Freedommas

In spite of all my Thanksgiving posts, I have actually moved on to the next holiday. I've been enjoying the Christmas songs, secular and sacred alike. All through high school and college, I played Sleigh Bells in the band. The traditional instrumental version that we hear on the radio is the same one we played, and I can still remember the slide positions on my trombone.

I think my favorite song is O Holy Night. My music appreciation professor would say that it has appropriate "fittingness-intensity", i.e., the meaning of the lyrics is reflected in the emotions of the music. Additionally, the words of the song contain the entire gospel. The verses put forth the facts. In verse one, we learn that the world is full of darkness, yearning to be in the light; feeling worthless until Jesus comes. Verse two (which I'd never heard before writing this post) has people gathering to stand by Jesus' cradle. I especially like the last couplet, "King of kings... born to be our friend." Verse three is my favorite. It talks about how the world is transformed now that Jesus has come. The three choruses are what we are to do in response to Jesus coming to earth: Fall on your knees! Behold your King! Christ is the Lord! It's magnificent.

Oh holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine, Oh night when Christ was born;
Oh night, Oh night divine, Oh night Divine.

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,

Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Behold your King.

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.

Verse three is by far my favorite, and the most meaningful. I love the image of Christ coming to break us free. The Bible teaches that we are slaves to whom we obey, and everyone is either a slave to sin or a slave to Christ. The problem is, slaves can't free themselves. O Holy Night declares that Jesus came to earth to break us out of prison. But even better, is how this song proclaims that when we are free from slavery, we follow Christ's law, the law of love. The slave is our brother. That means that under the law of love, we are required to care about people. It doesn't say "the freed slave is our brother", but instructs us to love those who are still in bondage. For Christians, there shouldn't be an "us versus them" mentality. Like Christ, we are to love people so much that if it takes our death for them to be freed, it is a glad sacrifice.

Christ was born so his death could bring us freedom. And that's what Christmas is about.

Thanksgiving Fun - Part 4

The Drunken Turkey

All week long, I heard about the "Drunken Turkey" that J.C. made last year. He uses a lot of alcohol; rum, brandy, and I don't know what else. It was talked about a lot, right along with Aunt Macie's beans.

When Thanksgiving morning came around, I walked in the kitchen and J.C. was preparing the turkey. When he put it in the oven, he used a foil roasting pan and put some sheets of foil on the lower rack to catch any drippings. I remember thinking, he should probably use a cookie sheet or something more firm. But, it was his turkey and I figured he knew what he was doing. J.C. left to serve at the Salvation Army for the afternoon, to return around 4 p.m.

I spent that afternoon playing games with my grandma in the breakfast nook, watching everyone prepare food in the kitchen. Around 3 p.m., people started arriving with their food to contribute. We kept playing, incorporating people as they came and went. I peeked in the oven once or twice, and noticed some smoke, but figured it was just some turkey juice leaking, and J.C. would be home soon.

Four o'clock came and went. Other people were peeking in the oven. More smoke was coming out. Around 4:20 p.m., my dad, along with Uncle Ronnie, decided the turkey had to come out. They opened the oven all the way, and tried to lift out the 23 pound turkey, but the foil pan foiled thier plan; they couldn't get a good grip. Then the fun started.

Trying to lift the turkey let more of the liquid out. Now, keep in mind this is a new gas oven that hadn't been used before. The next thing we know, the liquid has caught on fire! The door is quickly closed and someone yells for a fire extinguisher. Some of us (okay, me) protest that a fire extinguisher will make the turkey inedible. In the midst of all this, the kids (all under 5) run by and dad yells, "Get the kids out of here!" I might have also called for a camera.

The door is opened again and the fire shoots up. Chris says, "Get some baking soda!" I think I kept my mouth shut that time, but I wanted to protest - the Drunken Turkey sounded really good! Since no one knew where the baking soda was, someone ran to the house next door, and still couldn't find any. We finally decided that the best thing to do was keep the door closed and hope the fire suffocated. It worked.

