove out of the Bay Area and into the coastal range, stopping at a little truck stop/tourist area called Casa De Fruita to pick up supplies. My brother, Dave, bought a huge bag of pistachio nuts and strawberry soda - the combination still makes me ill just to think about it. Jay and I were already nervous, but Dave and Stan were too excited to be making this trip. We all climbed back into the car and started up the long hill over the Pacheco Pass.
We got about three miles before we saw the red and blue flashing lights of the cop. Jay immediately started to freak out. He thought for sure we were all going to jail because Stan didn't have his license. But Stan was freaking out as well because, well, the car's registration wasn't up to date either. He was using the registration money to buy the new license. We pulled off the side of the road.
The cop pulled up behind us and climbed out of his car and walked around to the passenger side door where my brother was seated. He calmly rolled down the window and said, "Good afternoon, officer, would you like a pistachio nut?" Jay nearly had a heart attack. The officer asked for the usual paperwork, pointed out that the car's registration was expired, and wrote Stanley a fix it ticket. And then, miracle of miracles, he let us go.
The drive to Los Angeles was subdued at first, but eventually we all recovered from our shock and mocked Dave for his pistachio comments. When we finally arrived in Anaheim, it was late. We drove from hotel to hotel in our price range and were shocked to discover that there was some sort of Disneyana convention going on. There was no room at the inns (that's about my only biblical reference today... ;)
We ended up in a motel about thirty miles away called, appropriately, The Anchor. Jay was raving on and on about being a real sailor and staying at the anchor. We bought beer and before I was half way through mine, just about everyone had dropped off to sleep. I called it a night.
I woke up first the next day and dragged the others off to Disneyland. My brother is a real bear to wake up. I swear, if he could, he'd hibernate for three seasons out of four. But the other two weren't any easier to wake. However, since I needed them to get me to Disneyland, it was a cross I bore (okay, make that two references ;)
We reached Disneyland and immediately rode Space Mountain and Star Tours and then headed over to the Matterhorn. As Dave went off to find a bathroom, Stanley went to grab us some hot dogs and Jay and I stood in line. It was a long line and there were a lot of hot 1980's SoCal women in the line with us. Jay was trying to pull the macho sailor act to impress the ladies, but they weren't having any of it. Finally, Stan returned with some hot dogs and the appropriate condiments and we stood in line and waited.
Jay, being Jay, decided to impress everyone by showing us this trick he learned in the Navy. He immediately dropped a mustard packet on the ground in front of him, and before we could stop him, stomped on one end of the packet. Mustard squirted everywhere - including head to toe on the rather attractive blonde standing right behind us who was wearing nothing but black. Scraping mustard off her face, she looked at Jay and said, "Thanks... Dick!" Jay, for his part, was slightly embarassed. But I think more disappointed when we explained that we already knew that trick and had learned it in grade school.
The trip was long. We ran out of money. We limped home. Stan eventually got his license. Dave changed his eating habits. Jay never did hook up with an attractive blonde. And I was very glad to finally get to Hawaii. Some trips you take for the fun. Some you take for the adventure. And some, you just endure so that you can write about them for years to come.
To set this completely in context, I had already joined the Navy the previous summer. I attended Naval Intelligence school in Virginia. My buddy - Jay Raymond - attended Aircraft Electrician School in Memphis. We both managed to get cashiered from school at approximately the same time - heading home to San Francisco. For me, it was a stop over on the way to my first and final assignment in Hawaii. For Jay, it was a stop over before his first and final assignment in Lemoore, California - near Visalia. We both had earned about three weeks vacation and I decided that it'd be a good idea to take a short weekend down in LA and go to Disneyland.
So me and my friend, Jay, managed to get a ride with my brother, Dave, and my other friend, Stanley (Think Napoleon Dynamite - I swear it was autobiographical about him! ;). We were going to go in Stanley's car - since he was the only one with a working vehicle. We had little cash, no hotel reservations, and only a few operating brain cells between us ;)
As soon as we started out, I knew we were in trouble. As we cleared the city limits of Pacifica, Stanley reminded Dave that we had to stop in San Jose so that he could pick up his temporary license.
"Temporary license?" I asked.
"It got revoked," Stanley informed us, "But they said I could get a temporary one back starting today."
Now, I was worried and Jay and I exchanged looks. But we really exchanged looks when they decided to bypass San Jose and just take their chances. We drove out of the Bay Area and into the coastal range, stopping at a little truck stop/tourist area called Casa De Fruita to pick up supplies. My brother, Dave, bought a huge bag of pistachio nuts and strawberry soda - the combination still makes me ill just to think about it. Jay and I were already nervous, but Dave and Stan were too excited to be making this trip. We all climbed back into the car and started up the long hill over the Pacheco Pass.
We got about three miles before we saw the red and blue flashing lights of the cop. Jay immediately started to freak out. He thought for sure we were all going to jail because Stan didn't have his license. But Stan was freaking out as well because, well, the car's registration wasn't up to date either. He was using the registration money to buy the new license. We pulled off the side of the road.
The cop pulled up behind us and climbed out of his car and walked around to the passenger side door where my brother was seated. He calmly rolled down the window and said, "Good afternoon, officer, would you like a pistachio nut?" Jay nearly had a heart attack. The officer asked for the usual paperwork, pointed out that the car's registration was expired, and wrote Stanley a fix it ticket. And then, miracle of miracles, he let us go.
The drive to Los Angeles was subdued at first, but eventually we all recovered from our shock and mocked Dave for his pistachio comments. When we finally arrived in Anaheim, it was late. We drove from hotel to hotel in our price range and were shocked to discover that there was some sort of Disneyana convention going on. There was no room at the inns (that's about my only biblical reference today... ;)
We ended up in a motel about thirty miles away called, appropriately, The Anchor. Jay was raving on and on about being a real sailor and staying at the anchor. We bought beer and before I was half way through mine, just about everyone had dropped off to sleep. I called it a night.
I woke up first the next day and dragged the others off to Disneyland. My brother is a real bear to wake up. I swear, if he could, he'd hibernate for three seasons out of four. But the other two weren't any easier to wake. However, since I needed them to get me to Disneyland, it was a cross I bore (okay, make that two references ;)
We reached Disneyland and immediately rode Space Mountain and Star Tours and then headed over to the Matterhorn. As Dave went off to find a bathroom, Stanley went to grab us some hot dogs and Jay and I stood in line. It was a long line and there were a lot of hot 1980's SoCal women in the line with us. Jay was trying to pull the macho sailor act to impress the ladies, but they weren't having any of it. Finally, Stan returned with some hot dogs and the appropriate condiments and we stood in line and waited.
Jay, being Jay, decided to impress everyone by showing us this trick he learned in the Navy. He immediately dropped a mustard packet on the ground in front of him, and before we could stop him, stomped on one end of the packet. Mustard squirted everywhere - including head to toe on the rather attractive blonde standing right behind us who was wearing nothing but black. Scraping mustard off her face, she looked at Jay and said, "Thanks... Dick!" Jay, for his part, was slightly embarassed. But I think more disappointed when we explained that we already knew that trick and had learned it in grade school.
The trip was long. We ran out of money. We limped home. Stan eventually got his license. Dave changed his eating habits. Jay never did hook up with an attractive blonde. And I was very glad to finally get to Hawaii. Some trips you take for the fun. Some you take for the adventure. And some, you just endure so that you can write about them for years to come.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The Pool Is Drained
There is no surer sign that summer is over than the pool is drained and starting to fill with leaves. I remember a trip to Chicago a while back and it was summer on our way through - with 90 degree heat and humidity and people sweltering along Lake Michigan. Two weeks later, when we returned, the air was crisp, people were starting to stay indoors, and the pool was completely drained. The hotel was empty as well, but that may have been because of the neighborhood we were in.
My brain is fried. I just finished editing the second act of my Novel. Its my favorite act. It begins with the main characters in real dire straits - peripherally - and it ends with them in real dire straits internally. At times it just seems to meander along, but I'm hoping you can hear the white water just ahead and the plunge that's about to occur.
The problem with the novel has always been the third act. The ending. Not since the glory days of "Old Spies Never Die," have I really had a great ending. The problem with this story is that the focus on the main characters changes in the third act, as needs be, and they slowly become peripheral characters to the main story. It'd be like getting to Return of the Jedi and discovering that R2D2 and C3PO were the main characters all along (and every one else dies in a climactic battle with the Empire... now that's a Star Wars movie I'd pay to see!) I'm reminded of a comment that a Tolkein scholar said about him in the hours of bonus interview footage for the Extended DVD's - "It was like he had no idea how you write a story." His story worked, though, and worked well perhaps as a result of him not following the tried and true formula for story telling. I'm hoping for the same result.
Since I really have nothing else to say, I'm going to add here the brief summary of the Novel from my website - so that if I ever run out of things to blog about again, you'll know what I'm talking about next time I mention the Novel.
The Thin Line is a cautionary tale of two men, Colonel Thomas O'Malley and Rob Winter, on different ends of life's spectrum who meet only hours before the assassination of a political leader, that binds them together on a journey through the pages of a future history that finally answers the question, can it happen here?
Rob Winter is a normal young man looking for his place in the world until the day he meets Colonel Tom O'Malley and finds himself in the middle of a historical event - the assassination of a key political leader. Their bond only grows when a reassigned O'Malley hires Rob Winter to be a lab assistant at a top secret government lab. When the theft of a biological agent occurs at the lab, both men begin to suspect that there may be something sinister going on behind the scenes. After the biological agent is used to deadly effect, Colonel O'Malley goes off in pursuit of the truth while Rob Winter mulls his role in events. When O'Malley discovers the truth, he goes into hiding, while Rob tries to get free of his fate by cooperating with the government.
As Colonel O'Malley and his family remain in hiding, Rob Winter finds himself increasingly in a world of fear and greed, moral ambiguity and danger. Forced to accept money from a stranger in order to get a job, Rob is drawn into a shadowy revolutionary underground movement whose intent is to open the eyes of the common man of the increasing danger to the United States. With the backdrop of an unpopular and deadly war overseas, Rob begins to relish his role as a revolutionary and eventually takes over the intellectual control of the underground movement - trying to steer it clear of any morally dangerous shoals, but becoming increasingly aware that forces beneath him are trying to take the revolution to the next step - all out civil war. It is only a matter of time before the two men are reunited and each one must meet his destiny and embrace his fate.
The Thin Line has been almost twenty years in the making. Started as an adventure novel based on a game created by Nick Kibre, Will Robison's tale first evolved when Nick Kibre challenged him with the notion that a dictatorship could exist in the United States without a post-apocalyptic future. After two weeks of deep thinking, Will Robison realized that his friend was right and began to craft a tale that would explain how America could become a dictatorship underneath everyone's noses. With three years of experience as a Naval Intelligence Specialist and countless hours spent doing research, Will Robison has finally started to craft the tale that began to percolate in his mind in 1985.
The Thin Line is a story of betrayal - of country, of friends, of family, and of one's self. It is a complex novel exploring the way people can blind themselves into believing that evil is never done in one's backyard - that it could never happen here. It is a tale straight out of today's headlines, written over the course of twenty years, that is as timeless as the fall of governments throughout history. If you want to know what happens next, read The Thin Line.
(Hey, you know... that's pretty good. I should write book jackets for a living! ;)
My brain is fried. I just finished editing the second act of my Novel. Its my favorite act. It begins with the main characters in real dire straits - peripherally - and it ends with them in real dire straits internally. At times it just seems to meander along, but I'm hoping you can hear the white water just ahead and the plunge that's about to occur.
The problem with the novel has always been the third act. The ending. Not since the glory days of "Old Spies Never Die," have I really had a great ending. The problem with this story is that the focus on the main characters changes in the third act, as needs be, and they slowly become peripheral characters to the main story. It'd be like getting to Return of the Jedi and discovering that R2D2 and C3PO were the main characters all along (and every one else dies in a climactic battle with the Empire... now that's a Star Wars movie I'd pay to see!) I'm reminded of a comment that a Tolkein scholar said about him in the hours of bonus interview footage for the Extended DVD's - "It was like he had no idea how you write a story." His story worked, though, and worked well perhaps as a result of him not following the tried and true formula for story telling. I'm hoping for the same result.
Since I really have nothing else to say, I'm going to add here the brief summary of the Novel from my website - so that if I ever run out of things to blog about again, you'll know what I'm talking about next time I mention the Novel.
The Thin Line is a cautionary tale of two men, Colonel Thomas O'Malley and Rob Winter, on different ends of life's spectrum who meet only hours before the assassination of a political leader, that binds them together on a journey through the pages of a future history that finally answers the question, can it happen here?
Rob Winter is a normal young man looking for his place in the world until the day he meets Colonel Tom O'Malley and finds himself in the middle of a historical event - the assassination of a key political leader. Their bond only grows when a reassigned O'Malley hires Rob Winter to be a lab assistant at a top secret government lab. When the theft of a biological agent occurs at the lab, both men begin to suspect that there may be something sinister going on behind the scenes. After the biological agent is used to deadly effect, Colonel O'Malley goes off in pursuit of the truth while Rob Winter mulls his role in events. When O'Malley discovers the truth, he goes into hiding, while Rob tries to get free of his fate by cooperating with the government.
As Colonel O'Malley and his family remain in hiding, Rob Winter finds himself increasingly in a world of fear and greed, moral ambiguity and danger. Forced to accept money from a stranger in order to get a job, Rob is drawn into a shadowy revolutionary underground movement whose intent is to open the eyes of the common man of the increasing danger to the United States. With the backdrop of an unpopular and deadly war overseas, Rob begins to relish his role as a revolutionary and eventually takes over the intellectual control of the underground movement - trying to steer it clear of any morally dangerous shoals, but becoming increasingly aware that forces beneath him are trying to take the revolution to the next step - all out civil war. It is only a matter of time before the two men are reunited and each one must meet his destiny and embrace his fate.
The Thin Line has been almost twenty years in the making. Started as an adventure novel based on a game created by Nick Kibre, Will Robison's tale first evolved when Nick Kibre challenged him with the notion that a dictatorship could exist in the United States without a post-apocalyptic future. After two weeks of deep thinking, Will Robison realized that his friend was right and began to craft a tale that would explain how America could become a dictatorship underneath everyone's noses. With three years of experience as a Naval Intelligence Specialist and countless hours spent doing research, Will Robison has finally started to craft the tale that began to percolate in his mind in 1985.
The Thin Line is a story of betrayal - of country, of friends, of family, and of one's self. It is a complex novel exploring the way people can blind themselves into believing that evil is never done in one's backyard - that it could never happen here. It is a tale straight out of today's headlines, written over the course of twenty years, that is as timeless as the fall of governments throughout history. If you want to know what happens next, read The Thin Line.
(Hey, you know... that's pretty good. I should write book jackets for a living! ;)
Monday, January 16, 2006
Sound Bites
The Following Internal Dialogue takes place from 9:12pm to 9:38pm (PST) on Saturday, January 14th, 2006:
"Let us pray"... Yeah, let's pray already. That cake looked really good and I can't wait to get a bite of it. The salmon was awesome. Too bad I decided on the cheeseburger. It was huge and juicy and really good, but a little more salmon would have been a smarter choice and my tastebuds would have really thanked me for it. But, its your thing about bones. Yeah, what's up with that? You know I don't like bones. I guess I'm just scared of swallowing them. Hey, shut up already, Page is praying. This is a prayer, dummy, you're supposed to be praying too. Okay, okay, I'm listening.
Man, Andy seems really blocked on this whole issue. I wonder why. It seems so logical to me that you would just suck it up and call. Be the bigger man and make the call. Heather's blog about regrets and not saying goodbye... talk about doing a guilt trip on a person. I remember Grandma wasting away but I had a completely different experience. I remember going to her house to visit during her final weeks and having Auntie Carol all but hit us over the head with a frying pan to keep us from visiting. Grandma really wanted for us to remember her as she was alive, not as she was dying. It must have hurt her much more than it hurt us not to be able to say goodbye - but that was just the way she loved us. I would hate to think that someone were to pass away while I wasted the opportunity to say goodbye. Oh, wait, what the heck am I talking about? I hate hospitals. Gosh, I can be such a hypocrite sometimes. Oh, no, Andy's done... its my turn.
Yeah, yeah... groovy. That was a good prayer. Said just the right things. Didn't talk too long. Just said what was on my mind... which wasn't much really... Now, Victoria's praying. She said something earlier about graduating. That really struck a chord. That whole thing about hearing God last week - that was very cool. And ever since then, its like I feel closer somehow. Like I know He's always around. Oh, no, I'm not becoming one of those icky Christians, am I? We used to call them, Bible Waving Jesus Freaks! I'm not going to start going door to door and praying with people or join one of those store front churches and sing praise hymns and throw rocks at abortion doctors, am I? Maybe. What do you mean, maybe? Maybe you will, and maybe you won't ever feel God's love that closely. What's that supposed to mean? I love God. But some people love Him more. They are farther along in their relationship with Him. Perhaps you will come to that point in your relationship where you want to be more active with your faith. Perhaps not. Perhaps God has other plans for you. You have just started on such a long journey. You have graduated. You are smarter about Christ than you were even two weeks ago. But you don't know nothing yet.
