The Banzai Chronicles

Trying, trying again on having a bit of discipline with my morning, simply setting aside time before anything else for Scripture reading and whatever prayer, journaling, etc. may arise from that. Realized at ManTime that I really need this space in to grow in my relationship with God—which, not coincidentally, affects my relationship with all reality.

We've had great help from friends thus far in our painting adventures at the new house: Jenna, Linda, and the Andersens have all pitched in and made the load lighter, and some treats from velouria73 made it that much yummier. After a long day Saturday, we had our first deck cookout with Brendan & Janet, and later enjoyed fireworks and rootbeer floats from the smaller roof deck. It was a good glimpse into the lives we want to live in the house.

There's so much more to go. It's hard not to be overwhelmed by it, but I know it will get done and we'll be fine. Paul & Jenna are coming over tonight for more painting help (notice a theme?), and we want to set up some kind of schedule in which other friends can pitch in as they like (I had to get a volunteer schedule out for work before I could devote any time to our own version).

Was looking forward to breakfast at Voula's with the Andersens, but just noticed (thanks to linking this entry) that they're closed through Sunday. Bummer.

barlow_girl and I are just outside of Poulsbo, WA, staying at the Green Cat Guest House for a couple of days after attending our friends' Santino & Alica's wedding Sunday evening. As we discovered last year, Sunday evening weddings are always so much more enjoyable when we can take a couple of days of downtime together afterward. It's been so good to slow down, explore, talk, and get our bearings a bit for whatever the road ahead might bring.

It's a great time to do that since, among other things, we're moving this month! We'll be settling into a house (rental—we didn't get rich or anything) just a few blocks up the street over the course of July, which will also involve lots of painting, etc. We're excited about the new place as well as the opportunity to make a new home together—when we married, Amy moved into my apartment, and while it's been great, this will be the first place that's "ours" from beginning to end, warts and all. It's also about double the space (from around 700 square feet to around 1400), which should make the moving process a lot simpler. We don't want to be in anything ginormous, though—this seems really extravagant to us—so we'll see how it goes.

There's a lot more to being on the same page than simple logistics, though. I wonder if the "marriage retreat" industry is fueled by the fact that so many couples don't—don't slow down, don't get away, don't talk together about what they value, where their life together is headed, what the vision, mission, and purpose of their marriage is. Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with getting a helping hand from a retreat others set up for us, but couples need to take responsibility for caring for one another and their marriages, even in stumbling steps with big risks and regular failures. It's not easy to own our own marital "agendas," and it can be pretty tough to even wrap our hearts and minds around the hugeness of it sometimes, but really, it's our work to do together and it's worth bucking up and doing.

Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others.

—Ecclesiastes 7:21-22

Over the past few months, I've realized that a common thread in my relational struggles is trying to figure out how to take people seriously. Not that I don't; rather, I try, but regularly find that I'm hearing something different from what they may be saying or meaning (and to further the confusion, those two often aren't the same thing). Much of the time, I hear what it would mean for me to say what I'm hearing, and that's rarely the same. And though I don't want to be vain (or at least don't want anyone to believe I am), the truth is that, because of a heap of counseling training, I'm probably better equipped to listen than most. So when I hit a wall in the process, simple tips, tricks, and techniques rarely have much to offer.

What does it mean to really hear people, and how far am I really called to go in the effort? On the surface, it seems like one of those always-good, always-right, always-noble pursuits, but that assumption is worth examining rather than swallowing whole "just because." Right away, I have to acknowledge that I'm limited, which means A) I can't do everything, and 2) what I actually can do will also be imperfect and limited. That's a basic ground rule for life on Earth, one which clearly applies in listening. It doesn't preclude trying or being faithful—I'm called to trust in God's grace more than I trust in my own perfection.

With that understanding in mind, and in light of the Teacher's musing above, I have to admit that I can't figure out how to take people seriously much of the time, and that it's far from a universally good pursuit over which I should constantly exhaust myself. Being tired isn't the only cost, either—so often, I'm angry when I hear people say they value something, then live in an entirely different fashion. The more I try to take what I hear from people seriously, the more my nose is rubbed into that gap. And I hate it. Hate it.

None (or at best, few) of us are who we'd like to believe ourselves to be. I'm certainly not. Could it be that truth and grace sometimes (perhaps often) calls us to not take seriously what we hear from others? How do we do this in a way that's not dismissive, or is that simply the cost of our not speaking truthfully to one another (and indeed, to ourselves)?

