IHEARTU

I didn't really steal it.

I just borrowed it and haven't given it back yet. I guess that's a bit too common for me - I have been known to borrow books or CDs or DVDs or whatever for, well, years. I know it's not good, and trust me... it's not really what I'm aiming for. I guess the bright side is that it's not that different when I lend things - I forget pretty quickly who has them, and I'm very free to give out what I have. This has been a blessing and a curse at times - on one hand, the source of more emails than I would like to a whole bunch of friends asking if anyone had seen the book I felt like reading. On the other hand, though, getting a CD back from a friend after a couple of years of thinking it was lost is, in a somewhat perverse way, a pretty nice experience.

Anyways, an anonymous reader of TYC lent me a DVD while visiting Geneva a while ago. I was (am) supposed to send it on to another friend, but hadn't quite gotten there yet when we had a bit of a quick change-up at YAGS (a group from my church that meets weekly, and that I help to lead): I was supposed to lead a discussion on kind of short notice.

And something kind of strange happened: I found myself without anything to talk about.

If you know me, you'll know that this is kind of out of the ordinary, and it threw me for a bit of a loop. Usually, when someone asks "Hey, can you teach?" I respond with a rather prompt "How much time can I have?". But this last week, I didn't have many ideas, but I remembered this video, and thought maybe ît would be a good one for us to watch and discuss together.

Turns out it was.

It is about the life and writings of Henri Nouwen. I didn't know tons about the guy before - a friend had given me one of his books (Return of the Prodigal Son) that was good... good in the general sense of being insightful and well-written, but also good for me. I knew he had written a bunch of others, but wasn't that familiar with them. He had quite a life, and wrote from a place of pain and longing much of the time. The video (called Journey to the Heart) was good, well worth a watch, if you can get a hold of it (and aren't waiting in line after me for anonymous' copy). I'm going to read more of his books now.

But I tell you all that to tell you this: there was one idea in there that just reached out and grabbed me by the heart. It's this: God loves us - he has loved us since before we loved him, before we were born, before the world was created, before time began. And he has given us just a little bit of time on this planet - 20 years, 40 years, 70 years - to be able to say, "I love you, too".

Well, I think that the reason for creation is a little more complex than that. And I guess Henri probably did, too. But that doesn't take anything away from the truth of how beautiful it is to hear a real "I love you".

The little chick has been able to understand some of what love is, and to choose to demonstrate it for a while now (she is, as she will tell you, a big girl now, at three). But there is still something mind-blowing about those little arms being thrown around my legs, that little head burried in, and a muffled "I love you, Daddy" escaping in the midst of it. As she learns more, it becomes more and more meaningful: she wants to share with me. She wants to include me in what she's doing. She wants to know how I feel, and wants to see that she makes me happy in her love for me.


So I wonder: how much of my so-far-at-least-35 years on this planet am I spending telling (or showing) God that I love him?

I have also known "I love you's" that aren't quite like those I get from the little chick. When no expression of love is forthcoming it can be painful, but there is far more damage when an "I love you" offered is not truly heartfelt - or, worse, when it's a lie - than when it's just absent. Those are words that should never be spoken out of duty or obligation - where there is that kind of obligation, there is no real love.

And so I wonder about something else: how many times have I said or sung those words to him without really meaning them?


Three little words, but a lot to think about.

I Have Something To Say

So why won't they let me say it?

I was at a retreat this weekend with a group from my church, and the speaker started out one of the sessions talking about an idea he had... and how we may have a different perspectives, and he wanted to hear about them.

Only, I don't think he did. Because he started to talk, and then he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

You know, I don't have a problem with people just doing their thing. But it pisses me off like you wouldn't believe when they say, "let's have a discussion" or, "I'd like to hear your thoughts on this" and then refuse to actually stop and listen. I mean, if you want to get my input, then I'm happy to give it. But if you don't want it, don't ask for it and then just refuse to listen to it.

Please.

Our Father

I've been thinking lately about God as our Father. I'm teaching at one of our church groups next week, and this has been on my mind, so that's what I'll talk about.

But you get a sneak preview while I find my way through.

The first thing I think of is that it's such a deep, rich analogy.

The second is, what if it's not an analogy?

Something C.S. Lewis talks about a lot (and Aristotle before him, but with different conclusions) is the way that the temporal often reflects the eternal... not because what we can't see right now is a shadow of what we can, but because what we have now is a shadow of what is to be.