Hey, how come nobody is praying about me? OH COME ON! Satan, do you know ridiculous that sounds? Did you think I would be fooled by that? God has insulated me now. I now know when you use your voice and pretend to be me - trying to make me doubt my own faith. That is So not what I would think while praying. Though the question does beg an answer. Perhaps it is because I was so closed in my prayer and they are so open. My prayer was about me. Their prayers have been about others first. Man, I have such a long way to go. I don't even know how to pray right. There is no right spirit within me. That is why you can attack me, Satan. But I'm on to you now!
What was it that Dan said before, "Christians are the worst sinners because they know they need to be saved." That is so deeply profound. Its so nice to excel at something, even if its sinning! Man, that salmon was really good! Boy, can these people pray? Its taking forever and my butt is starting to hurt. And look at the way I'm wringing my hands - if there was a prize in heaven for physically worshipping God, my hands might be in the final five. I think I can ease back now before I break my fingers though... how much longer is this going to go on? I'm so out of my league. I couldn't pray this long if I tried.
Okay, Dan, sum it all up. Wow! Can this boy pray? Do you think he learned all that in Alabama? His Dad reminds me of my friend, Russ's Dad - The Marlboro Man. That guy is pretty taciturn, but when he speaks its always worth waiting around for. And man can he hike! Oh, you prayed for me. Thank you, Dan. Even though I don't deserve it, thank you! And thank you for seeing my real need. Yes, bringing the kids back home would be great. Wonderful even. But having kids to go, and having kids receive Christ, that's really the whole point of the trip. I am such a bad youth leader - no, not bad - but slow. My reaction time is just too slow. If I'd have been Pastor Dave, I'd have totally been hit with that football. I need God's grace to make me faster. God bless you, Dan.
The children are having so much fun playing. That's great. Let the children come unto me. I think God and I are in agreement on this one. They are still so young. So innocent. Little Joshua kept spilling his macacheese on my pants today and he kept saying, Sorry, and it was so pathetic and heartfelt that it was impossible not to forgive him. I wonder if that is what we are in God's eyes. Imagine the size of God's wallet - with all those photos of his beloved children! Most of us don't get it! We think children are such a burden, that they are noisy and expensive and always acting up. But that's children being children - that's the joy of youth! Children are such a Godsend! Of course, that's easy to say when you don't have them! I don't have to care for them, I only have to care about them.
Oh, we're wrapping up now. I made it. I didn't make a fool of myself. No more inappropriate communication. I remain controversy free for yet another week. Nobody looking at me funny and wondering what I'm smoking. Sometimes, I give them a glimpse of my soul and they can't look past the ugliness to the beauty inside. I really hope they'll be able to see the beauty inside my novel - because there's a lot of ugliness on the surface. Maybe I should blog about that? I don't know. I never know what I'm going to blog about until the words tumble off my fingers. But I probably should blog about this wonderful evening, or people might think that I didn't have a really wonderful time. It really was nice to meet so many fellow Christians and to learn so much about what I have yet to learn. Nice reality check.
"I pray all this in the name of Jesus, Amen."
"Let us pray"... Yeah, let's pray already. That cake looked really good and I can't wait to get a bite of it. The salmon was awesome. Too bad I decided on the cheeseburger. It was huge and juicy and really good, but a little more salmon would have been a smarter choice and my tastebuds would have really thanked me for it. But, its your thing about bones. Yeah, what's up with that? You know I don't like bones. I guess I'm just scared of swallowing them. Hey, shut up already, Page is praying. This is a prayer, dummy, you're supposed to be praying too. Okay, okay, I'm listening.
Man, Andy seems really blocked on this whole issue. I wonder why. It seems so logical to me that you would just suck it up and call. Be the bigger man and make the call. Heather's blog about regrets and not saying goodbye... talk about doing a guilt trip on a person. I remember Grandma wasting away but I had a completely different experience. I remember going to her house to visit during her final weeks and having Auntie Carol all but hit us over the head with a frying pan to keep us from visiting. Grandma really wanted for us to remember her as she was alive, not as she was dying. It must have hurt her much more than it hurt us not to be able to say goodbye - but that was just the way she loved us. I would hate to think that someone were to pass away while I wasted the opportunity to say goodbye. Oh, wait, what the heck am I talking about? I hate hospitals. Gosh, I can be such a hypocrite sometimes. Oh, no, Andy's done... its my turn.
Yeah, yeah... groovy. That was a good prayer. Said just the right things. Didn't talk too long. Just said what was on my mind... which wasn't much really... Now, Victoria's praying. She said something earlier about graduating. That really struck a chord. That whole thing about hearing God last week - that was very cool. And ever since then, its like I feel closer somehow. Like I know He's always around. Oh, no, I'm not becoming one of those icky Christians, am I? We used to call them, Bible Waving Jesus Freaks! I'm not going to start going door to door and praying with people or join one of those store front churches and sing praise hymns and throw rocks at abortion doctors, am I? Maybe. What do you mean, maybe? Maybe you will, and maybe you won't ever feel God's love that closely. What's that supposed to mean? I love God. But some people love Him more. They are farther along in their relationship with Him. Perhaps you will come to that point in your relationship where you want to be more active with your faith. Perhaps not. Perhaps God has other plans for you. You have just started on such a long journey. You have graduated. You are smarter about Christ than you were even two weeks ago. But you don't know nothing yet.
Hey, how come nobody is praying about me? OH COME ON! Satan, do you know ridiculous that sounds? Did you think I would be fooled by that? God has insulated me now. I now know when you use your voice and pretend to be me - trying to make me doubt my own faith. That is So not what I would think while praying. Though the question does beg an answer. Perhaps it is because I was so closed in my prayer and they are so open. My prayer was about me. Their prayers have been about others first. Man, I have such a long way to go. I don't even know how to pray right. There is no right spirit within me. That is why you can attack me, Satan. But I'm on to you now!
What was it that Dan said before, "Christians are the worst sinners because they know they need to be saved." That is so deeply profound. Its so nice to excel at something, even if its sinning! Man, that salmon was really good! Boy, can these people pray? Its taking forever and my butt is starting to hurt. And look at the way I'm wringing my hands - if there was a prize in heaven for physically worshipping God, my hands might be in the final five. I think I can ease back now before I break my fingers though... how much longer is this going to go on? I'm so out of my league. I couldn't pray this long if I tried.
Okay, Dan, sum it all up. Wow! Can this boy pray? Do you think he learned all that in Alabama? His Dad reminds me of my friend, Russ's Dad - The Marlboro Man. That guy is pretty taciturn, but when he speaks its always worth waiting around for. And man can he hike! Oh, you prayed for me. Thank you, Dan. Even though I don't deserve it, thank you! And thank you for seeing my real need. Yes, bringing the kids back home would be great. Wonderful even. But having kids to go, and having kids receive Christ, that's really the whole point of the trip. I am such a bad youth leader - no, not bad - but slow. My reaction time is just too slow. If I'd have been Pastor Dave, I'd have totally been hit with that football. I need God's grace to make me faster. God bless you, Dan.
The children are having so much fun playing. That's great. Let the children come unto me. I think God and I are in agreement on this one. They are still so young. So innocent. Little Joshua kept spilling his macacheese on my pants today and he kept saying, Sorry, and it was so pathetic and heartfelt that it was impossible not to forgive him. I wonder if that is what we are in God's eyes. Imagine the size of God's wallet - with all those photos of his beloved children! Most of us don't get it! We think children are such a burden, that they are noisy and expensive and always acting up. But that's children being children - that's the joy of youth! Children are such a Godsend! Of course, that's easy to say when you don't have them! I don't have to care for them, I only have to care about them.
Oh, we're wrapping up now. I made it. I didn't make a fool of myself. No more inappropriate communication. I remain controversy free for yet another week. Nobody looking at me funny and wondering what I'm smoking. Sometimes, I give them a glimpse of my soul and they can't look past the ugliness to the beauty inside. I really hope they'll be able to see the beauty inside my novel - because there's a lot of ugliness on the surface. Maybe I should blog about that? I don't know. I never know what I'm going to blog about until the words tumble off my fingers. But I probably should blog about this wonderful evening, or people might think that I didn't have a really wonderful time. It really was nice to meet so many fellow Christians and to learn so much about what I have yet to learn. Nice reality check.
"I pray all this in the name of Jesus, Amen."
Friday, January 13, 2006
Son, I believe this is killing me.
This blog is dedicated to the song that has kept my brain wrapped up for the past several weeks - Piano Man, by Billy Joel. Not really the whole song, mind you, just the one line, "Son, I believe this is killing me, as the smile ran away from his face, for I'm sure that I could be a movie star, if I could get out of this place."
Dave Story #1 - My brother Dave tells these stories that I have no idea if they're true, but they sound true. I spread them with the aforementioned warning as to their veracity. According to Dave, Billy Joel had a really bad agent when he first started out. He made an album and got so royally screwed on the deal that when he went to renegotiate the deal for this second album, and the producer wouldn't change the terms, he packed up his stuff and moved to Los Angeles to play piano at a bar until the length of his contract ended. The experiences of those years formed the background for his most famous and vivid song - Piano Man - which he recorded under a brand new deal as soon as he was able to get a better contract. Again... I have no idea if this is true, but if you listen to the lyrics of Piano Man, you can almost picture an LA bar at night and these guys coming up and saying, "Man, what are you doing here?"
The reason I find myself so enraptured with this lyric is because writing my novel is killing me. To be sure, not all at once. I'm not holding a gun to my head. But slowly, inexhorably, like the Terminator, it is relentless in its killing desire.
It attacks me mentally - hour after hour after hour spent planning, editing, writing, editing, planning, editing, writing, editing, planning... you get the gist. There are times when I am done writing when my brain is literally mush. After a few hours of work, there are times when I can't construct a simple sentence. I have rubbed all my brain cells together. I'm not sure I have that many left. I must have drank too much in college.
It attacks my physically - after spending all day at work almost always crunching numbers at a computer for most of the day, I come home and sit in front of my computer writing, often until midnight or later. My sleep cycle while I'm writing is most often between 5 and 6 hours a night for days and weeks on end. I get so tied up sitting at my computer that I'm getting cramps and Charlie Horses in my unused and stiff muscles. Before I started work on my Novel - in 2003 - I used to hike all the time. Now I get out about twice a year. That will change in March when I finish, of course. But I just hope that my Novel isn't published posthumously in the meantime.
It attacks me morally - you can't write a book with big baddies, if they're not big and bad. Like a method actor, I have to envision my story as if I was each character. If a character does something morally unacceptable, I have to get into that character's head space and write the scene. Murder, Rape, and other mayhem have run through my head the past four years (I started the synopsis in 2002). You would think, as I thought, that writing an evil scene wouldn't be any more taxing than writing a good scene - but it is. There are just parts of you that scream out that what you are picturing is evil. But Good isn't nearly as good with the evil to counter balance it. Luke Skywalker blowing up the Evil Galactic Butterfly Catcher is not only silly, but makes Luke appear to be sadistic in context. I just counterbalance my evil scenes with one's filled with good and hope that you'll all forgive me when you realize that just about everyone dies in a tragic way in this book.
So, pretty much I'm in bad shape. My next project may be the big screen adaption of The Wiggles. But this won't occur until I spend at least a year walking all over Europe, studying the religious works of the great Masters, while raising funds for the war orphans of the world.
And only then will I be able to pass an Aerobee again.
Have a good weekend, all. And God bless.
Dave Story #1 - My brother Dave tells these stories that I have no idea if they're true, but they sound true. I spread them with the aforementioned warning as to their veracity. According to Dave, Billy Joel had a really bad agent when he first started out. He made an album and got so royally screwed on the deal that when he went to renegotiate the deal for this second album, and the producer wouldn't change the terms, he packed up his stuff and moved to Los Angeles to play piano at a bar until the length of his contract ended. The experiences of those years formed the background for his most famous and vivid song - Piano Man - which he recorded under a brand new deal as soon as he was able to get a better contract. Again... I have no idea if this is true, but if you listen to the lyrics of Piano Man, you can almost picture an LA bar at night and these guys coming up and saying, "Man, what are you doing here?"
The reason I find myself so enraptured with this lyric is because writing my novel is killing me. To be sure, not all at once. I'm not holding a gun to my head. But slowly, inexhorably, like the Terminator, it is relentless in its killing desire.
It attacks me mentally - hour after hour after hour spent planning, editing, writing, editing, planning, editing, writing, editing, planning... you get the gist. There are times when I am done writing when my brain is literally mush. After a few hours of work, there are times when I can't construct a simple sentence. I have rubbed all my brain cells together. I'm not sure I have that many left. I must have drank too much in college.
It attacks my physically - after spending all day at work almost always crunching numbers at a computer for most of the day, I come home and sit in front of my computer writing, often until midnight or later. My sleep cycle while I'm writing is most often between 5 and 6 hours a night for days and weeks on end. I get so tied up sitting at my computer that I'm getting cramps and Charlie Horses in my unused and stiff muscles. Before I started work on my Novel - in 2003 - I used to hike all the time. Now I get out about twice a year. That will change in March when I finish, of course. But I just hope that my Novel isn't published posthumously in the meantime.
It attacks me morally - you can't write a book with big baddies, if they're not big and bad. Like a method actor, I have to envision my story as if I was each character. If a character does something morally unacceptable, I have to get into that character's head space and write the scene. Murder, Rape, and other mayhem have run through my head the past four years (I started the synopsis in 2002). You would think, as I thought, that writing an evil scene wouldn't be any more taxing than writing a good scene - but it is. There are just parts of you that scream out that what you are picturing is evil. But Good isn't nearly as good with the evil to counter balance it. Luke Skywalker blowing up the Evil Galactic Butterfly Catcher is not only silly, but makes Luke appear to be sadistic in context. I just counterbalance my evil scenes with one's filled with good and hope that you'll all forgive me when you realize that just about everyone dies in a tragic way in this book.
So, pretty much I'm in bad shape. My next project may be the big screen adaption of The Wiggles. But this won't occur until I spend at least a year walking all over Europe, studying the religious works of the great Masters, while raising funds for the war orphans of the world.
And only then will I be able to pass an Aerobee again.
Have a good weekend, all. And God bless.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Your Money Is No Good Here
My Dad tells a story about me. When we were little (2nd Grade) we went to Europe. My Dad had taught us the rudiments of every language; please, thank you, I don't speak the language - that sort of stuff. We reached the small Bavarian village of Garmish Partenkirken up in the Bavarian Alps and stayed in a little inn at the end of a valley. There was a little store across the street that sold postcards and ice creams and things like that. My Dad handed me some German Franks and told me to go over and get some ice cream. This was going to be a test of my ability to handle a transaction in a foreign country. I wasn't fearless, I just didn't know any better.
I went across the street, pointed to the ice cream I wanted, and said Einz, Bitte. (One, please). The shop owner very graciously picked up the ice cream and handed it to me and then quoted me the price. I handed him the money. And then the German Shop Owner started speaking to me in fluent German. I didn't have a clue what he was saying. I just stood there, stunned, hoping for something that made sense.
My Dad had been watching me from the window and quickly realized that something was wrong. He ran across the street to the store and suddenly realized that his own 3rd Grade Level German wasn't going to cut it. He couldn't understand what the man was trying to say either.
Finally, a tourist came along who could translate and he explained that the money I had was old. The currency had changed since the 72 Olympics when my Dad had been there last. In short, my money was no good there.
I was thinking of this the other day when I realized that what money we had, and what we did with that money, was all just a big test. My Dad could have easily gone across the street and bought the ice cream for me, but he knew that I would never learn to trust my abilities to converse in any language if I didn't try it on my own. Spending the money was just a test. And so it is with God. God doesn't need money. He owns everything. He can create anything. Money to God is like the points on Whose Line Is It Anyway - it doesn't matter. He uses it to test us. He uses it to see what we will do with it. It is a character test. It is a patience test. It is a test of our faith.
We all like to pay attention to the first half of the scripture, Render Unto Caesar, What Is Caesar's... it justifies our having to pay taxes and other burdensome issues and keeps us from sacking and pillaging Halliburton and Exxon/Mobil. But there is another half to the message, Render Unto God, What Is God's. He owns us too. Money means nothing to Him, but we are His most important possessions. And we should give ourselves to our creator.
I went across the street, pointed to the ice cream I wanted, and said Einz, Bitte. (One, please). The shop owner very graciously picked up the ice cream and handed it to me and then quoted me the price. I handed him the money. And then the German Shop Owner started speaking to me in fluent German. I didn't have a clue what he was saying. I just stood there, stunned, hoping for something that made sense.
