Boldness (or "the lost art of nose picking")

I desire to be a bold person, to speak out against injustice and declare truth even when the whole world stands against me. I want to defy conventions and rebel against the status quo that exists purely for the sake of existing. I like to think I am bold. I've spent my life reading about bold men in the Bible and playing with action figures that typified boldness. So I know a thing or two about it. But I admit I am not always the boldest crayon in the box (that works right?).

This whole idea comes out of left field I will admit it. I haven't thought on the topic of boldness or reflected on my personal level or ranking on said topic in some time. But the thought came screaming out to me two days ago when I saw the greatest display of boldness since Teddy Roosevelt dug that huge hole in Panama.

But before we discuss that, a tangent:

The other night I was hanging out with some friends when a girl quickly stuck her finger up her nose to give the inner wall a little scratch. She wasn't digging for anything, it was quick and very ninja like, but it was clear she did it. She was just stealth enough that it could have been that she was not wanting anyone to see her dirty deed. At first I dismissed it as a nose ring adjustment until I realized her nose ring was on the other side of her nose. Then I realized what had happened. But was I going to call her out on it? No way! Propriety and a fear of being beaten up by a girl kept my mouth shut. I was going to leave her unrebuked for her nose picking ways. Then she got called out on it by a girl who lacked both my propriety and fear of bodily harm.

"You just picked your nose!" The girl declared.

"Yeah..." The nose picker retorted. "You don't? Everyone does. People just act like they don't. I'm not ashamed. Look everyone does it... Soandso, you pick your nose?" Soandso nods. "Whatsherface, you pick your nose?" Whatsherface blushes and looks away. "Tyler you pick your nose?"

I boldly respond "Hu? Oh, I was... well... not with... I'm... I don't really... Dude, I'm not gonna answer that."

"See? Everyone picks their nose." As she restates her thesis everyone else recontemplated their whole world view.

End tangent.

The next day I am heading off to the east coast to see my parents for the holidays. For a myriad of reasons I am sleepless and tired. I braved a day of table waiting, packing, driving through tremendous rain storms (they weren't so bad, I'm just trying to stack the deck here), a sleepless night with Mel Brookes' classic films, and airport security to get where I am now: my gate at the airport.

Needless to say I'm tired. People are doing that thing where they rudely put their suitcase on the chair to their left and their jacket on the chair to their right (I'd judge them but I was doing the same thing before nature beckoned me to her porcelain temple) so there are no available seats. I'm fading in and out of consciousness where I stand.

When my eyes jerk open to right sleeplessness I am looking into the face of a little Asian woman.* She is picking her noise. She is really going at it. This isn't a gentle scratching of the surface. This is a throwback to the gold rush. This lady is digging like she's trying to win an Olympic medal.

As I witness this my mind fades for an unknown amount of time to the conversation about nose picking at the party. I think about playing Apples to Apples. I think about how true it is that everyone picks their nose. Sometimes its a necessity. And sometimes its just feels good. I think about how everyone says you shouldn't do it, but everyone does. Whether you're rich or poor, everyone has had a finger venture up the mountain's tunnels to see what they might find. I thought of the phrase everyone picks their nose. Which led me to think about the phrase everyone poops. Which made me think of the children's book with its profound yet simple message. There should be a book about nose picking. Should I do my own illustrations? Could their be a Christian message in it? Could it be a series? Could it make me enough money to buy a minivan with automatic locks? Could it make me enough money to buy a automobile that isn't a van so girls won't laugh when they see me? Too much to hope for. Why is it always the pretty girls who are comfortable with nose picking? Why does picking my noise feel so good when society tells me its so bad? Are each of our index fingers specially designed by God to perfectly fit our nostril?

I come back to reality to find the lady is still picking her nose. She hasn't quit. And it dawns on me: she is looking right at me! She has been looking at me this whole time. And I've been looking at her! This whole time my mind has been wandering into the land of nose picking philosophy I've been looking at this little Asian lady as she aggressively digs up her nose. She knows I'm looking at her and she picks her nose all the same.

This must be how the Grinch felt when Christmas morning came and Christmas came all the same (without packages or bows, etc) and all the Whos down in Whoville were singing their Whocarols.

Me looking at her should have sent her into a proverbial tailspin of self consciousness and doubt. She should have pulled that little finger out of her nose and ran to the other side of the room to avoid eye contact with me forever. There she could spend the remainder of our time waiting for the plane praying she isn't in a seat next to mine. But she doesn't.

SHE DOESN'T!!!

She picks her nose like she is daring me to judge her for it. With every little twist of her hand she defies cultural norms and my watching. With that simple upward thrust of her index finger she tells the world and little me sitting in the middle of it "I know how you want me to behave, but I will not do it. I will not conform to your arbitrary standards. We all pick our noses, I'm just bold enough to do it freely, without fear of judgement or rejection. If this world can not respect me for the nose picker I am then I want no part of this world and its restrictions. I want to be free."

Since then I've thought about my own boldness in life. I don't know how courageous I can be in the face of adversity, but I pray for the strength to be myself, stand by my convictions and fight injustice no matter the cost. I want to take a stand, not sit on the sidelines whiles others do all the work.

I haven't picked my nose in public yet, but I've thought about it, and that's a start.

*race accomplishes nothing more than providing a picture. I am not accusing all Asians of being nose pickers.

Silence (or johnny cage, john cage and the one thing i learned from a history of american music class)

Growing up Johnny Cage was the cool kickboxer in Mortal Kombat who cared as much how he looked as how he fought. He had his styling early 90's raybands and an attitude to match. To be honest I was alway parshal to Subzero, but I was often accused of cheating by mercilessly freezing my opponants and then kicking them in the face-what in fighting game vinacular was called being "cheap." When my brother or friends would get sick of this they'd force me to pick someone other than the masked ice-cold dinamo who could manifest coldness at will (insert cold hearted girl parallel joke if you so choose). I was tempted to pick Scorpion with his skeleton head and that rope that flew out of his hand, but since he was Subzero's rival and sworn enemy it didn't feel right. I couldn't cheat on my prized fighter. So I turned to Johnny Cage. The professional actor who got his jollies by kicking people in the head in illegal tournaments to the death.

Fast foward 8 years. My Sega Genesis gathered dust (yeah I had a N64 but everyone knew not to play Mortal Kombat on that, there was no blood.), and I was off to college.To get music credits I took a history of American music class. Early in the class we were told to pick an individual musician to do a research report on. Now my knowledge of American music at this time was pretty much relegated to screaming and punk rock angst, so I had no idea who I was picking. I would let chance be my guide... or was it fortuidous?

The way I picked my subject was simple, he had to meet three criteria: 1) he had to be someone who was scheduled late in the semester to maximize my ability to procrastinate. 2) He had to not have anyone else sign up for him so I wouldn't have to partner with a weirdo. 3) He had to have a cool sounding name.

Enter Johnny Cage, the ficticious kickboxing superstar of my youth.Okay his name was actually John Cage but it was close enough. And if he was cool enough for the creators of Mortal Kombat to name a character after him then he was cool enough for me (I may have been giving the creators too much credit in being cultured, I've found no proof that he was intentionally named after the musician John Cage, it could just be a coincidence...).

John Cage was a professional musician who was also a philosopher and adapter of his own form of Buddhism that bares only slight resemblances to the easter religion. He was, what could be described as a rouge musician/composer. He developed his own rules and used his music to communicate his philosophies on life, art, and existance.

At one performance he created a piece that was named after the measure of time it was to be performed in. The thing was he had no music. He sat at the piano and counted the time, at the appropriate moment he would turn the page of nonexistent music, all the while sitting in utter silence. Certainly many people were uncomfortable with this unorthodox performance. Some people must have assumed a joke was being performed on them. Others, completely terrified by silence shuffled in their seats as they waited for eternity to pass.

What was the point? Cage wanted people to hear the music in silence. He claimed that silence was never silent as all, that there was music in the rustling of seats and heavy breathing of patrons. Even when no external noise can be found at all the body provides a symphony of its own: heart pounding, lungs sucking in oxygen and pushing out carbon dioxide, and stomach churching in gluttonous hunger. Music was everywhere. There was beauty in the beats of life. There was beauty in silence.

The weeks that have passed have been busy ones. There is always something to distract me, entertain me, or challenge me everywhere I turn. I can fill my life with noise quite easily until I pass out from exhaustion. Even then I'm half tempted to doze off into darkness to the toon of Further Seems Forever or Johnny Cash's My Mother's Hymnal album.

I have friends who need to talk to me, and friends with whom I desperately need to speak. I have an endless supply of sound at my disposal.

Then I broke down. Not in any dramatic way, this wasn't anything fit for a soap opera. My body just had enough. I went to my barn and laid in silence. I sat alone. I was quietly. The rhythm of the fan my only companion.I listened to my heard beat and felt my brain pulsate in my temples. Wind crept through the broken screen creating a faint whistle. And I remembered John Cage.

I remembered that there was music in silence. That silence could energize me and refresh me. I could, if I allowed myself, be covered in the silence of my apartment and there find rest.

