Priorities

God is banging on my life again, trying to get my attention - about time.

As I have come to figure out my schedule here in New Home, and begun to realize the issues of reconnecting the parts that have been disconnected, I realized that 1) I'm not spending the amount and quality of time with God that I should for what I profess, and 2) I'm not spending the amount and quality of time with my family that I should (having been disconnected by distance).

And now, looking at the time that exists combined with moving, it begins to become clear that there is not all the time in the world and that some hard choices have to be made at this juncture.

Three of the choices - My relationship with God, my relationship with my family, and health (i.e. exercise and nutrition) were not at all difficult to make, as they are truly critical (even the health - if you lose that, you can do so much less). The difficulty came when I started looking at the other things.

I gave myself a limit of five: five things to focus my life around and on. Leaving the three aside, I came up with four more for two positions: an independent lifestyle, Japanese (language), writing (for a book), and playing the harp).

The independent lifestyle - financially, and to the greatest point possible materially, took position number four. We - I - need to get serious about that, especially since it is my earnings that will largely be responsible for my family's future, and it gives me the opportunity to practice being more independent.

Which left the one and the three. I have wrestled with each, measuring pros and cons, what do I like to do, what would be the most beneficial to do. And then the thought occurred: Why not let God decide?

So I have given it over to Him. I'll try to do all three just to try but I'm in no hurry; the biggest thing is to continually pray and reflect on them. If I get more than one, great. If I only get one - and that one is what God wants - then that's okay too.

Doldrums

I realized something this afternoon as I was on a date with Nighean dhonn:

I'm depressed.

And how, you might ask, would I realize this from a date with my daughter?

It struck me as we were going through Borders, looking at books - which constitutes virtually one of the perfect activities for me. As I was looking through, toying with the idea of purchasing a book, suddenly the thought came to me "Why? What for? Is it a wise use of your money?"

Suddenly my reading material of the last week and its tendencies - fantasy and sci fi - made total sense to me: escapism. It meshed with the feeling of dissatisfaction I have been fighting for the last month or so: inability to concentrate on things I am doing, a general lack of enthusiasm for anything.

In an odd way, it is not the sense I usually have from depression: a definite sense of downness, of sadness. It's much more of a listlessness's of the soul, a lack of interest in anything.

So here's the question: not having a severe sense of sadness or any motivation, how does one restart one's engine?

The Month That Was

So hello September! August, we hardly knew ye...


August was a whirlwind of activity for numerous reasons:

1) Getting our rental in New Home.

2) Driving back from New Home with the animals

3) Having all our worldly possessions put into our home by movers - and then trying to find them!

4) Having to say goodbye to two old friends (Cedric and Fergus) within 3 weeks of each other.

5) Having The Ravishing Mrs. TB and Na Clann arrive here from Old Home.

6) Having to completely manage my first audit from an NGO that allows us to market product.

Whew!

What strikes me as I now try to dig back out from the rubble of what is my life is what creatures of habit we can become. A little disruption to my schedule, and suddenly all of my good intentions and goals fall apart. Which raises the question: how seriously was I committed to those things anyway?

It's easy to develop a regime and goal living on your own, confining your responsibilities and actions to yourself. It's much more difficult to do the same when you have the reality of life impinging in.

Yet I continue to cling to those things as if I could accomplish them, when in fact it may more be a case of my pride rather than realistic chances.

What are goals? What are meaningful things? What has true value, what is valueless, and what is merely to make me feel better about myself?

To Hell with Fear

So this weekend has been something of an epiphany for me. It's been a twofold process: on the one hand, losing my planner with some materials in them; on the other, reading Ray Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing. The result has been somewhat freeing.

In other words To Hell with Fear.

I have suffered from fear of most anything for a great many years now. Fear of anything, but it can really be traced back to fear of others. Fear of what they would think, fear of what they would do. If you never lived it, you have no idea how crippling it can be.

But it hit me yesterday as I was driving home from work that I couldn't control that. In regards with the planner, it was either gone or not. If not, someone will either call or not. Either way, I can't control it. If I can't control it, why am I afraid of it? The dark monster that we call fear is probably more often than not one that we create by ourselves, or at least inflate beyond its original size.

And the fear of others? In my work, my ability to work and succeed is based largely on the actions of others. If they don't do their job, I don't have one. So am I willing to sacrifice my job - nay, my career - just so folks that I will probably never see after this position (and at my typical job stay time, this is 1-2 years) will like me?

And the Bradbury reference? I'll have to expound on that later - suffice it to say that he writes passionately about the process of writing, of not caring what other say. Words I need to take to heart.

Life is too short to live in terror of what might happen.

Fear and Panic

Overswept by a moment of panic this morning, when I realized that the audits I hoped we were going to have another month to prepre for are coming in two weeks.

Yikes.

But in this moment, I need to make a decision: to consciously push down the fear and actually take action.

This is a often a problem for me: something happens, I get upset, and then rather than think of the action that I can take, I panic and think of everything that can go wrong and how we're not going to do well.

That's a good way to fail.

Instead of panicking, why not take a minute and make a plan of action? No worse than just freaking out, and who knows, might do okay.

Who knows, might even pass.

Leaving

As I walk around
where my life used to take place,
Look: full moon smiles down.

Last Night

At 9:40 PM this evening, the Ravishing Mrs. TB comments to me "You know, the first night we moved into this house, you spent the night here alone; now the last night we're here, you are again spending the night here alone."

In a way, that kind of sums up this entire weekend: a whirlwind tour of endings being the same as beginnings.

Our house was packed up into a van in about six hours; in a moment of almost sheer absurdity, the driver asked me to value our possessions (for insurance purposes). I almost laughed out loud: my physical belongings are reduced to a number on a sheet of paper and sum which I pull out my head with no real meaning (how does one place a value on sentiment?).

I was commenting to Uisdean Ruadh on Sunday night that in a way, this represented yet another slow falling away of The Firm (we used the commission on the house as part of the down payment) - the course that was set 5 years ago coming to it's tired conclusion, like Magellen's last circumnavigating ship limping home to Spain - without Magellan. "I failed" I told Uisdean Ruadh. "I failed to hold things together. I should have been able to keep the house."

"You haven't failed" he replied. "You did your best. No-one can dispute that. Sometimes things don't work out."

Sometimes things don't work out - or sometimes they're in God's hands. Either way, it leaves one feeling powerless and somewhat failed.

So I sit here tonight in a house devoid of everything, kept company by a dog, a rabbit, and a cat. The house is not the same as when we moved in: the walls are painted but scuffed, the backyard is landscaped but overgrown, the interior echoing not with laughter or voices but with silence.

But the biggest difference between when I moved in and tonight is that the house echoes with memories tonight: dogs, cats and rabbits run through it, family parties and friends over for dinner, the sound of daughters laughing and crying and arguing and praying.

The difference, I suppose, is that unlike painted walls, memories are things you can take with you. Sometimes, as Uisdean Ruadh says, things don't work out, but you do your best.

Hanging at Krispy Kreme

Today I got up for the first time at my new rental at New Home, checked on the rabbit, watered my dead grass carpet that is my new lawn (lawn care expectation: very low), showered, and then realized I had until 3:00 PM to figure out something to do. I wanted to check my Internet, coffee sounded like a good idea, and it is, after all, Saturday.

Lucky for me Krispy Kreme is nearby.

Not only did I get the Internet, coffee, and a doughnut, I got a sample doughnut as well - sort of a free two for one!

It's a bit interesting (not the doughnuts of course, although the lemon filled is tasty!), because I think this is the first time in at least a month I've gone out and actually sat down, and the first time I've actually gone with no other reason than to sit and eat and relax. I'd like to say it's because I'm trying to be frugal - and sure, that's involved - but just as much it's a sense of relief of the end being near.

I honestly feel a sense of relaxing, something that I haven't felt in some time. The move is happening, the last great drive is happening, home is finally "home", and life can actually start to get back to a sense of normality.

Oddly enough, I'm reminded of order as I sit here and watch the doughnut machine: Chains and platforms rising and falling, the tops of doughnuts floating through the oil, coming up on the conveyor belt on the line, then going under the line to get sugar. There is a calm sense of placid operation as I sit here at the window and watch the doughnuts slowly roll by in ordered rows.

Aha, you say, he's finally lost it. Doughnuts and order, 80's music playing in background, sitting on aluminum chairs and he finds some relation to "relaxing".

You're probably right - but at the same time, there's a feeling that a great weight is about to fall off my shoulders, of moving on with the next chapters of our lives. If that's encompassed in a Doughnut (lemon filled, no less!), so be it. You psychoanalyze.

I'll let the coffee wash the residual sugar down my throat and just be.

Ave atque Vale

Fergus the Timid left us yesterday.

