Saturday, April 30, 2005

Home Alone

No this isn't a commentary on McCauley Caulkin's only real movie. Actually it's a pretty all-encompassing description of the events of my entire weekend. Can you say lame? ...yes, that's me this weekend! Do I have friends? I think so, but I can't be sure. They're obviously not here with me which means that they're either out having fun or they lead equally lame lives. Either way doesn't say anything good about me. HA! (I can only laugh cuz I have no explanation at all for my lack of anything at all to do for the past two nights.) It's been months--many many months--since I didn't do a single thing on a Friday or Saturday night. I don't know how my life got so boring all of a sudden, but I thought I'd share it with you, so that you too would know how pathetic I am. Oh boy....

Actually, about the only redeeming factor of such a lame weekend is that no matter how dull my life gets, I'm really ok. That's not because I'm a real man and can endure being alone and blah blah. It's actually just because nothing can touch my identity in Christ; nothing can change the way that He feels about me. Certainly there are many people that will think I'm lame for not having anyone to go out with all weekend (and they'd be right), but the best part is that what they think doesn't really matter. I mean, yes, it is nice to be liked and even, dare I even suggest, desired by another. But when it comes down to it, I've been desired by the only one that really matters: Jesus. Jesus desires a relationship with you and me even more than I selfishly wish I would have done something this weekend thus helping me to not appear so incredibly pathetic. He desires us.

I'm sure many of you know John Piper. Piper has written many brilliant books, one of which is called Desiring God. I've actually yet to read all of it not for lack of quality but because I never seem to make it through any books in their entirety, at least not for a long while. I bring up Piper's book because I want you to consider the flip side of the title. Instead of you and I (or John Piper) writing a book called Desiring God, consider if you and I were the title of a famous book written by our LORD. Desiring _______ (fill in your name) written by Jesus. Powerful thought, isn't it?! I think the best part of it is that Jesus thinks that His "book" about you is so great...His favorite work. I love it!!!

I don't know...maybe you're not as taken by that concept as I am, but I cling to the fact that God has redeemed me and called me by name. He has made what seems to be a pathetic life, judging from the lack of any significant happening the past two nights, so incredibly unpathetic. (I know I just invented a new word. Just roll with it....) My identity cannot be tainted by a years worth of uneventful weekends, though my social skills would undoubtedly suffer from such a curse. I have been rooted in Jesus and sealed with the Holy Spirit's presence in my life. HA! So I'm not loser! lol ...except that I'm still home alone and wishing that something was going on. At least I'm spending my time home alone pondering the amazing nature of our LORD. I hope your weekend was more eventful than mine, but most of all I hope you know how much God desires you...no matter how undesireable and pathetic you feel. God desires you! Take one second and think about it (or if you're schedule is as free as mine has been, take a short while). God desires you! Amazing, isn't it?!

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Pink Aliens?

I was talking to a friend last night and she asked me a question: "Do you believe in UFOs?" Now, not knowing this girl all that well, but knowing that she does have a faith in the LORD, I was a little surprised. I responded quickly, "No." To which she returned, "Why not? What if I told you I saw one?" To which I returned, "You didn't see one because they don't exist." This conversation went back and forth for a few minutes and then I asked her a question: "Do you believe in pink elephants?" Surprised, she laughed and I pressed her on it again, "Do you believe in pink elephants?" She thought about it and responded, "Well if I actually saw one I would." Even more surprised, I responded, "But pink elephants don't exist. Wouldn't you question what you had seen?" After a short talk about the sovereignty of God and parallel universes and life on other planets and the authority of the Scriptures (as short as all that can be), we decided to end our little talk. My friend ended the conversation with, "I can believe in pink aliens if I want to." :)

