tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61976998828590466072024-03-06T19:49:39.647-08:00Left Coast Sunburn"California's been good to me, I hope it don't fall into the sea." -Tom Petty and the Heartbreakersbenjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-91354974161521542062009-11-06T17:18:00.000-08:002009-11-06T17:55:13.675-08:00Learning from my living room...My favorite chair rests in a corner, beneath a window on one wall and a mirror on the other. The chair’s deep cushions and wide arms make it the perfect spot for reading, relaxing, watching a game. I love the big chair. But, the best feature of the big chair has nothing to do with its construction or its coziness. From the big chair, there is no clock.<br /><br />When I sit in the big chair, the clock in the living room is hidden from my perspective. Sometimes this fact makes me even more time-conscious; unable to keep tabs on the ticking, I fret that as I sit there the day is “getting away from me.” Yet, when I really allow the chair to work its magic, on a lazy Friday or Saturday morning, I get swept up into clock-free living. When I really allow myself to relax, to truly sink in to the chair, the clock matters not at all.<br /><br />I, like so many others, rush through much of life. My calendar dictates my freedoms and often those freedoms are few. True, my work schedule is as flexible as a Romanian gymnast, yet even in the midst of such flexibility I find little freedom to let time slow down around me.<br /><br />I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth, yet, most days I pay little heed to the glistening of the late-afternoon sun spilled across the ocean and allow no time to take in the mountain peaks standing, almost defiant, in shades of mocha and evergreen, cast against a sky so deep blue that it seems intent on mimicking the neighboring ocean.<br /><br />My great fear, as I consider my clock-consumed life, is not that I will go through life ignorant of the breathtaking natural beauty around me—although that would qualify as tragedy—but that the way I live allows me little time to truly love well. Not surprisingly, the example of Jesus challenges me in this.<br /><br />During Jesus’ ministry, an important official came to him, pleading for the Messiah to come visit his sick daughter, teetering on the edge of death. The Son of Man obliged, until he didn’t. On the way, a woman who had sought him out for healing thrust herself into his path, into his schedule, and into the desperate father’s story. In the midst of a legitimate, time-crunch crisis (at least from one perspective), Jesus stopped. He stopped and listened. He stopped and listened and healed. He stopped and listened and healed and blessed this woman for her faith. Then he moved on. Despite the demands of the seemingly urgent, Christ refused to let the clock dictate when and where he would show compassion. <br /><br />And once the Great Physician reached the father’s house, he showed his stubborn rejection of the clock yet again. Already told that his presence was no longer necessary, that the girl had died, that he was, ironically, “too late,” Christ responded to the cynical hearts of the scoffers with more compassion. The Lord of time and space, it seems, has little need to be confined by time and space. <br /><br />The chair in the corner reminds me of all this; of my refusal to slow down and enjoy where God has placed me, of Christ’s example of more, of my need to live —if even for a fleeting moment or two—as if the clock didn’t reign supreme and take the time to bless the life of another. So, even though life doesn’t allow me to spend all of my time in my chair, I hope to live all of life as though sitting in that corner, in its easy embrace.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-37361689849916677302009-09-14T10:13:00.001-07:002009-09-14T10:37:28.171-07:00Pumpkin spice lattes, Jacques Cousteau and the providence of GodToday makes me think of kickball. I loved kickball in my younger days. Kickball, such a simple contest, is made even simpler by the two-word phrase every kid has on the tip of his or her tongue at all times during the game: "do over." <br /><br />As I would step up to the painted square on the ground I had grand visions of an epic blast unleashed by my right foot that schoolchildren would talk about in hushed tones for years to come. In my vision, all of my teammates would crowd around me to celebrate and then hoist me upon their not-so-broad shoulders as the whole playground learned of my prowess. When this exact scenario didn't play out, which was often, all I had to do was cry "do over" and I'd get to go again. As you might imagine, I yelled "do over" rather frequently.<br /><br />It has been a "do over" kind of a day. Wrestling with some gnarly youth ministry stuff, a boatload of things on my to-do list, and, topping it all off, I made terrible coffee at home this morning. So, I started my "do over day" with a trip to Starbucks to at least right one wrong.<br /><br />Shortly after ordering my Pumpkin Spice Latte (yes, I wrote it on the magical internet for anyone to read), a series of photographs on the wall caught my eye. Hung next to a quote from Jacques Cousteau, the first one featured a Great White Shark, a pale almost iridescent blue, hanging motionless as if by a string, against the deeper blue of the ocean background. Truly stunning. Turns out, <a href="http://www.clintonkhollister.com/underwater.html">the photographer</a> takes some unbelievable underwater photos.<br /><br />As I looked at photos of fish, crazy underwater plants and other creatures that defy my powers of description, Jesus' words popped into my head. "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns..." The fish of the sea reminded me of the birds of the air which reminded me of the Father's great love and care for me.<br /><br />Even as I would want to cry out "do over" and make the difficult things ahead simply disappear, God says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." So, I won't cry out "do over," and not only because it won't do any good. No, I'll wait expectantly for the Lord's comfort and deliverance in the midst of it all, and when he acts, hoist his name up on my shoulders for the world to learn of his goodness.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-43923894689047054272009-09-04T18:32:00.000-07:002009-09-04T18:35:00.400-07:00Hello, again...I haven’t posted anything here in a disgustingly long time. As good excuses go (e.g. “my critical, groundbreaking cancer research kept monopolizing my time”), I’m fresh out. So, I won’t fake it. A brief update on some happenings ‘round here lately:<br /><br />-Made some really nice progress on Greta’s list of 30 things to do in her 30th year (some highlights: Dole whip at Disneyland, snowboarding in Boise, a night at the Ritz-Carlton in Marina Del Rey)<br />-Witnessed Japan eek out a win over Korea in the final of the World Baseball Classic at Dodger Stadium (most electric sports crowd I’ve ever been in)<br />-Got evacuated from our home during yet another Southern California fire (stunningly inconvenient, and our home was unaffected)<br />-Read <em>The Reason for God </em>by Tim Keller (best book I've read in a long time)<br />-Got a new job<br /><br />I’ve got more than that, but most of it is tied to the final one. On May 15, I worked my last day at Westmont College. Really, it was a great two-year run and I loved the chance to work with incredible students who continue to shake up the world and alongside fantastic co-workers who made every workday an adventure. Not many other positions would have made me consider leaving Westmont. Youth Pastor at Santa Barbara Community Church is one of them.<br /><br />On May 27, I started working at the church that Greta and I had attended (and loved) for the last two years. My job responsibilities are varied, so I won’t reproduce my job description here, but, in short, I oversee the church’s ministries to youth 5th-12th grade. We had such an incredible summer and I have really loved diving right in. I can’t wait to see where this road will lead and the path that God has drawn out.