Duckabush Blog: Philosophy Archives

Mechanical Failures

We’ve had what seems to be a run of mechanical failures in our home lately. This is the kind of thing that holds a special terror for someone like me, who can count successful machine repair projects in my lifetime on one hand.

First the hot tub developed a leak. Next, the last reliable burner on our stove stopped being, er, reliable. Then the fireplace stopped working. The garage door opener disengaged from the ceiling. The power on one side of our garage went dead. Our septic tank began pooling wastewater across the front lawn. Most recently, our microwave started to randomly turn itself off and on Sunday the hot water started leaking water across the garage floor and under the carpet, at a rate of a gallon an hour.

Daniel likes to get involved in repair projects, having inherited skills from both his Grandpas, which seemed to skip a generation.

It is enough to make one wonder about being a homeowner. Maybe we didn’t get such a good deal on this house, after all … especially considering the pressing need for a new roof.

The curious thing is that most of these problems turned out to be a tempest in a teapot. As I wrote in my last entry, the hot tub only leaks when the circulating motor is off … we’re supposed to keep it turned on, anyway, so no harm, no foul. I bought Kathy a new stove to replace the old one – she really likes it, and the old one was free with the house, so we can’t really gripe. After I messed around with the fireplace for an embarrassingly long time, I discovered that the pilot light was off; I lit the pilot, and we were back in business. Twenty minutes’ work and a new metal strap fixed the garage door opener. The power problem in the garage was due to a tripped GFI breaker that simply needed to be reset. The septic tank was backed up because someone (probably me) had inadvertently turned off the power switch to the grinder (a machine that pre-processes our sewage before it enters the city sewer system). The microwave is probably really broken, but, hey, it is one that I bought in 1989 before I met Kathy, so we are probably due to get another one.

Sometimes, you just have to buy a new appliance. This was one of those times.

The hot water heater seemed at the outset to be a serious problem. I called the local Lowe’s store to see about getting a new hot water heater put in, and discovered that recent legislation in our town requires a complete rework of the ducting system for gas water heaters. “It could cost you a couple of thousand before you’re done,” warned the man in the plumbing department, with a worrisome indifference to exactly how many ‘thousands’.

Calling Home Depot for a second opinion, their plumbing guy wanted to know exactly where it was leaking. On closer inspection, I found that the water intake hose was leaking and the fix cost me $12 and about a half-hour of work, to my considerable delight.

This little girl didn't really help with the project, but she's photogenic, so we put her in.

I think a lot of trials and troubles in life are like these mechanical problems – when we first see them, we’re inclined to expect the worst and to forget about God’s provision and protection. But often when we face them, we find that they can be easily and somewhat painlessly resolved, with God’s hand leading us.

Let me give credit where it is due: in most if not all of the cases I listed, the positive outcome is rooted in the fact that we prayed and committed the problem to God. I think that God delights in answering our prayers and in providing for us in surprising ways. I don’t think we’ve prayed about the microwave yet, but it is clearly time that we did. Time and again I’ve seen God’s gracious hand in protecting our family from financial loss – I think it is directly attributable to the fact that we ask for His help in troubles like these, and that we are obedient in terms of tithing.

David loves wearing boots, even if it involves septic systems.

Sometimes we let ourselves be paralyzed by fear. When the power went out in the garage, I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m hardly an electrician – and I know that they don’t come cheaply. The wall along which the circuit presumably ran is obstructed by a long storage shelf packed with stuff – it would be non-trivial to even begin looking at the problem. I let at least a week go by before I investigated the problem; it took me less than five minutes to move a few games and discover an outlet behind the storage shelf with a GFI fuse that was popped out. Hailed by the family as a hero, I felt pretty stupid.

Granted, this was a pretty sloppy repair, but it seems to be holding, so we're happy.

Last night we were reading about the crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites, and Rachel asked me why Moses had to hold his staff (or hand? I can't remember) over the water. It seems to me that God enjoys our participation in the things He does. He doesn't want us to sit idly waiting for Him to do it all for us, but rather desires us to step out in faith and action. That's not to say that Moses could go around making paths in random bodies of water without God, but rather that God allows His children to be intimate with His miraculous power and builds our faith my giving us a personal ringside seat.

Blend Ministry

Recently I was asked to come in to work to help with a project that hoped to launch on the following day. Ordinarily, I am off on Mondays, working longer days the remainder of the week to compensate. But on this particular occasion the need is great, and so I rode the train with an unusually tired and grumpy crowd, no doubt exhausted from the festivities.

