The woman sat along the side of the road, alone in the crowd. No one recognized her. She might as well not be there. She was a woman of means, or had been once. Lauded for her works and her personality. The center of the social scene.
Now, money gone, she was reduced to this. She didn't care about the money or the attention. She just wanted some slice of what she'd had before. When Jonathan had died, he'd left her a good deal. She would never want for anything, and as a result, instead of moving in with her son, as was custom, she stayed on her own. Her son lived three days' walk away. Leaving would cut her off from everyone she knew and loved. The synagogue--this synagogue--was her life, even if she wasn't really a full member as the men were.
She laughed as she remembered. They'd been able to help so many, yet when she became...inflicted...when she became inflicted, the nature of her affliction cut her off from the same type of help she'd given so many others.
She was unclean. It wasn't that she could do anything about it. She couldn't. Neither could anyone else. All of Jonathan's money had gone to people who'd tried and failed. And, by Law, she wasn't allowed to be part of anything. She could live, though she's increasingly had to beg for food. She just couldn't be part of anything. Her life, once so rich because of her ability to be part of something, was barren.
Though she was cast out as unclean, she's still dared talk to G-d, approach Him and beg him for restitution. She didn't care about the money or the opulence. She missed the people. Elizabeth and Hannah and Ruth and Deborah, all of them. She could see their faces with her eyes open, even. Hear their voices. Feel their embrace, though not one had dared touch her in more than a year. Hannah had at first, which made her unclean, too. After a couple weeks, Levi had demanded she stop. He'd been spoken to about propriety and having an unclean wife, even if she were helping someone.
This morning, when she'd gotten up, she'd thought once again about ending it. She could walk out into the desert more than a day out, and wait for the end. Of swim out in the sea. With her luck, someone would stop and save her, bring her back, then understand what she was and cast her out again.
But as soon as those thoughts had faded, and they usually did, new thoughts replaced them. When she'd said her morning prayers, she'd first noticed the impulse. As she continued, it had grown stronger, until she was almost propelled to this spot where the throng had gathered. As she sat and waited, she became curiously peaceful. When she needed to do something, she'd know. She wasn't quite sure how she'd know, but she'd know.
Meanwhile, she sat. She supposed that if this didn't work, it could be the last thing. She could walk into the desert and disappear. Move away from the main roads and wait for final peace. She'd always found solace in those thoughts before, but this morning, something within her rebelled against them, almost violently, to the point where she stood up rather abruptly without even realizing it.
The crowd had changed now. Instead of milling around, the people were directed at something. At someone. When she following the focus of attention, she found herself watching a man walk away. He wasn't much of a man. In a fight, he'd be worthless. He was sinewy and small, but for a second her eyes met his and something happened within her.
Without realizing it, she followed him. She was drawn to that man, to his eyes. There was something about him. She followed him as if propelled at first, almost as if she were driven. She tried to fight it at first. After all, what could this simple little man have to offer her, the filthy, unclean widow? The embarrassment to herself and God that everyone avoid.
She didn't have to push anyone. Somehow they just moved to allow her to get closer. Before she knew it, she was within a man's height of him, then within arm's length. She saw her arm reach out to his cloak and though she thought it might be good to pull it back, so this stranger would not be unclean like she was, it touched him. Actually, she only got his shawl.
Whatever spell had driven her to him, and it must have be insanity borne of loneliness, it broke when she touched it.
What have I done? She thought. She slid away through the crowd, unaware that they had stopped because the man had stopped.
"Who touched me?" she heard the voice say. It wasn't much of a voice and he hadn't spoken loudly, though somehow she heard it above the din.
"What?" another man asked. She turned to face them. The other man was much bigger and had a dark tan and calloused hands. He looked rough. "Master, there are so many people here, how could you ask who touched you?"
"I felt the power go out of me," the slight man said. "Someone touched me."
The crowd now understood that something had changed and how now stopped and started looking around. She swallowed. This would be it, she thought. This would be the final humiliation before she allowed death to claim her. He would curse her for making him unclean and then she could die.
She looked at him, met his eyes again, and suddenly, she felt naked and vulnerable, as if all her secrets were known to him. She felt little, worse than she'd felt since the discharges had started.
"Who touched me?" he said softly, looking at her with those piercing eyes that knew everything.
"I did," she said, her voice so soft she could barely hear it. She trembled now and felt her own frailty more fully than ever before. The crowd parted before her and she approached the man. She felt like crying, like laying everything out to him and asking him for comfort. Instead, she fell at his feet. She knew her place and it wasn't speaking as an equal to this man. Although she'd tried to live a good life, G-d had obviously cursed her for something.
"I've had a discharge for a year. I'm unclean and nothing can stop it. I'm sorry to have made you unclean, too, sir. Please let me go so I can die in peace."
She could see the grains of sand before her eyes as she wished for the end of her now-pathetic life.
Then, she felt his hand on her back. This man knew she was unclean and yet he was touching her. The soft and gentle touch, almost a caress reminded her of Jonathan and she closed her eyes and pushed back tears.
"Get up," he said to her gently. She sat back so she was kneeling in front of him and he put his hand out. She extended hers to him and he lifted her from her kneeling position.
"Thank you," he said. His voice soothed her, like a thousand harps. Slowly she raised her head so that she looked him in the eyes again. She felt a jolt of fear. Somehow she knew this man knew all about her. But the fear quickly subsided.
"Why did you touch me?"
"I-I don't know," she said.
He smiled at her and she swallowed. His gaze was unflinching, uncompromising, but she was coming to realize that it wasn't threatening.
"Why did you touch me?"
"Oh my Lord," she heard her voice say. "I just want so much to be clean again."
She burst into tears, unable to stop them, magnifying this, her final, most public humiliation. He reached up with his other hand and touched her cheek, raising her face to his.
"Shhhh," he said. "My daughter, your faith has saved you. Go now, in peace, offer the appropriate sacrifice to God who loves you, and be cured of your affliction."
"What?"
"I promise you," he said.
"Ye-Yes, my lord," she said. He smiled at her again and squeezed her hand, then turned from her. She was homeless now, and there weren't many places a woman could find privacy, but she finally found one and looked and the discharge was gone. The stains in her clothes were gone. It was like it had never happened. She felt to her knees and wept again as the realization of her new circumstance saturated her. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up again.
"Hannah," she said.
Hannah smiled at her and took both her hands and helped her to her feet.