Uncle Nacho came over, saying "People keep running around; what's going on over here?" I think there were 15+ people in the kitchen, standing a safe distance from the oven. All the windows in the house were open, the fans on. The turkey was safely rescued without a bit of burning. It was the oils spilling out of the pan that caused the fire.

J.C. came home not very long after everything settled down. He didn't seem too worried about the turkey, and it ended up being underdone. I guess 5 hours isn't long enough for such a large bird.

Our card game and dinner preparations continued.

Thanksgiving Fun - Part 3

Several times over the week, I watched people respond to my Aunt Laura's loving attitude. People do things for her because she's so nice and sweet. I don't think she realizes that not everyone is like her. This is one of those instances:

The Cable Guy.

When Aunt Laura chose her new TV, she went for a big one. She wanted a 50-some-inch screen, but the TV niche only fit the 47-inch screen. Actually, I think the niche was 48 inches wide and the TV was one of the new high-def plasma screens, 47 3/8 inches wide. It was a tight fit.

On Tuesday, the guy from Dish Network was scheduled to come to the new house and hook up the satellite. I was outside when he was heading in, and I overheard Aunt Laura welcome him. Before he got inside, he learned that his name, Mark, is Aunt Laura's favorite name. That was her son's name, but he died several years ago.

Then Mark came inside and I followed to watch the action.

Mark took one look at the TV and said, "I can't do this job. That's an HDTV and the work order from the satellite company doesn't include that." Apparently, he's a subcontractor and is only authorized/able to do the work the company tells him to do. Mark is a nice man, and calls Dish Network for Aunt Laura. He was on the phone for awhile, and rescheduled the job for her for December 1. Then Laura commented that the three bedrooms need cable.

So Mark told Laura that she needs to make sure the rooms are wired. If her grandson can do it, he can buy the wire at Home Depot and it will save them the $59/hour that Dish Network will charge. Aunt Laura says, "My grandson is a CPA; he hires people to do that sort of thing for me." Then I pipe up.

"If you're a subcontractor," I ask Mark, "can't you do it for less than $59 an hour?" He gave me a sly look, and said that he doesn't take side jobs, but he knows someone he can call.

While he and I are talking, Aunt Laura calls her daughter, Chris/Lil. She's talking to Chris about why Mark can't do the job today and Mark steps outside to call his friend about the wiring. Aunt Laura says, "Oh, he's walking out the door. I don't know where he's going!" Then she hands the phone to me.

Chris tells me to make sure the three rooms get wired for regular TV and the family room for HDTV, and remember to include local and Spanish channels. I repeat everything back to her and think I've got it down.

Mark returns to the room, and says he has a friend who can do the wiring job for $100 cash on Friday night. Aunt Laura says okay.

Mark calls Dish Network back, because the job has changed again; now instead of one HDTV hook-up, we need an additional 3 rooms. Then I tell him about the local and Spanish channels. Aunt Laura talks for a moment about how important her novelas are and she's so grateful I said something. And then she's asked about TIVO.

Sometime during all this, my grandmother came in the room. At the mention of TIVO, she says, "What is that? We don't need that. I have my VCR to record." The rest of us know that they'll use it all the time, so after a few confusing moments of defining TIVO, we get the message to Mark that we want it for the main TV only.

Mark is still on the phone with Dish Network, so Aunt Laura asks about when the old house will be hooked up and transferred to her brother's name. Unfortunately, that information can't be looked up without his phone number. After trying a few different numbers, Aunt Laura says to wait just a minute and walks across the yard to her brother's house. I was washing dishes, listening to Mark tell the satellite people, "I'm just holding the line."

When all was said and done, we got the job rescheduled for December 4, and the wiring for the day after Thanksgiving. Poor Mark. He didn't get paid for this job, and he missed his next job because of the amount of time he spent with us.

All in all, I enjoyed every minute.