I must admit, the weekend seemed awfully short to me, accustomed as I am to luxurious three-day weekends. I squandered much of Saturday playing a new computer game that Kathy bought me for Father’s Day, and then the Burts came to stay with us for games and pizza (which was a lot of fun, even if I didn’t win Settlers of Catan. I did manage to sneak in an hour or two of building shelves in the garage, which pleases Kathy.

Several Sundays ago was our church picnic, at which I had planned to provide smoothies; it was a busy day. Our church rented a nearby elementary school field and had the entire service (and subsequent picnic) outside. It was a fun event – the skies were cloudy and temperatures cool until almost the exact best moment – once the service was over and lunch began, the clouds burned off like magic. I was reminded of the famous hymn It Is Well With My Soul, which refers to the return of our Lord, in which the line “… the clouds are rolled back like a scroll.” All my worries that my blends would not be wanted evaporated like the morning mist; by the time we had our tables and blenders set up, a crowd had already formed, and we were off. I estimate we served between 350 and 400 blends to our church family (some were repeat customers) over the course of the following three hours – Greg and Tina joined in like old professionals and Kathy (who usually eschews mass-production) even got in on the fun, running one of the Mocha Granita production lines in her own cheerful style.

I had to nip out twice (once for more ice and the second time for more milk) as the demand outpaced my supplies. I have never before provided smoothies for more than 120 people – this event really stretched my capacity to the limit. The next day my legs were aching from standing behind that table and from walking (and sometimes running) back and forth to the car with supplies – but I must say that it was all very much worth it. For one reason or another God has wired me so that I enjoy making blends for other people, even strangers; it turns out that I really enjoy making blends for large numbers of other people.

For those who could not attend this gala celebration, or who somehow missed the smoothie table, I offer this consolation: it isn’t too late to go buy a smoothie machine and carry on this important blend ministry your home town. Here’s what you’ll need:

1. A smoothie machine. I recommend the Smoothie Elite manufactured by Back to Basics – on sale for about $37 at your local Wal-Mart, Target or Costco. The key thing is for your blender to have a spigot so that you don’t have to pour out the smoothie – for mass-production, the spigot is critical. These machines also have a stir stick that is carefully designed to reach nearly to the bottom without actually hitting the blades. It is very helpful in producing a smooth, even consistency across the entire blend, so you don’t get customers comparing their blends unfavorably.
2. Choose one (or at most two) recipes. I generally do a Mocha Granita and a Strawberry-Lemonade Blend, recipes below. It can be nice to have a separate blender for each recipe, unless you want to do a lot of washing when you could be blending.
3. Purchase an ample amount of the proper supplies. You’ll need:
   • Ice (and probably a cooler, unless you plan to use it all quickly)
   • Power (these babies don’t run on batteries)
   • Water or milk, depending on your recipe
   • Dry (and frozen) ingredients
   • Cups
   • Lids (or you can always hire a carpet cleaner)
   • Straws
   • Flavorings
   • Optional: cardboard drink carriers for ease in delivery
4. Find some customers – you’ll want to set up in a well-trafficked place but where the noise of your blender(s) won’t annoy. The Smoothie Elite machines are surprisingly loud when initially crushing the ice.
5. A marketing strategy. I have rigidly adhered to the “Smoothies Should Be Free” slogan (and philosophy) for my blend ministry, but you may wish to place a “Donations” cup at your Blend Booth if you want to defray the cost of ingredients or raise support for some other worthy cause. As soon as you charge money, I suspect you cross the line into requiring a business license and certification by your local food safety health inspector types. Don’t look here for actual legal advice, though.

I estimate that it costs between $0.25 and $0.35 (not counting labor) to make a 12-ounce blend or smoothie, when you factor in the cost of the cups, lids, straws and ingredients (not to mention the occasional blender that dies). Considering that most people would pay at least a dollar for one of these blends, this means that for every blend you create you are tripling or quadrupling the utility of your money (in Micro-Economics terms). On a hot day you may see this factor double or even triple – I have been told by many that my Mocha Granitas are comparable to Espresso-booth products purchased for $2 and $3. For some reason, even though I never charge money, I get a lot of vicarious enjoyment out of all those people who drink my blends.

Smoothie Recipes:

Mocha Granita

Fill the blender up about half way (between 24 and 32 oz, depending on your blender model) with milk. I use skim milk when I make these for myself, and 1% or 2% when I am making them for other people. I’ve never had anyone complain about this.

Add three scoops of Nestle Quik mixture using the large scoop provided in the Costco-sized Quik container.