This conversation, though very humorous at the time and seemingly nonsensical has helped me to think about Jesus. [I know you're thinking I'm stretching things just a bit here, but give me a second to explain.] Imagine being alive during the days of Christ. Imagine having a friend of yours walk up to you and ask you a question: "What would you think if I told you that I just saw the Son of God?" You'd be like, "I think you're a nut job and I'd have to beg you to lay off the sauce a little bit?!" And what if he pressed the issue: "I'm serious, I've met the Son of God! I talked to him. We went out to Starbucks and we each got caramel macchiatos. He's really awesome." You'd probably respond sassily something like, "Don't you think if the Son of God was going for coffee he'd invite me and not you? You don't even like coffee drinks. Now I really don't believe you." It would be hard to believe, though, wouldn't it? Even if you were the Jews and were expecting the coming Messiah. It would be hard to believe and yet it was true. [Obviously not the part about Starbucks, but I decided to take a little creative liscense to spice things up a bit.] Jesus did walk this earth and touch people and heal them and chill with them. He did hold kids because he thought they were wonderful, and people saw him and talked to him and he made them feel important. He taught and modeled and mentored and encouraged. The Son of God is real. All we have to do is believe.

That's the essence of faith, isn't it? Believing in something not because you can prove it but just because. What does the Scripture say? Hebrews 11:1 reads, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." And that is what I am. I am so sure of the hope that I have in my LORD that I would believe it stronger than my friend would believe in pink elephants even if she "actually saw one". I'm just glad that my faith lies in the God of the universe sending His Son, Jesus, because He love His children--YOU and ME and everyone else on earth--so much. 1 Timothy 2:4 talks about God as the one "who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth." That truth is available for anyone--EVERYONE that believes. Personally, I'm very grateful that my faith isn't in a flying saucer or pink aliens or other unproven, unverifiable anomalies. I'm grateful that my faith is in the living God, His Son, Jesus Christ, and the presence of His Holy Spirit with us on a daily basis. May you (and I) be drawn deeper into that faith today! Bless you!

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

The Breath of Life

At work, after I spent $20 for my $9 lunch (since it was Administrative Assistant's Day and we treat the office ladies to lunch), I took a CPR course with the rest of my staff. Sidenote: we were also trained on how to use a defibrillator. So, if any of you aren't showing signs of life and are not breathing and both you and I happen to be in my church building, I am authorized to shock you back to life. Just thought you might want to know that and would want to be around me more now cuz I'm extra cool. Anyway....

So we took this CPR course. I took CPR way back in the day when I was in advanced swimming lessons but it's been a long time. I was impressed this time by the thought of breathing life into the unconscious dummy. And it hit me: GOD HAS BREATHED NEW LIFE INTO ME, THE ONCE UNCONSCIOUS DUMMY! The breath of the Spirit of God gives me purpose in my life and wakes me from my unconscious slumber of life in the darkness. It doesn't just allow my brain to work and my heart to beat; this life promises me a hope and a future and a love in the person of Jesus unlike any other love that exists in this world. This breath of life is not limited to my time on this earth, rather, it is eternal; it does not merely sustain a heartbeat but offers me the reason for me to be alive in the first place! And this breath of life is available to anyone out there who desires it. What dummy (manequin or human) wouldn't want a breath of new life to revive him?

May you this day breathe the life-giving breath of the Spirit on those you meet. Bless you.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Family: You Can't Kill Them

Last night at dinner was absolutely ridiculous. To understand why I honestly can't believe the sequence of events that occurred at dinner, you will have to briefly hear about one of my "projects" of the last couple of weeks. My dad is a doc, an OB/GYN at that, and he currently teaches residents and med students through a prominent hospital here in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. Well, supposedly he has some major lecture on preterm labor that he has to give at one of the DO (Doctor of Osteopathy) schools in the area. So, what does that mean for me? It means that my free moments in the last couple of weeks have been spent typing about preeclampsia and vaginosis and other really sick words. (I don't really know what they mean, and I'm pretty sure I don't really want to know what they mean. They give word pictures that I have no interest in ever seeing.) Anyway, finally, two nights ago I finished his powerpoint presentation at like 3:30am. (It feels like I can't ever fall asleep so I figured I'd do something "productive" with my time and learn a few more things about PTL--that's the acronym for Pre Term Labor, if you wanted to know.) So yeah, there are 75 slides. 75! You type 75 slides about vaginosis and see how defiled you feel! ...calming down now....