Fergus was the youngest of our group of three cats - indeed, he was born in the basement of our home in August 1994. He was a coward - he lived most of his life under things, whether a bed, a series of boxes, or under a couch - but a loving cat when he was out.

His health was never good, but especially not after 2002, when he had a terrible respiratory infection. He survived, but apparently at the cost of a heightened immune system, which attacked the enamel of his teeth (causing him to lose all of them). It affected his digestion as well - his litter box was never a pleasure to clean up!

But he was generally a happy cat as far as cats go, happy to see you (once he got over being freaked out by you!), happy to see the girls, always ready to have a pet.

His death comes literally days before our relocation to New Home - the providence of God I suppose, as he probably would not have made it here. We will miss him of course - he'll be buried out by Sasha in the back yard - but in the miracle of God's providence, Midnite the rabbit has come - perhaps for the whole purpose of helping us with our loss.

Sorrow

I was overcome by a wave of despondency this morning as I drove to sign our lease in New Home - almost shockingly so.

I have no idea why. Things seem to be going along fairly well at work and with the move. Very soon, The Ravishing Mrs. TB, Na Clann, Syrah the Mighty, the cats, and the rabbits and I will all be together.

So why so sad?

As I finished signing the lease, got my keys, and headed back to work, I realized what it was: pride and sorrow.

We have had a house for the last 9 years. It was our house. We could do what we wanted with it. It was ours.

To lease is to be humble. To admit, at least for me, that in some small way, I am not in control anymore. To ask for permission instead of acting on things like pets or room colors. To pay only for living, making someone else money instead of ourselves. To be struck, in one brief shining moment, of just how little control I seem to have.

The whole weight of the everything that has happened came plummeting into my soul like a ton of bricks, held in my hand by a pair of jingling keys for home I will live in but is not mine.

This is not where I intended to be.

Little Rivers

"It is not required of every man...to be, or to do, something great; most of us must content ourselves with taking small parts in the chorus, as far as possible without discord. Shall we have no little lyrics because Homer and Dante have written epics? Even those who have greatness thrust upon them will do well to lay the burden down now and then and congratulate themselves that they are not altogether answerable for the conduct of the universe. 'I reckon', said a cowboy to me one day, as we were riding through the Badlands of Dakota, 'there's someone bigger than me running this outfit. He can tend to it well enough while I smoke my pipe after the round-up.'

There is such a thing as taking ourselves and the world too seriously, or at any rate too anxiously. Half of the secular unrest and dismal sadness of modern society comes from the vain idea that every man is bound to be a critic of life and to let no day pass without finding some fault with the general order of things or projecting some plan for its improvement. And the other half comes from the greedy notion that a man's life does not consist, after all, in the abundance of the things that he possesses and that it is somehow or other more respectable and pious to be always at work making a larger living that it is to lie on your back in the green pastures and beside the still waters and thank God that you are alive.

And so I wish that your winter fire may burn clear and bright while you read these pages and that the summer days may be fair and the fish may willingly rise to your hook whenever you follow one of these little rivers." - Henry Drummond (1851-1897), Scottish writer and evangelist

Bible Study and Prayer

Another question from my Failure Day IV list (I've taken the liberty of organizing them by personal, marriage, and family): How much time do you spend reading the Bible and praying each day? Is it commensurate with the time you spend in non-eternal affairs?

Something I've always fallen short in. It is remarkable to me that, being someone who loves to read, that I have such difficulty really sitting down and reading the Bible - reading it with intensity and and attention I would give a good secular book or a text for a test, really digging in and studying, making applications from the text. Too often, it's the sort of thing I do haphazardly if at all.

Prayer is the same way: More often than not, it's a struggle to get out of bed to pray in the morning ("You know, God doesn't care where I am and after all, I'm warm") or in the evening ("I'm so tired -really hard to focus"), or to pray during the day ("This sounds too short and foolish - prayer is supposed to be a formal thing").

The thing I notice as I write these is that in both cases, these involve our communication with God: in reading the Bible, we receive (hear) God speak through His word; in praying, we speak to God, bringing our sins and our cares, aligning our wills to His. That is interesting to me because I spend a lot of time every day communicating with people, and trying to ensure that they have a full and pleasant communication with me, yet I don't do the same thing with God?

And time spent in Bible reading and praying versus non-temporal matters? That's just embarrassing on the face of it. If I spend 30 minutes a day in prayer and Bible reading, I so often feel that I've "reached my max" - yet I can talk to folks on the phone far longer than that, or dedicate an hour or two every day to any temporal activity.

And I wonder why my life is seemingly bereft of God's power and wisdom.

I've made a few changes since I moved. Following the tradition of George Mueller, I now read the Scriptures kneeling morning and night (I use something to rest on if I'm losing the feeling in my legs - no sense in being stubborn about it). Mueller did it to demonstrate both his reverence for the Scriptures as well as his willingness to receive God's word. I will say that it has allowed me to focus more on what I am reading.

I've also changed up my annual reading program (there are many good programs out there that will get you through the Bible in a year), but have added to it by reading my main program out loud morning and evening. This forces me to slow down and think about what I am reading. In the slow down department as well, for books I am reading (secular and non-secular), I am sitting with pen in hand, underlining as I go - I find that this again forces me to slow down and ponder what I am reading.

In the prayer department, I am still woefully inadequate. I was one that was brought up praying eyes closed and kneeling, so prayer lists were not something that I was used to using. I have tried to be better about this for about 5 years - it's a long process, even just in the recalling of writing the requests down and remembering to pray over them.

One of the strengths of the ascetic tradition of the Catholic Church is that they take regular times during the day to worship and pray. This is something I should incorporate more fully into my life as well.

The motto of the Cistercian Order is Laboare est Orare, To work is to pray. This is also something that I think would improve my sense of serving God daily: that my work, done well, is another way for me to give glory to God (and something I could give glory to Him eight hours a day doing).

I can only state for myself, the lack of greater Bible Study and prayer means a greater lack of spiritual growth and power in my own life. The fact that my experience seems to reflect so much of the church today suggests that this problem is not unique to me.

Uisdean Ruadh a rithis

I spoke with Uisdean Ruadh tonight. He's been laid off - again. This would make twice in a year, both times in August. If you've a prayer or a thought for him, he'd be much in appreciation.

Spiritual Gifts

I started wrestling last night with the first of my questions to myself: What are your spiritual gifts?

That presumes a first question, which is what are the spiritual gifts? And that, as the saying goes, is the rest of the story...

It seems that there are a great deal of definitions concerning what are spiritual gifts, depending on where you find them, when you believe they are active (i.e. dispensationalism), or who you happen to be reading.

So I started a different angle: a quote I found from John Piper on the Internet:

“The conclusion I draw from these parallels is this: a spiritual gift is an expression of faith which aims to strengthen faith. It is activated from faith in us and aims for faith in another. Another way to put it would be this: A spiritual gift is an ability given by the Holy Spirit to express our faith effectively (in word or deed) for the strengthening of someone else's faith.”

Now there's a definition I can start with. If you dig a little more into reading, you find some additional thoughts:

1) A spiritual gift is not necessarily a skill or talent. It is something that is supernaturally given, something given only to those indwelt by the Holy Spirit. You can have individuals who are supremely talented, but are not spiritually gifted.

2) A spiritual gift is not given for the benefit of an individual, but the benefit of the body. If someone is using a gift to glorify themselves rather than build up the body, I would be suspect of their claim as a "spiritual" gift.

3) There are aspects of spiritual gifts which we should all manifest: e.g. we should all have faith, show mercy, give generously, serve, be evangelists, etc. It's just that some are spiritually gifted above and beyond such as George Mueller or Hudson Taylor, (Faith), Billy Graham (Evangelism), any of the great teachers that have existed through the ages (Teaching/Pastor).

The major New Testament passages for spiritual gifts occur in Romans 12: 6-8, 1st Corinthians 12: 7-10, Ephesians 4: 11-12, and 1st Peter 4: 10-11. In no particular order they are: ministry (helps), prophesy/proclaiming, giving, knowledge, wisdom, exhortation, leading (administration), mercy, faith, discerning of spirits, evangelism, pastor, and teaching. Other verses include celibacy, hospitality, missionary, martyrdom, and voluntary poverty.

(You'll notice I've excluded healings, tongues and interpretations of tongues, and prophecy as predicting the future, and apostleship. I'm of the opinion [with some other people much smarter than I] that these represent gifts that were given to the early church to authenticate its authority but are no longer active per se as spiritual gifts. Yes, God still heals and yes, he can still do tongues; however I question how these are used today versus how they were used by the early church.)

At least one place I found online also included music and writing (two which I actually think I do have). It was interesting because that was not something that is found up in the above list (well, maybe writing as teaching, perhaps), but certainly music is something which the church has benefited from throughout its history (if you've ever had bad music, you'll understand!). The references they made to music being an spiritual gift were in the Old Testament (which I think you could pull some other ones out of as well).