Conclusion
On Friday when we returned from an all-day outing, the guys were there wiring the house. Aunt Laura was confused about why they wanted $100 when the TV still didn't work. After figuring it out, she said, "Let me get my checkbook." Of course, they were expecting cash, per the agreement with Mark, and their faces showed dismay at receiving a check. Chris says, "Don't worry. My mother's check is good." And they left, the wiring complete.

Thanksgiving Fun - Part 2

After figuring out everyone's names, we settled into the house(s). The first couple days, we mostly helped Grandma and Aunt Laura with thier new house. We helped Chris put up light fixtures, fans, went to the hardware store for picture hangers for Grandma's room, and so on.

I hadn't known my grandma and Aunt Laura to be so Catholic. As we started helping them put knicknacks on shelves and pictures on walls, I realized we were handling a lot of Jesus figurines. Both of them have Jesus statues that are about 2 feet tall. There are pictures, crucifixes, and wall hangings. There are also Marys, but not as many as there were Jesuses.

Aunt Laura said she realizes that some people thinks she worships the figurines, but she doesn't; she just likes looking at Jesus. He brings her comfort and she likes the constant reminders of her Savior.

It was fun to hang Grandma's family pictures. There were some of us, her other daughters, and her son, Raymond, who died of leukemia in 1980/81. There was also one of my grandfather, who died around 1985. It was a picture of him when he was in the service for WW2. My sister looked at it, and said, "Put curly hair on him and that's Jackie!" So we went to find my sister Jackie, and sure enough, she's the spitting image of Grandpa.

The only things I remember about my grandfather are that he gave us sips of his beer (which was gross, but we kept sipping anyway) and he drove us around in his baby blue Volkswagon beetle. But my grandma still talks about him.

Thanksgiving Fun - Part 1

Over the next few posts, I want to share some of the fun I had over Thanksgiving. I know it's already past, but the stories are fun. Here's the introduction:

On Sunday before Thanksgiving, I traveled with my two-year-old neice, Olivia, to Modesto, CA. I bought her a little teddy bear backpack with a leash on it so I wouldn't lose her. She liked to wear it backwards, so she could hug the teddy, and I've never had so many people looking at us. She's really cute, and was very well behaved.

We arrived in Oakland and met my mom and my one-year-old nephew who flew in on another flight, and my grandmother and her neice (my mom's cousin). I've never met the cousin, and when grandma introduced me, she said, "this is Lil". But Lil, upon giving me a hug, said, "The family calls me Lil but I prefer to go by Chris. You can call me Chris." And she called my grandma "Aunt Amelia", which is strange because my entire life, Grandma's name has been Frances. I know her name is Amelia Frances, but she has always preferred using her middle name.

After about an hour and a half drive, we arrived in Ceres, outside Modesto. My great-aunt Laura and great-uncle Nacho and his wife, Macie, all live on the same property, along with J.C., Aunt Laura's grandson. Aunt Laura's husband, also called Nacho, died about a year ago and J.C. moved in. Apparently Aunt Laura has wanted a new house for years, so she built one, right next door to the mobile home she's lived in for 35 years. Then she convinced Grandma and Uncle Nacho to move in - Grandma in the new house and Nacho and Macie in the old one.

Now if you're not yet confused about everyone's names, here's the fun part: Uncle Nacho's real name is Ignacio, but he goes by Manuel (I only heard Macie call him that) and the family has always called him Nacho. My grandmother is known by her names, Frances and Amelia, but also as Cotana (a nickname her grandmother gave her), and Nacho calls her ADD. Aunt Laura is just called Laura, but Nacho's daughter is also Laura, and one of Aunt Laura's granddaughters as well.

There were more of us in addition to everyone listed: my sister and her husband, mother-in-law, oldest son, and our younger sister, drove down and arrived at grandma's on Monday morning. Dad drove in on Wednesday with a rental car (he had been working). My poor nephews and neice - there was "grandma" (my mom), "grandmama" (paternal grandmother) and "nana" (my grandma). They never quite got it.