So I finish the last of the slides and am feeling pretty dang good about it. I want to tell my dad so I can hear what a wonderful boy I am and just to keep the poor man from blowing a gasket about how much more work there still is to do. So at dinner last night I tell him that I finished the slides. He replies without even looking at me, "Good. We're not done yet." I ignore the obvious second part of his comment, knowing that my dad will probably change something on all 75 of those slides before the lecture next week, and I try another route: I let him know how much work I had done for him. "There were 75 slides, dad." His trite reply: "Wow." I sat there shoveling as much of my sweet and sour chicken into my mouth as I possibly could so that I didn't hurl my fork across the table like a Chinese star hoping to stick him in the juggular. All he could say was "wow"!?! I was pissed. When I couldn't take it anymore, I finally said to him, "All I wanted you to say was thank you. That's all I wanted. Why is that so hard?" After many long seconds of quiet, dumbfoundedly he responds, "We're not done yet." Let's just say that I wanted to give the old man a severe case of vaginosis on the spot. I couldn't believe that he honestly would not say thank you. I don't remember much more of the conversation except that he started shaking his head at me in oh-so-obvious disbelief that I was making a big deal about this, and while shaking his head, he finally allowed the weakest "thank you" ever to slip out of his mouth. I would have rather he not said it at that point. But, hey, it figures...right?

So this little peach of a story leads me to this question: Why is it so hard to be nice to your family? I'm not saying that my dad is the only perpetrator of such nonsense, it's just a very fresh story and it's easier to point a finger at him than share excessive amounts of my own dirty laundry over the the world wide web. Family: you can't kill them. With that understood, what is it about family that makes them so hard to love? I know that my dad was probably up all night delivering babies and praying against PTL and preeclampsia, but this is a regular phenomenon in families, isn't it? Why? What is it about family that makes them so hard to love?

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

A Silent Conversation

So I recently went out with a friend of mine and found myself asking many different questions to occupy some of our time together and initially just because I was truly curious to find out more about her. She, in turn, answered my questions. A few minutes ticked by, and I sat there wondering if she was feeling awkward, obviously because I was feeling awkward in assuming that she was feeling awkward. (Even the spelling of the word awkward is awkward, isn't it?) So, I'd ask another question, which she would answer and then there was more silence and I'd feel more awkward assuming she was feeling awkward, and on and on and on. (I know...I'm sick! A high schooler student of mine once so eloquently told me in one of his bitch sessions to me in his anonymous email, "Don't ever ASSUME anything! You make and ASS of U and ME." Thank you, oh anonymous sage...if only I had learned when you told me off a year ago. Oh well, live and learn....)

Anyway, after this had happened a handful of times, I finally allowed myself to wrestle through the silence. I freed myself to enjoy our time together without the detriment of a spoken word, having what one might call a sort of "silent conversation". It wasn't distant or inconsiderate but rather warm and peaceful. I don't often sit in silence like that very well, at least not while I'm only with one other person and there is no conversation being exchanged. Many could have justified the initial scenario: yes, we were at a sporting event and conversation was not expected. For me, though, I felt obliged in some way to make sure she was okay, when really I was probably the only one of us with a problem with the way things were going. What is my fascination to fill the void of silence with more chatter? I mean, it's not like there wasn't any noise--we were at a sporting event, for goodness sake. There were people cussing and spilling beer and booing new crappy right-fielders. Why did I feel the need to add to that mess?

I think I view silence as a weakness or shortcoming in myself. I definitely don't mind when other people are silent. I can just say that they are introverts and God has wired them that way and at least I don't have to listen to more annoying people and blah blah blah. But for me, when I value the person that I'm with, (especially as a single, 25 year old guy out with a cute, single 25 year old girl) I feel like I'm screwing it all up if there isn't a continued engaged conversation going on at all times. I don't think I want to face what silence says about me, or should I say what I think silence says about me. Instead of thinking that silence will communicate to this girl that I'm comfortable just being around her, I fumble through every question I can think of to make sure everything is going well and probably far too obviously communicate how uncomfortable I'm feeling. Pathetic, huh?

I learned something from my silent conversation the other day: words don't necessarily make things better. In fact, though at the time I probably would have felt better jabbering away about many different topics, the reality is that the silence communicated so much more than a cute girl's responses to my formulated questions. That silent conversation might have been the best time that I spent with my dear friend the other day. I have much to learn.