On a normal night I will lie down in bed and be asleep in less than 4 minutes. Recently, due to issues with my shoulder, which I dislocated a few years ago, I've not been able to fall asleep for about 2 - 3 hours. So, I've been staying up later and reading, while ironically nodding off mid-sentence. I decided I would re-read the second part of Genesis, beginning a little before Abraham comes on the scene.
Yesterday I finished Genesis and found myself captured once again to the Word of God and the themes throughout the stories. First off, as I was reading how Abraham told his wife, Sarah, to pretend to be his sister when they interacted with Abimilech and when his son, Isaac, did the same thing with his wife, I said out loud, "Man, it is very apparent that God uses broken, messed up people." I've had the assumption at times that if a person was a "hero of the Bible" then they had a clean record and was morally spic-and-span. That's why God used them--what a better way to show that 'being good' counts and will get you somewhere. And I would assume that if God used anybody today then that person had to be perfect. Further, if I wanted to be used by God then I had to earn it. If I was "human" for just one minute then God would turn away and leave me in the dust. Now, don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying we should pursue holiness and discipline, which God does honor. What I am saying is that sometimes we emotionally disqualify ourselves, thinking God will not use us because we've messed up.
Then I read about the brothers, Jacob and Esau. Good grief. Sibling rivalry at its finest, or worst. Esau is born and Jacob comes right after him, grabbing Esau's foot as they are both delivered. And that's Jacob's character--the "tripper upper." He is sneaky, dishonest, and seeks ways to manipulate situations so that life turns out his way. He manipulated Esau and got the birthright, he manipulated the livestock so that he ended up lording over his brother-in-law, Laban, and he ended up having children who acted the same way. His conscience bothers him so much and he is terrified to meet his brother, Esau, because Esau is incensed about the birthright situation and said, "The next time I see you, Jacob, I'm going to get you for what you did to me." Jacob probably spends some time wondering if he will ever really amount to anything, if he will be great like his father Isaac or his grandfather, Abraham. And the promise comes that he will, but only after he wrestles with God and comes up limping.
After reading that I came to the conclusion that there are times in our life that God graces us with wounds, especially wounds to our pride and our self-reliance. God graces us with finiteness and with the ability to realize we cannot do it all ourselves, that it is wrong and unhealthy to manipulate others, life and God. We easily make messes of our life and then the web becomes so intricate that we end up endangering ourselves. We need supernatural intervention from outside. And that is why I am so thankful for the grace of God.
There's the story of Abraham and Isaac too, where Abraham is told to sacrifice his only son. Isaac was an answered prayer and God asked him to give up the answered prayer. God subsequently provided a sacrifice and the Scripture states that in that act, Abraham proved how much love it takes to be willing to sacrifice a son. Scripture says that God gave up his son, Jesus, on a hillside like Abraham did Isaac, and proved his love for us. How magnificent and wonderful, mysterious and powerful that is.
I guess that's the summary: we are broken, whether it is apparent to others or not, and yet God graciously comes to us to purify us and to subsequently use us in this world. God does not come to just purify us, to "save us" and take us to heaven one day. Nope. That's very important but that's not all of the story. God graces us in the here and now so that we can be a blessing (Genesis 12; Galatians 3:26-29) and that blessing extends to the ever after. Being graced is not the end; it's only the beginning. Isn't it nice to be welcomed to the genesis of grace?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Essence of Infant
Today is Violet's first sick day from "learning center" or "daycare," whichever, I don't really mind. I just sat in the rocking chair with her in my lap and rocked for about 30 minutes, neither one of us saying or mumbling anything--quite a rarity for both of us. We just watched the sunshine dot our arms as back and forth we went. There was a point of terror when I thought that one day my head could possibly look like hers--balding, peach fuzzy, and, God forbid, soft spots!
I like her sick stage right now--she's mellow and just wants to lounge around and hack, like she's someone who's been smoking for 8 decades or so. But the one thing I'm having to get used to is the constant spitting up. I think I agree with the great Southern Philosopher, Jeff Foxworthy, who put forth the theory that babies are actually nauseated by the smell of a clean shirt. Judging by the incessant knocking of our washer, I've got overwhelming empirical data.
Setting that aside for the moment, last night at church Robert lead us in considering Jesus' words that we must receive the kingdom of God like children. The point was made a subsequently agreed to that children have nothing to give except themselves and have to rely on someone else bigger than them to provide for them and to take care of them. How many times have you received from God only to feel the need to reciprocate? Yeah, me too. And that actually works against grace when I do that. What if I just simply received instead of trying to pay back? Now that's a point worth thinking about while doing the laundry.
Wishing you a fresh, spring freshness,
Jason
I like her sick stage right now--she's mellow and just wants to lounge around and hack, like she's someone who's been smoking for 8 decades or so. But the one thing I'm having to get used to is the constant spitting up. I think I agree with the great Southern Philosopher, Jeff Foxworthy, who put forth the theory that babies are actually nauseated by the smell of a clean shirt. Judging by the incessant knocking of our washer, I've got overwhelming empirical data.
Setting that aside for the moment, last night at church Robert lead us in considering Jesus' words that we must receive the kingdom of God like children. The point was made a subsequently agreed to that children have nothing to give except themselves and have to rely on someone else bigger than them to provide for them and to take care of them. How many times have you received from God only to feel the need to reciprocate? Yeah, me too. And that actually works against grace when I do that. What if I just simply received instead of trying to pay back? Now that's a point worth thinking about while doing the laundry.
Wishing you a fresh, spring freshness,
Jason
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Tonight the doorbell rang
One week into year six of marriage and things are still rockin'! Though my wife isn't my most faithful reader, I must say that it's very cool to be married to someone like her. Last weekend we were able to spend our anniversary in a friend's cabin on the TN river. It was such a wonderful time. But I was a new kind of widower that has originated over the past several years due to mystical influences arising out of western Europe. That's right, I was a Harry Potter widower. Barb spent more time lamenting the possible fate Harry than Mattel has over the toy recall.
I just spent time with the Idiot. I mean, that book written by Dostoevsky. I've started that book twice and finally finished it 7 months and 701 pages later. I'm like that, once I start a book I must finish it. That's why I never get the Guinness Book of World Records or a set of Encyclopedias or Owner Manuals. It literally makes me nervous to have a book unfinished. Oh, by the way, The Idiot is not worth the effort. Just read a summary on Wikipedia.
The short of it: Violet is 4 months old and is laughing now. Our schedule is changing and we are getting the worm, as the adage goes. Barb is going back to work and my work load is full tilt. Life is good; the dog's asleep; this heat is ridiculous. Tonight the doorbell rang. I opened the door and it was the katydids; they were all asking to come in from the heat. Today I think I literally saw heat dripping from the trees.
Just wanted to let you know my keyboard works.
Hollar if ya have the chance.
I just spent time with the Idiot. I mean, that book written by Dostoevsky. I've started that book twice and finally finished it 7 months and 701 pages later. I'm like that, once I start a book I must finish it. That's why I never get the Guinness Book of World Records or a set of Encyclopedias or Owner Manuals. It literally makes me nervous to have a book unfinished. Oh, by the way, The Idiot is not worth the effort. Just read a summary on Wikipedia.
The short of it: Violet is 4 months old and is laughing now. Our schedule is changing and we are getting the worm, as the adage goes. Barb is going back to work and my work load is full tilt. Life is good; the dog's asleep; this heat is ridiculous. Tonight the doorbell rang. I opened the door and it was the katydids; they were all asking to come in from the heat. Today I think I literally saw heat dripping from the trees.
Just wanted to let you know my keyboard works.
Hollar if ya have the chance.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Among Other Good Things
"Life is difficult" are the first three words in M. Scott Peck's book, The Road Less Traveled. That is the angst and essence of Douglas Coupland's book, Life After God. That is the silence between the clanging of the guitars in Adam Duritz's songs. And that is the blaring and recurring phrase in Ecclesiastes. Yet, though life is difficult it is also mysterious, wonderful, beautiful. I am reminded of this as I watch my garden grow, my little girl wrap her tiny fingers around an object on purpose for the first time, or when I contemplate that we are god-like in our capacities (created in the image of God) and yet are mortal. We are capable of such artistry seen in architecture and fine art and yet eat other animals and tear their flesh with our teeth after heating them with invisible fire in our kitchen. We are the only animals that are aware that the world will continue without us when we die and perhaps that is the what all our heartache and longing is about. Maybe that is why life is difficult--life is so short and death so long that it frustrates us that we should experience hurt during such a short stint.