Uncle Nacho's daughter, Laura, came with her husband and two kids. My aunt Alice and uncle Ronnie came with their grandson. Aunt Laura's daughter, Mary Helen and her son Paul (J.C. was already there) and his wife came; as well as her daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren. There were a few others for dinner who's names/relations I don't remember.

I didn't realize that I'm part of a big family. It was really fun! My mom's cousin Laura when she met us, said, "I always called you my white cousins!" We laughed...my grandmother is the only one of her siblings who married a Caucasian, and all of her children did as well. The family members in my mom's generation are much more latino than my mom and her siblings, but the cousins my age are pretty well mixed. I love coming from an ethnic background. My aunt Laura made all kinds of great Mexican food, and Aunt Macie makes the best beans I've ever had.

Why Blog?

My friend Brian's post from the other day, Brutal Honesty, and the link there, started me thinking about why I blog. It made me realize that there remain people out there who think what they write is private. How is that possible? If we post something in a public forum, we can't expect to have private treatment. I have no idea who reads my ramblings other than the few of you who comment, and I assume more people read than comment. Maybe even my boss. Or an ex-boyfriend. Should I be mad at my annonymous readers? No. Should I be surprised when people I vaguely know talk to me about my posts? No. Should I try to keep my identity a secret? Again, no.

So why do I blog? It's all part of my effort to let people into my life, as I discussed in my last post. Over the last couple years, I've realized how much I need to work on speaking my internal dialogue aloud. I have a lot of conversations in my head and I often forget that people can't read my mind. Or I've thought about something so much, I don't realize I never acutally said anything.

That's it. This blog is part of my effort to let friends and family know about how and what I think - to an extent. I have a private journal that isn't published online and I exercise a lot of self-censorship regarding what is published. I realize that if I totally expose myself to the world I have to deal with the consequences. Just like I don't tell anyone who asks that I'm really not fine, I don't broadcast to the world all of my feelings and thoughts online. It's naive to think everyone cares.

Invitation to a Beheading

I just finished reading Invitation to a Beaheading by Vladimir Nabokov for my book club. What a strange story! Here's the quick summary: The main character, Cincinnatus C., is jailed and sentenced to be beheaded. His crime is that he's different from everyone else. The entire story is surreal; the officials are strangely polite, his fellow prisoner is intent on being friends, the clock on the wall has painted hands that the official repaints every hour, there are several out of body experiences and so on.

Cincinnatus is convinced that he sees things the way they really are, but no one else in the story listens to him. They are so wrapped up in the make-believe world that to question the perceived reality is equal to a death sentence; Cincinnatus is the perfect example. Eventually, it is not even worth his energy to keep fighting the facade; he just turns in on himself, hopeless, awaiting execution. The strangest part is, everyone else is preoccupied with politeness and form - they are very solicitous of Cincinnatus and expect the same consideration in return.

The comment on our society is striking. So often we are concerned with how we do things that the purpose behind the actual task or relationship or whatever is forgotten. In the story, the executioner is concerned about making Cincinnatus feel good about his execution. Cincinnatus is expected to be gracious and "play his part" to make the production a success. Isn't that what we do all the time? If someone hurts me, it is easier to cover up my feelings and show the world that I'm okay and I'm expected to "play along" with a casual apology.

This is why I love following Jesus. He doesn't want me to be fake and chastises me when I am. There is no room in Christian living for a spiritual facade. There's a word for that - hypocrisy. One of the hardest parts of following Jesus is getting past the lies I tell myself. Things like "it's okay to lie about what I think in order to avoid offending someone" or "It's okay to smile and nod at church for 3 hours and never really connect with another person". I decided several years ago that I need to live a transparent life, meaning this: If I don't open up to people about how I feel and what is important to me, they can't care for me. I want people to care about me. And I've found that when they care about me, it is natural for me to respond in kind. So following the example of Jesus, I try to make relationships, even messy or inconvenient ones, a priority. Since I'm an introvert, I'm not very good at it!

