A Sobering Awareness

Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.
1 John 2:6

My days in junior high were the most unhappy in my whole life.

It was a time of great malaise for me, this I was certain of -and I was very right about that. I blamed my circumstances, my school, my family, and some of the things I am now the most thankful for. Occasionally I suspected my own attitude had something to do with it, but I sent the suspicion away -calling myself the victim.

We studied the Bible in school. I considered myself to be a Christian, but I questioned whether or not I was actually living in the way God had commanded me to live.

The Bible readings were required, and not a matter of personal choice. It would have been easy to let the passages go in one ear and out the other, but I was full of questions. I didn't really want to know what happened to Noah's ark, or who the Nephilum were (although these were the questions I asked out loud).

The real questions I had about the Bible were really questions I had about myself.

With every command I read from God, I wondered to myself, 'Is this something I am doing? If I stood before God, if my appearances were as nothing as they are before Him, would He say, 'Well done, good and faithful servant'?'

One day the teacher introduced three verses we would be memorizing from 1 John. I had never seen these verses before. I remember the exact way that he wrote them on the green chalk board thirteen years ago:

Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world - the cravings of sinful, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does - comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever.
1 John 2:15-17

I wondered how I could memorize a verse which seemed impossible to even read. Do not love anything in the world?

Really?

There were a LOT of things in the world I loved.

I loved cartoons. I loved the cheap pizza my mom would buy for my sister and I at Costco. I loved going to the movies. I loved pop culture. More than all of it, I loved video games.

And could it be that here in this very place, John was telling in the full authority of the Bible not to love these things? If I did love them, would the love of the Father not be in me?

It sounded like I would go to hell, except that it was worded in the present tense. 'The love of the Father is not in him.'

I didn't care that the Bible did not forbid these things. I could stop doing them. I could stop watching my favorite shows. I could stop eating cheap pizza. I could (maybe) stop playing video games. But how could I stop LOVING them?

The second verse in the passage -the one about the cravings and the lust of the flesh and boasting about what a person has and does- that sounded just like me, just like my style.

It was like I was singled out and laid bare.

After digesting this verse for some time, I gave this messy region of my heart over to God (at about the time I was baptized).

These days I don't struggle with loving video games. There are moments where I get to do fun things and sometimes I struggle with loving those moments.

Then I teeter-totter about it and say to myself, 'Well, I don't love those things that much.'

And then I think back and I remember the chalk board on that day. I remember the verse that God commissioned John to write to me ... to give me a warning.

I remember how serious that moment was. How terrified I was at the choice I had to make and how seriously God takes my actions.

Father, keep my heart from the idolatry of the world. Spare me from loving the things here. Guide me into the fullness of your ways. As you prepare a place for me, prepare also that place for you in me.

Amen.

The Wise And The Simple

When the child chatters away, his chatter is perhaps simple enough, and when the wise person says exactly the same thing, it has perhaps become the most ingenious of things.

This is how the wise person relates himself to simplicity. When he enthusastically venerates it as the highest, it honors him in turn, because it is as if, in him, the simple became something else, even though it in fact remains the same.

The more the wise person considers simplicity, then, ... the more difficult it becomes for him.

Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript

My wife and I recently watched a film about the life of a London art mueseum curator. He is so loathed by his coworkers for his simple, primitive ways that they will do anything to get rid of him.

A speaking invitation from southern California arrives requesting an art expert to give a speech. The occasion is the reception of a famous portrait from overseas. The museum staff sends the simple curator, because they consider him an annoyance.

The painting depicts whistler's mother. She sits in her colonial American garb looking to the left of the frame while casually rocking.

When the curator -who is a very simple man- stands up to give to give the speech everyone expects to hear him talk about the ideology behind the work or the technique of the artist.

The curator begins:

'My job is to go around ... and look ... at the paintings.'

Everyone is amazed. To just go around and look at the paintings? How primitive and yet how profound.

He continues in a similar way. Toward the end he says,

'This artist decided to paint a picture of his mother. Even though she was an old homely woman he still decided to paint her picture ... and I think that is marvelous.'


If a child had stood up and spoken in such a way, he would probably have been disregarded.

A sympathetic adult might have said to such a child, 'Your words were all very nice, but let us hear what wonderful things you'll have to share after you've studied art history.'

But when the simple man came and spoke simply under the banner of wisdom, everyone was amazed.

Jesus told his disciples that no one would enter life unless they made themselves to be like little children.

