Sentiment me!

I know someone in my life that when he gets sentimental, has to have everyone stop and savor the significance of the situation. It is uncomfortable, to put it mildly.

I am all for being in the moment and being moved by life. What I am not into is having someone else demand that I stop and be mindful of the moment, especially when I am not feeling the same thing.

That is evidence of enmeshment, poor boundaries between people. If a person is moved by a moment, he or she should be moved. Demanding that I be moved by the moment, even when I have no such feelings is rude. If I act as if I am moved by the moment when I am not, then I am a liar!

I put this person in the same category as the one who believes it is their job to make sure all are obeying the speed limit. If I obey the speed limit, it is by my own choice. I don't appreciate someone who is purposely driving slower to force compliance. It's not their job, and I resent the one who takes it on as their job. The police are out there and they have been given the task of vehicle safety.

We should be overwhelmed by wonder, but I will not be coerced into feeling wonder. It's dishonest.

Sorrow overwhelming

I read about the murder of a little girl, age 2, who was beaten to death. There were descriptions of the guardians hurling her into a wall across the room and beating her with belts and sticks. I feel teary-eyed, sick and shaky even writing this.

There was a program on TV that had the last letters sent home by soldiers from war, read by family members. I cried along with the images of people who were reading and crying as well.

My friend is dying. She will leave behind her husband who adores her and children who need her around.

Nineteen people are killed in an explosion in Sri Lanka. Thousands killed in a cyclone in Bangladesh. Death and pain enfold us.

I have been listening to "A world lit by fire" a history of the "dark ages". The murders, the horrifying torture of "heretics" the debauchery, the love of watching people die.

It's too much! What I have documented doesn't even dent the amazing amount of pain around me.

It's amazing that we are not drowned in sorrow and tears! It's no wonder we insulates ourselves. We very well may never recover!

STOP PUSHING ME

At the mall yesterday I was startled to attention by someone shouting "STOP PUSHING ME!" A girl, about 10 years old ran by me and pushed a boy who appeared to be 14 years old. A woman who looked like their mother muttered menacingly under her breath "Both of you, stop it!" They disappeared into the store.

We want justice! We want to know we are heard when we complain. Families are a great place to learn that. That scenario has been repeated for years in families all over the world. We are attempting to establish control, establish an order.

When all else fails, shout louder and get the neighbors involved.

My mother the car

I really don't care for things that tell me the obvious. For example, I have never been a big fan of the Bible with the "words of our Lord in red". I think the gospels are written clear enough that I can figure out who is talking.

I have a console in my car that tells me the temperature. I don't then need for the car to tell me if ice is going to be present. I think I can figure it out.

Getting to know you

I interacted with a neighbor that I don't know well. Our conversation consisted of housekeeping details about her daughter staying over and when she needed to be taken home. The rest of our conversation was telling stories. One linked off the other, and gave us truths about each other that could only be discovered by how we responded to situations.

I was struck with the idea that Jesus when he was on earth, told stories. They were confusing at times and he left it up to us to decide their meaning.

Stories communicate far more than we could in a systematic discourse. I learned a lot from the neighbor about her values and her responses. And it was far more interesting than having her recited what she thought and believed.

Longing for the past

My daughter in anticipation of Christmas has been pouring over the Target ad in the Sunday paper. From the back seat came the statement "maybe sometime we could make real popcorn." She showed my wife a picture of a popcorn kettle advertised in the paper. She lamented the idea that all she knows has been microwave popcorn. She expressed longing for "the old days". We had a greasy popcorn kettle. It was used for nothing else but making popcorn and it seemed to grow it's own oily skin.

As technology presses ahead there are a lot of things that are discarded along the roadside. And sometimes the memory of them is far better than the item itself

BUTRULE alert

I am always looking to people to illustrate BUTRULE! What is BUTRULE you may ask? BUTRULE is where you ignore everything said on the front side of the word "but" in a sentence. For example, when someone says "I don't mean to intrude, but..." use the BUTRULE, which is ignore every word said before the word "but". Of course you meant to intrude, otherwise you wouldn't have.

