Principled Living Provides Peace and a Sound Footing

As a teen I had no boundaries.  My parents let me get my own subscription to Playboy before I was eighteen.  I had no curfew.  My moms’ only rule was to call and let her know where I was and to provide an ETA.  Some might think this wonderful.  They’d be wrong. 

Up through college I tried working out my own personal guidelines.  I’d found some anchors along the way but an anchor’s no good unless secured.  I wandered a lot.  I tried to figure out my career path without a counselor.  I screwed up many a relationship.  Pride and foolishness caused many a crash; spiritually, relationally and physically.  I got nobody pregnant and I didn’t kill anybody (though I came stupidly close on both accounts).  I didn’t get into drugs.  God kept me from ruin.

Up through the 20’s I was everything but firmly planted.  Boundaries are important.  Principled living guides one’s life along a solid pathway.  Psalm 1 puts it like this, “…He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers.”   As I grew older I discovered key concepts to live by. 

The Bible is the filter through which I find my parameters.  It is the bedrock for every other tenet that I hold to.  In that vein I have some nuggets which keep me on track:

“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him,” which is John Pipers’ summation of all of scripture.  “A ship in a harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for,” a saying which adorned my wall when I was a teen.  A life truly lived means taking chances.  “Let people feel the weight of who you are and let them deal with it,” an Eldredge quote—put simply---be yourself.  Finally that principle taken from Jesus which is that we are to die to self and live for others. 

I view my early years with considerable regret and some personal pain.  Though there was considerable joy and richness of experience there were some serious mistakes whose ripples are still felt.  Now I can run my questions and experiences through a grid that’s not all about me (and I always wish it were less about me).  Now I have sound principles to securely guide my heart and my actions.   A great deal of peace flows from that.

There is some wisdom in hammering out our own guiding principles.  The caveat however is that any principle apart from God will eventually shipwreck us.  Hammering out our own principles is good, ‘working out our salvation with trembling” is better. 

            

Vibrating Senses, Thanks and Coffee

The screaming alarm awakens the senses to the new day.  Each experience contains opportunity for being thankful.  Hearing the morning alarm means my ears are working.  Somehow the sound of the alarm vibrates the air and my ear processes it.  My brain shifts gears.  My mind goes from dreaming to screaming as it processes the sound.  Leaping up from the bed I note the pounding in my chest.  My heart is pumping properly, adrenal glands are functioning quite nicely too.  My feet feel the cold tile as I head toward the coffee pot. 

Making the morning coffee centers me.  I grind the beans until I no longer hear chunks being decimated (ears still working).  The coffee is measured out; cold water is poured into the machine.  I press the switch to begin brewing.  The smell of coffee permeates the kitchen…..

Orange juice is another morning enjoyment.  Drinking orange juice is a three-dimensional delight for me.  There is the sweet taste and the feel of pulp on the tongue.  I realize too that there is a memory component.  Drinking good orange juice I remember great breakfasts out; such as sitting on the Omelette Parlor (or the Summerland Beach Café) patio with a view of the ocean.  I think back on late nights at a friends house during college; where grabbing a glass of orange juice before driving home became ritual.  Then too there were the Alta Dena milk-man deliveries in Thousand Oaks; where we’d get fresh milk and fresh-squeezed orange juice right to our doorstep.

The body and all my senses react as I open the front door with one hand while the other holds a hot white mug.  The heat from the cup contrasts the blast of cold as I walk to my car in brisk morning.  My eyes take in the stars; light against the still-dark sky.  I set the cup on the dashboard.  Steam clouds the window.  Starting the car and grasping cup in hand I leave morning behind me and head off to face another day.

Resolutions From the Wrong Side of 50

 A friend refers to my age as, “The wrong side of 50.”  I’m closer to retirement (or worse) than I am to college.  I can think of only one friend that has a father still living.  Of those that have moms still alive most are at an age where leaving the house is an adventure.  So I wonder if the resolutions I make this year should be different than those of previous years.

There are key areas to focus on—save and simplify, live and enjoy, grow and improve.  Retirement, if it comes, will be a challenge.  Wisdom and financial gurus tell us to have a sizeable chunk of change in the bank.  This is cause for anxiety.  Life has thrown me a number of curves which drastically impacted savings.  Still one flesh always wants more, more and more.   The calmer voice of the spirit tells one to slow down and simplify.

Life is less about accomplishing things.  I’m in the season of enjoying things.  More free time is important.  I want to enjoy friends more.  I want to sit out on my wood porch and read.  This life season will be one of simplification. 

There is a tension in setting these goals.  I want to live a great story.  I wish to explore and travel with my wife.  The saving of money and the simple lifestyle slam up against these other goals and pull in two directions.  The setting of goals helps in making judgments. 