Also, there's the question of scale: how many people should I try to hear at all? Of these, how many should I work to take seriously? The obvious starting point is "not everyone," but our culture still suggests I can do more than may be possible or good. At risk of being too "meta," online journals and blogs are great examples of this trend*: we can publish and read thoughts far outside the context of full relationship (or even personhood), then try to discern their meaning in the absence of relational cues (even with those we know), with as many "people" as we can jam into our browsers. When does that stop being scalable, and when does it stop being good? And how does intimacy factor in, knowing that our writings may reflect us at our most filtered and deluded, even when we might want to view them as authentic and raw?

No answers, just open questions, along with the slowly dawning realization that I may be regularly fighting the wrong battles on far too many fronts.


*I first met my wife through LiveJournal, so I'd be hard pressed to view this situation through a Luddite lens (can Luddites have lenses?). But I have to, have to consider the realities and their implications.

My friend Kendall has recently adopted a morning routine that includes journalling; hearing about that and its rewards reminds me of how rich that kind of simple discipline has been for me in the past. For years I've struggled with (and against) creating spaces for stillness in my life. Part of me would very much like to stop kicking against the goads, so this morning and this entry are initial steps in that direction.

Likewise, prayer and Scripture reading have been sporadic and/or anemic for me, in part because those disciplines have had their "home" in that space. I'm talking about quiet time, though I'm resistant to the term for all sorts of reasons (many good, many petty). And I don't know which deficiency has given rise to the other, only that they're obviously related. So I'm trying to create the space again, in the spirit of "if you build it, they will come."

Yesterday was full of things I'd rather avoid, to the point of feeling sick to my stomach time and again. From hearing friends rail against the church to having uncomfortable conversations to high-end clothes shopping, I just wanted to withdraw over and over again. When I think about it (from a safe distance), it seems this literal gut reaction may be a great indicator of where I need to be saved.

The need for salvation is ongoing for all people. As a Christian, I'm called to embrace this and to look to my Savior, crying out to Him for whatever I need and walking forward in faith. It's not the kind of life my flesh wants to live, but it's reality and it's the life I need to live because of that. When I struggle like this, I need to remember and be reminded that I am a man who needs to be saved. My wife barlow_girl is a gentle and loving encourager to me in this, and I thank God for her. Sometimes it takes a while for me to catch on to what He's doing (and often I never do), yet He holds me in my weakness, saving me long before I ever realize that I need it. That's always been His way.

I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up
    and have not let my foes rejoice over me.
O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,
    and you have healed me.
O LORD you have brought up my soul from Sheol;
    you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.

Sing praises to the LORD, O you his saints,
    and give thanks to his holy name
For his anger is but for a moment,
    and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
    but joy comes with the morning.

—Psalm 30:1-5

The guy with dreadlocks, Scripture-tattooed arms, and painter's pants with actual paint stains reads his well-worn Bible and looks up into the distance, considering. Across the aisle from him on the 6:45 #49 bus, I read mine on my iPhone. I am in fellowship with him, far more than I am in so many social diversions and amusements with God's people, because we are seeking Jesus together.

The homeless ladies get on at the stop in front of St. Mark's Cathedral, all their worldly possessions in tow as they break camp again, same as every morning. This is my Father's world.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

The gospel is about church formation before it is about personal formation.

—Scot McKnight, Jesus Creed

Our annual church leadership offsite meeting seemed to go well yesterday. Always encouraging and exciting to hear how God is on the move. My nose has been pressed so hard to the grindstone recently (in part for this very event) that I don't keep a good perspective on the larger picture of what He's doing. Not surprisingly when I think about it, I need others to remind me of who He is and what He's doing on an ongoing basis. And perhaps more surprisingly until I think about it, these necessary others and the reminders God brings in and through them can be remarkably hard to come by for a church staffer.

Who God is and what He's doing are so rarely what I hear about or am tuned into from others. I hear gripes and ideas, wounds and to-dos, evaluations and requests. I don't believe that means we're "doing church wrong" or any such thing; it's just something that can get seriously and hugely out of alignment. And looking at the church as a family system with my old counselor's cap, I'm absolutely part of the system and part of its dysfunction—what I hear is at least as much a function of how and to whom I'm listening as it is about what others are actually saying.

