Return to Zero

The Lazarus Life

2012-02-10T02:40:00.000-08:00

I am always on the look-out for a book recommendation, especially from folks whose tastes and preferences run parallel to my own. I received a suggestion from my friend Brian at waystationone to check out the book The Lazarus Life by pastor Stephen Smith. The book is subtitled, "Spiritual Transformation for Ordinary People". The framework of the book is based on the story of Lazarus from the New Testament gospel of John the apostle. This story is used to help us to first envision transformation and then to show how we can take ownership of this transformation in a personal way.

Of course, the story of Lazarus is a miraculous example of transformation. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were three good friends of Jesus. While Jesus was away, Lazarus became deathly ill. Mary and Martha sent word to Jesus that He was needed quickly, yet Jesus purposefully stayed where he was. When He finally returned to Mary and Martha, Lazarus had been dead and in his tomb for several days. Lazarus was transformed in the ultimate manner when Jesus raised him up from the dead. This event served to bring many new believers to follow Jesus. However, it was also the final straw that ultimately lead the Jewish leaders to put into place a final plan to kill Jesus, which was exactly what happened just a few days later.

However, this book focuses on personal transformation. From living in the muck and mire of spiritual death, our stinking, rotting bodies wrapped in graveclothes, to emerging from the tomb with our focus on Jesus, ready and a bit more able to start shedding our graveclothes. Of course, we need to experience God's love if we are to be transformed by it. True transformation in our lives is not something quick, but takes a lifetime. It does not happen smoothly and monotonically. It proceeds in fits and starts, steps, stages, and seasons. Rarely graceful or easy. More likely awkward and uncomfortable. It is a journey in which the Christ in us gains more and more space. A journey in which He is increasing and we are decreasing. A good, comforting book that was most enjoyable.

Creep Me Out

2012-02-09T02:52:00.000-08:00

Everyone has their own mental list of pet aversions. You know, things that for some reason just creep you out beyond measure. Most often they can't be fully justified or even explained in a rational manner. I am no different. Over the past few weeks, I have been searching the folds and spans of my mind to find out what lurks in my cranial shadows that would classify in this category. After a very short while I had a list that numbered in the tens of thousands. However, if I put forth such a list, nobody would read it. So, I felt that I would just select my top 10 (or is that bottom 10?), in no particular order.

When someone uses the stall next to me when I am in the men's room.
Cockroaches - whether real, imagined, or in picture form.
Flagrant facial warts and moles.
Watching most people eat.
Men with unnaturally long fingernails.
Severely overweight women who wear tube tops.
Pretty much any man (even Europeans) who wears a Speedo-type bathing suit.
The thought of eating non-standard meats (anything not cow, pig, chicken, turkey, or beef).
Older folks who dress in trendy clothes meant for teenagers.
Folks who wear really bad toupees that are dirty and greasy beyond measure.

So, what would you add or subtract from this list?

Forward Progress

2012-02-08T02:35:00.000-08:00

Three times each week I spend 45 minutes exercising on my treadmill. This activity takes every ounce of energy that I possess. It sucks the vigor out of every sinew and muscle in my body and leaves me mentally drained. Yet at the end of my time, I have not moved an inch. Some might believe that since I have made no forward progress that I have unquestionably just wasted my time on a misguided venture.

Certainly we all must recognize that, at times, there is a fine line between dedication and insanity. Perseverance and tenacity vs. stubbornness and idiocy. Yet I believe that the decision whether to press on or step off in anything that we undertake, whether to continue with the effort or to recognize that we are fooling ourselves, depends on our ultimate goal.

I spend time on my treadmill to exercise my heart and body and mind. My goal is not to move from point A to point B but to elevate my heart rate for an extended period and to move my major muscle groups to keep my body fit and limber. The same sort of self-evaluation is essential in any endeavor.

I write a blog for which I post five days a week. I don't have too many readers, thus a very small audience. But I write because I can take my mind to wonderful places of healing and love and fantasy that I otherwise wouldn't visit. I can share my love of reading. I can keep in touch with a few folks who would otherwise slip away or who I would not have met. Who knows, maybe someone out there might connect with something that I have written that might give them perspective or heal them or start their day with a smile. I don't write to gain countless followers or to boost my ego.

You see, in anything that you undertake, success depends on your goals. It is from that recognition that you must decide if the effort is worth it.

Projected Life

2012-02-07T02:31:00.000-08:00

This is a post that I force myself to write each year. However, it is not one that I look forward to in the least. Truth be told, I wish that I never had to give this topic the least iota of thought. Yet, that is not my fate. I have a monster to face, one that I have been battling with for nearly 16 years. Sometimes I hold my own. Other times I nearly haven't made it. This is not something that can be put off or ignored. It is part and parcel of the intricate dance of life and death.

Here are some ugly terms that I know all too personally, transitional cell carcinoma ... high-grade invasive ... metastatic ... malignant ... chemotherapy ... onchology. Sometimes these words have threatened to wash over me in a downpour that strips me of everything that I hold dear. Every truth. Every purpose. Sanity and reason and experience hidden behind roiling clouds of doubt, anxiety, and fear.

And yet ...

Sometimes the hard facts of probabilities and projected life expectancies can come straight at me and miss their mark entirely. Sometimes I can be fully at ease in accepting any outcome in strength. Today I will face one of two roads. Down one path, lies assurance and peace of mind for a year or so. Down the other, there lies an entirely different reality. A reality of appointments and procedures, discomfort, weakness, and the constant threat of those heartless probabilities. I have traveled both roads enough to know the terrain. And yet, I am fully prepared to go either way and to do what I have to, for I do not travel alone.

Be strong in the Lord, and in his mighty power. (Ephesians 6:10)

Tinfoil Hat

2012-02-06T02:37:00.000-08:00

I wear a tinfoil hat for protection from the unwelcome intrusion of your mind probes. Trespassing beneath my projected image is strictly forbidden. What I paint on the surface is all that I will allow for your consumption. You may get a few sentences but you will not gain access to the full book. I control my outside skin very carefully so that what you ultimately see is a carefully managed facade. You see a confident man with an exciting career. You catch glimpses of me that indicate I have a good sense of humor, that I am a decent friend and father, that I am a good Christian, and that I have everything pretty much figured out. Excellent, that is what I had intended.

Take off this tinfoil hat and you might come to see a truer picture unfold of a man who struggles with low self-esteem, who regularly battles with lust, and who at times is so overburdened with regrets that he can scarcely function. Someone who too often feels devoid of value, who struggles with loneliness, depression, agoraphobia, autism, and lack of faith ... Good thing I wear this hat, for I can deftly manage who folks see when they look my way.

ARS

2012-02-03T02:29:00.000-08:00

I got into a yelling argument during a phone call the other day and I am still licking my wounds. What starting off as a conversation with a pleasant sounding female on the other end of the line, ended with me spewing and venting words that would have made Andrew Dice Clay blush. I have not been so upset or so overcome with rage in quite some time. I thought it would be appropriate to gain some measure of closure by writing about my experience here. For with confession, comes release, and ultimately peace. Let me tell my tale.