I guess a good example of this is our desire to belong - to be part of an ethnic group, a nationality, a political party, a club, a church, or even a family. We want to be known, to be loved, to belong, and those are all good and natural longings. But we don't find their fulfillment in the here and now - to be deeply entrenched in the republican/demorcatic/green/whatever-Nader-is party will never begin to approach the kind of complete acceptance and "home" of being known and loved by our Creator. The means we have at our disposal now are temporary and inadequate, but the desire itself is much deeper, more permenant, and truer.

So here's the thing: becoming a father has changed me. What I know of love, of faith, of patience and care and hope are all worlds apart from what I knew before. And my understanding of how God relates to me and I to him has changed in very deep and dramatic ways, too.

But what if what I'm experiencing is not the final reality of what fatherhood is. What if this is the shadow - the analogy - and what my Father is to me is the reality.

What if?

Prayer, Part II... and a half

We continued our study on prayer last night at YAGS, talking about how to get ready to pray. Should be simple, right? Well, it hasn't been for me.

I have spent years trying to figure this out... mostly the stupid way - trying unsuccessfully and getting frustrated, but not enough to actually seek out help. When I came to the point of needing to pray in the same way that I need air or food, I started to learn a bit more, and, far more importantly, to be changed by it. As I've studied it, I've learned more still.

I think there are two things that have really helped me.

First, as I've understood more and more of what prayer is supposed to be, I've been able both to pray in a way that is oriented to that and to recognize when it is what it should be. Before, it was like the first time someone gave me a kite as a little kid. I tried to play with it, but it was too big to really handle easily, like my other toys. I tried to throw it in the air like a paper airplane, but it just crashed down again. "This is the stupidest toy, ever" I thought. But when I saw it fly for the first time, I understood... I hadn't known how to interact with it, and certainly had no idea that THAT was what it was for. Learning what it really was and how it worked made all the difference.

Second, and much more personally, I've seen that God wants me without reservation. He wants me to seek him with all I am and have. He wants me to submit without holding anything back. And when I do, he moves me. He works in me and around me. He comforts me, and he answers my prayers. And when I don't, it's a lot like sitting in my room talking to my ceiling.

I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I could do what I want and have God cater to me. But that's not the way it works. And that's what makes this whole thing something that is impossible to do - or even really consider - intellectually.

I saw someone on the train recently reading a book about how to ride a horse. He was on the "Galloping" chapter. I've seen it in other places, too... reading about mixing music, about seeing the world in a creative way as a photographer. I've felt it pretty acutely when trying to learn to golf or ski. There are some things you can learn by reading about them, and there are some that you can't. You can read all you want, but until you've been on the back of a horse that has its head and wants to go, you don't know what galloping is. And until you decide, for the moment you are in, to live in complete and total submission, you will never know what prayer really is, either.

The notes for the second part are here. (The ones from the first part are here in case you missed them). You can find the other related posts by following the link on the "prayer" topic. So let me know what you think. And I'll see you in a couple of weeks at Sam and Michelle's.

Sports And Genetics And God

*Spoiler*

This isn't really about science as much as it sounds from the title. If you want science, you should probably keep on looking.

*End spoiler*

I'm watching snooker.

And here's the thing - I know who the guys are who are in it - when they show the last names, I know the first names. I can picture some of them. I know that the World Championship is called "The Crucible" because it's held in the Crucible Theater (or maybe the other way around - I'm not obsessed). And I'm sad that Stephen Hendry is out. He's my favorite snooker-er, perhaps because he kind of looks like a wolf when he's leaning over his cue to make a shot... VERY cool eyes. And, let's face it: when you're deciding which snooker-er to root for, how much like a wolf his eyes look is just as good a criterion as anything else.

Probably more of you than would like to are aware of how I feel about what is called a "sport" and what's included in the Olympic program (I'm building momentum - slowly - for a place on the IOC), and there is no way snooker is a sport. But it's really hard. The tables are huge, the pockets are small... I remember playing snooker with Brock a couple times on a normally-sized pool table with somewhat more generous pockets, and it was still tough. I can't do it. So I kind of like watching these guys who are absolute masters at it... they make it look so easy, and I wouldn't even know the difference if I hadn't tried it myself.