In that silence I found not only music, but miracles to inspire. As I breathed in I was a witness to a personal miracle, life continuing. In the chaos of day to day life I take advantage of breathing, I'm not a doctor but I know enough to understand that the whole breathing thing happens pretty much on its own, without my willful contribution. As I'm dealing with disgruntled customers at work, or teenagers in need of time and care at church I continue breathing like its my business.

Every breath reminded me that I'm still alive, here by a will external to my own. In that silence as I listened to the music of my own breathing I was reminded that God isn't finished with me yet. Each breath is a miracle given by the Lord, and eventually those will cease. Eventually those breaths which have been numbered since my birth will end and I will go home. I don't fear that day. And I don't watch for it with morbid curiousity. But I am aware its coming. The music of silence shows me that time has not yet come. There is still work to do. I'm still living.

I believe our culture acts against us when it makes us uncomfortable with silence. With so much entertainment and noise at our disposal silence feels like the enemy. But this is a trap. This is a lie. The enemy wants us surrounded by noise to keep out the time of silent reflection. To keep us from enjoying the sound of our own heart beat, and the reminder that our creator has not given up on us. It keeps us from enjoying the music of silence, which is a great tragedy.

Poopeology (the theology of pooping)

Pooping is God's gracious gift to we sinners that reminds us of the sin from which we have been saved and of the salvation that we have undeservedly found in Christ. We are shown, in subtlety, the depths of our own depravity; seeing what we, unconsciously, are able to manifest through the simple activity of eating and passage of time. We can see in these moments, if we allow ourselves to, that we are truly great sinners. And there is no answer to being a great sinner than to find a far superior Savior. So when we find ourselves in these moments of release we should not let time pass idly, rather we should allow it to remind us yet again the great depth of sin in which we have found ourselves, and the great salvation that is brought to us through Christ.

If we allow ourselves to, we can be reminded of our great salvation even in the minutest of activities.

[this blog is dedicated to Brandon, Wes and Jerod who requested this blog be written... blame them!]

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants (what i learned from Moody and Spurgeon)

There is an old wives' tale I heard. It is an old wives' tale because I haven't seen any written record of it anywhere-not that I've looked too hard. Whether or not its true it is a compelling story. It involves two of my heroes, DL Moody and Charles Spurgeon. Both men were famous Evangelists in the late 19th century. Mr. Moody from the US, and Spurgeon from the UK. On multiple occasions their paths crossed as they had evangelical crusades on either side of the pond. They were life long friends and corresponded frequently.

The story goes that the two men were walking together (after some event I'm sure) down a street, I like to picture that it was cobblestoned, when Spurgeon lit of a cigar. He was well known for being an eloquent speaker and his cigar chomping ways, as Moody was known for his eloquent speaking and rotund midsection. As he lit the cigar Mr. Moody asked, "When am I going to be able to get you to quit those."

Spurgeon responded, "As soon as I get you to stop over-eating." Oh snap! He got told.

The story resounded with me and my friends. For one it was an example of witty banter between two of the brightest and best to come out of the Evangelical movement. It also showed that neither man was perfect, but had his own particular vice. Shamefully it also rang true for us because it appealed to the "don't judge me and I won't judge you mentality" that we as a society are so keen on. Mr. Moody showed disapproval and Surgeon wittily sent some disapproval right back.

I hear the most popular quoted Scripture these days is "judge not, lest you be judged." Who is anyone to tell me how to live my life?! The western, democratic idea of independence wins the day. This story screamed that principle and made us feel like we were free to judge ourselves and do our work, and each man's particular proclivity was his own. Black and white became grey and "if it doesn't hurt anyone..." became the great justifier of any indiscretion.

Then I heard another story. Spurgeon is back in England this time and he is all by himself. Mr. Moody is off on some evangelical mission or starting a school or whatever else... he was a busy boy. So he's not in the picture on this one. Spurgeon goes into a cigar shop to pick up his favorite jaw cancer stick when he sees that they are advertised with his name attached. "The same cigars Spurgeon smokes while he preaches" proclaimed the add.

Spurgeon was shocked. While he never believed smoking cigars to be sin (and this writer would agree) he did not expect that they would be attached to his personality. His life became (unbenounced to him) a ringing endorsement of cigar smoking, and worse yet of smoking a particular brand. He was the posterboy, the Marlboro man of jolly England. And that he could not stand.

According to this wives' tale he quit smoking then and there.

See the issue wasn't that smoking was bad. It was an issue with what was he endorsing and what was he known for. Mr. Moody and Spurgeon would fit the moniker I like to ascribe to myself, they were Raging Evangelicals. Their whole life was about the Gospel. Their lives had been changed by the saving work of Christ, so they made it their life's mission to share the hope of Christ with the world and see many come to repentance and faith in their Lord and Savior Christ Jesus.

Mr. Moody sidestepped popular social issues in the Church often. He gave little time to the temperance movement (although he did give a little, I got a paper on that if you're interested...) because it detracted from the real goal: making disciples. Neither man was interested in making people act Christianly in a social sense. They wanted people to be transformed by Christ.

As much as they didn't want to be know for social issues of the day, they didn't want to be known for worldly habits either. Their identity was in Christ, not in worldly pleasures. Spurgeon did not want to be a posterboy for cigars, he was a minister of the Gospel.

As much of the Bible warns each of us not to judge (well... judge faultily, judging sin and declaring sin as such is very much a part of Christianity) it also warns against causing another brother to stumble. It would be better to tie a millstone around your neck and jump into deep water than to lead another Christian to stumble into sin, to be an endorser of a practice that violates another man's conscience. Spurgeon knew this. So he quit smoking. Not because it was sin but because he knew by smoking he was endorsing an act that would violate another man's conscience.

That one hurt. The first story was an amusing anecdote that was just fun history nerd speak. It had no real consequence. And it doesn't matter if its true or not, its just a funny story. The second, however, required deep reflection.

I have thought in great depth about liberties and restrictions as a Christian man. It's practically required of any person who desires to serve Christ but wants to enjoy the life he's been given here on earth. I've heard all kinds of arguments about liberties and our rights as those freed from sin by Christ. A lot of these arguments are compelling and made by people far smarter than I. Some of them are made by well intentioned people trying to serve Christ and live in His grace, and some are trying to stamp "liberty" on every activity that seems amusing to them at the time.

I know my identity is in Christ. That I am righteous because of the work He did on the cross and not because of any thing I have done. I know my liberties. But I also know I cannot rub those liberties in anyone's face. My heart is to bring the Gospel to people. I am not evangelist about exercising "rights", I am an evangelist for the Gospel of Christ that frees those who are imprisoned to sin, guilt, and death. I want to be know for the Gospel that has saved me, not for my slick argumentation for my rights.

Did Spurgeon have a right to keep smoking? Certainly. But he gave up that right so he wouldn't make anyone else stumble. He gave it up to be a better minister of the Gospel. He gave it up because he had the liberty to do so! He didn't have to smoke. He could easily give it up because his identity wasn't in the gratification of his own desires, but in Christ who saved Him.

May we all be so courageous and our hearts so moldable.

The Lever that is Flushing American Down the Toilet (its always the ones you don't expect)

Many people are saying we are in a moral decline in American society*. Growing up I've heard a lot of mud slinging about who or what is to blame for this downward spiral. Often the accused are things that I loved growing up and still have a nostalgic affection for. That is to say, I took the accusations a bit personally. My generation was told that because we played video games, and watched movies and the news, read books about rebellious youths ("Catcher in the Rye made me do it"), and listened to music where people screamed we were sending our country off the way of the buffalo.

But I say no!

I'm not saying that these things in some part aren't negatively affecting our society**. They very well may be, I can't say for sure, I'm not a doctor. But they are only younger brothers and sisters of the earlier moral corruption our parents and grandparents were exposed to. We are only inheriting their immorality. The main cause of our moral decline, the thing that started us down the current path we're on, the shepherd towards destruction is:

Musicals!

That's right! Someone had to say it eventually. We have not gotten this way because of twenty years of video games. We have gotten the way we are because of over a hundred years of musicals rotting us from the core.

Don't believe me?

Skeptical?

How about some proof?

Here is a fun game I'll get us all started on: Take any musical and examine it as face value and ask what it is (if one were to look at it as a moral guide) teaching us about life, morality, proper conduct, etc. Lets look at three examples to get us rolling on this.

1) Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
This is probably one of the easiest musicals to pick apart so it should be a good place to start. If I were to use this musical as my moral compass here is the conclusion I would easily draw:
If I want to get married to a certain girl, but she isn't too into me for whatever reason, maybe I'm brash or unrefined or I punch people in the face in public (all of which happens in the musical) all I have to do to get her to fall in love with me is to ride into town and kidnap her and take her to my remote mountain estate where escape and/or rescue is made impossible by the long winter's snow and harsh conditions. Within four months she'll not only be madly in love with me but she will defend my goodness to the townspeople trying to rescue her, delivering a speech that makes them feel bad about themselves! Oh did I mention that this is all the better if there are six other brothers to do the same thing, then there are plenty of women to do all the womanly activities like sewing, cooking, being pretty etc. While the brothers saw wood and sing in a lovely baritone.

Where to begin on how messed up this story is?! I'm just gonna try to give single words that should bring the idea across: kidnapping, creepy, illegal, sexist, and that dudes hair is weird!

