"Lucky Me:" Michael Chabon and me on Father's Day

A Father’s Day quote from Michael Chabon. This one comes from his amazing volume of essays, Manhood for Amateurs: the Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son. In lamenting the low bar for fatherhood in our culture, he homes in on the humility of the work:

“The daily work you put into rearing your children is a kind of intimacy, tedious and invisible as mothering itself. There is another kind of intimacy in the conversations you may have with your children as they grow older, in which you confess to failings, reveal anxieties, share your bouts of creative struggle, regret, frustration. There is intimacy in your quarrels, your negotiations and running jokes. But above all, there is intimacy in your contact with their bodies, with their shit and piss, sweat and vomit, with their stubbled kneecaps and dimpled knuckles, with the rips in their underpants as you fold them, with their hair against your lips as you kiss the tops of their heads, with the bones of their shoulders and with the horror of their breath in the morning as they pursue the ancient art of forgetting to brush. Luck me that I should be permitted the luxury of choosing to find the intimacy inherent in this work that is thrust upon so many women. Lucky me.

When I read this, I thought first of my own experience over the last 10 years and the marvel of my wife and children. But close behind, I thought of the mystery of the Incarnation and what it says about the fatherhood of God. That he would choose to enter this world in all its follies and failures and so bind himself to our blood and bone to redeem every inch of it – surely, surely this whispers the truth of the word: Father.

rebuilding

Last week we experienced a wonderful gift--a family within our church gave us the use of their family beach home in Sandbridge, Virginia, for a vacation. It was unbelievably wonderful. Basically, our days ran something like this:

1. get up (unbelievably early for some reason, no sleeping in on this vacation)
2. drink coffee
3. eat breakfast
4. go to the beach for a few hours
5. come back to eat lunch at the house
6. nap
7. go back to the beach for a few hours
8. eat one of andy's fabulous dinners
9. watch another episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
10. crash

Exciting times, yes? We loved it, every single minute! There was not a lot to do except enjoy the perfect weather, and contemplate small matters, and build sand castles. This part really fascinated me, because every time we went to the beach (twice a day), we (I use the term loosely here) built another sand castle, knowing full well that the next high tide would obliterate it.
This fact alone really intrigued me, because honestly, I hate having to redo certain jobs every. single. day. Like unloading the dishwasher. Washing dirty clothes. Loading the dishwasher. Sweeping dog hair off of the floor. Shaving my legs (TMI? Sorry about that.). And here we were, blithely doing work that we knew, without a doubt, would be destroyed within hours.

I wondered how God feels about the work that he does in our life sometimes--whether he gets excited when we make spiritual "progress" in an area, like prayer, or reading our Bible, or serving others, even while he knows that in a day or a week or a month, we'll get distracted or bored and move on, only to be reignited in another day, week, or month, and do it all over again. Does God enjoy our baby steps of trying to build godly lives? Even though our selfish hearts will often wash away the work, so that it has to be done again? Does he view it like I view dishes? Or is he more like Andy with cooking yet another delightful meal (thank you, Lord, that he enjoys it so much)? Or is he like my children, building sandcastles, doing the same work again with joy?

the 2009 booklist

As the year winds down, I thought I’d share a list of what I’ve been reading. Once again, it’s heavy on books for Fuller coursework (though that period of my life has officially come to an end: the diploma arrived in today’s mail). I realized I never published last year’s list, so a few of these might stretch back to the fall of ’08 Here they are, in no apparent order, and apologies for the ones I’ve forgotten:

Rick Bragg: All Over But the Shoutin’
John Caputo: Philosophy and Theology
John Caputo: What Would Jesus Deconstruct?
Neal Stephenson: Anathem
Jurgen Moltmann: The Crucified God
Wilfred Thesiger: Arabian Sands
Christopher Moore: Lamb: the gospel according to Biff, Christ’s childhood pal
Margaret Feinberg: Scouting the Divine
Francis Chan: Forgotten God
Malcolm Gladwell: Outlier
Karl Barth: Dogmatics in Outline
J. Beilby& T. Eddy, ed: the Nature of the Atonement: Four Views
Thomas Oden : The Word of Life (Systematic Theology vol 2)
T.F. Torrance: The Mediation of Christ
Peter Rollins: How (not) to Speak of God
Craig Detweiler: Into the Dark: Seeing the Sacred in the Top Films of the 21st Century
Tim Keller: Prodigal God
Megan Whalen Turner: The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, the King of Attolia
K. Barth & E. Brunner: Natural Theology
Vinoth Ramachandra: Subverting Global Myths
Gustav Aulen: Christus Victor
Patricia Wilson-Kastner: Faith, Feminism, and the Christ
Sam van Eman: On Earth, as it is in Advertising
Jeff Arthurs: Preaching with Variety: How to Re-create the Dynamics of Biblical Genres.
John Calvin: 2/5 of Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion (in process this year)
Peter Kreeft: Between Heaven and Hell
The Shack: William P Young
Michael Pollan: In Defense of Food
Clark Pinnock: Flame of Love: A Theology of the Holy Spirit
Paul Fiddes: Participating in God
Graham Buxton: Dancing in the Dark
Henri J. M. Nouwen: The Return of the Prodigal Son
Miroslav Volf: The End of Memory
David Augsberger: Hate Work
Gordon Oliver: Holy Bible, Human Bible
Andy Stanley: Communicating for Change
N. T. Wright: Surprised by Hope
James K.A. Smith: the Devil Reads Derrida
Henry David Thoreau: On Walden