Invitation to a Beheading ends with Cincinnatus lying on the executioner block when his world starts fading away - literally growing smaller and smaller until people are a mere nuisance and the ax has no ability to chop. He hears voices of "people like him" and he stands up, walking toward them. I suppose that's what we each have to do: refuse to play along with the facade until it fades away. What's left is the truth: people like us.

Book Reviews

I thought I'd take some time and share my thoughts on the books I've been reading. So here they are:

Leap of Faith
I started reading this book in September, about a month before I traveled to Jordan. I really enjoyed the perspective it gave me. It did feel a little bit like a piece put out by Jordan's Minister of Tourism and/or Information, but I didn't expect a queen to be critical of her people or nation. The neatest part about reading the book before and during my Jordan trip was seeing the things that she talks about in real life. There's a main road named after her brother-in-law, and the eco-tourism projects that she was instrumental in are up and running.

Type Talk
While in Jordan, our host had a book called Types at Work and is about how personality types function in the workplace. I read quite a bit while there, and wanted to follow up once I got home. On Tuesday I checked Type Talk out from the library and finished in a day (it was much of the same material as the authors' other book).

This book, and the whole idea of personality types, is fascinating. The authors use the Myers-Briggs personality indicators (or whatever it's called) as the basis for their work. I'm an ISTJ (Introvert, Sensing, Thinking, Judging). It turns out only 25% of the population is Introverted, and only 33% of Thinkers are women. Lucky me.

All week I've been aware of how my personality influences my behaviors. The book's description of my type is disturbingly accurate; right down to my ability to act like and be mistaken for an Extravert (my Jordan host thought I was an E). It also described my roommate's personality - even as far as her occupation (nurse). It'd be fun for all of you readers to take a free online test and post your results as a comment! Test 1 or Test 2 (I like Test 2 better because it gives percentages)

Sixty-One Weeks
This is an unpublished manuscript by my friend, Joel (see link on right). It is very thought-provoking and I will be writing more about the thoughts provoked later. Here's the background: Joel travelled from Beijing to Istanbul in 61 weeks and wrote about it.

The Peacemaker
See my post called "Conflict and Resolution" for a review of this book.

Left to Tell
I read this for my book club. Even though I picked it, I wasn't terribly impressed. It felt a little simplistic and pedantic. Too bad, because the author's story is worth hearing.

Blessings

Last week I received a free ticket to a women's church event I wanted to attend. It only cost $10, but I had been hesitant to purchase a ticket because I wasn't sure the event would be worth it. Then, a young friend of mine who comes in and out of my life (in when she needs help, mostly) saw the ticket when she came to visit me at work. She's been involved in drugs and alcohol and has a generally unhealthy lifestyle. It's been almost six weeks of clean living and she started counseling and getting other professional help. Anyway, she left very broad hints that she would like to attend the party - saying things like "That would be good for me," and "I need to learn how to have clean fun" and so on. So I offered to take her with me.

I ended up buying her $10 ticket on Thursday afternoon. On Friday, I did a favor for someone and they insisted on paying me when they didn't have to. I made an easy $20.

My friend and I had a great time.

The Dreaded Topic

I was talking to a friend a few months ago about finances. I asked him if he tithes and he responded negatively, saying that he regularly purchases food for the homeless and doesn't feel the need to tithe. (For those of you wondering, my definition of "tithe" is to give 10% of your earnings to the church you attend). He asked me if I tithe, which I do, and then he proceeded to speculate that because I don't earn very much, the amount I give is smaller and I must not notice it. I was surprised he would think that just because I make it a habit and don't earn much, I wouldn't notice. Every paycheck I am aware that 10% is not mine to spend. And I really notice it when I have to choose between things like new brakes or a visit to the dentist.

