May 06, 2007
May 03, 2007
Dwight K. Schrute
Dwight K. Schrute. Formerly “Assistant to the Regional Manager,” now “Assistant Regional Manager.” I wish we all lived more like The Office’s Dwight. (You Office fans take note that I said more) Thursday reminded me of this. Weirdness and quirkiness aside, Dwight gives us an image of someone completely sold out for a larger story. Without a bigger drama to live in, we will become like Stanley or Phyllis, just trying to pay the bills. Regardless of the situations and circumstances, boring as they might be in an office of cubicles, Dwight is alive.
Last night, Phyllis enters the office in shock, having been flashed in the parking lot. Not a split second later, Dwight bolts down there to save the day. The entire episode is spent tracing the culprit. Weeks back, a disgruntled Roy came to make war against Jim for kissing Pam months earlier. As he violently approaches Jim, Dwight steps in with pepper spray to halt Roy’s assault. Then Dwight fiercely explains that his decision to keep the spray in his desk for eight straight years finally paid off. We then discover he stores knunchucks and throwing stars in the top left drawer of his desk, just in case.
There was the time Pam sent him a top secret note from the FBI, telling him he had been selected for a covert mission. We last see him waiting for a chopter on the roof of a building and eventually destroying his phone after being “compromised.” Dwight becomes a volunteer sheriff when traces of illegal drugs are found. When Jim tricks him into believing he is a vampire (evidence enough of Dwight’s imagination), Dwight prepares a crucifix out of a broomstick.
Everything is a conspiracy. He is always ready for battle. There’s a simple and dramatic solution to everything. Something always requires his advice, bravery, or expertise. After all, he has the heroic legacy of the Schrute family line to uphold. Odd as it sounds and hate it as you might, we all need a little Dwight in our own story.April 07, 2007
Jesus...The Man
Jesus. What images form in your head at the mention of his name? I was reading in John this morning, attempting to send my heart into Easter mode. I confess it doesn’t always get there. I wanted to enter into the defeat of what it must have been like to see Jesus slaughtered and buried. I came away in awe, not about the loss of hope, but instead about the man Jesus was. I don’t mean man as in God in human form, but the kind of man that would be bragged about sitting around a campfire or in a locker room. Stud. Warrior. Hero.
In chapter 18, John describes in detail the arrest in the garden.
Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, "Whom do you seek?" (John 18:4, ESV, italics mine)
Compare this example to the first man in another garden. When the Enemy slithers in, Adam doesn’t know what’s going on. He is not in control. He is there, but without a hoe or shovel in hand. He makes no move to act or speak. He is silent. He is weak. He does not protect Eve, but lets her take the fall. He is the definition of self-protection. He shows no strength, and the chaos overwhelms him.
Now my heart is ready to celebrate. Adam is not the defining sculpt of a man. I meet, see, and am Adam everyday. My heart longs for Jesus. Oh to be in the care of such a King. Adam is ruled by chaos. Jesus rules over the chaos. Thank God. Jesus of
For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:21-22, ESV)
April 02, 2007
One Shining Moment...NCAA Final Four 2007
I just returned from the Final Four in
During timeouts, I found myself quite star-struck, standing up to scan the rows of faces all around me, looking for the next famous smile. It really was almost as fun as watching basketball. As I was caught up in the hoops hysteria, a C.S. Lewis quotation flashed across my mind.
There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinners--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat, the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.
There are no ordinary people. If we were to really see deep inside the soul of the man who takes our money at the concession stand or the girl with the yellow “Event Staff” jacket who stands to check my ticket, we would be tempted to worship. They are made in the image of God. We already worship people, but only certain ones. The people listed in the beginning are worshiped by ESPN viewers on a weekly basis, especially from the months of October to March. It’s madness, not March, but the power we give people. I was star-struck, but it both lessened and increased as I talked to the man next to me. Steve is in the barbeque business and he likes to ride motorcycles. He hopes
Kristi McLelland sat four rows behind me. You probably don’t know her. Neither did 55,000 others at the Georgia Dome Saturday night. But if they did, they would have pointed at her with greater excitement than I looked at Jim Boeheim, Tom Izzo, and John Calipari. Kristi writes and disciples. She is a woman in whom the Spirit of God dwells. She knows the Word deeply and affects the lives of many people in her church. God uses her mightily and she reflects his image fiercely.
