I had the most delightful trip to the library today to pick up books on CD for my upcoming seminary scouting trip (yessss! I'm so excited!). I left behind a bunch that looked good, so I may start listening to them in daily life in the car if I can somehow square it with my unnatural love of NPR. I'm really excited to listen to The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, a selection of Christmas items from the Reduced Shakespeare Company, a couple of mysteries to keep it exciting, and one or two more.
I was so happy to have them that I popped one in right on the way home from the libes: Born Standing Up, Steve Martin's memoir. I'm on disc two now, which means it/I/we got over the hurdle of the all-important first disc switch. Martin is a pretty good and sometimes great writer on the sentence level, such that I may one day want to read it and copy down a phrase or two. I like the book so far for many reasons, partly because I've always been interested in humor as something to study. It seems so spontaneous, so undefinable, but I've heard many people say it's a science to be learned and practiced. Martin talks about falling asleep listening to records of comedians, playing them over and over to listen for their timing, vocal nuances, everything. He learned the banjo the same way, even slowing down the records to hear each note.
The idea of humor-as-science fascinates me because it's sort of heartening that something so seemingly effortless can be mastered with practice and time. When we see people who are great at something, there's no reason to be jealous in most cases because they probably spent their whole life perfecting it, to the exclusion of certain other joys. We're not all that different from each other. No one was born standing up, funny or otherwise. Yes, we have inclinations and talents, but those are nothing without effort. You might see someone's ability and wish it were yours, but just think--to be that good of a (musician, artist, mathematician, fill-in-the-blank), you would have had to sacrifice a lot of what you've done instead and, consequently, who you are now. You'd be a great fill-in-the-blank, sure, but there's no telling who you'd be as a result.
Let's all be thankful for who we are, what we're good at, what we're terrible at, and all the wonders of the world around us.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Devotion and Temptation
We learned in church today about temptation and how it is universal. Everyone, absolutely everyone, deals with temptation in some form.
This afternoon, I was reading about spiritual practices and considering the importance of regularity and repetition, carving out part of one's day and life to do whatever works: prayer, meditation, yoga, reading, the things that get us in tune and calmed down.
I've been intermittently following a plan on which Alton Brown lost fifty pounds. There are six things you have to eat every day, five at least three times a week, four to limit to once a week, and four to cut out entirely. The plan has worked well for me, especially when I follow it closely (imagine!).
So: Temptation is everywhere. Discipline, which I think of in this context as self-denial, is a good way to combat it in the short term, in essence saying, "I'm just not gonna." But devotion, which in this context to me means replacing the bad thing with one or more good things and focusing on that instead, is going to get you a lot further and be a lot more fun. The Alton Brown concept is that if you fill your menu, stomach, and mind with fruit, whole grains, nuts, leafy greens, carrots, and green tea, you won't have as much time and space to get distracted by the darling cupcakes, the crispy fries, the caramel, and all of their backstabbing friends. I believe this carries over to faith. If you focus on doing the right thing instead of assiduously avoiding the wrong thing, you will probably wake up one morning and realize you haven't been craving the vice quite so badly. And in the meantime, you have done something great for yourself, God, and the world.
This is the principle behind devotions, which I take to mean anything you do intentionally on a daily basis. You do it because you're devoted, not because you jump out of bed dying to do it each and every single day. I don't have any strong feelings either way about carrots. Sometimes, I get completely sick of them and even of the peanut butter I eat them with. But, for days or weeks at a time, I will eat a carrot a day, because I know it makes me that much less likely to binge on junk. Likewise, if you read a text that feeds your faith, or pray, or stretch, or do something else that's healthy and draws you toward God, those practices will occupy you for so many minutes, and during those minutes at the very least, you can't yield to the myriad temptations that face you.
This afternoon, I was reading about spiritual practices and considering the importance of regularity and repetition, carving out part of one's day and life to do whatever works: prayer, meditation, yoga, reading, the things that get us in tune and calmed down.
I've been intermittently following a plan on which Alton Brown lost fifty pounds. There are six things you have to eat every day, five at least three times a week, four to limit to once a week, and four to cut out entirely. The plan has worked well for me, especially when I follow it closely (imagine!).