Over the past few weeks I received two separate payment coupon booklets from my mortgage company. One was meant to supplant the other, but I got them mixed up and thought I would call and speak to an account representative to clarify which booklet was the correct one. However, shortly after I dialed the toll-free phone number, I was greeted by what the folks in the business of distancing big companies from their customer base refer to as an ARS, which stands for "Automated Response System". Here a computer generated voice that is meant to simulate an actual human being, frustrates the heck out of anyone who tries to get their questions answered. They do this by rambling on and on about crap you couldn't give a flying frack about and instead of allowing you to push a button to enter a menu, want you to have some sort of deep and meaningful "personal" conversation with it. The whole notion the ARS is just so dehumanizing and frustrating.

Well after five minutes of trying to find a way to get through to an actual human, with my perky computer operator voicing time and again, "I did not understand your response, please try again.", I lost it and started screaming into the phone. There was a pause, and the computer said, "You must remain calm if you want service." ... It said what? I began chewing on the phone cord and threatening the computer's hard drive. For the record, it then said that I should, "Try my response again". I was clearly bested. I hung up the phone and crawled under my desk for the rest of the afternoon.

Today We Are Rich

2012-02-02T02:28:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading the book Today We Are Rich by Tim Sanders. The subtitle of the book, "Harnessing the Power of Total Confidence" clues you in immediately to the fact that this book falls into the "self help" category. I learned about this book from fellow blogger Ricky Anderson. I have come to believe that with essentially all self-help books, there is nothing new under the sun. Every suggestion, every trick, every recipe these authors put forward has been suggested, tried, or recited countless times in enumerable books. Self-help books are best approached when you are in need of a fresh perspective and some encouragement. They find their marks only if the reader is receptive. For me, while I do not lack for confidence in my professional life, my personal life is a whole different realm. So, I approached this book with an open mindset and wanted to give it a chance.

The "method" that Sanders espouses to gain confidence in oneself moves through the following principles:

Keep your attitude positive by focusing on positive input whether that is through what you read or who you interact with. This helps with reducing your negative tendencies.
Use positive words when you speak to yourself and others.
Develop a sense of gratitude towards things and people that have come your way in life. Do not take what you have for granted.
Learn how to give - it is a soothing balm for what ails you.
Develop appropriate confidence in yourself and others.
Be a person of integrity.

The roadmap developed in this book was based on a series of steps that can be incorporated into your life as a group or one after the other, adding in new ones as the old ones have taken root. It is about reprogramming your mind and your point of view. It is about embracing the positive and moving away from the negative.

Again, nothing that Sanders says is new or innovative or all that clever, but this book was a reasonable effort based on some common sense ideas that I ultimately felt was a worthwhile read for me.

False Hustle

2012-02-01T02:23:00.000-08:00

In the late 1970s/early 1980s I used to watch the Boston Celtics on good old WBZ-TV out of Boston. The color commentator for those telecasts was NBA Hall-of-Famer Bob Cousy. One of the things that used to frustrate him was when the Boston players would display what he termed "false hustle". Most folks who heard that expression probably had no idea what he was griping about, but I understood. In my mind false hustle is when people give energy to a situation to address another's urging or command but not to address one's true goal or calling. Cousy flared up whenever he saw that players would put on a show of increasing their energy at the urgings of their coach. However, this show lacked determined focus toward the defensive and offensive schemes the players had been drilled in.

I thought of this last Sunday when a "greeter" at my church approached me like he had downed a case of Red Bull or as if he were a morbidly obese man and I was the last piece of pie in the case. A bit later I went into Walmart and the "greeter" at the entranceway came after me with such boldness that I had to take a defensive stand. I think that both of these folks, even if their intentions were sincere, were aptly demonstrating false hustle. The energy expended was all based on the promptings and instructions from those in charge over them. For me, a gentle hand is appreciated and noticed much more than a full-court press. A greeter should always be sensitive to their guests to make them feel most welcome. That is their ultimate goal.

Blond Whisper

2012-01-31T02:34:00.000-08:00

The other day I talked with a long-time colleague of mine at work. I guess that I have known him for nearly 20 years now. There were several stretches where we worked quite closely together on a day-by-day basis. However, our most recent interaction had a lasting impact on me. It left me kind of stupefied and uneasy.

The imprint of this man that is burned into my mind is one who always used to be at the center of the action. Involved, curious, bright, and active. Shoot from the hip and then slay the room with a timely joke and a boisterous laugh. He was once a pretty close friend and mentor. I remember many times where I stopped by his office just to shoot the breeze or to ease some built-up frustration. We had a professional falling out about five years ago and I don't see him all that much any more.

In our brief chat the other day, I noticed that he had changed noticeably in appearance and mien. It was such a stark difference from my internal image of him that it really threw me. His once thick and flowing blond shag of hair was more white than gray. His face and neck were covered in deep creases and wrinkles. It was like a wave of old age had just washed over him from stem to stern in just the briefest of times. Even beyond his looks, his personality was nearly unrecognizable. No laughter. No jokes. No broad smile. No more leading the band in revelry, more like playing out the string. I think that I was so deeply affected as I kind of saw myself in him, just projected onto a screen from the future and I realized that it is not so far off.

Help

2012-01-30T02:49:00.000-08:00

I have a networked printer in my office at work. That means that anybody on the computer network can, in principle, submit something to this printer and it will dutifully hum and whir for a few moments before rolling out the freshly inked paper to its output tray. However, this printer is my own personal property and nobody knows that it exists. Thus it never should respond to the commands of anyone but me. In all of its years of existence, it has only gone about its work for me.

The other morning I was hard at work in my office. Toiling away well before the sun even thought about poking its head about the horizon. Apart from one or two service vehicles, mine was the only car in the parking lot. Suddenly my printer woke itself from its sleep mode, hummed to life, and started to process a print job. Curious, as I had not submitted anything to its queue. A single page turned out and I went over and picked up the sheet. In the upper left corner of the page, one word appeared, all in capital letters, HELP.

A plaintive cry for assistance from beyond? A lonely morning Beatles fan? I could not say. I thought it best to quickly reach over and toggle the power switch. One can never be too careful with the possibilities that abound when facing possible otherworldly fans of 1960s music.

The Endless Knot

2012-01-27T02:21:00.000-08:00

The final book in the Song of Albion trilogy by Stephen Lawhead is The Endless Knot. This conclusion to the epic tale picks up where The Silver Hand left off. American student Lewis Gillies, now Llew, high king of Albion, has seemingly finished what he knew had to be done. He began then to prepare himself to return to his own world and his own time. Yet Albion still called to him so deeply that he just could not bring himself to leave. Finally, peace in the land, joy in the people, and a wonderful new bride, Goewyn. Ultimately we learn that the calling to stay was not just selfish greed on Tlew's part. Albion was in grave danger, and only the high king could vanquish the impending enemy.