Try this in real life and you go to prison buddy!

2) Grease

One of the most beloved musicals of all time but someones gotta do it. I gotta tear down this immoral monster!

The lesson:

So I like this girl. I think she likes me too. But I got all these social standards and restrictions over me that keep me from dating her. We are two poor people in love divided by metaphorical fences we neither constructed nor truly understand. This is made all the worse by the fact that in trying to be cool in front of my friends I've been a jerk to her. Now I've pushed her away forever. Oh love is so cruel. So how do I win her back? I change. I become someone different, someone that her pompous self-righteous clique can appreciate. I become a jock, not because I like sports but because she has shown that she likes guys who like sports. When I go to show her how I can change for her, how i can be someone I'm not for her, because I'm not totally sure she likes me for who I am... oh wonder of wonders! Its a miracle!!! She has changed for me. Now she is a scantily clad, classless... well I can't say I respect her much more, but she looks great! And she did it all for me. She became someone other than who she is all for me! Isn't that romantic? She abandoned her moral compass because she thought it'd make me like her more. This must be love!!!

This is ridiculous. The music is fun and John Travolta hitting that high note is worth the price of admission, and certainly its a blast to watch 32 year olds play 17 year olds. But come on people! This is awful. Girls don't change who you are for John Travolta, or any other guy, and especially don't change into a catwomen uniform with a popped collar. Its not cool. Same for you boys!

3) Guys and Dolls
This is with no disrespect towards Frank Sinatra or Marlon Brando. If I was half as cool as either of them I'd certainly overdose on coolness. So I'm not talking bad on them. I am only saying that this play is messed up.

You want a play that tries to make the idea of missionary dating look great? Here it is. Brando's character makes a bet with Sinatra's character that he can get little miss Too-Cool-For-School-Salvation-Army-Super-Christian to fall in love with him. But then he starts digging on her. Then she starts digging on him. Then she finds out about the bet. Then she stops digging on him so much. Although she still kinda digs on him but doesn't, you know? But he still digs on her. Whats a poor guy to do? Win her back. How? Make a bet with every low life gambler in New York (including Sinatra's character who, through the whole play is being chased by a cop-played flawlessly by me in the high school play I was in) that if he wins in shooting craps they all have to go to a revival and pretend to be Christian like. He wins. Everyone goes both because they lost the bet and because they finally got caught gambling by the cop and they need to look like good Christian boys instead of low life gamblers for their cover. They all act like Christians. Salvation Army chick is back in love and all is right with the world.

Don't you all feel so good about yourselves after that fairy tale?


I might have stumbled on something dangerous here. There may be a vast government conspiracy to cover up the plot to poison our society slowly through catchy musicals. But its happening. And I am willing to risk life and limb to bring you the truth.

Now go play the game with your friends!



*This is highly contested and I'm not sure I agree with the conclusions as they are simply laid out. But for the sake of this article lets just roll with it.
** well if you're saying that reading is negatively affecting our society then shame on you! Unless you're talking about the Twilight series, in which case you may or may not have a point. The vote is still out on that one.

Almighty Heroes (or... the downfall of western society)

I was walking through a local store the other day looking to buy myself an energy drink, some Swedish Fish, and toothpaste to balance it all out when I came across these two awe inspiring pieces of Biblical action and plastic. In researching this online there is a whole enterprise of Bible actions figures you can purchase if you were so inclined.

On seeing my heroes come to life in the same format as mutated turtles, super soldiers, and pro-wrestlers my heart split in two. Schizophrenically I had opposing yet simultaneous reactions:

1) The creator of these toys deserves a Nobel prize!

A Nobel prize at least! I think sainthood might be overkill but that doesn't mean its not deserved. If I found these toys when I was 9 years old I would have known then and there I was born with the specific purpose of playing with these action figures. College? Marriage? That stuff is for chumps! My life's work would be playing with these action figures until their paint was chipped and warn and the whole depths of my imagination was filled with the justice of God at the hands of these heroes of the faith.

I would have suspended disbelief and brought the men who were divided by hundreds of years, geographical locations, and varied enemies and united them in the common cause of stopping evil where ever it may dare to show its face. Moses, Samson, David, Daniel, Joshua, and the whole crew would fight nobly and heroically every waking second of the day.

If I had to take a bath these almighty heroes would be coming too! I would play them to death! They would come with me everywhere.

Nine year old Tyler would be happy in his room reenacting his favorite flannel graph moments from church. Him mom and her friends would sit quietly downstairs discussing curtains or lawn furniture or whatever it is they talk about while Tyler, sitting upstairs in hallway, screams out "destroy the uncircumcised Philistine!" as David and Moses (Daniel would help if he could but he's currently occupied with lions attacking him who were unleashed by Skeletor) face off against Goliath.

It would be beautiful. Oh, nine year old Tyler I'm so sorry you have been deprived of this joy! I only wish I could travel back in time and bring you these presents on your ninth birthday to make up for the socks your aunt got for you (I'd probably also include a list of girls to avoid in your future, and tell you that the television show Heroes is going to start out amazing but will only end up breaking your heart, save yourself from the disappointment... oh all the things I wish I could give you and save you from younger me, you're so innocent!).

But at the same time I was thinking...

2) I hope the creator of this toy falls on something sharp and gets tetanus!

Shame on you toy creator!

Oh, the beautiful marriage that is faith and capitalism.

I can't even begin to list what is all wrong with these toys. First of all they are 14 freakin' bucks which is expensive even for really cool toys that don't exploit Scripture. 14 dollars? Why don't you just use a gun?!

Turning the greatest heroes of Scripture into action figures, while seemingly cool, does seem dispresectful as well. I would not want any kid of mine going to heaven, seeing Moses and saying "I played with you when I was a kid, you fought the Incredible Hulk, but I lost you when I accidentally left you on the driveway one day and my dad ran over you...(this actually happened to me with a Chuck Norris action figure I had when I was 3. 21 years later its still hurts!)... Hey, where's you're gold chest plate and overly tight blue pants?!"

Finally these toys feed into the American, physical obsessed society we're living in. Moses was not a 21 year old Muscle bound behemoth when he freed Israel from slavery. He was an adult when he was ran out of Egypt (after killing the slave owner) and he spent forty years in the desert before returning. He was an old dude. These toys further perpetuate the myth that heroes should be huge men with muscles stacked on top of muscles and square jaws. The point of these stories (other than to give the history of the nation of Israel and bring us from creation to redemption in Christ) is to show us that God does amazing things through regular, imperfect people, not through professional wrestlers with incredibly unhistorical clothes and weapons. I don't want my nephew growing up thinking if he is ever going to be used for the kingdom of God he has to be able to pick up a bus (as this Moses appears to be capable of). But I want him to know that he is able to move mountains by faith in Christ, the one who is faithful.

So needless to say, my feelings are mixed on this product.

On one hand I want to go on an all ramin noodle soup diet for a week so I can afford to buy every one of these Almighty Heroes and use them to decorate my office, while at the same time I'm wondering if I can get a national campaign going to get all these toys recalled and have the creator stand in the center of Jack Murphy Stadium (no, I will not call it Qualcolm) while thousands of people fill the seats who feel the same way as I do and point at him and scream "shame!"

Modesty (and the girl with the unashamed bladder)

Living in southern California my whole life has been an interesting experience. Some will say I am quite spoiled for it*. Southern California has, without a doubt the highest concentration of beautiful girls in the world. They are everywhere, to the point where it becomes commonplace. In some bizzarre Darwinian leap in evolution, California has become the breeding ground of the gorgeous. Only the beautiful survive, those less fortunate are disgarded like unwanted Spartan children**, relegated to the margins of society***. I don't say that to seem sexist or fixated on appearances, I'm just saying its a scientific fact that the most beautiful girls in the world live in this one, overpriced geographical location. If you take a crowd of southern California girls and throw a stone towards them**** nine times out of ten you're gonna hit a girl who could stop traffic with their smile.


I tell you that in order to say that I would consider myself well schooled in what American culture has told us is beautiful. We got it in spades in So Cal (no! not "Cali"... no one should call it "Cali").


But one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen in real life was not from southern California. She was a homeless girl living on the streets of Chicago. An African American girl, average height, who walked up and down the streets of Chicago Avenue my first year living in Chicago. And she was absolutely beautiful. Once you looked past the torn clothes and looked into her eyes you could see that she would be (in any other context) the most beautiful girl in any room. And her voice... She had a voice that could put angry bulldogs to sleep. Sure she was screaming obsenities and telling my friends and I how we had all kinds of immorally transmitted diseases, but the way she said it... there was poetry. It was a voice that could coax all your muscles to relax.


We would see her often as we walked up and down Chicago Avenue, looking for some Dunkin Donuts coffee or questionable Indian food late at night. But my last interaction with her (the last time I remember seeing her) stands out in my mind more than any other. We had passed her once going to a restaurant, she asked us for money, when we told her we didn't have any cash on us she rhythmically explained to us her feelings about the matter and we walked away awkwardly.