There is a constant wrestling.  For in sitting on my porch and reading I enjoy a glass of wine or cup of coffee.  These beverages enhance my enjoyment of life but impact my pocketbook---tension again. 

My father grew sedentary after retirement.  This is what killed him.  Some goals shouldn’t change.  I will continue to bicycle even seeking to improve my speed.  I will do at least one 75 miler.  I will discover new music.  I will try new restaurants.  I will celebrate travel with my wife.  I will keep moving. 

I’ve finished the hors d’oeuvres and I’m into the main course.  I’m going to savor and enjoy it before desert comes.  Then I’ll excuse myself and go for a walk.

“We are not now that strength which in old daysMoved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;One equal temper of heroic hearts,Made weak by time and fate, but strong in willTo strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

Vagabonds With Sticky Feet

“So show your love for the alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt,” so writes God when giving the law to Israel.  Peter changes it up a little in the new testament, addressing his letter to ‘aliens and strangers.’  The word vagabond carries the same idea. Webster defines vagabond as one that goes from place to place without a fixed home.  The funny part is that Christians have a fixed home—but not here.  The Christian has a home in heaven.  In our body and skin we get stuck here and lose sight of our ‘fixed’ residence.  The alien gets stuck to the earth; call it vaga-bonding if you will.

We have sticky feet with toes like Gollum that cling to this earthly soil.  That’s the curse of our flesh.  Peter tells his readers to ‘abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul.”  “Unstick your feet,” is what he’s saying.  Which is incredibly hard.

We live in this solid, visual, tactile world and it certainly feels like home.  Most of the time.  It’s like Turkish Delight in Narnia, 

“Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves. But she did not offer him any more.”

 We go on and on trying to sate our stomachs with what we see with our eyes.  We’re supposed to focus on what we don’t see though---to walk by faith and not by sight.  So hard though to taste Heaven.  So difficult to be satisfied in Christ.  It’s a struggle, it’s a war to choose to walk in those things that are true but unseen and turn from what we can strike with our hands.

To make the tension all the worse there are those connections we have with humanity.  These are good, solid, God created relationships.  It is good to love one’s wife, to find joy in one’s child, to smile when you connect with another human being.  Who hasn’t felt the security and affirming love in a real hug?  It’s like you could stay in that embrace forever—like going home.

One gets the idea that this life is all about the tasting but not about being full and satisfied.  We are told to ‘taste and see that God is good.’  We are fed on tales of a Promised Land which is far off.  Then Peter tells us about “an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven.”  Until then we wander as aliens walking in the tactile and  looking forward to that which will truly feed both senses

NaNoWriMo- 3 Things I Learned

“Like a body rising to the surface from great watery depths so Kendall began to wake up,” is one of my favorite lines I wrote for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year.  The challenge is to write a small novel, 50,000 words or greater.  I wrote 25,000 words; my first attempt at a lengthy story.  My novella is called, “The Making of Clay,” and it follows Clay and his wife Kendall through a character arc involving fracking, kidnapping, OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), guns, drugging, and a small deli.  In the process of writing for NaNoWriMo I learned (at least) 3 things.

           

Writing is hard work.  It’s a cliché for a reason.  On the one hand the process is engaging, engrossing, challenging and soul-stirring.  The meat of the process involves hammering out a story with plot, characters and setting---all that stuff we learned about in elementary school.  For myself that part of the process was the most difficult.  For example at one point I had all the characters established along with how they were connected to each other.  The problem was that the storyline necessitated them coming together.  I wrestled for days before I came up with a device that would motivate them to be in the same place at the same time.

My appreciation for professional writers greatly increased in this process.  As did my questions about how they write.  In a tome of say six-hundred pages; such as a Ken Follett novel,  do the writers keep a chart of characters physical traits: eye color, type of lips, body shape?  Do they map out intersections that characters will go through?  I can’t comprehend that they would keep all that info in their head. 

           

Anything can be found on the internet.  I investigated wheat farming and found that much of the world’s wheat is produced in China.  I researched rape drugs (ala Bill Cosby) and even found sites that described the best way to kick open a door.  A believable story involves some aspect of research whether it be via interview or internet. 

“The most important thing about art is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying. (Steven Pressfield, The War of Art).”  My daughter said to me, “Dad, I feel like you and Glenn (a close friend) always choose these high goals and then you don’t finish them!”  The point I told her is to have the goal and go for it.  The sad thing would be to never dream the dream or set the lofty goal.  This process reaffirmed for me that anybody can write the novel, travel the world or paint the painting.  The problem is that most people don’t do the work.

I will participate in  NaNoWriMo again next year.  I’m shooting for 50,000 words.  I’ll dig in on November 1^st and push hard til the 30^th.  It was a disciplined challenge.  The process and fruit of the process were well worth it.  I’m already wrestling with story ideas.  The process continues---the work goes on.