I found a great example to apply BUTRULE to. I won't even tell you how I ended up viewing this video clip. It was a preacher who was describing how he spent 23 minutes in hell. He apparently lived to tell about it and he explained it in all its gory detail. I actually lost interest at a certain point and clicked out of it. Sometimes a short attention span is a very good thing.

However, before I left this riveting clip, the preacher made a statement that I could apply BUTRULE to. Here it is. I'll let you, my astute reader apply the rule and figure it out for yourselves. These are the actual words he spoke. He had just read a couple of Bible verses supporting some of the images he saw in Hell.

"I would like to share more scripture with you, because that's what's really important, but we don't have enough time...so anyway I was in a cell with these 13 foot tall creatures standing over me..."

Nuff said.

God threw a little something together!

This morning I was meditating in the living room. I was looking at the dining room window and the slats had an orange tint to them. I got up and looked out the back windows. What I saw took my breath away. Here was an amazing blend of colors that were stunning. I attempted to capture it in pictures, but there is no way I could capture the beauty! JUST NO WAY! Five minutes later it was gone. The sky was back to its morning hue.

What I am realizing about God is that he does things that appear so random. He throws together this breathtaking scene for anyone who is awake and aware, and then he takes it down, and it's as if it never existed. But it did exist for a second, and I got the pleasure of seeing it before it was taken down.

God is interested in beauty. He sees value in a show to catch our attention. But only if we are looking for it and if you blink you may miss it.

What children represent

I watched the movie "Children of men". In the movie no one has been able to give birth to a baby in years. One woman is able to and she is trying to get her baby to safety. They have to pass through a war zone with the military fighting a rebel faction. Bullets are flying everywhere.

And then the baby starts crying. A baby's cry hadn't been heard in 18 years. And the baby's crying silences the gun as people everywhere in the war zone stare at the infant. Why? Because a child is one of the most powerful symbols of hope that we have. Part of the Jesus story was coming as a baby and is called the hope of the nations.

That is why it is so hard to see a child die. It is not just because they were innocent and never had the ability to live. When a child dies it is as if a piece of hope dies as well.

Children have such power. And the power of a child wields is hope.

A saint I could hang with

Why aren't more saints this approachable. I could sit and talk to St. Al.

I have not read it yet, but what I have heard about the book of Mother Teresa's prayers was that that she struggled with feeling approved of. I can relate to that. While I don't know her struggles as my own, I appreciate her struggle. It validates my own.

Spirituality is not about being above the fray. It is about living in the fray and being real in the middle of it.

It's all perception

Snow fell today on my commute. I watched the silent floating white flakes with a growing sense of weariness. My daughter was energized. I know my boys are as well.

We know things are coming. Then why are we surprised? If life is a mystery then why are we taken aback when changes occur? But we are. And how we perceive the impact of the event creates our unique reaction.

Who does this sound like?

I made a startling connection this morning. I realized that the practice of the religion of my youth was a lot like a pyramid scheme business. There are many companies that work this way, and they strongly encourage a lifestyle shift if you want to be successful with them. This type of business includes cleaning products, personal hygiene and cosmetics, and even some forms of insurance.

The way these businesses work is that you sign on as a distributor. It reduces the amount you pay for product, so there is some motivation to sign. You then start consuming the product in your daily life. You swap products you would have purchased in the store with the ones from your company.

At the same time you attend meetings where you hear success stories and motivational speeches that fire you up to go into the world and make distributors. You start associating with people who like you are distributors and your life becomes increasingly consumed with the company and the products. You change your friends to be those who are part of the company as well.

When you speak to those who are not in the company, it seems that the only real value in the time spent with them is whether you are able to sign them up as a distributor who will work under you.

As your distributors purchase products they increase your profits. The higher up you go in the company, as reflected by sales, the more you are able to make. The pinnacle of success in these companies is becoming the motivating icon that everyone aspires to be.

Maybe a SLIGHT loss of perspective.

I'm sure this doesn't sound at all like the practices of some forms of modern American fundamentalist evangelicalism.