<br /><br />In preparation for reawakening this long-dormant slice of cyberspace, I read through some old posts. Just two summers ago, I sat around in misery waiting for God to open doors that seemed firmly shut. Then, at just the right time, he brought along Westmont. Now, he’s done it again and I find myself, just as in August of 2007, consumed with thanksgiving. <br /><br />Ironically, I already got to preach a sermon this summer in my new role. The topic? Psalm 100 and thanksgiving. Consider me convinced.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-55352140408431408792008-12-09T16:01:00.001-08:002008-12-09T16:02:33.470-08:00Come, Thou Long Expected ChapelSo, <a href="http://www.westmont.edu/media/chapel/media/f08_chapel_mp3/12-08-08.mp3">here's the message</a> that's mentioned in the post below. It actually went quite well, once I finally found my inspiration and wrote it (Sunday morning).benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-23814370905021908082008-12-01T15:41:00.000-08:002008-12-01T16:03:39.677-08:00Back to work...I have sat in front of my computer for a while now. Trying to write my message for chapel. I selected the passage months ago, so it shouldn't be too hard now, right? Just use that fancy education, pull out the main point and exposit. Spice it up with some stories and, voila, a chapel talk. Doin' this for years, now. No big deal. Right?<br /><br />A funny thing happened on the way to "world's easiest chapel talk." Seems the transition from "crisis response" to "desk work" is harder than I anticipated. Should I really be sitting at my desk again while others no longer have theirs? Can I justify spending an entire afternoon contemplating 7 verses of Scripture when some in our immediate community have much bigger things to contemplate?<br /><br />The Tea Fire broke out 18 days ago. For many of those 18 days, I could find something to do that at least felt as though I was making war against the fallen world in which we live, with its fires, tornadoes, mudslides, earthquakes and hurricanes. I could fill sandbags, sift through ash, load and unload U-Hauls and crawl into bed at night knowing I charged the darkness in the name of hope.<br /><br />But charging the fluorescent lights of my office feels altogether different. And therein, I have concluded, lies the issue and the issue is entirely mine. I fell too in love with the idea of Benji the Hero and am finding it hard to take off the costume and return to my mild-mannered alter ego. But, this is the front upon which I've been called to fight now. At this computer. <br /><br />Perhaps writing this chapel talk is the boldest act of hope I can muster. Perhaps daring to get back to "normal" will scream loudly to the world that though all is not now right, all is not yet finished. Perhaps "crisis response" is simply character training ground for "desk work." Perhaps this isn't about my fancy education or my ability to exposit at all. Perhaps it is simply about moving on. In hope.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-72424767528457463292008-09-12T09:57:00.000-07:002008-09-12T10:01:07.319-07:00Political thoughts...Recently, one of my favorite seminary professors asked for the political thoughts of a divided household (mine) on the upcoming elections, the choices for VPs, and other things political.<br /><br />Here's my response:<br /><br />As for Palin, I don't know much about her, actually. She seems rather dynamic and a nice change of pace from GOP business-as-usual. I know some Dems like to say she has no experience, but that's a surprising tactic given their own choice for Commander in Chief. Her down-to-earthness may be a stroke of genius given that America is still recovering from 8 years of entrenched political family leadership. Is it enough to offset McCain's image as a career politician? Don't know.<br /> <br />Here's what I'm pretty sure I do know. College kids. And since both parties seem to be tripping over themselves to "win" that demographic, the Millenials seem to hold a level of importance they have never enjoyed before. And college kids like words like hope and change. Idealists that they are, these things catch their ever-wandering eyes like a shiny object attracts a primate. And here's a word they don't like: war. Even when coupled with the word "hero."<br /> <br />I think the GOP may be making a grave mistake by playing up McCain's war record if they hope to attract young voters. For most of the 18-25ers I've spoken to, war brings up one image and it's not a particularly pretty one. It comes along with labels like "unjust," "unnecessary," and "unwinnable." Or, more to the point, how most of their history textbooks describe Vietnam, when McCain was carving out his place in our nation's hero history. Unlike their grandparents, who may still have misty memories of going to war to bring down a freedom-threatening genocidal tyrant, these students have no history with war heroes. Rather they see war profiteers. I fear that playing up McCain's war record will look like another type of profiteering to them. One played out on the world's largest stage of democracy.<br /> <br />I say I fear this result because I really do believe that McCain is the better choice. But, I don't hear his name breathed in the same "talking-about-a-boy-band" voice that these students usually reserve for the Junior Senator from Illinois. This worries me because, ironically, at this point in our history, what America may need most is a war hero in the White House.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-28067772074537350662008-06-27T12:50:00.000-07:002008-06-27T13:01:22.215-07:00The teacher becomes the student...One of the things I love most about my job is learning that I have so much to learn. Often, I sit at the feet of those much younger than me for my lessons. <br /><br />This morning I got the chance to speak to a couple of the students who led a trip to Africa that I was involved in sending. The team just landed at JFK this morning for a well-deserved day in the big city after spending the last month in not-so-big Malawi. They all loved their trip, even Emily.<br /><br />Nobody would fault Emily, of course, if she didn’t exactly adore the experience. After all, a trip to the African ER because malaria chose to take up residence in your bloodstream isn’t most people’s idea of a good time. Add in South African Airlines’ conspicuous lack of knowledge as to the whereabouts of Emily’s luggage when they reached the country a month ago, and it seemed like Emily unknowingly signed up for the lead role in "National Lampoon’s African Safari."<br /><br />Then, a couple of days ago, I found out that not only did South African Airlines not know where Emily’s baggage was in May, they weren’t any more knowledgeable about it at the end of June. Yup, homegirl lived in Malawi for a month without any of her luggage. Just the clothes she had on when she boarded the plane on May 27 and whatever stuff she had shoved in her backpack (much of which was emergency contact info and the team leader packet I foisted upon her). Most everything else she had to borrow. For a month. Recipe for disgrunt, I say. But, Emily seemed to be baking from a different cookbook than mine.<br /><br />Emily: “Benji!”<br />Me: “Emily! It’s so good to hear your voice! Welcome home. I’m so sorry to hear about your luggage. That’s awful.”<br />Emily: “You know what? It’s not that big of a deal. I’m over it. I think God really used it to teach me. I needed to go through that.”<br /><br />Emily was already on my short-list for “Least Materialistic College Student,” but now I was really impressed. She told me that it had been hard for her at first, but that she was fine now. She also said that if she never saw her bag again, not such a big deal. If ever someone deserved a New York City shopping spree as a reward for fortitude, it’s her. If ever there was someone completely unlikely to take one, her again.<br /><br />I have much to learn from my students. I just hope I keep taking notes.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Do not worry about what you will wear…</span>benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-74436446820103039712008-06-25T12:49:00.000-07:002008-06-25T13:12:02.378-07:00Dems the breaks, goyim...Last Saturday morning Greta and I cruised to the fabulous Farmer's Market that descends on Santa Barbara each weekend. We often choose the Farmer's Market for our weekly supply of veggies and fruitstuffs.