I think that I agree with the apostle/pastor/church planter and believer, Paul, when he talks to a church in Colossae--that thankfulness can pull a disparate group of individuals out of their self-defeating (a group defeating), cynical thinking and push them toward unity that is found in Christ Jesus. That's an extremely long sentence and I'm sure that my editor, if I had one, would send it back to me with a lot of markings. However, the point stands, thankfulness is good for the soul--the soul of the person and the soul of the church. I'm not talking about the superficial way that we often go about it--How ya doin? Well, can't complain. I mean, I could, but what good would it do? Or: How ya doin? Pretty good all things considered. Or the best one: How ya doin? Fine. Now, I understand that there are appropriate levels of disclosure and that sometimes it's ok to express cultural niceties without becoming a skeptic but I still think we glaze over our problems because it bothers us to acknowledge it.
Anyway, back to the point. Thankfulness is good for the soul. Why? Because it acknowledges that God has been good to the soul through redeeming us from our selfish, morbid, limited-in-scope kind of life, where I used to think it was about me and my feelings. It's not about me. It's about us before it's about me. But it's about the goodness of God providing the way back to him through the atoning work of Jesus upon the cross before it's about anyone else. And that is true no matter how I feel about it. God doesn't need to authenticate his existence to the world through me as if I'm the last bastion of hope and that he is real, that this isn't some cosmic fluke. I'm mean, if scientist studied me I don't think I'd be a good case for intelligent design, but I digress.
But perhaps thankfulness is about acknowledging the bad, the bad and the worse that lies below the silent surface of decorum. That underneath my fickle facade is a soul that is broken, tarnished, faded, rightfully hurting and in need of cleansing. And not just of cleansing, I am in need of being used, used for good purposes that would bring fame to God, meaning to me and thankfulness into the lives of others. And that is good for the soul--mine and yours.
I think that I agree with the apostle/pastor/church planter and believer, Paul, when he talks to a church in Colossae--that thankfulness can pull a disparate group of individuals out of their self-defeating (a group defeating), cynical thinking and push them toward unity that is found in Christ Jesus. That's an extremely long sentence and I'm sure that my editor, if I had one, would send it back to me with a lot of markings. However, the point stands, thankfulness is good for the soul--the soul of the person and the soul of the church. I'm not talking about the superficial way that we often go about it--How ya doin? Well, can't complain. I mean, I could, but what good would it do? Or: How ya doin? Pretty good all things considered. Or the best one: How ya doin? Fine. Now, I understand that there are appropriate levels of disclosure and that sometimes it's ok to express cultural niceties without becoming a skeptic but I still think we glaze over our problems because it bothers us to acknowledge it.
Anyway, back to the point. Thankfulness is good for the soul. Why? Because it acknowledges that God has been good to the soul through redeeming us from our selfish, morbid, limited-in-scope kind of life, where I used to think it was about me and my feelings. It's not about me. It's about us before it's about me. But it's about the goodness of God providing the way back to him through the atoning work of Jesus upon the cross before it's about anyone else. And that is true no matter how I feel about it. God doesn't need to authenticate his existence to the world through me as if I'm the last bastion of hope and that he is real, that this isn't some cosmic fluke. I'm mean, if scientist studied me I don't think I'd be a good case for intelligent design, but I digress.
But perhaps thankfulness is about acknowledging the bad, the bad and the worse that lies below the silent surface of decorum. That underneath my fickle facade is a soul that is broken, tarnished, faded, rightfully hurting and in need of cleansing. And not just of cleansing, I am in need of being used, used for good purposes that would bring fame to God, meaning to me and thankfulness into the lives of others. And that is good for the soul--mine and yours.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
A Facet of the Brilliance of God
Good-bye's going already?
We are approaching our 1 year of life in Memphis, and what a year it has been! From the ocean breeze of the West Coast to the Swamp East portion of the nation, as I recently heard it called, with it's popcorn thunderstorms and leaf wilting humidity.
When we first landed here we crashed at Robert and Mandy's house for 5 days as we hunted and gathered an apartment, just like in the olden days. We are very appreciative of their friendship then and now as it continues to grow through the various troughs and crests that is life. In California we had surrounding us a great social and spiritual network of people who loved us, cared for us and knew us, and after a year here we are beginning to see sprouts and shoots of similar things here, the soul sustaining vegetation of friendship. Whatever that means.
Undoubtedly it was tough last year to pack up all of our stuff on the moving truck and to watch all of the familiar scenery of seven years recede into the rear view mirror, perhaps telling us we will only see our California life in retrospect while continually moving forward to a new goal and gift given us by God. Last month Barb and I packed up our bags and flew back to NorCAl for a week and found ourselves appreciative of our friends, our church and the Hollywood-movie-set-like scenery that is Marin County. We were able to stay at the house of friends who were out of town, which was an unbelievably great blessing--though the man of the house would snicker at me for calling it that. We were able to see so many of the people we still think about and pray for and we were also able to worship with Hillside Church, who has been a bright spot on my spiritual map for years. And while we were there we became homesick for that place that was no longer home and friendsick for people who will remain fixtures in our lives. God has carried us and has carried on well in our lives and theirs. Our lives are resplendent with his grace.
After arriving back from CA we heard the news that an anchor within Cooper Young, Rosemary West, passed away. When Robert told us the news Barb and I both were saddened at the loss of this kind and cheerful neighbor who loved her family and who could be considered a garden-guru. She is and will continue to be missed.
A few weeks ago I was driving through the east side of our neighborhood and noticed that the house of an acquaintance was for sale. They had bought the house about the same time we bought ours and we were nevertheless surprised by the for sale sign. Barb called Jamilia and Jamilia let us know of their going away party, which we went to last night. There were people we had meet before, had dinner with or had seen at other parties. We were laughing, meeting, eating and drinking with strangers who are neighbors, who seemed to be enjoying a nice evening with Jamilia and Simon and their extended network. By the end of the night emails promised and cell numbers given, hand shakes and see-you-laters, drop on bys and give us a calls. You've had this happen too; I'm not living a surreal life. It's very common.
Though common, don't you think our human experience is so mysterious and captivating--the bonds we make, the importance of saying good bye, the crucial nature of letting go, of being willing to start over or of simply saying, "I'm so glad I met someone like you."? I absolutely believe that this shows us a facet of the brilliance of God. We long for deep, enriching relationships because we are created by a relational God. It's in our spiritual dna; we can't help it. It helps us.
Relational: interesting to think about how God reaches us with his grace. It is rarely through a dream, though I've had that happen, but only once. It is rarely through a miraculous sign. It is more often than not through another person. I mean, think about, for centuries God had been speaking through prophets and holy men and writing things on parchment and then finally he dressed himself in skin and moved into the neighborhood and we called him Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us.
No matter what prestige I put upon the Word of God (and I place a lot), God seems to also incarnate grace to me through others-- even in the little sparkly eyes of an infant, the wily smile of a two-year-old, or the weathered face of an elderly friend. It is much more than human companionship, it is the truth that when I look at another I see the handiwork and genius of God whose character and love has more glimmering angles than a diamond.
We are approaching our 1 year of life in Memphis, and what a year it has been! From the ocean breeze of the West Coast to the Swamp East portion of the nation, as I recently heard it called, with it's popcorn thunderstorms and leaf wilting humidity.
When we first landed here we crashed at Robert and Mandy's house for 5 days as we hunted and gathered an apartment, just like in the olden days. We are very appreciative of their friendship then and now as it continues to grow through the various troughs and crests that is life. In California we had surrounding us a great social and spiritual network of people who loved us, cared for us and knew us, and after a year here we are beginning to see sprouts and shoots of similar things here, the soul sustaining vegetation of friendship. Whatever that means.
Undoubtedly it was tough last year to pack up all of our stuff on the moving truck and to watch all of the familiar scenery of seven years recede into the rear view mirror, perhaps telling us we will only see our California life in retrospect while continually moving forward to a new goal and gift given us by God. Last month Barb and I packed up our bags and flew back to NorCAl for a week and found ourselves appreciative of our friends, our church and the Hollywood-movie-set-like scenery that is Marin County. We were able to stay at the house of friends who were out of town, which was an unbelievably great blessing--though the man of the house would snicker at me for calling it that. We were able to see so many of the people we still think about and pray for and we were also able to worship with Hillside Church, who has been a bright spot on my spiritual map for years. And while we were there we became homesick for that place that was no longer home and friendsick for people who will remain fixtures in our lives. God has carried us and has carried on well in our lives and theirs. Our lives are resplendent with his grace.
After arriving back from CA we heard the news that an anchor within Cooper Young, Rosemary West, passed away. When Robert told us the news Barb and I both were saddened at the loss of this kind and cheerful neighbor who loved her family and who could be considered a garden-guru. She is and will continue to be missed.
