"I'll Never..."

I was reading through some old journal entries and contemplating various comments that I and my friends have made. Specifically, I've been thinking about how often we use the phrase "I'll never ....":

I'll never give up caffeine.
I'll never be a vegetarian.
I'll never let myself be poor.
I'll never live in Lansing (or Africa).
I'll never name my child Polly.
I'll never let my child get away with temper-tantrums.
I'll never marry a Christian (or a vegetarian, or anyone named Polly).

I can generate quite a list over the years. Some of my "I'll never" comments I'm very pleased with. They're based on convictions of what I believe is right and good. While I'd like to be open minded to being wrong about my convictions, I definitely hope to remain true to them while I have them - and hope that I don't develop convictions so quickly that I end up changing many of them over the years.

But many of my "I'll never" ideas are based on how I wish life would happen for me. I'd prefer not to be poor. I enjoy eating tasty, juicy barbecued slabs of cow. And I like to control my circumstances. Here's some questions that give me pause when I look at my list of "nevers":

Would I cheerfully follow God to live in Lansing if that was his will? Do I care more about my living situation than serving people where he wants me?

Would I cheerfully give up wheat if my wife or child was deathly allergic to it? Is my enjoyment of food more important to me than my family?

Is wealth more important to me than a loving relationship with my spouse? Will I allow my desire to possess money to put tension between my wife and I?

Is X the only right way to do things?

Is X so important to me that I would let it strain my relationship with my family to make it happen?

Is X so important to me that I wouldn't lay it down if God asked me to?

I have a lot of preferences. I think most of them make a lot of sense. But I really need remember that my preferences are not more important than helping others know God or following God myself.

On Dance

My hypothesis: Some things in life work poorly if done half-heartedly. Salsa dancing, for example. If I'm going to go salsa dancing, it does very little good to go there half-heartedly, sulk in a corner, snidely comment on every topic, and avoid being dragged out on the dance floor. Well, little except ruin the experience for my friends.

The reality of salsa dancing is that going is a commitment to something bigger: To making a fool of myself (no, I don't believe all the good dancing who argue that no one notices or everyone struggles through it - I'm not a big fan of cliche comforts), to being a student of dance, to being cheerfully gracious at being social, and such.

I wonder how much knowing God is like salsa dance. I tend to approach God something like being dragged to salsa dancing when I'm sick and tired. I'm grumpy, resistant, and hard to impress. Honestly, I'm amazed God wants to see me at all when I'm in that mood. I don't think I would.

And yet knowing God is a whole other world. When I explore him instead of sulking in the corner - I'm stunned by who he is. Actually, I'm usually pretty impressed by him even when I'm sulking in my hole at the edge of the club. Knowing God certainly means a large amount of falling down - and asking help from those who know better. How do you pray in private? Why do you pray that way in public? How did God lead you in deciding to date your girlfriend? What do you see in my life that concerns you?

My regular salsa dancing friends are much, much better than I am at dance. But they are still learning, although I often can't even pick up on their errors. But they enjoy the dance. They talk style, technique, and rhythm. And they enthusiastically invite others along. They aren't haughty about their skills, but quick help me along the way. Not a bad model for an attractive relationship with God.

Emotions in Sunlight

Something I read today:

Our hearts respond to life as surely as our skin responds to sunlight. This truth is surely good. Our skin needs sunlight to thrive. Sunlight provides a sense of time to the day. It warms us and encourages us and refreshes us. We feel better in the sunlight - some of us even buy our own light boxes to mimic the sun to avoid seasonal depression.

In the same way, our passions are good for us. They provide meaning to life. Disappointments are not meant to be endured stoically, without a sense of loss, like Spock. Our passions are fundamental to what it means to be human. Great technical accomplishments achieved with machine-like efficiency is not the meaning of life. Life is about knowing - about relating.