<br /><br />As we cruised through the aisles, I noticed the Barack Obama supporters table, a fixture at the Farmer's Market (I can only assume the John McCain table was at a local gun show). As we passed the table the first time, I thought borderline pleasant political thoughts. Later, after picking up a heavy supply of strawberries, we passed the left-wingers again. This time, someone spoke to me.<br /><br />I heard, "Excuse me, sir? Excuse me?" Immediately my "run-away-from-cell-phone-pimps-at-the-mall" defenses went up. For some reason, I ignore my defenses. Although everything inside of me did not want to turn around in the middle of the Downtown Santa Barbara bastion of liberalism and explain to the kindly people behind the card table why I would not, in fact, be voting for their version of change, I turned anyway.<br /><br />Democrat guy: "Um, excuse, sir?"<br />Me: "Yeah?"<br />Democrat guy: "Do you know Hebrew?"<br />Me: "Um, kind of."<br />Democrat guy: "Could you read this? We just got them in and nobody knows what they say." <br /><br />At this point Democrat guy extends a bumper sticker to me with something scrawled across it in unpointed Hebrew. Unpointed meaning without the vowels. Further meaning not the kind I learned how to read. Fortunately, as with most things in the political realm, this was lowest-common-denominator kind of stuff.<br /><br />Me: "It says 'Barack Obama.'"<br />Democrat guy: (to his Democrat buddies) "Oh, it says 'Barack Obama!' That's great! Thanks, man. You should take this bumper sticker. Since you're the one who read it, you should have it!"<br />Me: "No thanks, that's alright."<br />Democrat guy: "No really, man. How about this button, then? It's the only one we have in Hebrew, but it's yours. Really, I insist."<br />Me: "Uh, thanks."<br /><br />With that I slipped the button into my pocket and walked away beside my beaming/laughing wife. The button is now prominently displayed on the cork board beside the microwave.<br /><br />So, how did Democrat guy single me out to begin with, you ask? Why not grab some other schmuck and ask him to translate the button? Well, everyone else must have left their Hebrew-language shirts from the Dallas Seminary bookcenter in the closet that morning.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-56354216589005055682008-03-24T12:39:00.001-07:002008-03-24T13:24:45.238-07:00Life on the road, part I...My swanky job requires me to do a fair bit of traveling over a week typically dedicated to drunken parties in tropical locations. No, I'm not a cameraman for MTV. My traveling has a rather more sober and "did not come to be served but to serve" feel to it. 200+ of my students chose blood, sweat and tears while some of their peers around the country opt for drugs, sex and beer. A few stories from the week...<br /><br />Started off visiting Spring Break in the City, a group that works in inner-city San Francisco. They serve alongside--not in place of--long-term workers who are seeking to save the lost among the lost. My students served meals, removed graffiti, ran youth center programs and generally poured themselves out as offerings.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Some SF highlights:</span><br />-walking through the Mission District and the Castro, seeking to understand what makes the City one of the most unique anywhere.<br />-having my first impressions of "the street kid with the glare" blown up when we played basketball together. (Nice kid. Quick first step.)<br />-being told by "random homeless guy in the wheelchair" that I was well-dressed and that he loved me.<br />-watching the group lay hands and pray for the suddenly grandfatherless girl just before she left to drive to Arizona to be with her family.<br />-watching leaders emerge when sickness struck.<br />-losing to "the kid who seems to get picked on" in foosball. <br />-losing to the girl nobody dares to pick on in ping pong.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Random SF story:</span><br />-I leave the City on Tuesday morning for the second leg of my excursion (more on that in part II). I get on the road early in order to A. not get stuck in traffic, B. not get stuck in the middle seat on a Southwest flight (No assigned seats? Really?) Apparently, nobody leaves San Francisco to go to Oakland (with good reason, too). With so little company in the lanes beside me, I cross the Bay Bridge rather quickly in my "world's smallest car" entry. Plenty of time for a real breakfast. Not a fast-food, let's grab a bacon Mcsomethin and then run to the terminal type of breakfast, but a sit-down, use a fork and a ceramic coffee mug breakfast. Problem: someone with my depleted supply of attention-span needs something to read. So, I cruise outside of Carrows and survey my newspaper options. San Jose Mercury-News, Oakland Trib, SF Chronicle. Chronicle it is (my condolences to the Hearst family). <br />I open it up and find soon that I'm flipping through the obits. Not really steady reading for folks in my age bracket, so I'm just about to turn to the sports section when I see a name I know. Yeah, that's right. One of my high school baseball assistant coaches died and I randomly saw the obit in the Chronicle at a Carrows in Oakland. Coach Z--I had to read closely to make sure it was really him because I only knew Matthew J. Zidich as Coach Z--lived an incredible life. He played baseball in the Pacific Coast League with Joe DiMaggio. He owned an Oyster Restaurant. He taught me the hitting philosophy that trumps all others: "You gotta be a low ball hitter and a highball drinker." Mom said the funeral was huge. No surprise there. One of those folks you just assume won't die had just died and I read the condensed story of his life, kinda shook my head and took another bite of bacon, avocado, jack. On to the airport...benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-70458503171972846462007-10-27T10:54:00.000-07:002007-10-27T11:01:34.529-07:00Hope in the ashes...This week, fire has me thinking about rain.<br /><br />In 2005, I couldn’t believe the vitriol of “religious” pundits suggesting that Hurricane Katrina was an expression of God’s wrath on New Orleans. At that time, I argued that such statements are preposterous coming from finite creatures lacking access to the motivations of God.<br /><br />This last week, we have watched as walls of fire have consumed significant parts of our beloved Southern California. Some structures destroyed by the inferno—like Malibu Presbyterian Church—held a special place in our hearts. We have received many phone calls from across the country wondering if we were out of harm’s way. We are. What we didn’t receive was the same condemning attitude expressed post-Katrina.<br /><br />This reality has spawned several questions that refuse to leave my mind. Why would we pick and choose our natural disasters, interpreting one here as a deliberate and message-bearing act of God and one there as a consequence of human negligence? What gives us the right to play prophet, especially when we have proven over and over that we play that role so poorly? Perhaps an even more important question: what reading of Scripture would ever justify such expressions of animosity and hopelessness in a time of great pain and loss?<br /><br />In Romans 8, as he and the Roman Christians around him suffered incredibly, Paul’s words were not condemning and judgmental. Rather, the apostle called everyone’s attention to hope. The hope of glory that lies beyond this fallen and broken world with its imperial persecutions, hurricanes, and fires. We, as the body of Christ, ought to radiate hope in all circumstances, and uniquely in times of national pain. We must keep our eyes focused on “the glory that is to be revealed” and call others to match our gaze.<br /><br />Two years later, <a href="http://www.time.com/time/2007/katrina">Katrina’s effects continue on</a>. Continue to pray for the city and people of New Orleans, especially areas such as the Lower Ninth Ward which still lie in shambles. Similarly, California will feel the effects of these fires for years. Continue to pray for the people of Southern California, <a href="http://www.latimes.com/la-me-voices28oct28-lp,0,6247471.special?coll=la-home-center">many of whom face a long road back to normalcy</a>. Two thousand years later, the Church is still wrestling with what it means to be light in the darkness. Continue to pray for the Church, that we would take our role as imago Dei seriously, and represent well the God of love, mercy, and hope in this desperately painful world in which we live.