Favorites?
1) John Caputo’s Philosophy and Theology – eminently readable, a delight, and a compelling case for the “and” in the title. I’ll be recommending this for some time to come …
2) Torrance’s The Mediation of Christ – freeing, beautiful, dense yet rich, draws you deeper into the heart of Christ’s incarnation and atonement. But I can say the same about Moltmann's shocking The Crucified God.
3) Neal Stephenson’s Anathem – a sprawling voyage into an alternate universe with enough math, philosophy, and adventure to please.

Resolutions for 2010? More fiction and poetry, as my diet has been a bit one-sided. And please, do share your own favorites!

Into the Wild

Over the last few days I sat down to watch Into the Wild. I'd read the book years ago, and coming on the heels of some things this week, the film got me thinking and I wrote some things down, Here they are, for what it's worth.
--
This past week I watched the film Into the Wild (dir. Sean Penn, 2007). If you are unfamiliar, it’s taken from Jon Krakauer’s book which tells the true story of the young Chris McCandless. After college, Christ renounces his life, renames himself Alexander Supertramp, and journeys into the wilderness (in all senses) and an eventual, tragic death at 24. I got into a discussion at work about it, with comments of “how selfish, what a waste, senseless” etc. Yes and no. Even if we allow that it’s a selfish waste, I can still admire the struggle, still sense the challenge it presents to our own lives and world. In Alex’s case, I can’t help but think that his struggle was just off-course enough to mean an endless beating against the wind, a tack into its teeth. Sure, the art of elimination knifes off all the stuff and junk that clutter and cloud our inner worlds – call it society, people, money and materialism, idols, desires, careers, what have you. But when everything is stripped away in the name of truth, what’s left?

In the end, truth can be as merciless a tyrant as any other, leaving you weak, pale, pitiful, and cold. It, too, demands your death, but it remains to be seen whether your death will bring any life. Or will it be just the final, too-familiar flameout of a once-brilliant torch? Closer to the heart of things, I think that the very part of us that has to be better, be right, be moral, alone be strong, alone be true – that part has to die as well. If it doesn’t, it becomes another petty god, a sham-idol in the jam-packed temple of humanity. And idols don’t give life.

It’s not the wild that kills the devil in me – but I think Alex/Chris knew that. It might reveal it, make me face it, but merely being in extremis doesn’t bring liberation. The real liberation comes when all our strivings only further tighten the cords further and we realize that we have to die in order to live. The truth is, someone has died for me and that alone gives me the power to die to myself and live for others. Without love, truth – however piercing, however beautiful – is only so much noise. Someone far wiser than I wrote that truth is not known unless it is loved. I think of some of Alex’/Chris’ final words: “in God’s name someone help me please …” In God’s name, someone has helped us, someone has loved us – and showed us the fullest extent of that love. God help us all.

(cross-posted at Facebook)

memorials

The kids and I flew up to Ohio last week to visit with my dad. Why January? Good question. I can only answer that apparently we are slightly insane. Thankfully, a friend down here provided a wonderful coat for Michael and scarves and hats galore. Whew! When we got there, Dayton was covered in old snow, which melted after a day or so, but not before the kids got to play in it. Sunday morning, it was snowing like crazy, so they were able to play outside in the snow as it was falling. Since this trip was about their second experience ever with snow, I was pretty pleased with that.

We went to church with my dad on Saturday night. Although this is the church in which I grew up, this building is still quite unfamiliar to me because it was built after I graduated from high school. My brother had a small farm plot on the land one summer (pending building) as part of a fundraiser for a youth trip. I have to confess, my mind wandered a bit during the service as I looked around and thought about the roots of this church, and the history to get there.

What I was mainly thinking about was that my parents were on the leadership team for the Sow What? campaign--the fund drive for the building which now holds this church. I remember my mother working (chemo and all) to make this property and building a reality. This is a very contemporary church, with no pews, no stained glass, and no gold plaques. My mother's name isn't inscribed anywhere in the building, or in the youth building next to it (in lieu of flowers, my father requested that donations in her name be made to that), but for all that, in a very real way, and maybe only to me, that building is a memorial to my mother. She invested herself in it because she believed in our church and its mission.

Don't worry, I have no delusions that she single-handedly built the church or anything like that--it's a big church and a lot of people poured themselves into it. But just knowing my mother, and how practical she was, and what was important to her, I was thankful to look around at all the unfamiliar faces that night and know that their presence in that building was a small part of her legacy. I think she would like that better than a fancy granite monument, which she doesn't have anyway. I am very thankful for my mother's drive, dedication, and passion, and for the ways in which she chose to invest herself.

who gets your vote?

So ... I (Andy) am in the unfamiliar territory of being less than 30 days from a major election and still being unsure of who will get my vote. Will it be McCain or Obama? I have many opinions. There are things I like about each candidate, and several I dislike.