A few weeks ago I was driving through the east side of our neighborhood and noticed that the house of an acquaintance was for sale. They had bought the house about the same time we bought ours and we were nevertheless surprised by the for sale sign. Barb called Jamilia and Jamilia let us know of their going away party, which we went to last night. There were people we had meet before, had dinner with or had seen at other parties. We were laughing, meeting, eating and drinking with strangers who are neighbors, who seemed to be enjoying a nice evening with Jamilia and Simon and their extended network. By the end of the night emails promised and cell numbers given, hand shakes and see-you-laters, drop on bys and give us a calls. You've had this happen too; I'm not living a surreal life. It's very common.
Though common, don't you think our human experience is so mysterious and captivating--the bonds we make, the importance of saying good bye, the crucial nature of letting go, of being willing to start over or of simply saying, "I'm so glad I met someone like you."? I absolutely believe that this shows us a facet of the brilliance of God. We long for deep, enriching relationships because we are created by a relational God. It's in our spiritual dna; we can't help it. It helps us.
Relational: interesting to think about how God reaches us with his grace. It is rarely through a dream, though I've had that happen, but only once. It is rarely through a miraculous sign. It is more often than not through another person. I mean, think about, for centuries God had been speaking through prophets and holy men and writing things on parchment and then finally he dressed himself in skin and moved into the neighborhood and we called him Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us.
No matter what prestige I put upon the Word of God (and I place a lot), God seems to also incarnate grace to me through others-- even in the little sparkly eyes of an infant, the wily smile of a two-year-old, or the weathered face of an elderly friend. It is much more than human companionship, it is the truth that when I look at another I see the handiwork and genius of God whose character and love has more glimmering angles than a diamond.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Anemic, Imitative, Impoverished
Perhaps it is due to the new smell of fatherhood that now permeates me or the fact that I am now what I considered at twenty-three to be "old" (30), but I have become thoroughly grouchy in regards to popular culture lately. Need I say more than faux hawk, Paris in and out of jail, and now the Spice Girls might, just might, rejoin for a world tour. And all of this made major headlines on "Yahoo."
Yet that is not what bothers me the most. Several years ago I stopped going to a major Christian bookstore because it was filled not with books about Christ-centered theology or developing one's faith, but was frothfully filled with holy trinkets: necklaces, "Christian picture frames," items here and there that were intellectually and artistically anemic. There was no John Owens, Calvin, Luther, and really nothing dating back beyond the last 20 years, except the NIV Bibles for sale. I agree with whoever said it first, "Christian culture doesn't battle pop culture; it is pop culture." Mindless and soulless. And I also agree with historian Mark Noll, "the scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is so little of the evangelical mind." It is a parallel sub-culture that is almost entirely imitative.
I do not consider myself a sociologist of any sort but over the last several years I've noticed this talk of "transforming culture" and yet I am becoming more convinced that today's superficial Christianity is incapable of producing a rich, thriving, transformative, deep culture. And the question I have is how do we plant a church in Midtown Memphis that is intellectually, artistically, relationally, and spiritually sound? That produces more than spiritual consumers who want to shop the "spiritual mall" of what passes for church these days? That produces followers of Jesus who discern the world they are in and who don't seek to disassociate from it? I mean, isn't it true that when Christians cocoon themselves from culture, they actually violate the example and teaching of Jesus and limit his ability to work through them to produce a rich, intoxicating, vibrant and deep culture?
And then there is this squishy kind of spiritual stuff going on in churches where if one is definite on a theological topic--that is, if one has a conviction borne out of facts and not feelings--one is seen as intolerant or judgmental or close-minded. We want a God who doesn't demand anything of us and that is quintessentially narcissistic. C.S. Lewis said it pointedly when he said, "We don't want God to be Father, we want him to be Grandfather." Dick Staub writes that Christian teens and, I'd say, other age groups, "believe in an uninvolved, undemanding God who is watching everything from above and is drawn into their lives rarely and only if necessary. In such a world, religion is inclusive yet peripheral, beliefs are held inarticulately and loosely, and each individual is the arbiter of what is true for them; there is no right answer. 'Who am I to judge?' they might ask."
Is it true that the rich presence of God will only be found by those who seek with the aim of finding? Is it true that today most of what is called spiritual searching is in fact a sham and a vain exercise? Do we seek and not find because we seek a God who will improve our life and make us happy without making us uncomfortable by making demands on us?
I read last night in Culturally Savvy Christian, "Each of us must decide whether we will embrace a real existence by undertaking a rigorous pilgrimage toward wellness or settle into a pseudo-existence by being satisfied with the shallowness and spiritual impoverishment of the typical life."
Anyone ever had these thoughts?
Yet that is not what bothers me the most. Several years ago I stopped going to a major Christian bookstore because it was filled not with books about Christ-centered theology or developing one's faith, but was frothfully filled with holy trinkets: necklaces, "Christian picture frames," items here and there that were intellectually and artistically anemic. There was no John Owens, Calvin, Luther, and really nothing dating back beyond the last 20 years, except the NIV Bibles for sale. I agree with whoever said it first, "Christian culture doesn't battle pop culture; it is pop culture." Mindless and soulless. And I also agree with historian Mark Noll, "the scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is so little of the evangelical mind." It is a parallel sub-culture that is almost entirely imitative.
I do not consider myself a sociologist of any sort but over the last several years I've noticed this talk of "transforming culture" and yet I am becoming more convinced that today's superficial Christianity is incapable of producing a rich, thriving, transformative, deep culture. And the question I have is how do we plant a church in Midtown Memphis that is intellectually, artistically, relationally, and spiritually sound? That produces more than spiritual consumers who want to shop the "spiritual mall" of what passes for church these days? That produces followers of Jesus who discern the world they are in and who don't seek to disassociate from it? I mean, isn't it true that when Christians cocoon themselves from culture, they actually violate the example and teaching of Jesus and limit his ability to work through them to produce a rich, intoxicating, vibrant and deep culture?
And then there is this squishy kind of spiritual stuff going on in churches where if one is definite on a theological topic--that is, if one has a conviction borne out of facts and not feelings--one is seen as intolerant or judgmental or close-minded. We want a God who doesn't demand anything of us and that is quintessentially narcissistic. C.S. Lewis said it pointedly when he said, "We don't want God to be Father, we want him to be Grandfather." Dick Staub writes that Christian teens and, I'd say, other age groups, "believe in an uninvolved, undemanding God who is watching everything from above and is drawn into their lives rarely and only if necessary. In such a world, religion is inclusive yet peripheral, beliefs are held inarticulately and loosely, and each individual is the arbiter of what is true for them; there is no right answer. 'Who am I to judge?' they might ask."
Is it true that the rich presence of God will only be found by those who seek with the aim of finding? Is it true that today most of what is called spiritual searching is in fact a sham and a vain exercise? Do we seek and not find because we seek a God who will improve our life and make us happy without making us uncomfortable by making demands on us?
I read last night in Culturally Savvy Christian, "Each of us must decide whether we will embrace a real existence by undertaking a rigorous pilgrimage toward wellness or settle into a pseudo-existence by being satisfied with the shallowness and spiritual impoverishment of the typical life."
Anyone ever had these thoughts?
Monday, June 04, 2007
Hoping for the Best 4 Hours of My Life
This Wednesday is a momentous day for the Elder family here on Felix Avenue. That is the day we board an airplane and fly toward the Pacific and introduce Violet to California for the first time. We are there for Shawn and Loren's wedding and will making a lot of effort to see our other friends.
Everything has worked out: credit card miles providing us with 1.5 free tickets, a home to stay
in not far from the wedding venue, free transportation and the honor of speaking at Hillside Church on Sunday morning. Now we are hoping the luck continues with Violet and the flight, a direct flight totaling 4 hours. We are, like the title says, hoping and praying for the best 4 hours of our lives (8 hours if we include the return). And if we have the best 4 hours then those seated around us will have a good 4 hours, which when you add 4 hours per person around us that totals close to 70 good hours. You see, we're not selfish with our prayers. We are praying that God would bless us and through us bless others 4, 16, 32, yea, 72 hours-fold.
Here's a pic of Violet and my Mom from our visit a few weeks back.
Friday, May 18, 2007
One Rod, 2 Things
I don't know what's up lately but it seems like I've been a lightning rod of sorts lately. Indulge me. I decide that I'm going to pull some weeds, clear growth from around our fence and WALA, a few days later I am stricken--horribly, horribly stricken--with poison ivy. It appears on my side and spreads like butter across my torso, complete right forearm and right leg. Really fun stuff. Imagine the most itchy clothes you've ever put on. Now imagine someone setting you on fire instead. See, maybe poison ivy's just not that bad!? It has led me to my first dose of steroids. Perhaps many Major League Baseball Players have just been doing yard work the past decade. Hmm.