"Welcome home," Hannah said.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Alone again...not really
When I got laid off, I felt like I was alone.
As much as work in a pain in the butt, it's a social interaction, one where you can commisserate with those who are more or less in the same boat. After all, if a person or process is a pain to one person in the department, everyone else is likely in the same position.
When you're laid off, you lose that support structure. At the risk of being sexist, when you're a man, it's worse. After all, from childhood, you're brought up to be responsible, to be "the man" who brings home the bacon and makes the problems go away. You're supposed to be the unflinching, stoic rock who solves problems and makes things right, dispensing wisdom and making sure the bills get paid. For the kids of my generation, you're supposed to be Mike Brady.
When I got laid off, I felt a lot of pressure to make sure the bills got paid, but also to not add to the stress and the problems. And that's one of the places I have ample room for improvement if I'm ever laid off again. I tried to handle it all myself and encapsulate the stress and worry, and in doing do, I just added more stress, first to myself, and inevitably to the entire house.
To be sure, I had a wonderful support structure. My wife never even hinted, as hard as things got, at leaving. And I'm sure I made things much more difficult for her than they could have been.
I also have a group of guys I've met with on Saturday mornings since 1998. Without them and their support, I'm not sure what would have happened.
That's the great illusion of life. Though we're brought up, especially as men, to be rugged individualists, we are really part of a web of people. At times, we need that web to help support us, and that's okay because at times, we form the part of the web that helps support others.
In that way, our hands become, for lack of a better phrase, the hands of God, with support both freely given and freely accepted when we need it.
No matter how bad things are, the simple fact of the matter is, you are most likely not alone. The trick is to recognize that and accept the support.
As much as work in a pain in the butt, it's a social interaction, one where you can commisserate with those who are more or less in the same boat. After all, if a person or process is a pain to one person in the department, everyone else is likely in the same position.
When you're laid off, you lose that support structure. At the risk of being sexist, when you're a man, it's worse. After all, from childhood, you're brought up to be responsible, to be "the man" who brings home the bacon and makes the problems go away. You're supposed to be the unflinching, stoic rock who solves problems and makes things right, dispensing wisdom and making sure the bills get paid. For the kids of my generation, you're supposed to be Mike Brady.
When I got laid off, I felt a lot of pressure to make sure the bills got paid, but also to not add to the stress and the problems. And that's one of the places I have ample room for improvement if I'm ever laid off again. I tried to handle it all myself and encapsulate the stress and worry, and in doing do, I just added more stress, first to myself, and inevitably to the entire house.
To be sure, I had a wonderful support structure. My wife never even hinted, as hard as things got, at leaving. And I'm sure I made things much more difficult for her than they could have been.
I also have a group of guys I've met with on Saturday mornings since 1998. Without them and their support, I'm not sure what would have happened.
That's the great illusion of life. Though we're brought up, especially as men, to be rugged individualists, we are really part of a web of people. At times, we need that web to help support us, and that's okay because at times, we form the part of the web that helps support others.
In that way, our hands become, for lack of a better phrase, the hands of God, with support both freely given and freely accepted when we need it.
No matter how bad things are, the simple fact of the matter is, you are most likely not alone. The trick is to recognize that and accept the support.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
When I Got Laid Off
On May 25, 2001, I got laid off. Tampa is a very small town when it comes to the IT industry, and when the industry goes through a major correction, as it did from late 2000 until early 2003, everyone suffers. A company that was located two floors down from my former company started work one day with 120 based at that location and ended the day with six. When the ax dropped on me, the severence pay was a pittance, but then again, to give us more, they'd have to lay off more people.
To be coarse about it, the experience sucked. It's a coarse word, but the experience isn't easy. After all, we're socialized in this country that a man is the provider for his family and the Bible even says that someone who doesn't provide for his family is worse than a non-believer.
To make a long story short, I was out of work for almost two years. We scraped by with whatever came my way in terms of work. I was paid a total of eight weeks of unemployment. We never defaulted on a bill. We still live in the house we had when I got laid off. When we exhausted COBRA, my wife took a job at Walgreen's for the health benefits. Although there are financial repercussions we still feel today, we made it through intact (and if you get laid off and keep your head, so will you).
But the experience was life-changing. As I feel like writing about it, I'll tell you how it changed my life. I can't say life is better because I got laid off, but I can say that I have a greater understanding about life.
The first misconception shattered by getting laid off was the idea that I'm in control. I've never been in control of much--and deep down, I always knew that. But the experience of being laid off laid waste to any fantasies of control I had. There's only one thing I can control, and that's how I react. I did a number of things wrong when I was laid off, but one thing I didn't do was give up. I controlled how hard I looked for work and the job I did when I found it. Within a month, I had temporary work. And I went from job to job until the time I was hired by my current employer in March 2003.
When I got the jobs, I worked hard at them. Because my continued employment was based on day-to-day productivity and quality, my work was never better than when I could go away at any time. I provided value to the people I worked for, and every contract I started got extended. I was a disaster in a lot of other areas, but that's an area in which I excelled. I had to. I had people counting on me. As the cliche goes, failure was not an option. And failure did not happen.
I controlled how hard I worked and how creative I was in finding and taking advantage of opportunities. I failed miserably at understanding the boundary of what I controlled and didn't.
More on that another time.
To be coarse about it, the experience sucked. It's a coarse word, but the experience isn't easy. After all, we're socialized in this country that a man is the provider for his family and the Bible even says that someone who doesn't provide for his family is worse than a non-believer.
To make a long story short, I was out of work for almost two years. We scraped by with whatever came my way in terms of work. I was paid a total of eight weeks of unemployment. We never defaulted on a bill. We still live in the house we had when I got laid off. When we exhausted COBRA, my wife took a job at Walgreen's for the health benefits. Although there are financial repercussions we still feel today, we made it through intact (and if you get laid off and keep your head, so will you).
But the experience was life-changing. As I feel like writing about it, I'll tell you how it changed my life. I can't say life is better because I got laid off, but I can say that I have a greater understanding about life.
The first misconception shattered by getting laid off was the idea that I'm in control. I've never been in control of much--and deep down, I always knew that. But the experience of being laid off laid waste to any fantasies of control I had. There's only one thing I can control, and that's how I react. I did a number of things wrong when I was laid off, but one thing I didn't do was give up. I controlled how hard I looked for work and the job I did when I found it. Within a month, I had temporary work. And I went from job to job until the time I was hired by my current employer in March 2003.
