Ides of March

Spent yesterday afternoon watching the NFC Championship Game with many long-time Seattle fans.  What a thrill to be in a city that has a potential Super Bowl title on the horizon!  I have closely followed the Seahawks since marrying a Hawks fan, but my closest loyalties remain with the loveable Colts.  After being inconsolable after last week’s game, I rejoiced that I still have another team that I like in the hunt for a title.  I even wore my Payton Manning jersey yesterday, partly in mourning, partly in the general spirit of football and partly because it was blue. 

As the game progressed toward the Seahawks’ victory, a question crossed my mind:  What will Seattle-ites, especially Hawks fans, do with their cynicism should their “fiesty blue jackals” win the Super Bowl?  Seattle fans have spent this season wavering along the continuum of cynicism, incredulity and confidence, depending on what time of day you talk to them.  Cynicism seems to fit the Pacific Northwest so well, but could it by only a thin veneer of discontent?  Time will tell.  Go Hawks!!

“I fought the flaw and the flaw won.” 

This little gem, a remix from the hit song by the Bobby Fuller Four, spilled out of my mouth as I was singing along at the local Starbucks yesterday morning.  It has interesting connotations when considering our own efforts to”fight sin” in our lives and the potential futility of that effort.  Of course, then there is a discussion as to whether sin is synonymous with flaw.  Either way, I was laughing.

“Maybe I will tell you some time when I can tell and you want to hear.”

“I’ll want to hear,” Samuel said.  “I eat stories like grapes.”

I’ve been dining on John Steinbeck’s East of Eden lately.  These lines were part of an exchange between Adam Trask and Samuel Hamilton in the novel.  This man, birthed in Steinbeck’s mind and experience, Samuel Hamilton has become another mentor of mine in my quest to develop as a psychotherapist.  I aspire to crave and eat stories like grapes, just as he does.

Truthiness

The American Dialect Society recently released its list of words of the year which included the word “truthiness” which garnered top honors.  “Truthiness” refers to the quality of preferring concepts or facts one wishes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true.  There are many other interesting, hilarious and forgettable words on their list.  It’s worth a look.

Andy

A few reflections on the recent celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  Thoughts came across my mind about the difference between the legend, the myth and the reality of Dr. King. 

I think one of the main focus points of the celebration of the KIng holiday is around the legend of Dr. King.  We celebrate his wise and inspiring words, especially those from the 1963 speech at the Lincoln Memorial.  We celebrate his tireless efforts in the struggle for civil rights.  We marvel at the impact of his presence and the energy of the movement that coalesced around him.  Dr. King is an icon. 

Fused within the collective understanding of Dr. King there is a great deal of myth.  King’s greatest moments are combined to create a singular portrait, one that ignores the complexity of his life.  It is as if we have elevated Dr. King to super-human status.  I wonder about this being rooted in the way our culture tends to treat heroes, especially those that are assassinated.  Life stories are often crystallized into one theme or meaning.  The greatest moments of Dr. King’s life are highlighted and rightly celebrated.  And, at times the history of Dr. King and the Civil Rights is told in such a way that nuance of his life and the times is missed.  I recently viewed a documentary “Citizen King” on PBS and was made privy to Dr. King’s exhaustion at the height of the movement, his own developing understanding of racism in the United States, the struggles for leadership and influence within the Civil Rights Movement.  During 67-68, King questioned his own continuing involvement in the movement and planned to scale back his participation.  Many within the African-American community disagreed with King.  These sub-plots were all co-existent with the greater events we are more familiar with.

Even as we celebrate King’s vision and tell and retell his legend (as it is a towering story), we would do well to find out more about the life which carried and formed that vision—the reality.  Dr. King’s flesh and blood existence are as much a part of our celebration as his vision.  And we can only interact with our world and take that vision forward within the confines of our own flesh and blood reality.  If Dr. King could speak back to us about our celebrations, his interest would not be in his portrayal but in how our lives are impacted and how we impact others.