Then, as noted by a post a few weeks ago, my "y" key on my keyboard is jacked up. It kept falling off and I made a comment about how living without one letter is more difficult than ou would think.
Tonight I'm at that savory, culturally enlightening environment called Wal-Mart to get some lotion that would prevent me from getting horrible rashes due to exposure to pollen from poison ivy. I am approaching Poison Ivy with the Bush-doctrine approach: I will preemptively seek to attack it before it attacks me; I will bombard it with Roundup and the best choppers (or garden shears) gift cards can buy. I will them walk into the house and say, "Mission Accomplished," only to later find out that poison ivy is still considered toxic and potentially damaging up to five years after you've mutilated it.
After exiting Wal-Mart I was greeted at my car by a guy who saying, "That lady in the Cadillac hit my car and slung my car into yours." She's okay; so is her kid. Everyone's okay. So I chilled with them for a nice hour, on the phone with claims, and chatting it up with the officer doing the police report. My car's been hit more times that Whitney Houston, so this is an old bag for me. So, looks like Jason is getting a new bumper for Father's day.
But honestly, nothing like coming home to a great meal, a good looking wife and a daughter that's healthy and beautiful. I'm also a lightning rod for blessing.
Then, as noted by a post a few weeks ago, my "y" key on my keyboard is jacked up. It kept falling off and I made a comment about how living without one letter is more difficult than ou would think.
Tonight I'm at that savory, culturally enlightening environment called Wal-Mart to get some lotion that would prevent me from getting horrible rashes due to exposure to pollen from poison ivy. I am approaching Poison Ivy with the Bush-doctrine approach: I will preemptively seek to attack it before it attacks me; I will bombard it with Roundup and the best choppers (or garden shears) gift cards can buy. I will them walk into the house and say, "Mission Accomplished," only to later find out that poison ivy is still considered toxic and potentially damaging up to five years after you've mutilated it.
After exiting Wal-Mart I was greeted at my car by a guy who saying, "That lady in the Cadillac hit my car and slung my car into yours." She's okay; so is her kid. Everyone's okay. So I chilled with them for a nice hour, on the phone with claims, and chatting it up with the officer doing the police report. My car's been hit more times that Whitney Houston, so this is an old bag for me. So, looks like Jason is getting a new bumper for Father's day.
But honestly, nothing like coming home to a great meal, a good looking wife and a daughter that's healthy and beautiful. I'm also a lightning rod for blessing.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
A Derby, Blush and 2 Uncomfortable Moments
Today we went over Dave and Miriam's for the Kentucky Derby--a day of firsts. The Queen. Mint Juleps. Swanky hats. Bow ties. Street Sense. That Chocolate dessert. Violet's entrance into our friendships here. She's not good with small talk yet but she likes to bounce.
Hard to believe that it's been three weeks of fatherhood. Funny to think it but it seems to feel like she just belongs with us, like she's been a part of us since Barb and I spent that birthday party on the beach, after which I bumbled around and finally asked her for a date. Hemming and Hawing, as they say. "I was wondering. I mean. If you wanted. I was thinking. You know Friday night is coming in a few days and . . . I'm a nerd and I'm acting a fool but you gotta eat, so why eat along? I mean, along. Why eat alone? If you don't eat with me then we'll both go hungry." That whole scene still makes me blush a little. Ask Barb to tell you. Okay. I'm over that now.
I finding myself in the middle of a few books right now that I'm really enjoying. I've been moving slowly through the denseness that is Ernest Becker. It's rewarding. Harold Kushner, rabbi in New York, has some interesting thoughts about forgiveness, the types of loves (plural) God gives us, and the life of Jacob. I don't necessarily agree or see everything that he sees but it is intriguing nonetheless. Just finished Andy Stanley's book on how to communicate better, which I could surely use (see second paragraph with pink in it). I just got my copy of my favorite journal so I'm spending time with those people, reading about one topic I'm absolutely fascinated with, and then there's this whole concept of Ars Moriendi, "The Art of Dying." I've been camping out with it for a while, mulling it over, trying to integrate it, give it some glue.
An aside but perhaps the impromptu purpose of this post, here's my philosophy on reading. My time is valuable. I shouldn't waste it. I have too much information flying at me, nagging me for attention, not to mention those freakin' task reminders Outlook keeps throwing up in my face. Holy Cow, if it's 6 weeks overdue shouldn't this software get the hint that I'm not interested in pricing light fixtures? Anyway, I'm not interested in reading just to know. I search to read something, break it down into digestible pieces and then take it in. I might spend, believe it or not, six months or so with a book, even a brief one--writing notes, arguing with it, letting it sit and stare at me. I think one of the biggest myths is that we need to know everything (lesson from Steve Samples in Contrarian's Guide to L'ship), especially when it comes to ministry and the spiritual life (lesson from experience). Let's face it, you probably have enough Bible facts crammed into your head to choke the Scarlet Whore. Our problem, ech um, I'll speak for myself, my problem is that I need to integrate it into my life. We have enough information already. We need people who will help us synthesize it not add to it.
Simply said, about to make this conversation circular, we not only need book sense, we also need Street Sense. We need theory and practice, and friends from what I've read, when I stand to give an account of my life I'll not be asked about my theories and that is really something to blush about.
Hard to believe that it's been three weeks of fatherhood. Funny to think it but it seems to feel like she just belongs with us, like she's been a part of us since Barb and I spent that birthday party on the beach, after which I bumbled around and finally asked her for a date. Hemming and Hawing, as they say. "I was wondering. I mean. If you wanted. I was thinking. You know Friday night is coming in a few days and . . . I'm a nerd and I'm acting a fool but you gotta eat, so why eat along? I mean, along. Why eat alone? If you don't eat with me then we'll both go hungry." That whole scene still makes me blush a little. Ask Barb to tell you. Okay. I'm over that now.
I finding myself in the middle of a few books right now that I'm really enjoying. I've been moving slowly through the denseness that is Ernest Becker. It's rewarding. Harold Kushner, rabbi in New York, has some interesting thoughts about forgiveness, the types of loves (plural) God gives us, and the life of Jacob. I don't necessarily agree or see everything that he sees but it is intriguing nonetheless. Just finished Andy Stanley's book on how to communicate better, which I could surely use (see second paragraph with pink in it). I just got my copy of my favorite journal so I'm spending time with those people, reading about one topic I'm absolutely fascinated with, and then there's this whole concept of Ars Moriendi, "The Art of Dying." I've been camping out with it for a while, mulling it over, trying to integrate it, give it some glue.
An aside but perhaps the impromptu purpose of this post, here's my philosophy on reading. My time is valuable. I shouldn't waste it. I have too much information flying at me, nagging me for attention, not to mention those freakin' task reminders Outlook keeps throwing up in my face. Holy Cow, if it's 6 weeks overdue shouldn't this software get the hint that I'm not interested in pricing light fixtures? Anyway, I'm not interested in reading just to know. I search to read something, break it down into digestible pieces and then take it in. I might spend, believe it or not, six months or so with a book, even a brief one--writing notes, arguing with it, letting it sit and stare at me. I think one of the biggest myths is that we need to know everything (lesson from Steve Samples in Contrarian's Guide to L'ship), especially when it comes to ministry and the spiritual life (lesson from experience). Let's face it, you probably have enough Bible facts crammed into your head to choke the Scarlet Whore. Our problem, ech um, I'll speak for myself, my problem is that I need to integrate it into my life. We have enough information already. We need people who will help us synthesize it not add to it.
Simply said, about to make this conversation circular, we not only need book sense, we also need Street Sense. We need theory and practice, and friends from what I've read, when I stand to give an account of my life I'll not be asked about my theories and that is really something to blush about.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Violet
Violet Simone Elder
I thought I was finished with all-nighters when I graduated seminary. Not so. Not so at all.
Last Wednesday the alarm clock went off and, as is our custom, we snoozed once. I rolled over and Barb looks at me and says, "I've been having contractions for 2 hours."
"Well, I'm awake now!"
She went to work and got home about 11 and I finished up a meeting and got home around 1. We took a walk around the block to help the contractions increase. Boy, did that work! We arrived at the hospital at 430pm, some twelve hours after the contractions began. Germantown Methodist Hospital astounded us with their knowledge, efficiency and care. It gave us confidence in the midst of all that is called "Labor and Delivery."