(Here is where I took the test. I make no claims for accuracy or veracity; however, it was a useful tool to start my thinking processes.)

So let's assume that music and writing are 1) legitimate spiritual gifts; and 2) I actually have them. Then the question becomes "How am I using them to build up the body of Christ?"

Music is easy - at least, it was. Moving has certainly changed that dynamic temporarily. I need to get re involved - in some fashion with music.

Writing is harder. Hard, you say? Yes, not so much because I don't like to write, but because I want writing to do something for me, rather than my first impulse to be something to build up the body. In my heart of hearts, I want writing to support me, to glorify me, to demonstrate my wit and erudition - and oh yes, of course to glorify God.

This, it seems to me, is the difficulty of spiritual gifts: when we become so enamored of us because of the gift rather than being enamored of the Giver who gave us the gift and blown away that we would be of any use at all. When I start saying that I am a writer blessed of God (the same as you will hear individuals claim they are a "Prophet of God" or a "Healer of God" and expect you to treat them accordingly), then I have stepped away from the exercise of the gift to build up the body and am confiscating the use of the gift for my own ends. God says He will give spiritual gifts (we all have at least one!) and that we are to exercise them; He makes no guarantee that we will be recognized or rewarded for them this side of Heaven.

What's your spiritual gift? Are you using it? How often?

Failure Day IV Questions

As I mulled around my earlier entry (maybe go down and read that first), I started to come up with a list of questions, the kind of questions I typically ask of my temporal goals along with the dreaded application, measurement, and follow up. Here are a few that I came up with:

- What are your spiritual gifts? Are you using them?
- How do you glorify God every day?
- What do tithe? Why that amount? Was it a choice or an accident?
- What is your family’s mission in the church and the world?
- What is each family member’s relationship with Christ?
- How much time do you read the Bible and pray? Is it commensurate with the time you spend in non-eternal affairs?
- How much time does your family read the Bible and pray? Is it commensurate with the time they spend in non-eternal affairs?
- Are you praying with your husband/wife?
- What do you want your marriage to achieve for God?
- What do you want your activities and demeanor to say about how you view God and how you glorify Him?
- Is the way you present yourself – what you do, what you say, how your dress, how you act –giving glory to God or to you?
- How much Scripture have you memorized? How often?
- Is the focus of your time, talents and treasures on you, or God?
- How are you actively rooting our sin in your life? What progress have you made? What specific steps will you take?
- In all of this how can – and will – you monitor and mark your progress?

Failure Day IV

Today is Failure Day. For those who may not have been here before, it commemorates the day in 2005 in which The Firm was dissolved and I laid myself off. The great experiment was over. Much like Anzac Day in Australia, I use this day both as a reminder of something tried as well as a day of self assessment.

So what is the assessment this year?

I'm not sure how to answer that question.

The past year (from last Failure Day) has been quite a series of changes. I moved from one employer to another, then to unemployment for four months, then to a new employer in a different state. An easier way for me to think of it is that I was only employed 8 out of the last 12 months.

Financially, things are a mess (given this economy, I'm sure this is a surprise to precisely no-one). The reality is if you remove the paper money increase from our house, we are at approximately the same level as we were 9 years ago. Yikes. That was not a figure I enjoyed looking at when I saw it.

But in looking at it, the idea suddenly burst into my head "But is that the right goal?"

I looked at the presentation I was working on (for myself, mostly - I find that I think very well using a PowerPoint setup). It was about money. Mostly about money anyway, with some "goal" setting put in as well.

The remarkable thing was, it was all about the here and now, and very little about eternity.

The Pastor of the Church here in New Home said an interesting thought this morning, one that I have been chewing on all day: "The church in America stopped growing when it started going to church and stopped being the church" - in other words, when church, when Christianity, became something that we do rather than something we are, it becomes lifeless.

As I looked at my goals, my finances, my "things I'd like to do", it suddenly struck me how absent God was from most of them.

Oh sure, there were the usual tips of the hat: Pray 15 minutes a day, continue in personal Bible study, try a family Bible study, be involved in church. But the more focused ones, the more developed ones, were all things in which God possibly could be present, but not as the singular focus of the activity.

Damning indeed. Has church become something I've done, and not something I am? Certainly, this is one of the calls of Francis Schaeffer, who I've been reading over the last 2 months. He constantly stressed the need for purity/holiness and love, the Christian being the example (flawed, to be sure) of these two realities of the nature of God, as the witness both to the world and to Christians.

This is not the day of reflection I was expecting.

Offenses and Justification

"It (justification by faith) shall be imputed to us who believe in Him who raised up Jesus our Lord from the dead, who was delivered up because of our offenses, and was raised because of our justification." - Romans 4: 24b-25

This was another one of those moments reading the Scripture this morning that made me stop - the kind of moment that makes you wonder "How did I miss this - has this always been here?"

The part that grabbed me was not the first part - justification by faith alone in Christ alone, although you would think that would be enough to blow my mind. No, it was the second part "delivered up because of our offenses, and was raised because of our justification" that literally had me stop and hold my breath.

"delivered up because of our offenses" - that sure doesn't make me sound like anything, does it? Christ was delivered up to be mocked, scorned, beaten, and crucified - because of my offenses. He was given in place of me. My offenses - the ones that I so often just sort of don't think of as being so serious? Oh, those offenses.

"raised because of my justification" - Christ was raised by the Father for me, for my justification. If there was no one else in the world, it would just be only me. God exercised His power to raise His son, who died for me, so that He could justify me, pay the price of my sin, so that I could live eternally with Him.

Does this stun me as it should? Does this create a sense of awe in me? Do I truly reflect on the heinous nature of my sins, the sins that Christ had to die for? Do I seek to completely destroy them in my life, or do I see them as not so serious, not so damaging?

For the price Christ paid, why do I cling so stubbornly to them and am willing to live so flippantly with them?

Timing

In the course of the last nine days, I have received ten contacts concerning potential job offers. Ironically, 6 of them were in Old Home.

On one hand, I have to shake my head (and fist). "Where were you people 3 month ago?" I wonder in my head. "Things would have been a lot less stressful - at least, we wouldn't have to completely disrupt our lives so much - what gives, God?"

On the other hand, as Otis so ably pointed out to me this week on the phone, "Well, it's pretty obvious God wants you in New Home.

"Huh?" that little part of my mind goes that always questions these kind of things. "In New Home? Away from family, friends, a good school, a good church, my bees - good heavens, my life essentially?"

It is interesting to me that I am great believer in the sovereignty of God - but when that sovereignty suddenly does not go quite the way I was expecting, I immediately question God. "What are thinking?" I mutter to myself as I drive to work. "I thought I was doing everything like I was supposed to be. Tearing our lives up at the roots - did I not do something right?"

Then I have to remind myself that: 1) Just because you are doing the right thing doesn't keep you from being moved by God; and 2) Sometimes you do what you are told to do - until new instructions are given. Then you follow the new instructions.

And this does not account for the things that will happen here - that wretched part about not being clairvoyant about the future. I don't know what they will be -but I do know the God that will allow them from his beneficent hand.

And if you're where God wants you, in the center of His will, isn't that really what matters - not the where of your location?

Battle

I am re-reading both Randy Alcorn's Lord Foulgrin's Letters and Francis Schaeffer's The Great Evangelical Crisis. It is a potent combination, one that reminds me I should probably read works in tandem because the sum of the total is greater than the parts.

What the two remind me of is how easy it is for myself to get sidetracked in the realities of life.

In reality, the great drama playing out in the world is not freedom versus oppression, right versus wrong, or even justice versus injustice (although these are all very important). The great drama of the world - in fact, of the universe - is the one running through the soul of every human being currently alive: will it be Heaven - or Hell?

The physical reality we see is not the total reality - we live in a universe inhabited by spiritual beings that are engaged in a titanic struggle not over the control of this universe or even the control of this world - the first has already been decided, and the second will be someday - but over the souls of men and women, souls of people we interact with, love, insult, mock, care for, treat as idols of worship or as objects of use, everyday.

And the stakes of the battle could not be higher. Again, it's not for control of this or any other universe - that's decided. Instead, it is for the eternal destiny of each currently living human. The eternal destiny. Forever. With God or in Hell.

If I can stop and grasp that -indeed, if I can get even a glimpse of that-that changes how I look both at the world in general and my world in particular. Suddenly what happens becomes less important than how I react to it. How I react to people and show them Christ through me becomes less important than how I get my way with them. What I give in service to God, to the cause of salvation, becomes less important than what I get and keep.

In Don't Waste Your Life John Piper compares the difference of a peacetime and wartime mentality through a display on the Queen Elizabeth where a dining room is divided in half, one half with the settings as it would have appeared in peacetime, the other when she served as a troop transport. On one hand, there are linen tablecloths, 12 course settings, and fine crystal and china; on the other , metal trays and bare tables. Everything was stripped down because there was a war on, and the purpose of the ship was different.