When I got the jobs, I worked hard at them. Because my continued employment was based on day-to-day productivity and quality, my work was never better than when I could go away at any time. I provided value to the people I worked for, and every contract I started got extended. I was a disaster in a lot of other areas, but that's an area in which I excelled. I had to. I had people counting on me. As the cliche goes, failure was not an option. And failure did not happen.
I controlled how hard I worked and how creative I was in finding and taking advantage of opportunities. I failed miserably at understanding the boundary of what I controlled and didn't.
More on that another time.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
When God tests us
In The Purpose-Driven Life, Rick Warren writes:
But sometimes, the problems just happen. When I got laid off, it was because I worked in an industry that had gone insane and needed a correction. The nature of life is such that bad things are sometimes going to happen.
It is also the nature of life that sometimes, God will feel distant. It could be that we're not where we're supposed to be. But it could also be that life gets busy and sometimes it takes everything just to keep up. Either way, God doesn't teach to be dependent on Him by withdrawing from us. If that teaches us anything, it's how to become more self-reliant. Sometimes things just happen.
There's a great danger in these conversations of falling into a black-and-white construct in which everything good comes from God and everything bad comes from us. Just as sometimes bad things are our fault and sometimes they aren't; sometimes good things come from God and sometimes they're the result of our own creativeness and hard work.
God is the one who provided talents and a situation in which we can and should use them. But when we use them and do the right thing, we can feel a certain satisfaction of accomplishment.
In short, God is not a puppetmaster, and neither has He created a circumstance where we can only fail. Finally, He doesn't test us just to see how much we measure up. He is our loving father and is always as close by as our asking.
I don't believe that. I don't believe that God goes out of His way to make bad things happen to us so that we'll pull closer to Him. A lot of the bad things are self-inflicted. I don't take care of my body and then I have medical problems. I don't put out at work and I get laid off. These are things that we do, and the bad things that follow them aren't from God. They are the natural consequences of our actions.To mature your friendship, God will test it with periods of seeming separation--times when it feels as if He has abandoned or forgotten you....[T]his feeling of abandonment or estrangement from God has nothing to do with sin. It is a test of faith.
But sometimes, the problems just happen. When I got laid off, it was because I worked in an industry that had gone insane and needed a correction. The nature of life is such that bad things are sometimes going to happen.
It is also the nature of life that sometimes, God will feel distant. It could be that we're not where we're supposed to be. But it could also be that life gets busy and sometimes it takes everything just to keep up. Either way, God doesn't teach to be dependent on Him by withdrawing from us. If that teaches us anything, it's how to become more self-reliant. Sometimes things just happen.
There's a great danger in these conversations of falling into a black-and-white construct in which everything good comes from God and everything bad comes from us. Just as sometimes bad things are our fault and sometimes they aren't; sometimes good things come from God and sometimes they're the result of our own creativeness and hard work.
God is the one who provided talents and a situation in which we can and should use them. But when we use them and do the right thing, we can feel a certain satisfaction of accomplishment.
In short, God is not a puppetmaster, and neither has He created a circumstance where we can only fail. Finally, He doesn't test us just to see how much we measure up. He is our loving father and is always as close by as our asking.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Hitting with My Son
My right arm and shoulder hurt tonight. I should probably take some Motrin.
My son played baseball for the first time last year. He improved over the fall season and again in the spring season, but if he didn't practice and get some time in getting comfortable with the bat, glove, and ball, there's only so much he'll be able to do come fall. So we've been going out a couple times a week working on hitting, throwing, and fielding.
We started with 20 baseballs in the ball bag and someplace picked up three more. I cycle through the bag five times, so he sees 100 balls twice a week. Now that he's hitting better, I can field some of the balls that come back to me and I just turn around and pitch them again. So tonight, he probably got someplace around 130 pitches. Some of them were almost as hard as I could throw, and while he wasn't scorching the ball, he was making contact with almost every pitch. And that's why my arm hurts tonight.
It feels good.
I'm hoping that when he gets older, whether he ever goes anyplace with baseball or not, he remembers that he worked at something and got better, and that it was worth the effort.
More than that, I hope he remembers that someone gave a damn.
My son played baseball for the first time last year. He improved over the fall season and again in the spring season, but if he didn't practice and get some time in getting comfortable with the bat, glove, and ball, there's only so much he'll be able to do come fall. So we've been going out a couple times a week working on hitting, throwing, and fielding.
We started with 20 baseballs in the ball bag and someplace picked up three more. I cycle through the bag five times, so he sees 100 balls twice a week. Now that he's hitting better, I can field some of the balls that come back to me and I just turn around and pitch them again. So tonight, he probably got someplace around 130 pitches. Some of them were almost as hard as I could throw, and while he wasn't scorching the ball, he was making contact with almost every pitch. And that's why my arm hurts tonight.
It feels good.
I'm hoping that when he gets older, whether he ever goes anyplace with baseball or not, he remembers that he worked at something and got better, and that it was worth the effort.
More than that, I hope he remembers that someone gave a damn.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
My Daughter
Thirteen years ago, my daughter was born. I am a different and better person because of her and I admire her greatly. If I had heroes, she would be one of them.
No good deed...
Jesus said to his disciples: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father. When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.
“When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you. Matthew 6:1-6 (NAB)
We've all been through it. You go out of your way to do something for someone, to make a real difference, and your efforts are met with a mix of indifference, hostility, and entitlement. After all, no good deed goes unpunished. And if you've done it for someone once, well, you own it, and it expected from now on.
In some cases, your attempts to serve someone--to be a decent human being and try to make things easier--sow seeds of contempt. After all, if you're my servant, I'm entitled to the service and get to it!
So why bother? Why go the extra mile? If I'm going to get hostility in return for my efforts, why make the effort?
When I read this passage of Gospel, it turned the entire scenario around. Prayer isn't just what you do on your knees in your room with the door shut, or before meals, or at church on Sunday. Prayer is the active use of what you have to serve God and those around you, as well. And if you pray, you do it for others, but for Him, too. And if you do the nice things for people and they thank you and notice, then you have gotten a reward, which is always nice. But if you do something nice and you are met with indifference or hostility, it's still noticed. Your heavenly Father sees and appreciates that, and will reward it.
So it's not a pointless exercise. On the contrary, it's a very important exercise. For when God came to earth in human form, He received no less, and look at the results of that. Doing good is as valuable a thing as there is, even when it's met with hostility.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Why bother?