Barb was fantastic and must have one of the greatest levels of pain tolerance I've ever seen, perhaps rivaling that of Jack Bauer or Curly on the 3 Stooges. We felt so blessed that Barb was able to go natural. Dr. Anderson said, "Violet was good to your body." Barb and I were musing one early morning how much pain she had been in but yet knew that c-sections were so much worse. Blessings. Blessings. Blessings. Oh, and coffee.
Several people said, "Look at Violet now and remember her, because in two weeks she will look like a different baby." So I've decided to take a picture of her a day for at least two weeks just to see the development. Besides her skull bones are floating according to the doc, so it'll be interesting to see her head move toward pangea.
Six pounds, 10 ounces and 20'' of greatness.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Where Nothing is Missing
Alrightie, it seems earlt in the morning (it reallt isn't) but I'm feelint the hankering to blurt out some thoughts about a subject that has been circling the airport for a while. Bt the wat, it is quite difficult to blurt out something via blog because it takes cranking up ole Lappt 3000, loggint in, and clicking away, which has been more difficult since mt "y" key cover came off the other day. Tou don't reallt know how much tou miss one letter until tou are forced to work without it. I promise tou this: below tou are going to find some messy, clangt thoughts, but I hope to get it out in at least one sentence. So without further adieu . . .
Believe it or not Walmart, or as most in the South say, "tha Walmart," plays a significant role in my spiritual formation. It was my last year in college and I was seeking/praying about what I should do next. Should I seek a job pastoring somewhere (thoughts had led me all over the region), just find a job and recover from college or move to California and start seminary (which is what I decided to do)? I was rebounding from a series of bad decisions over a few bad years and 0ne night after hanging out with some friends in New Albany--I think it was David, Danyel, Wint and Vicki--I found myself standing in the middle of WalMart wondering why I was even there. I didn't need groceries, didn't need music, didn't need clothes, and didn't need a 50-pack of Wrigley's gum. I remember kinda snappin' out of it and saying to myself, "Something feels like it's missing. What am I looking for?"
I subsequently had a few speaking opportunities with a number of student groups and began talking about this and in every group I heard responses like, "Yeah, me too." Those responses were also coming from the older adults present.
But why is this? Why is it that when we gaze up at the stars from time to time there is this feeling deep within that we have trouble articulating? Why is it that our hearts burn when we hear our favorite song? Why is it that when we read something good we keep it, re-read it, bookmark it, print it out, or print it in our journal? What are we striving for? Is it because something is missing? I mean, haven't you walked down your block, looked up at that tree that you've seen so many times and said, in an instance, "I've never seen such beauty."
I assume that since I am an average person that you too or others like you may have felt this way before.
This past weekend our church went away to a ranch about an hour from here. We were able to listen to one another, ask questions, and get to some good stuff. I think we did some good work as we talked about how God has graced us with various giftings for the common good, about loving Jesus but hating "the church," (another topic for another time) and had some points in our worship where there was some vulnerability and truth.
Sunday morning I looked out of the kitchen window as the cabin was quiet with peaceful rest and the fog was sitting in layers over the water and hillside. The coffee pot's stomach was growling and I picked up a magazine I'm reading in which there is an interview with a former novice under Thomas Merton. At this point in the story Merton has died and the interviewee is speaking about Merton's disposition, "I asked myself, 'Why is this place holy ground for me?' And I realized it wasn't because the man who lived in this place had the answers; he never claimed to have the answers. It wasn't because he did it right; he never claimed to do it right. He never said, 'Do it like this.' But, rather, I think he gave witness to the ultimate irrelevancy of our failures and shortcomings when we live in the radical confidence in God's love for us, which implies the moral imperative of doing your honest best to work on those things."
It was then as the morning was young and the were mistakes old that the fog lifted and I said, "Nothing is missing here."
Believe it or not Walmart, or as most in the South say, "tha Walmart," plays a significant role in my spiritual formation. It was my last year in college and I was seeking/praying about what I should do next. Should I seek a job pastoring somewhere (thoughts had led me all over the region), just find a job and recover from college or move to California and start seminary (which is what I decided to do)? I was rebounding from a series of bad decisions over a few bad years and 0ne night after hanging out with some friends in New Albany--I think it was David, Danyel, Wint and Vicki--I found myself standing in the middle of WalMart wondering why I was even there. I didn't need groceries, didn't need music, didn't need clothes, and didn't need a 50-pack of Wrigley's gum. I remember kinda snappin' out of it and saying to myself, "Something feels like it's missing. What am I looking for?"
I subsequently had a few speaking opportunities with a number of student groups and began talking about this and in every group I heard responses like, "Yeah, me too." Those responses were also coming from the older adults present.
But why is this? Why is it that when we gaze up at the stars from time to time there is this feeling deep within that we have trouble articulating? Why is it that our hearts burn when we hear our favorite song? Why is it that when we read something good we keep it, re-read it, bookmark it, print it out, or print it in our journal? What are we striving for? Is it because something is missing? I mean, haven't you walked down your block, looked up at that tree that you've seen so many times and said, in an instance, "I've never seen such beauty."
I assume that since I am an average person that you too or others like you may have felt this way before.
This past weekend our church went away to a ranch about an hour from here. We were able to listen to one another, ask questions, and get to some good stuff. I think we did some good work as we talked about how God has graced us with various giftings for the common good, about loving Jesus but hating "the church," (another topic for another time) and had some points in our worship where there was some vulnerability and truth.
Sunday morning I looked out of the kitchen window as the cabin was quiet with peaceful rest and the fog was sitting in layers over the water and hillside. The coffee pot's stomach was growling and I picked up a magazine I'm reading in which there is an interview with a former novice under Thomas Merton. At this point in the story Merton has died and the interviewee is speaking about Merton's disposition, "I asked myself, 'Why is this place holy ground for me?' And I realized it wasn't because the man who lived in this place had the answers; he never claimed to have the answers. It wasn't because he did it right; he never claimed to do it right. He never said, 'Do it like this.' But, rather, I think he gave witness to the ultimate irrelevancy of our failures and shortcomings when we live in the radical confidence in God's love for us, which implies the moral imperative of doing your honest best to work on those things."
It was then as the morning was young and the were mistakes old that the fog lifted and I said, "Nothing is missing here."
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Much to say
Just f.y.i., I've never allowed myself to be censored and at times I have been known to cross lines and been a little liberal with my speech and writing. I want to state for the record that I have been prevented by the powers that be from posting any visual representation of Barb being pregnant. She says it's dumb and she's fat. I say it's elegant and that, of course, she's bigger because she has a human inside of her--head, shoulders, knees and toes.
Soon and very soon we will be seeing our daughter. Can't really imagine what that'd be like. Just visited my old friend's myspace page and saw his two boys and 6 month old daughter. Quite a family.
Trying my hand at gardening this time around. I'm growing about a dozen or so strawberry plants, which are doing quite well, watermelon, bell pepper and something else I can't remember. I guess I should throw away the seed pouches so quickly. Well, if you see me on the news you'll know it was the forbidden plant.
Much is going on but it's too much to say right now. Learning brand new things--home ownership, starting over in an unfamiliar city, becoming a better pastor/teacher, starting insurance business too, and becoming a daddy. I think this is the perfect time for a vacation . . .or to grow a forbidden plant.
Soon and very soon we will be seeing our daughter. Can't really imagine what that'd be like. Just visited my old friend's myspace page and saw his two boys and 6 month old daughter. Quite a family.
Trying my hand at gardening this time around. I'm growing about a dozen or so strawberry plants, which are doing quite well, watermelon, bell pepper and something else I can't remember. I guess I should throw away the seed pouches so quickly. Well, if you see me on the news you'll know it was the forbidden plant.
Much is going on but it's too much to say right now. Learning brand new things--home ownership, starting over in an unfamiliar city, becoming a better pastor/teacher, starting insurance business too, and becoming a daddy. I think this is the perfect time for a vacation . . .or to grow a forbidden plant.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Omni-Gracious
The Bible says that God is omni-present, that is to say, that God is everywhere at once. This to me is astounding in and of itself, but when I think about the graciousness of God it makes it even more so. For if God is gracious and God is omni-present then that means that God is with us not matter the circumstances. God is with us when we worship, when we work, when we need consoling, when we need encouragement or even when we do wrong. God is there, waiting, patiently waiting.