Add three large scoops of Frappe Freeze Mocha mix (available at Costco, usually near the coffee) using the same scoop you used for the Quik.

Add ice until the blender is full (but not overflowing).

Add coffee syrups (I personally prefer Hazelnut) or a healthy squirt of some Java chocolate syrup (in case it isn’t already strong or sweet enough).

Put the top back on the blender, and ensure the stir-stick is firmly centered in the hole in the top of the blender. This is a critical step unless you want to repaint your ceiling (or so I’ve heard).

Blend and stir until nearly smooth (noise of ice chopping sound should level off).

Serves 4 twelve-ounce blends with a little left over for the chef.

Strawberry Mandarin Lemonade Delight

Fill the blender about half way with water.
Add in six to eight (depending on how sweet you like it) small scoops of Smuckers Strawberry Lemonade mix, using the scoop provided in the Costco-sized container.

Add in six to eight large frozen strawberries.

Add in a half-can of Mandarin oranges (or the whole can, if you prefer).

Fill the blender with ice (but not overflowing).

Put the top back on the blender, and ensure the stir-stick is firmly centered in the hole in the top of the blender. This is a critical step unless you want to repaint your ceiling (you’d think this would be self-evident, but even master blenders make mistakes, or so I’ve heard).

Blend and stir until nearly smooth (noise of ice chopping sound should level off).

Serves 4 twelve-ounce blends with a little left over for the chef.

Tricks and Tips

Sometimes you will get a little carried away with your liquid and dry ingredients, leaving insufficient room at the top of the blender for ice. In such cases, simply bleed off a cup of the liquid from the bottom, making more room for ice at the top. Then pour the liquid in at the top once you’ve dispensed enough blend to make room for it.

Sometimes you get a little carried away with the ice, and your blend will barely ooze out of the spigot while your customers tap their feet impatiently. Simply pour an extra cup of water or milk (whichever was the base of your original blend recipe) and your smoothie will loosen up nicely.

Never try to get the last drop out of your blender until it really is your last blend. Let the last half-cup of the blender roll over into the next batch – this will save wear and tear on your blender.

If you have a large crowd, consider using eight- or nine-ounce cups instead of twelve- or sixteen-ounce cups. I haven’t found the smaller cups with lids, though, so only do this when you are outside. I use plastic cups, but you could probably go with paper without any trouble. Blends don’t store very well at room temperature, anyway.

On really hot days I tend to make my blends with more ice and water and less sweet ingredients. In cooler weather I will sometimes add a flavored yogurt, tending more toward the creamy, frothy consistency. Blends don’t move well on cold days, although I can usually find customers for the milk-based Mocha Granitas year-round.

I have never yet failed to find lots of eager hands to distribute smoothies when my customers are dispersed – kids of all ages seem to love to be the bearer of blends. It is helpful to have those cardboard drink carriers (like you get at a fast-food drive-in) – they can be had in bulk for about five cents apiece, and are reusable for several iterations, depending on the person carrying them. As far as I know, they do actually deliver the blends, although a couple of times I have wondered about this.

Ingredients are always a problem – it is very hard to estimate the amount of each that you will require, especially when making blends for large numbers of people. I try to err on the side of having too much, but sometimes I still don’t have enough. One way to insure against disaster in blend-making is to have a bunch of frozen concentrates around. Then if you run out of one ingredient or another, you can always throw in a concentrate. I really like the Raspberry Lemonade concentrates – they have saved my bacon (so to speak) more than once.

Some blend purveyors prefer to sport some form of recognizable headgear – I traditionally sport an attractive beaver cap and operate under the pseudonym “Boris Brainfreeze”. This should not be attempted, however, by those lacking my (admittedly intimidating) combination of panache, majesty, dignity, distinction, and savoir faire. It isn’t such a good idea on a really hot day, either.

Sometimes people tease me about taking blending so seriously, especially when they see me packing in all my supplies, ice, ingredients and blenders (it is not unusual for me to fill the back of my little station wagon). “It’s just a blend, dude!” they will say (as if a smoothie were not an end in itself). There are those smug seminarians who will try to tell you that smoothie-making is not really a spiritual gift. Some will decry the cost of the ingredients and will even mock the sacred “Smoothies Should Be Free” philosophy, as if blends and vulgar cash could mix. And of course, in every large crowd there will be Philistines who do not appreciate the subtle flavor of your best blend offering, who will callously leave full blends to melt forlornly on a picnic table. Do not go gently into that smoothie-less dark night. Resist such nay-sayers and keep cranking out the blends. For every jealous sidewalk detractor there will spring up ten young disciples. Admittedly, some will probably fall by the wayside, and a few may settle for being pastors, evangelists and missionaries. But in the end a few hardy souls will persevere to the lofty height of Master Blender.