Just as a blessed peace seemed to flow over the land, Llew's new wife is abducted by an unknown enemy. He vows to find her even to the ends of the world, and to give his life if he must. Llew and his faithful friend and bard Tegid, develop a sense of what has happened to her and journey to a far-off land across the oceans from Albion. This land is steeped in lifelessness and cursed by every foul Celtic demon ever conjured up. Slowly Llew and his faithful brothers-in-arms make their way across the land to the seat of the enemy's power. Yet when the forces of evil believe that they can savor their wicked gains and can throw back their heads in smug laughter, their destruction is imminent. The ending left me in tears, but it ended as it had to end. A price had to be paid for the sin and for the corruption, a dear price to save both worlds and restore the required balance.

Reading the Song of Albion trilogy was just a wonderful adventure for me and I am grateful to the input from fellow blogger Ricky Anderson for turning me onto Stephen Lawhead. I have more of Lawhead works in my reading queue already.

Playlist

2012-01-26T02:41:00.000-08:00

I have admitted on more than one occasion that I kind of have the musical tastes of a 14 year old girl. ... Wow, when I type these words and look at them on the monitor, they really do just kind of sit there. I would bet that even now, as you read them, you are laughing and pointing at me. Somehow you think yourself more sophisticated than me, you fancy yourself more manly and verile, even if you are actually a woman. Then you continue to laugh all the more because I just used the word "fancy". Heck, I don't blame you. While you bang your head to bands such as Rancid Maggots, Festering Chest Wound, and Eating Shrapnel, I sing along to Backstreet Boys. But the other day after I finished exercising, I looked at the musical playlist that I had selected to accompany me and could admit, perhaps for the first time ever, that I was not ashamed or embarrassed with the list of songs that I had just listened to.

Ship of Fools - Robert Plant
Invincible - Pat Benatar
Lost! - Coldplay
One Light Burning - Richie Sambora
Magnificent - U2
Changes - Yes
No Smoke Without a Fire - Bad Company
Easy Lover - Philip Bailey & Phil Collins
Walking in the Underground - Pat Benatar
Celebrate Youth - Rick Springfield

Now of course none of these songs have the insouciant charm of anything in the catalog of Rancid Maggots, but few artists can make this claim anyway. So, am I giving myself too much credit here?

Trick of Time

2012-01-25T03:11:00.000-08:00

Long ago I had a good friend that I worked with for about four or five years. We hung out after work and enjoyed ourselves with a few laughs, a few beers, and a few games of darts or pool on many an occasion. At the time we were both in graduate school. We eventually finished our work and moved on to new positions, ready and eager to face the next stages of our lives. From time to time we crossed paths at various conferences and gatherings and always made time to grab a lunch or dinner together to catch up. Then a stretch developed where I did not see him for quite a few years.

One day at work, I was coming into my building just as a small group of visitors was leaving. My old friend was part of this group. As I was holding the door we made eye contact as he said thanks, yet no recognition dawned in his eyes. He did not register who I was. As he was involved in shop talk, I did not chase him down to say hello. I figured that, perhaps, he would stop by my office when he got a chance or that I might encounter him again in the hallway. But I did not see him again during his visit.

Another several years have gone by now since that incident and I have not seen my old friend in the interim. However, just a few days ago, essentially the same scenario played itself out again. I was entering into a building at work and passed my old friend. Yet when he showed no signs of recognition again, I let the moment go. I could tell that I was not being snubbed or ignored. I guess it was just a trick of time.

The Silver Hand

2012-01-24T03:06:00.000-08:00

The second book in the Song of Albion trilogy by Stephen Lawhead is The Silver Hand. At the end of the first book, The Paradise War, the noble and revered king of the ancient Celtic land of Prydain was murdered just as his people were celebrating a great victory over the forces of darkness. Our two modern-day students, Lewis Gillies and Simon Rawnson, have followed very different paths after finding their way through the cairn that linked the two worlds together. Lewis has followed the path of righteousness and light, while Simon has embraced treachery and darkness. In a sense, this battle of the forces of good and evil and the divide between the two worlds are the main threads that bind this wonderful tale together.

Prince Meldron, who has fallen under the spell of Simon as his main advisor, has slowly and methodically wrested power and sovereignty that did not belong to him. He has raped the land and the people in his quest to take over all of Albion. The shine of the once beautiful jewel of the Otherworld has been sullied beyond measure by this greedy, power-hungry dog and his blood-thirsty, vile war band.

Lewis was named king of Prydain by the chief bard Tegid just after the king was murdered. However, Celtic tradition mandates that the king must be without defect to rule the land. In an attempt to take what is not his, Prince Meldron cuts off Lewis's hand. He also takes Tegid's eyesight with a flash of his sword. He then sets Lewis and Tegid adrift on the open seas in a small boat. Yet our heroes somehow survive and begin to unite the decimated peoples of the land. Slowly they build up their company and their holdings, all in accord with an ancient prophesy. The story ends with Meldron's deserved destruction. Simon's demise also seems complete. Yet the story is not over as the rift between the Otherworld realm and our world has not been understood. There is grave danger ahead. Now onto the last book in the trilogy, The Endless Knot.

Midst of a Miracle

2012-01-23T02:35:00.000-08:00

As I have gone through the transition from the end of the old year to the start of the new, I have spent some time recently just kind of meditating on the path of my life over the past decade, thinking about the upheavals and course changes that have come from both the shores of positive and negative turns. As you wade through the happenings of the day-to-day, your perspective can be a bit askew from the bigger scale picture. Dealing with everything that tries to lay claim to your attention, living and surviving down in the muck and mire, you can really miss some pretty important developments and happenings in your life. Certainly, such is the case with me. I have been a part of what I would consider to be miracles, but have never appreciated them or even recognized them. Wow, caught in the midst of a miracle and not even noticing. I find this to be a pretty amazing and surreal concept. I thought I would share one example today.

For nearly 10 years I lived in Ohio. I had a great job and was living life according to my plan. However, one day out of nowhere, I was overrun in a season of personal strife, and it was clear that I could not stay a moment longer. I made a call to a colleague of mine that I worked with in Virginia and told him that I was coming there to live and needed a job. The position materialized seemingly instantaneously and my work life and career progressed without the slightest hiccup. However, given all the personal crap that I was going through at the time, I never prayed about any of this. It's not that I took any of it for granted or was puffed up in my own pride, it's that I was just numb to so many things. The individual trees outgrew the forest.

However, when all of this went down 6 years ago, the senior position that I now occupy did not exist. On top of that, the budgets here were tight and there was a hiring freeze in place. The fact that I was hired essentially immediately after my job request is no trivial detail. I believe that I really was part of a miracle and that the Lord moved on my behalf to put me where I needed to be. I was in the midst of a miracle and I never recognized this until recently.

Cel-ebration

2012-01-20T02:34:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine has shared with me a number of times how special it is to take his young daughter to some of the places that he frequented as a child. He has oftentimes used the word surreal to describe these encounters. Something dream-like, unreal, fantastic. I get the sense that these times move in slow motion for him as he watches his child experience some of the same things that he did at her age. As he remembers his own emotions from back in the day, he carefully observes his daughter for how she will react. Picturing this in my mind, it warms me and I think I can appreciate how special these experiences are to both of them.