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-10355433188526470422007-10-17T17:30:00.000-07:002007-10-17T17:36:44.835-07:00The playoffs...I'm not usually one to attempt to trumpet my own humor (that would be a rather infrequent endeavor). But the other day, I was actually pretty funny.<br /><br />My blessed wife wrote me the following email on behalf of her office:<br /><br />"Hi,<br /><br />Can you give us a brief summary of the Indians, Rockies, Sox, and DBacks play-off and/or World Series History? We'd like to make some informed decisions about who we support based on under-dog status."<br /><br />I replied as follows:<br /><br />"Here are your brief histories:<br /><br />The Diamondbacks came into the league as an expansion franchise in 1998. Although they revealed the type of poor taste that could only be accepted by doddering retirees in Arizona when they named the franchise after a venomous beast first made famous by embodying the Prince of Darkness, nonetheless, God granted them mercy and allowed them to win the NL West in only their second season in the league. Stunningly, the D-Backs won the World Series in 2001, led by future Yankees-washout Randy Johnson and future Boston loser Curt "I Love Being in the Limelight and Will Say Anything Necessary to Anyone Around in order to Keep Myself There" Schilling. In that series, they beat the New York Yankees, 4 games to 3. Although they likely cheated to do so, investigations have yet to uncover any wrongdoing. Clearly, the D-Backs are not a team that fans should support, given their already obvious run of success and shameless tactics of bringing in pricey free agents in order to compete. <br /><br />The Rockies came into the league as an expansion franchise in 1993. They originally played in Mile High Stadium, home to the NFL's Broncos. The spacious setting allowed them to set somewhat dubious attendance records early in their existence. In 1995, the Rockies moved into Coors Field, a beautiful park disgracefully named after the devil's drink. They first made the playoffs in 1995, winning the National League wild card. They were subsequently beaten by the Atlanta Braves. Pitching has always proven tricky in the Mile High City, given that baseballs tend to fly very far in thin air. In response, the Rockies began to place baseballs in humidors in hopes of keeping them in the park. It has produced favorable results, although too late for once promising pitchers whose careers have gone to Denver to die (see: Neagle, Denny; Hampton, Mike; Kile, Daryl). It seems logical, given the options, that the Rockies are the preferred choice in the National League, although since they play an inferior brand of baseball in which the pitcher bats, thereby sacrificing quality for a weak attempt at a bunt once every nine batters, that's not saying much.<br /><br />The Cleveland Indigenous People Group were a charter member of the American League in 1901. They have a long, if not very successful history. Originally named the Cleveland Blues, they later switched to the completely insensitive and geographically ignorant nickname Indians (the racially offensive mascot/logo was still to come). Since the Indigenous People Group has such a long history, it would follow that there would be much success to celebrate throughout the years. Unfortunately, this is Cleveland we're talking about, and such success is rare. Speculation remains that the city was built on a landfill, but soil samples are inconclusive. Cleveland first played in the World Series in 1920, defeating the Brooklyn Dodgers. The team's only other World Series win came in 1948, giving them the second-longest span since World Series victories of any team in baseball. Their place is safe, however, since the longest such streak belongs to the Cubs (1908), who are an entirely awful impersonation of a baseball franchise. Although the Indigenous People Group had an opportunity to end their years of misery in 1995 and 1997, instead they lost to the Atlanta Braves and the Florida Marlins, respectively, thereby besmirching the World Series crown by allowing it to be worn by a team from the vastly inferior National League. Cleveland, given its history of losing and racial insensitivity, would not seem to be a good candidate for your American League support, however...<br /><br />Boston sucks.<br /><br />Hope this helps,<br /><br />Benj"benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-34278297744536068622007-08-20T18:43:00.000-07:002007-08-20T18:44:53.769-07:00A change of demeanor...I realize that this blog has lacked my attention lately, and I have a great explanation for that: my job has kept me super busy.<br /><br />Yes, after two months of unemployment—the first of which was welcome and very restful, incidentally—I have found another employer crazy enough to hire me. This time, it’s <a href="http://www.westmont.edu">Westmont College</a>.<br /><br />Actually, my job is an incredible mixture of things that I really love and care about. The type that only God could come up with. I serve at the College as the Campus Life Coordinator. In that capacity, I get to serve as an adviser for three student groups. In no particular order, the groups are:<br /><br />Potter’s Clay: PC is a ministry that sends around 300 students to Ensenada, Mexico, every spring break for ministry and service. They also participate in a service trip in the fall that includes assistance with Ensenada’s Special Olympics.<br /><br />Spring Break in the City: Exactly what it sounds like. Students go to San Francisco over spring break and serve predominantly in the homeless and AIDS communities.<br /><br />Emmaus Road: ER sends Westmont students on overseas mission trips each summer. Past locations have included Uganda, Ukraine, India, and Japan.<br /><br />As someone who loves college students and has thoroughly enjoyed serving numerous times in Mexico, once in Romania and twice in inner city settings (St. Louis, 2006; Chicago, 2007), this job is pretty much just what I would dream of.<br /><br />I met my student leaders this weekend as we went on a retreat. I’ve had tons to do to get ready and tons to do before school begins next week. In short, I’m super busy, my students are great, and God is so faithful.<br /><br />The process was something only God could have arranged. Funny how things go better that way.<br /><br />The psalms also include declarative praise psalms that tell of God’s response to a lament. Consider me praising.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-22962382027263134602007-07-25T11:24:00.001-07:002007-07-25T11:28:54.351-07:00Left Coast Lament...I feel guilty even posting this, but if lament was a legit expression for the psalmists, who am I to quibble?<br /><br /><br /><em>I’ve wandered down this path you pointed out,<br />asking few questions, trusting you to guide.<br />Now, it seems we’re lost, or,<br />rather, I’m lost and you took off.<br />Where am I? How did I get here?<br />How can I get back to where I should be, wherever that is?<br /><br />You made this trip seem appealing, but it’s sucked.<br />Sure, great weather and all,<br />but so what?<br />Where have you brought me?<br />I know where you brought her;<br />that we can all see clearly.<br />Am I an afterthought? A tag along?<br />Feels like it.<br /><br />I probably shouldn’t blame you, but I do.<br />Hate to admit it, but what’s the use in lying about it?<br /><br />Where have you gone?<br />When are you coming back?<br />Your silence is thick like the fog in the harbor.<br />I hate to hear the nothing,<br />but nothing’s what I’ve got.<br />Nothing but her, and a promise from you.<br /><br />I guess you want me to wait, to trust.<br />Honestly? That sucks.<br />I feel like you owe me.<br />I busted my ass. For what, exactly?<br />A series of rejections? Data entry? Sounds swell.<br /><br />I am proud past arrogant. Disgusting.<br />Show me what you want me to see.<br />Teach me what I didn’t learn in the books.<br />Make me who I need to be.<br />Past faithfulness should create some trust in me.<br />But I’ve only got frustration.<br />Please be faithful now.<br />Please be faithful soon.<br />I hate being<br />lost.</em>benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-88287359469739149092007-07-19T11:13:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:00:16.878-08:00Dancing with the Elephant...