My Dad had been watching me from the window and quickly realized that something was wrong. He ran across the street to the store and suddenly realized that his own 3rd Grade Level German wasn't going to cut it. He couldn't understand what the man was trying to say either.
Finally, a tourist came along who could translate and he explained that the money I had was old. The currency had changed since the 72 Olympics when my Dad had been there last. In short, my money was no good there.
I was thinking of this the other day when I realized that what money we had, and what we did with that money, was all just a big test. My Dad could have easily gone across the street and bought the ice cream for me, but he knew that I would never learn to trust my abilities to converse in any language if I didn't try it on my own. Spending the money was just a test. And so it is with God. God doesn't need money. He owns everything. He can create anything. Money to God is like the points on Whose Line Is It Anyway - it doesn't matter. He uses it to test us. He uses it to see what we will do with it. It is a character test. It is a patience test. It is a test of our faith.
We all like to pay attention to the first half of the scripture, Render Unto Caesar, What Is Caesar's... it justifies our having to pay taxes and other burdensome issues and keeps us from sacking and pillaging Halliburton and Exxon/Mobil. But there is another half to the message, Render Unto God, What Is God's. He owns us too. Money means nothing to Him, but we are His most important possessions. And we should give ourselves to our creator.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Life in the Fast Lane
I can not begin to do Donald Miller's book justice. "Searching For God Know's What" is a deep exploration of a personal relationship with God. In this book, Miller outlines his theory about humanity, which he entitles The Lifeboat Theory. It goes something like this. Picture a lifeboat after a shipwreck. Everyone is crammed inside a tiny boat and dependent on one another in order to survive. But rather than everyone getting along equally with each other - after all, we've all got just as much right to survive as the next guy, right - heirarchies of importance begin to develop. Who's got more right to live becomes an unwritten contest and people in the lifeboat begin to side with the most important people because group concensus decides who stays and who goes. Applied to real life, we find ourselves constantly competing for everything from one another - from love to respect to money to power - all trying to be the head of the lifeboat. Our opinions are shaped more by who we know than what we know. We all want to be the cool kid. Ultimately, that's what it most reminded me of - Junior High School. And that was why I had a huge problem with the theory. While it sounded good, I knew that the world wasn't a giant overgrown recreation of Jr. High School - that our social development was far more complex and dynamic than who was cool and popular.
It reminded me of what I'd learned in Anthropology. Studies of emerging people (tribes that had little or no contact with modern people) suggest that all conflict is waged over a limited or dwindling resource. Amongst the Yanamamo Indian tribe of Venezuela (if I remember right... this was more than 10 years ago) there was little sign of conflict with anyone until another people started encroaching on their hunting grounds and food became scarce. Suddenly, the Yanamamo engaged in open warfare with other tribes and with one another for the dwindling resource of food. Throughout history and pre-history, again and again, any time warfare was found to exist, there was usually a resource that was also missing. This, of course, lends credence to the notion of War for Oil, but I'm just as inclined to think that sometimes bigger countries can just be bullies for no apparent reason.
However, yesterday I figured out that there might just be a kernel of truth behind both of these theories. I was driving home and, as usual, I got stuck behind someone who wanted to go 50 in a 65 zone on the freeway. I was patient. I waited until we got off the freeway and then I changed lanes to go around this guy so that I could proceed on my way. Well, no sooner did I change lanes than the guy sped up to like 65 in a 50 zone to try and get in front of me again. No way was I going to let this slow jerk get in front of me. So we ended up racing down the street at 65 - just to keep either one of us from getting the upper-hand.
There are rules to driving that have nothing to do with the Driver's Handbook. Never cut anyone off. Never let yourself be cut off. Always go around the slower drivers, cause if they're slow now, they'll be even slower later on. Never get behind a Volvo. Never throw a turn signal until you're just about to change lanes because if you do, someone will speed up to keep you from changing lanes. Always speed up when someone throws their turn signal because someone coming into your lane is bound to be slower than you. You're only as fast as the car in front of you. Slow kills - not speed. Be aggressive at all times - unless there's a cop around.Some of you follow these rules. Some of you follow only some of them. Some of you don't seem to have a clue that the rules exist. The rules vary from place to place and from state to state - but they all have one thing in common. Bad drivers should just get out of my darn way!
Okay, I may exaggerate a little - though I know anyone who's been in my car might argue about how little I exaggerate. The point I'm trying to make is that Miller was right. My lane, my way, my, my, my... get out of MY LIFEBOAT! I have turned the highways into my own little example of Lifeboat Theory. But, at the same time, Anthropology is also right. I never act this way when there are few people on the highway. The rules are suspended when there aren't enough people to play the game. Competition disappears when there are no competitors, nothing to compete for, and we can all just relax and go about our business. What, ultimately, am I competing for on the highway - time? I want to get home in a hurry so that I can relax more? Quality of life? Superiority? Some sort of unwritten obligation? Do I think that the world owes me a smooth ride home?
Miller points out that the problem with a Lifeboat Mentality is that it does not recognize our most important relationship - our relationship with God. If we were all in a lifeboat with God, and He had this mentalitly, we'd all be swimming. But through the grace and mercy of God, and because He's not like us, none of us are going swimming today. In fact, to lighten the lifeboat's load, Jesus volunteered to get in the water and be eaten by sharks. He died for our sins. Other than Leonardo DiCaprio, I know of no other person that would willing leave the raft to rescue others (that was a Titanic reference, in case you missed it ;)
When I drive, then, I am too concerned with other drivers taking something from me that I don't own. I am too concerned with losing my precious commodity - whatever it might be. I am too concerned with not being the best driver or not being the fastest driver - that I don't seem to recall God at all. Call it the Enemy throwing cars in front of me. Call it God trying to get me to slow down. Ultimately, it comes down to my own attitudes and how they affect the way I drive. If I love God, I'll drive differently.
As soon as I can, I'm switching to a bicycle... this lifeboat's getting too crowded for my soul.
It reminded me of what I'd learned in Anthropology. Studies of emerging people (tribes that had little or no contact with modern people) suggest that all conflict is waged over a limited or dwindling resource. Amongst the Yanamamo Indian tribe of Venezuela (if I remember right... this was more than 10 years ago) there was little sign of conflict with anyone until another people started encroaching on their hunting grounds and food became scarce. Suddenly, the Yanamamo engaged in open warfare with other tribes and with one another for the dwindling resource of food. Throughout history and pre-history, again and again, any time warfare was found to exist, there was usually a resource that was also missing. This, of course, lends credence to the notion of War for Oil, but I'm just as inclined to think that sometimes bigger countries can just be bullies for no apparent reason.
However, yesterday I figured out that there might just be a kernel of truth behind both of these theories. I was driving home and, as usual, I got stuck behind someone who wanted to go 50 in a 65 zone on the freeway. I was patient. I waited until we got off the freeway and then I changed lanes to go around this guy so that I could proceed on my way. Well, no sooner did I change lanes than the guy sped up to like 65 in a 50 zone to try and get in front of me again. No way was I going to let this slow jerk get in front of me. So we ended up racing down the street at 65 - just to keep either one of us from getting the upper-hand.
There are rules to driving that have nothing to do with the Driver's Handbook. Never cut anyone off. Never let yourself be cut off. Always go around the slower drivers, cause if they're slow now, they'll be even slower later on. Never get behind a Volvo. Never throw a turn signal until you're just about to change lanes because if you do, someone will speed up to keep you from changing lanes. Always speed up when someone throws their turn signal because someone coming into your lane is bound to be slower than you. You're only as fast as the car in front of you. Slow kills - not speed. Be aggressive at all times - unless there's a cop around.Some of you follow these rules. Some of you follow only some of them. Some of you don't seem to have a clue that the rules exist. The rules vary from place to place and from state to state - but they all have one thing in common. Bad drivers should just get out of my darn way!
Okay, I may exaggerate a little - though I know anyone who's been in my car might argue about how little I exaggerate. The point I'm trying to make is that Miller was right. My lane, my way, my, my, my... get out of MY LIFEBOAT! I have turned the highways into my own little example of Lifeboat Theory. But, at the same time, Anthropology is also right. I never act this way when there are few people on the highway. The rules are suspended when there aren't enough people to play the game. Competition disappears when there are no competitors, nothing to compete for, and we can all just relax and go about our business. What, ultimately, am I competing for on the highway - time? I want to get home in a hurry so that I can relax more? Quality of life? Superiority? Some sort of unwritten obligation? Do I think that the world owes me a smooth ride home?
Miller points out that the problem with a Lifeboat Mentality is that it does not recognize our most important relationship - our relationship with God. If we were all in a lifeboat with God, and He had this mentalitly, we'd all be swimming. But through the grace and mercy of God, and because He's not like us, none of us are going swimming today. In fact, to lighten the lifeboat's load, Jesus volunteered to get in the water and be eaten by sharks. He died for our sins. Other than Leonardo DiCaprio, I know of no other person that would willing leave the raft to rescue others (that was a Titanic reference, in case you missed it ;)
When I drive, then, I am too concerned with other drivers taking something from me that I don't own. I am too concerned with losing my precious commodity - whatever it might be. I am too concerned with not being the best driver or not being the fastest driver - that I don't seem to recall God at all. Call it the Enemy throwing cars in front of me. Call it God trying to get me to slow down. Ultimately, it comes down to my own attitudes and how they affect the way I drive. If I love God, I'll drive differently.
As soon as I can, I'm switching to a bicycle... this lifeboat's getting too crowded for my soul.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
God Spoke To Me
Okay, maybe the meds are finally kicking in, or its one of those strange side effects that you hear about on the TV ads (Side effects may include high blood pressure, bloody noses, and hearing the Voice of God), but last night, or more accurately, this morning God Spoke To Me.
I should backtrack a little. I was having this really bizarre dream that only in afterthought did it occur to me that it was a metaphor for my life so far. It started with me driving a very long distance from home to see Karen. Now, I pointed out in the comments of one of my previous blogs that I don't think of Karen often. So perhaps it was the blog that prompted me to dream of her, I don't know - but it was unusual. I met her on a street that looked like my own overlooking the ocean (only with a much better view) and she explained to me why we had broken up (I was being dense as usual ;) But just as she finished explaining this to me, Harry Potter called for help. He was about to be turned into a werewolf and he needed me to roll a good saving throw or else he was doomed forever. I rolled a 17 on a D20 and he survived. But I needed to hop on his Quidditch broom and go get water. I ended up in a foreign castle stealing some Hawaiian Punch and returning just in time to rescue Harry and his friends. I now had to hop in my car and drive home. I drove through this desolate part of town where everything was barren and lifeless. Then I exited the car and started walking. I passed a group of people who were fighting a fire, but I couldn't be bothered. It started to hail and I hid briefly from the hail under a woman's umbrella, but it wasn't shelter. So I ran into a building until the hail had passed and then, finally I reached what I thought was home, only to discover that I was still far, far from home and I had no idea where my car was. I continued to walk and after about ten miles I came to this beautiful resort where my parents were on vacation. They agreed to loan me the car, but while I was there, a friend of mine invited me to her wedding and there were all these bridesmaids who wouldn't give me the time of day and... in the back of my mind, I could hear the clock radio - they were talking about football, and my mind was still focused on the dream, and then, I heard Him.
"Will"
It was not my own mind. And it wasn't on the radio. Over both of those voices - external and internal - on a sort of PA system that played directly into my brain, I heard God. The voice was quiet, peaceful, powerful, and loving - in a way that we all wish our voices could be and Adam Adamson only wishes his Aslan could have sounded like.
It seemed almost trivial. I woke up immediately and turned off my clock radio before the air raid siren sounded to fully wake me up. I sat up in bed and blinked back the sleep, the dream still fully in my mind and I thought, "God spoke to me... God Spoke To Me!" And then I thought, "God woke me up. Now, that's what I call service!"
I've been walking around all day now thinking about the implications of this one word. I am constantly reminded of Samuel hearing God's voice. "Samuel, Samuel," God called and Samuel was convinced that it was the Priest. But the Priest finally realized that it was God and told Samuel to answer Him. I realized that I've been hearing my name quite a bit lately - floating on the wind. I've assumed I was crazy or that someone had called my name and then changed their mind.
But now I know. It was God. The message was a little vague, but it was still God. And I've been wondering what He wants me to do. And then, it occurred to me - God's already told me what to do. He's told us all what to do. And we've been standing around like Sleeper Agents on Earth, waiting for the activation word - the code word that'll send us out to do His mission. Well, I think I've just been activated.
Praise God. He is alive. And He does speak to you!
P.S. This blog may have unintended side effects that may include spontaneous praising, unintentional smiles, and hearing the Voice of God. If any of these symptoms should occur, please consult a Bible immediately. Use only as directed.
I should backtrack a little. I was having this really bizarre dream that only in afterthought did it occur to me that it was a metaphor for my life so far. It started with me driving a very long distance from home to see Karen. Now, I pointed out in the comments of one of my previous blogs that I don't think of Karen often. So perhaps it was the blog that prompted me to dream of her, I don't know - but it was unusual. I met her on a street that looked like my own overlooking the ocean (only with a much better view) and she explained to me why we had broken up (I was being dense as usual ;) But just as she finished explaining this to me, Harry Potter called for help. He was about to be turned into a werewolf and he needed me to roll a good saving throw or else he was doomed forever. I rolled a 17 on a D20 and he survived. But I needed to hop on his Quidditch broom and go get water. I ended up in a foreign castle stealing some Hawaiian Punch and returning just in time to rescue Harry and his friends. I now had to hop in my car and drive home. I drove through this desolate part of town where everything was barren and lifeless. Then I exited the car and started walking. I passed a group of people who were fighting a fire, but I couldn't be bothered. It started to hail and I hid briefly from the hail under a woman's umbrella, but it wasn't shelter. So I ran into a building until the hail had passed and then, finally I reached what I thought was home, only to discover that I was still far, far from home and I had no idea where my car was. I continued to walk and after about ten miles I came to this beautiful resort where my parents were on vacation. They agreed to loan me the car, but while I was there, a friend of mine invited me to her wedding and there were all these bridesmaids who wouldn't give me the time of day and... in the back of my mind, I could hear the clock radio - they were talking about football, and my mind was still focused on the dream, and then, I heard Him.
"Will"
It was not my own mind. And it wasn't on the radio. Over both of those voices - external and internal - on a sort of PA system that played directly into my brain, I heard God. The voice was quiet, peaceful, powerful, and loving - in a way that we all wish our voices could be and Adam Adamson only wishes his Aslan could have sounded like.
It seemed almost trivial. I woke up immediately and turned off my clock radio before the air raid siren sounded to fully wake me up. I sat up in bed and blinked back the sleep, the dream still fully in my mind and I thought, "God spoke to me... God Spoke To Me!" And then I thought, "God woke me up. Now, that's what I call service!"
I've been walking around all day now thinking about the implications of this one word. I am constantly reminded of Samuel hearing God's voice. "Samuel, Samuel," God called and Samuel was convinced that it was the Priest. But the Priest finally realized that it was God and told Samuel to answer Him. I realized that I've been hearing my name quite a bit lately - floating on the wind. I've assumed I was crazy or that someone had called my name and then changed their mind.
But now I know. It was God. The message was a little vague, but it was still God. And I've been wondering what He wants me to do. And then, it occurred to me - God's already told me what to do. He's told us all what to do. And we've been standing around like Sleeper Agents on Earth, waiting for the activation word - the code word that'll send us out to do His mission. Well, I think I've just been activated.
Praise God. He is alive. And He does speak to you!
P.S. This blog may have unintended side effects that may include spontaneous praising, unintentional smiles, and hearing the Voice of God. If any of these symptoms should occur, please consult a Bible immediately. Use only as directed.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Cyber Service
The Lord said, "Go and make disciples of all nations." I can think of no better way of attempting that than with the Cyber Church.
In the 1980's, with the rise of cable television and public access cable, we saw the rise of televangelism. Here was a way to spread the gospel quicker, faster, and farther than the traditional Sunday preaching and Revival tours could. But Televangelism cost money - production costs and airwave time. This lead to bigger calls for teledonations, which led to more ambitious plans for the church, which led to more calls for money. Eventually, we all saw the temptations these televangelists faced and the immoral decay that eroded the televangelism ministries.
Now there's the potential for a televangelist revival of sorts - A Cybervangelist. But the network is not cable television. People come on to the web not to be preached at, but to interact with. They seek out communities of fellow thinkers and believers and they join in discussions that tend to be mostly about preaching to the choir. This is, currently, the one biggest drawback of the cyber church - we're preaching to the choir (An American cliche meaning that we're trying to convert people who already think as we do).