Consider a trained theologian who addresses other theologians and says, 'Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so'. His words seem very different from the words any child might say at Sunday school, and yet couldn't they be the same words?

Cannot we all become like little children?

Fear and Trembling

As a child my mom would read me Bible stories.

She read them out of a book with large pictures. I didn't know how to read the text, so I did what I could to read the faces in the pictures.

We always read from the Old Testament, and the pictures usually depicted weeping of some kind. The shepherd boy, David, at least seemed at peace playing his harp.

The story of Abraham and Isaac had a very unusual picture.


The first time I saw the picture it seemed as though there was an old man who had tied up a beautiful, young woman and was about to stab her with a knife.

The image terrified me.

I had no idea what a beautiful woman was 'supposed to' look like. The only one I had ever seen at the time (I was three or four) was probably my mom. The painting probably dated to the renaissance, which had a way of portraying men in womanly ways.

I remember thinking to myself something like, 'There's only a couple beautiful women in the world, and this old man is killing one of them! How terrible!'.

I asked my mom about the story because the image made me tremble. I thought she would have a ready explanation for what was happening -perhaps the old man was about to cut the woman loose, or he was going to fight a snake with the knife, or something.

The more I learned about the details, the more dredful the story seemed to me.

The old man, whose name was Abraham, was told by God to kill his own son, Isaac. Isaac was not a young woman Abraham had been attracted to. Isaac was the promised son Abraham had waited many, many years to receive.

...

When my wife and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary we stayed at a beautiful resort hotel -her choice. The next morning was Sunday and she asked me to pick a chapter in the Bible to read.

I turned to Genesis 22 and started reading.

The chapter starts off dramatically with God telling Abraham:

Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.

Which Isaac was God referring to? The Isaac whom Abraham loved. This was the only qualification God made in referring the sacrifice to Abraham. No further description was needed. One can almost imagine Abraham thinking to himself: 'That Isaac. I know exactly who you are referring to.'

At times God has been known to allow people to face difficulties. My wife's father, whom she loved, was killed in a terrible automobile accident. It was very sad for her and her family, although though no one had been instructed to kill her father.

Was Abraham tempted to disobey God?

The chapter opens saying that, "God tested Abraham". But I don't think Abraham was tempted in the same way we might have been tempted.

I don't think Abraham thought to himself, "Maybe I should just go to bed, forget the whole thing ever happened. It was probably just the spicey roast beef dinner anyway."

Abraham's temptation was probably more along the lines of:

'Is this the God I worship? Is this who He is? Is this what he considers good? To require me to kill my own son, who I have waited to behold for so long for?'

As unusual as the story maybe, I do not find bitterness against God to be very rare. I can think of a time -only a month ago- where I had a bitter attitude against God over breaking open the vinyl floor while pushing my new washing machine into its closet.

If my attitude was not truly bitterness against God, it was something a lot like it. On the other hand, tearing up the floor on accident is very different from intentionally drawing a knife on your own son.

Was Abraham bitter against God?

In the book of Hebrews we learn that Abraham was not only taking his son, his servants, and some supplies with him to the mountain in Moriah. He also brought something else with him.

Faith.

Like God, no one could really see Abraham's faith, except perhaps indirectly.

When Isaac asked his father, "Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?" Abraham answered in faith, "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son."


How easily one comes to tremble in the details of this story.

After I read the story with my wife on our anniversary my wife told me that she became afraid as soon as I started reading the story, and that it was very difficult for her to listen to. I told her it was exactly that way for me as well.

How sad the way many people try to escape from this fear!

In junior high I asked my teacher about the story, about how one should respond if they hear God asking them to kill someone they loved.

And my teacher, who I consider to this day to be wise in many ways, told me that this story took place before God provided the ten commandments saying not to murder.

'So we don't have to be afraid because God would not ask this of any of us.'

Or so she seemed to suggest.

In a way it is like saying that at one time God was Someone to be feared. He laid armies to waste, killed the first-borns, and even destroyed the entire earth and all the people (Noah's family excepting) in a flood, but today? Today, He always behaves in a way that society can approve and accept immediately.

I tried to find consolation in her words, but I never could. Something seemed to linger in the story that terrified me, and it seemed like I was just overlooking it.

One time while discussing the story with a local pastor, he said to me, "But it's not like Abraham killed his son. God intervened at the last second."

He could have just as easily said, 'Look we're making spaghetti tonight, but, come on, it's not like we going to get it all over our white shirts. We can keep it in these bowls the whole time.'

And I feel like so much of my life has been a continual striving to do exactly this: to draw these imaginary lines and say, "God would never allow this to happen...".