Yet at the same time, only a great fool stands naked in the sun for hours at a time. The same rays that give warmth and hope also bring damage, burning our skin and, given enough opportunities, bringing deadly illness. While we may enjoy our day of tanning, we also assure ourselves an older look over the years.

In the same way, we need to learn to guard our hearts. Unshielded, they absorb more than they are meant bringing upon ourselves great pain. We desperately put our hope where it does not belong - and have our hopes dashed. Our hearts become cynical, possessive, fearful, lonely, bitter, jaded, insensitive. In the end, we not only don't feel the warmth of light, but end up burning others.

I don't know what I think of this quote. It reminds of the proverb "Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." I like how it captures the balance between emotional distance which stifles life (and I lean strongly toward) and the danger of unchecked emotion. And being a person who burns incredibly easily, I like the sunlight/skin analogy. But there's something that just seems off about the quote. I'm not quite sure I can put my finger on it though.

The Need for Examples

So lately I've been realizing what a necessity practical living examples are in developing our theology. I'm thinking specifically of spiritual principles. Be holy. Do good deeds. Handle the word of God correctly.

But it's amazing how we can hear and say the same principles and yet have totally different applications.
What does holiness mean when interacting with the opposite sex?
Who are the poor and needy that I should be doing good deeds toward?
What does it look like to be single and content? What ought it to feel like? (What ought it to look and feel like to be in the middle miserable marriage while struggling to honor God?)
What does it mean to live with a forgiving attitude toward the idiot who slashed my tires?

The beauty of real examples is that they enable me to not only apply theology, but to exposes how I tend to twist theological principles to justify evil. And examples tend to expose my desires of what I want verses what God wants.

Of course, these strengths are also why I hate examples. I like being able to hide. Sometimes honesty seems like too high of a price.

Debate!

I found the following quiz on how we tend to argue for/against Christianity to be interesting. Here's my results...

You scored as Evidentialist. You are an evidentialist! Apologetics primarily consists in showing the good reasons one has to believe the claims of Christianity. You consistently confound unbelievers with your knowledge of history, science, and Bayesian computation that you learned from John Warwick Montgomery, Gary Habermas, and Richard Swinburne. Evidentialist 97% Classical Apologist 87% Reformed/Presuppositional Apologist 20% Fideist 7% Atheist 0% What kind of apologist are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Two Links

One on what it means to be Christian example, and the other on pornography. (Both by the same guy.) Hrm, why these two topics? Great question. Remind me to blog one the story behind them sometime. Ok, let's be serious. You aren't going to remember to ask. Just go read the links. :)

What would it take...

So I met a cool friend of a friend the other night - Franchesca*. We ended up talking about baptism, the Holy Spirit, faith, and it takes for God to forgive you. She's thoughtful, knowledgeable, and tactful. We also have fundamental disagreements in our perspectives. She said very little that was new to me - most of it was rehashing of concepts I've heard before.

But the conversation got me thinking: What would she have to say for me to reconsider my perspective? For all of the talk, what would it take for me to actually change my views? Is it simply running into someone who is a brilliant debater who can out think me?

Is it a matter of her ideas making more sense to me than mine? Is it a matter of my liking her ideas better than mine?

As I think about it, here's a few thoughts that leap to mind.
- I want clear practical areas where her ideas work "better" than mine. Ideally I could try her ideas out in my life, but at the very least I'd like to see them lived out in her life.
- I want to understand the derivation: I want to know where these ideas come from and whey they are considered reliable.
- I'm probably a lot more sympathetic in the areas (or times) when my coping strategies are failing miserable. I'm a lot more tempted by alternate belief systems when I'm lonely and miserable.
- I'd like to see her considering and (probably) changing her views over time. It's hard for me to believe that anyone under the age of 60 has it all worked out.

The last point gets me. I tend to shift my perspectives pretty slowly, I think, and I don't tend to be aware of the magnitude of the changes. I rarely wake up one day and "You know what, I think I'm going to kiss dating good-bye." Instead I tend to quietly realize that I'm using my tongue to cut others down way too much and that I need to be much slower to speak.