On our way back from the restaurant it was just my friend Mark and I. We saw her a ways off in the distance. I wondered if she would remember us or ask us again for money on our second pass. She made eye contact with me and I knew I was in for another tongue lashing from the siren. She was crouched against a wall, squatting in the cold February air, trying to block herself from the bitter wind that blows through the city all through the winter. As I neared her she didn't move. She just sat there with eyes locked on me. Not wanting to be too rude I made eye contact and smiled. She asked me if I had a cigarette or a light. I told her I carried neither. She seemed disheartened by the news but was unwilling to budge. I began walking past her path and noticed why she wasn't moving... a single stream of liquid ran from where she was sitting down the sidewalk, overflowing into the gutter. She was peeing in public on a busy street, right in front of me!!! With cat like reflexes and agility I flew over the stream and dodged the liquid before me. Mark was not so lucky and got a sole full of urine on his left foot before he was lucky enough to realize what was happening. In horror he noticed just a few seconds too late and took off running and I followed, laughing at:


1) Mark's shoe full of pee


2) at the idea that this girl was unashamedly urinating in public.


Of course I told everyone I knew about it, and logged it in my memory bank as one of those "only in Chicago" kinds of stories. Its all about the memories.


Years later I still think back on that girl. I think about how beautiful she was. I think about how that beauty was countered by vile language and... well... her peeing on a busy street! And it made me think about this idea of beauty and what it truly is. My life in California showed me that true lasting beauty wasn't in string bikinis or meticulously applied make-up. My time in Chicago showed me that it wasn't in the beautiful face or musical voice of any woman. There is something more.



When discussing this topic there are many tripwires in peoples' brains. And rightfully there should be. Me writing about modesty should come as very humorous to some because of the amount of time I have spent mocking other males who have put so much time expounding on the subject. As a Christian I've heard numerous sermons and speeches about modesty from men who are telling women why they should be modest. I do feel a little cynicism at the very idea of being a guy telling women how to dress. I feel even more cynicism about it because I'm a single guy who has a hard enough time dressing myself daily without sticking my nose into telling girls how they should dress. My problem is I'm convinced that most people who have expounded on the subject have been very VERY wrong in their approach. So I am throwing my two cents in about what true beauty is and the motivations behind modesty.


A lot of people I have heard or read have operated on guilt and fear to inspire modesty. "Christian girls, you should be modest because if you dress too attractively you will make men stumble and fall into tempation and it will be all your fault and no one will every truly love you for you and food won't taste as good and you'll never get a loan for your future house, etc." The message women receive is that men are perverts and the only thing keeping them from total sin and evil is the length of their skirt. That's not the right reason to be modest. Fear is never the right reason for holiness.


True, the Bible does tell us that we are to avoid making a fellow Christian stumble. We should avoid that at all costs as we are able. But that is never the greatest motivator for holiness.


If we're being totally honest here lets just lay it all on the table and call a spade a spade. An attractive girl is still going to be attractive whether she is wearing a bikini or a burlap sack. There is little you can do about it*****. When you dress in the morning the question should not be "is this going to make a guy think about sex?" The question that should be asked, the true motivation for modest is much deeper and profound.

Woman considering how they dress (or I should say, how they live) should not be based off of fear which is a temporal motivation that fades with age and impulse. Modesty isn't a concept for this life, you don't stop being modest because you die. Modesty comes from an eternal principle of beauty.

All women in Heaven will be modest. Now, calm your cynicism! My point is the eternal nature of modesty, which is a state of mind and understanding of one's own identity, not solely based on whether or not a person keeps all their flesh covered. Modest is a heart issue, not an accentuation of curves issue. When Christ returns and gives us glorified bodies those will be bodies that are presented modestly, not for fear of making others sin (there will be no sin! Lord let that day come soon!), or an attempt to present a false, denim skirt enduced piety, but from a proper understanding of what true beauty is.

You want to know what is beautiful? You want to know about enduring beauty that lasts beyond age, style, gravity, cultural savy, and death? What is truly beautiful is the transforming work of Christ in a person's life. A beautiful girl is a girl who knows that her identity is found in Christ's death and resurrection and has confidence in His love. She is content in Christ for validation. She does not need guys drooling over her, and she does not need to flaunt her measurements or show skin. She is content and secure in Christ, not needing a thousand peering eyes to validate what Christ has been trying to help her understand her whole life: she is beautiful because of the work of the cross and her humble submission to it.

I want to avoid the response that is (history nerd coming out here) coming from our culture's fear/hurt caused by the fundamentalist movement. People will read this and think I'm saying that true women don't need or shouldn't want men or something bizarre like that. I'm not saying a truly modest woman is free from the love or validation a loving husband provides. Modest woman are not hyper feminists who spurn the love and affection of men. They aren't nuns. Truly beautiful women know that their beauty comes from Christ first and they strives to honor Him in the way they present themselves. They dress to honor and worship Jesus who has died for their sins, cleansing them from unrighteousness, and raising them into new life. They stand in the mirror and ask "what does how I look say about Christ in me?"

Beauty is knowing who you are in Christ and letting Him be what makes you beautiful. That does not mean a beautiful woman rejects the affections of a boyfriend/husband. I'm not trying to pull a Hamlet here and telling Ophilia to "get thee to a nunnery." A woman of true beauty seeks a husband who loves and admires a woman who love God and has submits herself to Him. She looks for a man that encourages true beauty, and knows that that accentuates physical beauty. She will not settle for mere physical validation and lust, but waits for a man that loves her for who Christ is in her and pushes her towards holiness, not away from it.

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, but in the transforming work of Christ. That is where the motivation for modesty should come from. That is eternal lasting modesty.

*many friends who grew up in other states and came here to visit have told me that exact thing.

**my second blog post to reference Spartan culture... this may be a theme.

*** by that I mean they probably move to Florida or something.


****i don't recommend this. I don't have too much advice to offer men about the fairer sex, but I can tell you that they don't care for having rocks thrown at them. There are other, more subtle and less harmful forms of flirting.


*****I don't say that to make wearing a bikini permissible, but to say that beautiful girls are beautiful girls and men are going to be attracted to them. So keeping a guy from being attracted to you is not the goal. The goal is holiness, not being less attractive.

Justice (delayed gratification part 1)

Waiting tables can be monotonous. I say the same things to every table with about five jokes that are interchangeable depending on the customer. One day bleeds and blurs into another until the only way you can keep track of the calendar is by what soup* is being served that day and when the paycheck comes in. Sometimes there may be the excitement of a complaint or getting yelled at, or a cute someone or other that makes the day just a bit brighter, but in the end those events melt together until one is indistinguishable from the other.

In the world of waiting tables the server is the seal and the day to day events are the water that rushes over it's back.

At least that's the idea... to be the centered professional who is not affected by the yelling, the rudeness, the person looking for a handout, the girl crying while her boyfriend sits emotionless demanding another glass of ice tea. You do your job, collect your tips and forget any of it ever happened.

I'm not a very good server. Therefore sometimes I'm affected by these things. Not to mention my overactive mind that continues thinking about stuff long after it is healthy to do so. There are certain events that make me think and get me frustrated... so frustrated in fact I wish I would have never seen anything.**

She was a very pretty girl, 19 or 20 years old, just eating her lunch with her boyfriend. When she was walking out of the restaurant she passed by a woman sitting at the counter. This woman was clearly trying to rebel against the will of Father-Time. She wore the clothes, make-up, and hair of a seventeen year old girl of whom most would say is trying too hard to get attention. As events unfolded details emerged. Apparently the eternal 17 year old had an affair with the father of the pretty 20 year old a year or two back, resulting in ruining the girl's life as her family fell apart.

So how did the pretty 20 year old handle seeing the woman who helped destroy her parent's marriage out in the real world, unexpectedly, and with another guy?

She dumped hot syrup on her head, hit her a few times, called her a few choice names, and explained that she ruined her life.

By the time I was there to see anything the Forever Seventeenager's husband/boyfriend/meal ticket/whatever was holding the girl***, trying to calm her down, and demanding the police be called so he could press charges on the girl. The man was explaining to the girl that these events happened two years ago and she needed to calm down.
The Po-Po showed up.
People were questioned.
I went back to asking people which muffin they wanted with their salad.
But what happened stuck with me the rest of the day. It bothered me. It broke my heart. And I decided a few things:

1) That's not enough time!
When trying to reason with the girl the man holding her explained that these things happened two years ago, inferring that she should be over it by now and passed the syrup dumping stage.

What a cold hearted and stupid thing to say!

There's a time line for getting over you're father's infidelity? 18 months? I don't think so. Cheating is a huge deal, and its effects on those involved is not easily forgotten or dismissed. You can't just cheat and then tell the people who's lives are broken as a result that they should be over it by now. You destroyed a family!!! Until you repent before God and ask for forgiveness you should have syrup dumped on your head weekly as a reminder of your shame!

2) I'll get more syrup!
A lady has an affair with a girl's father, helping in the decimation of a family, and all she gets is some syrup on her head? Lady got off easy!!! I'll grab some more syrup and help the girl dump it just on principle. If that happened to me syrup on the lady's hair would be the least of her problems. I don't think people understand how disgusting cheating is, how the affects ripple through countless lives resulting in heartbreak, uncertainty, cynicism, and hatred. There should be a price to pay for that. Which brings me to my last point....