So: Temptation is everywhere. Discipline, which I think of in this context as self-denial, is a good way to combat it in the short term, in essence saying, "I'm just not gonna." But devotion, which in this context to me means replacing the bad thing with one or more good things and focusing on that instead, is going to get you a lot further and be a lot more fun. The Alton Brown concept is that if you fill your menu, stomach, and mind with fruit, whole grains, nuts, leafy greens, carrots, and green tea, you won't have as much time and space to get distracted by the darling cupcakes, the crispy fries, the caramel, and all of their backstabbing friends. I believe this carries over to faith. If you focus on doing the right thing instead of assiduously avoiding the wrong thing, you will probably wake up one morning and realize you haven't been craving the vice quite so badly. And in the meantime, you have done something great for yourself, God, and the world.
This is the principle behind devotions, which I take to mean anything you do intentionally on a daily basis. You do it because you're devoted, not because you jump out of bed dying to do it each and every single day. I don't have any strong feelings either way about carrots. Sometimes, I get completely sick of them and even of the peanut butter I eat them with. But, for days or weeks at a time, I will eat a carrot a day, because I know it makes me that much less likely to binge on junk. Likewise, if you read a text that feeds your faith, or pray, or stretch, or do something else that's healthy and draws you toward God, those practices will occupy you for so many minutes, and during those minutes at the very least, you can't yield to the myriad temptations that face you.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
John Revisited
It took me until a couple months ago to realize what John the Baptist means when he quotes Isaiah talking about preparing the way of the Lord. Every mountain and hill shall be made low, he says, and every valley be raised up. Every crooked path shall be made straight. For years, I liked the image but didn't get why this needed to happen. "That's not very nice to the mountains and valleys," I thought, having been raised in an age and a home where we respect differences and diversity. What a boring world it would be if everything were flat and every line straight! When did homogeneity become the goal?
But this Advent, when we read that kind of thing a lot, it struck me that it's not about sameness. It's about ease of travel. We lower the mountains and raise the valleys in order to open up paths for God's presence and work. We straighten the paths to make his way clear and simple. We have to create a world, or at least a life, where God's movement is unhindered. I know my heart is full of jagged mountains, and sometimes it seems like they will never smooth out. We all have things that make it harder than necessary for God to move in us. Lent is a good time to identify those and seek clarity on how to move them out of the way and eventually eliminate them altogether.
But this Advent, when we read that kind of thing a lot, it struck me that it's not about sameness. It's about ease of travel. We lower the mountains and raise the valleys in order to open up paths for God's presence and work. We straighten the paths to make his way clear and simple. We have to create a world, or at least a life, where God's movement is unhindered. I know my heart is full of jagged mountains, and sometimes it seems like they will never smooth out. We all have things that make it harder than necessary for God to move in us. Lent is a good time to identify those and seek clarity on how to move them out of the way and eventually eliminate them altogether.
Friday, March 11, 2011
J the B
My second-favorite Bible character of all time is John the Baptist. (Third: David. First: Take a guess!) I picture him with wild hair and dirty fingernails, looking completely out of place anywhere but the desert. His appeal is the same as that of Into the Wild or My Side of the Mountain, which I'm currently re-reading: the windy, rainy, sweltering, harsh outdoors brought to bear on one person and bringing him to some precipice, bringing out the truth in him.
But more than just being a mountain man, John the B. is my favorite because he's so self-effacing. His whole life and existence are about glorifying God, announcing Jesus' coming, and he's okay with that. He never (on the record, at least) complains about playing second fiddle or wishes for more power. He has the right perspective. Even non-Christians, I think, can learn from his de-emphasis of self, his intense sense of focus and purpose. That is what Lent's about when done right: let's trim something that doesn't lead us closer to Him. Let's move ourselves an inch closer to the back seat and away from the controls. Let's bow our heads even though our necks are stiff from pride. Good thing we have forty days to practice.