So I want to take the step of asking all of you, whether you read this on the blog or on Facebook, to weigh in with your votes. I would love to know up to three things: (1) for whom you will vote - McCain, Obama, or another, (2) the most compelling reason for voting for that person, and (3) a compelling reason to not vote for his (or her) opponent. As always, let's please have some civility along with our courage.

I promise that later I will say what I think.
As always ... grace and peace!

feels like home to me

I had an interesting chat with a fellow church member the other day (actually I do not know where his/her current church membership is). (S)he said that one day (s)he had gone back for a visit to Covenant, second time since our split, and was sad because both times, it no longer felt like "home". This person went on to say that New Hope "doesn't feel like home yet either". For this person, the sanctuary was what made the church not feel like home at New Hope. I imagine that the only thing which has really changed about Covenant's sanctuary is the people in it (and the numbers), so the difference there intrigued me.

I started thinking about why New Hope does feel like home to me. It is obvious that it quickly felt like home to my children (considering that Covenant is the only church home they have ever known--Michael was a baby when we came here--I kind of expected them to be sad to leave, but they weren't). Why is that? I certainly don't think the building is homey. Is it because the programs have moved over? That may be part of it, but I doubt it, because those of you who know me know that I am happy to tear a program down to its core elements to strip out what doesn't work, and we have been doing that. We started in the new building without programs, actually, and are only now getting ready to start them up for the fall, some with pretty major changes.

The conclusion I have come to is that what makes New Hope feel like home is not the location, the building, or the programs: it's the people. My family moved to New Hope--my church family--and because of that, New Hope feels like home. We could have met in a gymnasium, like some other New Wineskins churches have done, and as long as the people came, it would feel like home. I think this has been true for a fair number of us. I know of at least one family which was not planning on coming to New Hope, but is now here, and I am reasonably confident that their presence can be traced to the fact that the people they loved as part of Covenant's body have come over, too. As a church, of course our first loyalty and allegiance must be to God and his glory, but I think many of us choose our church because we believe it's important to be part of a community. And that community, those people, become family, and family is what feels like home.

So, does New Hope feel like home to me? The building doesn't, I confess. But when I sit in that building on a Sunday and see my family in the pews around me, then I have to say that yes, I am at home.

a quick look

I thought I'd pause mid-year to share a few things I've read lately that have left a huge impression on me. So here they are!

The End of Memory by Miroslav Volf is one of the most amazing works I've read: rich, humble, personal, wise, and utterly hopeful. If you ever wonder about or struggle with issues related to forgiveness, justice, and painful memories: take and read. I don't want to sound like a sop, but I cried when I read the last page. That says something for a theology book!

More than any other book so far this year, Surprised by Hope (By N. T. Wright) has caught me firmly in its grasp. This book has fired my imagination. I have often felt that Christianity is not about going to heaven when you die but I haven't had the words or concepts to express what I want to say instead. I do now. Thanks, Tom - the energy and life you put into this exploration of the basic, historic Christian message is extraordinary.

Thank you, Jim Collins, thank you. I needed to read this short book right now. Your words at the bottom of page 14 and the top of page 30 rocked my world. I need to get to work.

Happy Reading!
grace and peace,
Andy

pictures and words

I wanted to share some more pictures from my recent backpacking trip as well as give you a sense of what I was thinking the whole weekend. As we hiked out on Sunday, I hung back and just gazed at the world. These are the words that came to mind (with a nod toward GMH). Bear with me - it's been a while since I did any poetry.

Glory be to God for gray granite spires slicing the skies,
For rivers’ roaring rush into valleys spread wide in water-welcome,
For pinnacles that pitch into broken boulders scatter-strewn in streams.
He shines in radiant shafts of light slanting on the peaks,
In shadows and shades dancing darkly down couloirs and chutes,
In silver-shine reflections in the dusk-and-dawn hours on lakes.
He speaks in flaming flowers crazy with color,
In hushed hallways of barren bristlecone pines,
in foaming flows spilling silver into meadows and glens.
And all around sighs the singing speech of a world a-tremble,
strung with pleasure and passion and power,
whose ever-altered appearance only serves the Reality
from whom, in whom, and to whom are all things.

a disappointing movie

During my dad's last visit, we took the kids to go see the newly released Prince Caspian. I will say that visually, it was pretty stunning and impressive, but on the story level, I was deeply disappointed. I've spent the last few weeks turning over in my brain some reasons of why I feel like they so completely destroyed the story (because in the end I do think they destroyed Lewis' story) and I've come to a couple of conclusions.

For my first issue I'll pull from Lewis himself, from his essay "On Stories" (which is a wonderful read). He shares his extreme disappointment after seeing the movie version of a Rider Haggard novel. At the end of the book, the hero is trapped in a completely dark, silent underground tomb. At the end of the movie, the director "substituted a subterranean volcanic eruption, and then went one better by adding an earthquake." Lewis suggests that if Haggard's climax was not satisfactory for the movie, then the producer should have chosen a different story, and that substituting the wild excitement of one climax for the deathly stillness of the original is a cheat: "The one lays a hushing spell on the imagination; the other excites a rapid flutter of the nerves. In reading that chapter of the book curiosity or suspense about the escape of the heroes from their death-trap makes a very minor part of one's experience. The trap I remember for ever: how they got out I have long since forgotten." (emphasis mine) Ironically, I think that the makers of Prince Caspian have done much the same thing with this movie.