It is said that when the new city of Jerusalem is established, that a river will flow out from under the throne of God, along which will grow the tree of life. This tree will bear twelve distinct fruits according to the season. It all seems tailor-made to me – you have high-quality water and heavenly fruit; all that is lacking is ice. I’m thinking that the position of God’s personal blend-maker is still open and I can set up shop along the side of the river. It reminds me of James and John, and how they asked to sit at the right and left of Jesus, when he comes into His glory. I hope the other blenders of the world don’t get mad at me.

A Bad Deed

My older children read my recent “Pantless in Seattle” blog entry and found it wanting. “It wasn't very funny,” they said.

You would think that, with all of Seattle to choose from, I would have little difficulty in finding humorous content. But, then, maybe the problem is with me. It is true that I tend toward dry and sardonic humor rather than slapstick comedy – I can see how my children would find that disappointing.

The makers of Jelly Belly candies are marketing a new candy-coated chocolate that they call “JBs” -- a recent radio commercial suggests that a lot of fun things could be even more fun. They propose a birthday party on a roller coaster (you hear the voice of an anguished boy shouting, “My presents!” over the clank and roar of a roller coaster, suggesting the havoc that centrifugal force and gravity would play on a birthday party). They also suggest adding clowns to baseball games, which I think would probably liven-up an otherwise boring sport, especially with the Mariners in last place.

“It's a line drive, off Crazy Tom at third base, picked up by the shortstop ... who gets a pie in the face from Laughing Larry Briskin!” says the announcer. The world could definitely use more slapstick.

But sometimes life is not so funny, especially when there is sin involved. Yesterday I was a little late leaving the house, and hence was driving a little more aggressively than I usually do. Exiting the highway at Poulsbo, I roared around the left-turning traffic in the right lane (legal, but not at the speed I was traveling) and cut in front of a small red sedan in time to make my subsequent left turn at the next traffic light. My reckless antics did not go unnoticed – the two men in the red sedan were shaking their heads, and the motorcycle cop in the oncoming traffic gave me a few seconds of close attention.

My relief that the motorcycle policeman did not turn around was short-lived – soon I became aware that the red sedan was following me to my bus stop. As I parked, I reflected on the fact that I much prefer my reckless driving to be kept on an anonymous level – I'd rather not be held to account by a real flesh & blood person. I sighed, and walked over to the red car to apologize. The passenger, who I now recognized as a fellow-commuter, looked particularly disgusted. He dismissed my excuse about being in a hurry to catch the bus: “You had five minutes to spare.” After renewing my apologies (this time without an excuse) they grudgingly forgave me. As I walked away, they mentioned that my left front tire was nearly flat (having had a recent opportunity to observe it at close quarters).

This is the bus that I ride. I didn't think the guys I cut off would appreciate having their picture taken.

I am not a very observant person. How long would it have taken me to notice that something was amiss with not one, but both of my front tires? I suspect that, had I not apologized, those men would not (in a passive-aggressive sort of justice) have mentioned anything about my tire. Where would I have been, when one or both of those tires finally gave up the ghost? In the evening the car was still (barely) driveable and I was able to limp to a filling station and fill the tires long enough to get to Costco, where I had them both replaced.

When I was in the Army, I acquired this motto: “No good deed ever goes unpunished.” I have found this to be nearly true – many “good deeds” result in negative consequences, sometimes from surprising sources. While this line of thinking is a bit on the cynical side, I find it helpful to consider the likely cost of a good deed in advance, not allowing that cost to discourage me unduly. My Dad even lettered it on a small plaque for me, and it hangs on the wall above my desk. But it would seem that I have overlooked a possible corollary, “No bad deed is unforgiveable.”

Of course, this is only possible within the context of the grace of God and the forgiveness available through the blood of His Son, Jesus Christ. If you don't love God, and if you haven't accepted Jesus as your Savior, then your bad deeds are, indeed, unforgiven (along with your so-called good deeds). If you find yourself in that case, I recommend you repair that condition immediately – write to me and I'll be glad to tell you how.

The moral of the story is twofold: 1) always apologize quickly, and 2) God's power is able to turn a bad deed into a good outcome.

Time is on my side

This summer the weather has been horrible. Usually we can count on a good bit of rain, and clouds are the rule, rather than the exception during the months of May and June. It often remains cool, as well – a day that reaches 60 degrees Fahrenheit is considered warm. We don't usually make any plans that require good weather until after the July 4th weekend, during which it often rains.