The reality is, that is true today. I don't just say "for the Christian" because in reality we are all impacted by this, Christian and non-Christian alike, even though all do not see it. The battle rages around us daily, hourly - as one author said, "As you read Ephesians 6:10-18, you can almost hear the smoke and fire, the clash of arms".

As K.P. Yohannan says in Revolution in World Missions every minute thousands of people die (life being 100% fatal). How many of those have never heard the Gospel, never seen the Gospel as lived out?

There is a battle on. As a Christian, am I engaged - or do I blithely wander through life, thinking the whole purpose of creation and Christ's sacrifice is purely to make my life more pleasant, with Heaven thrown in besides?

Thought

"But something has happened in the last sixty years. The freedom that once was founded on a biblical consensus and a Christian ethos has now become autonomous freedom, cut loose from all constraints. Here we have the world spirit of our age -autonomous Man setting himself up as God, in defiance of the knowledge and the moral and spiritual truth which God has given. Here is the reason we have a moral breakdown in every area of life. The titanic freedoms we once enjoyed have been cut loose from their Christian restraints and are becoming a force of destruction leading to chaos. And when this happens, there really are few alternatives. All morality becomes relative, law becomes arbitrary, and society moves towards disintegration. In personal and social life, compassion is swallowed up by self interest. As I have pointed out in my earlier books, when the memory of the Christian consensus which gave us freedom within the biblical form is increasingly forgotten, a manipulating authoritarianism will tend to fill the vacuum. At this point the words 'right' and 'left' will make little difference. They are only two roads to the same end; the results are the same. An elite, an authoritarianism as such, will gradually force form on society so that it will not go into chaos - and most people would accept it."
- Dr. Francis Schaeffer, The Great Evangelical Disaster (1984)

To Each/From Each

A subtle distinction struck me this week as I was reading through the story of the servants and the talents in Matthew 25.

In Matthew 25:15 it states "And to one he (the master) gave five talents, to another, two, and to another, one, each according to his ability, and immediately he went out on his journey."

"To each according to his ability." Hmm. A variation of this phrase may sound familiar. It's from Marx: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need."

As I pondered this, I was struck by the fundamental difference between God and man. God, the giver, grants us according to our ability, not removing things from us based on our ability. But God also expects us not to spend them on ourselves but to use it for His work and His glory (read the rest of the parable [Matthew 25:14-30, James 4: 1-3]).

The natural man, by comparison, is a taker. He (we) takes what he wants (tangible and intangible) to slake his own purposes and lusts. This should not come as a surprise - the Father of Lies started this trend by desiring to be like the Most High, not from any sense of glorifying God but from the sense of ruling and gratifying his own sense of pride.

Now here's the irony: The world has so reversed the two ideas that the world system (cosmos) is seen as a giver and God is seen as a taker.

Why? The world has come to interpret giving as only that which brings pleasure, power, or glory to self. Giving in this sense becomes no more than gratification dressed up in finer clothes. And God, the giver of all things, becomes a taker in this cosmos economy because He does not call for self gratification but self denial and service, of glorifying God and serving others through the gifts which He has given.

The second irony is that in fact God is the final giver. As with the Master in Matthew 25, when God returns He will judge how well we used what He gave us - so the the self denial and service are turned into rewards, while the self gratification for ourselves becomes the true "taken away."

Self denial for rewards. Service for glory. We accept that hard work and deferred rewards works here on earth, but fail too often (as Christians anyway) to fully grasp how the principle also works in the heavenly economy. If we truly acted this way, if we truly thought and believed this way, if we vigorously developed and debated the idea this way - could we change the perceptions?

My hopes are not high -but at least we could give evidence to a God who gives freely, loves much and is worthy of our praise. That cannot be a bad thing.

Storm

Water falls on self,
As a pool gathers the warm
summer's offering.

Rain is warm, not cold;
While clouds look same as before:
Change of (l)attitude.

Hanging with Francis

I am taking part of my sojourn here at New Home to re-read some items which I have read before but need a bit more time to mentally roll over in my mind (I've got nothing but time right now). Currently, I am in the process of re-reading Francis Schaeffer.

I've read Escape from Reason, A Christian Manifesto, and True Spirituality, am working my way through The God Who Is There, and have The Coming Evangelical Disaster (with The Mark of a Christian) to go (and that is scarcely all that the man wrote). In reading his work, one cannot help but take notice of the fact of the sweep of his knowledge base (philosophy, theology, the arts) and his ability to follow the flow through history.

His level of intellectualism and methodical reasoning also give me pause, because he represents a line of though which has become increasingly absent from the church, and it's ability to interact with the world. Not just the church though; it's the world as well.

We've lost the ability to think, to look hard at an issue and ponder its application. It is difficult to fathom that within 2-3 generations we lost this ability; we are, as someone so eloquently put it, "entertaining ourselves to death". The world has by and large lost the ability to honestly deal with the nature of truth, having drowned it out in a flood of shallow entertainment and adherence to idealistic nihilism that proclaims "I am correct no matter what" conveniently ignoring the implications and ends of their thought patterns and beliefs; the church has lost the ability to honestly deal with the world by retreating into an faith without intellect and proclamation without engagement.

The world I cannot directly help, as it has little interest at the moment in correcting itself. The church, as the body of Christ, I am commanded to help, or at least try to: the question is, does it have the same interest in being helped?

Is Today the Day?

How often do I think about my death?

That was the question of the sermon yesterday morning, preaching on 1st Corinthians 15: 35-58. The pastor raised the point that we do not ask two questions of ourselves daily that the early church asked:

1) Will I die today?
2) Will Christ come today?

The key to wasting your life, he stated, is to live like you have tomorrow.

That strikes me as funny, because so much of modern American life - of my own life- is built on the idea that we do have tomorrow. Plan for advancement, plan for retirement, plan for the weekend - always something is set off for tomorrow, which by default we assume we have. Not to be given as a gift, but to have as a divine right.

Not that there is anything wrong with planning. But planning presumes that tomorrow will be there. And tomorrow may never come. We make our plans and so often fail acknowledge the sovereignty of God in our lives and the universe:

"Come now, you who say 'Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit'; whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or than.' But now you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil." - James 4: 13-16

If I believed tomorrow would not come - if I knew that tomorrow would not come how would that change today?

If I knew that I would not wake up after I put my head down on my pillow tonight, how would I pray differently? Serve differently?

What am I clutching to my chest as mine that I would release if I knew I would never use it again?

And now that I ask myself all of these questions, what am I going to do about it?

What are you going to do about it?

Vie Rides Again!

My friend Vie and his new band have a new CD: Red Letter Read.

You should go to their website: http://www.redletterread.com/

The CD is officially released tomorrow. I'm not sure when it will be for sale, but if like Christian Rock Praise music, you should buy a copy.

On second thought, buy two: one for you and one for someone else.

A Buttercup Moment

I Corinthians 15:35-45

"Death used to be an executioner, but the gospel has made him just a gardener" - George Herbert, Welsh poet and priet (1593-1633)

The Audience of One

"The point is, we can't hide anything from Him and it's silly to try. I don't know if He cares about all the details, like what kind of toothpaste we use, but He certainly cares about spiritual growth and moral issues. If we're doing something right, it doesn't matter if other people disapproved. All that matters is what He thinks. If we're doing something wrong, it doesn't matter if no one else knows, God does. He sees us as we are. He knows everything we're thinking, everything we're doing. I heard someone put it this way: God is the Audience of One. There are no secrets from Him. He's our judge, and His opinion is the only one that ultimately matters." - Ryan Lawrence, Lord Foulgrin's Letters (Randy Alcorn)

How much do I grasp that I am continually before the Audience of One? How often have, in the dark of night or the dark of my own mind, conceived things that are sin, flirted with temptations instead of roundly casting them aside - nay, encouraged them, rolling them around in my mind like a fine piece of dark chocolate in my mouth, savoring the flavor? In all of these times, even as I appear unchanged on the outside, do I understand that I am wide open to God?

Or on the other side - how often do I seek to do things because they will accrue the praises of men rather than the praise of God? How often have I turned aside from the thing I should do because no-one would know, there would be no recognition? How often have I reluctantly served, harboring thoughts of resentment that I was not praised rather than thoughts of rejoicing that I was privileged to serve?

How often do I truly think of the Audience of One? How real is He to me?

A Visit With Failure

I was sitting at my computer when Failure came by unannounced and unexpected. I had not intended or planned to see anyone that night: my roommates, young and college age, where out having a night life while I, married and frugal, was spending the evening in the apartment reading and getting ready to write.