This is not the only friend I have that doesn't give to the church on a regular basis. It surprises me that these friends, who are dear, loving, and true believers, don't tithe. They are not alone; many people who attend church don't tithe. I suppose I'm surprised that something so basic in understanding who we are in Christ is not followed. The Bible clearly teaches that God will bless us when we give. This doesn't mean that God is some supernatural mutual fund, but he clearly rewards those who store treasure in heaven rather than on earth.

For me, tithing is an act of trust and obedience. I don't earn enough money to do everything the financial advice books tell me about and I get frustrated reading them. But if I were to keep my 10% and pay off my debt or do something equally good, it would be like telling God, "I know better what to do with my money than you do". This attitude is unbiblical and reveals a deep distrust of the Lord. Jesus teaches that God the Father cares more about his children than anything in nature, and the birds of the air always eat and the lilies of the field are beautifully dressed.

This whole issue brings up another question: Does money master me or do I master money? If money is my master, that means God is not in his proper position. This is unacceptable. If I cannot surrender every part of my life, including my checking account, to the Lord, then I am in rebellion. I am also a liar, as I say that I trust/love/obey God and yet keep control of this one area.

I also think that the church doesn't talk enough about finances. Why do we feel free to tell people what to do in culturally accepted moral issues (forgiveness, loving others, etc), but so many pastors and others feel that finances are a "private" issue? The benefits of living debt-free are innumerous and the reasons are biblical. It seems we have let the culture hijack the responsibility of teaching personal responsibility regarding finances. The only thing our culture seems to be good at is telling us how to spend money - I especially like the "use this credit card and x amount will be put in a savings account". What kind of logic is that?

I also need to make some disclaimers - I work for a church. My job is made more difficult when there isn't money to spend in order to accomplish my tasks. Also, I am not trying to make anyone feel guilty or writing with any particular person in mind. So if you happen to know me and don't tithe, please don't think I'm talking about you - this is a general musing and you are not my target.

Three years ago I created my own 3-phase "debt-free fast plan". This month I hit a milestone by paying off all my credit card debt. What a great feeling! Phase 2 is now half-way done, and scheduled to be completed by the end of the year, give or take a month. And I continue to tithe, remembering the times that God blessed and provided for me, and knowing that he will continue to do so.

Driving Without Escape

For months, I've been hearing a knocking sound in the rear of my car when I brake, so in July I took it in for a quote. Since July, the knocking went away, only to be replaced by a distinct grinding sound. When I took the car in on Friday (yes, over 2 months since the quote), I was told that I need something else to be replaced as well. I trust this mechanic and let him do the work.

Since the car has a standard transmission, I've been making a conscious effort to downshift rather than brake. When I picked up my car Friday after work, I drove down the street with the radio off and the windows down, testing the new brakes. There was no grinding, knocking, or other unhealthy sounds. For a while I thought the mechanic did a bad job because the brakes didn't feel quite right. Downshifting has become such a habit, that four days later, I still feel weird braking. It feels even stranger to brake and not hear further deterioration and to not feel guilty about putting off the work for so long.

This little experience in car maintainence started me thinking about escape mechanisms we all use. For me, downshifting was an alternative, or escape, from using of my brakes. Using the brakes was necessary, but because I did not give them proper attention, they became hazardous and less effective than they should be.

So here's the analogy: Using brakes is like facing real life. It is necessary for us to have the tools to deal with problems rather than avoid them. Downshifting to escape using the brakes works to some extent, but I still need the brakes in order to stop completely.

We live in an escapist culture. The obsession with media is an easy place to start. When we go to a movie or pick up a novel or watch 24, we allow ourselves to become absorbed in a fictional world. We would rather watch TV than spend time cultivating relationships. The number of people with addiction problems in our culture is staggering, and it's because people don't know how to cope with life. They need the mind-altering effects of alcohol or drugs to deaden them. How many of our children are on behavioral medications? Sometimes it seems that parents would rather medicate kids because it's an easy way to produce desired behavior. In facts, drugs have become an escape for all sorts of problems from fighting pain to sexual disfunction to growing hair. Why does our society need to escape?