But He does allow it to happen. And in this story He commands it of Abraham.

Abraham believed that God could bring Isaac back from the dead. He did not know God was going to do that. And he certainly didn't know God was going to intervene.

To consider only the end of the story and say, 'Well, that worked out pretty good,' Is to overlook the entirety of the obedience that God approved of.

Looking back on it, I suppose my pastor and my teacher were trying to do the same thing with their explanations: they were both trying to take all the fear out of the story.

According to the account, however, it was the fear which God commended Abraham for:

Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.

The strange thing about this story -and the many times I tried to grasp it- is that I probably understood it better when I was a child. Before I tried to explain the scary things away.

Faith can be scary, and because of it most refuse to have it. If you believe something good will happen to you, you can become very disappointed.

Faith says, 'I can accept disappointment. Yes, I can have it all taken from me, but I believe I know the One in charge, and I dare say that He has good things in store for me.'

Boasting In My Weakness

Matthew Anderson, a friend over at Mere Orthodoxy invited me to post 8 random stories about myself.

1) When I was three years old my father pulled me aside and said, "Son, I love you." After a moment I said, "I love you too, father." And he said, "Do you really?". I remember thinking to myself, "What is love? Is it a feeling? I don't think it is. Is it a giving? But I have nothing to give? Is it merely a word? I believe it is more than that." Eventually I told my father I did love him, but I feared I had lied because I couldn't explain to myself what love was, so how could I love?

2) In highschool I spent a long time in the mornings reading the Bible. First I would notice the Bible on my nightstand. Then I was head off to do some other task. Then I would come back to the edge of my bed and sit. Then I would stand up. Then I would sit back down again. Much, much later, I began to read.

3) As a little boy I used to wonder about how many people there were on the earth. At least a hundred -which was more than I could imagine. "And how strange," I thought, "That I am the only one I have control over." After thinking about this I grew very afraid, and I didn't understand why.

4) During my early days in college I began studying the works of those who used philosophical and scientific evidence to defend the Bible. It was at this time I went to the hospital for an appendectomy. My roommate was a Mormon. I thought I had all the answers. The more certain of this I became, the more foolish my own words sounded to me. Eventually the mormon told me, "Look, I'm not just going to put my hands over my eyes and ears and shout until you go away. The thing is I live by faith." To this day I believe he was in a sense full of lies, but at the time I thought to myself, "Simple faith? How wonderful!". When I returned to college I tried to forget the whole incident.

5) One time as a young child I found a penny on the carpet. I was delighted and hid it in my hands. My father easily saw me do this and asked me what I had. I showed him reluctantly. He told me to give it back, but I refused. He told me again. Although the penny seemed like a lot of money to me at the time, I had this odd sensation that it was actually worth almost nothing and that he would give it back to me if I just handed it over to him. And the more I considered this, the tighter I held the penny. "What kind of man demands to have money handed over to him, so he can give it back?" I was also (painfully) aware of how unhappy I was in my stiffness.

6) In junior high I decided to get baptised. Afterword I was faced with two voices. The first voice said over and over again, "It was a nice ceremony. The people in your community all expect it of you and now it is over with." The second voice said, "This is your chance -maybe your only chance- to change your ways and become a different person. You have set off on a total life commitment, and that is where you should continue." How slow I was to accept the latter voice!

7) While studying philosophy at Keble College in Oxford I cherished the complexity of my studies and how I was (slowly) mastering them. At the same time I had this sinking feeling that all my efforts were to no avail -that my studies promised me everything, but instead gave me nothing. I began to let go of my strenuous efforts at understanding. I feared I had failed at school and also at life. It was then that I began to spend time with a young girl about my age. She was very intelligent, but did not consider her learning something to be grasped. And with what joy she lived! "Surely, this woman has found the true Jesus," I thought. A year and a half later I married her.

8) In highschool we had a large auditorium where we met three times a week for morning assembly. Someone would recite a speach or perform a dance. Then the faculty would get up, face the audience, and yell loudly their announcements. Some mornings it seemed like they were in competition with each other to see who could shout the loudest to get the most attention. I remember often sensing that God was trying to get my attention, but His voice was so quiet!

The Mockingbird's Song

The Mockingbird's Song
by The Burning Bush

Long ago there lived a young mockingbird named Eschel. Eschel was too young to find a nest of his own, so he lived with his mother.

One day as he was searching the forest for seed, he came across some other young mockingbirds.