Chez is doing the right thing - he is trying to reach his friends that have yet to come to know the bounty of Christ's good teaching. This used to be a function of the real life church - to provide places to interact and learn the faith, as well as make new relationships and friendships. And it still is. But it can also be a function of the cyber church - provided that we approach our cybervangelism in a new internet kind of way.
We must be open to new ideas. We must be open to different ways of seeing things. We must be open to new technology and new approaches to learning. We must be sensitive to people's needs, but also to their space.
I was having dinner with my Pastor's family last night and the discussion turned to the many different models currently being employed for worship. They mentioned a church in San Diego that had 13 different services running at the same time with different music and different styles in each service. They had bought out an old school and set up a different service in each classroom. And then, using CCTV, they broadcast the sermon from a central location into each service so that the daily message was the same for each of the 13 services. This kind of tailorized Christian experience is the direction that a cyber church should go - while at the same time allowing for people to broaden their horizons.
I picture, instead, a Cyber Service - conducted along much the same lines as a Blogger Limelight - where one person hosts the service and everyone contributes something to it via their own blog. So that, for instance, on Sunday I would set up the Cyber Service blog, welcoming guests to our Cyber Church. From my Cyber Service blog would be links to Elisa's blog for the opening prayer, Andy's blog for the Sunday scripture, Pastor Peter's blog for the musical interlude, and Ariel's blog for the Sermon/Message. This would not be a substitute for our worshipping experience in REAL life, but an addition to it. And the best part would be that we would change it around and experience the different opinions of all God's people. The next week, it might be Chez doing the opening prayer, and Dan with the scriptures, and Jim with a heartfelt poem, and Sue with the Sermon. Or we might not have a Sermon at all. We might just all gather around and write Psalms one Sunday. Rather than trying for a homogenized service that was the same from week to week, we would determinedly try to keep our Cyber Service fresh and revitalizing.
Eventually, it would be hoped, our Cybervangelism would spread and other cyber churches and cyber services would spring up around the globe and we'd all have the opportunity to experience as much of God's wonderful world as possible through cyber worship with our fellow sisters and brothers everywhere.
That would be the best way to spread the gospel. That would be the best use of cyber space.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Fried Day Blog Thought Thingy
Brain is mush. Edited 5 chapters of Novel last night. Wrote seriously long blogs on two successive Thursdays. Don't have much more in the mental gas tank - and the cost of what I have keeps going up.
That being said, let's get on with this blog thingie...
First, some parting shots at the week that was.
I find myself actually changing my mind on two very serious issues - Troops in Iraq and the suitability of our Governor. I also have a wonderful new view on scripture thanks to Donald Miller's Book, "Searching for God Know's What".
For those of you who don't know, and I haven't exactly been making it common knowledge, I was an Intelligence Specialist for the Navy during the first Gulf War. My area of expertise is the Pacific Rim, the Indian Ocean, and the Persian Gulf. I've been against the war since the idea was first presented. I knew that we were only mucking around in Iraq to fulfill some sort of macho Presidential fantasy and that it had nothing to do with any real threat to the United States. That being said, there is now a real threat to the United States and the world in that region and its name is Iran. Because we've destabalized the region with our blundering attempts to steal the Iraqi oil, we've actually strengthened the hardliners in Iran. The Leader of that country has called for the eradication of Israel and has said that the holocaust never happened. Unfortunately, that now means that U.S. ground troops can't possibly leave the region - because we would so destabalize Iraq by pulling out now that Iran would simply walk in to the country and have it handed to them on a platter. Its gut check time for the weenie in the White House. This is a serious brewing international crisis. If he pulls out now, it only shows just how much he really could care less about the war on terror.
I also happened to see the last ten minutes or so of Arnie's State of the State speech last night and I thought it was absolutely fantastic. I don't for once think that he's a better politician than he was six months ago. But I think he's starting to ignore his Republican cronies and do the job he was supposed to do when elected. If he stays on this course for the next year or so until the next election, I might even vote for him. We'll see... we'll see...
Donald Miller's book, which I will get back into writing about next week, includes the tail end of a scripture passage that we all know and love - "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." I guess I'd probably read this thing so many times that I'd just glossed over the ending of the story. I read it last night and I actually found it more poignant than the first part of the story. After some serious grumbling, everyone drops their stones in the street and walks away. Then, Jesus turns to the just saved prostitute and says, "Go now, and sin no more." I read that and I just felt Jesus's love and compassion for us all. He literally saved her from a horrible death, but instead of taking her in his arms and hugging her or telling her that it was alright, he said, "Go now, and sin no more." And you can bet that she did. What a beautiful story.
Okay, quickly, my silly stuff...
Top Ten Favorite Movie Scenes from 2005
10. Every scene with Marv in the film Sin City.
9. La Vie Boheme in the film Rent.
8. Anakin Skywalker kills the kids in Star Wars - Ep. III.
7. The Crash Landing at the end of the film Serenity.
6. Santa Fe in the film Rent.
5. Order 69 (or whatever it was)in Star Wars - Ep. III.
4. The Dinner Scene in Wedding Crashers.
3. The Initial Attack in War of the Worlds. (The rest of the film stunk!)
2. Obi-Wan vs. Anakin in Star Wars - Ep. III.
and
1. King King vs. the T-Rex's in King Kong.
See you on Monday with a little limelight I like to call The Virtual Church Service.
That being said, let's get on with this blog thingie...
First, some parting shots at the week that was.
I find myself actually changing my mind on two very serious issues - Troops in Iraq and the suitability of our Governor. I also have a wonderful new view on scripture thanks to Donald Miller's Book, "Searching for God Know's What".
For those of you who don't know, and I haven't exactly been making it common knowledge, I was an Intelligence Specialist for the Navy during the first Gulf War. My area of expertise is the Pacific Rim, the Indian Ocean, and the Persian Gulf. I've been against the war since the idea was first presented. I knew that we were only mucking around in Iraq to fulfill some sort of macho Presidential fantasy and that it had nothing to do with any real threat to the United States. That being said, there is now a real threat to the United States and the world in that region and its name is Iran. Because we've destabalized the region with our blundering attempts to steal the Iraqi oil, we've actually strengthened the hardliners in Iran. The Leader of that country has called for the eradication of Israel and has said that the holocaust never happened. Unfortunately, that now means that U.S. ground troops can't possibly leave the region - because we would so destabalize Iraq by pulling out now that Iran would simply walk in to the country and have it handed to them on a platter. Its gut check time for the weenie in the White House. This is a serious brewing international crisis. If he pulls out now, it only shows just how much he really could care less about the war on terror.
I also happened to see the last ten minutes or so of Arnie's State of the State speech last night and I thought it was absolutely fantastic. I don't for once think that he's a better politician than he was six months ago. But I think he's starting to ignore his Republican cronies and do the job he was supposed to do when elected. If he stays on this course for the next year or so until the next election, I might even vote for him. We'll see... we'll see...
Donald Miller's book, which I will get back into writing about next week, includes the tail end of a scripture passage that we all know and love - "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." I guess I'd probably read this thing so many times that I'd just glossed over the ending of the story. I read it last night and I actually found it more poignant than the first part of the story. After some serious grumbling, everyone drops their stones in the street and walks away. Then, Jesus turns to the just saved prostitute and says, "Go now, and sin no more." I read that and I just felt Jesus's love and compassion for us all. He literally saved her from a horrible death, but instead of taking her in his arms and hugging her or telling her that it was alright, he said, "Go now, and sin no more." And you can bet that she did. What a beautiful story.
Okay, quickly, my silly stuff...
Top Ten Favorite Movie Scenes from 2005
10. Every scene with Marv in the film Sin City.
9. La Vie Boheme in the film Rent.
8. Anakin Skywalker kills the kids in Star Wars - Ep. III.
7. The Crash Landing at the end of the film Serenity.
6. Santa Fe in the film Rent.
5. Order 69 (or whatever it was)in Star Wars - Ep. III.
4. The Dinner Scene in Wedding Crashers.
3. The Initial Attack in War of the Worlds. (The rest of the film stunk!)
2. Obi-Wan vs. Anakin in Star Wars - Ep. III.
and
1. King King vs. the T-Rex's in King Kong.
See you on Monday with a little limelight I like to call The Virtual Church Service.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
THINGS UNMENTIONABLE
A couple of things have prompted me to create a blog on the topic of sex. The first, and most important, was the question I was asked a while back about why I was still not married. The second, and more recent, was a concern someone shared with me about this topic. I admit that I was not eager to write on this subject, but since I'm here, let's get to it.
I first had sex when I was 16. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made. Though it certainly didn't feel like it at the time, the issues and emotions raised were far too much for my little mind to handle. It warped me in ways that I'm only now realizing.
I started down this slippery slope when I met and fell in love with Karen. We had been friends before I suddenly realized that I had strong and passionate feeling for her. Not puppy love kind of feelings. Not infatuation kind of feelings. Love - pure, deep, and hopelessly romantic. We started going out together in March. By June, we started to have sex. It was hot and passionate and hopelessly bungled - but we were young and in love and completely independent people. After a few wild and crazy encounters, we decided (rightly) to stop and take a breather. But it was too late.
Sex at that age is a narcotic. It gets into your system and warps your outlook on all things. I'd never had any experience with women before Karen. I'd had a crush once, but was completely rejected. Karen was the first girl I'd kissed. After the sex, I became convinced that she was the only girl for me. I was completely confident that she was the woman I was going to marry and love forever. These were very unnatural thoughts for a kid my age, but you couldn't have convinced me otherwise - and I'm still not sure I believe it now. But once you have sex, and open yourself up so completely to another person, its hard not to form that deep bond. And its even harder to let that bond go.
We stayed together far longer than we should have. When I went off to the Navy in 1988, I even proposed to her. She accepted. I was incredibly happy - but completely in a fantasy world. I went off to Hawaii for three years to serve my country. And though I saw her whenever I could, the distance between us started to grow. But I had invested so much of my heart and my mind in her, that I refused to see it. I just knew that when I got out of the Navy, we were going to get married and live happily ever after.
6 months after I got out of the Navy, we broke up. I was so devastated by it that I almost literally don't remember anything that happened for the next two years. I was there, and I remember some highlights, but basically my life became one long blur of mere existence. Though I eventually recovered and went on with my life, parts of me are still on auto-pilot.
My love life has never recovered. I never bothered to learn how to date, how to ask anyone out, or any of that stuff. I had my future wife. I didn't need to know anything. When it comes to women, I'm no better than a third grader. I am socially stunted.
I say all of this not as a Poor Me. I'm okay with my life. We all have regrets. We all make mistakes. We all move on. I'm no different. I say this because it all could have been avoided.
I thought I was so much smarter than everyone. I thought I could handle sex. I thought that as long as I used birth control and took precautions that nothing could touch me. I had no idea why the Bible said don't have sex until you're married - but assumed it was one of those grey areas, like not eating pork. I was in love and I was going to marry this woman and grow old with her - so what difference did it make if I didn't wait until after marriage?
I've come to realize that a lot of the rules in the Bible are not there arbitrarily. They are there as good common sense. This is no more true than in the case of pre-marital sex. Perhaps if the Bible read, "Don't have Pre-Marital sex because its a really, really bad idea," people would heed it more carefully.
When you have sex as a teenager, suddenly that is what you want. You don't care about a career. You don't care about school. You don't care about being friends, or dating a nice girl. You just want sex. And there's no way to put the genie back in the bottle after the fact.
So, with regrets, I say that its too late for me. Parents, if you've got teenagers or soon to be teenagers, tell them the truth. Don't tell them no. Tell them why its no. Explain the terrible reprecussions to them - and not just the part about STD's, unwanted pregnancies, AIDS, and all that. Tell them about the pandora's box of feelings they're going to start feeling - jealousy, and obsession, rage and passion, addiction and withdrawl. Tell them about broken hearts and broken promises. Tell them about cheating lovers, lies, and terrible crimes of passion. These are all the baggage they will take with them once they start down that long road. Do whatever it takes to keep them from taking those first steps... until they are good and ready.
I first had sex when I was 16. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made. Though it certainly didn't feel like it at the time, the issues and emotions raised were far too much for my little mind to handle. It warped me in ways that I'm only now realizing.
I started down this slippery slope when I met and fell in love with Karen. We had been friends before I suddenly realized that I had strong and passionate feeling for her. Not puppy love kind of feelings. Not infatuation kind of feelings. Love - pure, deep, and hopelessly romantic. We started going out together in March. By June, we started to have sex. It was hot and passionate and hopelessly bungled - but we were young and in love and completely independent people. After a few wild and crazy encounters, we decided (rightly) to stop and take a breather. But it was too late.
Sex at that age is a narcotic. It gets into your system and warps your outlook on all things. I'd never had any experience with women before Karen. I'd had a crush once, but was completely rejected. Karen was the first girl I'd kissed. After the sex, I became convinced that she was the only girl for me. I was completely confident that she was the woman I was going to marry and love forever. These were very unnatural thoughts for a kid my age, but you couldn't have convinced me otherwise - and I'm still not sure I believe it now. But once you have sex, and open yourself up so completely to another person, its hard not to form that deep bond. And its even harder to let that bond go.
We stayed together far longer than we should have. When I went off to the Navy in 1988, I even proposed to her. She accepted. I was incredibly happy - but completely in a fantasy world. I went off to Hawaii for three years to serve my country. And though I saw her whenever I could, the distance between us started to grow. But I had invested so much of my heart and my mind in her, that I refused to see it. I just knew that when I got out of the Navy, we were going to get married and live happily ever after.
6 months after I got out of the Navy, we broke up. I was so devastated by it that I almost literally don't remember anything that happened for the next two years. I was there, and I remember some highlights, but basically my life became one long blur of mere existence. Though I eventually recovered and went on with my life, parts of me are still on auto-pilot.
My love life has never recovered. I never bothered to learn how to date, how to ask anyone out, or any of that stuff. I had my future wife. I didn't need to know anything. When it comes to women, I'm no better than a third grader. I am socially stunted.
I say all of this not as a Poor Me. I'm okay with my life. We all have regrets. We all make mistakes. We all move on. I'm no different. I say this because it all could have been avoided.
I thought I was so much smarter than everyone. I thought I could handle sex. I thought that as long as I used birth control and took precautions that nothing could touch me. I had no idea why the Bible said don't have sex until you're married - but assumed it was one of those grey areas, like not eating pork. I was in love and I was going to marry this woman and grow old with her - so what difference did it make if I didn't wait until after marriage?
I've come to realize that a lot of the rules in the Bible are not there arbitrarily. They are there as good common sense. This is no more true than in the case of pre-marital sex. Perhaps if the Bible read, "Don't have Pre-Marital sex because its a really, really bad idea," people would heed it more carefully.
When you have sex as a teenager, suddenly that is what you want. You don't care about a career. You don't care about school. You don't care about being friends, or dating a nice girl. You just want sex. And there's no way to put the genie back in the bottle after the fact.
So, with regrets, I say that its too late for me. Parents, if you've got teenagers or soon to be teenagers, tell them the truth. Don't tell them no. Tell them why its no. Explain the terrible reprecussions to them - and not just the part about STD's, unwanted pregnancies, AIDS, and all that. Tell them about the pandora's box of feelings they're going to start feeling - jealousy, and obsession, rage and passion, addiction and withdrawl. Tell them about broken hearts and broken promises. Tell them about cheating lovers, lies, and terrible crimes of passion. These are all the baggage they will take with them once they start down that long road. Do whatever it takes to keep them from taking those first steps... until they are good and ready.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
The Day The Music Died...
It was a hot and gorgeous day in June and over the Grand Canyon, clouds were building that would eventually become thunder storms. Sometimes you think you know a guy...
Being in a deeply committed relationship at the time, and greatly in love, I was overflowing with the need and the urge to help my friends feel the exact same thing. When they were with me, I'd often strike up conversations with beautiful women, just to get my nerdy friends close to one. It meant nothing to me, after all, to be friendly with other women - I was deeply committed, as you know.
Andy, my best friend in the whole world, and I were just about to sit down to a nice quiet lunch in the cafe. We were going to discuss Proust or Hidegar or perhaps compare and contrast the great works of William Shakespeare with whale song. Just as I was about to ask the lady behind the counter for a three bean salad and a crust of bread, Andy spotted three rather attractive young ladies seated in the cafe. I heard his breath stop up and I had to remind him to breathe.
I'll never forget the next words as long as I live. They were so... cinematic. Andy got this strange glint in his eys and rubbed his hands together and said, "My own... my precious!"
I tried to talk him out of it. I tried to thwart his attempts. But Andy would not be dissuaded. He finally trumped all my logic with the short statement, "Talk to me Goose." What could I do? I was his wingman. And you never leave your wingman.
I went in, knowing what a monumentally bad idea this was, and approached the young ladies. They saw me approach and a look of apprehension crossed their faces. Some people have a face for the movies... I have a face for books.
I said, "Excuse me, ladies." And then, in perfect voice, as if I'd been practicing it my entire life, I started to sing.
