Listen

These two bands have been changing me lately. Please listen to anything by either of them.

Recommendations:

Sigur Ros - "Glósóli"

Explosions In The Sky - "Your Hand in Mine"

These aren't some best-kept-secret kind of thing and I'm not touting any band credentials. Both of these are kind of ubiquitous, and I'm certainly not gaining any kind of indie-credibility by mentioning them. They are just that good.

I need to write more. I'm suffocating.

On Marriage.

This is still no substitute for a real essay, though one is in the works, I promise.

Has anyone else noticed (maybe/hopefully it's just me) that Marriage is under attack lately? Have you heard more stories recently of stumbling marriages, failing marriages?

Last week I had a parent/teacher conference with the father of one of my students. He was doting and proud, but concerned. He gave his family's allegiance to their daughter and her education.

This week, the student is pulled from school because he and her mother are divorcing.

The neighbors I used to wakeboard with are walking through the details of an exposed affair.

A friend of a friend found out that the guy she'd just rekindled a 5 year relationship with is actually now married.

If I'm honest, it's really hard for me to hear. It's hard for me to hear because it's something I want so badly, but I'm afraid of being that father of my student, the neighbor, the friend of a friend.

Maybe Marriage is so warred against because it's a direct invasion into enemy territory. It's the human manifestation of God's perfect metaphor. He in us and we in Him. It's marriage right?

I've been wooed and courted, loved and married. And I cheat and lie and demand divorce.

More to come. I truly do hope you haven't felt the same way recently.

Blogging from the Teacher Convention

I've been lacking in inspiration lately, I feel dry;dusty even.

But we have to fight for inspiration because it doesn't always fight for us.

I think so often we leave joy to chance, hoping it finds us. But while we're out experimenting, it's a bound captive waiting (needing) our ransoming.

So we fight for joy and we fight for passion because we have to.

How do we change the world? How do we come alive?

Update

Conjuring up a new essay, but wanted to post this picture (I stole it from another blog.)

I just think it's perfect.

The Politics of Distraction

I’m going to make a bold statement.

I believe there is an enemy among us who loves this election; who loves our backbiting and our bitterness and our division. He loves this election because it’s got us distracted. Whether we’re screaming at the opposing protesters across the street, or quietly speculating about the salvation of prominent Christian authors, there is an enemy between us and he’s smiling.

We’re fighting so hard to deify this election (albeit not as bad as 2000 or 2004) and we’re using our Christian spirituality to fund and further our political agenda. With swords drawn and theology ready, we’re calling for the might of God to push forward our personal, political agenda.

I think this excites an enemy who hates us; we can see his work in taking us down, firing bullets of disillusionment, resentment and resignation by way of self-superiority.

It’s not just the religious-right either. Each side of the coin finds itself abused by religion-isms.

We make for ourselves our own partisan Jesus, wearing a red or blue robe, bleeding glory and promise for the Religious-Right or the Liberal-Left. But I think when we assign Jesus to our own political party we steal him from God, we strip him of the same power we’re seeking.

And our enemy is excited because the tinder is finally sparking.

When a Christian institution tells me, in no uncertain terms, that we need to pray for the passing of a certain proposition, what they’re asking me to do is join them in calling God to rescue our agenda, to sponsor our Manifest Destiny paradigm through legislative might. How far is Caesar going to take us this time? How far is too far?

We’re fighting boldly, but we’re fighting the wrong war. We’re taking the wrong tools into the battle, and the collateral damage isn’t worth it. I think that while we’re fighting from within the political realm, we’re failing to use our greatest means of social change.

Love.

It’s all about Love isn’t it? But isn’t Love the enemy of power?

I will no longer pour my passions into the red-herring of political arguments and infighting (thus satisfying our enemy’s agenda of trusting in our own might) because I believe that real change is only possible if we walk down the capitol’s steps into the capitol’s streets. If we truly believe that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness…” (Eph. 6:12) then we must question WHY we are spending so much energy in that arena.

Jesus’ work was done socially; he lived and worked in community, he opposed the methods of religious rulers. His healing was never for political gain, most of the time it broke the law.