For whatever reason, Lewis' story was not deemed exciting enough for the big screen, so action sequences were added, motivations changed, and essentially the entire story was rewritten to satisfy... someone. I doubt it was Lewis' faithful readers. The producers did very similar things in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (think about that whole contrived confrontation between Peter and the Wolf on the ice of the river), but I think they went a few steps farther in Prince Caspian and created a new story.

As disappointed as I was with the plot changes, though, I think was distresses me the most is the destruction of the entire novel--the characters, the tone, the mood. For me, one of the defining elements of Prince Caspian has always been the clear-sightedness of all involved, the determination, the purposefulness behind the story and characters. All that is gone in the movie. Caspian escapes from his uncle, Trumpkin embarks on his quest, Peter plans his strategies, all in complete and total ignorance. Once the Pevensies arrive to help, conflict, tension, and lack of knowledge continues. Maybe it made the movie better, but somehow I'm not feeling it.

This has all struck closer to home with me as I've recently started reading Planet Narnia by Michael Ward. His thesis is that Lewis carefully crafted each book in the series to reflect one of the medieval planets (remember Lewis' field was medieval literature). Ward is presenting a pretty compelling case so far and what he has to say about Prince Caspian as a reflection of Mars makes complete sense, while at the same time, makes the movie presentation all the more tragic.

One of the key elements of the novel is militarism (after all, it's a war story), and Ward posits that Lewis is creating a story around the Martial virtue of chivalry, especially knightly chivalry: "Peter is the model knight.... This is that 'knightly behaviour, in which morality up to the highest self-sacrifice and manners down to the smallest gracefulness in etiquette were inextricably blended by the medieval ideal." I think the movie has stripped Peter and Caspian both of their knightliness, in addition to ripping out the anchor of purpose and direction from the story.

Prince Caspian is one of my favorite of the Narnia Chronicles. I was excited about the movies and hopeful that they would uphold the flavor and delight of the books. The changes to The Lion were not small, but not destructive enough to bother me. However, I think they really screwed up with Prince Caspian. I hope the next one is better.

thoughts on customer service

Customer service is one of those issues that you don't think a lot about...maybe when you have great service somewhere and especially when you have bad service...but I've been noticing different calibers of customer service around me and sometimes I just really wonder what makes the difference.

True confession: I take our van to the local dealer for oil changes. I actually have two good reasons: the first is that if there are any issues with the van, recalls, warranty covered problems, they fix it right there and generally they catch it before I have to bring it to their attention; the second is that they have great customer service. I am sure they do charge more than the budget oil change across the street (although my last oil change was $28.95 at the dealer and Andy's was $45 across the street), but the service people are consistently friendly and really take time to talk with me about everything going on with the car. I know I'm not the only one who likes them--as I was pulling out the other day, I saw a Kia being driven into the service bay (it's a Nissan dealer). Would I buy a car from this dealer? Probably not. In fact, after a bad sales experience when we were shopping for the van, I bought our van at a Nissan dealer about an hour up the road, just to deal with friendlier people. Why are the service people fantastic and the sales people... pushy? Never mind, I think I just answered my own question.

When we were out in Pasadena last year, we could pick from two large, more or less run of the mill, grocery stores--Ralph's and Vons. One (Store A) was quite close to our apartment and the other (Store B) required a 5-10 minute drive. I won't tell you which one is which, but after the first visit to each one, I never went back to Store A unless it was an emergency trip. The employees were lackluster, hard to work with, and almost unfriendly. At Store B, if I stopped in an aisle for more than two minutes, an employee would inevitably stop and ask me if they could help me find anything. I had Larry, the friendly meat guy, who always took time to talk meat with me. (I miss Larry!) The cashiers were friendly and engaging, and if I ever needed help finding anything, any employee would cheerfully drop what they were doing and help me look.

It wasn't just me, either. A friend was at store A the day before her son's birthday and wanted to order a cake. She waited for ten minutes at the bakery counter for help and was ignored. She gave up and decided that she would go home and call Store B to order a cake. Well, she forgot. She got up on Saturday morning and panicked, wondering what she would do about a cake. Called the bakery at Store B as soon as they opened and begged for whatever they had for a cake. The employee cheerfully asked her what kind of cake she wanted, how she wanted it decorated, the works--all at the last minute.

I'm reasonably certain that different grocery stores probably pay their employees about the same amount. So I am a little boggled that one store could be so unpleasant, while a near neighbor is fantastic.

It comes up again and again. We just took the kids to Orlando for a mini vacation and although the hotel we stayed at was better than decent, it wasn't exciting enough to guarantee that I would want to come back on its own merits. However, the customer service was shining, and that would make me want to go back. It makes me feel welcome. That's why I kept going back to Store B, and that's why I keep going back to the local dealer. I value the service with a smile more than I value cheap labor.

I don't know, just something I was thinking about lately.

