Fellowship

He found you like He found me:
Empty and hopeless,
At the end of ourselves,
Lost coins hiding in forgotten corners,
Penniless prodigals stealing slop from hogs.

And He breathed life into our dead lungs,
And overwhelmed our darkness with light,
And built us into a body, a temple,
A kingdom where everyone
Is a priest of the Almighty.

My Priorities

This summer, I was challenged to write a statement of my personal priorities. Here's what I came up with. Sticking it here so I'll remember where I left it. :-D

1. Put Christ first in all things.
2. Provide (spiritually, emotionally, materially) for my wife and kids.
3. Follow God's callings for my life:
1. Use my gifts to minister to His people.
2. Work hard so I can provide for my family and give generously.
3. Create beautiful things to bring light into a dark world.
4. Maintain good spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical health. These are vital tools in accomplishing the things listed above.

NoPAD Chapbook 24: I'll Be ______

One of these days, I'll be dead
And you will live on, I trust,
My lovely ones,

For lovely you are,
And I have loved you fiercely,
Faithfully, sacrificially:

My beautiful bedmate,
My strong young sons,
My delightful daughter.

You'll know I did not love
As well as I had wished, and yet
You'll know I loved the best I could.

When I have gone, as go I must,
May echoes of my imperfect love
Birth joyful melodies in your souls.

Some Thoughts on Heroes

Our culture tells us that a hero is someone who pulls a child from a burning building. Or perhaps someone who single-handedly foils a bank robbery. Or even someone who scores 50 points in a basketball game.

I don't think that these feats begin to scratch the surface of true heroism.

A hero is someone who consistently sacrifices his own ambitions, dreams, and sleep for  the good of others. A hero is someone who stays when it would be much easier to leave. A hero is someone who serves even when it is costly or unrewarding.

When a father chooses family time over Halo, that is heroism. When a mother chooses to bake cookies with her daughter to the neglect of her Pinterest boards, that is heroism. When I choose the well-being of my wife and sons over another hour at work, I like to think that is heroism, too.

I started writing this post on June 16, which was Father's Day. I guess that my mind turns naturally toward heroics on that day, since my father is one of the most heroic men I know. His whole life has been poured out in service to his wife, his children, his church, his students -- in short, anyone who needed help.

Dad is a kind, thoughtful, sympathetic man. He loves to do good work, to solve problems, and to give his family what they need. He is intelligent but not puffed up, skillful but not proud, and full of wisdom without giving an air of superiority.

I remember riding into town with Dad when I was an undergrad at the university where he taught. We would park a couple of blocks off campus and walk together down side streets toward his office. As we went along, I would talk about all of the exciting new ideas I was encountering in my classes. Dad always listened carefully, treating me as though my unoriginal thoughts mattered immensely.

I still remember one of our exchanges very vividly. I was talking excitedly about Zeno's paradox of Achilles and the tortoise, which Dad didn't have a lot of use for. After patiently hearing me out, he said, "Son, I can tell you love to think about these ideas, and that's great. Just remember this: People are always more important than ideas."

To say that people are more important than ideas is noble. To consistently live it, even when the people are ugly and ungrateful and have serious problems, is heroic.

I'm very thankful that this particular hero is my father. I can't imagine a better one.

What's the Best Way to Be Married?

I see a lot to agree with in this sermon by an old childhood friend: The Abundant Life of the Church « Gracious Jots

Here is one of my favorite parts:

Let me be very clear. I do think God wants us to be content. I do think God wants us to have enough food to eat so that we do not go to bed hungry.  I do think God wants us to experience healing and wholeness. However, I do not think that the prosperity gospel is actually good news nor do I think it brings contentment, healing, or even wholeness.

There is abundant life found in the life of the church.  And this abundant life can be experienced by each participating member of the church, regardless of financial situation.

This is a message the American church needs very badly. Too often, we conflate plenty with blessing and lack with tribulation. The New Testament, however, teaches that circumstance should never constrain our contentment or our joy.

As much as I appreciate this sermon's main argument, I do have some concerns with its discussion of Ephesians 5:21-33:

This passage is used in weddings all the time and is used to subjugate women to men.  Let’s acknowledge that this passage has been used for more harm than good.

Abundant life does not flow from harmful hierarchy or even patriarchy within relationships. This model essentially argues for the marriage to be about one person’s needs while another just meets all those needs.  This practice is really unhealthy in marriage.

Furthermore, This passage isn’t intended to explain how to have a Christian marriage in the 21^st century.   No, this passage is talking about the unity and intimacy between Christ and Christ’s beloved- the church.

This passage on marriage is the author using what he had to work with (an understanding of a 1^st century marriage) to explain how much Christ loves the church, and how the church is supposed to love Christ.

I agree that this passage has been used to justify many ungodly actions. However, that doesn't mean we can completely throw out the model of marriage that it describes.