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Why don't you come with us?
Took Took Took
We will repeat the calls of the blue jay
Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Enough laughs for all.

Eschel did not understand. These birds spoke in an ever-changing song, but his mother never sang. And Eschel did not understand why they wished to repeat the calls of the blue jay.

Pooka, Pooka, Pooka,
You are a mockingbird, yes?
Dople, Dople, Dople
This is what we do.
Dorund, Dorund, Dorun,
This is why all birds envy us.
Teek Teek Teek
But you are still too young.

"No, no," Said Eschel. "Let me first get permission." And he flew back to his nest.

"Mother," Said Eschel. "Allow me to fly with some friends."

"Where will you fly?"

"To the blue jay. We wish to satire the blue jay." Said Eschel.

"Ah ..." Said, the mother. "How sad that my own son wishes to be like all the rest of the mocking birds ... Like the whole lot of our sadspecies."

"Mother, is this not our boast in life? That no bird can mock like a mockingbird?"

"It is our boast but also our greatest sorrow. For you see, no mockingbird is able to sing his own song."

"Could it be true?" Eschel thought to himself. "A bird that cannot sing a song of his own? How sad!" He said to his mother, "I do not understand that."

Eschel's mother spoke directly to him, "Son, you must not fly with the flocks of scoffers, or nest crookedly with the crooked, or join in the company of mockers. If you heed my words you will be happy."

The young mockingbird paused and said, "Yes, mother, I will obey you," Though he wasn't sure.

Several days later Eschel's mother said to him, "Son, I am growing old and it is difficult for me to fly. Please fly into the forest and find some food for us."

"Yes, mother, I will obey you," He spoke earnestly.

After he had traveled some distance he began to look for berries. The other mocking birds called out to him:

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Why don't you come with us?
Took Took Took
We will repeat the calls of the blue jay
Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Enough laughs for all.

Eschel replied hesitantly, "Yes, lets do it."

The mockingbirds flew to the nest of the blue jay. They all hid in a closeby pine tree, and the oldest mockingbird called out.

"Tweeet! Tweet! Tweeeet!"

The blue jay began looking around.

"Tweeet! Honk! Honk! Tweet!"

The blue jay looked and saw the mockingbirds in the pine tree, and he lowered his head. The blue jay looked up again -this time at Eschel. Again, the blue jay lowered his head.

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
That was superb.
Took Took Took
Let us pay our friend the owl a visit.

So the mockingbirds flew to the nest of the owl. They landed in a sycamore tree and peeked around the side of the tree at the owl.

The eldest mockingbird spoke softly at Eschel: "Well ... call out to him."

Eschel paused. Then he sang out:

Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!
Hoot! Honk! Honk!

Unlike blue jays, owls have excellent ears. The owl did not look around to find Eschel. He fixed both of his large, brown eyes on Eschel immediately.

The other mockingbirds took flight, but before Eschel left the sycamore he heard the owl answer back:

"Eschel!"
"Eschel!"
"Eschel!"

With every call Eschel felt as if the owl was setting aside every bird in history to call out to him. His call was not high and light like Eschel's own call. It was deep and he could feel it with his feathers.

Eschel imagined it was not the owl calling, but every flying creature who had ever lived in the forest.

"Come here, Eschel!"

Eschel flew down to the owl's branch.

"You can call out with that loud, young voice of yours ... or was that your voice?" The owl then said, "Do you also have ears to hear with?"

What was the owl asking? "Yes, yes. I have ears to hear with."

"Then hear me now, if you can. You are a mocking bird. The only song you know is the song of scorn, for you take what little solace these creatures have in the world and you mock them for it.

"Listen to me, Eschel, for I have learned many things in my time. The mockingbirds you travel with love to take gladness from the other birds, but the gladness they find is a lie and it is really a bitterness and an envy."

"Why is it bitter?" Asked Eschel.

"The cruelest of the mockingbirds wish they had their own song to sing, but they never find one because they are always mocking the birds, the owls, the forest, even heaven itself."

"What must I do?" Asked Eschel.

"Return to your mother. And do not join in the mockery of the mockingbirds. If you have no song to sing, learn to sing the song of silence, as I have learned."

"Before I leave, owl, allow me to ask only this question: 'If my song is a silent song, who will hear it?'" Asked Eschel.

"Leave me now." Said the owl. "And peace be with you."

Eschel left the owl and began to fly home. "I must gather some berries before I return or my mother will know where I have been." And he began to look for some berries.

While Eschel was looking for food, rain began to fall from the sky. Eschel did not take long to find a berry, but by the time he made it back to the tree there was a great downpour.

