Yesterday, I caught a snippet Dennis Prager’s radio show where he challenged those who believe that crass commercialization has ruined Christmas. With playful sarcasm, he reasoned, “During one period of time each year, the great majority of Americans feel obligated to buy presents for their friends and relatives. Imagine that! What an awful thing!”
He had me there.
He goes on. “Spending one's money on presents for people is one of the nicest traditions in society and ought to be cultivated, not discouraged.”
Now, I have to admit. I have grumbled incessantly about buying gifts. “I’m not a big shopper,” I reason. “People have too much ‘stuff’” anyway!” But I think I’ve missed the point. It’s not about what people need, and it’s not about me.
I don’t know all that there is to know about love, but I do know this. Love is extravagant. That’s why diamond rings were invented. Their very extravagance says, “I treasure you.” When Barry and I got engaged, we were serving as missionaries in an urban mission in Amsterdam. We were poor as dirt, but we went window-shopping for rings. I fell in love with a very simple, dainty ring with a very small diamond. We ventured inside where the sales associate told us that the diamond in this particular ring was a lower quality “brown” diamond versus the flawless and superior “blue-white” diamond. (Amsterdam is THE place to learn about diamonds.) I didn’t mind. Heck, I was thinking I’d be lucky to get cubic zirconium. I thought it was a beautiful little ring and it suited me just fine, but I wasn’t sure Barry had funds even for this.
A few weeks later, we went out to dinner, and he surprised me with that very ring. But when I looked at it closely, I realized that the brilliance of the diamond was different. It was the blue-white diamond. He had asked the jeweler to switch out the brown diamond for the blue one. In his mind, the lower quality just wouldn’t do for the girl who would become his wife. Relatively speaking, for us this was beyond extravagant. It was lavish, but I’ll never forget the loving intent behind the gesture.
Such expressions of love are far more about giver’s love than the receiver’s need or merit. (Think of Joseph and his amazing multi-colored coat, a gift that was ALL about the father’s love versus Joseph’s merit.) We don’t earn a right to be loved, and, if we’re honest, we often don’t deserve it. But when you love someone, say, your children, for instance—you love them even when they are rotten. Like from the age of around 13 to 20. And you give them things they don’t deserve, like 2nd and 3rd chances, or forgiveness, or your time and energy when you are tired. We give our children precious pieces of our heart every day because we love them, even if they don’t always love us back the way we would wish. And that’s how love often works.
Clearly—gift giving is no substitute for the daily hard work of loving each other day in and day out, through thick and thin. But when that hard work is crowned by an extravagant gift (extravagance being purely relative to each individual’s circumstance and resources), the gift becomes a wonderful expression and symbol of the love that it represents.
So is it such a bad thing to get over myself long enough to consider a way, through a tangible gift, to encourage and bring a little joy to others? I’m thinking…no.
God is the first and most supreme gift giver. Clearly, it brings God joy to give to us. Besides life itself, is there any more lavish gift than one’s first-born and only son? As if that weren’t enough, God’s giving doesn’t even stop there. He continues to open his hand to us. Should we do any less?
“If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8: 31-32
Now, I’m ready to go Christmas shopping.
Read Denis Prager's thoughtful essay.
12/11/09
12/8/09
"Makes No Sense" Joy
2 Corinthians 4: 6-9, 16-18
6 For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. 7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body…16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
A few days ago, things looked pretty bleak for someone that I love. And when you love someone through a tough time, let's face it, you go through it with them. But as I was driving one day, it occurred to me that while my heart was heavy and I felt the weight of sadness, I had this inexplicable hope. Weird as it seemed, I even had joy. What was that?
Then I recalled this passage from the Book of 2 Corinthians. Paul is a man who knows conflict. Chased out of more than one town, usually running for his life, he was well acquainted with adversity. Once he was stoned by a mob and left for dead. He was dragged in and out of courtrooms, jailhouses, and was even shipwrecked. Remarkably, though, he did not despair. He holds on to those "things unseen" with joyful hope in his heart. And as I felt the weight of my own sadness, I realized that my hope and joy arise from the same source of Paul’s certainty. It is certainty and hope in a God who is at work in and for us, no matter what our circumstances. This is a God who never allows our sorrow to be wasted, and who has already demonstrated, in Christ, what his love for us (and his glory) looks like. That, my friends, is a reason for hope and joy.
6 For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. 7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body…16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
A few days ago, things looked pretty bleak for someone that I love. And when you love someone through a tough time, let's face it, you go through it with them. But as I was driving one day, it occurred to me that while my heart was heavy and I felt the weight of sadness, I had this inexplicable hope. Weird as it seemed, I even had joy. What was that?
