FIVE QUESTIONS

A while back, in a fit of what must have been caffeine-induced self insight, I wrote down the following questions on a Post-it note on my desk:

1. What am I doing to serve my God better?


2. What am I doing to serve my wife better? (Now I would probably add my son to this one)


3. What am I doing to serve my employer better?


4. What am I doing to serve my church better?


5. What am I doing to serve the lost better?

These things must have been sitting on my desk for the last 6 months, at least. I don't have an answer for any of them yet, but I do know that sometimes they're hard to read.

Technorati Tags: God, questions, life, better me

NEW MUSIC: Mute Math

I know I promised some more video, but I'm eager to try out a new web geek toy here, and to share with you a new band I like.

I give you the sweet rock stylings of Mute Math!

Mute Math Discography from Pandora

Why you should like them:

• They're one of those crossover Christian bands, much like Switchfoot.


• In fact, their sound reminds me of Switchfoot a lot. In a very very good way.


• They're from New Orleans.

You'll like them if you like...
From Pandora's biography:

Giddily swiping ideas from several decades' worth of alternative rock, New Orleans electro-rock quartet Mute Math at times recall New Order's synth-dance epics, the shambling shuffle of the Stone Roses and the rest of the Madchester scene, the spiky chilliness of prime Radiohead, Air's serene ambient pop, and somewhat incongruously, the booming vocals of mainstream alt-rockers of the post-Eddie Vedder era.

So now let me try out this new toy I mentioned, a great site called SeeqPod. Basically it's a search engine for music on the internet, with really schnazzy player and sharing elements.

Let's see it in action! Enjoy the music!

SeeqPod Music beta - Playable Search

THE RESURRECTION EGGS-PERIENCE

So the dear wife and I were out looking for a Secret Sister gift from a local Christian Bookstore, and we noticed that they not only HAD these cute little items, but were running a special on them! They're called Resurrection Eggs, and I thought I was going to write a big blog entry referencing the Origin of the Easter Bunny, and why it was silly to use an ancient, pagan symbol of fertility (the Egg, not the plastic) to educate kids about the Lord Our Savior Jesus Christ.

But then, I decided to actually use my brain.

Kids don't care about the eggs. Kids don't think of them as a pagan symbol, and kids have no clue where the Easter Bunny comes from, nor do they care - as long as they get candy. Easter Eggs are about discovery, surprises, and rewards.

And actually, that's what the Resurrection is about, too.


Technorati Tags: eggs, easter, resurrection, christian, bunny

AND THEN, JESUS GOT A MYSPACE PAGE

Okay, what is wrong with the world? A blog from a bible translation makes the front page on del.icio.us?? And it's about mapping New Testament social networks??? Oh I am IN!

I FOUND GOD IN THE DALLAS OBSERVER: Bible Girl

Yes, I mean that Dallas Observer.  It's a weird concept, I know, because nobody thinks of the Dallas Observer as being a bastion of anything remotely religious, much less Christian.

And yet, in the middle of their very snarky and very fun blog, Unfair Park, I found a little column called "Bible Girl."

It's written by what may be the most rare creature on Earth - an evangelical Christian working in the alternative press. If this isn't "in the world but not of the world," then I don't know what is. I read, re-read, and memorized parts of her post on her struggle with homosexuality entitled The Mystery of Sexual Orientation.

My favorite quote:

My “deliverance” from depression and a broken sexual identity did involve choices. I ultimately wanted to obey God more than I wanted to sin.

If you're using an RSS reader, I encourage you to check in on Bible Girl every chance you get. Actually, even if you don't, you should.

Technorati Tags: religion, God, spirituality

ZEN AND THE ART OF CUBICLE LIFE

I'm going to be stringing a few different concepts together here, so bear with me...

My Dad works as an engineer, fixing complicated data storage sytems in mostly oil companies and government hush-hush black holes around the world. He's got a favorite saying: when resolving an issue depends much more on the natures of the people involved than the physical electron-routing problem itself, he likes to call this an "Electro-Political Issue."