To Eschel's great astonishment he did not see his mother in the nest. He looked over one side of the nest, and then the other side, but he did not see his mother.

Eschel did not know where his mother had gone. She was becoming older and could not fly far from the nest. Where could she have gone? The ground below was now far beneath the water. Eschel wished his mother was back in the nest.

Eschel wept.

To the other birds it might have sounded like Eschel was not saying anything, but inside he was calling to himself, "How I have overlooked the good in others! How I have overlooked the oversight of my mother! How I allowed myself to be deceived by my friends!"

As the rain came down, so too did Eschel pour himself out to heaven. "Please, do not take my mother from me!" He said.

Late in the night Eschel fell asleep.

When Eschel awoke the nest was empty. And he said to himself quietly, "Yes, just as I took the good in my life as nothing, I now have nothing. This is all as it should be. I have what I deserve."

In the distance he saw a older mockingbird approaching. She was carrying food in her mouth, and it was his mother!

Eschel felt as though he was snatched off the earth and taken up into the heavens -as if some giant had seized him and lifted him up into the sky.

Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!

He called out.

Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
Though I am the lowest of mockingbirds...
Freedid! Freedid! Freedid!
I have been extended all things!
Freebliss! Freebliss! Freebliss!
No song will ever convey
Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
The joy that is now mine.

He told his mother about the way he flew with the other mockingbirds and how he had mocked the owl. His mother listened and responded:

"Yes, that is how it is for us mockingbirds. Most of us laugh, and the few who do not laugh weep because we have laughed." She paused and said, "But the song I heard you sing was something new to me -even in my age. Where did you learn it?"

"The owl did not teach it to me, but he told me how to hear it."

And so Eschel continued to gather food for his mother. As he searched in the forest he would occasionally sing,

Freebliss! Freebliss! Freebliss!
No song will ever convey
Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
The joy that is now mine.

The other mockingbirds heard Eschel's song and they said to each other, "This fellow is making light of songs that are not sung by birds!" And they called out insults against him.

But every now and then another mocking bird would hear Eschel's song and say, "A song that is not from any other bird!" And they would teach it to the other mockingbirds.

And to this day, when you hear a mockingbird, he is probably singing the song of another bird, but every mockingbird has his own song which he may instead sing.

A Guide To Lawn Decoration

Northern Indiana has a large, thriving deer population. Often people here see so many deer they are surprised to learn there are places where deer are hunted: "You hunt deer in California? We hit them with our cars over here!".

Anyway, my family liked to watch for deer while on the road when I was a child.

One day while traveling east to Kokomo, my mom spotted two deer within a house's frontyard. The deer were not real, they were some kind of lawn ornament. My mom remarked that it seemed strange to buy lawn ornaments and then put them in hard-to-see places. My dad responded by saying the best place to put those deer is in a place where the eye finds them only by accident.

I didn't quite understand my father that day. My taste in esthetics was about as sharp as keeping my crayons inside the lines.

Looking back on my father's suggestion I understand what he was saying. If the deer were in the middle of the yard, we'd all seem them right away, and it wouldn't look real or pleasant to the eye. In fact it would look pretty tacky.

Devotion is similar. In the initial stages it is like a secret that one keeps in ones heart, yet the one who has it longs to share it with his beloved.

Jesus and Paul both note that no one has seen God. This inconspicuous preference of God is perhaps one of the most conspicuous ascpects of life.

If God wants us to know Him so much, why doesn't he just write across the sky: "I am God. Get to know me!". Athiests are constantly asking this question. And here the advantage and disadvantage of athiesm speaks clearly.

"If God exists," the athiest claims, "And He wants people to know him, why doesn't he become like the lawn ornament in the middle of the yard where everyone can see and recognize Him at once?" The advantage of this view is that there is no mystery, but this is also the disadvantage of the view.

Using some decorative extrapolation, I have determined the athiest approach to lawn decoration: bright, neon-pink flamingos. Large inflatable gnomes. Maybe some card-board cutouts of famous celebrities like Ben Affleck and Gwyneth Paltrow. I suppose there could be some lighted signs, and -oh wait- I'm thinking of Las Vegas now. Wouldn't it be neat to have a lawn like Las Vegas?

Let's just say my lawn is never going to look like Las Vegas.

Having reviewed God's style and the way it relates to lawn decoration, let us consider what it would be like to live a life as someone who has been transformed by the power of God's style. Consider this passage from Isaiah:

Here is my servant whom I have chosen,
the one I love, in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will proclaim justice to the nations.
He will not quarrel or cry out;
no one will hear his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out,
till he leads justice to victory.
In his name the nations will put their hope.