We’re so vehement about Proposition 8 because the gay community hasn’t seen Jesus in us. We’re condemning those who have abortions because we haven’t loved them enough.

I believe we’re intent on pushing our political agenda because fighting is so much easier than loving.

And we have an enemy who would love for us to keep fighting.

This is It.

She'll sing me to sleep tonight. I know she will.

She has for years.

Dreams crash against me like waves frustrated by steadfast rocks, stubborn in their pride.

And like them, I do not move.

Our pulses screaming through our chests tell us, "this is it"

This is it. But we lay heavy and we do not move.

Making time for time.

I did it again.

I looked at my watch (phone) and it read 3:50.

I've developed such a fatalistic mindset, I know I have to be somewhere at 6:00 so now, when I look at the clock I perform lightning-speed subtraction to know that I have only a little over 2 hours beforehand. An hour and a half really; what with traffic and all.

Why am I always squinting and straining to see over the horizon? Why do I doom most coming events and let slip the hours and minutes in between?

If you've ever been slacklining or tightrope walking (yes, I do this) you know that the only way to keep real balance is to focus on a distant, but not-too-distant figure, something still, something planted. Perhaps a tree or a person tied to a tree. You focus on the object to give you a still point of reference, this keeps your head straight, which, in turn keeps your body and legs straight.

You stay on the line, but you miss everything below you. As soon as you look down at the swaying rope you lose it, you lose all foundation and get thrown.

I think I'm doing this with life, and I think I hate it. Something inside me says "Don't finish that project."
"Don't commit to anything."
"Don't pour yourself into something because likely, it will fail and look how good you have it here, here you're still walking, still moving somewhat."

Lies. Each of them.

The rope in all its turbulence needs looking after. Situations need remedying. Life needs living.

Life is waiting for us to have time for it.

What are we missing by focusing on the next job, the next friend, the next show or the next degree? What aren't we tending to while we're busy speculating?

So now, I look down at my watch (rope.) I have two hours before I have to be somewhere.

Two whole hours.

God is not Pro-Life

Saw a bumper sticker today that read: "God is Pro-life."

At first, it struck me as an obvious statement. Yes, of course God is "pro-life." Fire is hot, water is wet, God is pro-life. So why would anyone need a bumper sticker declaring that God doesn't want babies to die? Why was it red white and blue? And while we're at it, why am I growing so uncomfortable?

It hit me and it hurt. The sedan in front of me probably meant well, but the truth is that God is not pro-life.

If we strip away the assumptive reasoning we find a very divisive political agenda being placed like a filter on top of God. The terms pro-life and pro-choice are highly-caffeinated and politicized terms used to define someone's position on abortion. They are snappy political clothes used to summarize, in one hyphenated phrase, a person's political affiliation. But God doesn't have a political position on anything. Our invention of modern politics (or any politics for that matter) are mere tools for definition, used to explain or to embolden a group's collective opinion. A mode of translation used to classify our feelings about creation.

They serve wholly to divide. Politics are about the business of power.

God is not pro-life. God IS life. Our terms are too small.

Frankly what the bumper sticker is telling us is that God would not only VOTE pro life, but, vote for a candidate who is pro-life. Now, here's the long stretch the bumper sticker wants you to make: CANDIDATE VOTING PRO-LIFE = GOD.

That's really what that bumper sticker is saying, and truly, what that bumper sticker is saying, I want nothing to do with.

God is not pro life because he is not ever small enough to fit into yours or my political frame. I simply don't believe God can be bothered with it.

I would argue that one of the greatest and most dangerous heresies in Church is that we are a Christian nation. We think a strong and brazen gladiator-Jesus enters into our political Colosseum fighting the lions of liberalism and ransoming lost and wayward ex-patriots. The truth is, we are not a Christian nation. Too often we objectify the scriptures to enforce our position: we enslave them, we molest them. We are a people using scripture as a sword and God as a shield when it suits our purposes but we have forgotten that God is the whole of the battle.

Jesus asked us to "give to Caesar what is Caesar's" and indeed, we must. But what we're doing is giving God to Caesar.

His Three Words

I’ve been meaning to chase down and capture the best words for my weekend in Colorado, but it’s been difficult. I’ve been practicing lines and words all week hoping to paint the perfect picture.