Since May we have faced an unremitting monotony of warm, sunny days. Oh, there have been a few cloudy days, and there was one promising stretch where it looked as though the rain might settle in, but that passed all too quickly and the sunshine returned.

(This is not actually the pool I bought. It is the kiddie pool, now three years old.)

What's a guy to do? I finally broke down and bought a pool for my children, even though the shade around our home and the deep chill of our well-water don't promote comfortable swimming conditions. A visiting missionary-in-training and I whipped up a solar heating system for it (it is important to keep those missionary-types busy) and the kids are often able to enjoy the pool for whole minutes at a time, at least once they break up the ice and chase away the penguins.

Last summer I was unemployed (or self-employed, depending on how you look at it) and I was able to squeeze every last drop of sunshine out of a nearly cloudless season. But this year I'm working in the city, and am confined to a small cubicle deep in the bowels of a former hospital, bathed in unattractive fluorescent light. As midsummer's day approached, I began to resent the blue skies and bright sun, often only experiencing the sunrise and sunset on a given day. Each day seemed a priceless treasure that was sinking uselessly into the past, exchanged for the dubious privilege of scratching out a living wage in support of my family.

This is the new pool. The penguins said their agent didn't permit pictures without compensation.

Then one day it came to me as I listened to a song on the local Christian radio station. I don't know the name of the song, but the words (sung to God) go like this:

If I know you, and I think I do, you'll turn this day into a perfect surprise.

I remembered that I am not a finite being, nor am I limited to a finite number of deep blue skies. However many days I spend (or even waste) in this life, I have an unlimited number of better days to enjoy to the full in heaven. I had been thinking as though this life was all there was – and it changed my perspective when I began to think in terms of the spiritual reality I enjoy. The real tragedy is not in losing this day in terms of personal gratification or material gain – it is in making this day spiritually useless. If I work all day in a way that honors and obeys God's current will for me, then the day is surely redeemed. God promises that He will return a hundred-fold anything that we give up for Him. Call me greedy, but I'm hoping for a lot more than 100 blue-sky days in exchange for each of these that I am missing.

This kind of thinking changes the way that you protect your time from the depredations of others, and makes you more available to minister. I can afford to help you move to a new house, or can take the time to listen to your troubles, because I am on the eve of a permanent vacation in the best of resorts with all the people I love most.

For many people, the days and weeks before a long vacation can be very stressful. There are projects to be handed over, e-mails to be sent out, details to nail down. But with respect to Eternity, when God calls me home, I can go right away! There is nothing in particular that I have to accomplish between now and when I go to be with Jesus – the hard work has already been done. Without minimizing my responsibilities in this life or my desire to qualify for the very best beach cabana, I'm mostly just hanging around until my vacation begins.

I missed the shuttle to the ferry dock today, and then the next ferry was late arriving. Just now, they have announced that the other ferry is late leaving the Bainbridge terminal, and so we are further delayed. No doubt the express bus will have gone, and I'll be even longer getting to my car. And of course I'm low on gas, so I'll have to stop on my way home. All this means that instead of getting home at 7:30, I'll probably walk through that door just before 9:00 – just time enough to check my e-mail and post this blog entry before I head for bed at 10:00 pm.

Ha. I just got home at 9:20 – there was construction on the bridge to top it all off – I lost another 35 minutes. But for some reason I don't mind. The sun is still shining, and my family seems to be doing OK even though I'm rarely home. Whether I'm killed on the way home tonight or live to be 95, these days will seem like a passing shadow compared to the millenia I will spend in Heaven with my Lord. I hope to see you there!

Morning Grumpiness

When I was in the Army, my barracks roommate for more than 2 years was a Christian man from Dallas, Texas, named Jimmy-T Goodson. We were very well-matched, as roommates, not least because of our common dislike for life as enlisted men in the Army. He is a remarkable person in many ways, and I remember him very fondly as a dear brother.

Each morning, as he swung his legs out of bed and his feet would slap the tile of the floor, he would say: “I hate the Army.” Each evening, as he pulled the covers up to his chin, he would conclude, “I hate the Army.” It was a daily ritual that brought, in a strange way, a considerable satisfaction to both of our lives. Some days he said it casually, in an offhand manner; other times (especially Monday mornings) he spoke with deep conviction. But in the 700-odd days we shared a room, I don't remember him ever failing to say those words.