3) True justice is coming... but waiting for it sucks
The "victims" of the attack (the man and woman who for the rest of the day wore syrup as a hat) called the cops and pressed charges against the girl. That really bothered me. People tried to convince me that they were right in doing it. It was, after all, assault. I understand that. What bothered me was the justice can be more swiftly delivered on assault than adultery. The girl ruined this lady's hair due, this lady helped destroy the girl's life! But there is no punishment for that. She can't press charges against her father's mistress.

It seems the lady got away with it. Her life is unaffected by her evil actions. There is no payment she has to make, no mark on her record. But this girl now has assault charges on her permanent record.

I'm not advocating vigilante justice. The girl shouldn't have done what she did. But I sympathize with why she did it. The lady has yet to pay for what she did and that's frustrating. I totally understand her anger at seeing the lady who had the affair sitting in a restaurant, happily going about her life while the sadness of what happened has remained with this girl for years.

It seems completely messed up that justice can come so swiftly for assault but so slowly (seemingly not at all) for adultery.

I want justice now! I want an example to be made. I want people to see the result of living a life like this! But its not about what I want, God does not answer to me.

I have to believe God when He says "Justice is mine, I will repay." I have to wait for the Lord's timing and know that its not like my own. I know that God hurts for this girl. That He hates what has happened. Justice will come swiftly. Just not yet...

That thought makes me pause just for moment. I know the evil things I've done that I have not received punishment for. Christ took the punishment for those things, not because I deserve it but because He loves me. When I remember this I know that I'm no better than this lady. I don't deserve punishment any less. So then I gotta pray the Lord will grip both the lady's and the girl's hearts and show them that forgiveness, peace, and life come only through Christ. That seems like the trite response to all this, "pray for them" but its all I got. With every fiber of my being I hate what this lady has done! But I know I'm not better than she is... and that's a frustrating and sobering thing to have to realize.

Even so, come quickly Lord.



*"Split pea soup? Its Monday?"
** even if it was kinda interesting when it was happening.
***which didn't make me happy

The Answer to Every Problem You Will Ever Have (from this point my self help book can practically write itself)

I know how to get rich and famous: write a self help book that makes people feel good about themselves, cash the checks a.s.a.p. then build a house with high walls to protect myself from the oncoming backlash when people realize they just paid $26.50 for a 300 page hug from me that provided no more sustenance than a pack of chewing gum (your breath might be better but your teeth are rotting!). If I'm really awesome I create some circular argument that leads people to think that if my methods (the 300 page hug for $26.50) didn't work out for them then its somehow their fault... they weren't disciplined enough, didn't have enough faith, whatever.

But I'll probably continue on the track I'm on. Which means I'll be poor and never make a cent for what I write. Because if I were to write any book that were in the self help genre (I like to picture as I write this dozens of friends laughing at the idea of me writing a book to make people feel better about themselves) it would pretty much be this blog post expanded upon in greater detail, and that isn't gonna sell to many copies (but if a publisher is interested I'm game!).

The answer to every one of our problems, to every sadness and difficulty is... wait for it... Jesus!

I know it sounds so trite; that's what happens when our faith (the greatest truth of the universe!) is reduced to cheesy expressions on our car bumpers and overpriced t-shirts*. I'm not trying to say those things are evil (perhaps thats a blog posting for another time), I'm just saying they have taken us to a point where profound truth sits next to our sports affiliations. Culturally we wear our faith and politics on our sleeves and leave it there. I believe Jesus being the answer to all of our problems would be much less trite if our lives backed up what we were sticking to our bumpers, if Jesus infiltrated every part of our lives, if we were soaked in the Gospel.

We need to be people who are proclaiming the Gospel to ourselves and others. We need to be preaching it to ourselves daily. We need to remember who Christ is and what He has done for us. We need to wake up in the morning and remember who we are in Christ, forgiven, holy, and righteous because of Christ's death and resurrection. No matter what the world throws at us nothing is too great because we know that when we die we go on to eternity with Christ.

Knowing the Gospel and remembering it daily puts everything into perspective. Everything becomes smaller and more manageable. If I am without any money and not sure how I'm gonna make it in the next couple of months (which isn't far from the truth) I can always remember that my God owns cattle on a thousand hills, money is no object for Him, and He's promised to meet every one of my needs (Matthew 6).

Our problems don't disappear, they just get put in the proper perspective. No matter what happens I stand forgiven in Christ, and the God who created the universe loves me and gave Himself for me. What is there to worry about beyond that? How can anything be too difficult or consuming?

In the midst of trials, sadness, and even despair we need to remind ourselves of who Christ is. We need to be soaked in the Gospel. Thinking more positively isn't going to help. Believing in yourself isn't going to help. Believing in an ambiguous "high power" isn't going to help. You want happiness that lasts, its knowing Christ and Him crucified!

I know one of the biggest struggles is with self-esteem. I have that struggle myself. I know I've done horrible things that should completely disqualify me from being considered a Christian. If I chose I could be completely consumed by guilt. It might make me feel better... for a little while, to just hate myself. But that's not the real answer! While we were still sinners Christ died for us; knowing full well the depth of our sin and betrayal Christ willingly died so we could be united with Him for all eternity. He has done away with our sin and made us holy by His death and resurrection. He has brought us into an eternal relationship with Him and separated our sins from us as far as the east is from the west. So when that voice comes and tells you you don't deserve eternity, you don't deserve forgiveness, you don't deserve to be counted as a saint, you're too sinful to ever be among those saints who make a difference in this world you can say boldly: You're right. I do not deserve any of those things on my own. But I serve Christ who has forgiven me of my sins and united me with Himself for all eternity. Christ took the punishment I deserve so I can live forgiven. My sin is separated from me. I am righteous as Christ is righteous. Christ no longer sees my sin, so I will not dwell on it any longer! I stand forgiven in Christ. What can this world do to me?! I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. I live by His strength. Those sins you rub in my face were forgiven on the cross. So go away Fear and Doubt, you're no longer welcome here! My hope and joy are in Christ!

At least that's how I would say it, you can tweak the verbiage as you see fit and is natural for the way you speak. For me, I take comfort daily in knowing that no matter what the heights or depths of my own soul, Christ remains the same!

I'm not trying to minimize life's problems, but to magnify Christ. I'm not one of those people that is gonna say don't seek counseling or anything like that. I am a man entirely convinced however that in the face of any difficulty in life the first place we need to turn is to Christ and His gospel. We need to soak ourselves in it. It will put everything else into perspective.





*I say some controversial things from time to time, but no one can argue most of these Christian shirts are expensive!

[dedicated to Kylie who, for a few months, was the major victim of my rants on this subject]

Immediate Gratification (or "what I learned from one of the worst movies of the twenty first century)