The style of the writer is a bit unusual here. This servant is 'proclaiming' something in a way that seems to be especially strong. Yet at the same time his voice will not be heard in the streets.

"Everyone who seeks finds, everyone who asks is given, and everyone who knocks will have the door opened for him."

When a person has mastered the arts of style and good taste they are commonly referred to as "cultivated". Good esthetics appeal to the preferences of our eyes, yet this talent takes a great deal of training and dedication.

So too, in the life of devotion, a person who claims to love must not base his commitment on the loud, showy things he sees happening. He must learn to see with new eyes. To hear with new ears. He must be aware also of his strongest inner longings, and not simply the ones passing quickly on the surface.

Calvin's Decision

My favorite book in the forth grade (courtesy of Mr. Winningham at Carrol Elementary) was Wayside School is Falling Down. In Chapter fourteen Calvin is turning a year older. He explains to his friends what he values as a birthday present. His explanation is particularly interesting as it relates to time:

See, I usually get toys ... but they break, or get lost, or something happens to them. But this year I'm getting something I'll never lose. I'll have it for the rest of my life.

Calvin is a boy who looks at the way immediacy is overshadowed in the possession of a lifelasting gift. Unlike most children, this longing is stirring inside him, and it is a powerful force. In the story it brings him to an absurd possibility.

When Terrence asks him what he's going to get, he replies, "A tattoo."

Then come the suggestions from his classmates.

Steven tells him to get a snake. Deedee tells him to get an eagle, saying, "They're the best!". Kathy emphatically suggests Calvin get a tattoo of a dead rat. Jason tells him to get a naked lady.

Calvin responds to his peers with one of the most profound reflections I have ever heard in my life:

I just don't know ... I've never had to make such a tough decision. Nothing else I do matters very much. It's not like choosing jelly beans! If you pick the wrong color jelly bean, big deal, you can always spit it out. But once you get a tattoo, you can't change your mind. You can't erase tattoos. Whatever I get I'll have for the rest of my life!

Calvin describes in some sense a mood he feels in light of making a lasting choice. It is a choice he intends to be committed to. The effects of his choice will be with him while he is glad to have made the choice, and the effects will be with him when if he regrets it too.

Although getting a tattoo has nothing to do with devotion per se, Calvin's choice shows the anxiety of standing before the rest of our lives with a choice to make. The devotional life is similar in this way, and I often find myself in a similar state when I hear God's words as He speaks them to me: "You shall love ...".

Calvin's friends are in the light-hearted world where amusements are here today and thrown away the next day. But Calvin desires to approach life with a certain kind of seriousness. An approach that he can seriously live with.

In this light the fun, (and in Jason's case) erotic aspects of the choice are transfigured by its permanence.

It was easy for the others to make suggestions. They wouldn't have to live with it for the rest of their lives.

So Calvin returns to school the next day, and everyone is curious about what he got. He recalls a provoking conversation with his father:

It was a real tough decision ... I almost got a leopard fighting a snake. But then my dad told me to think about it. He said it was sort of like getting a second nose. You may think you want another nose, because that way if one nose gets stuffed up, you can breathe through the other nose. But then he asked me, 'Calvin, do you really want two noses?'

The father's counsel is wise (as the teacher is quick to point out), but in a peculiar kind of way. He makes a foolish suggestion and then argues in favor of it, and then says, 'But do you really want to make this foolish choice?'.

In a way, the father's advice is not to lean on our 'thoughts' about what to choose, but to instead look at making the choices we can live with ... to look at our priorities and notice instead the things we want, and not necessarily the things which have the most easily recognized value.

Calvin shows off his tattoo. It's a potato.

Everyone groans. They start telling Calvin all the things they would have gotten: a kangaroo, an eagle, a lightning bolt, etc. Bebe tells Calvin, "It's a pretty potato ... I wish I could draw potatoes that good." But the narrator tells us: "But even Bebe thought it was a dumb tattoo."

An important consideration for living a life of devotion is that when attains a personally impassioned understanding of what one wants, one will often find that few others are also interested in that thing.

And the ones who say they do are usually liars.

The end of the chapter is magnificent. I will quote it in entirity.

