Savoring

My dear wife is now in love with Pinterest.  I am still trying to spell it without having to look it up.  But, there was a neat idea there that she ran across this week: take a jar, and every time something happens that seems memorable, write it down and put it in the jar.  Then, at the end of the year, pour out the jar and savor all the stories on those scraps of paper.  I love this idea because I suspect that many of the things that we think at the time will be memorable will, in fact, normally get lost over time.  Writing them like that will preserve them, and they will bring fresh joy when you take time to reclaim them at the end of the year.

Like this story from yesterday: Zach loves Baby Einstein things – he loves the music, he loves playing with the hand puppets, he loves to carry around as many board books as he can so he can sit and read them when he wants.  But sometimes, he gets his facts a little messed up. Last night we were all riding in the car, and suddenly, in his sing-songy voice, Zach says “Baby Einstein: Who loves in the pond”.  We vaguely recognized this from one of the videos, but were also fairly sure that they actually say “who lives in the pond.”  So, I said, “Hey Zach, it’s who lives in the pond.”  “Baby Einstein: Who loves in the pond,” came back the reply, which caused Josh to break out into giggles.  Josh then tried the correction next, but Zach was still insistent that it is “who loves in the pond.”  These attempts to get Zach to change his tune went on and on, and each time, Zach responded with a steady, peaceful “Baby Einstein: Who loves in the pond.”  Eventually we quit trying, mainly because everyone was laughing too hard to talk.

Zach: 1, Everyone else: 0.

Getting Back Behind the Wheel

I have only had two accidents with cars in my life.  The first one completely totaled my beautiful 1965 Mustang; it was not driveable after that, and got sold for scrap.  The second one was actually a minor car versus deer situation: a deer came up out of a field, side-swiped my Dodge Neon, and then sprung back into the corn.  The car was driveable, and in fact only had minor damage – a hoof print in the back door and a battered rear-view mirror.  But after that accident, the car didn’t feel right to me for a long time.  I felt like it drove different, but not in a way that I could identify or get checked out.  It went for several more years (until I sold it to a young friend who, if I understand correctly, did significantly more damage to it – Hi, Ben Jordan!), so it was clearly fine.  But it felt tainted.

I’m having that same feeling at this very moment.  Sitting at my laptop keyboard.  My system froze up in a mysterious and unresolvable way last weekend, and eventually the Geeks told me that there was nothing left to do but collect my data in Safe Mode and do a complete restore – wipe the drive and start fresh.  Which is all well and good…the system started up again, which was an improvement, and everything seems to be re-loading without incident.  But what is with the check-boxes next to all the file folders and files when I go looking for something?  That wasn’t part of my Windows 7 experience before, and I don’t want it to be now, but there it is. Everything’s fine, I guess; it just feels…different.

Shepherds and Angels

Today is the third day of Christmas.

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.
(Luke 2:8-9 ESV)

I am a small-church kind of guy; not that I am against large churches, but rather that small expressions of Christian community are especially compelling to me: personal-sized groups of Christians strengthening each other, building each other up, sharing life together.  So, the verses above are the sort that catch my attention.  God comes to the world in a humble way, born human to a modest family, announced to a group of insignificant shepherds – all of it God breaking into the world in a small way.  That’s what I tend to notice most.

But then, I was reminded this morning of what comes next:

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:13-14 ESV)

God breaks into the world in a small way, but also comes with a multitude of angels, a heavenly army singing his praises.  A large number, a massive chorus of praise.

God comes in a small way and in a large way at the same time.  Small expressions of praise and faith and joy, and massive ones, side by side.  It occurs to me that this is another way of seeing God’s immanence and transcendence: God is personally present with his people, and more vast than the entire physical world.  God is both small and big, a baby in a manger and a King who holds everything in his hand.  And our praise of him is appropriately expressed in ways small and personal and humble, and in ways as big and vast and grand as we can possibly muster.

Taken For a Ride

Earlier this evening, I took a prescription in to the pharmacy. After standing in line for an unusual amount of time, I started to pay attention to the customer in line in front of me. Specifically, I began to tune in to his non-stop monologue to the pharmacy technician, because I heard him mention “my pastor”, and something about it sounded familiar. It only took about 15 seconds to realize that this man had been in my office two weeks ago weaving a story about the hopelessness of his situation, and how he longed to get down to Southern Illinois where he aunt had offered him a place to live – if only he had the money for gas to get there. I won’t tell you the rest of his story, but I will tell you that I had fallen for it: I took him to the gas station and got him a gas card so that he could fill the tank on his way south. Now, here he was, telling the technician (whose face betrayed how tired she was of hearing the Neverending Story) how “his Pastor” had gotten him this gift card, and told him to buy what he needed to, but that above all he needed to get gas for his car, but he was going to get this prescription first, and he’d find another way to get gas for his car. When he finished his story, he turned around and ran right into me – and gave no evidence that he recognized me.
So, what have I been feeling? Irritated that I got taken. Even more so because I use the fund I have access to for emergency help situations, and it never has enough money to help all the people who come to us. I know that I am capable of being tricked, but I’d rather not think about it too much. Eventually, I got angry, because I felt like a fool. This guy’s act was so obviously contrived here in the store; why wasn’t it more obvious in my office? But where I finally ended up was sad. Here’s a guy who lives a lie: he’s clearly made a side job of duping churches and other people. I’m not sure what has to happen to a guy like that to actually see God for the generous giver he is.
Of course, the answer is: only grace.

Christopher Hitchens

Christopher Hitchens died yesterday, at age 62.  He was a writer of considerable skill, and had become one of the public faces of New Atheism.  I just read a comment on his life which quoted a speech he gave in October at the annual Atheist Alliance of America convention in Houston.  The point was that Hitchens clung fiercely to his denial of God right to the end:

“We have the same job we always had: to say that there are no final solutions; there is no absolute truth; there is no supreme leader; there is no totalitarian solution that says if you would just give up your freedom of inquiry, if you would just give up, if you would simply abandon your critical faculties, the world of idiotic bliss can be yours.”

Other than the assertions that there is no absolute truth and there is no supreme being – which someone as smart as Christopher Hitchens had to know he couldn’t prove – I would say the job of the Christian overlaps very much with what Hitchens saw as the job of the atheist.  May we never give up on inviting people into the Kingdom, a place where there is no totalitarian reign, where freedom of inquiry will be rewarded with joyous understanding, where the active embrace of our critical faculties serves the end of knowing God, caring for the world God has given us, and cultivating the beauty within it.  I do see that as bliss, and if it is idiotic, then let me be a holy fool.