There have been great betrayals in history - Benedict Arnold at Valley Forge, the entire German army at Stalingrad, 51% of the population at the 2004 Presidential Election - but this was nowhere near any of those.
"You never close your eyes..."
And suddenly, the words escaped me. At the point when I was supposed to turn around and have Andy start to sing, nothing happened. Andy was nowhere to be seen. I was standing all alone in the center of the cafe, red faced, singing to some girls that I didn't even think were all that attractive while my "friend" was hiding somewhere in the shadows - laughing at me.
I weakly smiled and muttered, "Never mind," and then ran away - the most gracious retreat someone who has just been shot down in burning flames has ever had - a victim of friendly fire.
I found Andy, standing around the corner, unable to breathe because he was laughing so hard. I walked up and gave him a big hug and said, "You stink, bro... But I love you!"
Sometimes, as a story writer, I remember that day and the urge comes over me to recreate that scene in one of my books - thus ridiculing my friend forever. But I always succesfully fight off the urge.
I just haven't written the right kind of story yet.
Being in a deeply committed relationship at the time, and greatly in love, I was overflowing with the need and the urge to help my friends feel the exact same thing. When they were with me, I'd often strike up conversations with beautiful women, just to get my nerdy friends close to one. It meant nothing to me, after all, to be friendly with other women - I was deeply committed, as you know.
Andy, my best friend in the whole world, and I were just about to sit down to a nice quiet lunch in the cafe. We were going to discuss Proust or Hidegar or perhaps compare and contrast the great works of William Shakespeare with whale song. Just as I was about to ask the lady behind the counter for a three bean salad and a crust of bread, Andy spotted three rather attractive young ladies seated in the cafe. I heard his breath stop up and I had to remind him to breathe.
I'll never forget the next words as long as I live. They were so... cinematic. Andy got this strange glint in his eys and rubbed his hands together and said, "My own... my precious!"
I tried to talk him out of it. I tried to thwart his attempts. But Andy would not be dissuaded. He finally trumped all my logic with the short statement, "Talk to me Goose." What could I do? I was his wingman. And you never leave your wingman.
I went in, knowing what a monumentally bad idea this was, and approached the young ladies. They saw me approach and a look of apprehension crossed their faces. Some people have a face for the movies... I have a face for books.
I said, "Excuse me, ladies." And then, in perfect voice, as if I'd been practicing it my entire life, I started to sing.
There have been great betrayals in history - Benedict Arnold at Valley Forge, the entire German army at Stalingrad, 51% of the population at the 2004 Presidential Election - but this was nowhere near any of those.
"You never close your eyes..."
And suddenly, the words escaped me. At the point when I was supposed to turn around and have Andy start to sing, nothing happened. Andy was nowhere to be seen. I was standing all alone in the center of the cafe, red faced, singing to some girls that I didn't even think were all that attractive while my "friend" was hiding somewhere in the shadows - laughing at me.
I weakly smiled and muttered, "Never mind," and then ran away - the most gracious retreat someone who has just been shot down in burning flames has ever had - a victim of friendly fire.
I found Andy, standing around the corner, unable to breathe because he was laughing so hard. I walked up and gave him a big hug and said, "You stink, bro... But I love you!"
Sometimes, as a story writer, I remember that day and the urge comes over me to recreate that scene in one of my books - thus ridiculing my friend forever. But I always succesfully fight off the urge.
I just haven't written the right kind of story yet.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
You Stink! (FWAH! FWAH!)
One of the greatest rock stars of all time, Opus, from Berkeley Breathed's Bloom County had a number one single for a few minutes once in the 1980's called, "You Stink! FWAH! FWAH! But I love you!" It was a rock ballad to, as I recall, a herring. The Fwah! Fwah! by the way, was supposed to be the sound of his honking tuba solo.
I am reminded of this because I spent the first two days of the new year helping a friend move his house. If you've been out of touch for the first two days of this year, you may not realize that this required a great deal of running in between the rain drops in order to stay dry here in California. I was not always succesful and, in fact, was quite drenched before about ten minutes.
We had a good sized crew though and the work took only about eight hours - finishing around 8 o'clock at night when we finally found how to turn the light on in the moving truck to see what it was that we were moving. As the last of the stuff was moved into the new house and we were all sort of basking in the glow of a job well done, my friends mother - who is also a good friend of mine - leaned in and gave me a big hug. It was such an outpouring of love and relief and thanks that I suddenly felt greatly energized and loved.
And then she said, "You stink." I'd just been moving for eight hours through the rain in a rain and sweat soaked hooded sweat top - so there was likely some truth in that. I probably smelled like a rancid yak. But I took the words not as an insult, but as a wonderful compliment - as a golden crown.
The next morning as I finally was able to wash away the sins of the previous day, I reflected on how much her words did not hurt, but actually made me feel better, wanted, loved. And I knew that this was surely the way God loves us - embracing us, making us feel warm and loved, and then, oh by the way, you stink.
Yes, Lord. I stink. I've done some awful things and the stench of it is all over me. Sometimes, in the course of things, that just happens. But I'm not going to make excuses for it. I'm going to go and wash it off. And I know that you'll still love me, because even when I stink, you hug me and love me.
Of course, God would be more hip if he did it with a tuba solo... but I'm not complaining. :)
Happy New Year all!
I am reminded of this because I spent the first two days of the new year helping a friend move his house. If you've been out of touch for the first two days of this year, you may not realize that this required a great deal of running in between the rain drops in order to stay dry here in California. I was not always succesful and, in fact, was quite drenched before about ten minutes.
We had a good sized crew though and the work took only about eight hours - finishing around 8 o'clock at night when we finally found how to turn the light on in the moving truck to see what it was that we were moving. As the last of the stuff was moved into the new house and we were all sort of basking in the glow of a job well done, my friends mother - who is also a good friend of mine - leaned in and gave me a big hug. It was such an outpouring of love and relief and thanks that I suddenly felt greatly energized and loved.
And then she said, "You stink." I'd just been moving for eight hours through the rain in a rain and sweat soaked hooded sweat top - so there was likely some truth in that. I probably smelled like a rancid yak. But I took the words not as an insult, but as a wonderful compliment - as a golden crown.
The next morning as I finally was able to wash away the sins of the previous day, I reflected on how much her words did not hurt, but actually made me feel better, wanted, loved. And I knew that this was surely the way God loves us - embracing us, making us feel warm and loved, and then, oh by the way, you stink.
Yes, Lord. I stink. I've done some awful things and the stench of it is all over me. Sometimes, in the course of things, that just happens. But I'm not going to make excuses for it. I'm going to go and wash it off. And I know that you'll still love me, because even when I stink, you hug me and love me.
Of course, God would be more hip if he did it with a tuba solo... but I'm not complaining. :)
Happy New Year all!
Thursday, December 29, 2005
God Is Love
When I was young, I did not understand love. Though I received it freely, I did not know how to return it, except instinctually - a smile, a hug, a thank you, a song, a dance. But love requires effort, not non-challance, and dies quickly of neglect.
When I was on the verge of manhood, I did not understand love. Though I enjoyed its many rewards, I also dabbled in its many sins - anger, jealousy, fear, pride. But love requires patience, wisdom, and understanding, and I was still a child.
When I had traveled the world and explored its wonders, I did not understand love. Though I watched others fall in love, commit to love, and bring love into the world, I did not know how to join them - I dated, I failed, I longed for a lasting companion. But love requires community, not independence, and I was unwilling to settle down.
Now that I am old enough to understand love, I still do not have love. Though I struggle to give it freely, I have not found many to accept. Though I have been patient, understanding, and sought wisdom, I do not have anyone with which to share what I have learned. Though I have settled down in a community of faith, I have not found a true companion. For all my wasted years and efforts have taught me the most important lesson of all. Love comes from God. It is His most sought after and treasured gift to us all. And we squander it at our own peril.
I gave over my heart to God, right after I finished cursing and swearing at the driver in front of me for going to slow.
The car in front of me was nothing more than a stone in the road, an obstacle to be avoided and passed at the earliest convenience. I wasn't in any particular hurry, mind you, but I didn't want to be stuck behind the stone all the same. This object was bothering me. So I cursed him and swore at him and thought all sorts of terrible things about him and his parentage.
We have this urinal at work that I hate to use, but occassionally I forget and use anyway. Its at such a height and angle that as you're taking a piss, it splatters. You can feel your own piss landing on you, but its too late to do anything about it but feel disgusting and unclean. When I sin, it too, has a tendency to splatter. After cursing this thing that was making my life inconvenient, I suddenly felt disgusting and unclean.
Right there, in the car, at that very moment, I prayed to God, "Lord, please make me a better person. Open my heart up to my fellow human beings and to you. Allow me to feel love again."
This was only two or three weeks ago. At first, it was a mighty struggle. I'd been so used to driving around obstacles for so long and cursing the ones who deigned to want to share the road with me that I was constantly feeling God's hand gently guiding me back to the right road - the one with all my fellow travelers. It wasn't that I slowed down, so much, as that I suddenly didn't mind slowing down if I had to let someone in front of me.
I'd like to say the transformation was instantaneous and that I am a much more courteous and happy driver on the road, but, that doesn't happen in reality. Let's just say its a work in progress.
But as I drove to work more peacefully than I could remember in years, I also began to notice other things happening - a confluence of events that could not be mere coincidence.
I began to remember with joy the years I'd spent as peacemaker in my family - not taking sides, but actively working to prevent sides from being formed. I remembered that when I was younger that I'd thought I'd had some talent at that sort of negotiation and that I felt learning to be a family peacemaker had taught me a great deal about human nature, which I used to great effect in my writing. Though there isn't any great crisis in my life, I found myself beginning to use my peacemaking skills again - dusting them off and shaking loose the cobwebs.
I found more enjoyment in my reading of the psalms. I found great thrills reading each other's blogs. I looked forward to spending time with friends and family. I embraced Christmas as a holiday to enjoy, not as an ordeal to rush through. I worried more. I prayed more. I contemplated more. I felt more alive.
I also began to realize other things. I began to realize that I had been holding God responsible for many of my own failings. I'd actually been ridiculous enough to think things like, "If God doesn't want me to eat this cheeseburger, he'll send me a sign." And I knew that I'd been treating God like a cosmic Ouija board. But I didn't know what to do about it.
Before I even knew how to ask the question, I had the answer to my prayer. That's been happening a lot lately too.
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. I stopped treating God as a crutch and started treating Him as a friend. Don't do it for me, God, but help me to do it. Help me to be reminded of what it is that I'm trying to accomplish. Don't catch me a fish, teach me to be a fisherman.
I started to suspect that there was more to the Bible than I was reading into it - that perhaps the true strength of this book was not of the Do This, Do That variety - but of the love behind the Do This and Do That - the wisdom of God, more so than the instruction.
And that was when Andy gave me the present of Donald Miller's, "Searching For God Knows What?" for Christmas. I had thoroughly enjoyed Blue Like Jazz and found it to be an interesting gateway into Biblical thought - not the authority figures of Chesterton or C.S. Lewis, but a schmoe from Portland who had grown up a lot like Andy and I. Here was a way into Christian thinking that didn't require a PHD. Here was someone I could understand. But what I didn't realize was that Donald Miller was also working for God.
His book's first four or five chapters were all about - A) Not using God as a wish fulfiller. B) The hidden language of Love in the Bible. And C)Finding community in both our relationship with God and with each other. Here was a perfect synthesis of exactly what I'd been experiencing and feeling for the past three weeks, already written out, and already published - waiting for me to stumble upon.
St. Augustine once said that he'd looked back over his life and saw a pattern develop. Again and again, God had intervened and guided his path. I don't even question this passage anymore. God clearly walks beside me where ever I go.
Despite Donald Miller's assertion that the Bible is not a source for simple formulas, I had a thought a while back, when I first started writing this blog, that you could apply the Mathematical Transitive Formula to the Bible and come up with the following result that would tell you exactly what God is like. So, let's give it a try...
According to the transitivie property of Mathematics, If A=B and B=C, then A=C. Using that formula, let's start with, God is Love 1 John 4:16, and take it as God = Love. And then apply that thought to 1st Corinthians 13:1-8. Wherever you read the word Love, here, replace it with the word God.
Okay... you might need to change the word It to God as well. Its an over simplification, of course. God is all these things and so much more. We can not begin to fathom God.
But all this thought of love got me to thinking about what it was that I had been doing wrong - about how I might truly attain the thing I most sought. If God is love, and He is the greatest thing ever, then the best way to emulate God, the best way to be like God, is to be love.
To live a life of love. To live a life in love. To live a life to love. To take the I out of live, and replace it with an O. There should be no I in live. It should be replaced with the circle which represents unending, ceaseless, infinity. To take the I out of love.
If I have not found someone to love, it is because I have not been ready until now. I am ready to love. I am ready to give and to receive love. I am ready to embrace love. I am ready to be love. I will not be afraid, for the Lord is with me. What can man do to me?
As you head out into your New Year's celebrations, I want you to do one thing for me. Please ask God to open your heart and help you learn to love. None of us will be perfect. Many of us, myself included, will take a long time to get the basic concepts. But the rewards will far outweigh the struggles. Let us all live a life of love. We can not fail for the Lord is with us.
God bless you all, and have a Happy New Year.
When I was on the verge of manhood, I did not understand love. Though I enjoyed its many rewards, I also dabbled in its many sins - anger, jealousy, fear, pride. But love requires patience, wisdom, and understanding, and I was still a child.
When I had traveled the world and explored its wonders, I did not understand love. Though I watched others fall in love, commit to love, and bring love into the world, I did not know how to join them - I dated, I failed, I longed for a lasting companion. But love requires community, not independence, and I was unwilling to settle down.
Now that I am old enough to understand love, I still do not have love. Though I struggle to give it freely, I have not found many to accept. Though I have been patient, understanding, and sought wisdom, I do not have anyone with which to share what I have learned. Though I have settled down in a community of faith, I have not found a true companion. For all my wasted years and efforts have taught me the most important lesson of all. Love comes from God. It is His most sought after and treasured gift to us all. And we squander it at our own peril.
I gave over my heart to God, right after I finished cursing and swearing at the driver in front of me for going to slow.
The car in front of me was nothing more than a stone in the road, an obstacle to be avoided and passed at the earliest convenience. I wasn't in any particular hurry, mind you, but I didn't want to be stuck behind the stone all the same. This object was bothering me. So I cursed him and swore at him and thought all sorts of terrible things about him and his parentage.
We have this urinal at work that I hate to use, but occassionally I forget and use anyway. Its at such a height and angle that as you're taking a piss, it splatters. You can feel your own piss landing on you, but its too late to do anything about it but feel disgusting and unclean. When I sin, it too, has a tendency to splatter. After cursing this thing that was making my life inconvenient, I suddenly felt disgusting and unclean.
Right there, in the car, at that very moment, I prayed to God, "Lord, please make me a better person. Open my heart up to my fellow human beings and to you. Allow me to feel love again."
This was only two or three weeks ago. At first, it was a mighty struggle. I'd been so used to driving around obstacles for so long and cursing the ones who deigned to want to share the road with me that I was constantly feeling God's hand gently guiding me back to the right road - the one with all my fellow travelers. It wasn't that I slowed down, so much, as that I suddenly didn't mind slowing down if I had to let someone in front of me.
I'd like to say the transformation was instantaneous and that I am a much more courteous and happy driver on the road, but, that doesn't happen in reality. Let's just say its a work in progress.
But as I drove to work more peacefully than I could remember in years, I also began to notice other things happening - a confluence of events that could not be mere coincidence.
I began to remember with joy the years I'd spent as peacemaker in my family - not taking sides, but actively working to prevent sides from being formed. I remembered that when I was younger that I'd thought I'd had some talent at that sort of negotiation and that I felt learning to be a family peacemaker had taught me a great deal about human nature, which I used to great effect in my writing. Though there isn't any great crisis in my life, I found myself beginning to use my peacemaking skills again - dusting them off and shaking loose the cobwebs.
I found more enjoyment in my reading of the psalms. I found great thrills reading each other's blogs. I looked forward to spending time with friends and family. I embraced Christmas as a holiday to enjoy, not as an ordeal to rush through. I worried more. I prayed more. I contemplated more. I felt more alive.
I also began to realize other things. I began to realize that I had been holding God responsible for many of my own failings. I'd actually been ridiculous enough to think things like, "If God doesn't want me to eat this cheeseburger, he'll send me a sign." And I knew that I'd been treating God like a cosmic Ouija board. But I didn't know what to do about it.
Before I even knew how to ask the question, I had the answer to my prayer. That's been happening a lot lately too.
Psalm 118:5-6
5 In my anguish I cried to the LORD,
and he answered by setting me free.
6 The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid.
What can man do to me?
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. I stopped treating God as a crutch and started treating Him as a friend. Don't do it for me, God, but help me to do it. Help me to be reminded of what it is that I'm trying to accomplish. Don't catch me a fish, teach me to be a fisherman.