This need is overwhelming. What is wrong with going bald? Like painkillers (and the ensuing addictions), it feels like society wants to treat symptoms rather than address underlying issues. Maybe part of the reason is that the real causes of pain expose our helplessness. If we can control the symptom, there's no need to acknowledge that we can't control the disease. If we can escape from working through relationships, whether by divorce or other means, we can excuse our shortcomings by blaming each other.

Thinking about this can be a downer. But honestly, it makes me more thankful that I follow Jesus, who has authority over all things. I've been reading the book of Mark for a class, and I am struck by how many times Jesus demonstrates authority over everything: sickness, death, demons, and sin. Here's an example:

Jesus says, "Which is easier: to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Get up, take your mat and walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins . . . ." He said to the paralytic, "I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home." He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, "We have never seen anything like this!" (Mark 2: 9-12)

Jesus can forgive our sin. I think if I were faced with the reality of life without forgiveness I would choose escape. Anything to keep my mind off the hopelessness and lack of purpose in life. But Jesus gives life to the death in which humanity is trapped. Perhaps this is the ultimate escape that the world tries to counterfeit.

Escape isn't always bad. I enjoy movies and TV (I'm currently a West Wing addict). Vacations are very helpful to rest and reenergize. People I know have legitimate needs for anti-depressants and other medications. But there is such a thing as too much. If I never got new brakes, I'd be in a lot of trouble. The escape of downshifting only works for a little while and was not worth the anxiety caused by not having decent brakes. And the fact that I grew so comfortable with my escape mechanism is alarming - the solution felt abnormal, the escape had become preferable. And that's the problem.

I have more thoughts on this subject... perhaps I'll post more or edit later.

The Weapon by My Bed

(Originally posted 8/18/06 on another site)

Earlier this summer I was over at my parents' house. My dad was getting ready to go target shooting and invited me along; I was bored, so I went. Now you have to understand, my dad is a bow hunter. This means he has a compound bow and a hundred accessories (including a tool to fletch arrows i.e., re-feather them). Before we left the house, my dad had me try to pull the bow so that I could shoot a little. He laughed at me when I couldn't do it then he told me it is 68 pounds to pull back. I told him I'm a girl and proud of it. When we arrived at the gallery, Dad rented me a bow. It was only a 35 pound pull, but gosh-darn it, I hit the target. Dad reassured me that I was doing well, and I couldn't take down an elk, but I could kill a deer. Or a human.

Later in the summer, I went with Dad and Bryan, my brother-in-law, to the Washington Park outdoor range. They like to go there because, well, it's outside, and also because they can shoot from a variety of distances. I was bored sitting around, so I asked Dad if I could shoot his bow. I held the bow, and he helped me pull it back (because of the way compound bows are made, it takes less strength to hold it at full-draw than it does to pull it back). He backed off so I could release, and boy, that bow is powerful. I could barely control it enough to get the arrow in the hay bale.

It wasn't until I held my dad's bow at full draw that I really recognized the power of that particular weapon. It reminded me of the times we'd gone firearm shooting. Every time I hold a handgun, I'm in awe of and intimidated by the power contained in that device. The damage I could do from a flick of my finger with both weapons is daunting.

These thoughts about weapons got me to thinking about a verse in the Bible that reads, "For the word of God is full of living power. It is sharper than the sharpest knife, cutting deep into our innermost thoughts and desires." Other translations call it a sword instead of a knife, but regardless of word choice, the Bible is definitely comparing the word of God to a weapon. Since the sword/knife was the weapon of the day when this was written, I suppose we could say that the Bible is more powerful than the highest caliber rifle, or more penetrating than the fastest arrow, and keep the essence of the verse.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that I don't treat the Bible as a powerful weapon. I let it sit by my bed, inanimate unless I'm reading. I don't lock it up to keep it away from children and irresponsible adults; I don't take it apart and store the sections separately to prevent accidents. That would be silly. The power of the Bible is not in its physical manifestation, but the impact it has on our inner lives. That verse concludes with, "It exposes us for what we really are."