Then I recalled this passage from the Book of 2 Corinthians. Paul is a man who knows conflict. Chased out of more than one town, usually running for his life, he was well acquainted with adversity. Once he was stoned by a mob and left for dead. He was dragged in and out of courtrooms, jailhouses, and was even shipwrecked. Remarkably, though, he did not despair. He holds on to those "things unseen" with joyful hope in his heart. And as I felt the weight of my own sadness, I realized that my hope and joy arise from the same source of Paul’s certainty. It is certainty and hope in a God who is at work in and for us, no matter what our circumstances. This is a God who never allows our sorrow to be wasted, and who has already demonstrated, in Christ, what his love for us (and his glory) looks like. That, my friends, is a reason for hope and joy.
11/11/09
Same Kind of Different as Me
Same Kind of Different as Me: A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together by Ron HallWow--talk about a challenging book. You cannot walk away from this book without feeling compelled to re-examine how you view "the least of these."
View all my reviews >>
8/31/09
Julie & Julia
Just finished reading Julie and Julia, and I’m left with mixed feelings. It’s a fun story with an engaging “what if” premise: A frustrated anonymous cubicle dweller is in need of a creative challenge. (Ok, we’re with you so far. We all get that). Insert the self-imposed challenge by said cubicle dweller, Julie Powell, to take one year to work her way through quintessential Julie Child cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Vol. 1). Like a good recipe for a cocktail, add to the mix Julie’s high-strung, slightly neurotic personality, her monotonous day job, her personal attempts to create her own Cordon Bleu in Queens by night, an accountability group/cheerleading squad of blog followers, and one incredibly long-suffering husband, and you have the makings for a story that keeps readers happy for days! And it almost holds up, but Powell, unfortunately, allows herself to get in the way.
The story, when not obscured, is highly entertaining. The descriptions of the shopping trips alone were fascinating, leaving would-be gourmets nodding their heads and wondering, “Where DO you find beef suet? And what is beef suet anyway?” Anyone with a love for culinary adventures is automatically on Julie’s side, cheering her on, especially if, like Julie you may not even own decent knife—much less a gourmet kitchen. We want her, like Cinderella, to escape the cubicle and arrive in time for the grand ball (which in this case is a kitchen—so the analogy breaks down a little, but you get the point).
Powell is also charmingly honest about her own failures. We feel her pain through grey, gloppy sweetbreads, failed poach-egg goo, crepes that refuse to un-adhere themselves from the pan, and Boeuf Bourguignon that burns to a crisp when Julie passes out from one too many gimlets. We sort of love her for all the failures and find them completely understandable and forgivable. We cheer her on to try again; and we’re elated with each culinary victory.
On her current blog, Powell herself warns her book may offend some for two reasons: 1) Her coarseness, and 2) Her belief that all Republicans are ignorant and evil. I agree and, unfortunately, both of the above detract significantly from the story. I found myself wanting to breeze through certain bits to get back to the story. She rambles extensively about her friends, whose moral compass is pretty much whatever feels good. The depictions of one friend’s torrid affair with a married man, another who goes through boyfriends like water, combined with Powell’s propensity to look for some way to shock at every turn only detract from the story versus adding anything to it.
The better story is the married romance (an unusual and even brave topic) of Julie and Eric, living a rather unglamorous life, and, against all odds, making it work—even in Queens. By focusing too often on the lurid, the story loses focus from all that Julie is learning about commitment and seeing things through and creating magnificence in the midst of the mundane. Instead, numerous portions of the book seem to scream, “Look how liberated I am. I can talk about steamy sex, I can swear like a sailor, and I hate Republicans. Damn! I’m cool!”
Readers are willing to embrace a writer’s depictions of human foibles and character flaws. We get that. It is more difficult when the writer becomes so “in your face” that we find ourselves wanting to say to the writer, “Ahem…terribly sorry, but you’re standing just in front of the story. Would you mind stepping aside?”
Clearly, a key ingredient is missing in Powell’s writing: Graciousness. It is one lesson she has yet to learn from her guide and mentor, Julia Child. Perhaps, in time, she will.
Julie Powell is funny, intelligent, remarkably adept at turning a phrase, and clearly ill-suited for cubicle work! We all cheered her on and found genuine excitement in her personal challenge and in her frustrating but hilarious journey to victory. So our message is this: We’re with you. You are a writer! You don’t need to shock us (or bash us over the heads) to join you. We’re already here, eager to hear your story. So stick with the story. We’ll be back to cheer you on.
The story, when not obscured, is highly entertaining. The descriptions of the shopping trips alone were fascinating, leaving would-be gourmets nodding their heads and wondering, “Where DO you find beef suet? And what is beef suet anyway?” Anyone with a love for culinary adventures is automatically on Julie’s side, cheering her on, especially if, like Julie you may not even own decent knife—much less a gourmet kitchen. We want her, like Cinderella, to escape the cubicle and arrive in time for the grand ball (which in this case is a kitchen—so the analogy breaks down a little, but you get the point).