This story of the gospel and its reverberations into our time and culture, this person of Jesus Christ and His relationship with His Bride, this is what's worth working, loving, living, and dying for. Not goal lists or entertaining diversions, not constant churning activity and nitpicking evaluation of projects and people. God has saved His people to be His people, in glory and in the mundane of day-to-day. Choosing one aspect over the other means losing both—they're stitched together like the leather of a baseball.

Much as I love to dabble, design of communities, lifestyles, programs, and systems all takes a back seat to the larger story God is telling—how He's showing up and whether we're showing up. Even when we do so in body, we can still be absent in spirit (though I think the reverse can rarely be true). May I (and we!) be captivated by Him and His story today.

Communicating with people is a huge pain, and I see people who make little or no effort to do so get along just fine (and better than I do), so maybe I'll just quit for a while. No sense trying when it just buys me trouble and when people who don't try get better results.

Grumpy mood, annoyed with everyone and the weather, and guess who's at the lunch counter?

Go away, Dan Savage. Go away.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

My to do list honestly scares the bejeezus out of me this week. Resolved not to freak out about it, going so far as to don my "Now Panic and Freak Out" shirt. All will be well, but holy schnikes, could I possibly have more stuff to do?

Spam is slipping through at a concerning rate in my personal Gmail account. Who in the world benefits from sending this stuff?

Came across this quote that's worth mulling over and taking to heart

If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else we must see our neighbors. With our imagination as well as our eyes, that is to say like artists, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces. Here it is love that is the frame we see them in.

— Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized

What does it look like to really see people? How wide is my capacity for this, and what drains it? Does faith call me beyond what I think I can do, in the power and love of the Spirit?

Another in a string of beautiful mornings—so nice to be able to enjoy our courtyard in peace (unlike last year at this time). Since the MacBook Pro returned from the shop this Tuesday, I can journal from here as well. And while I'm not as oogly about the sunshine as most around here, I do appreciate the mornings and evenings.

We took in Around the World in 80 Days at Taproot last night withSeth & Adrianne. Fun show and good company. Diaconate meeting later this morning, and tonight we're headed to Andy & Wendy's for Galaxy Quest.

Lots to do for our annual Leadership Offsite next Saturday, enough that it's a bit daunting. Mostly, it'll just take plenty of time, and I've tried to set aside enough in my schedule. Hoping to get food catered from Victor's (where barlow_girl and I met up with jmcphers many moons ago), but if they don't call me back, then my hands are figuratively tied. Not too tough to round up another vendor, though.

Thoroughly enjoying the Memorial Day weekend, in large part because it's absent the debacle of last year's model. Relaxing and looking forward to time with friends just adds to the enjoyment, as does the great weather (though I'm completely over Seattlelites' obsession with weather as the fully external determinant of their moods).

Since shipping off my MacBook Pro for repair Tuesday—apparently it likes to act up every year or so, and I think this time might be the end of the line for sinking money into it—my work iMac has been here at home. It's felt pretty good to keep things running from here, and that might affect my rhythms, at least for the summer. Even when I'm a grump, something in me loves the challenge of adaptation.

Through the wonders of the internet, just read a far-away former student lament the ignorance he sees in others, noting how sad or frustrating it can be and how sometimes "it merely reveals how small minded they are." Yuck. Seeing it elsewhere makes me acutely aware of A) how much I don't want to see people that way, and 2) how often I do. It's grotesque, and so very far from the dignity God's image bearers should always hold in the eyes of His people. Change me, Lord.

My schedule's all out of whack trying to manage a longstanding issue with graphics artifacts and frequent freezes on my MacBook Pro. Folks at the Apple Store have been as helpful as they're able, but since it's passed stress testing and they haven't observed the problem firsthand (of course it behaves well for them, but crashes within an hour of coming home!), there's not much they've been able to do yet. Bringing it back today for another look—this means visiting University Village every day this week thus far, which is as close to Hell as I'd like to get.

Sucks that I've been such a grump lately, which isn't anyone's fault but mine. Thankfully there've been great times with barlow_girl and friends over the past few days, mostly untainted by my attitude. Think I'm trying to take on a life that would take at least two of me to manage, but I don't know what to drop (and/or don't know if I'd be willing to do so). Kill my television? Clear my schedule? Box my comics? Thin my friendship commitments? Unplug my internet? Restructure my job? Rhythm eludes me—my elementary school music teacher diagnosed the problem long ago.