That is not to say that God is not disturbed by our wrong doing. The Bible clearly states that our wrong doing, our sin interrupts our relationship with him. Just as I can't be with my wife in the closest sense relationally and at the same time be rude, arrogant or condescending to her, so it is with our relationship with God. But God doesn't walk away. He doesn't hide. We do that. We do that just like Adam and Eve did. We are afraid of someone knowing us completely, sin/warts and all. We hide out of fear, shame and/or guilt. Yet God habitually comes to Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, even after he knows they have sinned, to converse with them.
Could it be that we could actually take such a risk and be known, utterly known by someone, even God, and still not be weighed down by guilt? But we put on the veil and mask ourselves. We maintain the veil that separates us from God like the Old Testament picture of the Temple, that gigantic curtain separating us from the holiest of places? Interesting that at the substitutionary, atoning, reconciling death of Jesus, Scripture states that the curtain was ripped from top to bottom to signify that God himself was stepping out from the veil to be with us. Hebrews says that we have an anchor behind the veil/curtain and that it is Jesus. No hands are big enough to remove that curtain except the benevolent hands of God. God wants to be known. He is in his nature one who reveals. The Apostle Paul calls Jesus the "mustarion," the "open secret." And God wants to know us.
That's so profound. Some people want to be free. Some want to be known. I think that all want to be both to some degree--to be known and free. That to me is the beauty of it: it can be, it should be, it is.
That is not to say that God is not disturbed by our wrong doing. The Bible clearly states that our wrong doing, our sin interrupts our relationship with him. Just as I can't be with my wife in the closest sense relationally and at the same time be rude, arrogant or condescending to her, so it is with our relationship with God. But God doesn't walk away. He doesn't hide. We do that. We do that just like Adam and Eve did. We are afraid of someone knowing us completely, sin/warts and all. We hide out of fear, shame and/or guilt. Yet God habitually comes to Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, even after he knows they have sinned, to converse with them.
Could it be that we could actually take such a risk and be known, utterly known by someone, even God, and still not be weighed down by guilt? But we put on the veil and mask ourselves. We maintain the veil that separates us from God like the Old Testament picture of the Temple, that gigantic curtain separating us from the holiest of places? Interesting that at the substitutionary, atoning, reconciling death of Jesus, Scripture states that the curtain was ripped from top to bottom to signify that God himself was stepping out from the veil to be with us. Hebrews says that we have an anchor behind the veil/curtain and that it is Jesus. No hands are big enough to remove that curtain except the benevolent hands of God. God wants to be known. He is in his nature one who reveals. The Apostle Paul calls Jesus the "mustarion," the "open secret." And God wants to know us.
That's so profound. Some people want to be free. Some want to be known. I think that all want to be both to some degree--to be known and free. That to me is the beauty of it: it can be, it should be, it is.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The Lost Art
Thursday was Barb's birthday. She is very young still. Her parents drove down from Plattsburg, Mo to be here and to help us with a home project. They are very giving, self-sacrificing individuals. I have known them for 6 years and they have consistently proven this. I am very blessed and thankful to have in-laws of this stature. We sent them off last night completely appreciative of the time well-spent with them. Can't wake 'til we see them again. The next time we see them they will have another grand-daughter.
During our prepared birth class on Thursday night we took a tour of our hospital, Germantown Methodist. We have been impressed with the class, hospital and doctors, oops, I mean "health care providers" thus far. There are about 15 other couples in the class: some beaming with excitement and others already tired with the preparatory work that is necessary. It is great to be surrounded by such excited people, each couple encouraging the other, swapping war stories. I can imagine that more stories will come.
The due date is April 17, so we are only 6 or 7 weeks away from Violet's birth. We are so excited and nervous! The thought of having the child, staying in the hospital for a few days and then being allowed to go home with the child seems like it should be illegal! Wait! I haven't done this before. Are you kidding? You should send her home with someone who is experienced! Ha.
Some people have said to us, "Oh, just wait. Your life will change so much. You won't get any sleep . . ." They go on to list several negative things about parenting. I know that their words are well meant, but I wonder why they think we haven't considered that yet, as if we get a lot of sleep now or haven't suspected that things will change. We have seen many friends have children and have seen their selfless giving in order to rear their child. It is not like we are living on a deserted island where no children dwell. The typical situation in some cases is that they highlight the negative and hard aspects but then say, "Oh, but it's worth it . . ."
This is the same thing that occurred when we were engaged. Numerous people felt like they needed to say, "Marriage is extremely difficult . . .but it's worth it." Most of these people, then and now, are believers and seem to not grasp the Scriptural concept of rejoicing with those who rejoice. I just don't get it. Why must there be so much party-poop from these people? Perhaps these people are frustrated and tired and want their sacrifices known, which is understandable. But to pile a bunch of negativity when we are celebrative is not only inappropriate but rude, calloused, and stupid. At times it seems like parents talk down to couples without children like married couples seem to talk down to singles who are engaged. I just don't get it.
There have been bright spots, though. We have talked with several parents who rejoiced with us without turning the situation to themselves. They shared with us their joy of discovering they were pregnant, asked us questions about our experience and gave advice when asked, a lost art it seems. Through the example of these couples I have learned a lot about relationships and how to not only listen to people but to hear them as well. I hope that God shapes in me more of that and helps me rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.
During our prepared birth class on Thursday night we took a tour of our hospital, Germantown Methodist. We have been impressed with the class, hospital and doctors, oops, I mean "health care providers" thus far. There are about 15 other couples in the class: some beaming with excitement and others already tired with the preparatory work that is necessary. It is great to be surrounded by such excited people, each couple encouraging the other, swapping war stories. I can imagine that more stories will come.
The due date is April 17, so we are only 6 or 7 weeks away from Violet's birth. We are so excited and nervous! The thought of having the child, staying in the hospital for a few days and then being allowed to go home with the child seems like it should be illegal! Wait! I haven't done this before. Are you kidding? You should send her home with someone who is experienced! Ha.
Some people have said to us, "Oh, just wait. Your life will change so much. You won't get any sleep . . ." They go on to list several negative things about parenting. I know that their words are well meant, but I wonder why they think we haven't considered that yet, as if we get a lot of sleep now or haven't suspected that things will change. We have seen many friends have children and have seen their selfless giving in order to rear their child. It is not like we are living on a deserted island where no children dwell. The typical situation in some cases is that they highlight the negative and hard aspects but then say, "Oh, but it's worth it . . ."
This is the same thing that occurred when we were engaged. Numerous people felt like they needed to say, "Marriage is extremely difficult . . .but it's worth it." Most of these people, then and now, are believers and seem to not grasp the Scriptural concept of rejoicing with those who rejoice. I just don't get it. Why must there be so much party-poop from these people? Perhaps these people are frustrated and tired and want their sacrifices known, which is understandable. But to pile a bunch of negativity when we are celebrative is not only inappropriate but rude, calloused, and stupid. At times it seems like parents talk down to couples without children like married couples seem to talk down to singles who are engaged. I just don't get it.
There have been bright spots, though. We have talked with several parents who rejoiced with us without turning the situation to themselves. They shared with us their joy of discovering they were pregnant, asked us questions about our experience and gave advice when asked, a lost art it seems. Through the example of these couples I have learned a lot about relationships and how to not only listen to people but to hear them as well. I hope that God shapes in me more of that and helps me rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Snow birds and No Babies
Last night it was rain. This morning it was sleet. And now it is snow. Winter is fun here in the Mid-America because it doesn't stay around too long. It passes through in two months. I forgot how Winter can be here and also how inept Southerners are at driving in this weather.
Last night Barb and I went to our first prepared childbirth class. We went out to Germantown and sat in a cozy room in a Manor than our hospital owns. We met about 15 other couples who are due from late March to early June. It is quite fun to compare stories, see the various women all carrying their babies in their bodies in different ways. Quite interesting that as we went around the room and told everyone basic info about ourselves and then about our favorite things/worst things and greatest fears, that we are all in the same boat. The fears and worries of the women are usually body related and the fear of the guys were mostly finance related. Although I must say that we guys had to admit that we really resented the fact that the class was on Thursday nights, thus causing us to miss The Office and Scrubs.
All the dads agreed about our similar struggles and about the adaptations we're learning to make. But above anything and everything else is this--the love of my life is in pain and discomfort now and will continue to be, and I can really do nothing about it. I feel helpless. I have known for quite some time that my mom was sacrificial with her body--not just pregnancy of me, my two brothers, and my sister--but also with working, cleaning, and providing for us in the hundreds of ways moms do. But now I am seeing in differently, just how painstakingly slow the hurt and the process can be. I am truly awed by the sacrificial nature of moms. Of course, all love is sacrificial, especially the birth that leads to new life.
The baby is due April 17 and at one and the same time it is too close and too far away. Although many of our friends from California will not be here for that God has given us a whole new set of friends to share this with. It is a great thing to have caring people who will help care and influence our daughter.
