Visualization of Relief

Take a minute and give a buck. This is the Darfur Wall.  A sort of memorial/donation board.

What I really like about this is that it shows you the difference that you are making in a slight more tangible way.  The number you clicked on lights up very nicely.  While still somber, it’s easier to feel like a small contribution really did go the long way people talk about them going.

800 in line, 790 disappointed*

The PlayStation 3 will be released upon us poor Americans in about 30 minutes. A couple of folks got in line in San Francisco to get their system. $500 or $600 (no game included) later for the first few and the rest will go home without the prize.

Is it worth it? The system I’m getting is $250, with a game, and they made enough of the things that I don’t have to wait in line for more than an hour (and that hour will be mostly meet and greet/nerd observation time and buying an extra controller). Is that worth it?

Watch Out Jesus! It’s a Trap!

Adult Children

During the sermon this morning, our pastor asked what we thought it was like or meant to be a child of God. The congregation wrote down answers and was invited to share if they wanted to.

There were some really good responses. Actually, all of them were good. Being a child of God is like…

…having peace.
…being loved.
…being accepted.
…being forgiven.
…being able to serve.

There were many, many others. But I noted something while I was at lunch with my friends. All of them were very adult answers. That is, they were answers an adult would give. They are answers that speak of a life that has had its share of pain and sorrow as well as joy. They weren’t the innocent answers of a child (how could they be?). The response at lunch was telling. My friends replied that of course they were adult answers, there weren’t any children there.

I didn’t have opportunity to reply as the conversation turned on its merry way to other delightful topics. But I felt sad at that fact. They were right, the congregation was full of adults and a baby or two and at least one child, but I doubt there were two present. The rest of the kids were in their own Sunday morning activities having fun and learning in a different way instead of being in the church service.

Then again, they weren’t right. The room was full of children. The sermon spoke to that. These children had simply forgotten a little bit about being children. As if Peter Pan really did grow up.

Being a child of God is indeed about peace and compassion and joy and forgiveness and love. But a child generally doesn’t think in such clear terms. At least, I didn’t when I was a child. I simply knew I was safe at home or with my parents. I didn’t need to describe it, it just was. I took it for granted, no doubt, but that was part of the indescribable nature of the whole thing.

So I thought about my own answer to what it is like to be a child of God, but in the way an adult who is thinking as a child would answer.

Being a child of God is like…

…running through the sprinklers on a summer day.
…ice cream in a sugar cone melting onto your hand.
…skinning your knees in a baseball game.
…trying to swing all the way around the swing set.
…playing freeze tunnel tag, no tag backs, safe zone at the oak tree for five seconds.
…a rainstorm while the sun is still shining on the horizon.
…staying up past your bed time for a fireworks show.
…running, for no reason, in any direction.
…water balloon fights.
…making a sand castle and wondering where the tide takes it.
…being friends with everyone else around your age because that’s just how the world works, isn’t it?

At least, that’s what I think. How about you?

Back on the Mainland

We returned from Catalina without too much adventure (that I’m aware of).  I had a great weekend relaxing, talking with friends, reading, thinking, examining my life a bit, and generally recharging.  There’s probably lots to tell, but I’m still digesting some stuff.

In the meantime, here are some photos I took.  I stuck with black and white photos this time around.  I just like it better.  I feel like I can express things better without the color.  Go figure.  Only a couple are color and you’ll see why.

Enjoy!

The Chinks of our Weakness

Something a friend mentioned this last weekend sparked an idea in my head. The remark was about temptation. The idea was slightly more complex.

My immediate thought afterwards was a kind of, “What else is new?” reaction. Temptation isn’t new by any stretch and we all deal with it in one form or another. Depending on the situation, it can be of great concern, though. Then I thought about my own dance with temptation and remembered that sometimes living the life you want to live is much harder than other times.