The best I can do will probably be a series of narratives or thoughts that come to me as I pore over my experiences as I try to continue to feel the weight of that weekend.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was angry. If I’m honest, I was angry with God.

There were 400 men here, telling what seemed to be intimate experiences with God, but to me they were nothing more than folklore or family legend.

Where was my story? Where was my definitive moment when God became bigger than theories or theology or a fanciful message? I know God exists but for as long as I can remember, I’ve known and loved a silent God. I read stories about him, about his son, about his love. And it’s perfect. I know it’s perfect.

There were 400 men here and when it was silent you could hear each one of them weeping. Each of them revisiting stories of hurt; stories of beauty and inspiration. Each of them streaming tears of breakthrough and recovery and renewal.

Powerful isn’t the right word. It was just power.

It was beautiful and it was God and I was still angry.

At the end of one of Eldredge’s lectures, he asked us, like he had done a few times before, to leave the building in a “covenant of silence.” Our posture of solemnity and introspection and prayer was to be kept in silence; he asked us to pray, to talk to God, to cry if necessary, and ask him to speak to us.

So we left in silence, each one of us red-eyed and expectant. We left no room for machismo.

I climbed the side of a hill looking for a vista. If I’m honest, I hoped that soaking in God’s beauty at the paramount of one of the Colorado Rockies would bring me closer to him. I took a “Tower of Babel” approach (Worked for them right?)

After a few minutes I found a rock suitable for asking God the tough questions. It was big and smooth and very sit-able, facing away from the wind with a view of the lowering sun and flamboyant yellow Aspens.

So I dove in. I was the interrogator; God was sitting handcuffed and speechless across from me. If there was a swinging light above us, I would have shone it in his face and yelled at him.

“Where have you been the past 25 years?” I’d shout.

“I’ve been waiting.” I’d continue. “You know I’ve been waiting and I’ve been listening and now, I’ve been lying. Each year deepens our crevasse, and each year you get harder to fake. Now, where are you?”

Nothing. I heard nothing. The wind rushed through the trees behind me, and I halfway wanted it to be the voice of God himself. “But God was not in the wind” crept in the familiar 1 Kings passage. God was indeed not in the wind. And if I’m honest, I wondered if he was in my heart either.

My demanding turned into pleading, I was begging God for affirmation now.

“God, I don’t need to hear your voice, I’ve gotten this far without it,” I said “if you won’t tell me about yourself, then tell me about me. Tell me about me. Give me my new name God, and I’ll be that new name. I’ve done it alone for so long, if you so desperately want to be with us, why don’t you speak to us? Seems to be the worst way to do things.”

Like a man possessed, lines of long-memorized scripture filled my head. They overlapped each other, competed for prominence, competed for my attention.

“Draw near to me, and I’ll draw near to you”
“A still-small-voice”
“Our God, who is mighty to save”

They swirled between my ears, drowning my own inner-voice as I dismissed them as a reflex of self-medication learned through years of Christian institutionalization.

My doubt overcame me, and instantly I turned on God. My thoughts turned to betrayal, of negligence.

Of abandonment.

Why haven’t I felt validated? Why have I never felt strong enough to rescue a woman? What is it that keeps me questioning my own strength and purpose?

“God,” I asked,” what do you want from me?”

“What is my name?”

I want so badly to feel the strength that felled Goliath, the same strength that empowered Samson, the same spirit that carried Paul through years of imprisonment.

I heard the bell announcing the evening’s lecture and left hearing nothing at the mountaintop.

My shoulders had never felt lower, my face, like my spirit, was worn and tired and resigned. I walked back to the conference center and saw one of my bunkmates, a 45 year- old winery-owner with whom I’ve shared a car-ride, a few topical conversations but little else. He motions to me and I walk over to him.

“I spent the entire time praying for you.” He said. “I don’t know why, and I don’t understand it, but I’ve never heard God’s voice that clearly before. These three words came to me, throw them away or take them in, but understand that I’ve never had an experience with God like that before; I prayed for you the entire time.”

I took his folded post-it note and put it in my pocket, saving myself the awkwardness of having to let him know God doesn’t speak to guys like me, that I was too weak for God to use.”