I caught a glimpse of blue-while out of the corner of my eye as I heard the creak of the corner of the mattress being sat down on. As I had not expected any visitors, I felt little need to turn and acknowledge her presence.

"You're trying it again, aren't you?" came the voice as the rustling sounds suggested hair being pushed behind ears and shoulders. "It's really hot here. Did we have to do this now?"

"If you don't like it, leave. If you're hot, sit under the fan" I retorted, not dignifying the comment with eye contact.

A soft thwap and the rustling of papers on my desk suggested that a fan had been brought out and was being used. "It's not a question of like, you understand" she purred, banishing annoyance from her tone in an attempted exchange for results. "It 's just that it's my duty to remind you of things you can't do and you're not good at."

I spun around at that and saw the blue-white yukata covered shape hop over on the mattress, afraid I'd take more action that just whirling. The fan had stopped in mid-move; when it was apparent I'd do no more than just glare, it started up again.

Failure pouted. "We always go through this: for a while you're sensible, then you decide you "want" to do something, and then we come back to this. You think you can, but you really can't. Remind me: your writing, it's so good you've managed to complete how many manuscripts?" Her smile was as insincere as her tone, the long sleeve of the yukata trailing the movement of the fan.

I snorted in response. "Doesn't matter how much I haven't done, I only need to keep trying. Dedication, you know. New place, new life, new time. Now off with you." I pointed at the door.

The low sound of her laugh beat a countertempo to the fanning. "Quite brave now, aren't we? Reading always makes this way. It's cute."

Again I pointed. "Off. I've enough of you. Maybe I'll never get beyond the basics, maybe I'll never be good, maybe I'll never be published. But none of that is a reason to accept you. If I fail, I fail - but not because I stopped trying."

The bed creaked as she got up, still fanning herself. "I'll be off then - but I'm pretty sure not for long. Maybe I'll be back for the cool season here." She strolled out of the room, giving the impression that she was leaving of her own accord, not being asked to.

I turned, barely hearing the door shut as I got back to the computer. Note to self: lock the doors of the room and of my mind before I start this next time.

Planning

We're starting to enter the home stretch of the relocation: Home lease - check; home sale ongoing - check; moving date set - check; kid's school - check; new church - ongoing.

It's the last little details that are starting to come up that are of themselves minor, but are seeming to bother me: bank, reliable mechanic, exactly what way am I going to get to work, where's the best place to shop based on where we are, a new church (again) - those things that in some ways I need to have an idea about before everyone else gets here.

I say last little, but they seem not to be little in my mind - I guess because I want to make the right choice the first time instead of making choices which are not as good and/or convenient. Because I've made those choices before, only to find out that once we were in a place, they really weren't the best or most convenient choices.

Planning. So much of life is about planning, thinking ahead instead of just reacting as things come into place. I look back now, especially now that I am working with individuals 10-15 years younger than I am, and I suddenly realize all the time and effort that I have wasted. It's a sad thing - you see individuals whose lives in their mid-twenties still revolve around X-Box or Wii and you want to scream "Do you realize how precious your time in life is? Why are you wasting it on things that are of no value?" to which they nod, smile at you in that sort of "Oh-You're-an-old-person" way and continue on with what their doing.

Planning. Efficiency. The older you get, the more you realize there is less and less time to waste.

A Whack on the Side of the Head

I got an electronic invite yesterday from my friend Vie, who said "The CDs are on my front porch; where's my book?"

Yikes.

Vie, my musician friend, already has one CD that I enjoy immensely and has been working on a second one for some time. Almost every week in the spring, I was faithfully bothering him about it, to which he replied "Where's the book?" I would laugh, say I was working on it, and we would carry on.

But now he reminds me of it, even as the thought floated through my head this morning as I ran. He finished his project; what about mine?

Why have I given up right now? I could come up with a variety of excuses, but they would simply be that - only excuses. Like all other things, to read of the struggles that some of the great authors went though to get published (and this before the advent of electronic media) is both humbling and indicative of my laziness - because let's call it what it is.

I have books on writing with me in New Home. I have time. Every excuse I come up with - I can't write well for a sustained period of time, I'm boring, I can't characterize - just seems to expose me more and more. What do I really want?

"Crossing at a Ford

'Crossing at a ford' means, for example, crossing the sea at a strait, or crossing over a hundred miles of broad sea at a crossing place. I believe this 'crossing at a ford' occurs often in a man's lifetime. It means setting sail even though your friends stay in harbour, knowing the route, knowing the soundness of your ship and the favour of the day. When all the conditions are meet, and there is perhaps a favourable wind, or a tailwind, then set sail. If the wind changes within a few miles of your destination, you must row across the remaining distance without sail.

If you attain this spirit, it applies to everyday life. You must always think of crossing at a ford."

- Shinmen Musashi no Kami Fujiwara No Genshin (Miyamoto no Musashi), A Book of Five Rings

Who Am I?

I am struggling to not be myself in my new location and position - as if I know who "myself'" really is.

Long ago, I had a manager whom I revered as a role model comment to me one day on the job "You know Terry, I'm not really one to speak about conforming to normal behavior" (and he was not), "but it occurs to me that management will find it hard to promote a guy to more responsible positions if they see him jumping up and down and waving to folks inside the manufacturing facility." And so I took what he said to heart -or at least as much as I could to heart. I tried to double down, read the usual "how to be successful" books, try tame my behavior into some more acceptable outlets - and to be fair, it does seem to have served me well in certain aspects.

At the same time, I realized tonight, walking around the block in the 8:00 PM 93 degree heat, that this was not just a piece of advice that I was carrying around: it was a strait jacket I bound on myself.

Who am I? Who do I want to be? What am I capable of being? I'm certainly not traditional leadership or senior management material (so say the books) - but look at all the people who are now not "typical" leadership material. I was not deemed acceptable for the pastorate - but there is more than one way to be a light for God. I was not cut out for real estate - but you cannot be successful at someone else's dream, only your own.

Who am I? Whose ideas about me have I continued to carry around? Who am I trying to satisfy? And who should I try to be satisfying, except God?

Seeing Clearly

I'm in the throes of a decision that needs to be made by the end of the day, something I had not planned on having to do: paying my mortgage this month.

My hope was, as we were in the process of relocating and selling, I could get by without this being an issue because the sale would be underway. Instead, I find myself in the position of having to choose to pay with money we could use elsewhere for home deposit at New Home and living expenses or not paying and using the money for a house deposit and living expenses at the potential cost of immediate credit rating and progression of the short sale.

I've received council of belove friends - Uisdean Ruah, Bogha Frois - and The Ravishing Mrs. TB. I've pondered and pondered - if I contact the bank, it will have to be today.

The comment, brought up by Uisdean Ruadh, is the one that continues to plow through my head: the hardship laws are there for a reason, and the reality is, you are at that reason.

Which is remarkable to me, because I don't feel that I am - or I don't choose to feel that I am. But is that me simply denying the reality of where we are? I don't' have to deal with the day to day issues of managing our money as The Ravishing Mrs. TB does.

Am I seeing our situation clearly? Am I seeing myself clearly? Am I looking for an excuse to avoid doing something, or am I being prideful to keep from humbling myself to reality?

Why Do We Do The Things We Do?

Why do we engage in anything - thoughts, behaviours, actions - which are contrary to our own best interest?

Yes, I know I could take the relatively easy way out and say "sin" - and while on one level that would be true, on another level that is just a convenient excuse for the saved Christian. Of course we sin. Of course we have a sin nature which we are (hopefully) dealing with the through the Spirit and the process of sanctification.

But that still doesn't get away from the area of choice, which is where I am this morning. Why do we - goodness, why do I -choose thoughts, behaviours, and actions which are contrary to my own best interest?

It's either one of two things: 1) Making the bad choices meets some kind of need within me even though I don't or can't acknowledge it; or 2) I am making choices based on a script that no longer is appropriate for my life.

1) Making bad choices meets some kind of need within me even though I don't or can't acknowledge it - Interesting, but in some ways this gets me back to sin. Certainly there is a sense in which doing something feels better than choosing nothing. A need to act decisively - or a sense from others that I need to act decisively?

2) Making choices based on a script that is no longer appropriate in my life - Less self awareness here but probably more accurate. It goes along with my truth theme of a few days ago. I make choices based on things that used to be true but maybe are not so much now. I cling to them because the exercise of realizing, acknowledging, and casting them off in favour of other decisions is more than I feel like I am intellectually capable of (i.e. I'm lazy).

In Man of La Mancha, Aldonza sings a song to Don Quixote titled "What You Want From Me?". As part of the song she asks:

"Why does he do the things he does?
Why does he do these things?
Why does he march
Through the dream that he's in,
Covered in glory and rusty old tin?
Why does live in a world that can't be,
And what does he want of me...
What does he want of me?"