The Bible is a weapon that destroys lives to renew them. It's a paradox. The Bible cuts through our pretense to expose who we really are: selfish people living for ourselves, wrapped up in our pride, trying to look good. It destroys everything we create for ourselves. A weapon that kills.

However.

The thing it destroys, sin, is worthy of destruction. Another part of the Bible comes to mind: "And Christ died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation."

The Bible cuts deeply. If you have experienced spiritual conviction you know what I mean. It hurts when pride is destroyed and you realize your depth of selfishness; especially when, like me, you've lived an entire life as a "good" Christian. But like the passage above, the Bible not only cuts, it heals. Without the pain of sin being excised, there is no reconciliation with God, or with each other.

"Living power" is what that first verse calls the strength in this weapon called the word of God. So lying by my bed, a simple object, there is no power in it. The power happens when I know what is written. For me, that means memorizing it. I have found no better way to experience the word of God in my life than to meditate and memorize parts of it. If you want to experience this power in your life, give it a try. I suggest starting with Matthew 5, the teachings of Jesus.

Conflict and Resolution

(Originally posted 8/6/06 on a different site)

I just finished a book called The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict. I started it because some people I respect recommended it, and I have to admit, it has drastically changed the way I view conflict.

The first point the book make is that conflict is not bad. Rather, it offers opportunity for growth, change, and greater intimacy and understanding in relationships. I hadn't really thought of conflict that way, but it totally makes sense.

I suspect I'll be reading and referring to this book in the future (after I get it back from my sister), but the main things I took away the first time around are as follow:

One - the Golden Result, which is related to the Golden Rule. The way we treat others is the way they will treat us. So, if I approach someone with preconcieved ideas of who they are and why they act the way they do, they will approach me the same way. It is so much better to love people and act lovingly towards them. Conflict is easier resolved when the parties don't feel judged or defensive.

Two - conflict begins in the heart. There is an entire chapter on this one. It talks about how conflict begins with a desire. This desire can be something overtly wrong (I want to hurt someone), but it can also be wanting a good thing (peaceful home). The conflict starts when the desire turns into a demand. When I start thinking or saying, "I can't be happy without ______", the desire has turned into an idol and all my energies are spent meeting that demand. The next step is judgement. When others can't meet our demands, we'll criticize and condemn them with our thoughts, if not words. The final step is punishment, whether it is withholding affection, lashing out in anger, or even leaving a relationship.

This sounds like a self-help book by my summary, but it's really not. It points out how living for others and pursuing peace is really counter-cultural, no matter which nationality a person is. Because of sin, humans are selfish. As I try to be more like Jesus, I realize how incredibly selfish I am. My desires that turn to demands are the hardest to spot - I want good things too much. I'm learning to let God give me the gifts that he wants to bless me with and stop trying to get them like a child searching for Christmas presents in August.

I recently had a conversation with someone who had hurt me. I was ready to tell this person how I had been hurt and how a situation made me feel and why that person was wrong to do what he/she did. Praise the Lord, I was influenced through this book and was able to discuss the conflict but keep our friendship. I'm so glad.

Ken Lay... RIP?

My friend Scott wrote about the death of Kenneth Lay, former Enron executive. His post is thoughtful and thought-provoking, however, I can't help but wonder... Is Ken Lay really dead?

Think about it: is there a more likely candidate to fake his own death? And since he died before sentencing, is his estate safe from paying for his crimes? This could be a very elaborate scheme, complete with a wax body for the wake, or just a closed-casket funeral. How many coroners would be willing to take a couple hundred thousand to create a death certificate?

If his wife suddenly decides the Texas house just isn't home without Ken, packs up and moves to the Cayman Islands, I'll be very suspicious...