In my (seriously lax) Scripture reading, I came to Proverbs 30 this morning and found a kindred spirit in Agur, son of Jakeh. He begins (from verses 1-4):

The man declares, I am weary, O God;
    I am weary, O God, and worn out.
Surely I am too stupid to be a man.
    I have not the understanding of a man.
I have not learned wisdom,
    nor have I knowledge of the Holy One.
Who has ascended to heaven and come down?
    Who has gathered the wind in his fists?
Who has wrapped up the waters in a garment?
    Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is his name, and what is his son's name?
    Surely you know!

Though I may seem confident, this is who I often am inside—worn out, feeling stupid, and acutely aware of my distance from God. And the answer is bracing rather than cuddly: who are you, and who is God? His mighty otherness needs to overshadow me—it's the only way I can see how very much I need Jesus and how precious He is. It's a right perspective which places Him at the very center of my life (and all life).

Dwelling on my inadequacy is incomplete. I must take it all the way to desperate need, and then look up to see how God has met that need in power and love, for all time. Christ's glory stands revealed, pulling me back into His orbit.

Poor I was, and sought for riches, something that would satisfy.
But the dust I gathered ’round me only mocked my soul’s sad cry.
Hallelujah! He has found me, the One my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longings: through His blood I now am saved.

—"Satisfied" (Clara Tear Williams, 1875)

The early sunrises are a bit intimidating when a long day lies ahead. My persistent fear of being used up and exhausted wakes up early, too. Yet, even though I'm tempted to mistrust it, something in me looks forward to the day. Sometimes hope breaks through the Red Rover lineup.

Lots of new things for friends this weekend: Seth & Adrianne married yesterday way up in Vanderhoof, BC, Zack & Gala welcomed their third son into the world, and Ben & Sara were sent home from the hospital, still pregnant with their first son and thankful for God's goodness in keeping him inside a bit longer (they went in for pre-term labor last week at 33 weeks). Thinking about all of their joy, I'm struck by the beauty of faith. We live in an age and culture that exalts the struggle and messiness of belief, and sometimes I forget how beautiful and compelling it is when people actually believe.

That's not to minimize the reality, importance, and beauty of struggling.* It's just so refreshing to see trust in God shining through in joy, not because of denial based in fear, but because God is truly worthy of our trust, and there's a freedom that comes with doing so. That faith is a gift from Him, and I want to look for it more often—inside and out.


*Blogging about faith and beauty almost requires such a disclaimer, which makes me a little sad that faith can't be simply proclaimed as beautiful these days. But I digress, hence the footnote.

Stuff, stuff, stuff. Keeping up (mostly), but some direction, focus, and rhythm would be handy, too. Still trying to jam too much in, I think.

Saw Star Trek last night. Fun and revitalizing to the franchise. Think I'd like to catch the IMAX version before it vanishes on 21 May.

MacBook Pro is still giving me fits regularly. Probably need to work out a repair schedule, because I suspect we'll be running presentations at the June leadership offsite from it. Me dealing with the regular freezes is one thing, but having it affect others and be my responsibility is quite another. Not an omelet I especially need to be wearing on my face, thank you.

OK, time to roll out.

Had a very full day yesterday, with a Diaconate meeting in the morning, hanging with Chris & Molly in the early afternoon, swinging by Brian & Carolyn's housewarming party, and being Linda's guests for dinner in the evening. Been thinking a lot over the past few weeks about just where I fit with other people, and yesterday served as an interesting cross section of my relationships. No sweeping conclusions yet, if there will ever be—honestly, I'm not expecting or trying to build a system. I just wonder where my place is, and insights along those lines, even if scattered and few, are more precious than gold to me just now.

Paying attention to who I am in relation to others has given me a shot of much-needed humility in a couple of places. Serving isn't always going to be understood or even acknowledged, and it's far less comfortable for me than "leading" (which isn't always really leading), which may be a big part of why I need to do it. And my desire to be understood well isn't necessarily going to be met by those I serve or serve alongside—I don't know why I keep looking to have it met there, because there's no reason to expect the two to always be coupled.