Apt title, if you ask me. And I know that even if you work at McDonalds flipping burgers for a livin', you deal with politics to some degree. People want to get what they want, and sometimes that means that the right thing, the thing that needs to happen, doesn't. What's more, in order to do the thing you're being paid to do, sometimes you're going to have to bend over backward to get someone else what they want.

I've always been intrigued with the concept of Zen. It's become a very fashionable term: "That's so Zen," or "I just had to zen out," or even Everything Zen. If you take a look at the true meaning of the word, it comes from a form of Buddhism - a religion whose main goal is the end of suffering. Zen seeks to obtain insight into the end of suffering through long periods of meditation; specifically, a seated meditation called zazen. This is a moment of complete self-denial, in which one seeks to completely remove the mind of all thought, so that it may be opened to a new enlightenment. Again, this is the true key of Zen, whether practiced in meditation, archery or even motorcycle maintenance - complete denial of self-thought to focus on a task, even if that task is to clear the mind entirely.

If you work very long in a corporate setting, you'll find plenty of people who want very much to be successful. They put their whole heart and soul into a task to squeeze every last drop of gain, improvement or recognition. Workaholics, we may call them, because their exhaustive grip of passion is so engaged with their work that they can't take a moment to detach and nourish their personal lives. And through this process, could we call them truly successful? Even if they earn tons of money, can we call them a success if their personal lives are in such shambles they have nothing of true worth to spend it on?

Sometimes we get so caught up in playing the game: working the people, gaining the influence, putting my pedestal higher and higher, running after this dangling carrot of a goal. We run and run and run, and even if we finally reach what we want, we find it wasn't worth it in the first place.

What we need at work is a good dose of ZEN, and I think it's the completely Christian thing to do.

I'll show you: take a look at this verse:

"And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." -- Colossians 3:17

You see, we get all entangled within the vain passions of work when we do it for US. When we put in those extra hours so that WE can get noticed or WE can produce more than the next guy. Our priorities get out of whack because WE think that we can sacrifice the personal to gain in the professional. And yet, when we follow that kind of path, it seems like both suffer in the long run.

Paul here advocates a Zen-like approach to work - a complete denial of self by doing EVERYTHING for God. We don't work to promote ourselves or our agenda, we work because that's what God has put in front of us, and we give it the attention and passion it deserves. BUT, when God puts something else in front of us, like a family that's expecting us home for dinner and kids that need a strong parental role model, we put down the one task to take up the other. There's no regret or hesitation in doing this, because we're completely focused on HIS agenda, not ours. Considering whether a task is worthy of our time takes on a higher meaning, because we've got a whole new paradigm to frame it in.

And, when the office gets political, when things get snippy and catty, when people promote themselves within the guise of a job, we don't take the bait. Why? Because we're only doing God's work on this Earth, and we don't NEED the recognition of a false sense of accomplishment. We don't need to hang our self-worth on an initiative or program, because God makes the call, and we are genuinely content with His answer.

There's a concept in sports called "pushing" or "forcing" your game. It happens when you're so driven to succeed, you start to make rash decisions in the hope of an ever diminishing return. You drive the ball instead of passing, because you want that next hoop so bad. You swing at a pitch that's outside the strike zone, because you want that RBI for your stats so much. You really try to smack the ball off the tee as hard as you can, because you want those extra few yards on your drive. Of course, the result of this phenomenon is that you actually end up getting LESS: more misses, more whiffs, less distance.

When we give up our own agenda in the workplace through a Zen-like medition on what's important to God, we protect ourselves from pushing our own game. When you're not forcing a task into place - trying to will a job to work the way YOU think it should - you're actually MORE productive. Denial of self actually makes your self work BETTER.

Perhaps the Psalmist says it best:

"Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him,
And He shall bring it to pass."
-- Psalms 37:5

Technorati Tags: zen, God, sports, work, life, cubicle, politics, self improvement

AN OUTSIDER TALKS ABOUT THE "DISCIPLE GENERATION"

I got the chance to read this article from Salon (you'll have to watch a brief ad to view the whole article) about the Mars Hill Church in Seattle, written by someone who's probably not a Christian but is very interested in this new movement. He labels it the "Disciple Generation," and I can't tell if I'm heartened by seeing a community of believers that bring an honest version of themselves - music, culture, tattoos and all - to worship God, or if I'm concerned about a religion trying to make itself so insular that its members hold tighter to the group than to God.