In my own way, over the past year I too have helped my daughter experience something that I very much enjoyed in my youth. Perhaps it is not as fantastic as taking her to physical places from my childhood, but I enjoy it immensely nonetheless. With the DVD release of the cartoons that I watched and enjoyed as a kid, I can share these memories with my daughter. This year we have been watching Looney Tunes, Bullwinkle and Rocky, and Underdog. My daughter has embraced these shows as well and it has become one of the ways that we relax and laugh together. Sort of a cel-ebration if you will.

The Paradise War

2012-01-19T02:38:00.000-08:00

I have just taken my first step on what I expect to be a wonderful journey, The Song of Albion trilogy by Stephen Lawhead. The set begins with The Paradise War. In modern day Britain we meet Lewis Gillies, an American graduate student enrolled at Oxford. Lewis is bright, hard-working, and serious about his studies. His roommate, Simon Rawnson, is bright in his own right, but he has wealth and title and cannot really be bothered to push himself. One morning Simon reads a story in the paper of a Scottish farmer who came across an extinct ox known as an aurochs. On a whim, he decides to go off on a road trip to check it out, with Lewis in tow.

After Simon and Lewis talk to the farmer, they find an ancient stone and earth monument in a nearby field. Simon crawls into an opening in this cairn and mysteriously vanishes. Lewis, at a loss of what to do, returns to Oxford where he is found by the eccentric Professor Nettleton who helps him to understand that the cairn is actually a portal to a parallel world. The appearance of the aurochs and several other beasties from that world is actually a sign of a critical problem with the bridge between the two worlds that puts both in grave danger. Lewis and the professor return to the cairn and Lewis follows the path Simon took into the other world, Albion.

Albion is an ancient Celtic land of warring tribal factions. Lewis finds Simon, who has joined the local ruling clan. Though Lewis and Simon have only been apart a few weeks, it seems that Simon has lived and thrived in Albion for years. Lewis joins the clan and goes off for several years of training. When he and his bard guide Tegid return, they find the king's holdings have been destroyed by an ancient evil force that is set to destroy Albion, and also threatens our world as well. Lewis and Tegid help to thwart this demonic plague, but along the way, they stumble across a plot to betray all that Albion holds dear, a plot that seemingly includes Simon. Now, on to the second volume in the trilogy, The Silver Hand.

Warp and Woof

2012-01-18T02:02:00.000-08:00

"The days are made on a loom whereof the warp and woof are past and future time." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Have you ever gone through a season where the days and weeks seemed to pass by in an instant? Somehow you did everything you normally do - you got up at the usual time, you did your thing at work, you spent time with your family, and yet nothing stands out. No thread of significance remains. In a blink and a whir, life races by in a flash, and you are left to shake your head and wonder where the time went.

In the act of carrying out tasks commonplace in nature, sometimes we can complete them, and then later not be certain if we even undertook them at all. Perhaps it was a question of whether you fed the pets or watered the plants or got the mail. It's a curious thing when our own actions are elusive to us. Yet that is exactly the nature of our minds when it comes to any rote chore or when we are simply enduring the usual. We drift into autopilot as we operate the treadles and the shuttle passes back and forth across the frame, tapping out its hypnotic and rhythmic beat. In the blink of an eye, a full bolt of cloth has been produced and we have no recollection of how it came to be. It is only when something out of the ordinary happens or when we pause to disrupt the flow of the same-old same-old, that we begin to take notice of the marks along the path. Then we can finally begin to revel in the beauty of God's creation around us. We can have a moment where we are fully present, and feel those sensations of contentedness and satisfaction and joy. Only then is time restored to a much more pleasing pace and we can clearly see the road that we are on.

Truth Seeker

2012-01-17T02:05:00.000-08:00

I am a truth seeker. A paladin of an ancient sect sworn to uncover and preserve all that humanity has buried over the years. A smith of the light who has been reared to push the heat from the furnace to its fiery limits such that the dross may be separated from the elemental gold that it had contaminated and obscured.

I am a truth seeker. A learned scholar with a wall-full of parchment, trained to unlock the secrets of the universe from the scale of galaxies to the scale of the sub-microscopic. A scientist of the light who has pledged to pursue fact with honor and integrity, trained to form final judgments only after every eventuality has been carefully investigated and considered.

I am a truth seeker, and yet ...

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do ... For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. (Romans 14-15, 18-20)

Yet, I am still a truth seeker, looking to separate from within myself the wheat from the ever-present chaff.

The Circle Maker

2012-01-16T03:16:00.000-08:00

Pastor Mark Batterson has become one of my favorite authors and I have thoroughly enjoyed each book that he has written thus far. In fact, I semi-regularly follow his blog and circle the date of his next book release on my calendar once it is announced. Such was the case with his most recent effort called The Circle Maker. The book is subtitled, Praying Circles Around Your Biggest Dreams and Greatest Fears. I know what you are thinking, just what the world needs, another book about the right way to pray so that we get what we want out of our god. Name it. Claim it.

But I think the concepts and teachings within this book are worth considering deeply. I suspect that they have personally given the crops in my life the opportunity to bear fruit in a season where the land seemed barren. There are several statements that Batterson made that struck me with wisdom: Who you become is determined by how you pray.
Prayer is a litmus test of faith. Do you trust God even when you don't get what you prayed for?
When prayers go unanswered, we must choose to believe that God has a better plan.
Praying starts with discerning what God wants and what God wills. Until His soverign will becomes your sanctified wish, your prayer life will be unplugged from its power supply.
I have enjoyed reading Batterson's blog and seeing how his experiences throughout the year end up as lessons in his writing. Not only does he share his victories and successes, but also his disappointments and failures. I sense that while he is a driven pastor of a quickly growing church, he has a humble, giving, and Godly spirit. He also has a talent for being relatable and is a good story teller. While I found a few minor things in this book that I took issue with, I got past them easily enough and I still highly recommend this book and fully appreciate the intent behind it.

Zoom In

2012-01-13T02:56:00.000-08:00

I keep a small prayer booklet on my desk. Each day I like to list a few folks that I want to pray for because they are going through something big or because I thought of them or because they are in the news or because I miss them or because they have played an important role in my life. The first person that I list each day is my daughter. It really is an automatic for me to pray over her and requires absolutely no thought or scratching of my head. However, one of the reasons that I started my prayer book was specifically to get into a mode where I purposefully and intentionally think beyond myself. I feel it important to regularly recognize others and lift them up in prayer.

I have found that most days it is easy for me to list a couple of folks whose names have alighted upon my mind. However, I have also noticed that when I am going through a funk, a bit of melancholia, or when something is bothering me, that I really struggle to find names to include on my list. It seems like I am so taken with me and my issues that I develop a sort of spiritual writer's block. Try as I might to think of someone, anyone to list, my mind is a barren wasteland. I have zoomed in upon myself to such a degree that it seems nothing else is able to enter my field of view. However, instead of heaping further coals upon my head by beating myself up, I have been trying to lift my myopia up in prayer. I ask humbly for the Lord to open my eyes and my heart and to use me.

