NCAA Tournament Paradise: The Dance is Now

This morning is a toast, to the best weekend of the year. We are (in my opinion) amidst the greatest four-day stretch of the sports year. 48 college basketball games in 4 days. Ah, yes. The time to fill out your bracket is passed. Now it's time to sit back and squirm as the mid-major programs upset the big guys over and over and cause you to throw away your bracket just as soon as you filled it out. For those students still in high school, it's time to sneak out of class to find your way into the coach's office to catch 10 minutes of the current game. Take a long bathroom break. Get sick and go home. If you're in college, going to class isn't even an option. Stay in the dorm or fraternity house. Don't get off the couch.

But how in the world can you ever predict a winner in this thing we call "The Dance"? Well, you can't. But here is a guy who thinks he has discovered a formula.

In the end, the one who picks the Final Four teams will be the lady who picked one team due to having a cousin who knew a girl who knew a guy that went to school there, another team because of their cuddly looking mascot, the third team because their jerseys match her favorite color, and the fourth team because she would someday like to visit North Carolina. And this is the kind of person who wins the bracket contest.

For me, I will sit back and hope my beloved Volunteers can find a way to reverse their typical post-season fate and make a run to the Sweet 16.

Claim The Life You Deserve

I read the back of a cereal box yesterday. It decreed in great bold letters, “CLAIM THE LIFE YOU DESERVE.” A picture of healthy, athletic-looking man posing a great big smile stood just under the heading. Good grief, I get all that for buying cereal? It didn’t sit well with me. I almost bought it. Not the cereal, but the message. Its appeal nearly won me over, probably because we have this belief thrown at us all the time. You deserve a great life. I think the power of the message pulls from two ideas: (1) Happiness is the goal of life, and (2) We deserve that goal.

Now the first of these John Piper would agree with, but not in the way that most people would think. Piper’s Christian Hedonism states that we are most filled with joy when God is most glorified, thus both being satisfied in the other. But even then, God being glorified is the goal, not our happiness. But I think we have the tendency to separate the two in responding to the cereal box. Try fasting for a day. I’m amazed at the words my body screams at me when it demands immediate relief. When things are hard with my wife, my mind floats off to something that can make me happier. A small piece of chocolate in the kitchen, a TV show to watch, or tasting beauty in some form. Study yourself. We operate as if gratification is the point.

Most world religions are built on contentment, answering our questions about our obvious brokenness. We think answers will satisfy. Personal contentment seems to be the answer for most people. If they have an answer, the disappointments of life can be numbed. Christianese might even say that we were made to be happy. We say we’re living for another home in heaven, but we act as if God exists to meet our needs and demands here on earth.

Paul clearly explains that we do not deserve to be happy (Romans 3:23, 6:23). Made for it, yes…deserve it, no. Maybe we should begin to see Christianity this side of heaven as not being about contentment, but rather about entering into brokenness. After all, that’s where we are in the Story. And we won’t find redemption and a longing for home until we’ve set aside our demands. Maybe if we did that, then glorifying God would become the goal. And then, maybe then, we would experience the Life we don’t deserve.

I’m going to eat some cereal.

A Salute to You Parents

Sorry I’ve been away for awhile. I’m living in a season right now that demands more action than contemplation. I have some thoughts stirring though. Perhaps I will have time to share them a bit later. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could hit pause on life? It would be like Tivo-life. Probably some pros and cons to that.

Well, in the brief moment I have right now, in between making lunches and breaking up fights, I must commend you parents. My wife and I are baby-sitting our friend’s three kids for three days. Wow. To you parents, I am blown away at the extent you are required to give of your energy and heart. Rest assured, you have become my new heroes. In this period, my approach to the day has changed. It’s like life has forced me to realize that things really aren’t about me. Rather than asking, “What can I receive?” It is now, “What can I give?” Maybe parenthood is one of God’s severe mercies.

To you parents reading, know that if I could, I would buy all of you shiny gold plaques to put on your wall.