Powell is also charmingly honest about her own failures. We feel her pain through grey, gloppy sweetbreads, failed poach-egg goo, crepes that refuse to un-adhere themselves from the pan, and Boeuf Bourguignon that burns to a crisp when Julie passes out from one too many gimlets. We sort of love her for all the failures and find them completely understandable and forgivable. We cheer her on to try again; and we’re elated with each culinary victory.
On her current blog, Powell herself warns her book may offend some for two reasons: 1) Her coarseness, and 2) Her belief that all Republicans are ignorant and evil. I agree and, unfortunately, both of the above detract significantly from the story. I found myself wanting to breeze through certain bits to get back to the story. She rambles extensively about her friends, whose moral compass is pretty much whatever feels good. The depictions of one friend’s torrid affair with a married man, another who goes through boyfriends like water, combined with Powell’s propensity to look for some way to shock at every turn only detract from the story versus adding anything to it.
The better story is the married romance (an unusual and even brave topic) of Julie and Eric, living a rather unglamorous life, and, against all odds, making it work—even in Queens. By focusing too often on the lurid, the story loses focus from all that Julie is learning about commitment and seeing things through and creating magnificence in the midst of the mundane. Instead, numerous portions of the book seem to scream, “Look how liberated I am. I can talk about steamy sex, I can swear like a sailor, and I hate Republicans. Damn! I’m cool!”
Readers are willing to embrace a writer’s depictions of human foibles and character flaws. We get that. It is more difficult when the writer becomes so “in your face” that we find ourselves wanting to say to the writer, “Ahem…terribly sorry, but you’re standing just in front of the story. Would you mind stepping aside?”
Clearly, a key ingredient is missing in Powell’s writing: Graciousness. It is one lesson she has yet to learn from her guide and mentor, Julia Child. Perhaps, in time, she will.
Julie Powell is funny, intelligent, remarkably adept at turning a phrase, and clearly ill-suited for cubicle work! We all cheered her on and found genuine excitement in her personal challenge and in her frustrating but hilarious journey to victory. So our message is this: We’re with you. You are a writer! You don’t need to shock us (or bash us over the heads) to join you. We’re already here, eager to hear your story. So stick with the story. We’ll be back to cheer you on.
5/10/09
In My Mother's House
In my mother's house, there were few strangers and always room for one more. Every Saturday morning was cleaning day, and Sunday morning (& Sunday night and Wednesday night) was church, no matter how tired you were or what a devil you had been.
My mother's house was all about sitting up straight, cleaning your plate, and learning to act like a lady. (You ARE going to wear a slip with that, right?) My mother's house was cornbread, butter beans, and salmon patties--the poor man's crab cake. It was sweet tea and minding your manners, please and thank you, and don't tell your grandmother I let you get your ears pierced. It was also Dottie Rambo, the Speer Family, Bill and Gloria Gaither, and Mull's Singing Convention. My mother never cussed, but she was known to s-p-e-l-l a cuss word once in a while. Somehow that didn't count.
My mother's house smelled of Pine Sol on Saturday and Pot Roast on Sunday. My mother's house was a place where we were likely to linger over a dinner table for hours while Mama and her friends told one story after another. They were long stories, so you figured "might as well get comfortable" while they went "all the way around their elbow to get to their wrist," as she says. But in Mama's house, you learned to appreciate the beauty of a tale well told.
My mother's house was about being there for others, walking with them through their joys and sorrows. It was about not being "ugly" to others but learning to look for the best.
My mother's house was the place where I was trained to understand: This is what love looks like. It is the place where I saw a model of a life devoted to God and to family. In her house, I know that even though I drive my mother crazy because we are so different, she loves me just as I am. And in her house, I learned to believe that I could accomplish anything with faith in God, with belief in His ability to work in and through me, and with the love and support of family.
What a gift. Thank you is not enough, but it is the least I can say. I love you, Mama. Happy Mother's Day!
My mother's house was all about sitting up straight, cleaning your plate, and learning to act like a lady. (You ARE going to wear a slip with that, right?) My mother's house was cornbread, butter beans, and salmon patties--the poor man's crab cake. It was sweet tea and minding your manners, please and thank you, and don't tell your grandmother I let you get your ears pierced. It was also Dottie Rambo, the Speer Family, Bill and Gloria Gaither, and Mull's Singing Convention. My mother never cussed, but she was known to s-p-e-l-l a cuss word once in a while. Somehow that didn't count.