... in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

Sinner

2012-01-12T02:45:00.000-08:00

The final volume in the Paradise series trilogy is called Sinner and represents for me, the final chapter in Ted Dekker's Books of History Chronicles. This suite of novels includes the Circle series, the Paradise series, the Lost Books series, and several lone titles like House, Skin, and Immanuel's Veins. It has been quite a ride and I have very much enjoyed the story lines and the characters that have been a part of this grand undertaking.

In Sinner, the story focuses on the three surviving students from Project Showdown, Billy, Darcy, and Johnny. All are in their mid-twenties and as a result of writing in the books of history, they have developed supernatural powers. Johnny, as we learned in Saint, had a sort of telekinetic talent that ultimately transformed into heightened vision. Billy could read people's minds. Darcy had great power with her voice to affect the actions of people around her.

The backdrop of the story is a time where tolerance became the big push for humanity. In an effort to control a rising tide of hate speech, which was resulting in lynchings across the country, Billy and Darcy helped to change the constitution to curb freedom of speech. However, this change also severely curbed religious freedom. It made speaking the gospel a federal offense. Preaching Christianity became a form of hate speech. However, behind this movement to dim the light and promote darkness lay the true antagonist of this series, Marsuvees Black, who Billy had originally created when he was a young boy by writing in the books of history. Black is the very personification of evil. The final battle between light and dark all comes back to the small town of Paradise, Colorado.

This story is the most contrived of the trilogy. It too often seemed to drift, with major themes touched on, but never really fully developed or brought to satisfactory conclusion. The biggest issue is the ending. After the dust from the final showdown settled, the "heroes" had seemingly achieved nothing and decided to accept being silenced and to look out for themselves. From a certain perspective, the forces of darkness seemed to have won a great victory.

WWYD

2012-01-11T03:00:00.000-08:00

Let's play a little morality game. Maybe this will be a pretty easy exercise for you. You can consider what I have to say and then walk away with a clean conscience. However, maybe it will give you pause and cause you to reflect a bit as you read today's headlines and pass judgment on the actions of others.

What would you do?

You see an emaciated child slip a candy bar from the grocery store into his pocket when he thinks nobody is watching. What about if it were a well-dressed child in designer clothes?
You observe a down-and-out homeless person steal something from the back of someone's pick up truck.
You witness a coworker taking some office supplies from the supply cabinet and slip them into her purse. What if you knew that she was about to default on her mortgage?
You find that your boss has cheated on the monthly accounts to save his job. What if he cheated to save your job?
You learn that your boss has taken advantage of a low-level co-worker.

I don't know about you, but with each question that I considered, the answer should have been black and white, but I found myself couching my thinking in various shades of gray. But I have read news story after news story where people were burned in effigy for reacting just like I may have reacted or hesitated just as I may have hesitated in a real-world morality situation. Meanwhile all of the reactionaries and pundits wag their fingers and play the role of Mother Superior.

The Power of Garlic

2012-01-10T02:54:00.000-08:00

My friend Rob is a preacher-man. He wrote a piece on his blog entitled "You've Got More Power Than You Realize". I recently pondered this title deeply as I choked and gagged the other afternoon. Perhaps I should attempt to explain myself here a bit lest you get the wrong impression.

I had an early afternoon meeting the other day, just past lunch time. The meeting took place in a fairly large conference room that measured about 50 ft across (that is 15800.26 meters for you foreigners). The meeting had just gotten underway when a straggler entered the room and made his way to an empty seat on the far side of the room from me. His foul, rancid lunch food breath filled up the room with an almost visible haze. I could not find clean air and my eyes started to water and burn. The meeting chairman decided to close the doors to the room so that we would not disturb those who had offices across the hall. This did not allow for any air circulation. Due to the number of folks in the room giving off their body heat, the temperature in the room began to escalate. This caused some sort of chemical reaction with the room funk that kicked the garlicky cloud into overdrive. It was like a punch in the gut. I doubled over wheezing and gagging. I thought to myself, "That dude has a lot more power than he realizes". I'm then smiled smugly to myself just before I passed out because I likely was the only one who fully grasped the true meaning of Rob's post.

Saint

2012-01-09T03:06:00.000-08:00

The second book in the "Paradise" series by author Ted Dekker is entitled Saint, which follows 15 years after Showdown. The story begins following the bizarre training of a 25 year old man named Carl Strople. Carl has been completely brainwashed by scientists within an entity known as The X Group, who have been working to make him into the ultimate assassin. While their techniques are unconventional and inhumane, the skill of their elite squad is unmatched. However, Carl turns out to be more than just a good shot, he can direct the flight of a bullet over a distance of nearly 2 miles to knock a fly out of the air. Actually this is just the tip of his true powers.

Carl's first mission is to travel from Hungary to the U.S. to kill the Iranian defense minister. At the last minute his orders are changed and he is instead told to kill the president. The X Group is involved in an intricate plot to destroy Israel and re-map the Middle East. Although his mind has been reprogrammed, Carl senses that something is terribly wrong with this plan. However, to disobey will cause his handlers to terminate him with a small device implanted into his brain. So, Carl shoots the president through the chest, but ensures that he does not die. It is then that The X Group sends their top man, one Dale Crompton, to clean up the mess that has developed and complete the mission, leaving absolutely no loose ends.

At this point we start to find out who Carl and Dale really are, as well as their links to Project Showdown and the Books of History. The story is really all about the ongoing battle of good vs. evil. Of course, evil knows its nature through and through. However, the interesting twist in this story is that good was not self-aware and did not appreciate its role and its power until the last moment. An engaging story that was a fun and a light read (and only required me to suspend belief along a couple of Dekker's threads). Now, on to the last volume in the series, Sinner.

Taking Stock

2012-01-06T03:05:00.000-08:00

As another year has just come to a close, it is fully appropriate to spend a few moments looking back to take stock of where you have been and what you have done. Was it a good year, one lived well and marked by hard work that made a difference or notably filled with joy and overall happiness? Perhaps it is appropriate to hand out a few grades that will show where you have done well and where you have fallen short, what you can count as victories and what you should count as defeats. I thought I would share what came to mind as I considered this for the past year.

Victories

Health - My overall health this year has been great. This is listed as a victory because I have been committed to exercise, a healthy lifestyle, and a reasonable control of my diet.
Raising my daughter - While there are always areas of my daughter's life where I wish I had more impact or influence, I know that I have given all of myself to her.
Progress at work - I am satisfied with my performance at work. I approach it consistently with a good attitude and give of myself and my talents.
House upkeep - Historically I have been quite lazy about home repairs and general upkeep. This past year I was purposeful about staying on top of things, whether it was working in the yard or home repairs.
Hobbies - I was purposeful about my blogging this past year and am pleased with what I produced. I also really enjoyed my time with the books that I read. I ensured that my hobbies were enjoyable and did not become a chore.

Defeats

Volunteering - For the past few years I volunteered at my church. This past year I did very little because it did not fit my schedule and my heart. As I result I have noticed that my church isn't as much my church any more.
Making friends - I tried to make some friends during the year, but things did not go as I had hoped. I find that the further I drift from relationships, the less I am motivated to even try.
Finding a special someone - I had done some serious "sun stand still" type praying that I would meet someone this past year to share my life with. I am still setting a table for one.
Losing regrets - My life is often ruled by the winds of regret. I had hoped to gain some measure of control this past year. I had very little success.
Church group - After struggling to fit into a church small group in 2010, I tried again to find a group in 2011. It started off pretty well I thought, but then I self destructed several months in and needed to step back.