Market forces

(Thank you Christa (Of Magic and Sensibility) for your inspiration on this blog.)
The other day I was shopping for a bible for my wife. It has been a long time since I had been in a "christian" bookstore. I was amazed (and not in a good way) of all the different ways the bible was marketed. And that was just the bibles. I didn't even look at the music or the books! I originally went to a "regular" bookstore to find one, but the choices were few.

One bible I did come across was the "Pray for the cure" bible. Marketing comes in many shapes and sizes. There was the "student" bible, the "princess" bible, the "rad dude" bible...Sorry, I made that one up.

Here are some bible marketing strategies that I came up with.

I propose the "Homeless Bible". It could be covered in plastic and cardboard, with shopping cart wire mesh to surround it.

How about "AIDS Bible". It could have silhouettes of dirty needles and condoms.

I could go on. I won't. I'm not sure there is an economic base that would support production of these bibles, or others like them. And then we would have to ask, in those churches where the size of your bible is a measure of your spirituality, how many would be proud or even willing to carry one of those bibles into the church service.

Understanding

Understanding is hard. A woman recently spoke powerfully of understanding her mother's drug addiction when she herself became addicted. She had a much greater level of empathy.

I spoke with another person who while struggling himself with drugs, called his dad a "drunk". What is the difference?

The difference to me is that one was able to admit her failings while the other was not. When we accept our brokeness we can acknowledge others brokeness as well. We have nothing to prove. When we remain guarded, and are unwilling to admit our failings, we blast others with judgements to assure ourselves that we are nothing like the other person.

Henri Nouwen called himself a "broken healer", and talked about how much easier it was to help others when we are able to admit to ourselves and the world that we need help too.

Bicycle

The car next to me had a bumper sticker on her Chrysler Intrepid. It read "Boycott big oil. Really! Then what are you still doing on the road? Put it on your bicycle!

Benefits of on-line teaching

I was talking to someone the other day about teaching. He talked about wanting to become an on-line teacher because you could get to the purity of their ideas without being distracted by particular students, "like blacks, for example."

I sat there not knowing what to say. I don't agree at all with the person's point of view, and if I get into an argument with them will I change his mind. I don't see that happening. So I didn't say anything and then left soon after that.

I don't know if the person knew I was uncomfortable, or just continued his life without a thought.

As I layer this experience into a larger idea about society, I don't know if I furthered the cause of racial harmony. I suspect that I did not. I just don't know that starting an argument would have been any better.

But I have to say, it haunts me.

Born again...day 1

One thing that I realized and came to a head yesterday is how much emotional energy runs through me. Some of it is good, and some of it drags me down. It makes me the passionate person I am. It also blocks my creativity and relational aspects of my life.

One thing I have realized is that I want to let some of this negative emotional junk go. Yesterday felt so freeing as I made my declaration.

Today was a test for me, and I collapsed. I didn't totally lose it, but there was enough negative energy to deflate high flying hopes.

However, that will not be the end of the story for me. I have decided to give my negative and self destructive emotions over to God and let Him morph them into more positive energy. Awareness makes things easier to deal with.

Salvation isn't a one time shot. It is turning the corner and walking in a new direction. It is a journey.

I turned a corner yesterday. I realized some things. I wanted to do things differently. Right now I feel clumsy. I haven't done this to the level I am proposing before so it feels awkward now. I am tempted to be discouraged. (Discouragement is a negative emotion that increases the likelihood of giving up.

I know it will become better as I keep doing what I have realized I need to do.

All Souls Day

Today was All Soul’s Day at Church. As is the custom there, candles brought to the front of the sanctuary by those who wanted to remember someone who had died in the past year that was meaningful to them. After the candle processional, the names of the dead were read with a tolling of a bell.

A name was read, the bell tolled. Another name was read, another tolling of the bell.

I started thinking of those people and the meaning of their lives, their influence, the loss felt by others. I thought as well of the names who could be there next year and I found myself misty-eyed.

Another name, another tolling of the bell.

Each name read was piercing, the bell started sounding like a gong. As the ritual went on, it became painful to hear, and the anticipation of the sound was jarring. These people meant something in the world. They mattered to someone. They left others void of their presence.