For Don Quixote, he does these things because of his world view, a world view that in theory no-one else sees but in fact is more noble than any of the other characters - seeing life as he would have it, not as it is. In his case, realization is brought to him of the difference - but the others try to bring him down to their level of crassness and reality, instead of elevating to his. In Don Quixote's case, his choices were ones which ennobled those around him.

Mine are not nearly so good.

How do I get off the intellectually lazy bus on a regular basis? How do I make choices based on what is now - or even on what I aspire to and wish to be - rather than what is or what has been?

The Man We Fain Would Be

"Every man as he grows into life, finds he must employ such an ecomony on his own account. He is pressed to occupy positions or to engage in work which prevent him from achieving the purpose for which nature has fitted him. He is offered promotion which seems attractive and has its advantages; but he declines it, because it would divert him from his chosen aim. Continually, men spoil their life by want of concentration. They are greatly tempted to do so, for the public foolishly concludes that, because a man does one thing well, he can do everything well, and he who has written a good history is straightway asked to sit in Parliament, or the man whose scholarship and piety have been conspicuous is offered preferment which calls for the exercise of wholly different qualities...

Yes, it is good for the builder to bury the banker that he might have been. It is good for Paul to bury the Saul that he had been. But here is one man within us, whom we are most strongly tempted to bury, to whose funeral we must never, never, go. He is the man of our ideal; the man our prayers; the man we fain would be." - Dr. Marcus Dods as quoted by Frank Boreham, The Luggage of Life.

Truth

"Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed in Him, 'If you abide in My word, you are My disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.'" - John 8:21-32

"Jesus answered, 'You say rightly that I am a king. For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.' Pilate said to Him, 'What is truth'?" - John 18: 37b - 38a

"Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong." - Francisco d'Anconia, Atlas Shrugged


"Deal with the truth as you find it, not the truth as you wish to find it." - Toirdhealbheach Beucail

What is truth? This thought popped into my head as I was wading my way through Atlas Shrugged - but also has been a theme as I have made sojourn here in New Home, in many many ways a sort of mini-remote island experience cut off from friends, family, church, and most activities that I did as well as a great deal of news. It has been a time where for a great deal, I have had books, thoughts, and the Internet to ponder.

How do we use truth? What do we base our life on? Do we even bother to search it out anymore, or do we merely accept what we are given at face value? Or just settle into our own version of what we believe the truth is?

The English word "truth", for those that were wondering, is not actually derived from Greek or Latin but rather comes from the Old English "treowth" which means "fidelity". Which is actually not a bad definition at all: when were are truthful, we are faith (showing fidelity) to the thing or facts as they are.

Truth is a sort of dirty word in much of today's culture, both modern and philosophical - and the idea of a "True Truth" (as Francis Shaeffer would say) even more under attack. Most here are probably familiar with the concept of "It's true for you, but not for me." Truth, in so many ways, is seen by this time and space as something which is subjectively true rather than objectively true.

The difficulty with that thinking is simply that it is never faithful to the end. Inevitably, false versions of the truth stop short of the full implications of the truth - and individuals refuse to embrace the totality of the truth and where facts lead but stop at their "version" of the truth. And if one cannot be faithful to the full truth, one is simply not truthful, embracing false versions of truth.

God is a God of Truth. He calls His people to be those of truth - not only about Him, but I would also submit about everything. Christians should above all others be people of ruthless honesty (but not ruthless about how we present it), a people who are committed to seeing things as they really are and not shunning away from the uncomfortable parts or wishing that there was truth other than that which they find.

Are we truthful with God? (Probably seldom as much as we should be) Are we truthful with ourselves? (Usually only when it is of benefit to us). Are we truthful with our spouse? (Insert your own answer here) With our children? With our friends? With our community? With those in the church and out of it? With the nations?

The world is awash in half truths, false truths, bad truths, and untruths. We substitute everything else for truth because we can't find truth around us.

Let the Church, at least, be a place of truth for a world controlled by the Prince of Lies.

And let it start with me.

Atlas Shrugged

I finished rereading Atlas Shrugged this weekend. I forgot what a really good book it is - it is one of the books I can honestly say that the more I read it, the more I see in it. It's remarkable how a really good, intellectually engaging book reminds one of how much less so much that passes for literature truly is.

Rand's philosophy, Objectivism - that everything should have an objective reason purpose behind each act (the Toirdhealbheach Beucail short statement) - is not for all, and her atheism is somewhat disturbing considering she saw the effects of an atheistic government in her youth in the form of Soviet Russia. Still, for an approximately 1070 page novel the story moves, the characters are memorable, and the plot is engaging.

Rand is not shy about her characters: her heroes and heroines are bold and heroic, the villains weak and unattractive. But the thing that surprise me the most this time as opposed to the first time is how truly motivating her heroes are. To read of John Galt or Hank Rearden or Francisco Domingo Carlos Andres Sebastian d'Anconia or Dagny Taggart is to walk inspired literally to excel to the best of one's ability - that in fact one should do one's best, should live to a higher standard, should simply be to the utmost capacity that one has to exist - these are the things that inspire me long after I put the book down, or call me to go back to it after I have moved into other things.

The question is, how does one put that inspiration into daily practice?

Holiday

Today being July 3rd is the first official holiday/day off that I've had since being laid off.

Days off are one of the luxuries that only the employed can truly understand. I remember when Memorial Day was coming around this year being surprised by the fact it was here so soon and the lack of impact it had on me. When the approach was pointed out by me, my reaction was similar to "Oh - for me it's just another day not working."

But now I'm on the other side.

And what a strange other side it is. I cannot remember a situation where I had a three day weekend off without The Ravishing Mrs. TB or Na Clann or even my greater family around - 17, 18 years? One is confronted in a small way with the problem of the workaholic: what am I to do today?

Catch up mostly: a little cleaning, a little laundry, actually waking up and trotting off to work quickly, reading without a sense of having to finish to do something else, and most of all getting ready to go see some old friends I've not seen in 4 years.

Do we work to treasure the times we don't work all the more?

Look Who's Coming to Dinner

So as a special treat last night, I got to have dinner with Otis. He had some business to conduct not far from here and so made the drive up last night to visit me in New Home. We engaged in one of the modes of food (BBQ) that New Home is known for, and chatted the evening away.

It provokes a moment of reflection for me. I've known Otis something like 8 years now, when I first met him through the church we were both attending at the time and he was having a men's study in his home. It makes me reflect because you never know where friendships are going to blossom - I cannot think of anything directly that would make the think that the friendship I have with him is what it is today. It was an easing in, rather than a sudden realization of "Hey, this is someone that I can build a real relationship with, and have it grow even stronger even though we are states away from each other."

This is in contrast to those friendships where you try to make them happen because of some reason - the person is significant in some way that is meaningful to you, you seem to share a common interest, or there is something about the person that makes you want to be associated with them. So often, those do not end up working because they are built on some goal to the relationship rather than the relationship itself.

It's actually a lot like dating and marriage - we date those who we think have something that is attractive to us be it looks, money, or interests, but those marriages that last end up being built on the relationship with our spouse, rather than the things that the relationship has or can offer of itself - because all too often, those things can go away and all you are left with is the relationship. Woe betide the weak relationship built only on things.

And actually (if you carry it that far) it's like our relationship with God: so often we desire God for what He can do for us, rather than the relationship that we can have with Him. And so often, people fall away from God because the things suddenly do not appear (the great and dangerous Achilles heel of the "Health and Wealth" gospel) and interpret that as God not loving them rather than realizing that God loves us through those situations and that it is our relationship with Him is paramount, not what we get from Him.

Powerful stuff indeed. I should have Otis out for dinner more often.

The Vague Feeling of Dread

I am finding myself dogged more and more (growing geometrically, it seems) with the sensation of being lost.

Lost? Separated to start with - both from family and church. Friends and family to the extent of not contacting them as much as I'd like due to the hours I'm working. A real sense of being somewhere without truly being in the place I am.

But even below all this, there is a definite sense of spiritual attack, of being set up like a target - the "antelope away from the rest of the herd" syndrome, where it's the separated animal that becomes the focus of predator attacks. No, fingers have not started writing on my mirror and the oatmeal has not talking to me in the morning. But there is a real sense that I am isolated and alone.

Perhaps this is God reminding me of the way things really are without Him all the time?

Last Calls

This weekend was good, as it is always good to go to Old Home and see The Ravishing Mrs. TB, Na Clann, the larger family, and friends. But in a real way, it was Last Call as well.

First was on Saturday, at the Family Reunion. Now, there have been family reunions in the Toirdhealhbheach Beucail family since before I was I, probably dating back 50 years or more to the post Gold Mining Generation. For years there were two celebrations, one in Summer in the High Sierras, one in Winter at the Ranch before it become our Ranch. It was hosted by two of the five sisters of my grandmother.