But perhaps I just don't change me perspective on big issues (forest) much and tend to focus on the trees. Maybe I'm around too many people who more or less agree with me to be consistently challenged with my views. It's easy to think one is right when one isn't in pain. It's hard to think one is right when one's in pain. Except for those of us that love to play the martyr.

Maybe I just need to ask God that this would be my sincere prayer:

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Do I believe that God will change those who want to know him?

(Okay, I admit, names and other details altered. Surprised?)

15 Minutes of Fame

Some famous - and probably white and dead - guy said something like this:

Give me fifteen minutes to talk with a stranger, and I can tell you what he cares about.

I don't remember the exact point, but the gist was that we naturally talk about that which is important to us. One pastor (Piper?) commented that we naturally worship in three ways:

1. We admire: We're stunned to watch Elway through the last minute touch down.
2. We tell others: "You've got to come watch this pass by John Elway."
3. We mimic: We go out and play football in the park.
(I might be wrong about the first item.)

I'm not sure I exactly buy the first quote - I think there's a lot of reasons we don't talk about what we truly love (fear leaps to mind). But the second point catches me: When we love, we naturally talk about our loves. Two guys at work just had children, and a quick query will get them gushing.

I suppose I've been thinking lately about what my conversations naturally revolve around. Am I more excited to talk about the latest computer game, or what God's been doing around me? Am I saddened by the hesitation and fear I feel when God comes up? Or am I secretly encouraged when wisdom dictates a quieter approach?

I suppose there are two reasons I tend to speak of God less enthusiastically than other topics: One is lack of love. The other is fear. Do I love him enough to face and overcome my fears? Do I even want to overcome my fears?

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.

Wise as Serpents, Part 2

This probably does not qualify for wisdom. :(

"You Idiot" & Other Ways to Win an Argument

So I ended up in a discussion recently with a few friends over some passage in scripture. The discussion went something like this:

Me: So I was thinking recently about the passage of Daniel in the Lion's Den.
Friend: I don't recall that passage.

Me: Well, it's where this good guy - Daniel - ends up being thrown to a den of hungry lions and God sends an angel to make sure Daniel doesn't get eaten. Then the bad guys get thrown to the lions and they die. Gory.
Friend: Oh yes, I remember that story. I recall becoming a vegetarian as a result of that passage.

Me: Huh? How so?
Friend: Well, clearly...

Me: What? That's not at all what it means.

(Ok, I think I was quick enough to not actually verbalize that last comment.) But I've been thinking about where my friend is coming from - and not just why I disagree, but whether or not there's a point to disagreement.

It's hard to argue with people who have a totally different paradigm - not just a lack of knowledge - but an actively different worldview. The problem is that simply rehashing the story of Daniel & the Lion's Den a dozen times won't lead my friend or I to different conclusions. And because there's so little common ground, there's no way to prove myself right. And I am right, of course. j/k. I wonder if Paul had this issue in mind when he wrote to Timothy

Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth...

With frightfully ease, I often see winning the argument as being more important than the means used to win the issue. Paul, ironically, while mentioning the need to competently hold one's own, focuses on the issues of the interaction: Kind, not resentful, gentle, hopeful, patient.

I also think we focus way too easily on the visible disagreements - say issue L, for lion's den. But in reality, my friend's view on understanding L is shaped by his beliefs on other topics such as the nature of the Bible, the character of God, the style of God, and such. And those beliefs are further reinforced by our own insecurities, fears, and desires.

A few thoughts on debating respectfully:
Do I really want to know if I am wrong about something? Would I change friends if my friends were bad for me? Would I join a different denomination? Would I live on the street as a beggar if that was God's will? Is David's prayer really my prayer - do I really want God to search me for ways offensive to him?