But more than just being a mountain man, John the B. is my favorite because he's so self-effacing. His whole life and existence are about glorifying God, announcing Jesus' coming, and he's okay with that. He never (on the record, at least) complains about playing second fiddle or wishes for more power. He has the right perspective. Even non-Christians, I think, can learn from his de-emphasis of self, his intense sense of focus and purpose. That is what Lent's about when done right: let's trim something that doesn't lead us closer to Him. Let's move ourselves an inch closer to the back seat and away from the controls. Let's bow our heads even though our necks are stiff from pride. Good thing we have forty days to practice.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Stir Crazy
It turns out if I'm used to running or biking or at least going somewhere for work each day, and then I have one day with none of those because it's intermittently rainy and there's no work assignment, it gets pretty bad around 4:30, especially if I also expected to hear back from another seminary and didn't. I'm about to go to the grocery store (after 5 now)and almost bursting with the excitement of leaving the house. I did go out to get the mail, but apparently that wasn't enough.
Just wanted to get that out before I settled down to something lent-y.
So. The main thing Christians need to remember about Easter, and thus about Lent, is that it's the most important thing in our religion. Christmas has become a bigger holiday in many ways, but it celebrates Jesus' birthday, and we all have one of those. Easter celebrates his resurrection, which is at the heart of everything Christians are supposed to believe. And it was scary and powerful and dark, nothing to do with pastel colors and bunnies. At Easter we celebrate, and during Lent we anticipate, the emptiness of the tomb, the gaping hole where his body should have been, the power of his absence. The question marks he left in his wake. His return and all that it means for the world and for us. We must make sure we focus on what we are really honoring, not the trappings that have come in since. Let's all take these days to honor the stinging power of God's love, the depressing Friday when for a moment he left, and the sharp blade of mercy that tore the curtain in two.
Just wanted to get that out before I settled down to something lent-y.
So. The main thing Christians need to remember about Easter, and thus about Lent, is that it's the most important thing in our religion. Christmas has become a bigger holiday in many ways, but it celebrates Jesus' birthday, and we all have one of those. Easter celebrates his resurrection, which is at the heart of everything Christians are supposed to believe. And it was scary and powerful and dark, nothing to do with pastel colors and bunnies. At Easter we celebrate, and during Lent we anticipate, the emptiness of the tomb, the gaping hole where his body should have been, the power of his absence. The question marks he left in his wake. His return and all that it means for the world and for us. We must make sure we focus on what we are really honoring, not the trappings that have come in since. Let's all take these days to honor the stinging power of God's love, the depressing Friday when for a moment he left, and the sharp blade of mercy that tore the curtain in two.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
March, Thus Far
I've gotten into Princeton Theological Seminary, which I must say is a pretty big deal. I'm visiting next Friday and then hitting Boston University, Union Theological Seminary in New York, and Union Theological Seminary in Richmond at the beginning of the next week. The cool part is that I can't visit schools on a weekend because I need to see classes, so on Saturday and Sunday I have 48 hours to kill in the New York/Boston/Jersey/wherever I want to go area! Kevin told me to go to Spider-Man because it has so many problems that it's cheap. Who knows what I'll end up doing? It might be nice to sit in a hotel room and read. Let me know if you have any ideas for fun, cheap/free things around there.
It's remarkable how much I am attached to this "new" future. I put "new" in quotes because it's been floating around in my head and heart for so long but only now becoming real. When I was in grad school, and before, I wasn't thinking much about my future except to be anxious about it. Now, I'm almost more excited about whatever service and ministry I'll engage in after seminary than I am about being in school! That's a first, let me tell you, and part of why it's the right step.
That attachment to the future, though, sure does dilute certain elements of the present, namely my job. I feel pretty checked-out about work much of the time. But luckily, the rest of life is burstingly vivid! Wilmington is so dear, I'm living it up with my friends, and I've begun working out first thing in the morning, which is going surprisingly well for me. When I think about leaving here, I block it out except to dream about the huge going-away party I'm going to have. It's going to be an all-day affair.