My mother's house smelled of Pine Sol on Saturday and Pot Roast on Sunday. My mother's house was a place where we were likely to linger over a dinner table for hours while Mama and her friends told one story after another. They were long stories, so you figured "might as well get comfortable" while they went "all the way around their elbow to get to their wrist," as she says. But in Mama's house, you learned to appreciate the beauty of a tale well told.
My mother's house was about being there for others, walking with them through their joys and sorrows. It was about not being "ugly" to others but learning to look for the best.
My mother's house was the place where I was trained to understand: This is what love looks like. It is the place where I saw a model of a life devoted to God and to family. In her house, I know that even though I drive my mother crazy because we are so different, she loves me just as I am. And in her house, I learned to believe that I could accomplish anything with faith in God, with belief in His ability to work in and through me, and with the love and support of family.
What a gift. Thank you is not enough, but it is the least I can say. I love you, Mama. Happy Mother's Day!
5/7/09
Do it Scared
Linda is my hero.
She is a self-confessed 'fraidy cat! She plays the violin but is terrified to play for anyone but her plants. She is one of the funniest people I know, but she's petrified of speaking in front of a crowd. She has visions of saving the world, but she's happiest working in her studio where she paints and does pottery.
Linda is afraid of everything.
But she is not afraid to face down fear. A few years ago, she picked up her violin and determined to use her gifts anyway. She was visibly a nervous wreck the first few times she played. Her remedy? "Play harder!"
She has the audacity to call herself an artist and actually put her work out there for the whole world to see and critique. Though she's an introvert at heart, she went to every charity in town that our church supports to find out what they specifically need so that we can better support them.
How does she do it? Linda has a brilliant motto: DO IT SCARED.
She decided that if fear was always going to be a battle, she would just do it anyway and do it scared--whatever IT is.
I love that.
DO IT SCARED.
Is there something you need to "do scared" today? I have a whole list! Time to get started...
P.S. You can view Linda's beautiful artwork and pottery at www.lindakasun.com.
She is a self-confessed 'fraidy cat! She plays the violin but is terrified to play for anyone but her plants. She is one of the funniest people I know, but she's petrified of speaking in front of a crowd. She has visions of saving the world, but she's happiest working in her studio where she paints and does pottery.
Linda is afraid of everything.
But she is not afraid to face down fear. A few years ago, she picked up her violin and determined to use her gifts anyway. She was visibly a nervous wreck the first few times she played. Her remedy? "Play harder!"
She has the audacity to call herself an artist and actually put her work out there for the whole world to see and critique. Though she's an introvert at heart, she went to every charity in town that our church supports to find out what they specifically need so that we can better support them.
How does she do it? Linda has a brilliant motto: DO IT SCARED.
She decided that if fear was always going to be a battle, she would just do it anyway and do it scared--whatever IT is.
I love that.
DO IT SCARED.
Is there something you need to "do scared" today? I have a whole list! Time to get started...
P.S. You can view Linda's beautiful artwork and pottery at www.lindakasun.com.
5/1/09
The Sound of Childhood
My friend Harriett sent me a link to this video this morning. It is brilliant. It's a normal day in the central train station of Antwerp, Belgium. Suddenly, over the station's loudspeakers comes the sweet voice of Julie Andrews singing, "Doe, a deer, a female deer...Ray, a drop of golden sun..."
Watch this and prepare for big smiles. (Actually, I cried a little too!)
THE SOUND OF MUSIC IN CENTRAL STATION, ANTWERP, BELGIUM.
Watch this and prepare for big smiles. (Actually, I cried a little too!)
THE SOUND OF MUSIC IN CENTRAL STATION, ANTWERP, BELGIUM.
4/11/09
Great News--Your Debts are Cancelled
What are you owed?
It is so hard to forgive when you've been genuinely wronged. Especially if the wrong was personal.
Of course, it would be so much easier to make amends if "so and so" would just admit what a jerk he is! A little groveling at our feet wouldn't hurt either. After all, the offender owes us at least that much, right?
In truth, there are times when offenses against us genuinely merit retribution of some sort. An apology. A financial settlement. A show of proper gratitude.
Last night, as I sat in a Good Friday service at my church, it dawned on me that if anyone deserves to be offended, to demand apologies and payback..then surely it is a pure and loving God. But if God reached beyond his offense and sought us out "while we were yet sinners," to draw us back to himself, can I do less?*
What if God went further? What if he declared to all mankind for all time: "My only Son--my very heart--took your debt on himself, paying it fully with his life. I exchanged your life for His. Your debt is hereby canceled."
"Now, come back to me. Come back to your heavenly Father, and live in eternal friendship with me--and with my Son who took your place."
What if God said that?