Mick walked away.

His note read:

Mighty.
Valor.
Friend.

Journey

Having a "Rocktoberfest" at the Rock Bottom brewery. The place is awesome, big and trendy but with a very old-world feel.

Being alone is kind of awesome. The next part of my journey begins in a few minutes as I begin my journey into the deep heart of the Rockies, and probably, into my own.

wild at heart

Posting from the plane.

Anticipation isn't the right word.

I'm expecting God to meet me in Colorado.

Will post in detail when I return. I love you for reading this.

Economic Eschatology

It's the end of a long(ish) school day, I'm sitting drinking my popcorn-flavored coffee (I swear Orville Redenbacher brews this stuff from the grave) reading economy speculations from a variety of news sources.

At my school (a VERY conservative institution) the opinions on the country's situation range from the consequences of consumer gluttony and corrupt and greedy banks all the way to End Times theology and impending Armageddon.

I have no idea where the answer lies, and I would sooner advocate U.S. secession from North America than turn and point fingers at our fine country, but truly, to quote a Jack Nicholson classic, "something's gotta give."

Who's to blame? Greedy banks passing out dubious loans like business cards at a networking convention, or the wide-eyed borrowers who know they cannot afford them?

Who's to blame? The banks that facilitate such transactions? Or the government that facilitates those banks. The chicken or the egg? Where does personal responsibility come in?

Why is it OK for John Q. Homeowner to lose his house, ruin his credit and likely his family, while banks are given a just-in-time last minute parachute.

The greater good I suppose. I just hope the good is great enough.

Daily

For as long as I can remember, my life's compass has been set by assessing my projected future. I've smoothed-over present situations by focusing on my "inevitable" success in the future. I don't think it's harmful to have goals, I think they're necessary. But, I know that much of my pride and my self-assessment and comfort came from understanding that the future will be better.


C.S. Lewis in typical form, delivers me punishing blow in his essay "Learning in War Time." In the essay (actually a lecture) he's speaking to a group of military graduates; scholars who are battle-ready and understandably apprehensive. He encourages them to find security in the present, rather than in the potential.

"Never, in peace or war, commit your virtue or your happiness to the future. Happy work is best done by the man who takes his long term plans somewhat lightly and works from moment to moment 'as to the Lord.' It is only our daily bread that we are encouraged to ask for. The present is the only time in which any duty can be done or any grace received."

Don't we celebrate those who have embraced the day they're in? Don't we admire those who seem to exist inside every present moment, those who are changing their lives today, not tomorrow?

As usual, I think he's right. I need grace today, because truly, "tomorrow has enough worries of it's own."

I am a liar.

I am a liar.

I lie everyday, and more as I get older.

I tell people it's because I'm too young, or that I don't have time.

I tell people that I don't want to, or that I don't even think about it.

Sometimes I condescend them. Sometimes they believe me; often they do. Sometimes, I'm especially convincing and they're even jealous.

What I don't tell them is that I'm scared. At my core, I'm terrified of commitment. I'm scared of not being enough. I'm scared of her not being enough. I'm scared of settling and I'm too prideful to be that open. I'm scared that my novelty will wear off, or that I've made too many mistakes.

The problem with lies though is not that others believe them, it's that over time with enough consistency you start to believe your own.

On Love

A thought sparked by last night's discussion.

Can you love someone who doesn't love you back?

Not in a parental kind of love, not in a general "love for well-being's sake" love, but a true and romantic love. Can someone be "in love" with someone who doesn't love them back?

I don't think it's possible, here's why.

Love at it's core is a reciprocal event. It requires the willful emotional trust of two participating parties. It means that you've given complete emotional power to someone else and you trust them with it. You trust that they will not only not be irresponsible with it, but that they will keep it, cultivate it, grow it.

Return it.

I don't believe that you can offer this level of love to someone without understanding that they are doing the same thing. There's no small beauty in the mutual offering of that trust. And it can't be gone alone.

Unrequited love does not exist. It assumes the appearance of love, yet suffers the inability to assume it's definition. In our limited human capabilities, true love has no jurisdiction where it is not returned. God alone suffers the heartache of this exception.