Aha! I just thought of what I'm doing for lent! BLOGGING! I hadn't thought of anything but giving blood, which is quite a big thing for me but only a one-time deal. Now, I am happy with the decision to blog daily. Hold me accountable, will you? Uh, maybe I can get some kind of waiver for when I'm on my seminary scouting trip. I've considered taking my computer because some of the housing has internet access. We shall see.
It's remarkable how much I am attached to this "new" future. I put "new" in quotes because it's been floating around in my head and heart for so long but only now becoming real. When I was in grad school, and before, I wasn't thinking much about my future except to be anxious about it. Now, I'm almost more excited about whatever service and ministry I'll engage in after seminary than I am about being in school! That's a first, let me tell you, and part of why it's the right step.
That attachment to the future, though, sure does dilute certain elements of the present, namely my job. I feel pretty checked-out about work much of the time. But luckily, the rest of life is burstingly vivid! Wilmington is so dear, I'm living it up with my friends, and I've begun working out first thing in the morning, which is going surprisingly well for me. When I think about leaving here, I block it out except to dream about the huge going-away party I'm going to have. It's going to be an all-day affair.
Aha! I just thought of what I'm doing for lent! BLOGGING! I hadn't thought of anything but giving blood, which is quite a big thing for me but only a one-time deal. Now, I am happy with the decision to blog daily. Hold me accountable, will you? Uh, maybe I can get some kind of waiver for when I'm on my seminary scouting trip. I've considered taking my computer because some of the housing has internet access. We shall see.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Year in Review
I liked what Erin did by looking back at 2010 on her blog, so I am going to do that too.
In January, I rang in the new year with a great party, attended mostly by my Sunday School class. I had another party a week later, for everyone from school who wasn't in town.
In February, I went to Charleston with friends for less than 48 hours.
In March, I had my thesis reading and then left for nine days of writing in a cabin for Spring Break. Then I turned my thesis in.
In April, I went to Denver for AWP and was swept up in bubbling writer-love.
In May, I graduated. Mom and Dad came, and we ate at Sweet 'N' Savory. Later, Stuart googlechatted me to say he was at Ocean Isle and I should come visit. I left a couple hours later and stayed for a few days, drinking coffee out of a Sid Luck cup, reading, swimming in the ocean, sitting on his dock, looking for jobs side by side on our respective computers. We watched Sister Act on DVD one night, and the next night, Sister Act 2 was on TV. We did a puzzle of hot-air balloons.
In June, Bill retired (our senior pastor) and Randy came. We love them both a lot. I got a job as a newspaper reporter and photographer, which is mostly fun and educational.
In August, I went to Seagrove for the second annual Seagrove Potters for Peace. I got two mugs, a plate, and a necklace that I wore almost every day for several months. I went to homecoming at my church in Henderson and got a new phone.
In October, I went with Lindsey and Lyndsay to spend a couple nights in Lindsey's family's cabin and hike in Hanging Rock State Park. I watched Exit Through the Gift Shop, which may be the best movie I saw all year. Unless Away We Go was this year, which I don't think it was.
In November, I went to Asheville to see John's percussion ensemble perform. I went to Pilgrimage with the youth and had a stranger tell me I'm called to ministry. I hosted a party to honor James Thurber's birthday a month early and baked a cake from his mom's recipe. I went to the third annual Celebration of Seagrove Potters and had dinner with Philip and Sims, whom I hadn't seen in probably years.
Somewhere in there, Jonah and Jack were born, a few months apart. Lindsey got engaged just after Christmas. Michelle was named News Director at WHQR. Lyndsay moved to Denver. Mike and Katie moved to the Charlotte area. I became better friends with Anna, Rachel, and Allison by watching the Thursday night shows with them. I learned to play Telephone Pictionary. I fell hard for NPR. I got to where I could run all the way around the Loop at Wrightsville Beach, stopped running for too long, and now I'm almost back there. Our department's new publishing imprint used my handwriting in its logo. I started shopping strategically, first by paying attention to the sales at Harris Teeter, then by combining them with coupons. Just today, I got 80-something dollars worth of groceries for $30.01. My small group stopped meeting formally, and there was no rejoicing, but I did survive it. I met a guy on eHarmony but had to file him under "fun while it lasted" after only a couple months. I finished the last half of the Novel Class and the last semester of grad school. Beginning in the summer, much to my surprise, I began my third and most serious round of thinking about seminary, which culminated (thus far) in last night's creation of a master list of what each one needs for the application. That would be the biggest outward and measurable thing of 2010, that decision to take a deep breath and plunge into a commitment that big. A pretty big deal inwardly as well.