Starbucks and the Church

Some of you know how much I enjoy Starbucks. I know it has its detractors – from taste gurus to locals to why-is-it-on-every-corner-fatigue. But I love it. And I’m sure you’ve heard the news lately over Howard’s "transformation agenda" to refocus the store on its original mission and first things: taste, experience, community, etc. So when I picked up a free cup of the Pike Place Roast two weeks ago Wednesday, I couldn’t help but notice the original brown logo and new cup. But what really caught my attention was the wording on the cup under the jacket:

This is what we know to be true: We opened our very first store in Pike Place Market in Seattle, Washington, in 1971. We still roast our coffee ourselves. Less than 3% of the coffee in the world is good enough for Starbucks. We served the best cup of coffee 37 years ago, and we still do today. Introducing our new daily brew: Starbucks® Pike Place Roast.

It immediately made me think of Jesus and the church. Why? Because of these words:

Let me pass on to you what is of first importance. Christ died for our sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. Once we were no-family: now we are the family of God. And the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead nearly 2000 years ago is still calling women, men, and children to wake up to new life here. Now. Taste for yourself and see: the Lord is good!

Sure, it’s not all Scripture (I took a few liberties), but it rings true. And in an age where we pass so many churches with catchy slogans trying to reinvent themselves, wouldn’t it be refreshing and bracing to see, to experience, the essentials themselves?

packing up

Sorry for the quiet week. The reality is, not much to report. Teens came by all week long to help Andy and other staff box up their offices and load them into their cars to head for home or the new office. I went in one day to show the staff how to use the new online mail (hooray for Google Apps, not that some of them will ever use it, but it's nice to know that I've done my part to train them).

We had our final service at Covenant on Thursday, a joint service with both congregations attending. It was a lovely service--much more uplifting than many Maunday Thursday services I've attended. The music was provided mainly by the choir from Grove City College (I think, someplace like that in Pennsylvania anyway) and they were stunning--ethereal, reverent, delightful. Bill's sermon was wonderful...my main memory of it is that he opened with a personal story. It's unusual for a pastor, I think, but he is a very private person and it's rare for him to use a personal story as an illustration, which is unfortunate because I think it adds real depth to the message. The pastor is not just preaching the Word anymore, but he is showing us a little bit of himself in it, adding in his own humanity to share with us. And isn't that what God did with Jesus? The Word became flesh--he clothed himself in humanity and took everything that entailed upon himself. He took a love we couldn't understand because it is so far above us and brought it to us in his hands. Which we promptly nailed to a cross.

We noticed some tears towards the end of the service, but Andy's comment was he felt that they were shed mainly by those who had chosen to stay. I did notice one person in particular wiping away tears and I wondered what his/her thoughts were last night, the last night before we truly go our separate ways. A man from Covenant prayed for New Hope (kind of) and Bill prayed for Covenant (with much love and charity, which impressed me because my impression has been that he has been a focal point of more than a few attacks). I can't say that I was very sad last night, even as I sat with two of my children in the only church they have ever really known. There are faces that I know I will not see on a regular basis anymore, as they are choosing to stay, but many of those who are choosing to stay are unfamiliar to me, for varying reasons. The separation from the people I have come to call my church family is sad, but I feel no twinge of regret over the building, the property, or any of the things we are leaving behind. After all, that is all they are: just things.

I wish I could share deeply with you today, anything about Easter, but I will confess to having nothing. This week, Michael and I discussed God's inadequate battle tactics: instead of squashing Satan with his thumb, stepping down among us in his undeniable glory, or giving us signs which no one could dispute, he chose instead to send his only son in abject humility in order to rescue us. Beginning his career as a helpless newborn, learning masonry from Joseph, wandering Israel homeless for three years, and finally dying a painful and despicable death--really, is this the kind of God anyone in their right mind would choose to follow? I think not, but we do, each and every day. But one day, when we are confronted with the undeniable fact of his glory, when Jesus asks us, "Do you really love me?", we will be able to say, "Lord, you know that I love you." And he will know it, because we've loved him even when there was no good reason to do so. Easter is our reminder that glory waits for us beyond the cross, beyond the grave.

thoughts on the nativity

I received an email today which made me laugh out loud. This picture was attached.... a typical nativity set with one minor alteration, courtesy of four year old Ryan (whom you may remember from here). Do you see it?

Apparently, when the nativity was first set up, Ryan's question was, "Where's the witch?" He is a fan of the musical Wicked, which I have not seen, so can offer no commentary. Jason (my friend and Ryan's dad) explained that the witch isn't actually part of the story of Jesus' birth and left it at that. However, Ryan took matters into his own hands and Jason found the revised nativity set up like this today.

I think it's hilarious. I begged (yes, begged) Jason to let me share the picture and story with you. Although he is concerned that either I or Ryan will be blasted for blasphemy for it, he gave his consent, for which I am grateful. And I wanted to share the story because I think Ryan, little though he may know it, has a real point about what is missing from our standard nativity sets: the presence of evil.

I touched on it last year when our LA pastor preached on Herod's murder of the innocents. Evil did not stand idly by when God started his invasion. We sing songs like "Away in a Manger", which paint a painfully sweet picture of Jesus' birth. We slide right past the fact that Joseph and Mary are alone, in a barn (probably a cave), without any family nearby (probably ostracized), far from home, with no hospital, doctor, or midwife. When Herod began his massacre, Joseph and Mary fled to Egypt, even farther from family, and waited to come home until Herod's wrath was spent on the children of their friends, little boys that Jesus should have played with all his life. Revelation gives us the imagery of Satan as a red dragon, crouched at Mary's feet: "His tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the earth. The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that he might devour her child the moment it was born." (Revelation 12:4) People, Christmas is a story fraught with tension, danger, and evil. Our nativity sets are pretty, but they miss the story.