As the years have gone on and they became older and slowly they stopped happening - the Christmas one first when Uncle Brian passed away in 1978, then the summer one as the sisters got older and the family drifted out. My mother took up the torch, saying that she would continue to have them as long as the sisters were still alive. Every year for at least the last 10 she has faithfully prepared the house in June or July, sending out invites to all those on her list.

This year was the least turnout ever - literally, with the exception of Auntie Emma (one of the two surviving sisters) and one set of cousins, the crowd was exactly the same as we have at Christmas e.g. my mother's immediate family. One or two called to say they could not come, but the vast majority did not.

And that's when my mother said "This is the last one."

Not the last reunion, just the last time of doing it family. We'll invite my in-laws next year, and my sister's in-laws, and Uisdean Ruadh, and others we know in our lives. A reunion - but in a real sense the functional family we have, not the family defined by blood.

The second Last Call came Sunday morning as I was working to get the last of the wheat in in my garden. It was a fine crop - better than I could have hoped - and I wanted to at least get in before something more happened.

And then it hit me as I was snipping with the cutters in my right hand and grabbing the head and dumping it into the bucket with my left: this is the last time I will be doing this in this garden. I stopped for a moment and looked around at the uneven growth, the patch of earth I have poured the last 4 years of my life into winter and summer, spring and fall, sighed, and kept reaping.

It was a reminder - in fact, both were reminders of the fact that life is actually incredible mutable, changing in ways we cannot imagine just a short time before. The Old Ties are broken, true - but replaced with ones that are equally as delightful and in many ways, more meaningful.

Home Again Home Again Jiggety Jig

So here I am back at Old Home tonight. The Ravishing Mrs. TB came and picked me up from the airport.

It was odd -both the drive home as well as coming in the door. Essentially, I have not been here for a month. My things are here, and An Teaghlach is here, but in a funny way, this is no longer my home, more of a place that I visit.

Not that I am in any way ungrateful to be home - no, not at all. I am happy to see The Ravishing Mrs. TB and Na Clann and Syrah the Mighty and the cats and Bella Bunny. It's just a feeling of displacement: I'm not really "at home" here, nor am I really "at home" in New Home either. I'm a sort of wandering spirit, floating between two physical locations yet part of neither.

The other thought that came through my brain as we drove here is that this is probably one of the last times I will come back here. I'll be back at least one more time, and then to move - and that's it. 5 years here, 42 years in California - and off I go. The next time after that, I will be a tourist coming to visit family and friends. It's a bit of a boggling thought, if I think about it too long.

But that, I think, is for later. Just time to enjoy being with the ones I love.

Remembrances

I spoke with my mother last night. She let me know that one of my more distant cousins, in his mid-sixties, passed away from a heart attack on Tuesday night.

He is one that I believe I may have seen once or twice in my life: a real estate broker/developer, he had (apparently, from what I hear) made the choice to not participate in the larger family reunion type events. He was fabulously successful at what he did apparently, had a family - but most of us (especially my generation) never knew him, what he did, or even what really interested him.

And now, he's gone.

It's a good reminder for me not only of the fleetingness of life but of the involvement of family at whatever level. In the end clients may only remember you as someone who did a good deal with or got you this house; only family (and friends) will remember you for more.

Authentic Living

I am quite amazed how easy it can be to lose the sense of and focus on God in day to day living - especially when one's daily routine is interrupted.

The thing that equally amazes me as much is how, when removed from the daily and weekly surroundings and individuals, how so much of what I think I am "doing" is really all on the surface, a sort of Pharisee-like coating. How much am I really living out the gospel in a world where it is desperately needed - not just by behaving a certain way or doing or not doing certain things, but by showing a true difference in how I live, and being willing to demonstrate the hope that is within me?

What does it mean to be a Christian in a time and place which seemingly has no interest in Orthodox Christianity because they think they don't need it? Behaviour is not enough - though to be fair, how we behave should be done to please God, not for the sake of others.

It is in living, in witnessing, in living through our witnessing - which for me begs another question: how well do I do this with family and friends, let alone the world?

Run

So I am trying to get back on schedule with my exercise program here in An Dachaigh Nua. This has been harder than I thought, first of all because I have had to change locations between moving and visiting An Teaghlach which has not given me a consistent trail to do. The second, more crippling, is the weather.

Frankly, it's hot here. Hot whenever the sun is up - and when it's not up, it's moist. Initially I was running in the evening, but that was simply too hot. I tried going for a walk on Sunday and found that just being in the sun was an experience not to be repeated (although interestingly, once I got onto a park trail with what I would assume is more native vegetation, the heat became bearable because of the shade. Urban jungle indeed).

So my choices are morning or evening before or after the sun appears. To add to this, I'm trying to set a schedule I can keep once An Teaghlach comes, since I would like to be consistent. Given the state of our lives, morning it is.

The mornings here are actually a good time to go. The sun is not up so it's not hot yet, but with only a little effort one can become covered in sweat. In fact, on the mornings when there's cloud cover it is almost cool (almost being the operative phrase there). Also interesting (and new to me) are the amount of birds that live here and how vocal they are at all times of day. The stars still look the same though, and the sky goes the same black-blue as I'm used to. And with yet a new neighborhood to look forward to, I'm sure that being away from a busy street will reveal new wonders - making running (hopefully) another new experience and way I can bond with our living choice.

Budding

I have the sense that I am in the process of undergoing something. The most similar experience I can relate is that of what I was feeling last year about this time, a sense of pushing against barriers inside myself that I could not really see. The barriers do not feel as if they're there this time; it is more of a sense of standing on something as a base and stretching out.

Like so much else that seems to happen inside me, it is hard to explain in concrete terms. Perhaps the sense of a flower bud opening is the closest. In one sense, it probably is natural: I'm starting over ahead of my family in a place I've never been with people I've never known. In a real sense, there is no safety net (or at least, not like I have had in the past with friends near and family no more than two hours away).

In the other sense it is naturally unnatural (there's a puzzler for you): there is a sense that in some ways, I am taking responsibility for parts of my life for the first time. This was a semi-conscious decision (semi-conscious in the fact that if I was going to look for work outside of California, this potential always existed) that I at least thought of when I started down this road.

What do I mean? Simply that there are parts of my life that I still, even at 42, fail to act in an decisive and independent way. I agree that moving doesn't magically "make" it happen - but putting one's self in the position of having to deal more directly with them does.

It's odd - but good in the sense that instead of feeling like I am pushing against boundaries, I feel I am growing up from them.

Father's Day 2009

So here I sit, 1746 miles from home, on Father's Day. Kind of odd, as this is the first Father's Day since becoming a father (10 years) that I have not been with my family.

The day was okay, of course - I'm easy enough to entertain: lunch at Costco ($1.61 Polish Sausage and Drink), trip to Borders for a new paperback (with a 40% coupon), a stroll through Target Greatland to discover that no, I can wait a week to bring Toliet Paper back with me but that their yogurt prices are just as good as Costco, and then back to the apartment to read the afternoon away - which for me absent family, is a fine way to do it.

Still, a little bittersweet - as this whole separation has been. It gives me a very brief insight into what it must be like for those who by service (military) or by circumstance (divorce or separation) are away from their families for long periods of time, especially on special days. They have a whole life going on, a whole web of experiences, which you are absent from - or only experience via second-hand phone calls and e-mails. When you get back together - and I have that to look forward to - it will still only be stories instead of the experiences.

In one month I have gone from being with my children 16 - 24 hours a day to not being with the at all. It is a strange circumstance, one which the most selfish might wish for initially (more time to do what I want) but will come to realize only reminds them of the true value of relationships and the hollowness of time spent without them.

Bookends

When I started in this industry in 1996, my first boss was named Mickey. It struck me yesterday that here, 13 years later in a job which in many ways represents as great a change as entering this industry, I have a Mickey reporting to me.

When I gave it some thought, I realized that both of them shared a number of seemingly superficial similarities: both names are shortened for another, both smoke, both are hard workers, both are full of common sense, both have a great grasp of the industry, both have an excellent sense of humor.

It's odd to me that to people with similar names should bookend what is seemingly a section of my life (with, of course, smaller but significant subsections within it), a sort of "Volume VIII of XX" or some such thing. I've often reacted to the idea that life can be easily broken down into "phases" or "seasons" - maybe the lives of others but not my own. Some are simple, of course -high school, or college, or even a family (although this one can transverse several others all on its own) - but others are more complex, especially when we live. Career - which career, the one that you started in, the five you did in between, or the "second" career you picked up after you left the first?

There are interweavings as well, as people, places, and relationships flow in and out of these sections. There are people who are relationships in one geographical place, and those who cover multiple places. There are those you know in one career but never translate to another, and those you know that have no relationship to any career but you know a long time.