I started to suspect that there was more to the Bible than I was reading into it - that perhaps the true strength of this book was not of the Do This, Do That variety - but of the love behind the Do This and Do That - the wisdom of God, more so than the instruction.
And that was when Andy gave me the present of Donald Miller's, "Searching For God Knows What?" for Christmas. I had thoroughly enjoyed Blue Like Jazz and found it to be an interesting gateway into Biblical thought - not the authority figures of Chesterton or C.S. Lewis, but a schmoe from Portland who had grown up a lot like Andy and I. Here was a way into Christian thinking that didn't require a PHD. Here was someone I could understand. But what I didn't realize was that Donald Miller was also working for God.
His book's first four or five chapters were all about - A) Not using God as a wish fulfiller. B) The hidden language of Love in the Bible. And C)Finding community in both our relationship with God and with each other. Here was a perfect synthesis of exactly what I'd been experiencing and feeling for the past three weeks, already written out, and already published - waiting for me to stumble upon.
St. Augustine once said that he'd looked back over his life and saw a pattern develop. Again and again, God had intervened and guided his path. I don't even question this passage anymore. God clearly walks beside me where ever I go.
Despite Donald Miller's assertion that the Bible is not a source for simple formulas, I had a thought a while back, when I first started writing this blog, that you could apply the Mathematical Transitive Formula to the Bible and come up with the following result that would tell you exactly what God is like. So, let's give it a try...
According to the transitivie property of Mathematics, If A=B and B=C, then A=C. Using that formula, let's start with, God is Love 1 John 4:16, and take it as God = Love. And then apply that thought to 1st Corinthians 13:1-8. Wherever you read the word Love, here, replace it with the word God.
1If I speak in the tongues[a] of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,[b] but have not love, I gain nothing.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8Love never fails...
Okay... you might need to change the word It to God as well. Its an over simplification, of course. God is all these things and so much more. We can not begin to fathom God.
But all this thought of love got me to thinking about what it was that I had been doing wrong - about how I might truly attain the thing I most sought. If God is love, and He is the greatest thing ever, then the best way to emulate God, the best way to be like God, is to be love.
To live a life of love. To live a life in love. To live a life to love. To take the I out of live, and replace it with an O. There should be no I in live. It should be replaced with the circle which represents unending, ceaseless, infinity. To take the I out of love.
If I have not found someone to love, it is because I have not been ready until now. I am ready to love. I am ready to give and to receive love. I am ready to embrace love. I am ready to be love. I will not be afraid, for the Lord is with me. What can man do to me?
As you head out into your New Year's celebrations, I want you to do one thing for me. Please ask God to open your heart and help you learn to love. None of us will be perfect. Many of us, myself included, will take a long time to get the basic concepts. But the rewards will far outweigh the struggles. Let us all live a life of love. We can not fail for the Lord is with us.
God bless you all, and have a Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
I AM NOT A CLANGING GONG! WOOHOO!
I've just had an epiphany! I am not a clanging gong! This is very important to me.
I've been worrying lately that I do not have enough love in my heart. Its been a bunch of subtle things - stress over the holidays and such - but I've honestly been wondering if I had some sort of love block, preventing me from loving as I should. Well, I just got my answer.
I was reading Elisa's excellent blog where in she wondered whether her friends and family were going to Heaven and whether she was going to Heaven - very guilty Catholic kind of thinking. I wrote her a response and then I went back to work. While I was working on mind numbing number crunching, my mind started to wander. I was especially moved about her question of whether her brother had gone to Heaven. I wanted to just reach out to her, hold her in my arms, and tell her - "Yes, your brother is in Heaven. You can rest easy tonight. God is a great and merciful God and He loves us." And I was angry with her "friends" for telling her that she was going to Hell because she belonged to such and such church. I wanted to tell Elisa, "No, you're not going to hell because you belong to such and such church. God doesn't work like that." But then it occurred to me... I don't know a damn thing about any of that. Who am I to say these things? How the heck should I know any of this?
And that was when the epiphany hit me. I realized that the knowledge I had about these things was coming from my heart - not my head. There was no amount of book reading or blog reading or burning bushes that I could read or hear that could tell me the truth of what was already in my heart. God wrote his new covenant on our hearts. And it was at that moment that I knew I didn't have to be a scholar to say what I was saying because it was coming from my heart and was being said in Love.
I don't remember the actual words from 13 Corinthians and I'm totally hopeless about finding Bible verses on the web, but to paraphrase for my own purposes, "If I speak of Heaven, but have not love, I am nothing but a clanging gong!" I have love. I realize that now. I am not love deficient. I am not love blocked. I am not love intolerant. And I know what I am talking about, because I have love!
WHOOOEEEEE! God is truly great and magnificent! All praise to God!
I've been worrying lately that I do not have enough love in my heart. Its been a bunch of subtle things - stress over the holidays and such - but I've honestly been wondering if I had some sort of love block, preventing me from loving as I should. Well, I just got my answer.
I was reading Elisa's excellent blog where in she wondered whether her friends and family were going to Heaven and whether she was going to Heaven - very guilty Catholic kind of thinking. I wrote her a response and then I went back to work. While I was working on mind numbing number crunching, my mind started to wander. I was especially moved about her question of whether her brother had gone to Heaven. I wanted to just reach out to her, hold her in my arms, and tell her - "Yes, your brother is in Heaven. You can rest easy tonight. God is a great and merciful God and He loves us." And I was angry with her "friends" for telling her that she was going to Hell because she belonged to such and such church. I wanted to tell Elisa, "No, you're not going to hell because you belong to such and such church. God doesn't work like that." But then it occurred to me... I don't know a damn thing about any of that. Who am I to say these things? How the heck should I know any of this?
And that was when the epiphany hit me. I realized that the knowledge I had about these things was coming from my heart - not my head. There was no amount of book reading or blog reading or burning bushes that I could read or hear that could tell me the truth of what was already in my heart. God wrote his new covenant on our hearts. And it was at that moment that I knew I didn't have to be a scholar to say what I was saying because it was coming from my heart and was being said in Love.
I don't remember the actual words from 13 Corinthians and I'm totally hopeless about finding Bible verses on the web, but to paraphrase for my own purposes, "If I speak of Heaven, but have not love, I am nothing but a clanging gong!" I have love. I realize that now. I am not love deficient. I am not love blocked. I am not love intolerant. And I know what I am talking about, because I have love!
WHOOOEEEEE! God is truly great and magnificent! All praise to God!
It's Official! We have a ghost!
I'm not inclined to spread hoaxes, but this one was too weird to pass up.
Yesterday, my co-worker came rushing down the hallway all flustered and read faced. She'd been all alone in the back room working on a project when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a figure of a woman in a white wedding type dress descending the steps into the room, and then it just vanished. She would not go back into the room the rest of the day.
I don't know what she actually saw to make her think it was a ghost, but I know some people who swear to have encountered ghosts before (Heather!). This person was not the type to make up a story like that, so I gotta believe that she believes what she saw.
Now that's not the official confirmation part.
Last night, after everyone had gone home except the janitor, the President of the company and his brother were talking to each other about the story that my co-worker had told. Skeptical, they went into the room and started looking around for something that might have cast a reflection or made her think that there was a ghost. While they were looking, someone began rattling the outside door (next to the staircase). Thinking they'd accidentally locked the janitor out of the building, they rushed to the door and pushed it open. Nobody was there. The Janitor was in the front of the building at the time. This story was confirmed by all three participants.
So, it looks as if we've picked up a hitchhiking ghost just in time for the new year. I don't care what anyone says, I know that's good luck. As poor as this company has been doing the last couple of years with the downturned economy, it just goes to show us that our spirit is alive and well and rattling the doors of opportunity.
Looking forward to 2006. May you all have a Happy New Year.
Yesterday, my co-worker came rushing down the hallway all flustered and read faced. She'd been all alone in the back room working on a project when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a figure of a woman in a white wedding type dress descending the steps into the room, and then it just vanished. She would not go back into the room the rest of the day.
I don't know what she actually saw to make her think it was a ghost, but I know some people who swear to have encountered ghosts before (Heather!). This person was not the type to make up a story like that, so I gotta believe that she believes what she saw.
Now that's not the official confirmation part.
Last night, after everyone had gone home except the janitor, the President of the company and his brother were talking to each other about the story that my co-worker had told. Skeptical, they went into the room and started looking around for something that might have cast a reflection or made her think that there was a ghost. While they were looking, someone began rattling the outside door (next to the staircase). Thinking they'd accidentally locked the janitor out of the building, they rushed to the door and pushed it open. Nobody was there. The Janitor was in the front of the building at the time. This story was confirmed by all three participants.
So, it looks as if we've picked up a hitchhiking ghost just in time for the new year. I don't care what anyone says, I know that's good luck. As poor as this company has been doing the last couple of years with the downturned economy, it just goes to show us that our spirit is alive and well and rattling the doors of opportunity.
Looking forward to 2006. May you all have a Happy New Year.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
"I Do Not Believe In God!"
Donald Miller ends the second chapter of his book, "Searching For God Know's What," with this pronouncement and it was the last thing I read before going to bed. I tossed and turned all last night after reading this terrible sentence. I'm hoping the book gets better after this, or else its going to be a very short book in terms of a Christian Message (Searching For God Know's What - a new book about Christian Spirituality from someone who doesn't believe in God ;)
The passage in the book equates belief in God to belief in Santa - that many of us have Christianity stamped on us like children have Santa stamped on us. Eventually we grow older and stop believing because God was never a real construct for us. While I debated posting yesterday's blog about Reality vs. Fiction, this second chapter was really making my point for me and I realized that I needed to post the blog so that everyone could understand my further discussions of this book.
In my College English term paper entitled, "The Arm Chair Diety," I argued that people write to change the world. It is my firm belief that we humans try to emulate the real world in our arts by creating an idealized version of it. The daily drives and tediums of reality can never be fully captured in the arts because, quite frankly, who would want to capture it? No matter how good the play, the movie, the book, the poem, the painting, etc... it can not capture the minute by minute experience of daily life. We don't go to a movie to watch two hours of a character's life - to see them walk around thinking inane thoughts, sit at their computer and type their daily blog, go to the bathroom, wash their hands, contemplate lunch, make phone calls, scratch themselves, etc... It would be boring and pointless. We emulate the real world in such a way that we can skip all that in-between stuff and get straight to the point - love is good, evil is bad, heroes thrive, villians die, etc... Thus showing the world the way we want it to be, not the way it is. But in doing so, we also show the world the way it needs to go, or warn it against going a certain way.
Writing has greatly affected the world. The Bible has had a lasting impact on generation after generation. Mein Kampf led the world into unspeakable horrors. Shakespeare continues to enlighten and enthrall.
A good writer can lead us into places we do not want to contemplate. I was thinking about this after reading Miller's above passage. I have certain things that I simply refuse to contemplate. I just know I'm not strong enough to resist the intellectual urge and I'm afraid that once I start down that path of discovery, I will never be able to find my way back to safe, normal thinking. The first, and foremost, is What if there isn't a God? Not going there. Don't need to. The second, and almost as scary, is For what would I sell my soul? Again, not going there. Don't need to. Don't want to. I'm afraid that just contemplating such a question may create a pact between you and the Devil. As if the question is just floating out there, an unsigned contract, and mere contemplation and decision would seal the deal. Hell no! Not me! And finally, I never contemplate suicide. There's just bad karma waiting around the bend on that one. Donald Miller is making me confront that first question... and I don't like it... but I'm sticking with it for now.
Am I stuck in some sort of adolescent stage as a result? Is my unwillingness to challenge my own belief in God mean that I am clinging to some Santa Claus ideal of God - some wish fulfillment fantasy? I don't think so. I am old enough to know now that God has some better things planned for me, but in terms of denseness, I make the original disciples look like super geniuses. God keeps having to beat my head against the wall to get me to learn anything ;) Or, rather, I should say, I keep beating my head against the wall and God continues to say, "Will, there is a better way, if you'd just listen to me."
Anyway, I look forward to chapter three where I'd better read these words, "Not believing in God wasn't a great idea..." or Donald Miller will have some serious explaining to do. And so will Andy for that matter... ;)
The passage in the book equates belief in God to belief in Santa - that many of us have Christianity stamped on us like children have Santa stamped on us. Eventually we grow older and stop believing because God was never a real construct for us. While I debated posting yesterday's blog about Reality vs. Fiction, this second chapter was really making my point for me and I realized that I needed to post the blog so that everyone could understand my further discussions of this book.
In my College English term paper entitled, "The Arm Chair Diety," I argued that people write to change the world. It is my firm belief that we humans try to emulate the real world in our arts by creating an idealized version of it. The daily drives and tediums of reality can never be fully captured in the arts because, quite frankly, who would want to capture it? No matter how good the play, the movie, the book, the poem, the painting, etc... it can not capture the minute by minute experience of daily life. We don't go to a movie to watch two hours of a character's life - to see them walk around thinking inane thoughts, sit at their computer and type their daily blog, go to the bathroom, wash their hands, contemplate lunch, make phone calls, scratch themselves, etc... It would be boring and pointless. We emulate the real world in such a way that we can skip all that in-between stuff and get straight to the point - love is good, evil is bad, heroes thrive, villians die, etc... Thus showing the world the way we want it to be, not the way it is. But in doing so, we also show the world the way it needs to go, or warn it against going a certain way.
Writing has greatly affected the world. The Bible has had a lasting impact on generation after generation. Mein Kampf led the world into unspeakable horrors. Shakespeare continues to enlighten and enthrall.
A good writer can lead us into places we do not want to contemplate. I was thinking about this after reading Miller's above passage. I have certain things that I simply refuse to contemplate. I just know I'm not strong enough to resist the intellectual urge and I'm afraid that once I start down that path of discovery, I will never be able to find my way back to safe, normal thinking. The first, and foremost, is What if there isn't a God? Not going there. Don't need to. The second, and almost as scary, is For what would I sell my soul? Again, not going there. Don't need to. Don't want to. I'm afraid that just contemplating such a question may create a pact between you and the Devil. As if the question is just floating out there, an unsigned contract, and mere contemplation and decision would seal the deal. Hell no! Not me! And finally, I never contemplate suicide. There's just bad karma waiting around the bend on that one. Donald Miller is making me confront that first question... and I don't like it... but I'm sticking with it for now.
Am I stuck in some sort of adolescent stage as a result? Is my unwillingness to challenge my own belief in God mean that I am clinging to some Santa Claus ideal of God - some wish fulfillment fantasy? I don't think so. I am old enough to know now that God has some better things planned for me, but in terms of denseness, I make the original disciples look like super geniuses. God keeps having to beat my head against the wall to get me to learn anything ;) Or, rather, I should say, I keep beating my head against the wall and God continues to say, "Will, there is a better way, if you'd just listen to me."
Anyway, I look forward to chapter three where I'd better read these words, "Not believing in God wasn't a great idea..." or Donald Miller will have some serious explaining to do. And so will Andy for that matter... ;)
Monday, December 26, 2005
Reality sucks!
My thanks to Andy who gave me two new Donald Miller books for Christmas. I waded into "Searching For God Knows What" last night and came away with the following lesson, "Reality is like wine. Children don't appreciate it." The rest of the first chapter expresses Miller's attempts to write a story about Christianity and looking for a formula and discovering that there is no formula to reality. That's the gist of it, anyway - I was starting to feel that Triptofan buzz when I read it.
My mind travels down strange paths. It always has. But for the longest time, I've known that my body can not travel where my mind goes. Reality and fantasy have become two very real worlds for me. I like to live in the latter, even while forced to live in the former. Most of who I am, most of what I want to be, is in the fantasy world. I've often felt that there ought to be a way to make the two worlds one.
"Harry Potter suceeds because it is a case of wish fulfillment," said a recent critic of the best selling books on the planet. But I really wonder, how much of that is true? You read Harry Potter, and maybe it brings you joy and pleasure for a few hours, or if you're a slow reader like me, a few days, but eventually you have to return to the world of reality. At most, you are only a visitor - and an unwanted guest at that.
But how much more so is that the case of The Bible? On its surface, it is a story of a man who claims to be the son of the one holy ruler of everything - a being so powerful as to be omnipotent - who comes to Earth to save us all from Satan's power, when we have gone astray... Oh, Tidings of Comfort and Joy... Oops, sorry, still in Christmas mode. I mean the Jews had been wishing for a Messiah all their lives, and voila, there He was. Wish fulfillment, right? Now here was a Messiah who could heal the sick, feed the hungry, toss out demons, give sight to the poor, and asked nothing in return except faith. The son of a God who had liberated his people from the all powerful Egypt by sending plagues on Pharoah and drowning his army in the parted Red Sea had come for us. Total wish fulfillment. Snap his fingers, if he wanted, and you could have anything your heart desired.