For example, here's a quote from one of their founding ministers, Mark Driscoll:

"They know there's more to life than waking up, eating what's in the fridge, watching what's on TV, and then going back to bed, than the rest of their porn-addicted, video-game-playing, loser friends," he tells me. "That's what I give them through the Bible. I say, let me give you some rules, not to be a jerk, but to help you out. And when was the last time that anyone in their busted-up family did that?"

I love that concept. But then I read this quote and editorial after the writer describes the church blessing babies on Father's Day:

In a husky voice, the 35-year-old pastor prays for the continuous fertility of his congregation. "We are in a city with less children per capita than any city but San Francisco," he declares, "and we consider it our personal mission to turn that around."

The way Driscoll sees it, the more babies his conservative Christian congregation can produce in this child-poor city, the more they can redirect local politics, public education, and culture in one of the liberal capitals of the world. To complete his trifecta of indoctrinating, voting, and breeding, Driscoll has developed a community that dwarfs any living experiment of the '60s.

Maybe the writer's just being paranoid, or maybe there's something more domineering at work here - I don't know yet. But it's an interesting read, nonetheless.


NOTE: I found out after reading that this is not the same as the Mars Hill Bible Church, home of the incredible speaker Rob Bell. I've actually listened to some of his podcasts, and I really like what he has to say. As far as I know, their beliefs are different than those of the Mars Hill (no Bible) Church.

Technorati Tags: disciple, generation, mars, hill, bible, church, God, Christian

HOPES FROM SHAWSHANK

Saw The Shawshank Redemption again yesterday, and this line from Ellis Boyd 'Red' Redding (played by the great Morgan Freeman) just stuck out in my mind:

I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

Some days I look at my life and I'm so excited that I can barely sit still, because it's a journey of freedom. I hope that I can make it across this life's vaporous border into my own Paradise With No Memory. I hope to see my ultimate Friend and Redeemer and shake His hand, hug Him, or just stand there and look into His eyes. I hope That Place is far greater than it has ever been in my dreams.

I hope.

Technorati Tags: hope, paradise, shawshank, redemption, quote

ALMA MATER

I had the joy of visting my dear alma mater this Easter weekend, for the spectacle we all know as Spring Sing. I try to tell people at work why in the world I'm heading back to Arkansas, but they never seem to really get it. By far, the best part about the whole event for my wife and me is getting to see people we were in college with - friends we can reconnect with over shared bonds of wild experiences and lessons learned since. The best time to see everyone is the cast party after the Saturday night show - a tradition that spans at least a decade and has always been in the same place, so all the old folks know where it is. We all gather 'round, do all that sharing, sing our crazy club songs for each other and swelter in an overcrowded room with college students burning up from activity, excitement and adrenaline.

We stayed up late (well, late for us old married folks) into the night, then had to wake up for church at an hour that seemed so early it could probably be only represented by an imaginary number. Blearily my wife and I stumbled into Sunday-appropriate clothes and steadied each other down the shuffling walk to the hotel complimentary breakfast. We'd reached that state of tired where the caffeine wakes your body up just enough that it realizes truly how tired you are and only wants to sleep more. Adding condiments with that level of fine motor control is just a joke, as I managed to turn my preprocessed egg patties into a salty mess in very short order. With the in-laws driving (thankfully), we made it to early service at church and found seats quickly, hoping nobody noticed our almost-a-hangover.

I don't know how you get when you're truly tired, but when I'm at that point, I find that my emotions come to me frighteningly fast. It's as though that buffer of my usual good sense is stripped away by fatigue, and everything I'm feeling strikes to the top in vivid color in every case. I tell you all this to say that while all that tempted me to just dismiss what I felt at worship that day, I couldn't shake these emotions because they seemed grounded in a deeper truth than I planned on encountering.

