The Banzai Chronicles

Keep hoping to write more routinely, not just for its own sake but also for the rhythm and reflection it represents. Life as I want to live it and life as I actually do are still quite different, however. Reality looks a lot more like taking what I can get.

January is always wacky with year-end stuff at work, and the last week is always the wackiest. At least I've made headway, but sweet fancy Moses, it's been hectic this week. Also trying to help our Thailand Mission Team coordinate their finances, an endeavor which makes herding cats look easy. There are plenty of bright spots, including attending Deacon candidate training with the new candidates yesterday. Exciting to see glimpses of what God might do.

Realized this week that for some reason I've been thinking our rent is $200 a month more than it actually is. Good thing I haven't been the one writing those checks!

After work and worship this morning, we're celebrating our friend Paul's new job over a pint (or two) at Murphy's. Good times.

Reading Genesis 24 this morning, I'm struck by the nature of trusting God's faithfulness to His word in the context of community. God promised a Abraham to give a land to his offspring, and in his old age, after the death and burial of his wife in that very land, Abraham trusts God will be faithful to his promise. He hadn't always been so trusting—he and Sarah previously tried to make God's promise "happen" by having him sire a son by Sarah's servant Hagar (this can be filed under "things that end badly"). Yet God showed Himself faithful by giving Sarah, an old woman, a son, Isaac. And God had even tested Abraham's faith in His promise further by calling him to sacrifice Isaac, staying his hand at the eleventh hour and providing another sacrifice (not the last or ultimate time He does so). So Abraham, not perfect by any stretch, has been changed by God in his relationship to Him—a man who was used to making his own way was now putting all of his hope on God's faithfulness, rejecting the possibility of a plan B.

If we only saw the faith God built in Abraham through His relationship with him, that'd be a great story. But there's more: Abraham's servant, sent on a mission he may find dubious, also turns to God to make the seemingly impossible possible:

And he said, “O Lord, God of my master Abraham, please grant me success today and show steadfast love to my master Abraham. Behold, I am standing by the spring of water, and the daughters of the men of the city are coming out to draw water. Let the young woman to whom I shall say, ‘Please let down your jar that I may drink,’ and who shall say, ‘Drink, and I will water your camels’—let her be the one whom you have appointed for your servant Isaac. By this I shall know that you have shown steadfast love to my master.”

—Genesis 24:12-14

The marching orders he'd received included the "what" of God's promise and the "who" of the God that made the promise, but when it came to the "how" of the mission, he also turned to God. His knowledge of and trust in God wasn't just through his master Abraham; he called on Him himself. And he didn't pursue the mission resting only in his own wisdom and resources; he asked God to make it happen.

And the story continues: Rebekah shows the hospitality and grace the servant prayed would reveal her identity. Though God is fully sovereign, His people aren't reduced to automatons. Each relates to Him, showing their own personalities and characters in the unfolding story.

The servant knows to watch for God's answer, and responds when it is given. By watching, he witnesses God's faithfulness, and by being witnesses, he and Rebekah can share the story of God's faithfulness with her family. When God's people see Him work, we are often called to share it with others.

Abraham's servant doesn't presume that what he's witnessed will dictate the response of Rebekah's family, however. God's action doesn't override the dignity He's given them to choose, and their freedom to do so doesn't diminish His power or His faithfulness in the least. There's always risk in being a witness—you can give an account of what you've seen, but who knows how others might respond?

Rebekah's family chooses to acknowledge God's work and His will, which they celebrate. And yet—perhaps surprisingly in a story, but not unusually in our experience—when it comes down to letting go, there's still an attempt to negotiate the terms. It's dealt with quickly and quietly enough, especially relative to Old Testament disputes, and the resolution (perhaps surprisingly in an ancient cultural context) hinges on Rebekah's decision to go and become Isaac's bride. As may have been the case for Rebekah's family, sometimes our reservations in following God may be rooted in good intentions and love for others, and we can only let them go and follow Him when we trust that His intentions are better and His love is deeper than ours.

The story closes with Isaac and Rebekah meeting, hearing (again, in Rebekah's case) God's faithful action, and trusting His intention for them in giving themselves to one another. Clearly, this is culturally a very different model of marriage than ours (I tend to snicker when I hear the phrase "Biblical marriage," because people usually mean some cobbled-together, culturally current version, rather than the craziness we see in actual marriages in the Bible), but perhaps there's still something to learn about how to trust God's faithfulness in marriage through this story. They didn't "court," and their "romance" probably wouldn't sell well as a movie, but their marriage was first and foremost about being caught up in God's story and His faithfulness to His promise. That's a pretty solid foundation.