I hate getting up early in the morning. I strongly prefer to wake between 8 and 9, whenever possible (not so easy with 5 children). In order to catch the appropriate bus, ferry & shuttle and be in my office by 9:00, I rise and get in the shower according to the 5:42 and 5:47 am alarms set on my bedside clock. Yesterday, as my feet hit the floor at 5:46, I thought to myself, “I hate my life.”

Some time later, as I drove along route 101 in the bright morning sunshine, I listened to the morning radio show, featuring an appeal for support of the Union Gospel Mission, an outreach to homeless people in Seattle. Every ten minutes or so they played a short vignette about one of the people who had been down and out, and was reached by the Mission program. I started thinking (again) about all the blessings that I enjoy, and I felt a little ashamed of my ungrateful thoughts.

I started thinking about other times I have worked early-morning jobs, not only in the Army, and about how life was for me then. I suddenly remembered what it was like to be single and how much of my time and focus was spent looking for someone I could love, who would love me. I remember times (especially when I was in the Army) when I seriously wondered if I would ever find such a person. I talked to my geraniums and wrote bad poetry and listened to gloomy music – it was a little pathetic, in retrospect.

As a man, I tend to be achievement-oriented – it is easy to fall into the error of viewing a wife and a family as 'possessions' or 'milestones met'. I was reminded of the rare and beautiful preciousness of my Kathy and her deep and abiding love for me. I remembered the times we have (even now, with my grueling work & commuting schedule) to talk, be silly and enjoy each other. I am proud of the continuing godliness of my five children, who depend on my work for food and shelter (clothing they mostly get from Mamie). I revel in the time I have to enjoy my home and the valley where I live, if only on weekends.

I guess I don't hate my life, after all. It is hard for night-owls to see the good in the world at 5:46 in the morning. Perhaps the lesson in all of this is to avoid philosophy until I've had my first Diet Coke of the day.

Thankfulness

Today is a bright, sunny and potentially warm day, and I have much for which to be thankful. It is probably time to make a list, in no particular order:

• I am married to the most beautiful, fun, cheerful, kind and interesting woman that I have been able to find on the planet, and she really seems to love me!
• I have five delightful, godly children, three of whom have already trusted Jesus with their hearts.
• My oldest son is well on his way to becoming a man of God.
• My oldest daughter has a passion for truth and righteousness.
• My middle son is always seeking an opportunity to help.
• My youngest son patterns kindness to his little sister.
• My youngest daughter is obedient and loves to laugh.
• All of my children are healthy, happy, and seem to be developing well.
• I own a home (well, perhaps 1/4 of a home) in a beautiful, remote mountain valley.
• I have a new job that provides challenge to my mind.
• My brain is capable of complex thought and is adept at making sense of a large amount of information.
• I have a number of good friends.
• My health is reasonably good.
• I am able to move and walk and see and hear and taste and feel and (when allergy season is over) smell.
• I don't have any significant chronic pain.
• I have hope -- a firm expectation that God will take care of me in this life and that He will raise me up to live with Him forever, after I die.
• I have the complete Bible, that helps me know how to live in a way that pleases God.
• I am capable of enjoying beauty, like the Olympic mountains looming over the ferry terminal as I leave Bainbridge.
• I have good relationships with my parents and my wife's parents.
• God loves me. He wants the very best for me.
• I am being conformed to the personality of Jesus.
• My wife is willing to stay home and homeschool our children.
• I have a fresh new haircut.
• Apart from what I owe on my house, I have hardly any debt.
• I have the opportunity to begin attending a fun new church.
• My wife and I have built good communication skills and a strong, healthy marriage.
• I am able to find much to laugh about in life.
• I have a car that has not (yet) failed to get me to and from the bus stop.

I could probably go on and on. Strange how easy it is to forget the good things and concentrate on the negative -- give me a severe toothache and I'll tell you that life isn't worth living.

After I got out of the Army, I foolishly joined the National Guard, under the misguided impression that the State of Virginia would help to pay off some of my student loans. For reasons best known to the State, that financial assistance never materialized -- but I was assigned to an artillery unit just outside of Richmond. One weekend in the middle of a Fall semester at William and Mary, I was called out on a field exercise. We spent Friday & Saturday nights out in the woods. Due to poor planning, we were provided with no equipment except our field jackets. It was unseasonably cold that weekend -- I spent most of both nights pacing around the forest and shivering. When I got back to the dorms, I wanted nothing but a long, hot shower.

Before I left for the field exercise, I had been deeply worried about several papers and exams I had in the near future. Spending a few nights laying on the cold, damp ground, really brought my life back into perspective. If you have food, clothing, and shelter, you're well ahead of many and you probably have enough to be happy, if only for a little while.