Jason, I would leave the witch right where she is. Our nativity sets can remind us that Jesus' birth is both a joyous time--peace on earth and good will to men--and a perilous time--the beginning of the Great Invasion. It's a crazy tactic for Jesus to surrender his power, to embrace humanity completely, to enter the world as a poor and defenseless infant, in order to storm the gates and reunite us with God. Unheard of. Of course Satan was there, lurking in the shadows. I'd leave the witch in.

I don't have a Wicked Witch at my house. I wonder if I can borrow one of Michael's dragons for our Little People nativity set?

couches, etc.

Jen, they are leather. Ooh la la! Very dreamy. A splurge, yes, but I think it will be worth it! I put together a panorama (OK, Photoshop put it together) to show you what the setup looks like now. I realize Michael looks goofy here, but he wanted to be in the picture and PS shrank him. not sure why; maybe it's because he's at the edge of the picture? I think one of my favorite parts about the whole setup is my grandmother's paintings over the couches. They look just about perfect there, or else the couches look just about perfect as an accent for them.


In other news, Andy is safely home and we are all glad. I wish he could have been sitting with me in church on Sunday... communion in the Fellowship Hall during the contemporary service. Either because it's where it is, or because it's contemporary, or because it's more casual, instead of passing the elements around, we walk forward to receive them. We sat up front, so we went first, and I spent the rest of the time openly watching everyone who walked forward (I know, I probably should have been praying or reflecting or something, for which I apologize).

People, they just shone. Or was it my eyes? I felt like I was home, watching these familiar, yet strange and new faces coming forward. So many had grown (like a foot each or something) and they were all beautiful, I kid you not. A year changes so much, but I think there was more than that. I really felt that I was watching the body of Christ, that we were all participating in this crazy, unifying, ancient ritual, however little we understand it. It was amazing. I cannot describe it other than to tell you that I was awed.

thoughts on tipping

Have you ever wondered what is the right amount to tip someone who has served you? I wonder that every single time I eat out, get my hair cut, have my car washed, or ask someone to watch my children. I wish there was a hard and fast rule (15% doesn’t always seem right, esp. when the babysitting rate is negotiable from the get-go, or when the service is bad, just mediocre, or really fantastic). We went to the car wash today and as I watched this man (old enough to be my father) carefully wiping each and every interior surface of my large van, I wondered, “How much is this service worth to me?”

One summer in college, I worked at a nice sit down restaurant. Working in a restaurant, even for a short time, really gives you a chance to see how those who serve are treated by those who are served. Are our servants (so to speak) all hard workers? No, not necessarily. Are our servants all nice people? Hardly. Are our servants underpaid? Or overpaid? I do not know. Are our servants images of the living God? Absolutely. I can remember cringing at the derision in my coworkers’ voices when they had been left a tract by the customers—a tract accompanied by a lousy tip. Did they need to know Jesus? Sure they did. But what I found was more important was that they needed to know that those who claimed to love Jesus could show that love to them, to the stranger in the apron.

If you went to Wheaton with me, you will remember the Forum Wall in the MSC, where anyone and everyone could post notes, pictures, and treatises. Do you remember the one put up by the local waiter (or was it a waitress?)? I remember that he blasted each and every one of us for being rude, demanding, and cheap. I remember that he told us that local wait staff hated having us as customers because we could be relied on to never leave a good tip. I know students are notoriously poor, but maybe God would be better served if we stayed home instead of stiffing the waitress.

Over the past several years, I have decided that it is important to err on the side of excess in tipping some people: my hairstylist, for example, and the girls who watch my children for me. These are people I will ask to serve me again (and my children and my hair are both important to me). What about the car wash guy, though, or the waitress who forgot that I wanted another Diet Coke? Chances are good that I won’t see them again, or if I do, they won’t remember me. But what if I do? Or, if I don’t, does it matter? If that waitress saw me praying with my children, I feel like I ought to show her that her care for me is important, even if she didn’t do a fantastic job. After all, my children lavish me with kisses and hugs even when I do a lousy job as a mother. The car wash guy didn’t see me praying, but shouldn’t I show him generous love anyway? I hate washing my car and when I take it in, it is generally full of fingerprints and old crumbs. The service provided is worth a lot to me, probably more than the car wash charges (although I won’t tell them that). Maybe, just maybe, my tip will mean more to him than it does to me.

Maybe my tips aren’t noticed by those I tip. Maybe they are. If they are noticed, if I am noticed, I want it to be for the love I show to those who have taken the time to serve me. They are doing the work that I am choosing not to do for myself: cooking, washing dishes, vacuuming my van. If I am rich enough to be served, then I guess maybe I need to view it as an opportunity to love on a fellow child of God. I still don’t know how much is too much, but I hope that if I make a mistake, it is on the side of love.

i believe in fairy tales

These thoughts are largely inspired by the Easter service we experienced today at Mosaic. A podcast will be available through their website.

He is risen!