We started 2010 with a whirlwind trip to visit both our families (first in Alabama, then in Iowa), and I'm just now starting to feel the beginnings of a normal rhythm settling in. Don't think I'd have changed a thing—travelling in January is so much simpler and less expensive than taking the same trip in December, and it was the right time to spend that time with each of our families. That said, January is always a bit of a zoo with navigating year-end close and plenty of other work details, so the pacing of the first half of the month is really no surprise.

Thing is, it's not all about rhythms, or discipline, or rest. Those things matter, no doubt, and are worthy of attention and effort. But they matter in the context of a larger, deeper, truer story, one in which I'm called to trust God with my life. Not that I'm doing so perfectly, or even well many times. If making my life work and taking care of myself is solely up to me, however, I can already tell you it ends in failure (probably very quickly and spectacularly so).

I don't want to worship at the altar of lifestyle design, however appealing that may be. I've seen the results, and they're grotesque. Sometimes being faithful means running hard. Heck, sometimes running hard is absolutely a mistake, and yet I have a God who promises my failures don't have the last word. As the Pegleg Annie song says, "Balance is an awful thing to keep."

At that time Jesus declared, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

—Matthew 11:25-30

Jesus invites us not to a general, "take a break" rest, but to the deep rest which comes from having who He is revealed to us by our Father and from knowing that it is our Father's will that He be sovereign over all things. Not only do we rest in Him, but we also work in Him, taking on His burden with Him as our yokefellow and discovering how very much lighter it all becomes when we no longer shoulder the weight of the world. We learn from Him—He is our teacher and we are the pupils. And all of this is of a piece, a package deal rather than just a phrase to hang onto when we're exhausted.

Anyone who would truly rest in Jesus must be planted firmly in the knowledge that He is sovereign and good, or at the very least be struggling to run toward this truth rather than from it. Anyone who would rest in Him must also take on His work and His fellowship, walking in light of what He has done and joining Him in what He is doing, for no greater reason than the fact that He is there. Anyone who would rest in Him must learn from Him, submitting to His authority and wisdom, listening for His voice, being corrected and trained by the Master. And anyone who would rest in Him does so only by the gracious revelation of our Father, who opens our eyes to the glory of His Son.

Somewhere along the way this morning, the 43 bus turned into Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. My stomach was not a fan and is still recovering.

Is it too clichéd to say I need rest? I think that's what I need, anyway—I feel jumbled enough that I'm not even sure. Rest and salvation. I need to be saved, even though I'm not entirely sure from what. Just a weight, a busyness, and a scatteredness that doesn't let up. And I need to be saved from myself, because I don't rest when I can, try to give attention to too many things, and think I can do and be more than is realistic. Let there be no doubt: I am not enough.

Full day with worship and work, then some time at Murphy's with Gary, one of my RA staff from my University of Maryland days. Good to catch up. Crashed hard afterward, then took in Charlie Bartlett over leftover Aussie Pie.

Great sermon this morning—something I'd like to write more about, just not tonight. There's big stuff in who we are to be together as the church.

Been a bit under the weather since Wednesday—just a mild cold thus far, thankfully. Has me going a bit slower than usual, but since everything else is also going a bit slower than usual with the Christmas holiday, it's not so bad. barlow_girl was a trooper and went on a post-Christmas decoration shopping expedition, so we'll be equipped for a real tree next year (this year's tree occupies a tiny pot, and we should probably find a home for it soon).

Yesterday's brunch was fun and, oddly enough, I wound up coming home from the white elephant exchange with a gift from my Amazon wish list—an electric wine-bottle opener. Not the kind of thing I'd ever be likely to buy myself, since it's languished on the list for years, but it should be fun to play with for free, and if it breaks, no biggie. Robert & Kelly put out a great spread and were gracious, engaging hosts.

Tonight we're heading out with Jenna & Paul for dinner with Jenna's mom. Looking forward to it, a little moreso since I spent most of the afternoon asleep. Tomorrow is work and worship, so things aren't going to stay slow.