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Do I care about others knowing God better because of me, or do I care about being right, and others knowing it? Am I grateful when God uses others to bring about changes in my thinking?
Am I content without a wholehearted defense of my position? Would I rather look stupid than put a stumbling block in my friend's mind by the way I defend my point?
Is a issue worth disagreeing about? Does it either directly or through ramification have a significant impact on either my relationship with God or my friend's relationship with God? Are there other more important issues we could be discussing?


Oh yes, the point to disagreement: Beliefs lead to choices. And choices have consequences. And part of loving others is wanting them to make good choices, which means disagreeing at times. It also means learning when - and how - to disagree.

Anarchy for Thought

A friend mentioned this link: http://jesusradicals.org/ to me. I've just skimmed through their intro, but it's an intriguing set of ideas. One sad thing: Their library seems to primarily contain the writings of well-known anarchists. I searched through several of their articles and couldn't find any mention of Jesus. For a group that calls themselves Christian Anarchist, I would have liked to have seen a lot more dealing with Christianity and it's implications. Somehow Christian seems like the more important word of the two.

Of Serpents and Traitors

So I got accused of being the traitor tonight in Shadows over Camelot. Unfairly accused, may I add. In fact, we lost the game because of the accusation. (Shadows is a corroborative game where everyone is on the side of good, except possibly a lone hidden traitor.)

Playing the traitor is something of an art because it requires playing loyally enough not to be discovered as the traitor, but subtly manipulate the progress of the game such that evil wins. Sometimes I associate cunning and treacherous together. And then I associate brave, simple, and good together. Darth Sidious single-handedly conquered an entire Republic and destroyed the Jedi through cunning. Yoda and Obiwan were brave and noble, but not very cunning. (Hrm, I seem to be a StarWars analogy kick.)

Here's a few quotes I'm thinking about tonight. It's worth reading them in context.

The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. - Jesus

Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. - Paul

I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. - Jesus

He [Jesus] went on: "What comes out of a man is what makes him 'unclean.' For from within, out of men's hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, ... and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man 'unclean.' - Jesus

The last one especially catches my attention: The Greek word for 'folly' is afrosune: senselessness, recklessness, thoughtlessness. (No, I don't know Greek. But I read English well here . Essentially, Jesus is calling folly evil.

Am I committed to doing good with my mind? Do I plot good? Do I seek to understand the ways of the Jedi council and how they may be thwarted despite themselves? Or do I simply draw my sword, plunge into battle, and trust that courage and good intentions will save the day? How do I encourage others to think?

This line of thinking scare me because it empowers people, and makes the intentions of our hearts all the more critical. A powerless person can do very little evil (or good), regardless of their intention. A crafty person has enormous power and the use of that power is dependent upon their character. I often prefer to surround myself with helpless people so that I don't need to trust God's work in their lives to restrain them from hurting me.

Interesting Read

This Survey

How To Know You Need Marriage Counseling

Offbeat & Frightening News

Fiddles and Other Seconds

I've been thinking about the difficulty of being a true servant. Not one of the flashy glamorous "servants" like Wesley (The Princess Bride) who turns out to have a heart of gold, be the hero of the story, and goes on to win hand of the beautiful lady. But servants who are second fiddlers.

The trick with playing second char with many instruments is that the first chair (band experience showing through here) gets the best parts - the solos, the hardest to play melodies, and such. The role of the second fiddle is to provide support - to make the first chair look good.

Why don't I like 2nd fiddle? Mostly, I think, because of pride. I like being the center of the universe. And being 2nd fiddle grates on that pride. One can put others first for a while and feel spiritual. But the day in and day out grind of making others look good gets to me if I'm secretly pursuing gratitude or accolades.

I wonder what we think of when we read some of these verses...

I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, that I also may be cheered when I receive news about you. I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare. For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.