He is risen indeed!

Humanity has long dreamed of its gods coming to earth and entering into the human experience. The Greek gods especially were persistent in their visitations, mainly conjugal (and they seemed to avoid taking on human form). Other cultures imagined their gods descending, too: creating, teaching, interfering, and testing. Is the Christian dream of Jesus any different? Is Jesus humanity’s dream come true? What makes Christianity unique?

In Jesus, we find a god who refuses to come for a visit. Instead, he intentionally sets aside the powers, rights, and privileges of godhood and enters humanity on its lowest level, as a hungry newborn of outcast parents, claiming only the questionable status of an illegitimate child. Once he embarks on his inaugural tour of his chosen nation and people, he is shunned by the learned and embraced by the poor and “sinners”. Instead of awe and acclamation, he receives rejection and finally, crucifixion. The prophet Isaiah said it this way:

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

What was it about him that we just didn’t get? What did we fail to recognize? Does it make any sense at all that a god would walk among humanity and be told, “No thanks, you’re just not what were looking for” as if he were a job applicant?

I think that in this instance, truth truly is stranger than fiction. Our ideas of a godly visitation are waking dreams, visions of how this existence could be spectacular and elevated beyond the ordinary. This whole experience with Jesus doesn’t appeal to us. Somehow it seems so banal, even dirty, and it’s just not what we would have chosen. We could have written a better story ourselves if we were allowed. We love fairy tales; the prince is always supposed to slay the dragon and win the heart of the princess. The prince is never supposed to die. The god who descends for his pleasure or to evaluate some specimen of humanity and then retreats to Mount Olympus for high tea just seems so much more… well, godly.

My point is that Jesus makes sense just because we wouldn’t have dreamed him up. Our dreams do have a basis in reality; the fault lies with us if we refuse to accept the reality just because it doesn’t square with our wishes. While those other gods stopped by to take their pleasure, or to see if humanity was keeping up standards, or to sway a battle in one direction or another (poor Hector!), this god was different. Jesus didn’t come for himself; he came for us. I don’t doubt that he enjoyed much of his time as a man, but wouldn’t you have been frustrated by spending your time with a group of guys who were stubborn, confused, and only loyal until you were arrested and tried for your life? I would have been. Not to mention growing up as a social bastard because my parents weren’t married when I was conceived; not to mention having no roof over my head; not to mention going into all this knowing that the end of the story was my own death, that this prince would be slain by the dragon. Yeah, I would probably have spent some time looking over my shoulder for the next applicant, too.

Jesus doesn’t. In fact, he steadfastly refuses to take an easy escape route. Instead, he submits himself to the authority of those he created. The last hours of his life are spent in pain, humiliation, and torture. Finally, he receives a criminal’s death on a cross hanging between two thieves. The prince has died; the fairy tale has played false; there is no happy ending. Friday is desolate.

If the story ended on Friday, Jesus would be a character in a fairy tale read by no one. This god’s visit would be a failure and we would continue to tell visitation stories and dream of a true fairytale prince to lift us above our human existence.

However.

This isn’t just any god, or just any fairy tale. This is the One, the True Story, with the True Prince. And the ending? It is the ultimate Happy Ending. This story ends, not on Friday, but on Sunday instead, and the grave is empty. The Prince has died, grappled with Death, and triumphed. Death itself was the dragon, and Jesus conquered Death once and for all. Jesus’ victory over death, his resurrection, it was all for us—to rob Death of its power and renew our hope in eternity. Jesus has died, true, but Jesus has risen from the dead. For us, life is Christ, and death is now gain.

There are no more dragons to slay, but we continue to dream. We long for happy endings because we are destined for one. We are not destined for tragedy and for death. There is a fairy tale which is better than we could ever have imagined, precisely because it is beyond our wildest dreams. Imagine, if you will, a god who loves us so ardently that he cast everything aside, embraced humanity at its most visceral level, submitted even to Death itself, only to rise again in a new, glorified body, and crush Death’s power forever. Having done all this, he extends his hands, the hands that we nailed to a cross, to welcome us into his kingdom. Now that is a fairy tale to believe in.

regression

My father reminded me that I am overdue for a family update (or any kind of new post, I guess). I am afraid that I don't have much to share with you, but here is where we're at:

My dear friend Mylissa just flew in from Memphis for a visit, which was lovely. It struck me that although we've been friends since our oldest were toddlers, this is only the second time that one of us has stayed the night at the other's house--the first was this past summer as our family stayed with hers on our way out here. We had an enjoyable, pretty low key visit, and Mylissa is right back in the thick of things back home... check out her doings at Habitat for Hope's site.

Michael now understands the rudiments of the four basic math operations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, division). He really enjoyed the new concepts of "greater than" and "less than" which we hit last week. The concept of alligators is thanks to my fourth grade math teacher, whose name I unfortunately cannot remember. He has been introduced to the characters of The Lord of the Rings and has developed an intense interest in the same. He's been begging us to read it to him but we resisted, saying he needed to read The Hobbit first, thinking that would delay him for quite a while--until he was emotionally ready to confront the Black Riders. Well, it delayed him about two days. He spent those days hunched over The Hobbit, following Bilbo There and Back Again, and then demanded that we start on the series. He really read it, too--I asked pointed questions about what happened and he knew. The child amazes me. What's next?