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAYPie2RsLWxSDEnuGbwF0NgZqNDzxFglLvoD0lnKgz4IqqXgcaMjLbXqvqgK3G4R_CRWeo0u0KDxYkbFMmB7600oIn6lqSq1jUkU693l3_SyezxIP73rYburc_Fa8ZBwwrVy0DIRh8E6/s1600-h/elephant+in+tutu.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088974631163119666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAYPie2RsLWxSDEnuGbwF0NgZqNDzxFglLvoD0lnKgz4IqqXgcaMjLbXqvqgK3G4R_CRWeo0u0KDxYkbFMmB7600oIn6lqSq1jUkU693l3_SyezxIP73rYburc_Fa8ZBwwrVy0DIRh8E6/s320/elephant+in+tutu.jpg" border="0" /></a>I went to the DMV yesterday. (No, this will not be a DMV rant.) I don’t particularly care for trips to the DMV, but, all things considered, yesterday’s wasn’t too bad.<br /><br />I had to take the written test for renewals. I knew of this test. I chose not to study. I am, after all, simply a native Californian returning home from the front lines of theological conflict. I failed the first time.<br /><br />I missed two questions that I hesitated on and chose against my original instinct. (I know, I know. The original instinct is usually the one to go with. Unless you’re George Costanza, in which case every instinct you’ve ever had is wrong, and, therefore, you should do the opposite.) You can take the test up to three times without paying again. I passed the second one.<br /><br />But it isn’t the test or anything else about the DMV experience itself that causes me to write about it. Rather, the paperwork I filled out previous to my appointment is sticking in my mind.<br /><br />While filling out the paperwork, I made two decisions that caused me a little deliberation (three if you count the question: “Weight?”). The first was whether I wished to register as an organ donor. Ever since Mickey Mantle campaigned for people to become organ donors in the wake of his life-threatening issues in the mid-90s, I had always contemplated it. Yet, there is something totally different about officially designating it on my driver’s license. Facing that blank box, I wrestled with some significant questions. A little glimpse at my fragile psyche as I weighed my options:<br /><br /><em>What if I die and other people get all my pieces? Will they all have to give my parts back to me at the resurrection? If so, will they get stuck with their defective parts again? Could I really do that to someone?</em> (These are the actual concerns that crossed my mind. I couldn’t make this stuff up.)<br /><br />In the end, I concluded that everyone will be okay once they get their glorified body, so I might as well make someone’s life better prior to all that. I checked the “Yes! I want to be an organ donor box” and felt like that was the “pro-life” thing to do.<br /><br />The second question was not as easily resolved. In fact, I’m still thinking about my decision. As I registered to vote, one section asked if I wished to claim affiliation with a political party, and, if I did, which would be my party of choice.<br /><br />Understand, that at almost any other time in my 29 years previous to this moment, I would never have hesitated on this question. Yet, recently, my affiliation with the elephant has caused me a little concern, a little embarrassment, and not a little head shaking.<br /><br />For the first time in my life, I thought seriously about turning my back on the Republicans and checking the “I do not wish to claim affiliation with any political party” box. That would teach them a lesson, right? When the long-time faithful begin turning away, they notice, right? They stop doing stupid and embarrassing stuff, right? As I debated, I envisioned me leaving the party, followed within hours by a pleading, if nearly unintelligible phone call from Governor Schwarzenegger begging me to return. I also envisioned a congratulatory phone call from Michael Moore, a rather chilling thought, to be honest.<br /><br />The choice was tough: does the situation call for me to behave like Luther and break all ties, or like Wesley and seek to be a catalyst for change from within?<br /><br />In the end, I decided I was more Wesley than Luther: I checked the “Republican” box. I concluded four things—See? Luther would have had 95!—that helped me make my decision:<br /><br />1. Nobody in the GOP would notice if I left.<br />2. Since my convictions aren’t determined by party affiliation and I choose to vote my convictions rather than the party line, I wasn’t selling out by staying with the party.<br />3. Remaining in the party, seeking to change it from within, seemed the more honorable thing to do. This party—like Gotham City—is not beyond saving.<br />4. If I switched, what uncomfortable topic could come up at dinner parties that could possibly parallel the tension introduced whenever the divided political affiliations in my home are mentioned?<br /><br />I decided to dance with the one that brought me, no matter how ugly her behavior after we arrived at the dance. Maybe someday I’ll want a different dance partner, but for now I’m content to straighten my bow tie and head back out to the floor. Hopefully soon, she’ll learn a new dance step or two. Maybe I can help.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-77869350147360408582007-07-10T13:48:00.000-07:002007-07-10T14:00:40.112-07:00Wire to Wire Waste of Time...I just got off the phone with my wireless company. Stunning example of customer service and efficiency. Here’s the play-by-play:<br /><br />My cell phone rings. <em>Hmm, 1-800 number.</em><br /><br />Me: “Hello?”<br />Automated voice: “Hello, this is your wireless company, calling about your account. Please return our call at 1-800-…”<br /><em>Why did they just call me only to tell me to call them? This is stupid. Why not just put a person on the phone and then I don’t have to call them back?<br /></em><br />I call the number:<br />Automated voice: “Thank you for calling your wireless company, if you are calling about account number ----------, please press one, if you are calling about a different account number, please enter it now, beginning with the area code.”<br />I press one.<br />Automated voice: “Please enter the account number, beginning with the area code.”<br /><em>But I just pressed one!<br /></em>I enter the account number, beginning with the area code.<br /><br />Automated voice: “Thank you. If you are calling to pay your bill, press one. If you are calling about new services, press two. If you are calling to report a lost or stolen phone, press three. If you are calling to get a report of your available minutes, press four. If you would like to speak to a customer service representative, press five.”<br /><em>I have no idea which number to push! You people called me.<br /></em>I press five.<br /><br />Automated voice: “If you are calling to speak to a customer service representative about a billing error, press one. If you are calling to speak to a customer service representative about payment options, press two. If you are calling to speak to a customer service representative about any other issue, press three.”<br /><em>I don’t know why I’m calling! YOU CALLED ME!<br /></em>I press three.<br /><br />Female voice: “Hello, could I please have the number of the account you are calling about?”<br /><em>I already gave it to you twice!</em><br />Me: “Sure, it’s ----------“<br />Female voice: “Thank you. And I have some security questions for you…”<br /><em>To make sure that the person who returned the phone call you made to me is really me? Are there impostors out there who would gladly go through this inane procedure in my place?<br /></em><br />After the security questions:<br />Female voice: “How can I help you today, sir?”<br />Me: “I have no idea. You called me.”<br />Female voice: “Oh, right. Let me see what that call was regarding. Sometimes the system calls people for various reasons. It says here that you may be eligible for free upgrades to your phone.”<br />Me: “What? We just got these two months ago.”<br />Female voice: “Oh, yes, I see here that you just started your service in April of 2007. In that case, you will be eligible for a free upgrade at the end of 2008.”<br /><em>2008?! YOU CALLED ME ABOUT 2008?!<br /></em>Me: “Okay.”<br />Female voice: “Yeah, it looks like the system called you about the upgrades. Also, your account is current and your bill is up to date.”<br />Me: “Great.”