The other day I got to thinking that I sometimes focus on all the things that go wrong instead of all the things that go right and that perhaps it would be a helpful exercise to take note of things I'm thankful for everyday. I may not keep up with posting them, but for today, here are a few things I noticed. (The order isn't important or significant.) I'm thankful for:
1. naps
2. electricity
3. Kari
4. peace and quiet
5. machines that wash your cloths for you
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Monday, May 18, 2009
On the sidelines
I haven't posted anything for awhile except for a rather strange note about the wind on the beach. It means something to me and that's what's really important.
I took a long walk today
in the rain.
I like the rain. It makes my yard grow and stay nice and green. It makes the sunny days beautiful. And it means that whenever I'm thirsty there is always going to be something clean coming out of the tap.
While I was walking I thought, "I haven't posted anything on the blog in awhile... Hmm."
But I haven't really had much to say.
I started this blog as a place to write down the things that ran through my head that I kept losing. But I haven't had anything run through my head that was worth holding on to recently. I've been on the sidelines, watching life go by without doing much to participate.
That needs to change.
I need to change.
Again.
I took a long walk today
in the rain.
I like the rain. It makes my yard grow and stay nice and green. It makes the sunny days beautiful. And it means that whenever I'm thirsty there is always going to be something clean coming out of the tap.
While I was walking I thought, "I haven't posted anything on the blog in awhile... Hmm."
But I haven't really had much to say.
I started this blog as a place to write down the things that ran through my head that I kept losing. But I haven't had anything run through my head that was worth holding on to recently. I've been on the sidelines, watching life go by without doing much to participate.
That needs to change.
I need to change.
Again.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Peaks and Valleys
I had someone ask me about my peaks and valleys of the last year. The more I thought I about it, the harder it was to come up with an answer, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean everyone talks about peaks and valleys in their life as if they are the normal natural way of things. It's as if not having them means there's something wrong.
But what's the basis of the view of reality?
I like to think I base my view of reality upon Jesus, and maybe I'm missing something (I frequently am) but he doesn't seem to talk about peaks and valleys and certainly not about the need for there to be an annual peak and valley experience.
This is not to say life has been one fantastic peak for the past year or a horrible valley either. Life has been (cheesy metaphor alert) a journey of learning.
I feel like in the last year I have learned about God's perspective of the differences between rich and poor and about the pitfalls of nationalism. I've gained a new perspective and appreciation for the church as God's instrument for working in the world. I've learned a little more about what it means for God's eternal kingdom to begin now and not after we die.
Some of my moments of learning have been quite jarring, unsettling even, but they don't fit nicely into the peak or valley department. They haven't been the height of emotion either positively or negatively, but unlike those moments, they've had endurance.
I'm not sure how I feel about peaks and valleys. I like the peaks and I appreciate the valleys once I've passed through them. But so much of the time what I remember of them is the emotional charge that came from them and not anything that has stuck with me.
(I usually start these things thinking I'll just write something short and sweet and then it turns into something long and drawn out. I had written more, but I was just rambling, so I'll call it day with what I've got.)
But what's the basis of the view of reality?
I like to think I base my view of reality upon Jesus, and maybe I'm missing something (I frequently am) but he doesn't seem to talk about peaks and valleys and certainly not about the need for there to be an annual peak and valley experience.
This is not to say life has been one fantastic peak for the past year or a horrible valley either. Life has been (cheesy metaphor alert) a journey of learning.
I feel like in the last year I have learned about God's perspective of the differences between rich and poor and about the pitfalls of nationalism. I've gained a new perspective and appreciation for the church as God's instrument for working in the world. I've learned a little more about what it means for God's eternal kingdom to begin now and not after we die.
Some of my moments of learning have been quite jarring, unsettling even, but they don't fit nicely into the peak or valley department. They haven't been the height of emotion either positively or negatively, but unlike those moments, they've had endurance.
I'm not sure how I feel about peaks and valleys. I like the peaks and I appreciate the valleys once I've passed through them. But so much of the time what I remember of them is the emotional charge that came from them and not anything that has stuck with me.
(I usually start these things thinking I'll just write something short and sweet and then it turns into something long and drawn out. I had written more, but I was just rambling, so I'll call it day with what I've got.)
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Squatting
I'm processing.
There was a story on one of those morning news shows about squatting. Apparently there are groups who are helping the homeless move into foreclosed and government owned property. The interviewer asked a leader of one of the groups about the fairness of allowing people to live in homes they weren't paying for while their neighbors continued to pay their mortgage.