There are few experiences in one's life that remain with them long after they have passed. One for me was going to see 10,000 B.C. Even a year later I am writing about it and still thinking about it, not because its a great movie but because it is one of the most awful, vomit inducing, makes me want to pull an Oedipus and stab out both eyes movies I have ever seen. But hey, it was free, it was a particularly bad day when I needed a distraction, and it appealed to my proclivity for analyzing what makes bad movies so bad. My reflection on the movie collided with my reflection on sin and Christian discipline I was going through at the time (and continue too...), leading to one of the most challenging and convicting revelations I have ever had about my own nature as a sinner who is completely obsessed with my own immediate and unquenchable desire for gratification, no matter how hollow or cheaply it may present itself.
Like I said, 10,000 B.C. is not a good movie. It is so bad it makes Cherubim mourn to see such a day as this. Its not "so bad it good", its just bad. It is completely historically incomprehensible, geographically illogical, and unashamedly racist*. But for our purposes I'm gonna focus on the fact that the movie liberally borrows from multiple, better, movies such as Jurassic Park, Apocalypto, 300 and others.
I, in no way endorse the movie 300, but it is interesting to compare the end of that movie with the end of 10,000 B.C. which clearly ripped it off.
In 300 the Persians are moving in on the Greek Spartans to place them under the rule of the "god-king" Xerxes, who claims to be an invincible deity. The Spartans know they are going to die, the king of Sparta (are you gonna be impressed if I tell you his name is Leonidas? I sure hope not, I'm ashamed I know that...) says that at the end of the battle, whether he is alive or not the world will know that even a god-king can bleed. The movie ends with Leonidas, while having arrows shot at him from every direction, throwing his spear at Xerxes, grazing his cheek and blood spilling out and Leonidas falling dead. The evil king gets to live?! What kind of world is that?
10,000 B.C. attempts to mend such questions. This time the evil god-king who has no character development or motivation or really anything to make anyone consider him to be an actual personality (other than his long fingernails, inexplicably pail skin, and table cloth draped over his head) stands above those he is about to conquer. The good guy, who's name I forgot and don't care to even look up from the Wikidedians, again stands against the evil god-kingy type character, hurls a spear at him which hits him in the stomach and he quickly falls dead. Yeah! The bad guy is dead and all is right with the world... Not really.
Sure 10,000 B.C., by killing off its antagonist in the finale and letting its protagonist live the movie gratifies man's immediate desire for justice and peace and retribution, but its gives no substance, no meat, it leaves the audience with nothing but a "wasn't that cool to watch that creepy pale guy fall off the tall building" feeling. 300's ending was not gratifying. It was difficult. The good guy died and the bad guy lived. Satisfaction only comes when one considers what has happened. You have to think about it! What really happened was that Leonidas showed the world and Xerxes himself that he was not a god but just a man who bleeds when a big spear is thrown at his face. He completely deconstructs the whole mythos that floated around Xerxes like a fog. By doing that he gives others the courage to fight! Sure its too bad Leonidas had to die, but in doing so he inspired thousands to follow his example and fight for land and freedom. The antagonist in 10,000 B.C. dying accomplished nothing more than a conclusion to a story that was not worth telling. "The story has to end somehow, lets just kill off the creepy pale guy!"
[No! I'm not saying 300 is an amazing movie, I'm just constructing a religious parallel here, give it time!]
After watching 10,000 B.C. and seeing the creepy pale guy fall dead I was completely insulted. Either the author thought we were so stupid that that other ending was too complex for us, or he was so stupid that he didn't understand the depth of the other ending. Either way audiences got an eye full of pop culture fluff that achieved nothing and will have no lasting significance in the history of film.
After I was done laughing at the film I started to thinking about the ending and how it reflects on our society, or at least how the producers of the film see our society.
Thinking on the movie paralleled with my reflection on my addiction to sin and self gratification. I believe one reflects the other. Why did this movie have this poorly developed happy ending that lacked any depth? Why do I constantly sin when I know with every fiber of my being tells me its wrong and leads to death and hell? Because people (you... I... everyone) hates to delay gratification. Man's nature pulls him towards acting immediately to bring himself satisfaction at that moment, never to delay it for a second longer than he has to. 10,000 B.C.'s ending is only better than 300's if the audience doesn't want to think, doesn't want to draw conclusions.
That's how sin is. The Bible teaches that God's way (resisting sin, remaining temperate, seeking first His kingdom and His righteousness) is the best and most rewarding way, it leads to life and eternity where there is peace, joy, and eternal life where there are no more tears. It also teaches that sin is the wrong way, it leads to pain, death and hell. I know that. I've read it in Scripture and I've seen sin's consequences in my life and others. Yet every fiber of my being pulls me towards sin, even when I know its wrong. I've also seen it in those I love, while they know that sin leads to destruction, they blissfully march towards it. Why?...
Because we love our own immediate gratification over waiting for eternal, lasting rewards. We'd rather have a penny today than a million dollars in the future.
"Immediate gratification" needs to be a phrase on our lips and minds. We need to be aware of the fact that our hearts, bodies, and minds pull us towards immediate gratification which only leads to sin, death and suffering. Its only in knowing that our hearts pull us this way that we can fight it. Its only in reflecting on the truth that delaying gratification, waiting for God to bring us rewards and fulfillment (rather than seeking it and obtaining it for ourselves), is the best way that we are able to live lives that delay gratification and strive for gratification that is eternal, lasting and substantial.
I have to admit that I like sinning. It feels good and, for the moment its occurring, it makes me happy. Not sinning... well not sinning is difficult some times. Its hard to give up bringing myself gratification now in the hopes that my needs and desires will be met in an undisclosed future. But God's Word tells me they will. Believing that takes faith and trust, two attributes I don't often possess like I would like.
The sin that brings me happiness only lasts so long, then I'm left feeling empty and looking for gratification again... so I sin again... its a vicious cycle I'm not proud to be a part of. But I am!
Sin leads to pain, death and hell. Not happiness.
Sure it feels good for the moment, sure it brings immediate gratification, but in the long run... well in the long run its not so great. Sin leads to death.
But we don't think about the long run. We think about the moment that we're in. We need to stop that. We need to see our actions in light of eternity!!! We need to realize that we are going to die some day.
Sin is choosing to gratify ourselves instantly. Triumph is resisting that urge. It is believing what God says, that resisting sin leads to joy, glory, and Godliness, and giving up our immediate gratifications as a sacrifice for it.
I am sick and tired of people telling me what a tragedy it is that I'm a virgin at 24 as if I am losing out on something by not experiencing sex as the world tells me I should. When I know that premarital sex statistically leads to greater divorce rates, less happiness in marriage, marital unfaithfulness, and general unfulfillment in relationships. The Bible said it first, statistics and first hand accounts validate it. Stop trying to pull me down with you. I'm sick of being ashamed of living how God calls me to. I know that this way leads to joy, the other does not. Stop trying to convince me and yourself otherwise.
I'm sick and tired seeing people I love justify their sin and misery because they don't want to do the hard thing to receive the greater reward. I don't want to go with them any more. I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to validate my own sin as if it is the better way when it has only brought me misery. Immediate gratification has only ever brought me misery. We need to fight it. We need to seek first God's kingdom and His righteousness. We need to resist sin. Only then will be know what true gratification is. Not immediate gratification, but eternal, lasting, TRUE gratification.
Everything else is just a cheap and insulting imitation of true gratification.


*the story is about a white guy who saves a bunch of black guys from a bunch of evil middle eastern looking guys! Racist!

One of the Most Unsettling Things You'll Ever Read (if you're paying attention)

What if we actually lived out what Scripture taught? What if, rather than being a passive affiliation our faith occupied every square inch of our being? What if our every decision was made in light of who Christ is, what He has done for us, and what He demands from us in return?
I distance myself from these ideas even as I write them.
This is crazy talk! I'd rather get back to amusing myself with bright lights and sounds than think on any of this. But I'm gonna get tired soon. And I'm gonna turn the lights off. And the darkness is gonna remind me again. I don't like to suffer alone. So I bring you into my world to think on the things that crowd my brain and send it spinning.
Kierkegaard is a dead man (alive in Christ!) who wrote 150 years ago. But his words are as pointed, and jarring today as they were then. The Melancholy Dane, who considered himself the prophet to the Church of Denmark, like Jeremiah the weeping prophet preaching to those who refuse to hear, he wrote:
"When one sees what it is to be a Christian in Denmark, how could it occur to anyone that this is what Jesus Christ talked about: Cross and agony and suffering, crucifying the flesh, suffering for doctrine, being salt, being sacrifice, etc? No, in Protestantism... Christianity marches to a different melody, to the tune "merrily we roll along, roll along, roll along'---Christianity is the enjoyment of life tranquilized, as neither Jew nor pagan was." (Attack Upon "Christendom" Princeton University Press, 1968, p. 34-5)
And...
"If I must be candid, I d not deny that I am not a Christian in the New Testament sense; if I must be honest, I do not deny that my life cannot be called an effort in the direction of denying myself, renouncing the world, dying from it, etc.; rather the earthly and the temporal become more important to me with every year I live." (p. 30).

Sometimes I wish Kierkegaard never said this, sometimes I wish I never read it. But I have, and here I am now accountable... left to deal with the question: What do I do with this?

Clearly, in my life at least, there needs to be change.

Lord, burn away every part of me that rebels again you and the holiness to which I have been called. And by your grace may I pursue you recklessly, even if I am alone. Help me to deny myself and the enticements of this world, and to magnify You! Amen.

Abortion (because i haven't been controversial enough lately)

I was born into and raised under the Protestant, evangelical Christian tradition. Which pretty much means I am an incidental Fundamentalist. You know all those Christians that stood in front of abortion clinics, screaming God's impending judgement? Yeah... those are my peeps! I didn't hang out with anyone all that severe, but all the same, abortion was the hill a lot of believers I knew chose to die on. Coming up through high school and early college I was a avid member of the Christian hardcore/punk scene. In this scene it was pretty much taken for granted that every band had a song against abortion. You're a Christian? Be against abortion!

I'm not a politician. I never wanted to be. My friends and I tried coining our own term for guys like me, the title was "Raging Evangelical*." While I'm still young and working through this it seemed to suit me then and it suits me now (leaving room for the correction of the Holy Spirit). My first concern is the Gospel. I'm convinced that we should be preaching it daily: to ourselves, to fellow believers in the Church, and to those who have not yet come to believe. I have no interest in making Christianly people, I desire to show people the saving grace and hope that comes only through Christ. What good is it to make someone act like a Christian, if they don't have Christ? They may be better company (although, considering some Christians I'm not so sure) but they are still on a path to hell. We've done nothing more than make their ride more comfortable for a time.

I saw abortion in much the same light. I am, always have been, and always will be pro-life. But that wasn't the hill I was going to die on. That wasn't gonna be my fight. It was good for other Christians, and I was indebted to them for taking up the mantle, but it wasn't for me. Give me an attentive ear and the thing that should come up is the Gospel. I'm not saying its wrong to talk about other things, or hold different convictions, I just believe my place in the Church is to be centered on the Gospel above all else.

So abortion was never on my radar. It wasn't the battle I was gonna fight. But over the last year or so my mind has begun changing. I am still a Raging Evangelical, but my heart is softening to the cause. The Holy Spirit has been convicting me over and over again, showing that a lot of my resistance to the cause was more pride and rebellion than founded on Biblical principles.