<br />Female voice: “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”<br /><em>I DIDN’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE! YOU WANTED TO TALK TO ME!</em><br />Me: “No.”<br />Female voice: “Well thank you for calling the wireless company and you have a great day.”<br />Me: “Sure thing.”<br /><br />Does that interaction/business model make sense to anyone?benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-5063370547840495682007-06-11T10:33:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:00:17.063-08:00Finally home...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3cpu22tuejncnxlmq_b_Wckyb3Ryp4KePf0Foejvo5dQBSJezfObhRa0h52bfk65K174kFa8ShyAp6vtFJcZUAltMvcxoawrcth7-nVCKBSte6EFFHp3G_1LvCaTcZ0Mgs3t_1F_MEsR/s1600-h/Cali+sign.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074864057743613570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3cpu22tuejncnxlmq_b_Wckyb3Ryp4KePf0Foejvo5dQBSJezfObhRa0h52bfk65K174kFa8ShyAp6vtFJcZUAltMvcxoawrcth7-nVCKBSte6EFFHp3G_1LvCaTcZ0Mgs3t_1F_MEsR/s320/Cali+sign.jpg" border="0" /></a>After three long years, we have finally made it back to the Left Coast, and, let me tell y'all...Cali's never looked better.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Our arrival here signals many things:</div><br /><div></div><div>The completion of two master's degrees (I'm still looking for <a href="http://www.dts.edu/">"His"</a> and <a href="http://www.coba.unt.edu/">"Hers"</a> diploma frames), the acceptance of <a href="http://www.westmont.edu/">one new job</a>, the search for another, the possibility of once again getting <a href="http://www.in-n-out.com/">a fantastic hamburger</a> (Enoch - you're out of your mind. "Somewhere between Whataburger and Krystal"?!?!) All good things.</div><br /><div></div><div>This site will be updated more frequently now that life has returned to normal. Thanks for your patience.</div><div></div><br /><div>As I breathe deeply of the ocean air, I can only blink back tears as I think, "It's good to be home."</div>benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-74327453976260938552007-05-07T14:30:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:00:17.411-08:00Thoughts a Republican thinks when he marries a really cute Democrat...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwhkQouFO79Ak0Lt9GszeakYbQ9NJ6By9Dusndn4PQfQecPJRHHsVOG3yaNGoKbLU7ie8gqNTjPzj6POJ0-nm16xAkXJXJDrfrKZiuGiN6u7HxaP18GSxZwwiUT1S3sHXm96rbvh0m6tv/s1600-h/bumper+sticker.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061941125199079586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px" height="219" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwhkQouFO79Ak0Lt9GszeakYbQ9NJ6By9Dusndn4PQfQecPJRHHsVOG3yaNGoKbLU7ie8gqNTjPzj6POJ0-nm16xAkXJXJDrfrKZiuGiN6u7HxaP18GSxZwwiUT1S3sHXm96rbvh0m6tv/s320/bumper+sticker.jpg" width="320" border="0" /></a>Greta and I used to participate in a small group. This group—filled with bright, young married couples—was a rather eclectic crew. We had Texans, Yankees, mid-westerners, and us, the token left-coasters.<br /><br />One day in group I mentioned how I had seen a funny bumper sticker that week that read, <a href="http://www.cafepress.com/cp/browse/store/turn_left/607243">“Why Care About The Poor When You Can Be A Single-Issue Voter?”</a> One of the members of my group said, “What do you mean?” I proceeded to explain how Christians have ignored concern for the poor while only trumpeting the issue of abortion. This group member then grew animated and began her retort with, “You know what the problem is? We already give too much to the poor.” I shan’t tell you the rest in order to protect the guilty party.<br /><br />I tell this story because I’ve had politics on my mind a lot lately. I would love to see ’08 be the year that Christians finally decide to vote the whole Bible. Certainly, abortion is an important issue, but it’s one of many issues we need to take seriously. The teachings of God’s Word should influence our thinking regarding the poor, peace, the environment, and a host of other “issues.” The whole Bible—not just selected topics—should be on our minds when we go to the polling place.<br /><br />The other night, Greta read an excerpt from Sojourners that mentioned that a few evangelical “leaders” were calling for the removal of the vice president of the National Association of Evangelicals because he was getting behind the fight against global warming and deviating from the apparently pre-approved platform of promoting the family—whatever that means—and the fight against abortion. Could we be a little more well-rounded? These leaders don’t represent my thinking nor my faith. My Bible simply won’t excuse such political myopia.<br /><br />What issues does your faith make important to you?benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-64923600149447154562007-05-02T16:14:00.000-07:002007-05-02T16:23:55.032-07:00The Once and Future Graduate...In an exercise of complete anti-climax, seminary has ended...except for not.<br /><br />My spring semester is over. Since I'm doing the hooded walk on Saturday, May 12, I had to get all my stuff in early. Kinda sucked then, but really nice now, 'cause all I have to do is show for class (a task that has grown shockingly difficult). So, how have I celebrated my new-found freedom? By starting on my work for summer school.<br /><br />See, I get to walk on Saturday and then go to class on Monday. Funny how that happens when you've only finished 117 of the 120 units. I still have to take my last Greek class, which covers Romans.<br /><br />I'm really not in the mood to do school work. Everything around me says, <em>Relax and do nothing for a while. You've really earned it.</em> Everything around me, that is, other than the Greek New Testament I've started lugging around again. It says things I don't feel like translating into English.<br /><br />Somehow, it will get done. It has to. I just don't feel like doing it myself. Maybe it will be easier if I put on my robe and hood and then translate Romans...nope, even harder.<br /><br />In other semi-related news: Getting a job is hard. Swallowing my sizeable ego and being willing to obeidently do whatever job God has in store for me: super difficult. I'll have to update. You know, in all that pseudo-spare time.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-16353563829094527462007-04-16T13:29:00.000-07:002007-04-16T13:30:14.499-07:00Say a prayer...Since we live on a college campus, news like today’s from <a href="http://www.cnn.com/">Virginia Tech</a> hits especially close to home. During our three years at UNT, a handful of students have died. It takes a big enough toll when it happens one at a time. I can’t even begin to imagine what the people in Blacksburg must be experiencing.<br /><br />Senseless.<br /><br />Include Virginia Tech in your prayers.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-51229096020227275192007-04-09T12:32:00.000-07:002007-04-09T12:49:46.320-07:00Weekend in review...<p>We spent Resurrection Weekend in H-Town (that’s Houston for you Yankees and left-coast, hippie tree-huggers). We’d never been down I-45 quite that far, so it was a bit of an exploratory endeavor.</p><p><strong>Some highlights:<br /></strong>On Friday, we slept in before leaving for Houston. This developed into a wonderful theme.</p><p>The <a href="http://www.simon.com/mall/default.aspx?ID=805">Galleria mall</a> was pretty okay. Entirely too expansive and filled with too many “how-the-heck-do-you-pronounce-that-and-what-on-earth-do-they-sell-there” type stores for my taste, but we weren’t there long. Just long enough to get the gist and avoid the coveties.</p><p>We “discovered” a restaurant called the <a href="http://www.grandluxcafe.com/">Grand Lux Café</a>. After driving around for a while on Friday night, we agreed that we would be adventurous and try out the “sketchy looking place that says it serves steak, seafood, pasta, sandwiches and everything in between even though the sign looks like it’s a low-rent Chinese buffet.” Uh, book by its cover? Turns out the joint is owned by <a href="http://www.thecheesecakefactory.com/">Cheesecake Factory</a>—which was, ironically, right across the street—and makes some wicked-good food. And the final ironic touch? There’s one in Dallas and in LA. Maybe we should have known this.</p><p>On Saturday, we slept in.</p><p>We did a little shopping on Saturday. Not so much the American Express variety available at the Galleria, but more of the “this shirt’s only $10!” at Marshall’s variety. Good times.