Made in China

Is anything other than Ford made in the United States? A quick story. I was talking with a 10 year old the other day and he became convinced that nothing is made in the US. “Luke, everything is made in China.” All the toys he got for Christmas. All the clothes we wear. He finally got up in my face, like he was about to confront me or pick a fight. “Take off your jacket. I guarantee it was made in China.” With unquestioning obedience, I did as told. Sure enough, the tag read, “Made in China.”

Like Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, he drove home his final point: “I bet if you checked behind your ear, it would say, ‘Made in Taiwan.’ ”

An Hour with a Gandalf

If you visit any major airport, you will have plenty of chances to see airplanes ascend into the sky. They are just beginning their journey. For a commercial airliner to accomplish its purpose, it must land at its destination, preferably on time. It must arrive.

I haven’t “arrived” yet. Not in traveling, but in life. It seems that in the back ours minds, there is this hope that one day (this side of heaven) we will fully become who we always dreamed of becoming. We think it will happen once we land that dream job or gain certain recognition or finally begin to offer our energy and time sacrificially in the way we once witnessed our heroes do. They have incredible impact on people. When I have the kind of impact they do, then I will have “arrived.”

With this somewhere in the back of my mind, I sat under a mentor of mine yesterday. I think of him as a spiritual guru. Every white hair on his head is an indication of the wisdom he holds. He knows and understands the heart better than I know the alphabet. We were discussing manhood and a book I had just finished reading, The Wild Man’s Journey. The author, Richard Rohr, conducts “Rites of Passage” retreats, designed to spiritually initiate men into a deeper masculinity. My mentor began telling me about them. Before I could ask any questions or comment, he began talking about applying. Not me applying, but him. He is over 55 years old.

As I left our time together, it hit me. I envision myself “arriving” when I become a guru like him. Then I will be an expert on life. Rather than focusing this last paragraph on my own foolishness, let’s talk about his humility. My attempt to put words to the weight of this man’s life is futile. He could be directing and teaching retreats, speaking to other young men on the process of becoming a man. He could be authoring his own book on initiation and rites of passage. Many people I know would be happy to possess half of his wisdom. Yet, the guru is humble enough to know that there is always something more to learn.

“I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday” –Abraham Lincoln

“When a leader stops learning, his development as a leader ends.” –Howard Hendricks

ADULT XXX

What did you think when you read this title? What moved or happened in your heart? I wrote previously about a road trip Clint and I took. We kept passing these giant Adult billboards and interstate signs as we made our way through Arkansas. You know the ones, advertising a “gentlemen’s bar” and such. I felt something turn inside me when I saw the first sign from a quarter mile away. We sped on by at 70 miles an hour, but I got to thinking about the reaction in me. Upon first sight of the sign, a confidence arose in me. ADULT? That’s me. What happens inside that place is only for the mature, and so I’m mature. Because I am an ADULT. It felt powerful, like I was entitled to something that not everyone was.

I wrestled with my reaction, chastising myself for thinking about such places. Yet what happened in my heart was not necessarily bad; it just was. So I wanted to explore it a bit and get your thoughts. What occurred inside you when you read the blog’s title or when you pass such a billboard? If it is true that we are always in search of Life, in everything we do, what does your reaction say about your yearning for Life?

(I understand that if you are a woman, your reaction is probably different than a man’s, but I would still value your thoughts.)

Air Force's/ Playboy's Michelle Manhart

Before I begin, you must know that I hesitate to reflect on this. I have the utmost respect for those in the military and often think myself unworthy to stand in their presence. This story caught my attention and caused me to ask some questions.

Air Force Sergeant Michelle Manhart recently posed nude for Playboy. The issue will be coming out this week and thus the Air Force’s disgust is making headlines. The whole deal strikes me as paradoxical.