More and more, I'm convinced we need the pluralistic chaos of the church. Of course the Body must be under Christ, the head, seeking obedience to Him over our own agendas. And of course the church is intended to be orderly in its work and worship, subject to the leadership God has appointed. But under (always under) these truths, we are many members, different by God's intent and indwelt by His Holy Spirit. The New Testament so specifically highlights the importance of these qualities—it's a new thing He's doing. We're meant to bump up against each other, often, by design, for our sanctification, for God's purposes in the world, and ultimately for His glory.

With skin on, that means being with one another, not in a holy huddle or even some post-modern "intentional community," but simply showing up. Something in us seems to want our life together to be more complicated, but I think it may be as simple as 1) living our lives 2) together.

Beyond any of the above, yesterday's mini-tour of relationships, in all their varied states, gave me a lot of gratitude. God has been good to me.

Got to help an older couple from church reset their entertainment system today; they recently added a DVR cable box to the mix, which made the whole thing inaccessible to them. Some of their cabling was broken and some would benefit from an upgrade, so I'm ordering replacements and will hopefully finish the job next week. It's fun to spend time with new people and help in ways that are fun for me—not every way I'm called to serve is like that, so I'm grateful for the softball.

God's love is amazing (duh). I have trouble just getting over myself and my petty indignations, but God has it a lot tougher than I do:

God is a righteous judge,
    and a God who feels indignation every day.

—Psalm 7:11

Indignation every day! I feel that, but for crappy reasons most of the time, and it usually results in me being all the more crappy. But God rightly feels it, and yet He loves. Wow.

Beautiful day—taking in some fresh air with a beer on the patio. Too often, I don't stop or slow down enough to get perspective. Even my laziness is too wired and distracted. But now there's a nice breeze blowing, and even the clamor of everyone commuting home is somehow comforting.

(Lots of people running. Why do they do that?)

Feel like I've been acting as my own counselor this week, asking why things get me bent out of shape that seem like they could be taken in stride. A few insights here and there, but most valuable perhaps is the simple discipline of questioning myself. Culturally, we're pretty comfortable questioning everything/one else at all times (often to our detriment and theirs), but we don't call our own responses into question nearly enough. At least I haven't been, resulting in a backlog of wacky knee-jerk crap that immediately gets a Whiskey Tango Foxtrot response when I stop for a moment and consider what I'm thinking, feeling, and doing. Time to get a grip.

The dandelions and I have been at war again this spring. Managing myself is a lot like that. It's never quite finished, but it's worth doing (it's work God's called me to, after all), and there are consequences for just letting things run wild.

More opportunities to die to myself today than most days in recent memory. Not exactly batting 1.000 on that.

Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire;
    he breaks out against all sound judgment.

A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
    but only in expressing his opinion.

—Proverbs 18:1-2

Funny that these proverbs are right next to one another—each applies to my life lately.

Not that I think there's anything wrong with solitude, but it's very obvious that many times when I pull back from relationship with others and even from God, it's simply because I want what I want, regardless of what is wise or good or true. Layered on that (above or underneath? both, perhaps…) is a lack of trust in God's goodness toward me and/or His power to make it so. I want what I want because I'm afraid, and if I have to throw God and others aside to get it, I'm just desperate enough to do that.

Ironically, there's good theology that I co-opt to my own pursuits: I know God will never leave me nor forsake me, that Jesus' sacrifice is sufficient to cover my disobedience and waywardness. Funny how solidly I can believe that when it serves me, but how little weight I'm willing to actively put on His love for me. Abuse of anything (like good theology) doesn't negate proper use, but neither does the truth of God's steadfast love excuse my rebellious attitude. As a friend recently told me, "There are more books in the Bible than Hosea."

My irritation at living in a culture of constant and loud expression of opinion is rooted first in me. Of course I have no shortage of opinions—that's kind of a no-brainer truth that doesn't add understanding by acknowledgement (i.e., "duh!"). And of course I need to apply the proverb liberally and often to my own actions. But further, I need to die to the notion that I somehow have the right to live a life free of this foolishness (as if I could escape my own anyway). It's how things are—the proverb just gives me the freedom to acknowledge the noise (internal and external) as what it is. I don't, however, have license to indiscriminately attack or withdraw because of it, and when I do, I am rarely (if ever) pursuing anything but my own desire.

Glad to be out of Lent and in Eastertide. I need as many reminders of risen, resurrected life as I can get.