</p><p><a href="http://www.jambajuice.com/">Jamba Juice</a> is good for the soul.</p><p>Saturday also took us to Minute Maid Park, home of the <a href="http://houston.astros.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=hou">Houston Astros</a>. Those of you who have ever sauntered over to my other blog—mistakenly or otherwise—will know that I love baseball. Accordingly, a life goal of mine is to watch a game in all 30 major league cities/stadiums. Having never traveled to Houston during our sojourn in Texas, an Astros game was naturally on the list of things to do in the next 8ish weeks. Let’s just say, it was worth the wait. Not only does the roof close for days when it’s raining—like Saturday—but we got foot-long chili-cheese artery-clogger hot dogs. I love this country! (By the way, if you’re interested, that’s 12 cities/stadiums down.)</p><p>Sunday morning we got up too early—see the lowlight, below—and went out for Easter breakfast before heading over to <a href="http://www.fpchouston.org/public/default.aspx">First Presbyterian Church of Houston</a>. We arrived at church at a time that seemed early, but found a pretty-full parking lot and a past-pretty-full sanctuary. But the shoehorning into a pew and repeatedly sitting on some random Houstonian’s suit coat was a low price to pay for an outstanding service. Any worship service that boldly proclaims the resurrection of our Lord and then closes with a selection from Handel’s <em>Messiah</em> is worth squeezing in for.</p><p>We closed our Easter weekend with a trip to the <a href="http://www.mfah.org/main.asp?target=home">Museum of Fine Arts</a> to see an exhibit of French painters from 1800–1920 on loan from the Met in New York. Think Monet, Pissarro, Cezanne, Manet, Seurat, Picasso, and even a couple of van Goghs, even though he was most certifiably Dutch. (Can’t picture them? Click <a href="http://www.artchive.com/">here</a>.) Simply, wow. Great stuff. We spent nearly two hours in the one exhibit. Seemed like a great museum except for the notable absence of foot-long hot dogs. (Greta was once told that she was the symphony and I was baseball and that such a combo could make for an interesting match. Actually, it makes for a delightful weekend in Houston.)</p><p> </p><p><strong>And now, the sole lowlight:</strong></p><p>The next time we travel, I think I’m going to request the “king-size bed, non-smoking, no freaky, screaming children next door” room. Not a child from the “Smell him. Does he need changing?” category. Rather from the “I told you to turn off <em>Hannah Montana</em> and do your multiplication tables” wing of the elementary school.</p><p>Apparently, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banshee">banshees are real</a> and can reproduce. The child next door to our room—a room with the really unfortunate option of opening a central door to create a suite—screamed lots of things this weekend. Yet, never between the hours of 6:00am and 11:00pm. No, there was too much screaming to do once we had tried to go to sleep or long before any rational person would want to be awake. Each of the outbursts sounded exactly the same, like someone had inhaled helium and then attempted to recite lines from <em>General Hospital</em>. </p><p>At 5:30 on Sunday morning we awoke to a blast from the lunatic-child: “Get out of here!” Either the child’s parents had woken him up or there was an exorcism taking place. Frankly, I’m still not sure which is more likely. Using the same exact pitch and tone of voice, the child further upbraided the demons/parents: “I need some toilet paper! I have to blow my nose! It’s getting all over my hands!” Nothing worse than a mucus-covered imp. </p><p>Finally, with the snot cleared away, the demons/parents must have presented the banshee-child with his Easter outfit. “It’s ugly!” Only a banshee-child could turn “ugly” into a dogs-come-running-five-syllable word. </p><p>To make matters worse, the head demon/father sounded like a Southeast Asian version of <a href="http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Arnold-Schwarzenegger---Predator-Photograph-C10104031.jpeg">Ahnold</a> and felt completely free to yell, “Shut up!” at 5:30 in the morning, presumably because the banshee-child was going to wake the neighbors. I appreciated the thoughtfulness. </p><p>Greta and I laughed about it all day. We’ve also found hours of unexpected enjoyment from randomly yelling, “Get out of here!” in our best banshee-child voice. So, in retrospect, maybe even the lowlight turned out to be a highlight.<br /><br />Banshee sightings? Travel nightmares? Things to do in Texas before we bail? Easter thoughts? Life goals? That’s what the comment link is for.</p>benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-35024856754861330092007-04-04T05:26:00.000-07:002007-04-04T05:31:28.429-07:00Finally finished...After 12 months, I've finally conquered the beast. And it only took 53 pages and 13,000+ words to do it.<br /><br />It feels fantastic to have my thesis done, like someone handed me a "Get-Out-of-Library-Free" card. I'm already enjoying the benefits of more free time and a chance to get work done for other classes on time. An added bonus might just be a reduction in the number of sleepwalking incidents. We'll see.<br /><br />I guess I should start thinking about getting a job for June, now.<br /><br />What about you? What's the big thing you're trying to accomplish?benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-68566947735047667892007-03-14T18:08:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:00:17.831-08:00Joes for Jesus...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfglOATDJOvZJdg0yw_CPe6g-CtHW0nbi4Zu5uifcu0GB3YVDYOa22wuhaSp3CuapIC5hEcII3JAxBoJ8itZoaxAirpUz4n4DonPZYyJI0Ol7IbyVt5VUNunx4U6xVdgJjPSzsfWFLeGCK/s1600-h/lifeline.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041953672307909714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfglOATDJOvZJdg0yw_CPe6g-CtHW0nbi4Zu5uifcu0GB3YVDYOa22wuhaSp3CuapIC5hEcII3JAxBoJ8itZoaxAirpUz4n4DonPZYyJI0Ol7IbyVt5VUNunx4U6xVdgJjPSzsfWFLeGCK/s200/lifeline.gif" border="0" /></a>Growing up, I loved the cartoon <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G.I._Joe:_A_Real_American_Hero_(TV_series)">G.I. Joe</a>. On the screen in front of me strode incredible men and women who represented their country as “Real American Heroes” and who sported sweet nicknames to boot. My mom wasn’t super-fond of the show. She said she didn’t appreciate the violence. I have a sneaking suspicion her dislike stems from her being a girl and all.<br /><br />The funny thing about my mom’s objection was that I took it to heart and exercised constant vigilance in order to find non-violent elements to redeem the show. I undertook this task with solemnity because I recognized the intimate connection between my mother’s approval and my continued ability to partake.<br /><br />In response to her distaste for stylized warfare, I offered up great lines of logic like, “Mom, they’re just shooting lasers, not bullets,” (in my mind, decidedly less violent), and “Mom, the planes never crash from the sky or anything. They just catch on fire and then disappear” (She stumped me on cross-examination: “Disappear to where?”). Then, the show responded for me. At some point a new character was introduced. Someone had watercolored my trump card. Code name: <a href="http://www.myuselessknowledge.com/joe/joeenc.html">Lifeline</a>.<br /><br />Lifeline was the Joe team’s medic. He was the goodest of the good guys. And here’s the best Mom-can’t-argue-with-this part of it: he didn’t carry a gun. Yup, that’s right. Lifeline didn’t pack heat. He said it seemed a little incongruous (I’m sure he used a different word). He couldn’t see how it worked out for him to swear to “do no harm” and then mow folks down like he was in a Scorsese flick.<br /><br />I thought about Lifeline today. I decided that I want to be more like him. Here’s some context.<br /><br />I recently heard someone use warfare imagery to refer to evangelism and service. In fact, the audience was encouraged to adopt a “wartime mentality” and to prepare to “bring back captives.” Granted, these figures of speech stemmed from a larger conversation which I didn’t partake in. I won’t destroy the speaker, since I love and respect him and since the context in which those phrases were first spoken would likely influence my understanding of the snippets I heard. Yet, at its base, there is something disturbing about such terminology.