Life is complex of course, and more complex everyday. It is gracious of God to remind me that, in the end, all the volumes of our lives are written in His hand. And sometimes, we reach the end of one bookshelf - but we always get to start a new one.

A Useful Tool

We had a client audit yesterday, something which is fairly typical for my industry: clients come in, assess our facilities and our systems, and make a determination whether or not we appear (because after all, they are only a snapshot in time) to be compliant and acceptable for their company's use. We had what sounded like a first for my new employer: an audit by a major company which results in no observations and 4-5 recommendations.

The thing that was really a surprise to me when I went home was how I felt -really good and useful. This after three 12 hour days (two preparation, one audit) was something that I did not expect. Why is this?

Any successful audit, of course, leaves one feeling good. The fact that Quality was praised - and that the President heard and agreed with this statement - is nothing to sneeze at either. But I think the real point for me was the feeling of being useful, of seeing an actual result to all of our effort, to knowing that my opinions and assessments were valued and valuable - like being a tool and being used and knowing that, at that moment, that this is what you were made to do.

Today has come, of course, and fifty other things are sitting on my desk to deal with. But I can now always go back to this moment and say "If I did it here, I can do it again."

Time and Work

I came to the realization this morning (accidentally, as it were) that I am spending approximately 12 hours a day at work. Initially this figure amazed me, but when I sat down and thought about it, suddenly it became quite clear. "Good Heavens" I thought to myself, "12 hours - I mean I expected I would have a learning curve but this is ridiculous!"

But then I sat and thought about it a bit. In reality, I was spending 12 hours at work a year ago, but not in the same way: 1.5 hours driving to work, 8 hours at work, 2-2.5 hours driving home from work. Look: 12 hours, but really only 8 hours.

So I actually gained 4 hours a day.

Which then brought me to the realization that commuting is one of the silliest ideas I have ever heard of - and I should know, because I did it for so long (I have not had a commute of 10 minutes, my current drive time, since 1984). I don't really accomplish anything (except phone calls, of course, and I'm just not really a "Books on Tape" kind of guy), I spend money on fuel, and I have nothing really to show for it - except, apparently, less actually beneficial work for the same amount of time.

A little change will do you good...

Phase II

I have now entered Phase II of my life in New Home: out of the hotel, I am know living in an apartment.

It is unusual for me in a number of aspects: I have not lived in an apartment in 9 years, and I have not lived with a roommate (who was not The Ravishing Mrs. TB) for 17. There's a level of adjustment, of getting used to sharing parts of one's living space with others, that I had quite forgotten was there. It's not bad - just different.

Fortunately for me, between the job and the setup of the apartment (two separate bed/bath rooms) I can come home, make dinner, and disappear into my room to work on and then go to bed.

Ah. Working on. The other part of Phase II. In a way, this is supposedly my ideal environment for doing "thinking things": limited housekeeping, a short commute, few responsibilities, practically zero time spent making meals.

Now, if I could just motivate myself more...

Light Show II

These are the verses I was thinking of:

"The LORD thundered from heaven,
And the Most High uttered His voice.
He sent out arrows and scattered them;
Lightning bolts, and He vanquished them.
Then the channels of the sea were seen,
The foundations of the world were uncovered,
At the rebuke of the LORD,
At the blast of the breath of His nostrils."
- 2 Samuel 22:14-16

Light Show

So I am living through my first severe weather warning/tornado warning storm. It's awesome.

For a Northern California boy, the show is great: flash after flash of lightening, roll after roll of thunder, occasional actual forks of lightning, and a downpour of rain. The wind is whipping the flags at the hotel across the way back and forth, and there was talk (not here yet, anyway) of up to baseball sized hail.

It fascinates me, not just for the light show and rain (which New Home needs badly), but for the fact that it reminds me of the frailty of myself and the overall powerlessness of humans: it's not as if we can stop this storm from moving through, or the lightning striking. It is a real reminder of the majesty and awesomeness of our Creator.

And frankly, it's pretty cool. I love weather!

Busy Busy

One nice thing about a new job is that you're busy again. One not nice about a new job is that you're busy again.

I'm relatively pleased with my self awareness that I came in having not great expectations about the state of things at the new job - as I told my father, "I'm just assuming things are three times worse than what they told me." Yay. I was right.

The struggle for me is not to immediately get sucked into the state of the system, but maintain a dispassionate eye enough to look at the system and analyze it - not just react to it when things come up, your fellow colleagues roll the eyes and say "Oh no, not this again."

Perhaps I make it sound like it's terrible. It's not - but it needs a great deal of refinement. It is a system designed at a different time, for a different company, conceivably making different products, a system there is enough time to fix problems as they occur but not enough time to sit and design a new solution.

Ah, it's great to be working again...

Not Home

Tonight denotes my first full week here.. It's an odd anniversary - for all the fact that I'm working at a job, laboring to finding a home and school for An Teaghlach, and looking for a church home, my mind has still not accepted the fact that I for now, this is my future home. It doesn't really seem to know what to do, except that it keeps telling me that this is "Not Home." Every time I walk in the heat, every time I go outside, every time I drive around, my mind says "Not Home". I'm sure (am I sure?) that the mind will adjust to this after a while and come to accept the new concept of home - except that right now, it sure doesn't feel like it.

And then the thought occurred to me: This is how I'm supposed to feel about the world. That it is not my home, that I'm only a pilgrim passing through. That my real home is somewhere else, and no longer how long I'm here, it's not really "home".

It's interesting to me that I can do it for Old Home/New Home but not for World/Heaven. Why is this? One would think that based on what we know of Heaven, this would become even more critical than that of our temporal location.

If I'm honest, it's because I know more about Old Home than I do about Heaven. I know how it feels, how it looks, how it smells. I know who's there, and what we would be doing if we were there. I know the family and friends that would be there. I can picture it in my mind.

Oddly, that should be true about Heaven as well - except the sensory part. I know who's there and I know the family and friends that would be there. I've hints of what we'd do there. The gap that is missing is the sensory input: the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and sensations of being there. How interesting that a spiritual spiritual location seems bound in my mind by physical things! It is as C.S. Lewis said: we are amphibians, half physical and half spiritual.

Now here's the question: how do I feel for the Heaven as I feel for Old Home?

Thinking I can turn in

One of the great things (I guess) about completely ripping up your life and relocating it is that it disrupts all of your old patterns, allowing you to reconsider what you've been doing, why you've been doing it, and are there things that simply don't make sense anymore or should make more sense. Sometimes we are too much "in" things to really look objectively "at" things.

One item which has come to my attention in the last few days, really since being here in Austin, is this sense I have that things should come to an end - that there should be a finish line, that I can collapse at after the end and head off to the showers. The reality, I'm finding out, is that I can't. I have trained myself to believe there is an end to doing - in fact, there is not.

How did I get here? Honestly, I believe being good at school really contributed to it. School is a defined term - you go for a fixed period, you do certain things, you get a grade, you go on or take a break. In many cases, activities or hobbies not school related are the antithesis to this: they are not necessarily tied to a particular time or place and are ongoing activities.

The reality is, in this life we never "arrive" at the place where we can throw it all down prior to heaven. Certainly, the mode of what we do may change, the activities may become different - but that is a different thing than ending or stopping.

How would how I conduct my life change if I saw things as a series and continuum of things to be accomplished rather than a one time event to be reached and stop?

Learning to Fly

I am running the gamut of emotions. On the one hand, it's is very nice to be employed again. My learning curve is going straight through the roof, both for the knowledge as well as the status of the company. It is as if I have come into a play midact and am trying to figure out the characters and their relationships.

On the other hand, I am struggling to not worry. So much else on my mind: the house at home, finding a place to live here (short term and long term), a school for Na Clann, a church; all cast in the deadline of time.

Moments of faith, I suppose, those times when we go where we think were called by God only to finding out the great feeling of confidence go away and we are left only with faith and God. The place where faith grows, I suppose: learning to fly.

Wednesday Morning 8 AM

So here I am in Austin, ready to start my first day of work.

To be honest, I've got butterflies.

Two reasons really: The first is simply that it's been a little while since I've actually worked. It's odd to think of that, but there it is. I'm sure I'll do well once re-entered into the fray, but there is still that nagging feeling, the one of being out for a while and wondering how well I'll perform.

The second, somewhat related, is simply about how I will do. This is one of the those opportunities that doesn't come along too often, the chance to totally reinvent yourself to the extent that you desire to. Just think: no-one knows me here, the good and the bad. It's an exciting opportunity, yet at the same time concerning because I deeply desire to make some changes within myself, both my lifestyle as well as my deportment. I need, in a sense, to be me while not being me.

Hmm. There's a conundrum. A tabula rosa with things written under the surface already, sort of like a Master's painting painted over an older work.

As Julian of Norwich said, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well." I'll go in and do well. It's just the waiting that's killing me.