Our Christmas travel to visit family isn't until January, so we're enjoying a quiet Christmas in Seattle today. Our friends Robert & Kelly are hosting a Christmas brunch in a couple of hours, which promises to be fun. Otherwise, a simple day off together is plenty to look forward to in its own right.

Last night we celebrated Christmas Eve with Aussie pie (delicious!) and The Long Kiss Goodnight (also delicious!). Patrick Stewart's version of A Christmas Carol is ringing in the morning, and It's a Wonderful Life awaits for later in the day.

Been missing writing; life just feel that much more disordered when I don't. As far as I can imagine, just bucking up and doing it is the only solution, I think.

So there's some thing with Tiger Woods going on? I don't know what it is, and I love that. I couldn't identify Jon (John?) or Kate or any of the eight in a lineup. I had to look up who Glenn Beck was. I don't know which stars are dancing or who's dancing with them, which Americans I'm supposed to be idolizing, or whether any of us have talent. There's a Miss California who said one thing and did a bunch of other things, and I confess I know more about her, but she never becomes a big part of my day and I wasn't looking to her for political or moral advice anyway—she's Miss California, for Pete's sake.

That's not to declare everything I don't know to be silly. I tune into (at least) my share of the silliness with The Amazing Race, Survivor, and plenty of others. I'm just so glad I can choose whether to pay attention to this stuff. We only watch commercials if they catch our eye, and local evening news ads just give us things to make fun of with their fear mongering and ridiculous questions, which they promise to answer only in their timeslot (thanks for looking out for all of us, "journalists"!).

Likewise, if I want to know something, I usually can tune in and look it up. If Afghanistan is important to me, I can pay attention. If I want the latest on health care, I just look and listen. It's all there. I'm not sure how well journalism functions as the "fourth estate" of our society today—it seems mostly to serve up the content people want to consume, just like the rest of the popular media. But that's more of an observation than a critique.

I'm not uncomfortable with a culture where I choose what gets my attention and what doesn't—that's life, and I'm glad I have that freedom and responsibility. If I'm frustrated with how much attention something is getting, then it's probably getting way too much of mine. If I can't look away, then there's a problem—the Matrix has me. Time to wake up.

Getting back on the journalling horse is oddly daunting. I've had the window open to start an entry a few times recently, but no go until now. Not that there's anything to it, just a nebulous inertia made stronger by regular forays into Facebook or Twitter that scratch the itch a bit. Not that that's real reflection by any stretch—and not that this will be, either.

Noteworthy current or recent past events:

• barlow_girl is away on our church's first women's retreat, at Sahalie Ski Club. Weather being what it is, we're praying for a timely, safe trip back. I'm pretty much over temporary bachelorhood.
• Upgraded our home theater to a Blu-ray system, which has been just plain fun. The weirdest part hasn't been the system itself, but the fact that we bought speaker stands via Craigslist from a former Playgirl centerfold. This should (but won't) teach me to beware of unnecessary Googling.
• Had beers with Merlin Mann and other folks last week in an impromptu meetup he initiated. Funny, energetic guy, which is pretty much as expected. And he picked up the tab, which is always appreciated.
• This Wednesday is the annual Pre-Thanksgiving Stomach Stretching Feast (my sixth) at Buca di Beppo, followed by Thanksgiving dinner with friends at our home Thursday. It's so great to have more space to entertain and enjoy, and many guests at each event will be able to get to know new people.

Bussing it to church today (we're just having one service because of the retreat), so I'd better scoot.

Mostly keeping my head down and nose to the grindstone of late—we're in the throes of event season at work, which is exciting but takes lots of attention and effort. Pushed a few things back a couple of weeks because, while I could fit the meetings in to my schedule, there's no way I could really be present at anything beyond an operational level. The biggest of the events is this Sunday (our annual vision dinner), and though next week is full, they're all "objects in motion," so I'm hopeful that momentum can help.

Got lots of simple odds and ends done around the house today, which left me feeling settled enough to take in the last few moments of dusk on the Seattle skyline. The quiet is peaceful and centering. I'm spending so much of my days doing things (many self-imposed), and when I'm not, I'm strongly bent to let God have none of the rest of my time, often actively running from Him. Part of me believes He's the one who takes rather than the one who gives (and surely both are true, yet surely not as simply as my insecurities lead me to believe), so I hoard whatever of my time and energy I can claim for myself. It's childish and selfish, telling me so much about what I really believe and where I need to be transformed.