All day everyone told Calvin what they would have gotten: a fire-breathing dragon, a lightning bold, a creature from outer space.
None of them said they would have gotten a potato.
But Calvin knew better. He knew it was easy for his friends to say what they would have gotten, because they really hadn't had to choose. He was the only one who really knew what it was like to pick a tattoo. Even Mrs. Jewls didn't know that.
He looked at his potato. He smiled. It made him happy.
He was sure he had made the right choice.
At least he was pretty sure.

The Boy By The Railing

"...The most important moments are rarely center stage; they most often happen 'in the wings'. Have you found that to be true, too? That what you expected to be the big occasion of the main event turned out to be merely an excuse for you to be somewhere in order to be touched by something you might have otherwise considered of little importance?"
Fred Rogers, Life's Journey's p. 137

My wife teaches at a small junior highschool in Delphi. This is some distance from our house, and she travels it almost everyday. Before summer started I went with her to attend her students' graduation ceremony. I'm glad I made the trip.

Graduation night was extravant. The music was hard to dismiss. The choreography was precise. The food was high-profile. The only aspect I found distasteful was the valedictorian speech, which I found full of words that no human eighth grader should ever speak.

The valedictorian was a short, black young man named Andrew. He was dressed entirely in white (but his basketball shoes were black and white). My wife, Elizabeth informed me that he had put more work into his studies than all the other students combined. The auditorium was full of praise for the young man.

After the ceremony the people began to mix. Graduations - like most of the events at her school - were social affairs. The parents were glad for their children, but for most it seemed to be the exact time for posturing ... insincere compliments ... and lots of networking.

I walked outside the auditorium to get some space. Outside I saw the valedictorian holding a large trophy. I was about to pretend I didn't see him, but he addressed me suddenly saying, "I worked so hard for this night, but you know what? I hardly feel like it means anything!"

Touch of the Master's Hand

As a child I remember having a giant framed poem on the living room wall. The writing was highly stylized - probably by my grandmother who is a professional calligrapher. I wasn't old enough to read at the time, so I asked my parents to read it for me. The poem was titled, "The Touch of The Master's Hand".


The Touch of the Master's Hand
by Myra Brooks Welch

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who will start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar" --then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, twice;
"Going for three --" But no,
From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings.
He played a melody pure and sweet
As sweet as a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said what am I bidden for the old violin?
And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand twice;
And going, and gone!" said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the master's hand.

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scattered with sin,
Is auctioned off cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;
A game -- and he travels on.
He's "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and "almost gone."
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.

1-2-3 JUMP!

My mother in law is visiting, so we found a nice room at the Embassy Suites. My favorite thing about the place is the pools. One of Elizabeth's friends brought over her three-old-son, Clayton, to the pool yesterday.

I enjoy spending time with Clayton. I learn and relearn a lot about childhood when I'm around him. Sometimes I see him do something funny, and I take it comically, but then I remember how similar he is to me and I pause.

For example, yesterday Clayton was excited about getting into the pool. Then he put his finger in and shuddered. He watched the water for a minute. Then he went over to his mom and said, "I'm going to count to three and then jump into the pool." He looked enthusiastic. This was going to be the brilliant solution.

The ladies were taking their time getting in.

So Clayton went over to the edge. "One ..." He said confidently. "Two," he said slowly. "Three!" He shouted but did not jump.

I find it hard to know what people are thinking - especially children. Having some similar experiences myself as a boy, my guess is that Clayton was so enthusiastic about "using numbers" that he overlooked the work of choosing to jump into the pool. It's like, "Hey! I can count to three!" But what do these numbers, these ideas have to do with the decision part?

A friend of mine told me at work yesterday: "I don't mind listening to professors, but, honestly, I think gamblers understand life better than teachers do." And I agree. Life demands choices when everything can seem unclear. The hard part is we are responsible for what we decide.

But most people are seldom aware of their choices. So many things get blamed on habit or necessity. But kids aren't like that.

Understanding Charlie Brown

Have you ever tried to understand someone, but the words got in the way?

As a child I once watched a cartoon where some children are given some comics. In the cartoon, the children are not very old and can't read. So they have to make up their own words. One of the kids is selected to be the narrator.

The first strip is Peanuts. Charlie Brown says something to Lucy. The narrator says, "Hi there, Lucy. I see you have a football there." And then Lucy says something. The narrator says, "Yeah, you want to kick it, Charlie Brown?" Then Charlie Brown runs over and tries to kick the football. Lucy moves the ball and he goes flying through the air.

The kids try to decide what he's saying as he flies through the air.

One kid says, "He should say something tragic." Another kid says, "He should say something dramatic." Another kid says, "He should say something about how he feels." Another kid says, "He should say what he's thinking right then."