She’s expected to prepare our military, developing physical and mental strength in trainees. When they graduate from her leadership, they should be tougher, more focused, and the archetype of strength. Yet, amidst this, she goes off, poses for Playboy, and thus offers her airmen a chance to throw themselves into weakness. The epitome of weakness for a man is to be captivated by a nude magazine, drawing from the beauty before him and the fantasy in his mind, all without having to offer any of his strength or sacrifice. It feels powerful, yet it saps his strength. It is false.

Aside from the irony in that, I listened to Sergeant Manhart, who I now want to call Michelle, on the news and sought to see her heart in all of this. It strikes me that she is living in an incredibly small story (as we all often do). She has a military job to do in effort to protect you and me. But she abdicates this role for a smaller one on a stage where she is at the spotlight centerfold of things, literally.

Where’s her heart in this and what is its pull? She says,

“This has been a lifelong dream of mine, being in modeling, getting into acting…Growing up and looking into the modeling career field, I thought Playboy is definitely the cream of the crop. Everything about Playboy is just beautiful...Not even for a second do I wish I hadn't done it. I am living out my dream.”

Her longing to be gorgeous is there. And it is valid. The core of her wants to be seen, noticed. Valued and appreciated. But my God, how far have we fallen? Playboy’s skewed version of beauty has become our society’s pinnacle. Indeed the extent of our distortion is revealed in Manhart’s statements. If we are ever going to be restored in our man-heart and woman-heart that God gave us, we will have to recover eyes for real beauty.

Stacey's Left Eye

My friend got together with some people that he had not seen in a long time. Conversation around the corner table at Starbucks naturally turned into an update on each other’s lives. Mary was in the middle of a job change. Ted was still working in the corner office with the large window view. Mercy’s kids were doing great as ever, both excelling in the 3^rd and 6^th grade.

Then Stacey shared. At first, she was able to contain herself. Then her composure began to unravel, and with it, so did everyone else’s. Stacey had grown up with partial blindness in her right eye. As she journeyed into her early 20’s, surgeries on the eye took a turn for the worse, leaving her permanently blind in the right eye. Now years later, she is having trouble seeing out of her left eye. She went in for tests and the report confirmed her fear: she was progressing towards being permanently blind. She faces the same surgery that cost her the sight of her right eye fifteen years ago. Her days are now filled wondering how long she will be able to see the faces of her children.

When Stacey finished telling her story, the listeners, including my friend, sat stunned. Breaking the silence, Ted asked what kind of doctor she was going to see. Mary asked where the surgery would take place. Mercy wanted to know what hospital her first surgeries took place in. Stacey calmly answered, the flow of her tears ceasing more and more with each question.

As my friend related the story to me, I sat amazed. I, too, was taken into Stacey’s story. What also amazes me is that we (human beings) struggle so deeply with our inability to control life. We hate mystery and the unknown. When it comes to life and death and things that matter, we want control. In response to Stacey’s story, her friends responded with concrete questions that had sure answers. A reach to maintain some sort of control. Stacey may never know what her son’s face will look like when he say’s “I do” and kisses his bride. And our instincts are to ask about the names of doctors.

I wish we could just sit in silence and cry. Instead, like Adam and Eve’s arms, we greedily reach for control. God is a mystery. And thus, life is too. How refreshing it might be to enter into the pain of living outside Eden and accept that. Maybe then we would echo in unison Revelation 20:1, “..Come, Lord Jesus!”

The Dull Moments

My blog description above mentions the dull moments of life being a topic. I realize I haven’t done a great job of including those. So here we go.

The weather outside decided to finally turn cold for winter, making it harder to get out of bed each morning. When I finally did today, 40 minutes after my first alarm, I was cold. Because my Nick Saban-like NFL salary of $4.5 million dollars hasn’t come in the mail yet, I do not have one of those showers that sprays you from 6 different angles, assuring that every inch of the body is kept warm for every second of the shower. So, probably like you, I am forced to move around in effort to stay warm. I discovered that keeping my head under the hot water is strategically the best way to stay warm.