Growing Hearts

2012-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Each year the place where I work hosts a group of underprivileged children from the local area during the holidays to give them a grand Christmas party. A chance for them to feel like the center of attention, to have a fuss made over them through an afternoon of laughter and fun activities and tasty snacks. During the first few weeks of December, distribution boxes for Toys for Tots are set out around site and folks are called upon to donate. For a while now I have made it part of my ritual to buy two nice toys, one for a little boy and one for a little girl, to add to the pile. It is actually kind of heartwarming to walk past the drop-off points and see them brimming with neat stuff for the kids.

The organizers of the event also have a tradition to supply some number of bicycles for the kids. This year was no different. For most youngsters, getting a new bike is one of the greatest things ever. It is all the more of a rush when they get something like this out of the blue. Something that not only will let their imaginations soar to new heights, but also will grow their hearts. You know what an unbelievable blessing it is by the squeals of the children and the happy tears streaming down the parent's faces.

Showdown

2012-01-04T02:40:00.000-08:00

For most of last year, I was fully immersed in the fantasy worlds created by Ted Dekker. This includes his wonderful Circle series books, Black, Red, White, and Green, his Lost series books, Chosen, Infidel, Renegade, Chaos, Lunatic, and Elyon, and his book Skin. These 11 books are all part and parcel of the same family, with different books tackling different story arcs and segments and tangents. Now I am continuing my reading in this series with the final phase of books called the Paradise trilogy. The first Paradise series book is entitled Showdown. Oh boy did Dekker keep me on edge the whole time. This was just good old fashioned story telling. Of course, it was all the more enjoyable for me because I already knew quite a bit about the antagonist in this story and some of the plot elements from some of the other books above.

This book tells the story of Project Showdown, a massive venture funded by an ex-Harvard professor to study good vs. evil and how it develops in children fully sheltered from the influences of the outside world. Three dozen children, consisting of orphaned and unwanted babies, are brought to a special monastery outside the small mountain town of Paradise, Colorado. Here they are raised by monks in a manner to foster love. However, there is more to the existence of this monastery than initially meets the eye. It is actually a library for the lost books of history that hold untold power for both good and evil.

Meanwhile, in the town of Paradise, some powerful force has taken over the minds of the residents. The once peaceful town of working-class folks become mindless puppets in the hands of a strange and powerful monk named Marsuvees Black. Yet while Black is ultimately seen to be the figurehead of evil, he is actually controlled by another. Just when evil seems ready to triumph, two young boys risk all they have and lean on grace and hope to restore light to the world. Now, onward to the next book in the series, Saint.

Black Box Lesson

2012-01-03T03:02:00.000-08:00

If you have ever watched the cartoon South Park, it is fairly common after all of the hijinks have ensued and the carnage has been wrought, for Stan Marsh to stand up and begin a soliloquy with the words, "You know what, I learned something today ...". So I decided to channel Stan today to tell you about a lesson that I learned that was kind of amusing but also taught an important life lesson.

I work at a facility that carefully checks all people driving on and off the site. In order for me to enter, I must scan my personnel badge in front of a black box on a guard house. When I do this, my photograph and job clearance authorizations show up on a computer screen. A guard then verifies that everything is in order and then pushes a button to activate the swing arm that allows me access to drive through.

The black box is about a foot square, with a light in the upper corner that turns from red to green when my badge is scanned. For some reason, I thought that this light was actually the optical scanner. For several years I had trouble getting the scanner to register my badge as I flopped it around in front of the light. This always caused me to grumble and complain and carry on. However, I finally came to understand that the light in the corner of the black box is just an LED. The sensitive scanner is actually in the middle of the black box. So, it turned out that I was having troubles because I was scanning my badge incorrectly.

So, what's the lesson? Well, when things don't go our way and it affects us negatively, it could be because it's our own fault! Huh, imagine that.

Happy New Year 2012

2012-01-02T03:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked the start of a new year as everyone is, no doubt, aware. Some did not give this day a second thought, just another in life's string. The only difference was that it required a calendar page be turned, but otherwise, all went on as any other Sunday. But as for me, I took a few moments to celebrate the biggest blessing my life has known, the birthday of my wonderful daughter.

As I wrote last year at this time, my daughter was embarking on her first year as a teenager. Through prayer and luck and forces beyond my vision, we both survived this year reasonably well. My daughter plowed ahead growing up too fast for me to keep up with, and I followed behind pointlessly muttering, "Wait", to no avail. But yesterday I celebrated with joy my daughter and our relationship for all that it has been thus far. I stand ready with her to face and embrace the new year ahead. Happy, happy birthday.

Oh, and happy new year to my online friends. See you in the blogosphere in the days and weeks and months ahead. Blessings to you all and glad tidings.

Resolutions 2011

2011-12-30T03:01:00.000-08:00

For the past several years during the last week of December, I have sat down and prepared a list of New Year's resolutions. The items that I list are not of the sort, "Gee, I hope I win the lottery!" Instead, they represent areas where there is some deficiency in my life that I recognize (which for me is the first step to taking action), and then I consciously work to give effort to make adjustments or improvements.

As I make my new list of resolutions for the year ahead, I also look back to see how well I succeeded with my goals from the year just past. As you might imagine every year, not everything goes as I had hoped or wished. This year was no different. But even though my resolutions are deeply personal to me, perhaps by sharing I can help encourage someone out there to realize that giving your best effort is equally as important as succeeding. When I can look back on something that has not gone well or ended badly, if I can say that I did everything that I could, I find that regret does not sink its jagged talons into my flesh.

So, here is my list with a brief commentary for each item.

To ask a woman out on a date - I went out on one date this year, but only one. At least I tried and kept my eyes open.
To exercise the whole year - Here I made an unqualified success. I was consistent from start to finish and did everything that I wanted.
To make several new friends - I thought that I had a few folks that I was getting close to and was enjoying their company. It turns out that for several reasons none of these folks is any longer in my life. So this goal definitely was not met.
To grow closer to God - I'm not sure that I made progress here. I have focused on my prayer life, go to church and give, and read my devotionals. For whatever reasons, God has felt so distant from me this year and it is having an effect on me.
To grow closer to my daughter - I have never loved my daughter more, but this past year has been difficult for both of us as she is growing up and I am struggling to let go. However, I am doing everything that I think I am capable of doing to be a good father to her.
To find some degree of happiness and peace - Another year has passed and I still struggle to hang on. Too often feelings of hopelessness break me and steal my smile. I continue to try though, but it has been tough.

Now I will prepare my list of resolutions for 2012 and plan to give my best effort to be successful on each one.

Blog 2011 Recap II

2011-12-29T03:07:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned yesterday in part 1 of this post (Blog 2011 Recap I), I wanted to share what, in my view, are my favorite posts from this past year. Most of these were borne out of some frustration that I was feeling or represented a lamentation. Sometimes just giving voice to a choking thought or a frustrating failure or a bit of melancholia can be freeing and uplifting. So, here is my own top 10 list from my posts this year (in no particular order).