With the “controversy” surrounding what to say in Christmas cards, what to call Christmas trees and the general irritation with all things Yule, the unity evidenced in remembering the late Dr. King is inspiring.  Could it be that the unity experienced in our society and the action called out of us as we gather to celebrate Dr. King is more about Christ than the manner in which Christmas is celebrated?

Andy

For those interested in a further look into Dr. King’s life, I would recommend The Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute at Stanford University.  Located here are a full collection of Dr. King’s papers as well as many audio clips of him.

How high’s the water, mama?
Five feet high and risin’
How high’s the water, papa?
Five feet high and risin’

Well, the rails are washed out north of town
We gotta head for higher ground
We can’t come back till the water comes down,
Five feet high and risin’

Johnny Cash “Five feet high and risin’”

Twenty-six consecutive days of rain in the Seattle area have us all thinking in Noah-esque terms these days.  Mudslides have shut down commuter trains and continue to wash out roads, undermine houses and erode hillsides everywhere.  Even as I write there are stories of new mudslides on the news and the governor’s declaring 12 counties as disaster areas.  Each time I go home I combat the notion that Seattle is necessarily a rainy or wet area.  I recite the fact that New York City recieves more rain than Seattle in an average year.  But, the last month is conforming more to legend than fact.

Andy

I’m so tired of Christians being known for what they’re against. 

One of my goals is to take evangelicals back a century, to the 19th century.  That was a time of muscular Christianity that cared about every aspect of life.

Rick Warren

Ran across an interesting article in the Kansas City Star interviewing Rick Warren.  I took the above quotes from the article and have lately had similar thoughts rolling through my head (moreso the first quote than the second).  He went on to comment on the need for social action in the church especially in the realm of poverty, AIDS and illiteracy.  I find it exciting to hear an evangelical voice that has such a wide sphere of influence to be discussing such things.  I heard about a month ago a short bit with he and his wife talking about the need for the evangelical Church to confess that they had missed the boat on AIDS and to serve those with AIDS, not just internationally, but domestically.  I have not kept up with his views over time and have not read his books, but there seems to be a fire lit under him on such issues.

I am not sure that a return to a “muscular” Christianity is what is in store.  That picture would definitely make more headlines and Jesus would get more credit.  And I wonder about one man wanting to steer an entire movement in a certain direction, even if I like that direction.  Looking ahead, I foresee a more ameoba-like Church is much more flat structurally and more fluid in its action.  Rather than weighing in as the muscular giant that throws its respective weight (money, power) around, the Church would be in the trenches via the hearts and hands of believers heeding the call to identify with the marginalized. 

I genuinely believe that the Church is on the back end of a long period of power.  We are most likely not moving into an era of greater power, as measure by collective clout in society, but  more likely a time that will call for a devolution of power.  Nonetheless, as the gaze of this prominent evangelical turns to the marginalized, my hope is stirred.

Andy

Andrea and I gathered with a group of fellow travelers in faith at QUEST last evening.  We have journeyed with these folks over the last year and a half, but the last several months has seen our participation lag.  Also, our community has scaled back to meeting monthly this fall and winter and allowing space for growth of other communities.  Thus, I had not seen several of the folks there in months and others only in passing.

As we arrived and begin conversing with others, so many fresh stories and so much amazing news was echoing around Dwight and Lynnette’s kitchen and living room.  One friend is developing a counseling practice to work with musicians, bands and families of musicians.  She also sent her daughter off to her second semester of college.  We learned that two couples had gotten engaged since we last knew anything.  Many people had fresh tales, some wonderful and some sad, of visiting families back home over Christmas.  Another friend recently returned from spending two weeks in New Orleans engaging in crisis counseling with hurricane victims.  The room was positively alive and bursting with stories.