Sometimes it seems as if it doesn't matter what you do? The outcome seems like a forgone conclusion. The winners will win; the losers will lose. Live goes on today the same way it did yesterday and the day before that. For all the times we say that change is the only constant in life, that's really not true. Things evolve over time, but revolution is rare.
So you sit and plug away at what God's supposed purpose is for your life and it's the same today as it was yesterday, which is the same as the day before. Others may excel or crash and burn, but life isn't like college football, where you get eleven chances and that's it. It's like baseball, where you get up every day and go at it. Sometimes the winners stink it up and the losers do everything right, but more often than not, at the end, it works as expected.
God doesn't predestine us for victory or defeat, but we sure do it to ourselves and each other. Once you project the aura of a winner, you're seen that way. And once you project the aura of a loser, it doesn't much matter what you do.
It is worth the effort to work extra-hard to change the perception? Maybe.
So you sit and plug away at what God's supposed purpose is for your life and it's the same today as it was yesterday, which is the same as the day before. Others may excel or crash and burn, but life isn't like college football, where you get eleven chances and that's it. It's like baseball, where you get up every day and go at it. Sometimes the winners stink it up and the losers do everything right, but more often than not, at the end, it works as expected.
God doesn't predestine us for victory or defeat, but we sure do it to ourselves and each other. Once you project the aura of a winner, you're seen that way. And once you project the aura of a loser, it doesn't much matter what you do.
It is worth the effort to work extra-hard to change the perception? Maybe.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Why can't this time be sometime?
The last time I made a good decision getting a car, it was 1989 and I bought a lovely blue Honda Civic 3-door hatch. The losing streak continued with the last car, a 1999 Kia Sportage that wouldn't start when we got a little more than three-quarters of the way to Huntington, West Virginia.
But, with little hiccups here and there, that car wasn't too bad--until it his 60,000 miles. Then it started stalling and not starting. After $1,500 of this, that, and the other thing, it stopped stalling--mostly--but continued to be a crapshoot in starting.
The worst, the time when I just couldn't deal with it any more, was about a month ago when I took my son and his friend to a ballgame in St. Pete. We got there fine. Got back fine. But we stopped at Kane's furniture on the way home for pizza certificates because the Rays' starting pitcher had struck out more than ten. It took nearly 15 minutes for the car to start. Never, I though, would I get another car. Well, functionally never. In the meantime, I'd baby the Sportage until it just died.
Now, a month later, I have a new car, which is something I didn't think we could afford. After dropping more than two grand on the sick cat, it's going to be a little tighter than we want it to be, but that's how it goes.
Sometimes when you think everything is cast in stone and nothing can change, it all does. Why can't this time be sometime?
But, with little hiccups here and there, that car wasn't too bad--until it his 60,000 miles. Then it started stalling and not starting. After $1,500 of this, that, and the other thing, it stopped stalling--mostly--but continued to be a crapshoot in starting.
The worst, the time when I just couldn't deal with it any more, was about a month ago when I took my son and his friend to a ballgame in St. Pete. We got there fine. Got back fine. But we stopped at Kane's furniture on the way home for pizza certificates because the Rays' starting pitcher had struck out more than ten. It took nearly 15 minutes for the car to start. Never, I though, would I get another car. Well, functionally never. In the meantime, I'd baby the Sportage until it just died.
Now, a month later, I have a new car, which is something I didn't think we could afford. After dropping more than two grand on the sick cat, it's going to be a little tighter than we want it to be, but that's how it goes.
Sometimes when you think everything is cast in stone and nothing can change, it all does. Why can't this time be sometime?
Someplace to go
Still, you insist on sincerity of heart; in my inmost being teach me wisdom. Cleanse me with hyssop, that I may be pure; wash me, make me whiter than snow. Let me hear sounds of joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Turn away your face from my sins; blot out all my guilt. A clean heart create for me, God; renew in me a steadfast spirit. Do not drive me from your presence, nor take from me your holy spirit. Restore my joy in your salvation; sustain in me a willing spirit. -- Psalm 51:8-14
Jesus is the one, at the end of the day, when you've tried your best and failed anyway, He's the one who takes you back. When the day is nothing but a series of egregious errors and stupid mistakes and frustration and anger, when you sit in the dark just before sleep and you need someone to not turn their back on you, Jesus is the one.
Paul has talked about groans that exceed human comprehension in prayer. In a way, it reminds me of the cries of Westley in The Princess Bride, when he has lost his true love. His heart is breaking and he has no place to go. We have someplace to go.
And so, having that someplace to go, we also try to be someplace for someone else whose groans transcend language.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
What I've Gotten for Father's Day
It was Father's Day today. I got two seasons worth of Magnum, P. I. on DVD, a pair of shorts, and a Synchro DAD t-shirt, the last, specifically from my daughter, who spent the weekend helping the coaches at a Synchronized Swimming meet.
My daughter turns 13 this week. We only have her for a few more years before she starts on her own life. My son isn't far behind.
The gifts I got for Father's Day today were nice, but they weren't meaningful. The little girl laughed for the first time at the Pooh ornament in Reston, VA in 1993. The pre-teen telling me that I'm the best dad in the whole world, though I doubted it at the time. The sweet, smart, wonderful girl who hugs me and kisses me and tells me that she loves me before she goes to bed at night. The one who still screeches like a five-year-old when I tickle her.
The little boy whose first diaper change at home came just a little too late to avoid dirty sheets. The one who climbed the boxes in the living room before he was one when we'd moved to Florida in 1998. The little kid who took about a year to run the bases at Devil Rays fan fest. The one who told me at Cub Scout day camp that the B on my Red Sox cap stood for BOO!
I remember the morning both my kids were born. Laura was gestational diabetic, so we had induced labor. I remember seeing Jane McDonald in her minivan as we drove down the Dulles Toll Road the morning of June 21, 1993. And I remember dropping Jenny off at her friend's house before dawn the morning of October 10, 1997.
I remember cutting Jenny's umbilical cord and having Dan's footprint stamped on my arm. I remember Jenny being angry that she got a little brother instead of a sister...until she went to the hospital and held him.
These things and a million more memories are worth far more than the money we'd have if we didn't have any kids. They are the best Father's Day present ever.
My daughter turns 13 this week. We only have her for a few more years before she starts on her own life. My son isn't far behind.