            “This is the other secret that real artists know and wannabe writers don’t. When we sit down each day and do our work, power concentrates around us. The Muse takes note of our dedication. She approves. We have earned favor in her sight. When we sit down and work, we become like a magnetized rod that attracts iron filings. Ideas come. Insights accrete.” ---Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles

           

           

            

Like An Asbestos Blanket Covers Flame

I’m swimming in a pool of dark

People who've lost their way,

Or never knew how to find it.

We bump into each other,

You say I bumped into you,

You throw words and fist my direction.

Jesus said we shine,

Lights in a perverse generation,

I feel your darkness, my darkness,

Quenching light,

Like an asbestos blanket covers flame.

Can’t count the ways we've parted with principle,

Walked away from preserving life,

Choosing self-preservation,

Not realizing it’s not a stand at all,

It’s a fall,

At least that’s what theologians call it.

Saving self seems worthwhile,

A busted life preserver,

Principles not fleshed out

Preserver without air,

Whitewashed sepulcher like a zombie with make-up on.

We come full circle,

We find our life by losing it,

Strength to stand because we’re already dead.

Riches in broken clay,

He shines and sets souls on fire,

Saving bodies from drowning,

As in the days of Noah,

This time we get on board.

Maintaining Joy: The Tools In My Toolbox

“Maintaining the joy of faith in the face of horrific evil does not hap­pen by coasting. It happens by conquering.” —John Piper, Spectacular Sins and Their Global Purpose in the Glory of Christ

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!”—Philippians

Joy is not consistently found upon waking up.  Most think that joy is a natural occurrence in the same way that ‘being in love’ on your first date should feel the same as ‘being in love’ after ten years of marriage.  Neither occurs without a determined decision. 

The way feelings work is counter-intuitive.  Larry Crabb delineates a process by which we arrive at our feelings: fact, faith, feelings.  We believe a fact.  We take that fact by faith.  Our feelings follow.  The process involves disciplined thinking wherein we choose to believe the truly right thing. 

Feelings are simply framed by perception.  I’ve found it helpful to define problems in terms of first world or third world problems (h/t GB).  Some weeks ago our washing machine stopped its agitating only to agitate us.  For many throughout the rest of the world the amount of clean water we use to wash clothes would provide basic healthy sustenance.  Framing the problem correctly keeps me from becoming anxious over my first world problems.

Work’s been a wearying battle lately.  The current trend in retail is to demand more from the employees while providing less for customers.  This frustrates me.  Learning to lead others stretches me outside my comfort zone.  I try leading with gentleness and patience.  Some days I lead well.  On others I let people down.  The wrong perspective would easily lead me into destructive behaviour.

I remind myself that God is in control.  He has the view from eternity.  I quote Spurgeon to myself,

 "The man who has got Christ has got everything. There are all things in one in Christ Jesus, and if you once get him you are rich to all the intents of bliss. What, have Jesus Christ, and be discontented? Have Christ and murmur? Beloved, let me chide you gently, and pray you to lay aside that evil habit. If you have Christ, then you have God the Father to be your protector, and God the Spirit to be your comforter. You have present things working together for your good, and future things to unravel your happier portion; you have angels to be your servitors both on earth and in heaven. You have all the wheels of Providence revolving for your benefit; you have the stones of the field in league with you; you have your daily trials sanctified to your benefit; and you have your earthly joys hinged from their doors and hallowed with a blessing; your gains and your losses are alike profitable to you; your additions and your diminutions shall alike swell the tide of your soul's satisfaction…”

In understanding that God has a greater purpose I realign myself with joy.

At the end of the day there is one other significant weapon in the arsenal.  Find friend or family to make you laugh.  On most days my close friends (and I include my wife among these) help restore perspective.  One person I know is fond of saying, “Tell me what I would tell you if the roles were reversed.”  Positive relationships keep us from being overwhelmed by closed thinking and thoughts only of self.

Maintaining joy is work.  It’s not always as easy as singing “The Sun will come up tomorrow.”  It’s a daily decision to hunker down and keep fighting.  The song in the night will be worth it when it comes---but it won’t come if you’re not engaged mentally.

A Wash In Trouble

I’m thinking I should stay far from flowing water.  Today should have been an easy drive into work.  There were no signs indicating otherwise.  That’s the problem actually.  There were no signs.  There were none of the usual signs indicating a road closure. There was no blockade telling drivers to “Stop.”  So I kept driving. 

I had a hunch that the pelting rain on top of the pass would create some flooding on the plain.  So I wasn’t surprised to hit some wet sand and immediately a patch of water.  No problem navigating those.  My brain lit up in the same millisecond the headlights fixed on water coursing across the highway.  It was too late to do anything but continue driving straight---through water, mud, rocks and sticks all swept down the wash as water sought a place to rest.  I breathed a sigh of relief as I came out the other side.  The indicator light began to flash on and off-a tire was losing air pressure. 