It is true that this passage is, most importantly, a description of the loving relationship between Christ and His bride, the church. But to say it isn't also God's blueprint for healthy marriages is to miss a significant part of the passage's power.

If willing submission to the authority of another is subjugation, then the Father has been subjugating the Son since before the foundation of the world. Christ has been subjugating His beloved Bride for the past two millennia. Church leaders all over the world subjugate the flocks that their Savior entrusts them to protect and feed.

Would anyone argue that Christ's suffering on the cross was centered on His own needs? Or that God the Father's plan to heal His broken people was a self-centered one? Or that genuinely caring elders in a church weep, pray, and minister to their people out of selfish ambition?

Those examples are within the same model Paul advocates for marriage. In this model, there is danger of marriage being all about one person's needs. That person, however, is the wife. (The one "lower" in the hierarchy is always served by the one "above.")


The sermon claims that this passage "isn't intended to explain how to have a Christian marriage in the 21st century."

That's true. It is, however, intended to explain how to have a Christian marriage. Period.

God's standards for life and godliness don't change from age to age, and He says the best way to have a marriage is when a husband loves his wife more than himself and the wife submits to and respects her husband. This doesn't mean life will be perfect -- but it does mean it will be a lot less painful.

I wrote a lot more about inspiration and metaphor and postmodernism, but it seemed like more heat than light, so I deleted it. I think for me, the important thing is that this is how God wants me to live, so I'm going to choose to do it, no matter what others think (or even what I think).

And I guess that's submission, too.

Giving Thanks

A couple of weeks ago, I awoke to the sound of rain on the roof. The sky outside was grim and gray. The rain had driven away the summery warmth of the previous day.

The spluttering, drizzling chill of the day reminded me of Thanksgiving 2004, which I spent in Scotland. I still see, smell, and taste that traditional turkey-and-trimmings feast, prepared by Kansans in the fellowship hall of an ancient church in the heart of Dundee's city centre.

We were a small, curious potpourri of people, all in town for a wedding: the groom's family, half a dozen of his old youth group friends, and another family from our church, temporarily located to Scotland for academic work on cattle.

We were strangers in a strange land, and perhaps because of that, we were intensely thankful. We were glad for the castles in Edinburgh and Glamis, for the beach and ruins at St. Andrew's, for friends of friends who had generously shared their homes and their time to make us welcome.

I was in the middle of a hard semester of graduate school. In fact, I carried my English Grammar term project with me everywhere on the trip. I worked on it during flights and long car rides -- in any spare moment I could find. So this hiatus from school -- indeed, from the land of my birth -- was a welcome one. It distracted me just enough to remind me how very, very blessed I was.

For me, that Thanksgiving in Dundee was one of more intense gratitude than any I could remember. I found myself thanking the Almighty not only for the things that were going well in my life, but also for those that were not going well at all. It was one of the first times I felt like I had fulfilled Paul's command to the Thessalonians: "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

In the spirit of that prodigiously thankful day, I'd like to give thanks publicly for a few things that didn't go according to my plan. Each of these things brought me temporary pain of one sort or another, but time has proven to me that pain can give way to immense blessing.

• I am thankful that every girl I went out with in college studiously avoided going on a second date with me.
• I am thankful for the English faculty at the University of Kansas. Particularly, I am thankful for my advisor, Jim Hartman, who warned me to count the cost of pursuing a PhD, and for the graduate committee, who wisely declined my PhD application as I was finishing up my M.A.
• I am thankful for the potential employers throughout northeast Kansas who decided to "go with another option" when evaluating my applications for employment.
• I am thankful for the manager who humiliated me to the point of tears in a meeting two years ago.
• I am thankful that my wife knows my darkest secrets and deepest flaws.
• I am thankful that I turned out not to be a very good freshman English teacher. 

My current job, my relationship with my wife, and indeed, every direction my life has taken in the past seven years, seem to drip with God's guidance. I have seen my own plans thwarted often enough to recognize that His plans are invariably better. 

May I rely less on myself and increase my thankfulness in every circumstance as I continue growing in wisdom and maturity. 

What are you thankful for on this Thanksgiving weekend, dear reader? 

Tips For Dads: How (And Why) to Remove Poop Stains

The Easy Part: How

Ingredients (Stage 1):
1 poop-stained article of clothing¹
1 willing papa
running water
dish soap

Ingredients (Stage 2):
medium mixing bowl (full of water)
Borax (or your favorite stain remover)
bleach (if the stained area is white)

Process (Stage 1):
First things first: rinse it off as soon as you can after The Event. I prefer cold running water in a sink with a garbage disposal. (Cold water is best for body fluid stains; warm water is better for other stains, such as strawberry juice.) Your goal is to get any chunks and all of the slimy stuff out while keeping the affected area as small as possible (avoid spreading it around).

Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty. You have soap and water in your house for a reason, and you can wash up after you're done. If you are Exceedingly Weak of Stomach, try to think of the feces as just a highly processed, disagreeable-smelling food. That's what it is, after all. And remember: the quicker you rinse, the quicker you can forget precisely what you're cleaning up.

Once it's rinsed off, I apply some dish soap directly to the stained area. Rub it into the stain, again being careful not to spread any remaining fecal matter around. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed. Your goal at this stage is to use your fingers to rub out as much of the stain as possible. About half the time, this will do the trick.

If the stains don't come out after about five minutes of vigorous rubbing, rinsing, and repeating, it's time to step up your game.

Process (Stage 2):
Fill a bowl with water. Let the garment soak for at least half an hour. If you got most of the stain out in Stage 1, soaking can often help you finish the job. After the soak, return to your dish soap and water tactic.

If soaking doesn't help, it's time for stronger chemicals. Always read and follow the directions on these. I find Borax is often helpful for getting stains out. There's also bleach, but be careful: regular chlorine bleach will discolor just about anything, including many shades of off-white. Color-safe bleach is a better bet for most garments other than white onesies. Clorox2 is an example - it has a milder, oxygen-based bleach instead of the chlorine one.

Don't go overboard on chemicals; too much can cause your colors to fade.

I've found some combination of soaking and solvents to be successful 99.9% of the time. Patience is a virtue, here, fellas.

Good luck!

The Harder Part: Why

I wish I had a dime for every time I've said to myself, I'm a highly skilled, well-paid technical professional. Why am I standing in front of a kitchen sink washing poop stains out of clothes again?

For many people in my position, the benefit simply don't seem to be worth the effort. Why not just dispose of the filthy clothes and be done with it? My time is worth much more than this. This is beneath me. I'm an important, dignified person, dadgum it!

So here are some answers I came up with the last time I was rinsing my son's feces out of a sleeper:

1. I am cheap. I'm not sure I know of many cheaper people than me. And clothes (even baby clothes) can be very expensive. When I visit Babies "Я" Us, I see outfits that cost more than a week's groceries. Besides, it rubs me the wrong way to discard a perfectly serviceable piece of clothing.
   
2. It shows my wife that I care about her. Sure, we could buy new clothes, but she's attached to some of these outfits. Plus, I'm not the only thrifty one in the family -- she appreciates me helping to stretch the clothing budget a little bit farther.
   
3. It demonstrates to my sons that I love their mother and don't think her desires are less important than mine. I want my boys to grow up knowing what a loving husband and father looks like. These poop-stained Onesies are an opportunity for me to show them.
   
4. It brings me down closer to where I ought to be. I believe that God resists those who are full of their own importance and gives grace to those who realize their imperfections and their need for a Savior.² Bringing myself low to serve my family is a way for me to be like Jesus, who humbled Himself to serve those he deserved to rule over.

So, that's why I do it. I'm sure these reasons aren't compelling to everyone, but they are to me.

And now off to start a load of laundry...

Notes:
¹ Onesies, sleepers, t-shirts, jeans -- you'll probably see them all, if your children's bowels are fairly healthy.
^{2 See James 4:6}

Disneyworld

I have lately been reading a lot of other blogs, to the neglect of my own. One that I frequent pretty often is that of Jonathan Rogers, author of several books. Each week, he has an audience participation assignment. This week's was on Disney: "Let’s talk about Disney. Triumphs, disasters, amusing anecdotes, opinions supported and unsupported. We welcome them all."

Here's what I wrote. After I was done, I decided I would cross-post it here.

My only experience with Disneyworld was related more to the idea of the place than the place itself.

When I was about nine, I somehow got it into my head that I wanted to go to Disneyworld. And, as you know if you have ever been nine, I wanted it more than ANYONE has ever wanted ANYTHING.

(In retrospect, I’m not quite sure why I wanted to go. I don’t like roller coasters, and I’m not especially fond of crowds. I was probably just more susceptible to the magic of advertising at that age.)

The obstacles were as follows:
* We lived in Kansas
* We lived on the salary of an adjunct math instructor
* Mom and dad had seven kids at that time, with number eight on the way

When I told my father about my rather unrealistic desire, he told me we would see if we could make it happen. And that sweet man kept his word. I remember him getting on the phone with Disney to see if they had any discounts our group of nine could take advantage of. I remember him writing down estimates, adding up expenses, researching campgrounds, trying to massage the numbers into something that wouldn’t make us hemorrhage out an entire month’s pay.

He went through a lot of effort trying to fulfill the silly dreams of a little boy. So I knew when he sat down solemnly with me a week later that he had done his best.

“Son,” he said, “sometimes we just can’t get the things we want. When that happens, we just need to appreciate what we have.” He finished by giving me an enormous hug that conveyed more love than a dozen trips to Disneyworld ever could.

So I guess you could say that I have nothing but good memories of Disneyworld.