The gifts I got for Father's Day today were nice, but they weren't meaningful. The little girl laughed for the first time at the Pooh ornament in Reston, VA in 1993. The pre-teen telling me that I'm the best dad in the whole world, though I doubted it at the time. The sweet, smart, wonderful girl who hugs me and kisses me and tells me that she loves me before she goes to bed at night. The one who still screeches like a five-year-old when I tickle her.
The little boy whose first diaper change at home came just a little too late to avoid dirty sheets. The one who climbed the boxes in the living room before he was one when we'd moved to Florida in 1998. The little kid who took about a year to run the bases at Devil Rays fan fest. The one who told me at Cub Scout day camp that the B on my Red Sox cap stood for BOO!
I remember the morning both my kids were born. Laura was gestational diabetic, so we had induced labor. I remember seeing Jane McDonald in her minivan as we drove down the Dulles Toll Road the morning of June 21, 1993. And I remember dropping Jenny off at her friend's house before dawn the morning of October 10, 1997.
I remember cutting Jenny's umbilical cord and having Dan's footprint stamped on my arm. I remember Jenny being angry that she got a little brother instead of a sister...until she went to the hospital and held him.
These things and a million more memories are worth far more than the money we'd have if we didn't have any kids. They are the best Father's Day present ever.
The Peace that Transcends all Understanding
So the darkness is hovering off in the distance, far enough away to not be enveloping, close enough to know that it's there. There's a number of things I should be. I should be better at dealing with garbage, the minor inconveniences that pile up periodically in life. I should be able to better handle demands that I can't necessarily meet for one reason or another. I should not feel as if I should have the answer to every problem that presents itself regardless of its origin or my culpability.
But part of the problem is I should. Winners find a way. Losers don't. But too often I don't find a way. Guess what? Neither do most other people. It's an often-quoted statistic that the best hitters in baseball fail 70% of the time. Thomas Edison failed thousands of times, it's said, before creating the lightbulb. Lincoln never won an election until he was elected president. God failed with billions of women before He created my wife. (Okay, that was a little gratuitous, but she might read this some time, and I'm not above a little bit of brown-nosing.)
Phillipians 4:4-4:9 says a great deal about this:
Then, and this is an area where I am out-and-out horrible. I concentrate on the crap that's going on. How this one did that or the cat got sick and cost two grand (and hasn't brought in a stinking penny since we got her.) If I concentrate on good things--truth, honor, justice, purity, loveliness, and all that--peace is mine.
It seems so easy--until you try to do it.
But part of the problem is I should. Winners find a way. Losers don't. But too often I don't find a way. Guess what? Neither do most other people. It's an often-quoted statistic that the best hitters in baseball fail 70% of the time. Thomas Edison failed thousands of times, it's said, before creating the lightbulb. Lincoln never won an election until he was elected president. God failed with billions of women before He created my wife. (Okay, that was a little gratuitous, but she might read this some time, and I'm not above a little bit of brown-nosing.)
Phillipians 4:4-4:9 says a great deal about this:
Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all. The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you. (NAB)Look at the progression. I am to rejoice, a command so nice, Paul said it twice. My kindness should be known to all, for the Lord is near. I'm not in charge of making all good things happen and preventing all bad, to assume such a responsibility is foolish. If, by prayer, I make my requests known to God, petitioning Him, then--if I do what I am able to do--that is enough. Knowing limitations and trusting in God to work through those limitations is the key to peace.
Then, and this is an area where I am out-and-out horrible. I concentrate on the crap that's going on. How this one did that or the cat got sick and cost two grand (and hasn't brought in a stinking penny since we got her.) If I concentrate on good things--truth, honor, justice, purity, loveliness, and all that--peace is mine.
It seems so easy--until you try to do it.
Friday, June 16, 2006
A Trite Little Message
There was a Friday--it was May 15, 1992. I'd planned to work half a day, but that didn't happen. You see, we had guests coming from out of town, starting at noon that day. I picked up my friends Dan and Jenn and we had a pleasant lunch at Ruby Tuesday in Fair Oaks Mall. That night, we had a very nice dinner at a place called Clyde's in Tyson's Corner.
It was a rare weekend in which I could put aside all the problems of the world and enjoy time with family and friends. And it came off without a hitch. Well, except for actually getting hitched, which I did the next day, May 16, 1992.
But really the next day was a blur. One of the enduring memories of the weekend was of that morning, of the feeling of freedom and anticipation, the feeling of being completely unburdened by the cares of the day.
I'll probably pass someone on the way to work this morning who feels that way, someone for whom the burderns of everyday life had been cut free for a brief time. And I'll probably pass someone on the way to the worst day of their lives.
I've been both of those people. And probably will be again.
All of which is a convoluted way of saying that, no matter what it is, this, too, shall pass. Treasure the blessings and weather the storms for all of them are temporary.
It was a rare weekend in which I could put aside all the problems of the world and enjoy time with family and friends. And it came off without a hitch. Well, except for actually getting hitched, which I did the next day, May 16, 1992.
But really the next day was a blur. One of the enduring memories of the weekend was of that morning, of the feeling of freedom and anticipation, the feeling of being completely unburdened by the cares of the day.
I'll probably pass someone on the way to work this morning who feels that way, someone for whom the burderns of everyday life had been cut free for a brief time. And I'll probably pass someone on the way to the worst day of their lives.
I've been both of those people. And probably will be again.
All of which is a convoluted way of saying that, no matter what it is, this, too, shall pass. Treasure the blessings and weather the storms for all of them are temporary.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
My new favorite picture
This is me and the kids from Cub Scout day camp last week. I love this picture. I love that I am on one knee talking to them at their level. That epitomizes so much of what's important.I love that I wore a Red Sox hat that day specifically because a lot of them are Yankees fans and it created some really good razzing back and forth.
Look at them. In five years, they will be 14 teenagers. In fifteen years, they'll be young men, starting their lives. In 20 years, many of them will be fathers.
What a wonderful and important thing to be able to help them along in the process of becoming men.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Coming Down from the Mountain
I haven't gotten up and gone to work in the morning since June 2. It has been an outstanding vacation, probably one of the best. I loved what I did that last ten days, but you can't spend life on a mountaintop. The blessing of a mountaintop experience is that it happens. Unfortunately, it also ends.