I remember a passage from The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. One of the ghosts in the story has a small dragon or lizard on his shoulder (I’d check exactly, but I’ve lent the book out to a friend). This creature represents the ghosts addictions while alive on earth and it is clear that the creature does not hold the best interests of its host at heart. Over the course of this ghost’s story, the offer to kill the creature comes to play. The pain and fear of resulting death impede the creature’s destruction at the hands of a being of light until a simple realization happens. Even death would be better than life with the creature. The being of light gives assurances that the ghost will not die (what a twist, a ghost afraid of death!) and the ghost agrees to be rid of the creature.

At this point, something marvelous happens. The creature, instead of dying, transforms into a bright horse that the ghost, now fully formed also as a being of light, rides in the glorious mountains of heaven.

It’s much more beautiful in the book than I write here. But it tells a simple lesson. Many of us live life thinking that our strengths and talents are that which give glory to God, whoever we claim faith in, or the universe at large. There’s no arguing that the beauty and goodness we are capable of certainly do give the Creator a good deal of credit.

The real deal, the brightest light in creation, comes from our weaknesses. On the one hand, they simply aren’t truly weaknesses. They are our shortcomings, but that matters little to to any higher power. Our weaknesses are just as much a means for the creation of something beautiful as our strengths. Our strength is the armor we put on each day. But in so putting on this armor, we also block the light that shines out from within. Our weaknesses are the chinks in the armor where things don’t quite fit together and the light within streams out in sharp beams.

Temptation is a hard thing. But it is a good thing. Temptations expose our weaknesses to us and show us the areas of our life where those chinks are waiting to be discovered. Temptations force us to confront our weaknesses, lay them bare, and open them to let the light shine all the better.

The Whole “Witness” Thing

There was a good discussion this last Thursday at church about what it means to talk to someone about your faith. I’m not great at internalizing group discussions, particularly if there are more than three other people besides myself. That said, I think the end point was to care less about getting your message across and more about where the person you are talking to is coming from. Long story to follow, but the short is that I agree. You can stop now if you like. The fun part now is whether the long story fits the short story…

The one thing I thought afterwards was how things have changed. When I was a kid (8 or so, not the 28 year old kid I am now), I was told I needed to accept Jesus into my heart and be baptized to go to heaven (and get the bread and juice snacks that I was actually interested in at the time) It seems that this lingo hasn’t changed much since my childhood. I haven’t done a conclusive survey, so there may be a grain of salt around here somewhere for you to borrow.

Then there is the book of Mark dated to nearly 2000 years ago. I don’t have it memorized, but I can usually tell you if a particular story was in Mark or not, at the very least, and can reference stories from the book quite easily. The thing is, Jesus never called anyone to accept him into their heart. In fact, I don’t think that comes up in any of the gospels (if it does, my money is on John). The call is not to accept, but to follow. And not just that, but to take up your cross (or the instrument of death of your choice) and follow. The point isn’t about where Jesus is in relation to you but where you are in relation to him.

And that’s my problem. Accept and believe, by all means. But that isn’t the call to action of Christianity. Neither is baptism, at least in Mark (though Jesus did it, so it probably isn’t a bad idea and it’s just really awesome in its own right). The call to action is to follow a man the establishment considered a liability on a road that leads not to prosperity as we understand it, but to death. Potentially horribly painful and lonely death.

The good news is that death doesn’t matter anymore (not to mention that most of us in America will likely never face death for our faith). It’s lost its sting, as some hymns expertly put it. There’s nothing to fear anymore and nothing to lose from doing the right things that society may not agree with at best or punish/kill you for at worst.

That didn’t really come up, that I recall.

I accept lots of things. I accept that I can’t afford everything I want. I accept that I can’t be with all of my friends all of the time. I accept that I’m nearing my bed time right now. But Jesus isn’t like any of those things. And my acceptance is just that, an acknowledgement that I can’t do anything to change that situation, so I decide to live with it as it is.

But following, that’s a whole different ballgame. To follow, you must leave behind. There is a path to walk, marked by the leader. There is help from a leader. There is movement and ebb and flow of speed along the path. There is time to stop and consider the path behind. And there is acceptance here, too. That you can’t always change where the leader is going (but you can try). That you can’t tell exactly where you are going.

How did we get from following Jesus to accepting Jesus? Seems like a step backwards.