Last night Barb and I went to our first prepared childbirth class. We went out to Germantown and sat in a cozy room in a Manor than our hospital owns. We met about 15 other couples who are due from late March to early June. It is quite fun to compare stories, see the various women all carrying their babies in their bodies in different ways. Quite interesting that as we went around the room and told everyone basic info about ourselves and then about our favorite things/worst things and greatest fears, that we are all in the same boat. The fears and worries of the women are usually body related and the fear of the guys were mostly finance related. Although I must say that we guys had to admit that we really resented the fact that the class was on Thursday nights, thus causing us to miss The Office and Scrubs.
All the dads agreed about our similar struggles and about the adaptations we're learning to make. But above anything and everything else is this--the love of my life is in pain and discomfort now and will continue to be, and I can really do nothing about it. I feel helpless. I have known for quite some time that my mom was sacrificial with her body--not just pregnancy of me, my two brothers, and my sister--but also with working, cleaning, and providing for us in the hundreds of ways moms do. But now I am seeing in differently, just how painstakingly slow the hurt and the process can be. I am truly awed by the sacrificial nature of moms. Of course, all love is sacrificial, especially the birth that leads to new life.
The baby is due April 17 and at one and the same time it is too close and too far away. Although many of our friends from California will not be here for that God has given us a whole new set of friends to share this with. It is a great thing to have caring people who will help care and influence our daughter.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Chattanooga, A Diversion, A Vision
Several weeks ago Barb and Mandy decided that they would spend this past weekend at a spiritual retreat in west Arkansas, which turned out to be a great experience for them both. Since I don't want to be home alone I decided that I would drive down Highway 61, which I would catch here in Memphis and take to Natchez or Vicksburg, hitting some major Delta Blues territory. I was planning on spending some time with strangers or in a very cheap motel, thinking about the next 12 months, setting goals, and praying. However, a few weeks ago I caught up with a friend via email and decided to head east.
I found myself just north of Chattanooga, spending time with 2 friends I haven't seen in about 5 years. These friends are the type where you always leave better than you did before, although that might mean you are challenged at some very deep level, though unknown to them. These are friends who have sold their house, gotten out of consumer debt, have given an enormous amount of stuff away and are seeking to move to Asia to share the love of God with people who haven't even heard the word, "Bible, Jesus, or Crispy Cream." Well, I just made up that last bit about Crispy Cream, but to them, seriously, "Jesus," makes just about as much sense. He is not even on the radar.
Several years ago I did summer missions in Vancouver, BC, an experience that really formed, in part, who I am. As I was working under one of the best pastors in Western Canada I just listened to him talk about his friends all over the world who were serving Jesus in thoughtful, genuine, and gracious ways. Deep inside I wanted that. I wanted to have friends all over the world who were serving God faithfully and sacrificially for multiple reasons, most of which are selfish. I wanted to have a global perspective with my faith. I wanted my experience and knowledge to include other nationalities. And later on, which was also rekindled this past weekend, I wanted a heart for the unreached people groups around the world. Believe it or not, there are people groups who do not have a Bible in their own language, who do not have access to the gospel, and who do not know even the word, "Jesus." Think about it: they have neither heard nor said that two syllable utterance Je-sus. And what's really troubling--even if they wanted to know about Jesus they have no way to know. Jackie Pullinger, who worked with drug addicts in Hong Kong, said it best, "They are not going to come here (the church) to hear. We must go to them."
So, I am troubled today. Here I sit in a safe house, living a safe life, in a relatively safe city with all of this going on in my heart, hoping to start a church. Is is possible for God to grow a church here that would have a heart and soul for the nations? Who would seek out God's glory in sacrificial ways? There must be. There has to be hope.
On Sunday I worshipped with my friends and we read this quote by David Brainerd, missionary to the New England Indians 250 years ago. [He subsequently died through his service to the Indians. Many forget that while some were formulating how to take more land, some were crossing cultures to serve and love]. He prayed once, "Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am."
So my plan was to go it alone--to ride and enjoy music and downloaded speeches, to see the scenery and think of me and my goals. And then God took the wheel and steered me in a completely different direction. And yet I cannot complain. I'm so thankful for friends who seek God with all of their hearts, though imperfectly at times.
I found myself just north of Chattanooga, spending time with 2 friends I haven't seen in about 5 years. These friends are the type where you always leave better than you did before, although that might mean you are challenged at some very deep level, though unknown to them. These are friends who have sold their house, gotten out of consumer debt, have given an enormous amount of stuff away and are seeking to move to Asia to share the love of God with people who haven't even heard the word, "Bible, Jesus, or Crispy Cream." Well, I just made up that last bit about Crispy Cream, but to them, seriously, "Jesus," makes just about as much sense. He is not even on the radar.
Several years ago I did summer missions in Vancouver, BC, an experience that really formed, in part, who I am. As I was working under one of the best pastors in Western Canada I just listened to him talk about his friends all over the world who were serving Jesus in thoughtful, genuine, and gracious ways. Deep inside I wanted that. I wanted to have friends all over the world who were serving God faithfully and sacrificially for multiple reasons, most of which are selfish. I wanted to have a global perspective with my faith. I wanted my experience and knowledge to include other nationalities. And later on, which was also rekindled this past weekend, I wanted a heart for the unreached people groups around the world. Believe it or not, there are people groups who do not have a Bible in their own language, who do not have access to the gospel, and who do not know even the word, "Jesus." Think about it: they have neither heard nor said that two syllable utterance Je-sus. And what's really troubling--even if they wanted to know about Jesus they have no way to know. Jackie Pullinger, who worked with drug addicts in Hong Kong, said it best, "They are not going to come here (the church) to hear. We must go to them."
So, I am troubled today. Here I sit in a safe house, living a safe life, in a relatively safe city with all of this going on in my heart, hoping to start a church. Is is possible for God to grow a church here that would have a heart and soul for the nations? Who would seek out God's glory in sacrificial ways? There must be. There has to be hope.
On Sunday I worshipped with my friends and we read this quote by David Brainerd, missionary to the New England Indians 250 years ago. [He subsequently died through his service to the Indians. Many forget that while some were formulating how to take more land, some were crossing cultures to serve and love]. He prayed once, "Lord, let me make a difference for you that is utterly disproportionate to who I am."
So my plan was to go it alone--to ride and enjoy music and downloaded speeches, to see the scenery and think of me and my goals. And then God took the wheel and steered me in a completely different direction. And yet I cannot complain. I'm so thankful for friends who seek God with all of their hearts, though imperfectly at times.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The Fog Sits Heavy
Is it possible to travel thirty years in life and wake up one day and feel lost? Is it possible to one day wake up and look in the mirror and say, "Boy, you're handsome, but you also have problems?" Don't you think it's a mystery that life's a mystery? That we can ponder infinity and yet know of our own limitations? That we can relive what has passed and project ourselves into the future (with our thoughts, of course) and modify our behaviors accordingly? And as the fog sits heavy on the trees like they are leashed to one another, I realize I need a sunrise, a guiding source, of sorts. . .something to direct me in this new year.
The past year was the hardest one in a while from forward to finish. Yet it was the most rewarding as my character was developed (in part) through grueling circumstances where I was pushed beyond my known limits, to face the truth no matter how ugly. On the last night of the year as Barb and I sat on the side of the bed with our heads resting on our hands, we both agreed that it would be best to let the old year go. It had run its course, had served its purpose, pulling the hands of the clock round and round, leaving a well-worn path around our eyes. But sometimes it's hard to let go of something that's hurt you so deeply. Perhaps that's why we stay up so late on the year's last day.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
God and the Art of Sanding Down Furniture
This past weekend was a great one. On Saturday I spent the first part of the day sanding down and refinishing our coffee table, which we acquired freely a few months ago. It had some great coffee mug stains, a purple crayon streak and a few wobbly legs. Not very troublesome for sandpaper, stain and glue. Now it sits in the same place with a better look and a better structure, at least to me.
Working down in the dungeon (our basement) has been good for me. I'm there underneath our house, looking at what lies beneath, trying to correct a woodworking problem, to make an unwanted stain disappear or simply trying to straighten something that is crooked. Just in case you think I'm romanticising--I also scream and unnecessarily pound excess wood due to my own mistakes and oversights. Oh, not to mention me grovelling on the cold, dirty basement floor right after I pounded my thumb with the hammer.