On the one hand I can see her point. Paying a morgage sucks, but Kari and I do it faithfully every month. It doesn't really seem fair that others would be able to simply skip that unpleasant part of American existence.
On the other hand, who gives a crap about fairness? We live in the most wealthy country in the world. What does it say about us as a society if we let people live on the streets while literally tens if not hundreds of thousands of houses sit empty?
Now I think squatting is less than ideal. It's illegal, for one. Which means if families who are doing it are caught, they could wind up in jail, leaving their homeless children parentless as well. The conditions aren't fantastic either. They make sure that water and electric are working, but other than that, things are pretty sparse and not necessarily clean.
The alternative is pretty sparse and unclean as well, under bridges and such.
What do I think would be ideal: the wealthy purchasing foreclosed properties out of their excess and opening them to people in need. It was Augustine who said, "Find out how much God has given you and take from it what you need; the remainder is needed by others." But that's the tough part with ideals. The ideal requires those who are best at hoarding to be generous. It requires people to be the opposite of their nature. It requires people to sacrifice for those who are, "undeserving." It requires that people love each other for no other than reason than our shared humanity and act out that love in a real, tangible way.
This leads to the inevitable question: what are you going to do about it? And here's the discomfort.
I read this book that talked about being the answer to our prayers. It wasn't talking about a God who is inactive or needs our help. It was framed in this way. Sometimes we pray to God, "Why don't you do something," and in that moment we hear a gentle voice say, "I did do something, I made you."
So I watch this thing about families needing a home and in the same breath pointing out the wealth of available housing that sits empty, and I wonder what am I supposed to do about it? I'm not wealthy and I sometimes struggle to pay my mortgage. But I am part of a community of people knitted together by shared commitment to following the leading of our creator. I think that in all the ways the church has failed, this is one in which success can be so very close.
But I'm processing.
How do I (off the charts on the introvert scale according to Meyers-Briggs) organize and mobilize a group of disconnected, yet linked people to step in and offer grace to those who are so close to us and yet so removed? There are people all over the world with less, about 5.5 billion of them. What makes the people who are homeless in our country any more deserving than any of them?
Nothing.
But that's the point. When Jesus told his disciple to change the world he didn't tell them to make a list of the most needy and prioritize their mission based on their assessment. He told them to stay where they were, start with their neighbors, and spread out from there.
Poverty is a global problem that deserves action the world over, but I'm right here in the United States. Even if I can't pay the market value for a house that's for sale, there are distressed properties that get auctioned for fractions of their market value. Maybe Christians can come together to purchase these houses, Christian who couldn't afford them on their own, but have some excess that could be pooled.
I don't know. It could work.
But it would take an act of God, moving through real people to make a real difference, through a love that has hands and feet that look like people I know.
There was a story on one of those morning news shows about squatting. Apparently there are groups who are helping the homeless move into foreclosed and government owned property. The interviewer asked a leader of one of the groups about the fairness of allowing people to live in homes they weren't paying for while their neighbors continued to pay their mortgage.
On the one hand I can see her point. Paying a morgage sucks, but Kari and I do it faithfully every month. It doesn't really seem fair that others would be able to simply skip that unpleasant part of American existence.
On the other hand, who gives a crap about fairness? We live in the most wealthy country in the world. What does it say about us as a society if we let people live on the streets while literally tens if not hundreds of thousands of houses sit empty?
Now I think squatting is less than ideal. It's illegal, for one. Which means if families who are doing it are caught, they could wind up in jail, leaving their homeless children parentless as well. The conditions aren't fantastic either. They make sure that water and electric are working, but other than that, things are pretty sparse and not necessarily clean.
The alternative is pretty sparse and unclean as well, under bridges and such.
What do I think would be ideal: the wealthy purchasing foreclosed properties out of their excess and opening them to people in need. It was Augustine who said, "Find out how much God has given you and take from it what you need; the remainder is needed by others." But that's the tough part with ideals. The ideal requires those who are best at hoarding to be generous. It requires people to be the opposite of their nature. It requires people to sacrifice for those who are, "undeserving." It requires that people love each other for no other than reason than our shared humanity and act out that love in a real, tangible way.
This leads to the inevitable question: what are you going to do about it? And here's the discomfort.
I read this book that talked about being the answer to our prayers. It wasn't talking about a God who is inactive or needs our help. It was framed in this way. Sometimes we pray to God, "Why don't you do something," and in that moment we hear a gentle voice say, "I did do something, I made you."