Valleys series, Acute, Obtuse (Sep. 21,22) - A series I wrote about living with and through life's struggles.
Subtle series, 1, 2 (Sep. 16,17) - A series that I wrote as I struggled with a God who seems to be satisfied with being far too subtle for me.
Chess (Aug. 16) - A bit of inspiration that I had about finding love unexpectedly.
Along the Watchtower (Jun. 16) - About betrayal of trust and a broken heart.
Fortress (Jun. 1) - Written to someone that I badly hurt, someone who I cared for very much.
No Time (May 17) - About lamenting the passage of time and my daughter growing up.
Strange Currencies (Mar. 11) - Written about the strange things that people cling to, even when they know better.
airportman (Feb. 16) - Written to the wise man who needs some of his own wisdom.
Big Church series, I, II, III, IV (Feb. 7-10) - Written about my struggles and frustrations with my fast-growing church.
Perspective (Jan. 14) - Almost a bit of prose, but a piece about the beauty of perspective on the good things in life.

I hope some of these touched you as well. If you missed them, just follow the links back. See you in the 2012 recap!

(Part 2 of 2)

Blog 2011 Recap I

2011-12-28T03:21:00.000-08:00

Just about a year ago, I made the hard decision to decrease the number of my blog posts from 6 per week to 5. While several folks commented that they would miss my Saturday posts, looking back I know it was the right decision for me for several reasons. The first is that my site traffic on Saturdays is minimal. (If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it ...) Second, I think the extra posts had an impact on the overall quality of my writing. I much prefer to write when inspired rather than throw something out to meet some deadline. Sometimes I like to write a piece and let it sit for a while and then revisit my draft later to put the final touches in place. Finally, reducing my output has allowed me to feel less pressure. Writing is meant to be a labor of love, not a chore or a burden. Writing to fulfill some full-speed ahead pace can only lead to bitterness, frustration, and wasted time. Worse, it leads to uninspired words that have no value to anyone.

This year I have written more than 260 posts. Never once have I felt rushed or forced. Each piece, whether it was something silly or something deep, has come from my heart and represents a piece of me. I really enjoyed writing my blog this year. I look forward to continuing on into 2012, my fifth year of writing Return to Zero. Tomorrow I will share my top 10 list of my own blogs for 2011.

(Part 1 of 2)

Best Books of 2011

2011-12-27T03:42:00.000-08:00

I have done a lot of reading this year, finishing more than 70 books. I worked my way through most of the Ted Dekker catalog, poring through more than 20 of his novels. Man did I have some good adventures along the way. Plenty to keep my mind active and my imagination soaring. Lots to make me think and take stock. So, here is the list of my top 10 "books" for this year in no particular order. Note that I put books in quotes, because I count a series by a given author as just one entry.

The Circle series (Black, Red, White, Green), Ted Dekker
Soul Print, Mark Batterson
The King Raven trilogy (Hood, Scarlet, Tuck), Stephen Lawhead
The Dreamhouse Kings series (House of Dark Shadows, Watcher in the Woods,Gatekeepers, Timescape, Whirlwind, Frenzy), Robert Liparulo
Graceling and Fire, Kristin Cashore
Through Painted Deserts, Donald Miller
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller
The Lost Books series (Chosen, Infidel, Renegade, Chaos, Lunatic, Elyon), Ted Dekker
Patrick, Stephen Lawhead
On the Anvil, Max Lucado

I am already starting to plan out my reading list for the first part of 2012 (and I have a stack of books in the queue sitting in my office). However, if you have any suggestions, please pass them along. I keep my list of reads up to date on my Shelfari page.

Merry Christmas 2011

2011-12-26T03:06:00.000-08:00

Wow, another year has passed us by. It feels like the time just flew. Try as I might to grab it to slow its headlong rush, it slipped through my fingers unabated. However, as I celebrated yesterday with my daughter, I wanted to write just a brief note to all my online friends to thank you for visiting my site and leaving your comments. I pray that you had a merry Christmas and I wish you the best in the year ahead.

(P.S. The above painting was created during the Christmas Eve service at Waters Edge Church. A lovely and moving moment that reminded us that Christ makes all things beautiful, out of the dust.)

About Me

2011-12-23T03:14:00.000-08:00

For more years than I would care to acknowledge, the Christmas season is a time that I would just as soon avoid altogether. I almost wish that I could just hibernate through it or step directly from the third week of December to January. Don't get me wrong, I love the time spent with my daughter and lavishing her with lots of goodies and fun things that will elicit squeals and laughter and great joy. However, this year will mark the seventh that I have lived through a different type of Christmas than what I used to know. Those wonderful seasons of two have faded into the darker reality of one. I'm not sure if or when I will ever really get past this. I sense that it will always be something that I struggle with.

This year I have kind of forced myself to focus in on what I should be dwelling on in this season. Christmas should be a day to fully revel in the birth of Jesus Christ. This aspect alone should be enough to sate my spirit, to fill me to overflowing with joy and warmth and satisfaction. Of course, the fact that I know this and it is still not enough to pull me out of the darkness, just seems to add to the pressure that I already feel. It's like I have to be fully on the defensive from moment to moment. The instant that the clouds appear on the horizon, "It's not about me." The second that I want all the celebrations to vaporize, "It's Not About Me." The tick where I begin feel sorry for myself and start to embrace regret, "IT'S NOT ABOUT ME!"

Grandfather's Clock

2011-12-22T03:49:00.000-08:00

It rang an alarm
In the dead of the night,
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit
Was pluming for flight,
That his hour of departure had come.

My daughter's favorite CD when she was quite young included a song called "My Grandfather's Clock". For reasons that I do not understand, this song with its sombre and haunting tone and themes of aging and inescapable death, always affected me. If we were listening to this CD in the car and the song came on, I would quickly skip past it. Its pull was beyond my strength as it made my mind wander into thoughts that I wanted no business with.

The other night I was tidying up some things in my closet, and I came across this CD. It hadn't been touched in nearly ten years. It happened to be a night when I was a bit down and I was alone. As I ran my fingers over the edges of the jewel case, I started to cry. Shadows once short now extend across my face and remind me far too often that time marches on and carries me unwillingly along.

Burn

2011-12-21T03:09:00.000-08:00

Burn by Ted Dekker and Erin Healy, is the story of Janeal Mikkado, the 17 year old daughter of the leader of a band of western gypsies. As the story begins, Janeal is disillusioned with her life within the kumpania, mainly because as a "half-breed" (her mother was not a gypsy), she has never gained acceptance and is treated with open disdain. Growing up she has become more and more inward focused, ever planning for the day when she can leave this life behind. Even her boyfriend Robert and her friend Katie are just a means to this end.