The battery in my watch was slowly dying.  I had noticed this fact awhile back but had not acted beyond noting to myself that a new battery would be a good idea.  My watch acts as my alarm clock and my method to track my occasional insomnia throughout a night.  I woke up several mornings and realized that when I pressed the indiglo button the greenish light would come on but the digital numbers would fade.  Not to be deterred, I found a certain angle I could hold the watch at and still make out the time.  A temporary victory.

The next level of battery deadness was reached when I set a timer alarm for something in the oven.  When the chime rang, it dinged twice and then the entire watch went blank.  However,  few seconds later it restarted itself with the time reset to 12:00 AM.  I made a mental note to reset my watch to the correct time and went about eating lunch.  Later, I looked at a clock to set the time and realized that my watch had gone dead at exactly noon, so the digital numbers still read correct (minus the AM/PM discrepancy).  Another moment facilitating my procrastination.

I finally, though, resolved that I would change the battery.  After inspecting the back of my watch and gauging the relative difficulty (and lack of tools for the task) of replacing my battery, I decided to consult a jeweler.  This move of actually paying someone to change the battery in my watch is not something I do on a regular basis nor would this impress my frugal father or father-in-law.  Nonetheless, I saw watch repair advertised at one of the jewelers at the mall so I headed in.  The saleslady asked what I needed and disappeared to retrieve the watch repairman.  He in turn took my watch and disappeared into the back room.

After a few minutes of half-interested shopping, I went to the back desk and asked about the watch.  At that moment, the repairman emerged from the back and handed me my watch and went to grab the bill.  I looked down at the face of my watch and was amazed.  Not only were the numbers more crisp and brighter then they had been in months, but the indiglo shone like the mid-day sun (or at least a small greenish facsimile).  Even more amazing was the absence of scratches on the lens of the watch.  I should mention that my watch face takes a beating and shows it with many scratches and dings.  But, it looked brand new.  I had not seen my watch with this much clarity since the day I took it out of it’s box.

I asked the man if he had buffed the watch–he said that whenever he gets watches of this type of watch face he just goes ahead and buffs it while he’s working on it.  I was amazed and more appreciative than he could have imagined.  Even now, a few weeks later, I stare at my watch and enjoy its new look.  This man’s few minutes of work on my watch literally gave it new life.  I think about this and wonder where else in my life I have scratched lenses–and who might I run into that would have just what is needed (that I don’t possess) to buff them out?  In the same vein, where in me has bright light dimmed?  Are any of us aware of just how bright we can be, how much glory is housed within us?

Andy

Well, I’ve been wanting to begin a blog for quite awhile, occasionally thought of interesting things to write and almost written something several times.  But, somehow, actually posting words onto the web has been a difficult task.  I’ve agonized over starting this blog.  And now, here are some words.

My hope is to put some of my thoughts and observations into words.  Dwight Friesen (friend/professor/pastor) mentioned once that he is not sure he believes something until he writes it down and others interact with it.  I also hope that others will interact and share their thoughts.  Another hope is to “virtually” gather the hearts and minds of people that I care for that are scattered at the present time.  So, may this all amount to something.

My wife and I are just back from what was, on the whole, a great trip to the Midwest for the holidays.  After having been out in the country and engaging in a slower pace of life, I am resistant to jumping back into the faster-paced urbanity of the Seattle area.  It may take a few days of laying around the house to steady myself.  Some favorite moments of mine from the trip:

• Watching my baby sister hit 3 three-pointers in the first quarter and lead her varsity basketball team to a great victory
• Stopping by the building where we were married and reminiscing with my wife on our 3rd anniversary
• Laughing as my friend runs through the house with one of his daughters on his back and sings the Bonanza theme song
• Seeing the stunned looks on my parents faces when they realized that I had folded some of the laundry when we stayed at their house
• Reading the novel Kite Runner
• Admiring my sister’s resolve to train for and run the Indy Mini in May

Well, thus ends my first blog entry.

Andy