Over and over again through Scripture it is clear that God's heart is for the outcast, the disenfranchised. He fights for those who cannot fight for themselves. Those who do not have a voice are given a voice by God, that they are not to be taken advantage of or taken for granted. Every life, regardless of their economic contributions, aesthetic appeal, self reliance (or lack thereof), is sacred and worth defending! Because of this I see fighting against abortion as an important part of the life of the Church. We are to be people who love what Christ loves, hate what He hates, and have our hearts break for the things that break His heart. Pro-choice is such an interesting term. Who has the free-choice? Certainly not the child! He has no say in the matter. Someone needs to speak for him, and I am convinced it needs to be the Church.

As I've said, every life is sacred to God, murder is, therefore, a horrible offense. How then do we explain the inconsequential murder of millions of lives every year? Dress it up how you will, its murder. Actually, considering the numbers I'm looking at genocide seems to fit better! In 2005 there were 1.21 million abortions**! That's an impossible number to even think about. In on year 1.21 million children were killed because people didn't want to (or to be fair, in some cases their governments didn't allow them to) have a child. That's (if my math is right) 3,315 children killed every day. That's over 2 kids killed every minute!!!! That means, based on these statistics that in the time it takes to read a blog like this 10-12 kids were aborted. In the time its gonna take me to write this 80 to 120 kids will be killed! How can that not make people outraged? Its an epidemic!

But I'm a Raging Evangelical, with no intention of changing, who loves the Church and desires to serve within the Church. I don't believe I can fight abortion in politics. Its not where I'm called to be, and I have no desire to be there. As of now I won't be the guy protesting abortion clinics or talking about baby finger nails (Juno reference anyone?). I'm not out to change political policy. But I am convinced that the heart of God is to see this tragedy stop. And that can only be done from within the Church.

We pro-life people have to be honest. The government is not gonna stop allowing abortions when they cannot present any sort of alternative. They cannot afford to care for and house these unwanted babies (that's such a horrible sentence!). There is no reasonable alternative presented. We tell governments that killing of babies is wrong. Now we got 1.21 million babies that need homes. We all know that they shouldn't be with the people who wanted to get rid of them. They need a proper home!

That starts with the Church. Christians, if we wanna stop abortions we have to be the solution. Its not enough to shout from roof tops that abortion is murder. We need to get our hands dirty and say that we are the one's who will care for those whom we are trying to save.

Adoption is the answer to abortion. If abortions are gonna become less common it is going to be because the Church answers the call and says that they will care for those who are not wanted and cast aside. In the book of James it is clear that pure religion in the sight of God is (among other things) taking care of orphans. That is the call of the Church. We need to develop a culture of adoption. It should be part of the Church and part of every local church.

I'm not saying its gonna be easy. I'm not saying its something I'm gonna be awesome at or have all the answers on how to make it work. Adoption is hard and brings a lot of difficulties with it. Its work! Its hard! But its the hard that makes it good. If you're not interested in work, in getting your hands dirty then you are gonna have a difficult time being a part of the Church. If we do it together, if the Church stands as one to develop a culture of adoption, then its possible. We can lower the numbers, and give a life to those who would have never had it otherwise. Maybe we won't obliterate abortion entirely, but we can make a difference in individual lives. And if we each family in the Church could save one life... what an impact that would make!


note: these ideas are borrowed generously from a pastor named Chip Ingrim.


*Historians use the term "Neo-Evangelical" for guys like Billy Graham, so I'm taking it one step further. How clever of me!
** stats take from http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.html

Waiteology (the theology of waiting)

I like watching people. I'm what some would call a "people watcher". I find people fascinating. One of my favorite things to do is to find a person who is clearly waiting for something or someone and observe their waiting technique. People are horrible at waiting.
I saw a guy waiting in front of the movie theater for what I imagine was a date. He looked at his cell phone twenty-seven times in three minutes and could not stop shuffling his feet, pacing back and forth like he was running the world's shortest laps in track.
I was in a doctor's waiting room, it was just me and another guy. The waiting room is designed for waiting. What a horrible place for humans! I occupied my time nicely by watching this guy try to occupy his. I like to think that he made a challenge to himself that he could not touch and look at every single thing in that waiting room before he was called in to see the doctor. I left before he got called. I still wonder if he was successful (if you're reading this guy in doctor's office at Moody Bible Institute let me know!).
In the olden days of me being a host at a restaurant I would have tables so confused and angered by the passive activity of waiting that they would actually try and will time to go by faster. People would put their name in, I would tell them they had about a fifteen to twenty minute wait, and they would just sit there in a chair and stew until the time was up. They wouldn't say a thing, they'd just sit there concentrating on one brick on the floor, willing time to pass. Often they were only successful in making time go by faster in their own minds, not in reality. See, we had these things called clocks. And while I respect such concepts as biological clocks and internal clocks and things of this nature, I usually find digital clocks are more reliable when it comes to short periods of time, such as ten to fifteen minutes. A person would come up "Hello!!! I've been waiting like twenty five minutes! You told me my table would be ready by now!" I'd politely (what? You don't have to believe me, but its the truth!) respond "Well, we have written here that you put your name down at [such and such a time] and right now its [seven minutes past such and such a time], so you still got a good eight to thirteen minutes." And they'd walk off in a huff, doomed to wait another seven minutes to eat.
The case is built. Here is my point: We hate waiting.
I suppose its not surprising then that so often when I speak to Christians about what the Holy Spirit it teaching them they say they are learning patience.
In my own life currently "wait" seems to the be word of the day. If this were "You Can't Do That On Television" I'd be having slim dumped on my head quite often*. I pray often, presenting to God the things on my heart. He always responds. The response lately has been the same for everything:
"Wait" -God
"But, I was..."-Me
"Wait" -God
"Can't you just..." -Me
"Yes I can, but you wait." -God.
Okay, that's not really what happens. I don't hear an audible voice from God. But you get the idea. I do my best to talk my way out of having to wait and He hears none of it. Apparently what I am supposed to be doing with my life right now is waiting. I wait vigilantly, because who knows when God will lift the black curtain of wait that is in front of me. I'm not passive about it. I'm in a state of readiness. But I'm waiting.
That's boring, and not the coolest thing to tell people when they ask you what you're doing with your life.
"So you graduated college. Now what?"
"Oh man, I'm doing some really intense waiting right now! I've done some waiting in my life, but this is the most hardcore waiting I've ever done."
I try to dress it up but at the end of the day, a spade is a spade.
I don't say that to get pity. I don't want anyone's pity, I can't buy anything for it. So until the day Adidas trades pity points for shoes you can keep it. I'm saying that to show that waiting is humbling. None of us are good at it, and its hard to imagine anyone is going to understand while you're having to do it.
But when its where God has you there is no place you should rather be. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else rather than waiting on God if that is what He has me to be doing right now.
I'm learning patience in the hope that this continues to forge character and teaches me things I would not have learned otherwise. More than that I wait knowing that my life is made to bring God glory, if that is done by being a server at a local restaurant or a great writer so be it.
I am learning patience.
As I go through all this I've talked to a lot of other people who have found themselves or do find themselves in a time of waiting, whether it be for a few days or a few months or a few years.
Because I am who I am and think way too much about everything (I'm not good at waiting either, I just don't present as many physical manifestations of discomfort as others) I have been reflecting a lot on waiting.
Impatience is an epidemic. Just look around at our culture of fast food, thirty second commercials and quick editing MTV style television. Everything is designed to get us moving faster and concentrating less. We are horrible at waiting because we've been told our whole lives that waiting is a bad thing. Partly this is true, being idle can lead to all sorts of sins, but over-activity can lead to many sins itself. Its a balance, not leaning to one side or the other. Every commercial speaks about things that move faster, cook quicker, clean easier, etc. We want everything done five minutes ago.
No wonder patience is something so many people have to learn so often.
Patience is an idea as old as man.
I've been reading through the Bible with an intent to try and understand Biblical manhood.** The one thing that pops us over and over again is this idea of men having to wait. The more I reflect on it the more examples spring to mind:
Abraham waited an entire lifetime for a son, even after one had been promised to him by God Himself.
Moses waited forty years in the desert until he was directed by God to free his people.
The Israelites waiting another forty years in the desert after being freed from Egypt before they could enter the promised land.
Joseph waiting for years in prison, not even knowing what he was waiting for.
David waited fifteen years*** from the time he was prophesied to be king to the time he actually became king, and most of that time the king he would replace was trying to kill him.
Simeon (in Luke 2) waited his whole life for the promised Messiah who would save Israel, to the point where he began to lose hope.
Jesus waited thirty years before He would begin His ministry, spending those first thirty years doing whatever it is that carpenters did in northern Israel at that time.
The truth I had to come to terms with when considering all of this was that if these men can wait so long for such weighty, life altering things, I can wait for the things that I want. The Lord knows those who are His. And He know the desires of our hearts... He gave us the desires of our hearts! But those will be brought about in His time, not ours. And they will be brought about for His glory, not for our own personal satisfaction. We wait because we can trust that God's timing is better than our own.
So for now I'm gonna wait vigilantly for whatever it is that comes next.



*What? Too old of a reference? Well then how about Sesame Street? They had a word of the day celebration right? How about some audience participation. What was your favorite show that had a word of the day bit?
**I know it might sound silly, but I'm beginning to think this may be of more worth than all the self help books on being a man, etc. I'm going straight to the source!
***This is an approximation, I don't have any books in front of me to verify this information. Forgive me, its late. If you know the actual amount of time please tell me and I'll fix it.