Caroline has moved on from teaching herself addition to teaching herself subtraction. If you have preschool children who are interested in math, or who are not interested in math, or elementary children struggling with math, whatever, I highly recommend a set (or two) of Cuisenaire rods. These things rock. Michael was already doing some mental math when we started with them so he doesn't seem to need them very much, but Caroline started out playing with these, just playing, then moved on to building "trains" ("What do you put with a purple rod to make an orange rod?"), then asked for worksheets, and has never looked back. I taught her nothing about addition and very little about subtraction--and she just gets it. She rarely if ever needs the rods for addition at this point. Did I mention that these things rock?

By the way, for those of you who knew we were on the fence about schooling for next year, we have decided to keep Michael and Caroline at home for another year instead of trying to run the school choice gauntlet long distance. It would have been doable, but Michael insists that he wants to continue homeschooling and I think we'd like to go another round.

Elanor has had an interesting couple of weeks and bears the dubious honor of having this entry named for her. She potty trained quickly at the end of October/beginning of November last year. It was truly an effortless experience. I've trained two children, each with their own little quirks (Michael's: needing constant coaching and encouragement to stay on the toilet long enough to make a real "deposit", hence the need for "poo poo stories"; Caroline's: several months of losing bladder control every time she lost her temper, which if you knew her back then, you know was about four times each day), and, until last week, Elanor had none. She was perfect. Last week, however, Elanor apparently forgot that she was potty trained. She started having accidents everywhere. At the kitchen table. On a chair in the playroom. In the bathroom. Hanging off a gate outside of church. In her bed. Several each day. Total regression. Thankfully she seems to be over it. But she is sleeping on a towel.

It made me think of a blog post I read last fall--look here. I thought then, and think now, that the author has a really good point. We do love to think of God as "Daddy" and "Father" and he has encouraged that. But I know from watching Andy that any good father spends quite a lot of time coaxing his children, humiliating himself, and cleaning up their messes. And doing all those things with patience, love, and consistency. Elanor may have backslid on her potty training... and I confess I rolled my eyes more than once... but how often do I backslide in my own faith? Does God roll his eyes over my accidents and mistakes? I doubt it. Like Andy with Elanor, he cleans me up, loves on me, and sends me on my way, hoping that this time I will make it.

more self revelation

The real truth of the matter does not actually lie in the fact that I am not a fun person. I guess I have to moderate that observation and say that I am not very fun. Mylissa should still come visit. Jenny should still come, too.

I have been pondering more and have concluded that possibly the main reason guests can be a stress for me is that I am not a good housekeeper. I accumulate clutter. I fight back. Sometimes quite successfully. Now is not one of those times. I am not consistent in cleaning (although the kitchen and the bathroom get the most attention, I promise you are never going to sit on a dirty toilet. Everything else may be dirty, but your food and your body will be clean.). Although I vacuum quite a lot nowadays and you can be thankful for that!

The other issue is that when one has company (let me transition into third person for a moment please), one does not care to waste valuable visiting time with frivolous matters such as cleaning or paying bills.

Which is why I have a significant backlog of both to address. So if you have been feeling guilty for your visit (past, pending, or future), feel guilt no more. The fault lies entirely with me.

one thing i have learned about myself

I am not sure how exactly this happened, but it is a curious item: we moved 3000 miles away from most of the people we know and suddenly have had a real stream of visitors. Do you like us better from a distance and just want to come out for a quick "fix" for a few days? We really thought we couldn't get much farther away from people than we did when we moved to Florida, but we've done it now. And you didn't come visit us there (some of you did, no, I'm not ignoring you). Of course, some of you actually live there so a visit was pointless, and now it's not.

Seriously, we love having the company. The kids love it because they get extra attention (my favorite person in the house is not the computer, but the kids sure need to be careful about interrupting me while I'm using it) and get to play with a different person every time they turn around. We also get to eat out more and do more fun things, like go hiking or spend an afternoon at the beach.

Which brings me to this self revelation. I am not a fun person. Really, I am not. Many of you are probably wondering why it took me this long to figure that out, since you've known it as long as you've known me, and actually it was not a huge surprise to me. It is just different to have finally verbalized it to myself. What brings it out is this: company expects me to be more fun than my kids do. Don't get me wrong, I love going to the beach, spending a day hiking, riding things at Disney, rooting for the winning team at the Rose Bowl, and all of the other things we have done in the past month. It has been a lot of fun and we are certainly doing well on our goal to enjoy California as much as possible in the short time we are here.

However. I am actually more introverted than otherwise and really enjoy time by myself. With kids, that is really hard to come by. With kids and company.... well, just kiss it goodbye. My laptop misses me. Andy and my father think that I don't use it much anymore, but it's kind of a combination of factors. I miss my laptop. I'm thinking about selling my laptop but have a real anxiety about living without one for an extended period of time because I want to be using it. I really do! And I want to be using it for more enjoyable things than paying bills and balancing the checkbook. I know those days will return. Probably not when the company leaves, more like when the kids leave. Ouch.

Gotta go finish cleaning the bathroom for the next guest. Reservations are requested at least 48 hours in advance. We'll leave the light on for you!