Only, of course, there was a snag. Harry has to face death and dismemberment every year. God's people don't believe in him no matter what he does. Jesus had to die on a cross in order for us to be saved. Hardly what I'd call wish fulfillment.
It seems that even wish fulfillment can not escape the adult pleasures of reality. It seems that those who seek fantasy and have some measure of success attaining it, only delay the arrival of reality. We all want the fantasy. None of us want the reality attached to it.
I write because I want to live in a fantasy world. But as a writer I am cognizant of one important rule about every story - it has a beginning, middle, and an end. The fantasy world stops and the real world returns. Wish fulfillment is just an escape. But it is an important escape because it shows us, however briefly, the kind of world we want to live in - the kind of reality we want to experience. Whether it be casting spells with our friends or living in community with Jesus, it will always remain a fantasy until we make it a reality.
If fantasy is great, and reality sucks, then I want to make my reality more like my fantasy. And that is why you can not abandon fantasy and experience only reality. Without fantasy, reality has no direction.
My mind travels down strange paths. It always has. But for the longest time, I've known that my body can not travel where my mind goes. Reality and fantasy have become two very real worlds for me. I like to live in the latter, even while forced to live in the former. Most of who I am, most of what I want to be, is in the fantasy world. I've often felt that there ought to be a way to make the two worlds one.
"Harry Potter suceeds because it is a case of wish fulfillment," said a recent critic of the best selling books on the planet. But I really wonder, how much of that is true? You read Harry Potter, and maybe it brings you joy and pleasure for a few hours, or if you're a slow reader like me, a few days, but eventually you have to return to the world of reality. At most, you are only a visitor - and an unwanted guest at that.
But how much more so is that the case of The Bible? On its surface, it is a story of a man who claims to be the son of the one holy ruler of everything - a being so powerful as to be omnipotent - who comes to Earth to save us all from Satan's power, when we have gone astray... Oh, Tidings of Comfort and Joy... Oops, sorry, still in Christmas mode. I mean the Jews had been wishing for a Messiah all their lives, and voila, there He was. Wish fulfillment, right? Now here was a Messiah who could heal the sick, feed the hungry, toss out demons, give sight to the poor, and asked nothing in return except faith. The son of a God who had liberated his people from the all powerful Egypt by sending plagues on Pharoah and drowning his army in the parted Red Sea had come for us. Total wish fulfillment. Snap his fingers, if he wanted, and you could have anything your heart desired.
Only, of course, there was a snag. Harry has to face death and dismemberment every year. God's people don't believe in him no matter what he does. Jesus had to die on a cross in order for us to be saved. Hardly what I'd call wish fulfillment.
It seems that even wish fulfillment can not escape the adult pleasures of reality. It seems that those who seek fantasy and have some measure of success attaining it, only delay the arrival of reality. We all want the fantasy. None of us want the reality attached to it.
I write because I want to live in a fantasy world. But as a writer I am cognizant of one important rule about every story - it has a beginning, middle, and an end. The fantasy world stops and the real world returns. Wish fulfillment is just an escape. But it is an important escape because it shows us, however briefly, the kind of world we want to live in - the kind of reality we want to experience. Whether it be casting spells with our friends or living in community with Jesus, it will always remain a fantasy until we make it a reality.
If fantasy is great, and reality sucks, then I want to make my reality more like my fantasy. And that is why you can not abandon fantasy and experience only reality. Without fantasy, reality has no direction.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Hark! The Herald...
Angels sing...
Glory to the newborn king.
I'll leave you with that. Finish the song on your own. You know you want to.
Merry Christmas to all! Goodwill and Peace On Earth To All Mankind!
Glory to the newborn king.
I'll leave you with that. Finish the song on your own. You know you want to.
Merry Christmas to all! Goodwill and Peace On Earth To All Mankind!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Nature vs. Nurture
Not to be outdone by my partners in last night's movie going experience, I too had some thoughts on King Kong. Though, really, relating King Kong to sin was pure genius.
My thoughts are much more mundane, human, and perhaps morbid. After all, they came to me in the shower this morning - my own private little creative laboratory where my body goes on neutral under the warm flow of water and my mind is given free reign to come up with some of the bizarrest thoughts of my life. This one was no exception.
Having seen The Chronicles of Narnia on Monday, and King Kong on Tuesday, the thought occured to me about what sort of havoc Kong would wreak in Narnia. Kong, as Peter Jackson envisions him, is just pure raw nature - destructive as an earthquake, dangerous as a forest fire, and yet, tender as new fallen snow. Nature, in all its power and glory, unleashed on mankind. In its own environment, it rules. In proximity to humans, it is deadly. Narnia, on the other hand, is an allegory for the Christian story and is meant to symbolize some sort of Christian kingdom. It is ruled over by a lion, by the name of Aslan, who sacrifices himself to save the entire kingdom though he is pure and innocent.
Right off the bat, come on - Giant Ape that can defeat several dinosaurs at once versus a lion. No contest. The Ape would smash the lion and rip its head off. (Like I said, morbid ;) But this is no ordinary contest. The lion has the deck stacked in its favor. For though Kong represents all of nature - nature at is most wild, spectacular and dangerous - the King of the whole natural world, King Kong would kneel before the lion - not for fear of losing its life, but for the hope of gaining it.
If King Kong would bow before the lion, shouldn't we as well?
My thoughts are much more mundane, human, and perhaps morbid. After all, they came to me in the shower this morning - my own private little creative laboratory where my body goes on neutral under the warm flow of water and my mind is given free reign to come up with some of the bizarrest thoughts of my life. This one was no exception.
Having seen The Chronicles of Narnia on Monday, and King Kong on Tuesday, the thought occured to me about what sort of havoc Kong would wreak in Narnia. Kong, as Peter Jackson envisions him, is just pure raw nature - destructive as an earthquake, dangerous as a forest fire, and yet, tender as new fallen snow. Nature, in all its power and glory, unleashed on mankind. In its own environment, it rules. In proximity to humans, it is deadly. Narnia, on the other hand, is an allegory for the Christian story and is meant to symbolize some sort of Christian kingdom. It is ruled over by a lion, by the name of Aslan, who sacrifices himself to save the entire kingdom though he is pure and innocent.
Right off the bat, come on - Giant Ape that can defeat several dinosaurs at once versus a lion. No contest. The Ape would smash the lion and rip its head off. (Like I said, morbid ;) But this is no ordinary contest. The lion has the deck stacked in its favor. For though Kong represents all of nature - nature at is most wild, spectacular and dangerous - the King of the whole natural world, King Kong would kneel before the lion - not for fear of losing its life, but for the hope of gaining it.
If King Kong would bow before the lion, shouldn't we as well?
Monday, December 19, 2005
Monday's More Important Things...
And now for some more important things...
There's an online petition to strongly suggest to SBC/AT & T to rename SBC Park/Pac Bell Park home of the San Francisco Giants, Willie Mays Field. Please support this noble effort by clicking here and signing up.
Kudos to Time Magazine for naming Bono of the rock group, U2, and Bill and Melinda Gates co-people of the year for their tireless efforts to end world poverty and hunger. If you haven't already joined, please click here to join the One Campaign. For just the price of your signature, we can pressure the governments of the world to do something good for all mankind for a change.
So Willie Mays Field and the End of Poverty and Hunger in one blog... that must be some sort of record... ;)
There's an online petition to strongly suggest to SBC/AT & T to rename SBC Park/Pac Bell Park home of the San Francisco Giants, Willie Mays Field. Please support this noble effort by clicking here and signing up.
Kudos to Time Magazine for naming Bono of the rock group, U2, and Bill and Melinda Gates co-people of the year for their tireless efforts to end world poverty and hunger. If you haven't already joined, please click here to join the One Campaign. For just the price of your signature, we can pressure the governments of the world to do something good for all mankind for a change.
So Willie Mays Field and the End of Poverty and Hunger in one blog... that must be some sort of record... ;)
Silence is Golden?
Ariel posted this, "Inaudible Answers to Prayer" in which he quotes the following from Oswald Chambers:
"If God is taking us into the understanding that prayer is for the glorifying of His Father, He will give us the first sign of His intimacy—silence. The devil calls it unanswered prayer."
Ariel has posted a Blogger Limelight challenge to respond to this quote. He asks:
"What do you make of Chambers' statement? Do you violently disagree? Or does his assertion contain some truth? If so, how much—a few grains, or a whole sackful? At the bottom of this is the question of what we actually should expect, experientially, when we pray to God the Father."
(God, I love cut and paste... thank you Andy for typing up this first part... saved me a lot of time... ;)
I think this whole assertion rests on the very first part of that statement. IF GOD IS TAKING US INTO THE UNDERSTANDING THAT PRAYER IS FOR THE GLORIFYING OF HIS FATHER... Okay, maybe I missed that message somewhere. Or maybe God and I aren't that intimate. I don't recognize that understanding yet. Prayer, I think, can take many different forms. It can be spoken aloud - publicly, and en masse. It can be intimate - spoken in a quiet moment when no one else is around. It can be a feeling - a communion between your soul and the soul of God that doesn't even require words. It can be done in song, or poem, or chant. Sometimes it is used to thank God for the many blessings we have achieved. Sometimes it is to ask God for His help or His understanding. Sometimes, and let's be honest, its to ask God, why? And sometimes, it is to praise God. In a sort of metaphysical sense, to pray is to glorify God by recognizing that He is your sovereign Lord and savior and that He is the one you need to approach with your heart, mind, and soul. But the act of prayer, itself, is not always meant as a glorification of the Lord Most High.
As to the second part of this phrase, that He will answer us with the intimacy of silence, my first and honest response to this is... Poppycock! It'd be some answer to anyone's innocent question about whether God hears our prayers if we were to answer, "If you're doing it right, God will answer you with silence." And if we're doing it wrong? "You'll hear nothing." Uh... isn't that the same answer? The better way of phrasing this, I think, is to say that if you are still and calm and silent, you will hear God's answer, though probably not audibly. In other words, His silence speaks volumes.
And yes, the Devil would want people to think that not hearing a voice from the clouds that sounds like James Earl Jones means that God's not listening and not answering us, I doubt that the Devil would have to work that hard if we told new parishioners that God answers us with silence. The Non-Believer in us would naturally say, "Riiiight," and walk away slowly.
Prayer is a deep and personal thing. It is our communion with God. It is our chance to talk through our own troubles with God an active listener. But its kind of like sending snail mail to someone to clarify something that you already sent via e-mail. God already knows what you want to say and has already answered your question before you've even asked it. I find most often that the act of prayer itself is the answer to the question I haven't yet asked. If I am troubled about a relationship and I go to ask God what I should I do about it, I will usually find my answer to the question while I am asking God for His answer and I'll just suddenly know what the answer is. You can't tell me that God's answer is silence. I know from personal experience.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Friday's Filings
Brought to you by Kellogs... start your day fresh with a big bowl of Kellog's Breakfast Cereal... and by the Number 4.
Lately, I find myself thinking of a certain President flying onto an aircraft carrier and declaring to the world that the "War is Over". I "Finished My Novel" on May 17th. It is now the end of December and I still haven't reached the half way point on the rough draft. Its taking a lot longer than I thought, primarily, because I've never been this far before on a novel or story. I've never rewritten anything. And the tendency is to try and perfect something that you know you'll never be able to perfect. Its like making Spaghetti and after cooking the noodles and adding the Ragu sauce, you want to start experimenting with spices to give it the most authentic Italian flavor possible. Sooner or later, all you're left with is a big mess of cold spaghetti. So, I've finally forced myself to come up with a withdrawal date - Novel done or not - and I'll be pulling my creative troops out of harms way on March 7th, 2006. See, Mr. President, it was that easy.
And speaking of Bush... Why does he need the Patriot Act? He seems to be dismantling the Constitution just fine on his own without any help from Congress.
Politics aside, this January 1st marks another banner day for me and my annual tradition. About 8 years ago I started a new tradition of creating a list of New Year Resolutions - one for each year that I've been alive. So, this year, now that I'm 36 (at least, I'm fairly certain that's how old I am... doing math is getting more complicated as I get older ;) I have to come up with a list of 36 New Year's Resolutions. Now, most of these resolutions tend to be the usual sort that you find on everyone's list - eat right, excercise more, write novel, win Pulitzer Prize for Fiction; that sort of thing. But combined with that smaller list, I usually try to match it with things that I actually want to do - to sort of force myself to do them. It just works as a sort of reminder throughout the year to take time out and do things for myself - like vacation or concerts or spend time with friends, things that I might cancel for other "more important" things if they weren't on my list. At least a few times every year I use the excuse - well, I've got to do that because its one of my resolutions. So, anyway, I totally recommend this excersise to you. I'll tell you now that you'll have no more success with 30 plus resolutions than you do with one. I usually get about 2 to 7 done a year. This year, I think I actually got about 10 done. But it definitely reminds you throughout the year what you wanted to accomplish and makes you think ahead about what's important.
This year, I believe the things on my list will include: Go to Disney World, Go to NCAA Sweet 16, and go to Giants game on my birthday. If any of you would like to chime in with some fun things you think I'd like to do, please send your comments. I have until January 1st to finish my list.
Lately, I find myself thinking of a certain President flying onto an aircraft carrier and declaring to the world that the "War is Over". I "Finished My Novel" on May 17th. It is now the end of December and I still haven't reached the half way point on the rough draft. Its taking a lot longer than I thought, primarily, because I've never been this far before on a novel or story. I've never rewritten anything. And the tendency is to try and perfect something that you know you'll never be able to perfect. Its like making Spaghetti and after cooking the noodles and adding the Ragu sauce, you want to start experimenting with spices to give it the most authentic Italian flavor possible. Sooner or later, all you're left with is a big mess of cold spaghetti. So, I've finally forced myself to come up with a withdrawal date - Novel done or not - and I'll be pulling my creative troops out of harms way on March 7th, 2006. See, Mr. President, it was that easy.
And speaking of Bush... Why does he need the Patriot Act? He seems to be dismantling the Constitution just fine on his own without any help from Congress.
Politics aside, this January 1st marks another banner day for me and my annual tradition. About 8 years ago I started a new tradition of creating a list of New Year Resolutions - one for each year that I've been alive. So, this year, now that I'm 36 (at least, I'm fairly certain that's how old I am... doing math is getting more complicated as I get older ;) I have to come up with a list of 36 New Year's Resolutions. Now, most of these resolutions tend to be the usual sort that you find on everyone's list - eat right, excercise more, write novel, win Pulitzer Prize for Fiction; that sort of thing. But combined with that smaller list, I usually try to match it with things that I actually want to do - to sort of force myself to do them. It just works as a sort of reminder throughout the year to take time out and do things for myself - like vacation or concerts or spend time with friends, things that I might cancel for other "more important" things if they weren't on my list. At least a few times every year I use the excuse - well, I've got to do that because its one of my resolutions. So, anyway, I totally recommend this excersise to you. I'll tell you now that you'll have no more success with 30 plus resolutions than you do with one. I usually get about 2 to 7 done a year. This year, I think I actually got about 10 done. But it definitely reminds you throughout the year what you wanted to accomplish and makes you think ahead about what's important.
This year, I believe the things on my list will include: Go to Disney World, Go to NCAA Sweet 16, and go to Giants game on my birthday. If any of you would like to chime in with some fun things you think I'd like to do, please send your comments. I have until January 1st to finish my list.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Under New Management...
Apparently, I've been bought out. In an agressive move, Andy from Mile From The Beach blog, bought up 2700 shares in ICON and is now the majority stock holder with 54% (which really makes one wonder who owns the other 46%). This is all part of a fantasy blog share game that you can access through Andy's blog at Mile From The Beach.
As Andy is now in charge, I will, of course, be changing my demands. No more will I be speaking about myself in whatever manner I choose. But now, since Corporate America has taken over my site, I will, of course, skew my dialog to whatever demographic pays the most money to visit my site and my advertisers. And since this data is collected scientifically and because Andy wants me to maximize my earning potential, I will no longer be advertising Gay Ford Trucks on my blog. That's right. Only manly trucks will be advertised here.
Of course, this is all dependent on whether our contract negotiations go through. As an employee now, my union wants a few words with Management. I need paid breaks, a good pension, and about a thirty million K signing bonus (whatever K is supposed to be ;) No bling, no blog. Its that simple.
*Sigh* I remember the day, not too long ago, when blogging was simple - before the corporations took over and became mega-bloggomerates. Back then the message was all about truth and God. But there's no room for that in the Corporate world.
So tomorrow's topic will be The Latest Things Paris Hilton Is Doing To Her Hair.
As Andy is now in charge, I will, of course, be changing my demands. No more will I be speaking about myself in whatever manner I choose. But now, since Corporate America has taken over my site, I will, of course, skew my dialog to whatever demographic pays the most money to visit my site and my advertisers. And since this data is collected scientifically and because Andy wants me to maximize my earning potential, I will no longer be advertising Gay Ford Trucks on my blog. That's right. Only manly trucks will be advertised here.