Then the narrator shouts out, "Uuugh!!".

The other kids pause for a moment. Then they congratulate the narrator for his word choice.

In the actual comic strip, Charlie Brown says, "Uuugh!!". I wonder if the narrator would understand Charlie Brown any better if he had the ability to read.

A Neighbor in the Neighborhood

"Discovering the truth about ourselves is a lifetime's work, but it's worth the effort." -Fred Rogers

I can still remember the highschool assembly when my Japanese teacher talked to us about Mister Rogers. I was totally shocked ... dumbfounded to learn that this man held a couple masters degrees and was an ordained presybeterian minister.

My experience had been that very educated people (and often ministers too) tended to address very high-minded ideas in very high-minded ways. And if they couldn't do this, then they addressed ordinary things in high-minded ways. But not Fred Rogers.

Certainly Mister Rogers was an educator ... but unlike the ocean of teachers who stammer on and on about how to perfect "the system" and how education can bring meaning to life, Mr. Rogers seemed perfectly content to talk about how flashlights work, how he couldn't describe the way popcorn tasted, and doing whatever he could to relate to his audience.

Another thing about people with Masters degrees: they often make the distinction of their education as direct and recognizable as they can. Mister Rogers never presented himself as a man of worldly distinction. He seemed totally satisfied putting on his jacket. The set was at his "house", and he seemed very at home interacting with children.

"Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth"

A surprising story I read on wikipedia: apparently Fred Rogers drove an older Impala. One day Mister Rogers went to leave the studio and it was missing. This made headlines: "Mr. Roger's car has been stolen". The car showed up in the exact spot it was left with a note: "If we had known who the owner was, we wouldn't have stolen it!"

Another example: Eddie Murphy played a satirical version of Mr. Rogers on Saturday Night Live. Sure, it's easy to laugh at people who have simple-minded things to say. But when Murphy had the chance to meet Mr. Rogers he respectfully called him, "The real Mr. Rogers."

The stories about people respecting Mr. Rogers go on and on. I'm leaving out the story where the Supreme Court directly cited his testimony in a VCR case. Why do people strive so diligently to achieve wordly distinctions when a person who they consider to be great seems to have no wordly distinction or holds them very loosely?

Nice weather for the ducks!

Last weekend Eric, Sarah, Elizabeth, and I went to Highland park in Kokomo. Originally the two wives probably wanted to go to the beach, but I suggested we go to the city park. And besides, there's always the chance of feeding the ducks.

Eric and Sarah have a couple kids, Jeriah, less than a few months old, and Clayton who I figure is somewhere around two or three.

Sarah grabbed an old loaf of bread before we left. The bread wasn't molding or anything, but you could tell it was getting along. When we arrived Sarah tore a piece of bread in half and tossed it toward the ducks. The ducks went right for it.

Clayton, although very young, was probably old enough to tell we were all watching him and counting on him to be amused by this new experience. He took a whole slice of bread and threw it at a few ducks in the water, who kept swimming but eventually went around to snack on the bread.

Of course the adults were glad to see Clayton (who only knows a couple words) was cooperating with our afternoon plans. We proceeded to praise and applaud the youngster, who smiled.

He went over to the bread again and picked another whole slice of bread. He went over to the ducks again, but this time instead of throwing a piece at them, he stood there looking at the bread.

"Clayton," Eric spoke up loudly. "Throw the bread at the ducks!"
Clayton looked down at the bread and then over at his dad again.
"Clayton!" His dad shouted.

Before we could understand what he had done, Clayton had placed the entire slice of bread in his mouth, which was a couple sizes smaller than the slice of bread. Eric looked puzzled. Clayton was not accustomed to wolfing down his food ... let alone duck food.

Clayton went back over to the bread and picked another slice of bread. He took it near the ducks, who didn't seem any more eager for the bread than earlier, and looked at the bread. Then he put the entire slice in his mouth. Sarah squinted down at Clayton and then turned to Eric. "Why's he doing that?" She asked.

Eric looked sternly upon his son. Eventually he smiled and said, "I guess he was hungry!"

My take on it was this: to a small child with more than enough to eat, food is just food. But when the time comes to start throwing food to ducks, well, this is food! It's not entertainment! This is serious business!

"When Darius was fleeing from Alexander, he managedto get a drink of some muddy water, polluted by corpses. However, he declared he had never drunk anything better - since whenever he drank before, he said, he had never known what it was to be thirsty." -Cicero