Another name, another tolling of the bell.

Rich Mullins wrote: It is the living that mourn at a funeral-not the dead. We mourn because the lives of the dead have made ours more lively, and since we are (or have been) so knit together, the loss or another's strand will eventually cause our own unraveling. Fellowship is the mingling of threads that make up a fabric, and only in a fabric do we have some kind of meaningfulness.

Another name, another tolling of the bell. Is there a way to stop it?

What's in a name?

Near where we live there is a storage facility called "Carefree". I guess with all the stuff you have you can keep it there and feel more carefree knowing it was safe. And why do we need to accumulate? Aren't a lot of things that we have, stuff that we couldn't live without, and now can't let go of, waiting for the proverbial "someday" when it will be useful once again?

Years ago I worked for an auction company. We went through peoples' estates and decided what people would be willing to bid on. Many items went in the trash bin. Many items. We have stuff, we need more stuff, we can't get rid of stuff, and then we pay to have the stuff disposed of.

One person who we managed their estate, all he had was a bed and a TV. That was it. Someone remarked that it was sad. I thought that this person used up almost all his possesions and these two items were all that were left.

Some people, craving money, (and craving stuff) have pierced themselves with many sorrows.

Carefree? I'm not sure it is. It seems kinda like calling a dounut shop "A Thinner You!"

Sharing our world

On my walk today I saw many geese floating in the river I was walking by. They were beautiful. I stopped to admire them. They are taking a break from the flight south.

Make sure that when you are looking up at the birds flying by, don't take a step. If you are walking, look down so you can miss all those deposits on the grass. That is the cost of sharing the world with geese.

Born again

Today is a big day for me. I am being born again. Stay tuned for details.

I know this sounds like I'm being mysterious. Salvation is a mystery. I know it sounds like I am not explaining, but how can I tell you what I'm not sure I understand yet.

So...stay tuned.

Singing from the inner voice

I went to a David Wilcox concert. It was a truly magical evening. The songs he sang resonated so powerfully within me. I sat there spellbound. He seemed to walk through the world as a funnel, taking in every experience, putting it through an internal interpretation mechanism and then release it on the other side to fly away and gain a life of its own. His inner voice appeared to be the one singing.

My thinking has changed over the years, and I noticed it most dramtically at the concert. In the past, the musical performance side of me would have been envious of his calling, that it happened to him and not to me. I could be the one on stage singing the songs and evoking the feelings of others.

At this concert I felt envious of his freedom of expression, his ability to freely receive and freely give.

Looking at my life, there are so many areas that I find myself blocking. Hurt, anger, frustration, all block creative expression. I feed on things that do not advance me, but keep me stuck.

I think where I am heading on my journey is toward that freedom, to let the world wash over me and not fight it, but channel it and give creative voice to what is good, on the other side.

I'm not there yet. If I were, this wouldn't be a journey. But I think I have another section of the treasure map.

Who are we?

Reading the book King Leopold's Ghost, I am struck by the arrogance of our species. Our pride and greed takes over our lives and we have the capability to brutalize and destroy others for the sake of our own self interests.

The indigenous people in the Congo were referred to as "black devils" or "black demons", and yet the atrocities commited by caucasians was breathtakingly brutal. That the europeans were willing to go to countries that had less technology than they did and take it over is amazing. It really makes me question who we are as a species.

Primping to conform

I was at the gas station. A woman was in the car next to me curling her eyelashes. It made me realize once again that we spend a lot of time making sure we conform to the society around us.

No need looking when you can hear

I was walking around the development. A motorcyclist passed on the road next to the path. He then opened it up and produced a loud racket that actually hurt my ears.

I thought about what would happen to me if I drove my car with no muffler. I would get a ticket...In fact I HAVE gotten a ticket. But motorcyclist are allowed to shatter the peace around them. I don't think it is fair.

While I am on "fair", why do I OR a passenger get a ticket if we don't have a seatbelt on, but motorcyclists aren't even breaking the law when they ride around bareheaded?

All I can say is that the motorcycle lobby must have be pretty powerful!