On Sunday Barb and I spent the afternoon in our living room. She napped in the winter sunlight and I finished reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I finally finished that book after years of psyching myself up for it. It didn't disappoint. There's a reason it's a classic. There's this one sentence that Marlow, the guy who is telling the story throughout the book, says that has stuck with me, "No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means." And as I read Genesis this morning--the very first book in the Bible about the very first things--I wondered if God already knew this and that is why he placed Adam and Eve in the Garden and gave them the responsibility to tend it.
As I have undertaken some major projects around the house (and other projects and other times) I have found this to be true. When I take on something like the above or even completely refinishing our hardwood floors like I did a few months ago, I am faced with what's inside me. There is no one else around. There is only me, God, and a bunch of filth. It's quite interesting--me working on the table and the floors (especially the floors)--I felt this deep connection between me and God, that we were together working. I work on the floor; he works on me. I didn't arrange it. I didn't plan or pray for it. That's just how it's been. Honestly, it's like that because God has outsmarted me, but that's a conversation for another time.
Working down in the dungeon (our basement) has been good for me. I'm there underneath our house, looking at what lies beneath, trying to correct a woodworking problem, to make an unwanted stain disappear or simply trying to straighten something that is crooked. Just in case you think I'm romanticising--I also scream and unnecessarily pound excess wood due to my own mistakes and oversights. Oh, not to mention me grovelling on the cold, dirty basement floor right after I pounded my thumb with the hammer.
On Sunday Barb and I spent the afternoon in our living room. She napped in the winter sunlight and I finished reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I finally finished that book after years of psyching myself up for it. It didn't disappoint. There's a reason it's a classic. There's this one sentence that Marlow, the guy who is telling the story throughout the book, says that has stuck with me, "No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means." And as I read Genesis this morning--the very first book in the Bible about the very first things--I wondered if God already knew this and that is why he placed Adam and Eve in the Garden and gave them the responsibility to tend it.
As I have undertaken some major projects around the house (and other projects and other times) I have found this to be true. When I take on something like the above or even completely refinishing our hardwood floors like I did a few months ago, I am faced with what's inside me. There is no one else around. There is only me, God, and a bunch of filth. It's quite interesting--me working on the table and the floors (especially the floors)--I felt this deep connection between me and God, that we were together working. I work on the floor; he works on me. I didn't arrange it. I didn't plan or pray for it. That's just how it's been. Honestly, it's like that because God has outsmarted me, but that's a conversation for another time.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Becker, Warren and a Little Girl
I guess there is a lot on my mind lately. Barb is plumping up with child and is giving that Thanksgiving turkey a run for its money. Although she might cost more per pound; I'll have to look at the insurance bills. Along those same lines is the very fact that within the body of my bride is another. That for the past 18 or 19 weeks her heart has been beating 160 beats per minute as her developing body needs more nutrients, more blood, and more oxygen. At the same time my wife's rib cage is expanding as her lungs are growing so that she herself can produce for our child more nutrients, more blood and more oxygen. That this week our little girl is growing her epidermis, which has been determined by her Creator, fingerprints established, freckles and tone. It's astonishing that she is working alongside God right now, so to speak, fulfilling the requirements of external life. Even further, within my bride is our little girl and within our little girl are all the eggs she will have for the rest of her life. Our grandchildren are literally within my wife and girl at the same time. All of this is imprinted into her; she knows what to do though she cannot articulate a single sentence. It is almost as if God had arranged everything for us to do without us ever really knowing we are doing it, and without our consent or input, as is my case.
At the same time as my child, my wife and my burgeoning fixation on the creativity and ingenuity of God, are two books that have completely demolished and renovated my thoughts on human nature, life, death, and eternity: The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker and Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I rarely find myself in the new releases portion of any bookstore. I don't really go for new when it comes to a lot of things, books especially. I try to find classics, something with time-tested value that has an enduring reputation. Even with church planting and some pastoral or leadership issues I don't go for the newest glossy paperback. I go to pastors dead and gone, theologians who shook and shaped their cities or countries and who could also shape me if I were as willing. Becker wrote The Denial of Death in 1973 and subsequently received The Pulitzer Prize. Warren wrote his book only four years ago, but it has remained atop the New York Times best-seller list for multiple years (175 weeks as of May of this year). So his book is relatively new but has major cultural influence today.
This is all I can write right now, as the content of the books are staggering. Eevery paragraph in Warren's book could be a paragraph to live by. Likewise, in Becker's work there are certain pages that latch on to you and force you down to the ground, wrestle with you, and later become some of your best companions. Though Becker was a cultural anthropologist who spent his life gathering and synthesizing multi-disciplinary thoughts about the "why of existence" and Warren ,a pastor, theologian and humanitarian, seem quite opposite on the surface they both have some astounding cohesiveness. Both agree that each one of us has a desire for immortality, a desire to live and have influence beyond our own years, that we have an intense inner yearning for life and self-expression, but that we all fear life and we all fear death. They both agree that satisfaction in life comes not when we focus on self but when we ultimately surrender to God everything we've been trying to build for our own glory and immortality. It's like the Scripture says, "God has placed eternity in the hearts of everyone."
Recently a friend sent me an email and within that email was a line that was stuck in my brain like a splinter, "Do not fear that your life will end, but that it will never truly start." And so, I sit with Becker and Warren, fighting, feuding, sparring with them in a pugilistic three-for-all, and I am the better for it.
Anyway, thanks for listening to the rambling--perhaps a few paragraphs too long. I hope to build a document with quotes and cross references with the both of these guys as I feel it is at the base of any teaching that I'd give from Scripture. Alright now, stay warm and safe.
Jason
At the same time as my child, my wife and my burgeoning fixation on the creativity and ingenuity of God, are two books that have completely demolished and renovated my thoughts on human nature, life, death, and eternity: The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker and Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. I rarely find myself in the new releases portion of any bookstore. I don't really go for new when it comes to a lot of things, books especially. I try to find classics, something with time-tested value that has an enduring reputation. Even with church planting and some pastoral or leadership issues I don't go for the newest glossy paperback. I go to pastors dead and gone, theologians who shook and shaped their cities or countries and who could also shape me if I were as willing. Becker wrote The Denial of Death in 1973 and subsequently received The Pulitzer Prize. Warren wrote his book only four years ago, but it has remained atop the New York Times best-seller list for multiple years (175 weeks as of May of this year). So his book is relatively new but has major cultural influence today.
This is all I can write right now, as the content of the books are staggering. Eevery paragraph in Warren's book could be a paragraph to live by. Likewise, in Becker's work there are certain pages that latch on to you and force you down to the ground, wrestle with you, and later become some of your best companions. Though Becker was a cultural anthropologist who spent his life gathering and synthesizing multi-disciplinary thoughts about the "why of existence" and Warren ,a pastor, theologian and humanitarian, seem quite opposite on the surface they both have some astounding cohesiveness. Both agree that each one of us has a desire for immortality, a desire to live and have influence beyond our own years, that we have an intense inner yearning for life and self-expression, but that we all fear life and we all fear death. They both agree that satisfaction in life comes not when we focus on self but when we ultimately surrender to God everything we've been trying to build for our own glory and immortality. It's like the Scripture says, "God has placed eternity in the hearts of everyone."
Recently a friend sent me an email and within that email was a line that was stuck in my brain like a splinter, "Do not fear that your life will end, but that it will never truly start." And so, I sit with Becker and Warren, fighting, feuding, sparring with them in a pugilistic three-for-all, and I am the better for it.
Anyway, thanks for listening to the rambling--perhaps a few paragraphs too long. I hope to build a document with quotes and cross references with the both of these guys as I feel it is at the base of any teaching that I'd give from Scripture. Alright now, stay warm and safe.
Jason
Monday, November 13, 2006
Mystery
Ah, this time next week I'll be figuratively spiking a football in the endzone of certainty as we find out if it's a boy, girl, or monster. I have been wanting a girl, however, in the second or third week of finding out Barb was pregnant, my gut instinct said, "boy." Barb's instinct says "boy" to, which is better than, "boy, two."
So, it's great to live in a mystery right now. However, I know that when I find out if it's a boy or girl the mystery will get only more profound. As Barb was talking to me on our weekend drive a few days ago, she said, "Jason, I was just looking at my hair and thinking about what color our kid's is going to be. I have no power to make it one way or the other. God has decided and God is deciding a lot about our kid without asking or letting us know. Isn't it great?!"
So, it's great to live in a mystery right now. However, I know that when I find out if it's a boy or girl the mystery will get only more profound. As Barb was talking to me on our weekend drive a few days ago, she said, "Jason, I was just looking at my hair and thinking about what color our kid's is going to be. I have no power to make it one way or the other. God has decided and God is deciding a lot about our kid without asking or letting us know. Isn't it great?!"
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