<br /><br />This was my primary critique of John Piper’s <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Let-Nations-Be-Glad-ed/dp/080102613X/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-3609877-7803154?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1173919912&sr=8-1">Let the Nations Be Glad</a>. I thought that he really overplayed the military and war imagery. Before the Piperphiles begin commenting incessantly, let me say that I in no way disagree with Piper’s point about our need to have a passionate desire to see the light of Christ shined in dark places. I totally support mission endeavors to reach the previously unreached. I’m simply saying that I found the military theme a bit distasteful.<br /><br />Perhaps I’m overly sensitive about the fact that young men and women have been going off to a real bullets war for the last couple of years and giving their lives. Perhaps from my post-9/11 perspective, such metaphors just seem hollow. I admit that I read Piper from a different place than that in which he wrote. I know that. I own that. Yet…<br /><br />Here’s the point. Paul certainly never shied away from military imagery. <a href="http://net.bible.org/verse.php?book=Eph&chapter=6&verse=12">Battle is not against flesh and blood</a>. <a href="http://net.bible.org/bible.php?book=Eph&chapter=6#11">Armor of God</a>. I’ve read all that. But, what if Christians are enlisting for the wrong types of jobs? What if my role in the Lord’s Army is not first gunner but rather field medic? What if we’re called to find the wounded—on both sides of the lines—and tend to their wounds with the balm of grace?<br /><br />I have a feeling that those of us who serve the Great Physician have likely been given the duties of medic anyway, even if we didn’t realize it. That doesn’t mean that we don’t address the cause of the wounds. A good field medic not only treats the superficial wounds, but removes the shrapnel that caused the wounds, too. As believers, we must address the spiritual lostness of those around us. But, when someone is lying on the battle field of life, wounded by the malicious weapons of the enemy should we throw another grenade at them or break out the bandages? Me, I’d rather see Christians left and right signing up to be field medics.<br /><br />That’s military imagery I can support. That gets me excited. I guess deep down, I’d really rather be Lifeline than <a href="http://www.myuselessknowledge.com/joe/roadblock.html">Roadblock</a>. I have a feeling that that type of soldier would even make a mother proud. And a Father, too.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197699882859046607.post-35748417534332429062007-03-10T08:09:00.000-08:002008-12-08T19:00:18.032-08:00I would have shared my faith but it was too damn hot...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVc4JTDIVjpnTXJnXa5BFsZ3frq09HTqHTPARnZnYpHVQ89sfn-_XRo9ZbR3ecuFkw6txzQgajOd1WXvUsO8Zy_P1Rj3xSUg9ZymbMjCEwXnNT3-VNxlPmaf4mkmX63K1oTOCMPtxHA8S/s1600-h/positive-proof-global-warming-underwear.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040331089498055746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVc4JTDIVjpnTXJnXa5BFsZ3frq09HTqHTPARnZnYpHVQ89sfn-_XRo9ZbR3ecuFkw6txzQgajOd1WXvUsO8Zy_P1Rj3xSUg9ZymbMjCEwXnNT3-VNxlPmaf4mkmX63K1oTOCMPtxHA8S/s200/positive-proof-global-warming-underwear.jpg" border="0" /></a> The other day I was in a high school classroom that featured a political cartoon taped to the wall. In it, the President addressed global warming. His comforting message? “Sure, the planet's going to get a little warmer. But it won’t feel so bad because you’ll be ankle-deep in water.”<br /><br />Five years ago, who could have anticipated that global warming would develop into the cause du jour? We’ve already got major awards shows that somehow evolve (yes, I can use that word and not worry for my salvation) into extended public service announcements. How long until we see television commercials with has been actresses (I vote for Janeane Garafalo) weeping uncontrollably while they lament the steadily decreasing ski jacket market?<br /><br />The thing is, there are some who refuse to believe that global warming is a real threat. Or even real. That’s cool (ha, a weather joke!) with me. I don’t know if it’s real, and if it is real, I'm not sure it’s man-caused. There are super-scholars on each side who swear up and down that their view is the right one. And far be it from a cat who never took chemistry to trifle with them. If it’s real, okay, if not, okay. But, here’s the thing…some people are telling me I should be more concerned because of my faith.<br /><br />Jerry Falwell recently commented that global warming is more than a hoax, <a href="http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=54413">it’s dangerous </a>that Christians would pay it any heed. Falwell insists that global warming is drawing believers away from the real task of sharing their faith. That to believe that there’s a problem with the environment and take steps to fix it is, somehow, un-Christian. I’d like to nominate willful exploitation of the environment as un-Christian.<br /><br />Falwell’s rant essentially says that to take the steps outlined by the “liberals” is to deviate from our task of evangelism. What if evangelism is more holistic than simply, <em>believe these things and your soul’s good to go</em>? What if environmental care is the strongest sort of evangelism to those with whom our paths rarely cross? In the end, it’s all about what sportscasters like to call “upside.” Let’s play the environmental version of Pascal’s Wager.<br /><br />Let’s imagine for a moment that global warming is real, and we believe it. In response we become more responsible citizens. We reduce, reuse, recycle. We save energy by turning off lights. We drive automobiles that reduce emissions. We become heroes to the next generation.<br /><br />Let’s imagine for a moment that global warming is false, but we believe it’s real. In response we become more responsible citizens. We reduce, reuse, recycle. We save energy by turning off lights. We drive automobiles that reduce emissions. The next generation admires our fervor—misplaced as it was—and they enjoy the benefits of our concern.<br /><br />Let’s imagine for a moment that global warming is false, and we believe it’s false. We respond by continuing to consume non-renewable resources. By wasting energy, oil, and trees, knowing that the weather won’t be affected. The next generation regards us as greedy, self-concerned opportunists.<br /><br />Let’s imagine for a moment that global warming is real, and we believe it’s false. Actually, let’s not.<br /><br />That’s the point here. There is far more to be gained by living as though global warming is a real danger than by living as though it’s not. What Falwell fails to establish is the downside.<br /><br />He asserts that if evangelicals are taken in by global warming, they will be distracted from the task of sharing the gospel. Simply untrue and the problem with “slippery slope” arguments. A Christian driving a hybrid can share their faith just as well as one driving an SUV. And if the person listening is environmentally sensitive, perhaps the Hybrid driver has an even better chance.<br /><br />Falwell sees this as a case of believers being carried away by <a href="http://net.bible.org/verse.php?book=Col&chapter=2&verse=8">empty and deceitful philosophy</a>. I see it as just one way our generation has the opportunity to become <a href="http://net.bible.org/verse.php?book=1Co&chapter=9&verse=22">all things to all people</a>.<br /><br />Scripture insists that someday God is going to remake the heavens and earth. If the broader biblical pattern is any indication, this will not be a “start from scratch” kind of a thing, but a re-creation of what’s already here. Why wouldn’t Christians reflect a similar attitude toward the earth and lead the way in environmental causes? As those created in God’s image, let’s resolve to treat the rest of God’s creation as though He cares about it, too. Because He does.<br /><br />Someday, perhaps we’ll be ankle-deep in blessing.benjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759780311833719424noreply@blogger.com0