I think a big part of contentment is thankfulness -- I feel much more content just having written this blog entry. :)

Broken

It seems a little anticlimactic for me to write this now, when so much has happened in my life since I thought these thoughts. But I think it is important to reflect on where I was a month ago, to better understand where I am now and where I will be heading in the future.

Our family traveled to Michigan to attend the 25th anniversary celebration of Trinity Evangelical Presbyterian Church, pastored by my father-in-law. We stayed there for 18 days, and I encountered between 30 and 40 old friends who had been praying for me regarding my search for a job. As I related the same story to each successive person, I found myself becoming strangely prone to tears, as the frustration and pain of 17 months of unemployment was thus verbally exposed.

I am a sentimental person; I regularly tear-up during annual viewings of "It's a Wonderful Life" or any movie that displays deep loyalty or selflessness. But I am not given (my parents' memories/opinion to the contrary) to excessive self-pity. It was very strange for me to lack control over my emotional equilibrium. I felt baffled and frustrated by God's handling of my life. It seemed to me that I was being broken by God.

Intellectually, I know that God's love for me burns so brightly, extends so deeply, that He wants me to enjoy an intimate relationship with Him, exclusive of other loves. I began to consider the other 'loves' of my life, the things that I hold to tightly, that God might be asking (or even requiring) me to relinquish.

Apart from God Himself, the greatest love of my life is my wife, closely followed by the love I have for my five children. Jesus said that we must 'hate' our earthly family in comparison to our relationship with Him. At this point, I don't sense a requirement from God that I relinquish my grip on those loves. More perhaps on that later.

Imagine a bunch of helium balloons, each one labeled, for example:

Right to experience justice
Right to withhold forgiveness
Right to work, to earn, to provide for my family
Right to enjoy my work
Right for vengeance
Right to be vindicated when I am right
Right to comfort, luxury, to enjoy the fruits of my labor
Right to use my gifts and talents according to my direction
Right to feel secure
Right to spend time with my family
Right to count on God's faithfulness, justice, goodness, truth
Right to spend time in relaxation

These are some of the values that I hold most dearly. Some of them are 'good' things, some of them are not; still, these are a few of my favorite things. Note the absence of raindrops that fall on my nose and eyelashes, and warm, wooly mittens. I use the word 'Right' to deliberately convey the sense of entitlement and personal ownership, as distinguished from things received as a gift.

I felt that God was calling on me to let go of these balloons. Some of them (like the right to withhold forgiveness) are unlikely to be returned to me -- the scriptures speak pretty clearly and harshly about those who fail to forgive their fellow men. Others, like the right to count on God's faithfulness, justice, goodness and truth, are guaranteed by God Himself (albeit as a gift, not as a 'right', although this may be symantic hair-splitting). Most of the others are counterfeit values; that is, they can only truly be enjoyed as a gift from God; they become worthless or even harmful when selfishly taken.

I am reminded of C.S. Lewis' story The Magician's Nephew, in which Digory is sent by Aslan to pick an apple from a magical tree in the center of a magical garden. The apple has the power to grant immortality, as demonstrated by the evil witch who climbs over the garden wall and steals an apple for herself. Digory is strongly tempted to take an apple for himself, especially when he considers the effect it might have on his terminally-ill mother. Conscious of his responsibility to obey Aslan, he completes the mission and (reluctantly) hands over the apple. As a consequence, the entire country of Narnia is protected for hundreds of years, and Digory receives (as a gift from Aslan) a second, lesser apple which ultimately results in the healing of his mother.

Digory questions Aslan about possible outcomes, should he have succumbed to the temptation of taking the apple for his own uses, to give to his mother. Aslan tells him:

"Understand, then, that it would have healed her, but not to your joy or hers. The day would have come when both you and she would have looked back and said it would have been better to die in that illness."

There seems to be a dramatic difference between something that is selfishly grasped and something God-given, even when it is the same object.

Am I willing to let go of those "rights"? Some of them may not be returned to me; indeed, I am not permitted to 'own' them in any case, if I propose to make God my one true love.

What are my other alternatives? Many Christians live their days by apparently relegating God to the level of a side interest, or a hobby. God seems to permit this -- the Church does not lack for marginal Christians. Do I really have to die to myself?

Is it even possible? Even if God persuades me at this time to relinquish my grip on these balloons, what will stop me from grabbing them back, or finding new balloons to hold on to in the future? Does exclusive love for God require a daily 'taking up of my cross' that includes frequent self-examination and repeated efforts to relinquish these shadow values?