So that makes me think about things I've tried that have turned out to be far more difficult than I would have expected:

• Throwing pottery (though it would have helped if they would have told me the wheel went the other way for left-handed people on the first day)
• Golf (also not a sport)
• Math (what's up with that, anyway?!?)
• Keeping my daughter in the same country I'm in
• Speaking (include reading, writing, and understanding) French
• Finding decent prints of Flemish Primitives (yeah, it's a Wikipedia day)
• Or, on a related note, painting

Conversely, there are some things that have been much easier than it seems like they should have been. Not that I've mastered these, but I probably do better at them than I should, given my training and knowledge:

• Drumming (really - you just count to 4 over and over and try not to get faster)
• Public speaking (a lot like normal speaking, but hopefully more people are listening)
• Photography (though, as a friend mentioned a couple weeks ago when seeing the lens I was using, "oh, that's why your pictures look so good!")
• Writing (in English, thanks)
  

But here's the really odd part - prayer, for me, has been in both of these categories at one time or another. Much more often in the first one, unfortunately, but not always. And as I've been reading about it, and thinking about it, and studying it, and doing it to be able to speak coherently about it at YAGS, I've been mystified by how it can be, at the same time, the simplest and most mystical thing I do most days. As easy as breathing. As difficult as requiring God to die to make it possible. Sometimes involuntary, sometimes demanding an act of will that seems to go against everything inside me.

I'm tempted to concoct some thin analogy relating prayer to the snooker match that's on, but I need to go. Maguire is just finishing up a century, and I need to watch.

It's Come To This

Yeah, a sunset picture. And not even from a beach. This was the view from Sam and Michelle's balcony tonight before YAGS.

Prayer, Part II

Well, contrary to (or maybe in part due to) my concern, the discussion on prayer that we had on Tuesday night went well.

I have come to really deeply appreciate the fact that I have a community, a group of friends who are ready and willing to look at difficult and important issues together, who are able to grapple with uncertainty, to be open to new ideas and to care for each other even though our views sometimes differ. I think that sometimes I take it for granted, but it was a really beautiful experience for me to realize that as I sat there with you and talked about something that is very important to me, I did it in the light of your acceptance and love and desire to explore it with me. I love that, and the freedom that comes with it is amazing.

For those who weren't there (maybe not even on the same continent - no hard feelings), you can download the notes here. In addition, I have a simple excel sheet that you can use to track things that you want to pray for regularly (daily or weekly) as well as specific items that you want to pray for until they are resolved. You can get that here.

There is more to come - I promised to provide some more details on the premise that God has chosen to limit his work on earth to what can be done through active or passive human complicity. I haven't had the time to put it all together yet, and though we may disagree about the wording, if we can agree simply that God's usual way of working is in cooperation with mankind it is enough to move forward.

In the meantime, whether you were part of the original discussion or not, I want to encourage you to leave your thoughts and comments. Let's explore this together.

Prayer, Part I

I have always wondered about prayer - to me, it is one of the greatest mysteries of a life of faith. It seems to have the potential for such greatness (and, for some, reaches that level) but, for most of us, remains difficult, disappointing, and rather confusing. I have learned a lot about this over the last year, both in my experience and in study, and decided to lead some discussions on the topic for a group at my church over the next couple of months.

So tonight, as I work on the final preparations for the first talk tomorrow, here's what I find going through my mind:

• Why did I ever think this was a good idea?
• More to the point, why did I think I should be the one doing it?
• How in the world am I supposed to fit everything that should be said into four 1-hour sessions?!?
• How am I supposed to figure out everything that should be said in the first place?
  

It seems so... big. And difficult. And, honestly, a long ways beyond me. Most of the time, I tend to talk about things that have been a puzzle for me, topics that have been troubling me and that I have wanted to dive in and gain some certainty (or at least a better perspective) on, and then I am able to share both the process and the discoveries I have made with the people around me. But this seems different.

Even after a lot of study, I still feel like I have more questions than answers. And if I don't know the truth, it will be hard for me to present much of value. What I know I don't want is to be the blind man pretending that he is capable of actually being a guide... and ending up dragging someone into a hole with me as I fall. So, somewhat ironically, I will be praying that I am able to talk about prayer in a way that honors God and is in keeping with the truth.

I'll report back on Wednesday...

Midsummer Night's Party

I went to a midsummer party thrown by a Swedish friend, and it was interesting on so many dimensions. Even without considering all of the forms of pickled fish and Acquivit we consumed, we played a Sweidsh version of baseball in which no one is ever out, an ancient viking game in which you have to throw sticks to knock over wood chunks set up on the other team's line (almost like chess, but a little more physically engaging), and did a number of maypole dances.

Try to picture 20 sober adults hopping in a circle around a freshly-decorated maypole, singing (kind of - only 3 of the group actually speak Swedish) a song about a little frog who seems to have some problems because he has no ears (at which point we wave our hands by our heads) and no tail (I'm sure you can guess). It was stunning. We found out later that these activities are usually reserved for children. Next year, I'm bringing children.

Oh, and in case you're wondering about the date, yeah, this is older than the date at which I'm publishing it. Oh well.