Of course, this is all dependent on whether our contract negotiations go through. As an employee now, my union wants a few words with Management. I need paid breaks, a good pension, and about a thirty million K signing bonus (whatever K is supposed to be ;) No bling, no blog. Its that simple.
*Sigh* I remember the day, not too long ago, when blogging was simple - before the corporations took over and became mega-bloggomerates. Back then the message was all about truth and God. But there's no room for that in the Corporate world.
So tomorrow's topic will be The Latest Things Paris Hilton Is Doing To Her Hair.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Guess You Had To Be There...
The Prodigal Son is the story of the beginning of wisdom. Every person goes through their own prodigal journey. Its a growing experience. Without it, we never will learn the important lessons of life.
For those of you who are new to the Bible, let me recap: A young man comes to his father and tells him that he wants to go see the world. The father gives the young man his share of the inheritance and sends him off. The young man travels the world. He sees amazing things, does amazing things, and generally sows his oats - so to speak. But then, he runs out of cash. He finds himself slopping the pigs for some farmer in a foreign nation just to survive. Then he realizes that even as a slave for his father, he would be treated with more respect - so he returns home. When his father sees his son return, he is so overjoyed that he calls for a great feast and restores his son to his former glory as his son (though one suspects the trips to Vegas aren't included in the new deal ;) In a nutshell, that's the story.
I just finished watching a movie called Jarhead. I can't recommend the movie, but to a very few people, but I think it perfectly captures the particular experience of youth finding their own way in the world. There's a scene near the end of the movie where the young Private, played by Jake Gylenhall, is in the middle of the Iraqi desert with his Staff Sergeant, played by Jamie Foxx. All around them it is artifical night as the oil wells burn and black clouds cover the landscape - illuminating the desert with their fiery glow. They are standing in a bomb crater. A completely fire gutted car sits silently at one end of the crater. The Staff Sergeant looks at his Private and says, "You know why I like this job?" "No, Staff Sergeant." "Because of this... where else are you going to see something like this?" It is a painfully ironic moment - and the beginning of wisdom.
Where else are you going to witness the fiery hell of war? Where else are you going to find yourself upside down and someone sliding an entire beer down a tube into your head? Where else are you going to go skinny dipping under a waterfall? Where else are you going to want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Where else are we going to stay up all night talking to someone we can't wait to know better? Youth. Prodigal youth. The beginnings of wisdom.
Until you live life, you can't begin to understand it.
For those of you who are new to the Bible, let me recap: A young man comes to his father and tells him that he wants to go see the world. The father gives the young man his share of the inheritance and sends him off. The young man travels the world. He sees amazing things, does amazing things, and generally sows his oats - so to speak. But then, he runs out of cash. He finds himself slopping the pigs for some farmer in a foreign nation just to survive. Then he realizes that even as a slave for his father, he would be treated with more respect - so he returns home. When his father sees his son return, he is so overjoyed that he calls for a great feast and restores his son to his former glory as his son (though one suspects the trips to Vegas aren't included in the new deal ;) In a nutshell, that's the story.
I just finished watching a movie called Jarhead. I can't recommend the movie, but to a very few people, but I think it perfectly captures the particular experience of youth finding their own way in the world. There's a scene near the end of the movie where the young Private, played by Jake Gylenhall, is in the middle of the Iraqi desert with his Staff Sergeant, played by Jamie Foxx. All around them it is artifical night as the oil wells burn and black clouds cover the landscape - illuminating the desert with their fiery glow. They are standing in a bomb crater. A completely fire gutted car sits silently at one end of the crater. The Staff Sergeant looks at his Private and says, "You know why I like this job?" "No, Staff Sergeant." "Because of this... where else are you going to see something like this?" It is a painfully ironic moment - and the beginning of wisdom.
Where else are you going to witness the fiery hell of war? Where else are you going to find yourself upside down and someone sliding an entire beer down a tube into your head? Where else are you going to go skinny dipping under a waterfall? Where else are you going to want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Where else are we going to stay up all night talking to someone we can't wait to know better? Youth. Prodigal youth. The beginnings of wisdom.
Until you live life, you can't begin to understand it.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Soap Box Time
In my novel, there is a character who, in essence, is the Prophet of this generation. He speaks to the people of the United States about being good and faithful servants. Basically, he gets up on his soap box and tells the people of America what he really thinks.
I was thinking. If you could stand up on a soap box and tell America one thing, one bit of wisdom, or one prayer, or one exhortation, what would it be? What would you tell America?
So, please, tell me what America needs to hear...
I was thinking. If you could stand up on a soap box and tell America one thing, one bit of wisdom, or one prayer, or one exhortation, what would it be? What would you tell America?
So, please, tell me what America needs to hear...
Friday, December 09, 2005
As the song says...
If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all...
I just got off the phone with my Ford Dealer. Now, to preface this, I don't really blame Ford. They're just playing the game. The dealers have always been nice and I've gotten nothing but exemplary service. That being said...
I bought this Ford Explorer in 2002. As part of the expense I took the warranty. The warranty was 3 years, 30,000 miles (Full Coverage) and 6 years, 60,000 miles (Extended Warrany). Because of the release date of the truck, its 3 years ran out about a month after I got the truck, and surprise, there was nothing wrong with it. About four months later, the hatch on the back of my truck broke (just a tiny piece of plastic sheered off). I took it in. $600 in repairs... and, because it was the exterior of the vehicle, it wasn't covered by the extended warranty. Since then, every six months or so, there has been some minor repair that has been needed. And surprise, its never once been covered by warranty.
I took my truck in yesterday with a problem with the pressure valves - an inside the engine kind of thing, right? There's only 57,000 miles on the truck. Well, as I said, I just got off the phone with my Ford Dealer. Not only has the extended service warranty expired - by one month - but this pressure valve thing wasn't covered by my warranty anyway. Another $300 down the drain.
I've probably already spent more for this car, in three years, than I did for my previous two cars over the course of 8 years. *sigh* And now with gas being what it is, its probably impossible for me to resell and not lose money. Oh well... at least I get a rental car for the next day...
Talk about being born under a bad sign...
I just got off the phone with my Ford Dealer. Now, to preface this, I don't really blame Ford. They're just playing the game. The dealers have always been nice and I've gotten nothing but exemplary service. That being said...
I bought this Ford Explorer in 2002. As part of the expense I took the warranty. The warranty was 3 years, 30,000 miles (Full Coverage) and 6 years, 60,000 miles (Extended Warrany). Because of the release date of the truck, its 3 years ran out about a month after I got the truck, and surprise, there was nothing wrong with it. About four months later, the hatch on the back of my truck broke (just a tiny piece of plastic sheered off). I took it in. $600 in repairs... and, because it was the exterior of the vehicle, it wasn't covered by the extended warranty. Since then, every six months or so, there has been some minor repair that has been needed. And surprise, its never once been covered by warranty.
I took my truck in yesterday with a problem with the pressure valves - an inside the engine kind of thing, right? There's only 57,000 miles on the truck. Well, as I said, I just got off the phone with my Ford Dealer. Not only has the extended service warranty expired - by one month - but this pressure valve thing wasn't covered by my warranty anyway. Another $300 down the drain.
I've probably already spent more for this car, in three years, than I did for my previous two cars over the course of 8 years. *sigh* And now with gas being what it is, its probably impossible for me to resell and not lose money. Oh well... at least I get a rental car for the next day...
Talk about being born under a bad sign...
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Christian Music
I grew up in the choir - almost as much as I grew up in Youth Group. My first choir director was Mr. Groves. When I was in grade school, Mr. Groves would not only teach and direct the boys and girls choirs, but he would also write and direct musicals. I sang in a couple of these musicals, most notably as Jamichi's Grandfather and The Selfish Giant - though I really wanted to be the dragon.
As I grew too old for boys choir and my voice started to change, I joined the adult Chancel Choir. I joined them just in time for Mozart's Requiem. To this day, that is one of the most challenging and best pieces of music I've ever sang. I sang with the adult choir, off and on, throughout high school and into my first year of college. Then I left to join the Navy.
Also during my youth group years, we would have singing sessions during our meetings and sometimes on our work camps. My good friend, Andy, preached recently about sitting around a campfire on the beach singing songs. One of the songs he mentioned was Have You Seen Jesus? I read the title, and I admit, it brought back no memories for me. I could see half of the titles as songs that I'd probably sung, but only a few tunes had stuck in my head since then.
More than ten years after I'd gone off to the Navy, I decided to go back to Lakeside. The thing that drew me back, actually, was the chance to sing in the choir. Though I was rusty at first, I really enjoyed the time spent singing. I've never been a very good singer - maybe better than average, but that's about it. I'd come to respect the fact that I was never going to be the next Pavarotti a long time before. And since, when you go off into the world, you tend to forget those skills that aren't going to take you anywhere - like riding a bike or playing pinball - I'd left singing behind as something I no longer needed. But when it was time to go back, I remembered how much joy I'd had singing. And sitting in that choir and singing to God really brought me back to my youth and reminded me of how good it felt to be in communion with God. I haven't looked back since.
The strangest thing happened to me today. Out of the clear blue, I was thinking about my Uncle's struggle with cancer and wondering what the future held in store for us all, and suddenly... this tune popped into my head. My brain is weird, all the time, and so I realized that it had probably seen the title of the song and started sifting through twenty years of memories to find the corresponding tune and words. But there I was, at work, suddenly humming and singing "Have You Seen Jesus?".
Here are the lyrics, in case, like me, you've forgotten a word or two...
Have You Seen Jesus My Lord?
Words and Music by John Fischer
(Written during his summer as the first music director at Ponderosa Lodge, the new high school camp at Mount Hermon Christian Conference Center.)
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever look at the sunset
With the sky mellowing red
And the clouds suspended like feathers
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever stood at the ocean
With the white foam at your feet
Felt the endless thundering motion
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever looked at the cross
With a man hanging in pain
And the look of love in his eyes
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
(I remember a verse that isn't there... so I think maybe there was another later version).
Anyway, I just wanted to share with you some thoughts on music. Hallelujah, Amen.
As I grew too old for boys choir and my voice started to change, I joined the adult Chancel Choir. I joined them just in time for Mozart's Requiem. To this day, that is one of the most challenging and best pieces of music I've ever sang. I sang with the adult choir, off and on, throughout high school and into my first year of college. Then I left to join the Navy.
Also during my youth group years, we would have singing sessions during our meetings and sometimes on our work camps. My good friend, Andy, preached recently about sitting around a campfire on the beach singing songs. One of the songs he mentioned was Have You Seen Jesus? I read the title, and I admit, it brought back no memories for me. I could see half of the titles as songs that I'd probably sung, but only a few tunes had stuck in my head since then.
More than ten years after I'd gone off to the Navy, I decided to go back to Lakeside. The thing that drew me back, actually, was the chance to sing in the choir. Though I was rusty at first, I really enjoyed the time spent singing. I've never been a very good singer - maybe better than average, but that's about it. I'd come to respect the fact that I was never going to be the next Pavarotti a long time before. And since, when you go off into the world, you tend to forget those skills that aren't going to take you anywhere - like riding a bike or playing pinball - I'd left singing behind as something I no longer needed. But when it was time to go back, I remembered how much joy I'd had singing. And sitting in that choir and singing to God really brought me back to my youth and reminded me of how good it felt to be in communion with God. I haven't looked back since.
The strangest thing happened to me today. Out of the clear blue, I was thinking about my Uncle's struggle with cancer and wondering what the future held in store for us all, and suddenly... this tune popped into my head. My brain is weird, all the time, and so I realized that it had probably seen the title of the song and started sifting through twenty years of memories to find the corresponding tune and words. But there I was, at work, suddenly humming and singing "Have You Seen Jesus?".
Here are the lyrics, in case, like me, you've forgotten a word or two...
Have You Seen Jesus My Lord?
Words and Music by John Fischer
(Written during his summer as the first music director at Ponderosa Lodge, the new high school camp at Mount Hermon Christian Conference Center.)
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever look at the sunset
With the sky mellowing red
And the clouds suspended like feathers
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever stood at the ocean
With the white foam at your feet
Felt the endless thundering motion
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
Have you seen Jesus my Lord
He's here in plain view
Take a look open your eyes
He'll show it to you
Have you ever looked at the cross
With a man hanging in pain
And the look of love in his eyes
Then I say you've seen Jesus my Lord
(I remember a verse that isn't there... so I think maybe there was another later version).
Anyway, I just wanted to share with you some thoughts on music. Hallelujah, Amen.
Monday, December 05, 2005
More
I've been spending time these last couple of weeks thinking about my own needs. Not in the selfish way that I usually do, but in a philosophical way intended to better myself. I think my biggest problem is that I always want More. More money, more food, more happiness, more love. Isn't it the Bhuddists who say that all of our problems are created by not accepting things as they are? I don't really know. All I know is I want More Knowledge on the subject.
Emile Durkheim proposed a theory at the turn of the century that all religions speak to the desires of the society. The theory suggested that if a society wants law and order, the religion will promote just that. Its really hard to agree or disagree with the theory because as an American I have grown up in a poly-religious society. If I want a religion that promotes law and order, I can go find one. There is no one religion that we all belong to. But I have often thought that the single greatest flaw in this theory is how counter-intuitive Christianity is. We all strive to be first in everything - that is human nature - but Christ said, The Last shall be First and the First shall be Last. And I don't see a societal shift of everyone racing to be Last.
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be self-less - to take yourself completely out of the equation. I mean, think about that. What if you were to make every choice, and every decision, on the basis of what it would mean to other people? I'm not sure it can be done. I'm not sure that even Jesus did it. Even He stopped to feed himself from time to time. Even He didn't give all His possessions to the poor. Presumably He kept the clothes on His back and the sandals on His feet. But Christ did give everything for us. He sacrificed Himself for us. He took the whip for us. He took the flail for us. He took the Cross for us. Even though He knew He could stop it at any time. I'm not sure that I'd be anywhere near as good. I hate pain. I can't even stand to go hungry. I'd be broken a lot faster than three cock crows. I'd probably break after the second... or maybe the first.
So what does it mean to want More? What does it mean when you spend your entire life thinking about how you can do things that benefit you the most? Does it just mean you're human? Does it mean that you're trying to be the best you you can be? Or does it mean that you are not yet self-less? Or dare I say it, selfish? Is Greed a part of my daily life?
I don't know. I want to know more. I think we all do. I'm pretty sure that doesn't make me greedy. But I'll bet God is the judge of that.
Emile Durkheim proposed a theory at the turn of the century that all religions speak to the desires of the society. The theory suggested that if a society wants law and order, the religion will promote just that. Its really hard to agree or disagree with the theory because as an American I have grown up in a poly-religious society. If I want a religion that promotes law and order, I can go find one. There is no one religion that we all belong to. But I have often thought that the single greatest flaw in this theory is how counter-intuitive Christianity is. We all strive to be first in everything - that is human nature - but Christ said, The Last shall be First and the First shall be Last. And I don't see a societal shift of everyone racing to be Last.
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be self-less - to take yourself completely out of the equation. I mean, think about that. What if you were to make every choice, and every decision, on the basis of what it would mean to other people? I'm not sure it can be done. I'm not sure that even Jesus did it. Even He stopped to feed himself from time to time. Even He didn't give all His possessions to the poor. Presumably He kept the clothes on His back and the sandals on His feet. But Christ did give everything for us. He sacrificed Himself for us. He took the whip for us. He took the flail for us. He took the Cross for us. Even though He knew He could stop it at any time. I'm not sure that I'd be anywhere near as good. I hate pain. I can't even stand to go hungry. I'd be broken a lot faster than three cock crows. I'd probably break after the second... or maybe the first.
So what does it mean to want More? What does it mean when you spend your entire life thinking about how you can do things that benefit you the most? Does it just mean you're human? Does it mean that you're trying to be the best you you can be? Or does it mean that you are not yet self-less? Or dare I say it, selfish? Is Greed a part of my daily life?
I don't know. I want to know more. I think we all do. I'm pretty sure that doesn't make me greedy. But I'll bet God is the judge of that.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
The Hills Are Alive...
I thought we'd change pace a bit and rewrite some classic songs in honor of Christmas using our own words. While this first song isn't exactly a Christmas song, I always watch this movie at least once this time of year.
I've only written the first verse, so feel free to chime in with the rest...
Rainstorms and doughnuts and lovely swimsuit vixens!
The flicker of movies and chicken - finger lickin!
Electronic games that like to go "ping!"
These are a few of my favorite things!
Join in!
I've only written the first verse, so feel free to chime in with the rest...
Rainstorms and doughnuts and lovely swimsuit vixens!
The flicker of movies and chicken - finger lickin!
Electronic games that like to go "ping!"
These are a few of my favorite things!
Join in!
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