A Good Book With A Terrible Name

I borrowed (or, rather, was lent) a book on personality types (the study of which, I've learned, is called "personology"). It's by David Keirsey, who is known for his temperament sorter, which is both a simplification of the Myers-Briggs type index and an extension of it. You can see his website here. Unfortunately, while he is a good writer and a brilliant personologist (hard to say that without giggling), he appears to have acquired his aesthetic taste for web design from myspace, thankfully without the background that doesn't move as you scroll the page, which is, while we're on the topic, officially the worst legal and quasi-ethical use of the internet since Al Gore invented it. Oh well.

The book is called "Please Understand Me II". Without bothering to look it up, I can surmise from the title that the original (it's not clear if it was just "Please Understand Me" or if, intended to be part of a series of revisions from day one, it was presciently labeled "Please Understand Me I") that it was probably published in the 70's or maybe the 80's. It may be the worst title of any book I've ever opened.

But it's fascinating inside. Here's the thing that has grabbed me the most so far: my motives are relatively altruistic. I want to do what's right, and I want what's best for the people around me. I miss the mark sometimes, but that's the mark I'm aiming for.

I had figured that everyone more or less operated on those same principles, but sometimes people became confused or had odd ideas about what was actually good. But I always believed that if you gave someone enough chances, gave them the benefit of the doubt, and encouraged them to do and be their best, they would get there eventually.

Well, it turns out that not everyone works that way.

I guess I should have known that by now. But it leaves me in a difficult position: how do you believe the best about people knowing that their best, as they understand it and pursue it, may not turn out to be something worth believing in? Or how do you live without believing in the potential of the people around you?

I'm not sure I like either option much.

And then the question of faith comes into it: I don't know if I'm drawn to Christianity in part because it fits the moral ideals that are part of my natural character, or if my character (or personality) has been formed by the ideals of my faith. In fact, I am not sure about the reality or the impact of the former; I am certain of the truth and significance of the latter. I have no doubt that I have been changed and shaped by my faith and by a God who intends me to be more and more like him, as well as more fully who he created me to be as an individual.

For those following along, I am what Dr. Keirsey would call an Idealist. But the present focus for the Guardian type tends to be a stoical, often pessimistic resolution. For Rationals, it is pragmatic and generally self-satisfying by whatever means are most efficient. For Artisans, it is primarily hedonistic and very short-term. These would not seem to be quite as comfortable a fit with the basic tenets of Christianity: to love and obey God first, to love and care for others second, and to put your own needs and desires in a trailing position.

So what happens when someone whose primary focus is on fulfilling immediate, hedonistic desires comes in contact with a God who demands that others must come first, and that the absolutes of conduct and character cannot be subverted to achieve an end? Does their character change? Does an "SJ" become an "NT" in time? How is God's plan worked out in the variety of creation of humanity, and how close (or far) from his design is what we see today?

It's a lot to think about. And an interesting book.

The Work Of Wisdom

Some continued thoughts (with no resolution, yet) from On My Mind...

Time for a little transparency - I'm going to drop any pretense, because this is important to me. I want to be wise.

I want to understand, I want to be a man who sees what other people don't see. I want to be a man who can sense (and move to) the rhythm of holiness in everyday life. I want to give counsel that will lead people to truth and peace; to be not just patient or loving gentle or strong with my daughter, but to raise her to know and love truth. I want my decisions and my words to reflect the very will of God.

Is it asking a lot? Yeah, probably. Am I going to stop asking for it? No.

I don't think much about promotion. I don' t care very deeply if some people don't get me (a little or at all). I could care less about becoming wealthy, or prominent. But I want, at my core, to be wise.


Or, at least, I thought I did. But then I started to read:

Proverbs 9:10 "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding."

How much time and effort have I put in to gaining a true and deep knowledge of God? How many hours of study have I invested? Some, certainly. But not as many as would seem to lead to the kind of wisdom I claim to thirst for. It's like saying I want to get into shape.... just not by running, or working, or sweating. Can't I order something off of the TV for that?