How can I...How can we, then, look at what someone "owes" us and say, "It's not enough. I won't be satisfied--I won't budge until this debt is paid." Christ paid our debt--and the debt that others owe to us--in order to reconcile us to himself, to our heavenly Father, and to one another.
I can do no less.
*Romans 5:8 "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
Matthew 18:21-35
It is so hard to forgive when you've been genuinely wronged. Especially if the wrong was personal.
Of course, it would be so much easier to make amends if "so and so" would just admit what a jerk he is! A little groveling at our feet wouldn't hurt either. After all, the offender owes us at least that much, right?
In truth, there are times when offenses against us genuinely merit retribution of some sort. An apology. A financial settlement. A show of proper gratitude.
Last night, as I sat in a Good Friday service at my church, it dawned on me that if anyone deserves to be offended, to demand apologies and payback..then surely it is a pure and loving God. But if God reached beyond his offense and sought us out "while we were yet sinners," to draw us back to himself, can I do less?*
What if God went further? What if he declared to all mankind for all time: "My only Son--my very heart--took your debt on himself, paying it fully with his life. I exchanged your life for His. Your debt is hereby canceled."
"Now, come back to me. Come back to your heavenly Father, and live in eternal friendship with me--and with my Son who took your place."
What if God said that?
How can I...How can we, then, look at what someone "owes" us and say, "It's not enough. I won't be satisfied--I won't budge until this debt is paid." Christ paid our debt--and the debt that others owe to us--in order to reconcile us to himself, to our heavenly Father, and to one another.
I can do no less.
*Romans 5:8 "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
Matthew 18:21-35
3/25/09
What's Your Passion
Over the last six years or so, my reading focused decidedly on leadership and “strength finding.” Leadership is a hot topic. Ask anyone in the business world. It has become a whole industry. Just as popular are books about finding and using your strengths in order to work within your "sweet spot." Books like Good to Great, The Tipping Point, The Dip, and the Strengths Finder series have made swamis out of people like Jim Collins, Malcolm Gladwell, Seth Godin, and Marcus Buckingham. I learned a lot from these books and found them fascinating. Yet, amazingly, we are now in the midst of a season where the dirth of leadership could not be more obvious, and despite attempts to move people to work from a place of passion and service, it seems we are more self-centered than ever.
What is the disconnect? I'm not sure I know. But I do know this. After a little time and distance from these books, I'm discovering one significant missing piece. In a wonderful book called When People are Big and God is Small, author and professional counselor Ed Welch focuses on this passage from 2 Corinthians:
This understanding of ourselves as servants of God is practically a foreign concept, perhaps especially in the United States where the "pursuit of happiness" is seen as a right to be fought for to the death--even when we trample others to do so! In truth, our purpose is not about pursuing happiness but about pursuing God--to love him with heart, soul, mind, and spirit, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Obviously, I love to write. But when people ask me, "What do you want to write?" I'm stumped. I don't have an idea for a great novel. And blank paper freaks me out! But I know this--whether I'm writing the next great character novel like A Prayer for Owen Meaney or writing content for a website, my purpose is to find ways to allow the glory of God to spill over into the pages and into every relationship with every reader, client, or co-worker. When I believe that my purpose and passion are to love God and bear his image through love for others, it plays out in everything I do. And it matters not whether I am using my strengths to lead as a communicator, marketer, and writer--or operating from a point of weakness (bookkeeping!) where I must lean wholly on God to make it through. As Welch says, "Ultimately, the awesome responsibility and glorious privilege of image-bearing is expressed in simple acts of obedience that have eternal implications."
What is the disconnect? I'm not sure I know. But I do know this. After a little time and distance from these books, I'm discovering one significant missing piece. In a wonderful book called When People are Big and God is Small, author and professional counselor Ed Welch focuses on this passage from 2 Corinthians:
"And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."Welch goes on to write
This means that the essence of imaging God is to rejoice in God's presence, to love him above all else, and to live for his glory, not our own. The most basic question of human existence becomes "How can I bring glory to God?"--not "How will God meet my psychological longings?"By extension, we might add that the basic question is also not, "How can other people or my work meet my psychological longings?"
This understanding of ourselves as servants of God is practically a foreign concept, perhaps especially in the United States where the "pursuit of happiness" is seen as a right to be fought for to the death--even when we trample others to do so! In truth, our purpose is not about pursuing happiness but about pursuing God--to love him with heart, soul, mind, and spirit, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Obviously, I love to write. But when people ask me, "What do you want to write?" I'm stumped. I don't have an idea for a great novel. And blank paper freaks me out! But I know this--whether I'm writing the next great character novel like A Prayer for Owen Meaney or writing content for a website, my purpose is to find ways to allow the glory of God to spill over into the pages and into every relationship with every reader, client, or co-worker. When I believe that my purpose and passion are to love God and bear his image through love for others, it plays out in everything I do. And it matters not whether I am using my strengths to lead as a communicator, marketer, and writer--or operating from a point of weakness (bookkeeping!) where I must lean wholly on God to make it through. As Welch says, "Ultimately, the awesome responsibility and glorious privilege of image-bearing is expressed in simple acts of obedience that have eternal implications."