Once dressed for work, I ate cereal. The generic brand. It was $0.75 cheaper that the name brand. The milk is halfway gone, if you were wondering. Oh wait, that sounded negative. The milk jug is half-full. It’s also the generic brand.

The drive to work was all about sports talk. Nick Saban again. What an example of integrity for the players he will coach. Huh.

I talked so much at work that my throat hurt. I like talking to you now because you don’t require my voice. It is resting.

Once home, I sat on the couch. Tired and bored. Then I realized it’s Thursday. Do you know what that means!!!???? The Office is on tonight. I love The Office. Brilliant. I haven’t laughed so hard since Dumb and Dumber. I checked nbc.com and found that Dwight K. Schrute has a blog. Crap. Because I am tiring my fingers with you, I missed the first 5 minutes of the show. Here’s Dwight’s blog. Gotta go.

http://blog.nbc.com/DwightsBlog/

Goodbye to Saddam Hussein

Saddam is gone. Amidst all the news coverage, I could not help but be pulled into the whole thing. Every major news paper and website was plastered with pictures of Saddam, a noose, men in black hoods, and cheering mobs. Two images struck me.

Reports say that after an initial struggle, Saddam went calmly to his death. He clutched the Koran as the noose was fitted and he prepared his own heart. I found myself wondering how one could approach such a situation with tranquility. “We are ruled by what we believe, whether it’s true or not,” someone once wrote.

Along with images of Saddam’s death, there were also pictures of applauding and parading people, celebrating the death of a dictator. Who knows how long these parties lasted into the night and weekend. As I imagined it all, I found myself wondering how many people prayed for Saddam’s heart as the rope was being tied.

Now, I don’t claim to know what it was like living under such a tyrant. None of my family members were murdered or tortured at his command. In those last moments though, amidst cheering crowds across the world, a sinful man was about to enter the rest of eternity. However much Saddam deserves his punishment, people must weigh the joys of justice with the somberness of a soul meeting God.

In a world striving for progress, a generation of Christians struggle to live with an eternal perspective. “We are ruled by what we believe, whether it is true or not.” I pray in those last moments that Saddam believed what is true.

(Picture taken from Foxnews.com)

World Trade Center

My wife sent me movie searching yesterday, trying to get me out of the house so she could wrap my Christmas present. So, I headed to Blockbuster. As I walked through the continual shelves of stories, I kept hearing the same repeating music over and over. It was the menu screen from the DVD playing on the store’s TVs. The movie was World Trade Center, a recounting of September 11th. As I checked my movies out and headed for the exit, I could not help but overhear the Blockbuster woman behind the counter, finally realizing that the movie’s menu was on repeat.

“Oh I can’t take this right now.”

As she turned the DVD off, it was not a voice of frustration I heard, but one reflecting the heaviness of life. It was the voice of her heart. I did more than hear it; I felt it. Part of me wanted to scold her for not accepting reality. Another part of me empathized with her. The weight of her heart begged me to ask some questions as I departed: What are we to do with the tragedies that happen in life? How are we to interpret them? In a store such as Blockbuster, filled with happily ever after fairy tales, what are we to conclude about the real disappointments in life?

And yet, calling anything a disappointment implies that there were expectations and hopes for something better. I was reading about a guy named Simon Weil who said there are two things that pierce the heart: beauty and affliction. Clearly my Blockbuster friend was experiencing the latter. At the same time, there are genuine times of realizing beauty. It is strange that we are expected to deal with both of these, sometimes within the same hour. Thinking and reading Curtis and Eldredge brought me to a final conclusion. Dealing with beauty and affliction has everything to do with how you interpret it.

(Ponderings To Be Continued…)

The Most Ironic Christmas Gift of the Year

I was running through Wal-Mart this week, searching for a tree stand when BOOM...right there in the middle of all the Christmas spirit stood the most ironic gift idea of the year: The DaVinci Code on DVD. How about celebrating the birth of Christ with a story set out the disprove that the Christ is even worth celebrating.

Just a thought...