I had tickets to Monday’s championship game, but I can’t make it. Instead I am going to listen to the stories of some of my friends. Our time may not be broadcasted on CBS, but I will be in the midst of glorious immortals. Together we will journey, to enter into each other’s “immortal horrors” and “everlasting splendors,” hoping to find and see God better. And, hard as it might be to grasp, it will surpass experiencing One Shining Moment.
March 28, 2007
To Face a Wasp
The sweet noises are returning. Birds. Crickets. Children’s laughter and bouncing balls down on the cul-de-sac. Praise God. The reality of redemption from the death of winter is happening. I was out on the deck enjoying it all when I heard it. That familiar buzzing sound was back, too. Looking up, the fierce little devil swooped by me on a Top Gun fly-by mission. A wasp, stinger fresh and ready, just waiting. The universal reaction flashed across my mind, “Protect yourself!” Two seconds later, the safety of the indoors surrounded me.
I think relationships work much like this. They begin beautifully, or maybe politely. Small talk, a few laughs, and an invitation to keep relating. At some point though, in each friendship, we feel threatened. It might be due our own condemning voice within, or it could be a subtle threat from the other person. Either way, our instincts are the same: Self-Protection. Self-Preservation. Don't get hurt, or exposed. As quickly as I jump to escape the threatening hornet, I flee the tension of a relationship to guard the fearful places. Only an invitation of love and safety draws me back out.
We are meant to encourage one another daily. If we don’t do so, the concrete of sin will set and the patterns of self-protection will harden. Sin will then both define our personality and our way of handling the uncertainty and struggle for life. We are meant to be stirred daily to love and good deeds. Without that, the good food of our soul will settle to the bottom of the pot and burn.
I think you are tempted to relate to others much in the same way as me. Which means that others are too. I want to learn from this pattern, which means learning to invite others out with the encouragement that Allender suggests (above). After all, Crabb says, “Beneath every style of relating, and beneath every controversial exchange, is an energy that reflects either our fallenness or our redemption.” Too often it’s the former. It’s time to dream about the latter, which is instead self-less.
Woo and love someone out of self-protection today with invitation.
March 23, 2007
Wanting More than Food
Knowing the cook can be an even greater pleasure than enjoying his food.
-Larry Crabb, Finding God
Regardless of a person’s circumstances and physical well-being, this statement applies. Of course there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the food. But knowing and tasting God is the point. How quickly I forget. For the most part, God exists and becomes a help in solving problems. A resource to notify when pain needs to be taken away. Much like a doctor who prescribes medication.
Listen to your prayers throughout the day. Are they centered on “God, this situation is hard, help me clear it up and get through it,” or “God, I don’t know what to do and the pain is real. Help me to trust that you are good regardless of what the outcome is”? When in pain or struggle, I tend to approach someone older and wiser in an attempt to have my pain cured or problem solved. Just get me through this and stop the hurt. How many counselors make their living off situations like these?
We all desire Life. Jesus promises it (John 10:10). It just doesn’t happen the way we want it to. My God, how maddening. The chaos of life threatens our homes built on the sand. How sweet of a resting place it would be to experience the following story:
You and I walk into a 5-star restaurant. Before we can give the host our name and table preference, she welcomes us by name, tells us the chef has already notified her of our arrival, and she brings us to our seats. The menu given to us is personally tailored to each of our tastes. As we look over the choices, our mouths salivating and our stomachs growling, we suddenly realize the food is not why the restaurant was built. Setting the menus down, and skipping the wine, we head towards the kitchen, this time it’s our hearts that ache. Before we even reach the doors, they swing open and the cook is running our way.
Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!
Psalm 34:8
March 20, 2007
Seeing Life as a Story
In The Way of the Wild Heart, Eldredge writes, "That is why any of the great stories stay with us- they are trying to speak to us about something crucial to life." A significant question. One that I know about because of experience. Ever so important, as (quoted earlier in the book), Norman Maclean wrote, "The nearest anyone can come to finding himself at any given age is to find a story that somehow tells him about himself."
What are the stories that speak to and sustain you? What are the dramas that open your eyes to your own experience in this Meta-narrative?
A very few of mine...A River Runs Through It, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Henry V, We Were Soldiers, and The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (believe it or not, the old PBS version caught my heart first).
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