That all melts away with the sunset, not because I feel better, but because He is trustworthy. It's a gift to be able to see it, and I write it down because I'll forget again, all too soon. It's true regardless of my memory, but oh, how much better I can rest when I remember. The breeze rustles through the leaves just for me, a gentle shushing that reminds me of my place and my Father. My grasp of the truth is a tiny, tiny seed, but He can work with that.

Hard to believe it's only Wednesday. Working hard to get and stay up-to-speed, which seems like quite a challenge. The re-addition of communitygroup into our weekly routines contributes to the feeling, but honestly, if it weren't that, it'd be something else, so it might as well be something that matters, right?

The projects also get me: this week it's finalizing catering for our Celebrating Grace dinner on 11 October and finalizing the quarterly Sunday volunteer schedule for October-December. At least "finalizing" is in both of those descriptions—you can tell I'm hopeful. There's also some serious proofreading and formatting required for our Introduction to Grace Seattle materials (which starts on 16 October), support items to provide for our Women's Retreat in November, and meetings next week with the Diaconate and with the landlords for the church building we use on Sundays for which to prepare. I really like what I'm doing; it just helps to realize that the reason I feel busy is because I am.

Did a fair amount of settling in yesterday, spurred in part by the fact that we're hosting the other Community Group leaders for dinner this evening. Feels good to have a bit of art on the walls again, and barlow_girl has a great eye for where things should go.

Had to bail on an evening full of plans Friday because we were just too wiped out to make a go of it. Glad we can do that when we need to.

Thursday's communitygroup was a little tough—we had a visitor who behaved in some ways that weren't respectful to others, which wound up being fairly disruptive and uncomfortable. That's one of the risks of having "open" groups, and I'm glad we take it. There's tension between fostering a safe place and being welcoming to whomever may come, and I don't thing there's a singular right answer to navigating that. For my part, I think the possible disruption is one of the risks we take on Jesus, and we try to deal faithfully with whatever comes out of that risk. It doesn't make us doormats or hostages to others' behaviors, however, and we'll be sure some boundaries are expressed before our visitor is welcome to return. It'll also be good to talk about what happened with the rest of the group so people can express what they need to, so we can listen to one another, and so we can be clear on what some of our boundaries are and why we take the risks we do.

As with so many things, it's very tempting to try to manage and lock down everything about how the church relates to one another and the world. That doesn't line up well with church history as we know it from Scripture and onward, however, so we either need to conclude that our differences result from being in a different cultural moment, or we need to leave room to take more relational risks, recognizing that our security is in Christ alone. That doesn't mean being boundary-free or having shepherds who do nothing to protect their flocks—by no means. But we can't make following Jesus together completely "safe" by every individual's measure of safety. That's weak sauce, for sure.

There's a nice fog between me and the Seattle skyline this morning, the buildings poking out like the tops of icebergs. The rest of the sky is mostly clear and blue, and the sun is now high enough to make me squint. It's a good enough start.

Lots of projects at work, so my margin has been tighter than I like. My secret (if it can be called that) to being effective is staying in the future relative to everything else—I don't believe failure can be avoided, and trying to do so all the time is both stifling and crazymaking, but if I'm far enough out in front, there's enough time to recover that I can take better risks. In theory. In practice, I've been coming in way too close to the wire for my comfort. Thankfully, the buffer has increased a bit from earlier in the week. Still, it's tight and busy.

Our second week of communitygroup for fall is tonight. At coffee with Chris earlier this week, I noted that I really wanted to learn how we're following Jesus, individually and together. There's so much diversity of personality and lifestyle in our group, so it takes some effort from all of us to be together in that way, and there's no simple checklist on how to lead (it's more comfortable and easier to settle for being a discussion group or social club). Look at Jesus—that's all we've really got, and as a leader, I need to avoid the temptation to add to or subtract from that. And I need to be willing to do it myself before I can lead, as well as being willing to admit I don't have it down pat.

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.

—Hebrews 1:1-3

barlow_girl and I recently watched this TED talk on cymatics, the art of visualizing sound. It's just four and a half minutes, and at first I just watched with mild interest. But then it started to become clear: sound actually forms the shape of things. I think I've heard that before.

Since the sun is rising later, I'm getting more time on clear mornings to sit outside and write before being blinded by it. Would love to learn to use that time well, because I'm just better when I'm regularly taking the time to write.