How do I go about letting go of even one of these balloons? What would it look like, if I (even temporarily) relinquished one of these?

Holding on to a right includes:
Feeling resentment when someone infringes on it
Taking protective measures to avoid encroachment against it
Worrying about it
Requiring compensation or reparation when it is violated

I have come to the conclusion that for me, at this time, it is necessary that I seek God for Himself; that I not lay claim to anything beyond an intimate relationship with my Lord and Master. Everything else I should lay at His feet, for His good pleasure, to do as He sees best. I ought to make no demands, retain no rights, but simply make myself available for His work in accordance with His will.

How does this translate to day-to-day living? It would seem this is not a time to be making a lot of long-term plans. I have no idea where God will take me, so I'll just put one foot in front of the next, continuing on in my current situation, waiting on God to direct my path.

Loyalty Days

In a month or so we will be celebrating "Loyalty Days" here in Brinnon -- a local festival involving a parade (quite a sight in this rural village) and a short presentation, a few speeches by local politicians, and a patriotic theme.

I was reading a book today by Tom Clancy, in which a side character (who is soon after killed-off) describes the protagonist, a businessman: "[He] is a great man, and I would lay down my life to protect him." Frankly, the book wasn't very good, but it made me think about the people for whom I would lay down my life: a fairly short list.

We live in a cynical world that teaches loyalty to self as the supreme virtue. This is not a new idea. Polonius admonishes Laertes in Hamlet:

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

I don't think I buy it.

Most people subscribe to the idea (if not the practice) of loyalty to family and close friends, while others are able to drum up loyalty to a larger organization, people group, or even nation.

For some reason, loyalty is one of those words that sends a zing up my spine ... it has weight and substance in the matters of my heart. Ask me what I hope for most of all in a friend? Loyalty. What hurts me most in a relationship? Faithlessness or betrayal.

Some people mock this virtue. "Dogs are loyal", they say, with a smirk. It is a pseudo-virtue often attributed (at least in fiction) to a person too dumb to think for themselves. Even villains in action movies have 'loyal' henchmen, who frequently die because of misplaced loyalty to their leader.

So what is loyalty? It involves trust, and dedication, and a fixed positive faith. A loyal spouse will not permit her husband to be slandered, a loyal friend will not believe ill of his comrade without strong evidence. Perhaps loyalty is a kind of love ... a love that says, "You and I, we have a bond that is exclusive and separate from these others." But the best kind of loyalty goes beyond that -- it is an active, informed, intelligent desire to protect and seek the best for that person, perhaps even at the cost of the relationship.

Loyalty is rare, in my experience, and is therefore very precious, according to the laws of supply and demand. Sometimes the only person who can intervene in a crisis is someone with unquestioned loyalty -- in such cases they can be the only ones who have the 'ticket' or credibility to confront, rebuke or advise.

How do I go about surrounding myself with loyal people? Here are a few ideas, off the top of my head:

1) Become very rich, famous, or influential.

Hmmm. How will I know if my friends are loyal to me or to my money, prestige, power, or connections? I would imagine that question keeps more than a few rich, famous and influential people awake, nights.

2) Pursue a grand and noble cause.

Nope. While I might rub shoulders with the best of people, there seems no guarantee that such idealists will become personally loyal to me. Indeed, if we disagree on how to implement our grand and noble cause, I might find myself trampled, discarded or destroyed.

3) Be loyal to others.

This, at least, is potentially achievable; my example may serve as a model for others, who might spend some of their loyalty on me. No guarantees here either, but there is at least a glimmer of hope.

So how do I show loyalty?

1) No gossiping. A loyal friend never gossips.
2) Be faithful. A loyal friend keeps his promises.
3) Tell the truth. Loyalty doesn't allow for deception.
4) Seek the best. A true brother looks out for the interests of his friend; he protects, guards, preserves, even challenges.
5) Forgive. Loyalty overlooks offense and forgives insult.

Jesus said, "Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before men, I will disown him before my Father in heaven." Matthew 10:32-33

I've never really understood these verses -- I'm unsure if Jesus is speaking of salvation or some kind of a reward; but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be disowned before the Father, either way. I guess one conclusion I can reach is that loyalty, like love itself, must be grounded and connected to Jesus the Christ, and can only be properly and truly achieved to the extent that it is practiced toward Him.

Indeed, if I am ultimately loyal to my Lord and my King, I will express that loyalty in love and kindness to the people He loves, which is, according to John 3:16, all people.

A tall order.