"But you are not to be called 'Rabbi,' for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth 'father,' for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called 'teacher,' for you have one Teacher, the Christ. The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

A few thoughts on what it means to be a servant:
- A servant makes those he serves look good.
- A servant doesn't boast about how he makes others look good.
- A servant isn't proud about his preferences - his goal the success of others.
- A servant understands the bigger picture.
- A servant takes initiative.
- A servant is a faithful messenger.

A servant-teacher's goal is the communication and application of life giving ideas, not his own sermon. He uses other people's teachings and techniques eagerly - not to look good, but to be effective. A servant-friend does not cling to relationships, but desires the other to have the best relationships possible. He introduces people, even knowing that his own friendships with others may grow more distant. A servant-planner cares that the plan is solid and well defined, even knowing that others may get the credit for the success.

When I think of a servant, do I think of Luke Skywalker? Or do I think of the brave captain who took Princess Leia to Tantooine and then refused to give any information to Darth Vador?

So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

A, B, C, D or RCT?

Ok, so related to my last post, I've been thinking about an idea I was exposed to as 'Rational Christian Thinking' (RCT). I'm not sure how much of it I recall (ok, probably quite a bit), but the short version was that our emotions are generally a consequence of our beliefs. If I believe the large Doberman pincher is dangerous, I feel fear. If I think the hooded serpent playing with a mongoose is a garden snake, I'm unconcerned (and stupid).

Anyway, I've always thought the concept was very neat in that RCT has often been helpful for figuring out why I feel the way I do, especially when I'm having a strong reaction to something but can't easily identify it. (It's not like this happens to me a lot, of course, being an engineer. Engineers, of course, are very in touch with their inner selves. ;)) I've also found it really cool that as my beliefs change, so does my emotional response to events.

I can't do the entire idea justice in a blog entry, but here's a quick overview. The core idea is that the most visible aspect of our emotion is the demonstratable action (D). And yes, someone was stretching for a mnemonic that could be remembered. Each event is the result of a triggering action (A). It had a cooler name, but I can't remember it. From the triggering action, one constructed the consequential feelings (C), and from the feelings one found the beliefs (B).

For example, I ran away from the dog (D). The triggering event (A) was seeing a large snarling dog weighing approximately 70.3lbs lumbering toward me at a rate of roughly 5mph. The feeling (C) was intense fear. The underlying belief: The the dog was going to attack and hurt me.

The idea is that often our beliefs are not rational to the situation. We read into situations or believe things that aren't true. As we more accurately understand what we actually saw verses what we believed, we can change our beliefs. For example, say I spend the day idle at work getting very little done. The trigger event was my boss ignoring me in the hall when I went into work 15 minutes late. The consequential feeling was nervousness because I believed that my boss was upset with me and will come chew me out. (Why was I so worried because my boss might be upset with me? Because I tend to link self-identity and my accomplishments at work together.)

It's helpful for me to realize that "my boss ignored me" is a belief; a more accurate statement is that "my boss did not greet me" - possibly he ignored me, or didn't see me, or was rushing off to an important meeting. I don't have any direct information about how my boss felt about my arriving at work 15 minutes late.

The other aspect of it is looking at whether or not a belief (such as whether or not my work performance should be so closely linked to my confidence) is biblical, and then looking at how our beliefs change.

Scream! and Other Scary Realities

So I've been thinking about my fears about how life and how they indicate my small view of God. In general, I think the formula to my fears is something like:

If X happens, then I will feel Y, and I don't believe God is big enough to offer Z.

For example, if I get into a car crash, then I will feel ashamed because I'm incompetent, and I don't believe God is big enough to offer comfort.

Or if I say something insultingly stupid to my boss, then I will feel nervous about the consequences, and I don't believe God is big and kind enough to provide for me anyway.

Or if God's nature is that he is sometimes harsh, then I'm scared about him ruling because I don't think he's big enough for me to love him if he's different than I imagine him.

Strange how I'm often more eager to know my image of God than the real one. Then again, I guess idolatry is a pretty old human sin.