Cowboy (poetic biography III)

i've got a smoking gun on my hip
and a smirk on my face

i've got a smoking gun on my hip
and a smirk on my face

i'm the envy of the masses
the conundrum of the press

present your accusations
and let me say my peace
i'll refute every word
and my heart won't skip a beat

my eyes are glistening
my hands are red
i've angered the proprietors
their house of cards has fallen
the world they built is dead

i've got a smoking gun on my hip
and a smirk on my face

the spooks and feds have got a wiff of blood
and now its time for the chase

lack of evidence is not justified by your best intentions
you've only got suspicion
i've got vindication

(note: written 4/18/05)

Ten Little Martyrs

They play with fire
then complain about the heat
throw glass to the pavement
and tell the world how it cuts their feet

ten little martyrs stand in a row
overactive tear ducts from which tears flow
provides the nutrition to help self pity grow

scratching at old scabs so new blood will spill
breathing in sorrow and never get their fill
loquacious with spite, fire at will
forsaking joy for a license to kill

ten little martyrs stand in a row
making their beds with misery's thread they sow
and onward to that bed they must go.

(note: written 7/25/05)

Poor Peter Pan (poetic biography II)

where did you go
where did you go
Shadow?
disappeared
disappeared
dear whisperer

the crescent moon
provides a light to tease
making me believe
there's something there
beyond

comfort within
never again
under the gloom
or a crescent moon

disappeared
disappeared
dear whisperer
where did you go
where did you go
shadow?

(note: written 3/7/05)

Napoleon Bonaparte (poetic biography I)

this serpent
continues to follow me
through the brushes
the forests
the desert heat

"why do you follow me?"

"why do you let me?"
he calmly replies

why do i listen?
to the serpent in my ear?
"destroy! destroy!"
his forked tongue sings
"consume, overpower, everything is yours
everything for the taking"
he continues on

why do i listen?
its horrid!
i continue to listen
despite my knowing
this should not be true

"destroy, conquer, and consume"

and foolishly
pridefully
i believe
(i'm sorry).

(note:written 2/22/05)

Revelation*

i dance in the grasses
i play in the fields
i run in the valleys
oh, this is all so beautiful

run, run, run
through the meadows
sleep in the grassy fields
the blades brush my feet
oh they tickle
this is perfect

"Oh God let it stay!"

the meadow
on the hill crest
there's a willow
a willow tree
so, so, so

lovely

hangs a single banana
yellow overpowered by every
beauty, touch, taste, smell, and passion
that this world can provide

oh, the wreckage
the carnage
the fire
inferno
oh, the flowers, grasses, meadows, hills
ashes, ashes its all ashes
"oh, God is there anything left?"

In the distance
a willow tree still stands as ash
but the single banana remains unharmed

oh wait, it opens
i hold my breath
inside
i see
oh!
Love!



*A poem I wrote years ago dedicated to my big sister, whom I love very much!

Celebrities are People Too (so why not gossip about them like we do everyone else)

When I was a kid I wanted to be famous. I wanted people to know who I was. I wanted to be rich and successful.

I was stupid!

Age and experience has shown me that this whole notion of celebrity is completely disgusting and heart breaking.

Why do we revere people because they are good at pretending to be someone other than themselves, or because they are tall, or can run really fast, or they're attractive, or they sing well, or because they are on TV? Its not that we appreciate their talent, we idolize the person, hang on their ever word, and desire any sort of proximity we can get! We want them to be our friends, our lovers, demagogues*, or even demigods.

When I worked at a restaurant in downtown Chicago I had the most aloof managers in restaurant history. None was worse than my general manager; he would sit in the back counting money or playing solitaire until the rush would go away and the stress had passed. He was rarely around when we needed him, and never on the floor to oversee the nightly running of the restaurant. I never received any questions on how I was doing, and was never propositioned for help. That is... until one Sunday night when one of the stars from the Chicago Bulls came to sit in my section. Suddenly the man who couldn't care less about me, how my tables were, or how good at my job I was, would not get off my back!

He kept asking me how I was doing? Do I need any help? Is Soandso happy? Etc? Honestly I didn't know who the guy was. People had to tell me (all in hushed tones and whispers, just so Soandso Whatshisface wouldn't find out who he was apparently). My manager was there for this guy's every need, making sure food was out quickly, making sure I was smiling, seeing to it that his check was delivered in a timely fashion, and making sure I didn't have one second of peace the whole time Soandso Whatshisface McBasketballstar was eating dinner with his family.

I don't mean it to sound arrogant to say I couldn't have cared less. Maybe if he was on the Lakers I would have recognized him, but I wouldn't have cared any more. Being a good basketball play didn't make him more deserving of my attention than any other person I was waiting on that night. Honestly, the only affect knowing who he was had on me was it made his 15% tip seem pretty stingy ("come on dude... you can afford to throw me a twenty spot!")

As he left my manager stood with his back as straight as he could at the front door, extended his hand for a nice hand shaking, and said something about appreciated having him in our city or something. I told my manager his wife would probably be jealous if she saw him this flustered over another person, he gave me a sharp look, I laughed, and he went back to the office to play more solitaire. His night wasn't gonna get any better than that.

I was completely confused by the whole thing. What was there to gain in idolizing this guy? All the whispering, the special attention, the reverence, what did it accomplish? We were gonna get some of his vast wealth? Was it gonna make us part of his entourage? Was some of his celebrity gonna rub off on us and make us more awesome too?

There was nothing to gain accept further perpetuating of the myth that they (celebrities) are special and we (not celebrities) are not. That guy came away believing everything the media told him because we worshiped the stupid ground he walked on just like they told us to. Because he can run and put a basketball through a hoop better than you or I can. BECAUSE HE CAN PUT A BASKETBALL THROUGH A HOOP BETTER THAN YOU OR I CAN!!! Doesn't that just sound ridiculous?!

Who developed the polio vaccine?
Who has the most homeruns in a single season?
Who is the leading researcher in curing breast cancer?
Who is the best basketball player of all time?

Our priorities are screwed up. I don't know the answers to polio or cancer question either. I'm ashamed of that.

I'm not saying we shouldn't like basketball or respect those who play the game well. I'm not saying we shouldn't watch movies and respect actors. I more than most people love movies and know an embarrassing amount of information on different actors careers. But I don't worship them. And I don't care how they spend their weekends, or if they are pregnant, or divorced, or getting fat, or if they named their kid Apple!

Entertainment celebrities are even more interesting. We don't just love them for their work in film, TV, or music. We are fascinated by their social lives. Its like if we know more about their personal lives and character traits then they are our friends. But knowing this stuff doesn't help us appreciate their art any more.

Christian Bale just had this whole deal about flipping out on the director of photography on the set of Terminator Salvation. I never watched it because I don't want to support people watching it. Knowing anything about Bale does not help me understand the movie any better, and it doesn't help me to identify with his character's motivations and actions. It doesn't benefit anything accept give me something to talk about with my friends when that awkward silence lasts too long. I'm not defending his actions. I don't care. He could donate all of his money to PETA, he could kill puppies on weekends. It doesn't make the movie any better or worse. What I care about is if he is a good actor. He is, so I see his movies. His personal life is just that: personal.

I will say this much... Sure the guy had a bit of unlicensed anger, but who hasn't. Admit it in one moment of anger or hurt or frustration or whatever we have all done something we are not proud of. We just don't have six cameras on us, a boom mic over our heads capturing every word, and millions of people willing to give up time in their day to watch it happen. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it does show that he, like us, is human!

Celebrities don't owe you anything! And we shouldn't ask anything. Christians, this kind of behavior boarders dangerously on idolatry. If you don't like me being that severe (although I don't think I'm wrong) I'll soften it by saying that celebrity worship is at best completely irresponsible and a waste of time. What do we gain, and how will we answer for the time spent idolizing these people?

When I say its irresponsible I mean that caring what celebrities think is a foolish waste of time, especially when their only qualification is that they are a celebrity. Oprah is an example of this, she is the worlds most influential woman (and she's got her eye on the most influential person-shes looking at you Pope Benedict the XVI and the Dalai Lama!) and only has a college degree. Sure she has life experience and tragedy that has made her what she is, but that doesn't make her an expert on religion and able to lecture on her new belief system she is adapting and taking from popular eastern mystic authors. But people are eating it up despite its blatant contradictions and lack of historical credibility. She is a universalist concerned more with comfort than with truth. I'm not telling Christians to not watch her, but if she is to be watched it should be done critically, remember the Bible, not Oprah is the final authority on truth.

By worshiping celebrities we make idols of men and insult our Creator. Our time is better spent caring for and admiring those who we actually spend time with. Respect should be reserved primary for those who we see day in and day out and can observe their conduct so we can know whether or not they deserve or respect, admiration, and emulation. Celebrities don't deserve that. And God is the only one who should knock us to our knees, He is the only one who deserves our worship. Celebrities are just people, not objects for worship.






*a leader championing the cause of the common people in ancient times (from: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/demagogue)