I would much rather being spending the day in the sweltering heat, getting after a mess of 8-10 year-old boys about proper hydration than do what I do to get paid. It's more fulfilling, more rewarding, and, frankly, a lot more fun. There was a time when you spent the day every day with your family, out on the farm. It was hard work, but you got to see your loved ones a lot more. Farming for me is mowing the lawn and I try not to do that when I don't have to. But I think those people were blessed in a way.
I got to spend all day every day last week with my son. My wife and daughter were around, too. And that added to the mountaintop experience.
Tomorrow, I go back to the valley. The valley has advanatages, too. For one, they pay me to go there, which helps keep my son, wife, and daughter in inconsequential things, like food, clothing, and shelter. Also, I've come to truly value the people I work with, and I've missed them. One of my co-workers is also deeply involved with Cub Scouts and I can't wait to talk to her about what we did at camp last week.
But still, I can't help but be wistful about the passage of this nearly perfect week. And I can't help but thank God for the blessing of putting it in my life.
I think that last week was a taste of heaven.
I would much rather being spending the day in the sweltering heat, getting after a mess of 8-10 year-old boys about proper hydration than do what I do to get paid. It's more fulfilling, more rewarding, and, frankly, a lot more fun. There was a time when you spent the day every day with your family, out on the farm. It was hard work, but you got to see your loved ones a lot more. Farming for me is mowing the lawn and I try not to do that when I don't have to. But I think those people were blessed in a way.
I got to spend all day every day last week with my son. My wife and daughter were around, too. And that added to the mountaintop experience.
Tomorrow, I go back to the valley. The valley has advanatages, too. For one, they pay me to go there, which helps keep my son, wife, and daughter in inconsequential things, like food, clothing, and shelter. Also, I've come to truly value the people I work with, and I've missed them. One of my co-workers is also deeply involved with Cub Scouts and I can't wait to talk to her about what we did at camp last week.
But still, I can't help but be wistful about the passage of this nearly perfect week. And I can't help but thank God for the blessing of putting it in my life.
I think that last week was a taste of heaven.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
A Lovely Gift
My wife and I just got done doing Cub Scout Day Camp all week. As five-day leaders, we received a gift, which I wanted to share. It's a thing called Beatitudes for Leaders, and I think it's cool.
I'm not certain of the copyrights attached, so I'll link to it, rather than potentially violating them. I framed it and put it on the wall in front of my desk. I'm pretty good at this with the kids, now I need to do some of it with adults.
I'm not certain of the copyrights attached, so I'll link to it, rather than potentially violating them. I framed it and put it on the wall in front of my desk. I'm pretty good at this with the kids, now I need to do some of it with adults.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Use Words If Necessary
Tradition says that St. Francis said, "Go out and spread the Gospel. Use words if necessary."
That's a good goal. I'm not saying I'm good at it, but you'll win more converts with actions than with words.
That's a good goal. I'm not saying I'm good at it, but you'll win more converts with actions than with words.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Time is Short...Well, Shorter than it was.
I figure I'm going to live to be somewhere between 60 and 85. If that's the case, my life is between half and two-thirds over. Time, which seemed infinite not so long ago, now seems much less so. It's not an unconfortable tightness--not yet anyway--but for the first time in my life, I notice my own finite nature.
The clock is ticking and if I'm going to accomplish things, I need to start doing it. When I first got to that point in life, it bothered me. Just the idea of one's own mortality can be distracting. But now that the novelty of the realization has worn off, the time for screwing around is over. It's now time to figure out what's important and either do it or be it.
And that is a blessing. It's made me uncomfortable and forced changed. In the past, I'd have decided not to spend vacation on Cub Scout day camp this week. This year, I'm doing it. With the exception of two blueberry scones I've had at Barnes and Noble in the past two weeks--because I was hungry and those were the least objectionable things--I've steered clear of crap.
And I don't have time to let my own self-inflicted internal strife stop me from doing the most important things any more. I want to write, and I have, including this blog. And I want what I do to matter. I hope the sentiments offered here are useful to someone, and I know the work I'm doing with the kids is.
Mid-life, such as it is, is not a crisis; it's a wake-up call, a time to realize that you need to do the important things and get to them. And in getting to them, you can enrich your own life by enriching others'.
The clock is ticking and if I'm going to accomplish things, I need to start doing it. When I first got to that point in life, it bothered me. Just the idea of one's own mortality can be distracting. But now that the novelty of the realization has worn off, the time for screwing around is over. It's now time to figure out what's important and either do it or be it.
And that is a blessing. It's made me uncomfortable and forced changed. In the past, I'd have decided not to spend vacation on Cub Scout day camp this week. This year, I'm doing it. With the exception of two blueberry scones I've had at Barnes and Noble in the past two weeks--because I was hungry and those were the least objectionable things--I've steered clear of crap.
And I don't have time to let my own self-inflicted internal strife stop me from doing the most important things any more. I want to write, and I have, including this blog. And I want what I do to matter. I hope the sentiments offered here are useful to someone, and I know the work I'm doing with the kids is.
Mid-life, such as it is, is not a crisis; it's a wake-up call, a time to realize that you need to do the important things and get to them. And in getting to them, you can enrich your own life by enriching others'.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The End Times
There's a guy named Bob Lassiter who used to do radio in the Tampa area. I got here toward the end of his reign. By the time I listened to him, I think he had soured of the business and the direction in which he saw it headed. In December 1999, he figured he was done. He was less than two weeks from the end of his contract and no one had spoken to him about extending it. His last day on the air seemed like a huge meltdown at the time. In retrospect, it wasn't that harsh.
Bob Lassiter is dying. His kidneys are failing. And his blog is a daily play-by-play of his life as he sinks into the hole that will eventually cause his death. I don't know how or when I'm going to die. As a result, I get to think about things like our next vacation and how the Cub Scout meetings are going to fall from August until May of next year. But for the first time in my life, I can see the end line someplace on the horizon. My lifetime isn't the eternity it once was.
In sharing his thoughts and feelings as his life ebbs away, Bob Lassiter is providing a wonderful gift of show how precious life really is, and how hard death can really be. And he's showing that even when it's hard, it can be met with dignity.
Bob Lassiter is dying. His kidneys are failing. And his blog is a daily play-by-play of his life as he sinks into the hole that will eventually cause his death. I don't know how or when I'm going to die. As a result, I get to think about things like our next vacation and how the Cub Scout meetings are going to fall from August until May of next year. But for the first time in my life, I can see the end line someplace on the horizon. My lifetime isn't the eternity it once was.