So there you have it. 2010 at a glance. It was a doozy. More tears, I think, and certainly for more reasons, than any other year of my adult life. But I don't look back and see the tears. I see unprecedented changes at an unprecedented rate, and more love than I know what to do with, and wide-eyed learning and curiosity and hope. I see a farmer putting his hands into very rich soil, preparing it for breathtaking growth.
In January, I rang in the new year with a great party, attended mostly by my Sunday School class. I had another party a week later, for everyone from school who wasn't in town.
In February, I went to Charleston with friends for less than 48 hours.
In March, I had my thesis reading and then left for nine days of writing in a cabin for Spring Break. Then I turned my thesis in.
In April, I went to Denver for AWP and was swept up in bubbling writer-love.
In May, I graduated. Mom and Dad came, and we ate at Sweet 'N' Savory. Later, Stuart googlechatted me to say he was at Ocean Isle and I should come visit. I left a couple hours later and stayed for a few days, drinking coffee out of a Sid Luck cup, reading, swimming in the ocean, sitting on his dock, looking for jobs side by side on our respective computers. We watched Sister Act on DVD one night, and the next night, Sister Act 2 was on TV. We did a puzzle of hot-air balloons.
In June, Bill retired (our senior pastor) and Randy came. We love them both a lot. I got a job as a newspaper reporter and photographer, which is mostly fun and educational.
In August, I went to Seagrove for the second annual Seagrove Potters for Peace. I got two mugs, a plate, and a necklace that I wore almost every day for several months. I went to homecoming at my church in Henderson and got a new phone.
In October, I went with Lindsey and Lyndsay to spend a couple nights in Lindsey's family's cabin and hike in Hanging Rock State Park. I watched Exit Through the Gift Shop, which may be the best movie I saw all year. Unless Away We Go was this year, which I don't think it was.
In November, I went to Asheville to see John's percussion ensemble perform. I went to Pilgrimage with the youth and had a stranger tell me I'm called to ministry. I hosted a party to honor James Thurber's birthday a month early and baked a cake from his mom's recipe. I went to the third annual Celebration of Seagrove Potters and had dinner with Philip and Sims, whom I hadn't seen in probably years.
Somewhere in there, Jonah and Jack were born, a few months apart. Lindsey got engaged just after Christmas. Michelle was named News Director at WHQR. Lyndsay moved to Denver. Mike and Katie moved to the Charlotte area. I became better friends with Anna, Rachel, and Allison by watching the Thursday night shows with them. I learned to play Telephone Pictionary. I fell hard for NPR. I got to where I could run all the way around the Loop at Wrightsville Beach, stopped running for too long, and now I'm almost back there. Our department's new publishing imprint used my handwriting in its logo. I started shopping strategically, first by paying attention to the sales at Harris Teeter, then by combining them with coupons. Just today, I got 80-something dollars worth of groceries for $30.01. My small group stopped meeting formally, and there was no rejoicing, but I did survive it. I met a guy on eHarmony but had to file him under "fun while it lasted" after only a couple months. I finished the last half of the Novel Class and the last semester of grad school. Beginning in the summer, much to my surprise, I began my third and most serious round of thinking about seminary, which culminated (thus far) in last night's creation of a master list of what each one needs for the application. That would be the biggest outward and measurable thing of 2010, that decision to take a deep breath and plunge into a commitment that big. A pretty big deal inwardly as well.
So there you have it. 2010 at a glance. It was a doozy. More tears, I think, and certainly for more reasons, than any other year of my adult life. But I don't look back and see the tears. I see unprecedented changes at an unprecedented rate, and more love than I know what to do with, and wide-eyed learning and curiosity and hope. I see a farmer putting his hands into very rich soil, preparing it for breathtaking growth.
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