1/29/09
The Things that Remain
The downward slide of the global economy continues to result in sobering and alarming headlines. The horrifying story yesterday of the man who took the lives of his five children, his wife, and himself after losing his job leaves us all speechless.
When I taught high school, I used to read a book with my students called Alas, Babylon! The premise was a nuclear attack that took out a number of major military bases in Florida, which, at the time the book was written, included Jacksonville, Orlando, Pensacola, and Tampa. The story focused on the survivors in the north central area of Florida who were instantly transported to primitive living. Suddenly, an entirely new value was place on things formerly ignored or easily discarded like books, rowboats, bicycles, salt, or even rain. The discovery of an old Victrola and the accompanying records was a luxury beyond belief. Much had been lost, but the best things, the things that mattered—like family, friends, and community—remained and were, ironically, strengthened.
Today, a friend who works at a coffee shop, said that one of her customers came in with the worries of the day's headlines weighing heavily on her. “What are we going to do?” she asked. My friend replied, “I guess we’re just going to have to help each other out more.”
Indeed. The age of greed and rampant consumerism is dead.
We also cannot anchor our hope in careers or governments or even in hope itself. We must, instead, anchor our hope in the things that remain when everything else is stripped away.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13
When I taught high school, I used to read a book with my students called Alas, Babylon! The premise was a nuclear attack that took out a number of major military bases in Florida, which, at the time the book was written, included Jacksonville, Orlando, Pensacola, and Tampa. The story focused on the survivors in the north central area of Florida who were instantly transported to primitive living. Suddenly, an entirely new value was place on things formerly ignored or easily discarded like books, rowboats, bicycles, salt, or even rain. The discovery of an old Victrola and the accompanying records was a luxury beyond belief. Much had been lost, but the best things, the things that mattered—like family, friends, and community—remained and were, ironically, strengthened.
Today, a friend who works at a coffee shop, said that one of her customers came in with the worries of the day's headlines weighing heavily on her. “What are we going to do?” she asked. My friend replied, “I guess we’re just going to have to help each other out more.”
Indeed. The age of greed and rampant consumerism is dead.
We also cannot anchor our hope in careers or governments or even in hope itself. We must, instead, anchor our hope in the things that remain when everything else is stripped away.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13
1/26/09
Useless Beauty?
Do you ever wonder about the point of beauty? I mean, why do we need beauty, really? If life is only about survival of the fittest, beauty has no purpose. It’s useless to survival, but we long for beauty and will go to extraordinary lengths to have it.We don't desire simply to eat. We want to dine—else we would never have invented wine, or chocolate, or a million varieties of cheese or beautifully appointed tables with bright cloths and candles. We need clothing, but we don't just cover ourselves with hay or animal skins. We weave delicate silks or hand woven wools. We employ intricate dyes with rich colors, beads, embroidery, and other fine stitching. We don’t just clothe ourselves. We adorn ourselves. In our homes, we might spend hours choosing just the right paint color for the bathroom walls! Why?
Even in the most primitive cultures, I suspect there is still a compulsion to add some element of beauty to daily living, whether a handful of wildflowers, a dance, a song sung around a fire, or even a tattoo! We yearn not only to surround ourselves with beauty but also to create it. The world is filled with evidence of this fact. Think Taj Mahal, Alhambra, or the Louvre.
Our basic needs for food, clothing or shelter are surpassed by an even greater need—the need to feed our souls. If a mother were only meant to feed her child for survival purposes, dinnertime would be quite a different thing. Why instead do millions of mothers waste time setting a dinner table or creating a special atmosphere for a holiday? Why, indeed, would anyone take the time to write music, fashion a piece of pottery, plant a garden, or even get a haircut?
We find joy in beauty. Keats said, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Can we also find truth in beauty? Keats thought so. He also wrote, “'Beauty is truth, truth beauty, —that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'” Keats was on to something, but maybe we do need to know more. Maybe we need to know the origination and purpose of beauty.