In sharing his thoughts and feelings as his life ebbs away, Bob Lassiter is providing a wonderful gift of show how precious life really is, and how hard death can really be. And he's showing that even when it's hard, it can be met with dignity.
It's about Them
It's not about you.
Those are the first four words in The Purpose-Driven Life, a book with wonderful and horrible points, all made with the certainly of "The Bible says..." And like much of the material in the book, that statement is right and true, even if the methods used in supporting it are questionable. The author, Rick Warren, starts off by saying that it's not about you, it's about God.
I'd amend that statement. It's not about you, it's about them. The unsaved. The great unwashed. Pagans, sinners, whatever you want to call them. It's about them.
The Christian religion talks a lot about being saved. If you're washed in the blood of the Lamb of God (Jesus), you are saved. When you die, you're going someplace nice where you can revel in God's presence. And if you aren't saved, then you're not.
God is God, contant and unchanging. It's about Him, but He is what He is and we don't have the power to do anything about it. And if you believe in salvation and if you truly turn to God and accept His salvation, then you're set. Basically, you've made your decision and as long as you don't unmake it, you're off the gameboard, too.
That leaves everyone else. It's not about me; I'm taken care of. It's now about them. In my opinion, this is where a lot of Christians fall down. Tradition has it that Saint Francis said "Preach the Gospel at all time; if necessary, use words." Words are necessary. This blog and most communication is based on words. But words aren't the most effective way to communicate.
Actions are the most effective way to communicate.
And our actions, almost by definition, don't match our words. I know mine don't. I can be selfish and boorish and self-involved to the point of making people gag. But I can also be gentle and loving and touching. And God has given me the ability to move people to tears with my use of words. My children have opened up a pathway to both humanity and divinity that I never even imagined. In short, I'm human. I screw up just like you do. And I excel, too.
So my words will ring hollow. There are things about me that I will never tell you because I'm not proud of them. I fall short of what my words profess. But that's okay, because the ideas behind the words represent goals and ideals, without which, nothing progresses. And I'm trying to live up to those words.
So it's with my actions that I need to do my most effective speaking. It's with a hug to my children when I get after them too much for whatever they've done or haven't done. It's with the all-too-frequent, but heartfelt "I'm sorry" to my wife after go get angry about something stupid that I won't remember in three days.
Jesus has made a tremendous difference in my life. It's taken a long time (more than 13 years since I got serious about it), but I'm starting to become the gentle, patient person that I want to be. And the key to what I want to be is how I can touch others. Increasingly, after a maddening parade of missteps, that's starting to happen.
It's my job to make the effort; it's God's job to produce the fruit.
Those are the first four words in The Purpose-Driven Life, a book with wonderful and horrible points, all made with the certainly of "The Bible says..." And like much of the material in the book, that statement is right and true, even if the methods used in supporting it are questionable. The author, Rick Warren, starts off by saying that it's not about you, it's about God.
I'd amend that statement. It's not about you, it's about them. The unsaved. The great unwashed. Pagans, sinners, whatever you want to call them. It's about them.
The Christian religion talks a lot about being saved. If you're washed in the blood of the Lamb of God (Jesus), you are saved. When you die, you're going someplace nice where you can revel in God's presence. And if you aren't saved, then you're not.
God is God, contant and unchanging. It's about Him, but He is what He is and we don't have the power to do anything about it. And if you believe in salvation and if you truly turn to God and accept His salvation, then you're set. Basically, you've made your decision and as long as you don't unmake it, you're off the gameboard, too.
That leaves everyone else. It's not about me; I'm taken care of. It's now about them. In my opinion, this is where a lot of Christians fall down. Tradition has it that Saint Francis said "Preach the Gospel at all time; if necessary, use words." Words are necessary. This blog and most communication is based on words. But words aren't the most effective way to communicate.
Actions are the most effective way to communicate.
And our actions, almost by definition, don't match our words. I know mine don't. I can be selfish and boorish and self-involved to the point of making people gag. But I can also be gentle and loving and touching. And God has given me the ability to move people to tears with my use of words. My children have opened up a pathway to both humanity and divinity that I never even imagined. In short, I'm human. I screw up just like you do. And I excel, too.
So my words will ring hollow. There are things about me that I will never tell you because I'm not proud of them. I fall short of what my words profess. But that's okay, because the ideas behind the words represent goals and ideals, without which, nothing progresses. And I'm trying to live up to those words.
So it's with my actions that I need to do my most effective speaking. It's with a hug to my children when I get after them too much for whatever they've done or haven't done. It's with the all-too-frequent, but heartfelt "I'm sorry" to my wife after go get angry about something stupid that I won't remember in three days.
Jesus has made a tremendous difference in my life. It's taken a long time (more than 13 years since I got serious about it), but I'm starting to become the gentle, patient person that I want to be. And the key to what I want to be is how I can touch others. Increasingly, after a maddening parade of missteps, that's starting to happen.
It's my job to make the effort; it's God's job to produce the fruit.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
To be or not to be; to do or not to do
I'm a good Christian. And that means that I should do something for Jesus. In fact, I should constantly be doing something for Jesus. After all, time is short and there's lots to do. So I'd better get doing, because there's a lot of work to be done.
The parable of the talents would seem to give credence to that approach. After all, the guy who had five talents worked really hard and got another five. And God was happy with him. And the guy who had three talents worked really hard and got another three. And God was happy with him. But the guy who had one went off and buried his talent. And God was angry with him. So the moral of the story is that God expects you to produce. You need to produce fruit, the Bible says. And we'll be judged on whether we produce fruit. So if we're trees producing fruit, we'd better get onto producing lest we wind up kindling in the fires of Gehenna, right?
Actually, I don't think so.
The more I think about it, the more I think that God isn't as concerned with what we do as he is concerned with what we are. I think we, particularly as Americans, have been socialized that we're expected to produce. I mean, when you're in the job, you're there to produce. And we're rewarded based on how we produce. So we'd better get producing or we're going to do poorly on our performance appraisals.
Except I don't think God is our boss. I think God is our father. For my kids, I care what they do. If I see clothes on the bathroom floor, I get irritated. After all, they have two legs and two arms and two eyes, so they should see the clothes on the floor and use their arms to pick them up and use their legs to put them in the hamper.