Spent the evening at Paul & Jenna's yesterday. Kind of a tough choice, since we were also invited to an end-of-summer party with lots of church friends, but A) it's always fun to hang out with Paul & Jenna, and 2) hanging with church folks in larger groups often feels like work to me, especially on Saturday nights (with Sunday morning so soon on its way). It's easy for me to assign the latter feeling to the "grumpy old man" category, but when I really think about it, the picture becomes more clear:

• I'm an introvert, so bigger gatherings always take more from me.
• That kind of thing is also often filled with small talk, another thing that's not a favorite. I need to use as much small-talk energy as I can muster each Sunday morning (I often go over what other people are going to want to talk about—weather, sports, current events, etc.—before work starts, because I find most of it mind-numbingly boring, but it's what others want), so I don't need to be depleting it the night before.
• Sometimes there are games. Yeesh.
• Other than the small talk, what most church people know how to talk with me about is, not surprisingly, work. It's possible some of that would change if I spent more time with them, but a party isn't a good venue for that and has too broad of an audience than can realistically know me well anyway.
• I do like smaller gatherings—having dinner together, etc. When I thought of having dinner with nearly anyone I might chat with at a party, I realized I would probably enjoy that. This was really helpful, as that realization countered my internal accusation that I "just don't like people."

Part of being both limited and semi-public is that I'll need to say no more often than I can say yes, and I'm not abandoning my Christian call to sacrifice for others by passing on some things that just don't fit. Neither do I want it to be all about my "living authentically," because I've seen so many people go completely off the rails in pursuit of that pseudo-psychological goal that it makes me angry just to think about it. There's a difference between boundaries and narcissism, and as in all things, I have Someone to follow who won't lead me astray.

Look—brain scanning unborn babies!

Even though it's late-term, I wish this kind of science would, even for a moment, spur policymakers and the public at large to consider, even for a moment, the possibility that we've been doing something horribly, horribly wrong in allowing the termination of unborn lives as a legal option. They have minds! But science only matters when it supports what we want, and if that grotesque, destructive policy tells us anything, it's that we want what we want, no matter the cost. God, help us.

Unless you experience the unpleasant symptoms of being wrong, your brain will never revise its models. Before your neurons succeed, they must repeatedly fail. There are no shortcuts for this painstaking process.

—Jonah Lehrer, How We Decide

Work day was promptly derailed by immovable printing problems, an external drive with wrong permissions, and a couple of lesser frustrations. Not what I'd have picked, but it didn't bother too much once I knew there was no way out but through (and found workarounds that could bail me out if not) and that the process wasn't likely to be brief. There's something soothing about the inevitable—scrambling and stressing don't make a lick of difference in such circumstances, so they're much easier to abandon.

On the other side of stonewalling, I've had some conversations recently that resurrect my fear of leading in a way that hinders others rather than helping and empowering them. Most of us have had the value of "thinking outside the box" affirmed to mythic proportions, yet sometimes "the box" is well-considered and in place for good reason. Resetting and reminding others of boundaries isn't fun for anyone after a while, so I second guess myself when I have to do it. Just a good thing to have in mind; there's no one answer that always applies, and the responsibility for others' experiences doesn't lie solely with me.

Woke to a "we're taking a hiatus from church" email in my inbox. Hate that. Feels a bit like a gut punch every time.

Not that I have any real concern for our church's overall health—we're growing, not shrinking, and more people are connected to Community Groups and the like than ever before. And it's not my role to shepherd the congregation; God has called others to that duty. It's hard to articulate well what bothers me when people "take a break." Some of it is simply the feeling of being left and/or not being enough (which varies, of course, based on how close to someone I am); some of it is because I believe "breaks" from fellowship miss the mark of what we're called to. And as I've said before, seeing someone leave in order to be part of another congregation isn't nearly so troubling as the amorphous walk-aways—at least you're still acting as if you're part of the Body, even if I'll miss you.

One of the ways being part of the Church is hard for me is that I don't want to care whether you stay or go. "Do what you do." But I do care, and I hate that others can make me feel like crap by breaking fellowship. I should probably be thankful instead—not that people leave or "go on hiatus," but that I still care if they do.

I'm just tired of having sadness be such a regular part of my experience with others in the Church. I have trouble even trusting relationships anymore, because part of me sees others and says, "No matter how good of a game you may be talking right now, I don't know if or when you're going to flake out on me. And if that happens, you won't even give it or me a second thought."