Edward Welch’s book When People are Big and God is Small has an interesting passage that I believe provides a clue. Welch notes how life itself provides pictures for us of who God is and what he is like. Scriptures say that God is a loving bridegroom, a redeemer, a feast giver, a judge and advocate, a father, mother, obedient son, suffering servant, friend, shepherd, potter, physician. We relate to these titles because we have known fathers, judges, physicians, and the like. The book goes on to say,
These concrete “snapshots” that God gives us of himself are not just God’s way of accommodating himself to human language. God isn’t using our understanding of servants to suggest that he is like a servant. No, God is the servant, the husband, the father, the brother, and the friend. Anything in the created world that bears a resemblance to these descriptions of God is simply God’s glory spilling into creation and into creatures. Whenever you see these albeit distorted images in other people, they are a faint reflection of the original.God’s glory—spilling over into creation and into creatures. Is it possible that we are drawn to beauty because beauty is part of God’s glory. Indeed, if Welch is right, God is Beauty, and the beauty I see here is but a faint reflection of the original. So when I am touched by the best in human relationships, by the forgiveness of a father to his son, or by a woman lovingly caring for her elderly mother—any such tender pictures of love, forgiveness, and affection, I am touched because I see glimpses there of God’s glory. Likewise, when I am awed by the beauty of a glorious sunset, a breathtaking aria, or of the magnificent art and craft as seen in a place like Notre Dame, there too, I am seeing but vague hints of God’s glory—and it sets my soul on fire.
Copyright © L. Kay Johnson, 2009. All Rights Reserved
1/20/09
Wishing Him Well: Why this McCain Supporter is Supporting Obama Today
I did not vote for Barak Obama. Nothing personal. I liked him. I kind of wanted to vote for him. I just didn’t agree with enough of his ideas to do so.But today I find myself eager to support his presidency. No major mind shift of ideas on my part, but the time for arguing ideas and casting votes is past, and the time to give this man a chance has arrived, and this requires our support. The peaceful transition of power and willingness on the part of all Americans, even those who voted for “the other guy,” is what makes this country so remarkable.
I still admire John McCain and credit him for the wisdom and honor he demonstrated by not dragging the election on, thus risking a devastating rift from which we may not have recovered. He respected the vote of the American people and exhibited leadership in ending the election, and that’s just what I respect about him.
However, like McCain, I now pledge my support to Obama as our president and wish him well. True, I wish him well for some selfish reasons—don’t we all? I want our country to continue to be safe. I want our economy to recover and thrive.
But I also wish him well for other reasons. His leadership has meaning and implications for the African American community I may never understand. One commentator said that most of us can’t know what it means to his community to see a black man as president, a man who loves his wife, is faithful to her and to his children, and who gives back to his community. I was struck by the fact that he didn’t mention Obama’s Harvard degree, his leadership in Chicago, his meteoric rise to power. No—he was touched by the model Obama provides as a faithful husband and father. For this too, I wish Obama well.
Like many Americans, I too feel a sense of celebration and wonder in seeing the dream of Martin Luther King and of so many others realized. I know that for my African American friends, there is something powerful in the very idea that a black man could occupy the White House. For this also, I wish Obama well.
At the same time, I have African American friends who did not vote for Obama. Remarkably, they also judged him on the merits of his ideas rather than the color of his skin. Even if their vote was a negative, this too was part of King’s dream—each person voting his or her conscience, regardless of color.
I also wish Obama well because I am concerned for him. How can anyone live up to the expectations and hope so many have placed in him? It’s impossible. He will disappoint some, while others will support him no matter what. The first option presents a challenge to Obama. The second is a challenge to us all. My hope is that we will be fair both in our praise and our criticism. Pray for him. Support him wherever we can. Oppose him respectfully when we must.
I wish Obama well, too, because I know I’m human. Could I be wrong on some of my political ideas? Sure. Could he be wrong? Of course. No one gets it right all the time. So we must keep a humble view and pray for the best in one another. Barak and Michelle Obama seem sincere in their desire to make a difference. My prayer is that God will fan the fire of that desire into a blaze so that nothing can cloud it—not the criticisms, nor the adulation. I will pray that amidst the noise of both, Obama will be able to still hear that “still, small voice” that directs him and, indeed, directs us all.
1/7/09
You Complete Me
Ladies, how often do you second guess yourself? I think women are much worse about this than men. My negative self talk goes something like this, "What do you think you are doing? You have no business telling people how to market. You're not an expert. Who do you think you are?"Why do we do this to ourselves?
The other day, though, I was meeting with a client who kind of intimidates me because he's so smart (way smarter than me--I admit it!). And I had this weird experience. It was like I could still see myself and this client having a conversation, but at that moment, I heard another voice, and I was suddenly part of second conversation. That voice said something like this: "Don't be overly impressed by this guy. You have everything you need for whatever I ask you to do."
"Really? Everything?"
"Everything. If you have me, you have everything."
"You mean..."
"I mean everything...all the time, wisdom, insight, skills, and resources that you need. Everything."