But more than that, I care what they are. I get after them about the clothes because I want them to understand that they have to pull their weight. Because the lesson of picking up their own clothes has a lot of parallels in adult life. Because it will help shape what they are.
There's a certain passiveness in being a good Christian. Mother Theresa called herself an instrument in the hands of the Lord. An instrument by itself is entirely passive. It does what its user intends. Now, Mother Theresa didn't live a passive life, but she did act passively in the face of God, allowing herself to be used as He saw fit.
A better example is an apple tree. An apple tree doesn't strain to produce fruit. It produces fruit by virtue of the fact that it's an apple tree. Just the same, if we concentrate on being, the doing will come on its own.
So what does it mean to concentrate on being? It means that you need to figure out what you are and then try to be that. Figure out what you stand for, then live according to that. For me--and I would presume to say, for all Christians--what we want to be is His. And if we concentrate on being His, then when it's time to do and when it's time to make decisions, we'll know what to do.
The secret is that we're not here to try to produce fruit, we're here to be His. And if we can be what we're supposed to be, the fruit will be a natural outgrowth of what we are.
The parable of the talents would seem to give credence to that approach. After all, the guy who had five talents worked really hard and got another five. And God was happy with him. And the guy who had three talents worked really hard and got another three. And God was happy with him. But the guy who had one went off and buried his talent. And God was angry with him. So the moral of the story is that God expects you to produce. You need to produce fruit, the Bible says. And we'll be judged on whether we produce fruit. So if we're trees producing fruit, we'd better get onto producing lest we wind up kindling in the fires of Gehenna, right?
Actually, I don't think so.
The more I think about it, the more I think that God isn't as concerned with what we do as he is concerned with what we are. I think we, particularly as Americans, have been socialized that we're expected to produce. I mean, when you're in the job, you're there to produce. And we're rewarded based on how we produce. So we'd better get producing or we're going to do poorly on our performance appraisals.
Except I don't think God is our boss. I think God is our father. For my kids, I care what they do. If I see clothes on the bathroom floor, I get irritated. After all, they have two legs and two arms and two eyes, so they should see the clothes on the floor and use their arms to pick them up and use their legs to put them in the hamper.
But more than that, I care what they are. I get after them about the clothes because I want them to understand that they have to pull their weight. Because the lesson of picking up their own clothes has a lot of parallels in adult life. Because it will help shape what they are.
There's a certain passiveness in being a good Christian. Mother Theresa called herself an instrument in the hands of the Lord. An instrument by itself is entirely passive. It does what its user intends. Now, Mother Theresa didn't live a passive life, but she did act passively in the face of God, allowing herself to be used as He saw fit.
A better example is an apple tree. An apple tree doesn't strain to produce fruit. It produces fruit by virtue of the fact that it's an apple tree. Just the same, if we concentrate on being, the doing will come on its own.
So what does it mean to concentrate on being? It means that you need to figure out what you are and then try to be that. Figure out what you stand for, then live according to that. For me--and I would presume to say, for all Christians--what we want to be is His. And if we concentrate on being His, then when it's time to do and when it's time to make decisions, we'll know what to do.
The secret is that we're not here to try to produce fruit, we're here to be His. And if we can be what we're supposed to be, the fruit will be a natural outgrowth of what we are.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Unhappiness isn't Necessarily Godly
Today's entry in The Purpose-Driven Life talks about the fact that life is a temporary assignment. We are here for a short time, relative to the eternity that we will spend with God and we should set our eyes on the eternal things and not be concerned with the things of this world. In fact, because our real citizenship is in heaven, we are supposed to remain somewhat unhappy and unfulfilled here.
I understand what Rick Warren is saying, but I have some problems with it, as well. This kind of thinking has been used to justify all kinds of horrible things. Yes, you're a slave in this world, but it's okay. You'll be with God in the next, so to out and harvest my stuff, you worthless serf!
In fairness, Rick Warren isn't justifying slavery, but I can cherry pick scripture just as easy has Warren does. Paul said in Philipians that he had learned to be content in any situation. Psalm 118 says that this is the day the Lord has made and that we should rejoice and be glad in it. That's not the same as saying that we're supposed to be happy and unfulfilled. One of the best things that you can wish someone is peace, an internal peace that transcends all understanding.
Now, for this guy to come and cherry pick Scripture and say that we're supposed to be at least somewhat unhappy is very harmful. If nothing else, it allows people whose unhappiness is self-inflicted a rationalization that's not easily countered. I'm unhappy because God wants me to be, because I'm getting ready for heaven.
Bunk. You're unhappy because of your own reactions. Or because you're in a situation that makes you unhappy and you've chosen not remedy that situation. Sometimes good reasons exist for that, but often it's a result of fear, complacency, or just plain laziness, none of which is noble. There's a huge difference between saying "Life is hard and you need to accept that fact" and saying "Life is hard and you're supposed to be at least a little unhappy or you aren't focusing on God wants."
The key to life isn't happiness. And the key to happiness isn't a single-minded pursuit of it. The key to both is to figure out what you stand for, and then standing for it.
I understand what Rick Warren is saying, but I have some problems with it, as well. This kind of thinking has been used to justify all kinds of horrible things. Yes, you're a slave in this world, but it's okay. You'll be with God in the next, so to out and harvest my stuff, you worthless serf!
In fairness, Rick Warren isn't justifying slavery, but I can cherry pick scripture just as easy has Warren does. Paul said in Philipians that he had learned to be content in any situation. Psalm 118 says that this is the day the Lord has made and that we should rejoice and be glad in it. That's not the same as saying that we're supposed to be happy and unfulfilled. One of the best things that you can wish someone is peace, an internal peace that transcends all understanding.
Now, for this guy to come and cherry pick Scripture and say that we're supposed to be at least somewhat unhappy is very harmful. If nothing else, it allows people whose unhappiness is self-inflicted a rationalization that's not easily countered. I'm unhappy because God wants me to be, because I'm getting ready for heaven.
Bunk. You're unhappy because of your own reactions. Or because you're in a situation that makes you unhappy and you've chosen not remedy that situation. Sometimes good reasons exist for that, but often it's a result of fear, complacency, or just plain laziness, none of which is noble. There's a huge difference between saying "Life is hard and you need to accept that fact" and saying "Life is hard and you're supposed to be at least a little unhappy or you aren't focusing on God wants."
The key to life isn't happiness. And the key to happiness isn't a single-minded pursuit of it. The key to both is to figure out what you stand for, and then standing for it.
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