The wife and I were visiting her brother-in-law for vacation.  Her brother is an avid outdoorsman, kayaker, rafter and water-guy who encouraged me to take a rafting trip on a section of easy water.  I’d spent some hours kayaking and canoeing in the past (in novice situations) and had never had any trouble.  In Boy Scouting we’d canoed down a portion of the Colorado River with no issues.  “Piece of cake,” I thought.  As anybody knows, rafting is completely different than kayaking.  It’s awkward, there’s no great place to rest your feet and little security to keep one in the vessel. 

The bro-in-law gave me a quick (all you’ll ever need to know about rafting in two minutes) course in rafting.  Three of us took the boat to the water and began paddling downstream.  Somewhere between the shouting of a direction and the practice of my stroke I moved my foot again—seeking comfort and foothold.  That second the raft went up and so did I.  I flew out of the raft and began floating over rock and wood while trying to get my head about me.  Finally I was pulled into the raft; flesh slightly damaged, ego suffering significantly.

The bruises my flesh sustained on that rafting trip are almost gone.  I’m certain I suffered an ingrown toenail as a result of the pounding; and the blood-blister under my fingernail is almost gone.  As for today’s adventure, the tire lost air due to a damaged rim.  The rim was easily repaired and the tire remained intact.  Still all these things are causing me to think about water anew.  I’m thinking about water in a new light-the light of photographing it from afar.  I’m running from running water and sticking to lakes and swimming pools—with lifeguards on duty.

The Danger of Hero Worship

We Christians easily engage in hero worship.  We enjoy a rock singer, a disc jockey or a preacher and we put them on a pedestal.  I suspect that’s one reason Brant Hansen gave up his gig.  I suspect he felt he was becoming the focus of worship and not the Christ he served.  That too is the reason God didn’t plop Moses into a cemetery grave---He did not want the Lawgiver worshipped.  That too is why Calvin chose an unmarked tomb.  If you want to read his works you can, but if you want to pay respects to his body you’re out of luck.  Fortunately I don’t have to worry about being anybody’s’ hero.

To quote Mercy Me, “I’m not saying follow me; I’m not the one who leads…”  I just share life hoping we can walk alongside each other and be encouraged.  Take today for example.  Management changed the schedule I wrote and shorted me a person.  It’s a more complex situation than that but today that was the case.  It frustrates the heck out of me to work in a customer service position and not be able to provide good service.  I spent a chunk of my day wrestling with anger and flip flopping from thought to thought.  I prayed for a good attitude, I prayed to walk in the Holy Spirit and I prayed for those who are persecuted for righteousness in other countries.  Then I’d flip into anger and quote Psalm 58:10 which speaks of God’s vengeance.  So hero I’m not.

The thing about hero worship is that it’s usually make believe.  We place perfect people in little alcoves for worship and there are no perfect people.  Our real worship needs to be God directed.  That means being real with who we are.  We wrestle to be better.  Certainly we can emulate, after all Paul said, “Follow me for I follow Christ.”  God has never been satisfied with the worship of clay idols in place of Himself.  “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves…”

Family, Dinner and the Dissolution of Americana

A yellow Formica table is the focus of numerous frames in the movie, The Bridges of Madison County.  The table, a slice of Americana, says to the viewer, “In a normal family, normal people, in normal times; there’d be talk and laughing around me.”  Today in our homes the kitchen table is no longer the center of meal times. Life isn't shared there; bread isn't broken.

Is there magic in a couple or a family sitting around the table at meal times?  For children and teenagers the statistics are solid, according to a number of reports issued by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University (CASA), children who eat at least five times a week with their family are at lower risk of developing poor eating habits, weight problems or alcohol and substance dependencies, and tend to perform better academically than their peers who frequently eat alone or away from home. Beyond that the blessing comes in connecting.

Growing up I ate dinner around a round white Formica table in a kitchen with walls painted orange (hey, it was the 60’s).  Mom fixed dinner then served my sister and me.  I don’t remember my dad joining us—ever.  When I got older the home routine ended so I began showing up for dinner regularly at my best friends’ house.  He was one of four children and his mom prepared terrific dinners.  Their dad was always home for dinner.  These were rich times of sharing, laughter (lots of laughter) and significant connection.  That family has stayed strongly connected through all these years.  Mine---not so much.

A quick aside here regarding technology.  Part of the rich ritual of gathering for dinner is that of talking.  So it doesn’t count if everybody is at the table with their own devices, downloading their apps and updating their own Twitter feed.  It’s about relating while eating.

The Formica table holds its rightful place in the belly of the home, in the center of the kitchen.  Strong relationship and deep bonds are formed here over food.  Granted it’s not a magic formula.  I’m certain families that eat together crash and burn.  Still, the families I know that eat dinner together are the ones strongest together.