So I watch this thing about families needing a home and in the same breath pointing out the wealth of available housing that sits empty, and I wonder what am I supposed to do about it? I'm not wealthy and I sometimes struggle to pay my mortgage. But I am part of a community of people knitted together by shared commitment to following the leading of our creator. I think that in all the ways the church has failed, this is one in which success can be so very close.
But I'm processing.
How do I (off the charts on the introvert scale according to Meyers-Briggs) organize and mobilize a group of disconnected, yet linked people to step in and offer grace to those who are so close to us and yet so removed? There are people all over the world with less, about 5.5 billion of them. What makes the people who are homeless in our country any more deserving than any of them?
Nothing.
But that's the point. When Jesus told his disciple to change the world he didn't tell them to make a list of the most needy and prioritize their mission based on their assessment. He told them to stay where they were, start with their neighbors, and spread out from there.
Poverty is a global problem that deserves action the world over, but I'm right here in the United States. Even if I can't pay the market value for a house that's for sale, there are distressed properties that get auctioned for fractions of their market value. Maybe Christians can come together to purchase these houses, Christian who couldn't afford them on their own, but have some excess that could be pooled.
I don't know. It could work.
But it would take an act of God, moving through real people to make a real difference, through a love that has hands and feet that look like people I know.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Back in the saddle
I'm going to lead worship tomorrow at Impact. It's been awhile since I've stood at a microphone to lead worship and I think I'm looking forward to it. Ultimately it is what I'd like to do with my life, but it's a bit different when it's a fill-in role. There's not the relationship and the degree of knowing which songs people will know and which ones they won't. It's harder to have a sense for where people are, when to push them to go further and when to let them dwell in a moment.
I know it will go well, but I'm wondering in what sense. There are times when I have reflected as a musician and thought, "that sucked." But in those times there are things I have learned and in the sense of a fuller understanding of who God is and who I am in relation to God, those have been successes as much or more than the others. My pride needs to be knocked down sometimes and being musically incompetent in front of people will do that for you. If this is one of the times, I pray I learn quickly.
I know it will go well, but I'm wondering in what sense. There are times when I have reflected as a musician and thought, "that sucked." But in those times there are things I have learned and in the sense of a fuller understanding of who God is and who I am in relation to God, those have been successes as much or more than the others. My pride needs to be knocked down sometimes and being musically incompetent in front of people will do that for you. If this is one of the times, I pray I learn quickly.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Doormat
So today someone was rude to one of the people I work with. She came over to me afterward and vented a bit and wanted me to, "do something about it." The thing she wanted to do was complain to the person's boss.
I didn't.
I did two things.
First we talked about why people lose sight of what's really important and get caught up in their own thing. They go to work at a hospital but forget that they're there to serve patients and not to cross things off their to-do list.
Second I mentioned that maybe when she comes into contact with a person like this she should turn the other cheek. She's a believer so in theory that should actually mean something to her. However, she seemed to take it as some sort of insult. (We talked about it more and I think she's ok.)
It got me to thinking. There's this prevailing thought that when Jesus said that, he didn't mean you should be a doormat. He was using a literary device called hyperbole where you say something that is far beyond reality to make a point.
But as Kari and I were talking about it tonight we started thinking about Jesus' last night with his disciples before his execution. He makes a point of going around and washing his disciples feet. Now I'm not a historian, and I won't claim to know everything about their time or culture, but it struck me that in a way, the last thing Jesus did before his crucifixion was to wipe his disciples' feet, to be a literal doormat for them.
I don't think turn the other cheek is hyperbole. I think that when God says that his wisdom is foolishness to the world that includes being a doormat.
I didn't.
I did two things.
First we talked about why people lose sight of what's really important and get caught up in their own thing. They go to work at a hospital but forget that they're there to serve patients and not to cross things off their to-do list.
Second I mentioned that maybe when she comes into contact with a person like this she should turn the other cheek. She's a believer so in theory that should actually mean something to her. However, she seemed to take it as some sort of insult. (We talked about it more and I think she's ok.)
It got me to thinking. There's this prevailing thought that when Jesus said that, he didn't mean you should be a doormat. He was using a literary device called hyperbole where you say something that is far beyond reality to make a point.
But as Kari and I were talking about it tonight we started thinking about Jesus' last night with his disciples before his execution. He makes a point of going around and washing his disciples feet. Now I'm not a historian, and I won't claim to know everything about their time or culture, but it struck me that in a way, the last thing Jesus did before his crucifixion was to wipe his disciples' feet, to be a literal doormat for them.
I don't think turn the other cheek is hyperbole. I think that when God says that his wisdom is foolishness to the world that includes being a doormat.
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