Worship was great - a well-paced combination of scriptures and songs, with very few moments taken for sermonizing or announcements. My father in-law was so thankful for a tempo that kept him from sleep that he thanked the minister personally! The fully planned part of the service ended with the traditional invitation, a moment that only signalled to my fuzzy mind that it was time to stand, and that the end was near at last. I can honestly say that my mind was upon things Divine during the worship, but I can also say that the chance to eat again and hopefully regain some portion of my energy at lunch was definitely thought of.

With the invitation song fully in stride, and everyone standing to clear the aisles, a father and his daughter made their way to the front row of seats. The girl could only have been 14 or 15 at the most, and she must have had something like Cerebral Palsy or Spina Bifida, because her motions were forced through tremoring muscles and wavering steps.

She leaned in a familiar way upon her father as she pushed her disobedient body down an aisle that must have seemed 60 feet long to her, even though it would be only 6 feet to a ruler. It was hard to watch her body force her to make several attempts at sitting down, but she seemed to have a peculiar expression on her face - a mixture of determination, happiness and anxiety. The preacher came down to meet her at the front, and a whole row of college students (that probably didn't know her) left their seats to find ones behind her in support.

The song ended and we all sat back down, some finally seeing over the crowd what all the hubub was about. The preacher returned to his pulpit to tell us the good news: Kaitlin, this girl, wanted to be baptized. From that moment, it just caught me; I was so emotionally touched by seeing this girl, wrestling not only with the life questions that come with being a teenager, but also the ones screamed out by this degenerative disease, seeing that in the face of all of this her soul had found it's one true and supreme Love - and that she wanted to show her love in practice. A definite lump lodged itself in my throat and defied any attempts at manly supression. This girl was going to demonstrate to me something deeper than I'd come prepared to see: a naked and beautiful truth about the One I chose for my Lord and Master.

Her father rose to his feet, and lended his strength to help his daughter to hers. He told us that they had rehearsed this occasion thoroughly the night before, but that Kaitlin found herself to be very nervous this Easter morning in the face of all of the reality and all the people (a packed auditorium of easily 500). A muffled laugh swept through the crowd as we all remembered our baptism Day, or just empathized with her stage fright. The father told us he would just go through all the points they talked about, and let her just affirm her answers.

"Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?"

Nod.

"And do you believe that he came down to Earth?"

Another nod.

"And that He died for our sins and rose again?"

More nods, as the signals for this motion echoed through her neck's muscles.

"And do you believe that He's coming back one day to take us with Him to be in Heaven with the Father?"

"Yes!" - uncertain lips unable to restrain a certain voice.

The father said through tears and joy that he was so proud of her, and that they were now going to baptize her for the remission of her sins. A spotty "Amen" wove through the crowd, and my view of the scene distorted as my eyes suddenly found themselves handling more water than they were capable.

Men and women came forward to help as the parties were separated to their respective sides of the baptistry, where the daughter donned a "gown" (more like a waterproof bag with holes and a zipper), and the father strapped on Arkansas-redneck-appropriate camoflauge waders. The two came together again in the middle through sounds of rustling water, and the daughter again clung to her father for support. Her father's words dropped sotto voce as a crash course in "How to Survive Baptism Without Drowning" with the ever-essential "Chapter 5 - Hold on to Your Nose" was administered. He returned to full volume with words I've always found to be simply magical:

"...I now baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son..."

The daughter broke the plane of the water, finding its symbolic burial below.

"..and of the Holy Spirit."

Her father pulled her from the water to what must have been an incredibly beautiful scene - his "newborn" daughter taking the first breath of her second life. Dry clothes and propriety aside, the father held his daughter tight in joy and love - and I noticed something.

For the first time since I'd seen her begin this journey, she wasn't shaking.

And as I applauded with the rest of the congregation, I couldn't help but think...

My life is wracked daily with the struggles of sin. My spirit has to force my body to walk a straight path each and every second of my life. I lean on my Father, and should do so familiarly as He guides me through my struggle. We walk a path that to His eternal eye seems but a few steps, and seems to me to be the fullness of decades. He washes me in the power of His Redemption through His grace and mercy. And one day He will call me up from the plane I inhabit, and He will view his favorite sight: His child taking the first breath of an eternal life with Him. And even though I may have lived decades, I will cling to Him with joy and love as a child.

And never again will I be shaken.