"Oh....ok....I'm good to go then?"
"You're good to go."
Wow.
As a Christian, I believe that God lives in and through me. And if I really believe that, then I must also believe he has equipped me for whatever he leads me to do. The trick is to listen for the leading. If I allow myself to tune in and be guided by him, I can't go wrong--both for myself and for my clients. I will look for their highest good, and I will know how to achieve it.
There's a passage in Scripture that reads, "You are complete in Him." (Colossians 2:8-10). (And you thought that was from Jerry Maguire!) In a world where we sometimes feel inadequate or not quite up to the task, I find this very comforting indeed.
"Really? Everything?"
"Everything. If you have me, you have everything."
"You mean..."
"I mean everything...all the time, wisdom, insight, skills, and resources that you need. Everything."
"Oh....ok....I'm good to go then?"
"You're good to go."
Wow.
As a Christian, I believe that God lives in and through me. And if I really believe that, then I must also believe he has equipped me for whatever he leads me to do. The trick is to listen for the leading. If I allow myself to tune in and be guided by him, I can't go wrong--both for myself and for my clients. I will look for their highest good, and I will know how to achieve it.
There's a passage in Scripture that reads, "You are complete in Him." (Colossians 2:8-10). (And you thought that was from Jerry Maguire!) In a world where we sometimes feel inadequate or not quite up to the task, I find this very comforting indeed.
I meet weekly with a small group of women here in Sarasota. We have a great time together: food (of course--usually involving copious amounts of chocolate), giggles, roaring laugter, major sidebars and rabbit trails, and eventually we study some aspect of Scripture together. Connie, our fabulous facilitator, tell us it's like herding cats, but we have a good time anyway. We are currently studying Colossians, and I've created a blog to go with the study. If you are interested, you can access it at www.livingthefulness.blogspot.com.
1/6/09
Missed Moments
Okay, I'm not a movie reviewer, but it just so happens that this post, like the last one, is inspired by a movie. I went to see Valkyrie recently. Whatever you think of the film itself is not the topic of this post. The story is incredibly compelling. It centers on what was probably the most famous failed attempt on Hitler's life by some of his own top military leaders and advisers. It makes for fascinating drama to watch these people who were desperate to wrest their country from Hitler's insanity and certain destruction, to salvage whatever they could for Germany. The movie does a good job of portraying the agonizing question that such a dilemma would pose for anyone: At what point is such rebellion and treason an act of honor?
However, the thing that struck me most was the thunderous impact of silence and inaction. There were several moments in this story where history would have changed significantly had a small handful of people or, at times, even just one person acted. Hundreds of thousands of lives might have been saved. It is a staggering indictment of fear and profound illustration of the destruction our sins of omission can cause. The Book of Common Prayer general confession reads, "Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone." This film is a perfect picture of what it looks like when we leave undone those things that require courageous action.
In one scene, for example, a commander of a communications post has a choice, by continuing to send messages, to aid those attempting to overthrow Hitler--or he can send through the counter commands coming from Hitler's command post. At that moment, the power lies with him as to which communiques will be considered legitimate. He hesitates and then chooses the "safe route," siding with Hitler. Had he chosen otherwise, it is quite likely the coup would have succeeded. I'm not sure of the historical accuracy of this particular scene, but the scene was a great illustration of the difference--for good or evil--that one soul makes. I recommend the film if for no other reason than to see this point depicted in such frightening terms.
By the way, the official site for the film provides some good visual time-lines and background on all of the players in the conspiracy against Hitler. For teachers, it could be a compelling starting point to explore the topic further or to introduce primary research.
However, the thing that struck me most was the thunderous impact of silence and inaction. There were several moments in this story where history would have changed significantly had a small handful of people or, at times, even just one person acted. Hundreds of thousands of lives might have been saved. It is a staggering indictment of fear and profound illustration of the destruction our sins of omission can cause. The Book of Common Prayer general confession reads, "Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone." This film is a perfect picture of what it looks like when we leave undone those things that require courageous action.
In one scene, for example, a commander of a communications post has a choice, by continuing to send messages, to aid those attempting to overthrow Hitler--or he can send through the counter commands coming from Hitler's command post. At that moment, the power lies with him as to which communiques will be considered legitimate. He hesitates and then chooses the "safe route," siding with Hitler. Had he chosen otherwise, it is quite likely the coup would have succeeded. I'm not sure of the historical accuracy of this particular scene, but the scene was a great illustration of the difference--for good or evil--that one soul makes. I recommend the film if for no other reason than to see this point depicted in such frightening terms.
By the way, the official site for the film provides some good visual time-lines and background on all of the players in the conspiracy against Hitler. For teachers, it could be a compelling starting point to explore the topic further or to introduce primary research.
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