Now, can someone love someone and fall out of love with someone? Say a couple grows apart over time; does there exist an exception for my theory? Not necessarily, while to remain "in love" with someone while he/she no longer returns the sentiment is acceptable, it does, however require that there was once a true and mutual offering of love.

Simply, I believe that romantic love of this kind exists in human form as necessarily a two-way street.

If someone tells you they love you, and you do not love them, gently let them know that they do not love you, but an idea of you. The love they are expressing will never be fully and officially endorsed until you can love them wholly in return.

Feel free to disagree

Mo' Money Mo' Problems

Interesting statistics:

Washington D.C. leads the states in teachers' salaries with California close behind.

Washington D.C.'s public education is abyssmal; with 88% of 8th graders failing to read and 92% far below proficiency in math, they are at the bottom of the list for student performance.

What's the correlation? Throwing money at inadequate teachers obviously isn't the solution, so lets throw money at students.

This link shows the new D.C. "Chancellor of Education" working in a new plan to pay students for academic performance.

I mean, it obviously works so well for teachers, it makes perfect sense that they would try their luck exploiting and patronizing underperforming adolescents.

Moving.

There's something about eating fish. It feels so right, so... biblical. Sure it's probably processed and canned by small-limbed indentured immigrants from Albania working 16 hour days in the humid Florida heat, but seriously, think of all the protein I'm getting. Great!

Back to teaching this year. It's been good so far, two days in, two days down. Classes and students seem to be a bit more manageable. I find myself sleeping at night, which is a step forward.

Speaking of steps forward. I've made it a mandate upon my life to each day move forward, or at least to move. Following college, it's becoming increasingly easy to find comfort in routine. It's easy to fulfill my own expectations if my expectations are limited to what I know.

It's cyclical, we do what we expect and we expect to do what we do. It's as redundant as it is asexually incestuous (I am nuts.) But if we adventure to live a life outside of what we know, we find security in understanding that God wants excellence from us. It's taken me awhile to understand that God wants us to be the best at what we do.

It's not a pride issue, it's not a strike against our humility, but why shouldn't we work harder than most? Why shouldn't we rise up as leaders in every field?

I keep repeating the maxim "Wrong action is better than inaction," and it's every bit as powerful and sobering and confronting as it was the first time I heard it.

Move.

Who I am.

Who you are now, is who you are.

I am not my potential, nor am I what I've done. What I am now might be the accumulation of answered questions a or series of made decisions. Who I am going to be is an extension of God's purpose.

But what and who we are right now, is who we are. That's really all we have.

Who are you right now?

On Responsibility.

Responsibility.

The word itself might as well be four-letter word for many of us. We avoid it's dooming claws, finding clever ways to dodge it like an oncoming football player.

The problem isn't in the nature of the word. By definition, it's an amazing word; respectable and worth embracing. The problem isn't in it's own definition; the problem is in ours.

We've demonized the term by associating it with negative experiences. The loss of free time due to working is "responsibility." The prudent managing of money due to loans and living is "responsibility."

These experiences are essential in life, much deserving of the term "responsibility."

Responsibility, however, has been vilified by those who fear it the most. When someone we know dodges not the "responsibilities" of life but the typical and expected career or personal path, we're quick to label him "irresponsible." We're quick to quarrel and concern ourselves with all of the ways he/she is being irresponsible, when really, what we're doing is absolving ourselves from our own failure to take the road less traveled.

When a high school friend chooses to attend a quirky out-of-state school rather than their parents' alma mater, how do we feel? When someone quits their promising desk-job to join the police academy, what do we do? When a co-worker quits to travel the world and start a non-profit organization in Beijing what do we say?

We call them irresponsible.

But we're jealous.

Pointing the finger is much easier to do from the security of an air-conditioned office.

We've been given the blessing of one earthly life in which we are charged with living boldly in the barracks of insecurity.

We're given passions and we're given skills and ideas and strokes of genius and we ignore them, trading them for the blessing of comfort and security.

To ignore these passions, I would argue, is being irresponsible.

Life is Epic. Come Alive.

I love you.

No you don't. You're besotted.

What's besotted mean?

It doesn't mean love.

Is it a step on the way to love?

No. It's terminal.