I like this a lot better:

James 1:5 "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."

That's the kind of wisdom I want... a supernatural wisdom that God gives me. It's by faith, right? I'm not going to try to live by works. And I especially like the "without finding fault" part.

But maybe a little work is just what I need.

If I sit at a table full of food and decide that, out of faith, I am going to ask God to nourish me but I will not raise one bite to my lips, I will starve. It's not that God doesn't want me to live or to be strong, but when he has given a way that I have refused to accept, he rarely seems to offer a second one. I may pray, in faith, "Father, I believe that you are able to care for my physical needs". His response? "I am not just able - I have already done it. Look in front of you."

In the same way, when I ask for wisdom through a special revelation but neglect the words that God has said time and time again that I need to live my life by if I expect to do it right, I am a fool. Instead of getting me closer to wisdom, it takes me ever further from it. Like so many aspects of this physical/spiritual life we lead, the act of faith without the work of obedience is empty.



And then I have a second understanding: I am not sure that what I am asking for is even wisdom at all.

Proverbs 12:1 "Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates correction is stupid."

Proverbs 1:9 "Then you will understand what is right and just and fair—every good path."

Am I asking for discipline? Am I submitting to correction, and, beyond that, welcoming it? Am I seeking to understand what is right and just and fair, or do I want a crystal ball to tell me the optimal time to ask for a raise?

Imagine a man prays, day after day, for wisdom and for understanding. And, day after day, he has nothing but trouble. Financial problems, issues with relationships failing at work, discord in his family, and no sense of a foundation upon which life may be lived in security. At first, he assumes his prayers are not being heard. He practices patience, and continues to pray. But after a time, he gives up and curses God - "All I asked for was wisdom, and all you gave me was trouble!"

"He who hates correction is stupid."

When I am asking for wisdom, am I asking to be shown what is good, and right, and true? Am I asking to be refined until what is impure and worthless in me is destroyed by fire? Or am I asking God to show me the path of maximum benefit and minimal cost - a spiritual Cole's Notes? Am I not just asking God to give me something that is abhorrent to him, but failing to recognize what is truly priceless when he provides it at the same time?

What is it that I really want?

Question Of The Day

Jeans without pockets - do they look good on anyone? ANYONE?

Tell Me The Truth

We talked last night at Shema about inclusion and love - and about the fact that the gospel is a message of reconciliation, and that Christ came to include people, not to exclude them. I think that's good, and it's true.

But, like the oath you take before testifying in court says, it's not the whole truth.

Jesus said this when sending his disciples out:

"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn
" 'a man against his father,
a daughter against her mother,
a daughter-in-law against her motherinlaw—
a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.'

"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 10:34-39)

So what do we do with this? Honestly, I think that anyone who teaches is in a tough spot, and as you get in front of people who have less and less background information through which to filter and understand the message, the more difficult it gets. How do you include enough to fairly represent the truth without overwhelming them? The Bible is not a simple book, and almost any time that you teach one concept in a simple way you risk teaching against an equally valid one, as is the case here.

As I see it, we are called to love and live in peace with all men, if possible. But that possibility does not come at the cost of compromising the truth. And here is the great divider in the traditional church and the emergent church today. The emergent church seeks to love, at any cost. The traditional church seeks to protect truth, at any cost. And when we have two opposites that we are called to live by, the answer is not going to be a simple one.

It will not be without tension, and it will not be a line we can draw and leave in the sand for the rest of time. What is the relationship between love and acceptance? God loves everyone, but will not leave any sin unpunished. He does not want anyone to live or die out of relationship with him, but he has allowed only one very infliexible and ultimately demanding way to be in that relationship. It's a tense place to be, and one that demands more wisdom and discretion than any of us has within us to truly understand which way to go. But that's where we are, and we can't pretend otherwise.