One night as Janeel is seeking some solitude out on the mesa, she is approached by Sanso Salazaar, a ruthless drug dealer and counterfeiter. Janeel's father has 1 million dollars of his bogus money that he is desperate to get back to keep the DEA from coming down on him. Janeel's father had some shady dealings with Salazaar and he is about to lead the DEA in to bring this kingpin down. Salazaar seeks to enlist Janeel's help in recovering his money, and if she does as she is told, the plan to kill her father will be called off and she will be rewarded financially. Janeel is drawn to Sanso because he represents power and adventure. Perhaps more importantly, Janeel sees his money as her means to finally escape her tribe and begin her life on the outside. However, things don't work out as Janeel tries to con the con man. It results in the torching of the gypsy settlement and most of their tribe being slaughtered. Janeel, however, makes her escape with the counterfeit money, but the cost is that her friend Katie dies in the fire. The tragedy is that Janeel waited too long debating whether she should help Katie or save herself.

Nearly 15 years later, Janeel has become quite successful as a New York magazine executive. She has done whatever she needed to do through the years to survive and thrive, and to protect herself without a thought to helping others. Robert, who survived the fire, has become a DEA agent who has dedicated his life to bring Salazaar to justice. Also, we meet Katie, who, it seems, has somehow survived after all. Dear, sweet Katie, who was blinded and deeply scarred by the events, but has dedicated her life to helping women in a half-way house. Yet there is more to both Janeel and Katie than meets the eye, as Robert finds out. Not a bad effort here, but Dekker leans too much on using his "unexpected twist" gimmick when there are other ways that could have led to tighter more relatable storyline.

There are two chambers in every heart, one for Judas and one for John.

Consistency

2011-12-20T03:32:00.000-08:00

Suppose you find yourself taking a test. You have a freshly sharpened No.2 pencil in your hand, poised above your exam paper. You come to a multiple choice question and consider it. Among the answer options, you see that (b) is clearly the correct answer, yet you circle (d) instead. You recognize that you have not circled the correct answer, but you do not move to fix your mistake. Of course, when the test is graded and returned, your grade reflects that you provided the wrong answer to the question. This sounds really stupid, yet I make this kind of mistake nearly every day. The issue is consistency.

I need to carefully watch what I eat due to a number of health issues, yet I walk past the bag of candy and grab a handful. Worse yet, I fix my dinner plate with enough food for 2 and sometimes 3 servings.
I am a homeowner and understand that repairs are best dealt with promptly before they become a major problem later. Yet I put things off and put things off.
I have very few friends and I recognize how important they can be in my life. Yet I avoid cultivating these relationships.
I have come to know that spending a few moments in the morning with my devotional and in prayer improves my spirit and my outlook. Yet too often in the hustle and bustle I too easily forgot.

Why do I continue to circle the wrong answer on the test when I know the right one? Why am I so inconsistent in some things and miss the mark time and again? I guess it is equal parts fear, laziness, forgetfulness, and impatience. One thing that I have found that works (at least for some things, certainly not all by any means) is to write everything that I would like to complete on my daily "to-do list". That way I have a constant reminder before my eyes. Furthermore, as I am success driven, I cannot claim completion of my work until all items are checked off.

What are some of your secrets to consistency?

What is Friendship?

2011-12-19T03:05:00.000-08:00

According to my dictionary, a friend is defined as a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. Hmmm. So if you use this as a metric, how many friends would you say that you have? Dozens or a few? From my way of looking at this, I think most folks tend to refer to pretty much anyone they know as a friend. While I know many people at my workplace and church and have been in and around them for years, I don't really consider them my friends. I should think that acquaintance is a much more appropriate term, but I feel this goes beyond mere semantics. I even suspect that some folks would be somewhat wounded by my characterization. But I mean no disrespect.

People who you work with are around you because of your job. While you might be friendly toward them, how many would you hang out with if you were to change employers? I tend to view friendship as more than just the causal "how ya doin'?" relationship with a co-worker or somebody that I chat with about current events in the lobby at church. To me, a friend is:

someone that I interact with regularly on a very personal level.
someone who knows me and my crap and accepts me.
someone who enjoys my company.
someone that I spend time with socially.

So, what do you think? What is friendship?

Bear Down

2011-12-16T03:01:00.000-08:00

The other day my daughter blew me away and really just made me proud to be her father. She came home from school after a day of not feeling too well. However, she also arrived home with a list of homework that stretched out toward the horizon. A major science lab report to finish, preparations for a test and a quiz, work on her spanish project, two math worksheets, and both an english and a civics assignment. She went at it with all that she had from the moment she got home until her bed time. While she had a few bouts along the way where anxiety tried to bubble to the surface, she maintained her control, her spirit, her humor, and her concentration. The only break she took was a quick 20-minute pit stop to eat her supper.

The best part of the day for me after all of the hustle and bustle, was the last few minutes before her bed time. She asked me to play a game with her on the computer. In that brief time, even though she was exhausted and her mind was fried, she thanked me for the nice dinner and for my help throughout the evening. She then defeated me far too easily in the tank battle game that we were playing and went to bed with a smile on her face.

Vision Statement

2011-12-15T03:08:00.000-08:00

It seems in today's doggy-doggy world of high-level corporate intrigue and savage, hardline, competition, every company needs to stop everything that they are doing, hire dozens of ludicrously paid top-tier executives, and write a vision statement. A vision statement is some pithy paragraph that encapsulates and captures the raison d'etre (i.e. what are we here for again?) of the company. Today's CEO, COO, and CFO types somehow don't think that the peons toiling down in the mines can effectively get their jobs done without a very carefully prepared statement, orchestrated at the expense of millions of dollars and countless lives. Once prepared, this statement is added as an obscure link on the company's web page or stuck into a filing cabinet somewhere on the third floor.

I have been around several companies as they birthed such a statement. Unless you are a cretin, you should understand that every vision statement must contain the word "synergy". Also, for the statement preparation "team", the word "synergy" must be included at least 4.5 times in every Powerpoint presentation. ... What's that? ... You don't know what this word means? Well, to help you advance in the corporate word, to climb that ladder of success past the glass ceiling and into the attic, let me tell you. Synergy corresponds to a Utopian ideal espoused by various hippies and ne'er-do-wells. It involves a condition where everyone sits around in a big circle, munches granola, and sings cumbaya. Folks enjoined in this circle are required to sway back and forth in unison to the swelling background music.

So, even though it may seem that preparing such vision statements is a collossal waste of time and money, that it leads to a company top heavy with useless management types at the expense of overburdened workers who actually are responsible for making the companies highly profitable widgets but there is no money left to ease their burden or lower their quotas because more executives were just hired, it is not for you to question this rampant synergism. Just trust me when I tell you that it is critical for your company's long-term success metrics.

Words & Sentences

2011-12-14T03:14:00.000-08:00

Several folks I know have told me that they find blogger Tyler Tarver hilarious. Until I started writing this post, I had never visited his site, but a quick peak told me that he has been posting regularly now for almost two years. His first published work, Words and Sentences, is a sort of compendium of his blog posts. Given that I like to laugh every once in a while, I thought I would give this book a chance and picked up a copy. Here are a few observations from my reading.

This author likely got a lot of laughs in high school from his classmates. This probably emboldened him to rise into the role of class clown. Now in his mid-20's, he has shown no signs of maturing in his sense of humor.
Mr. Tarver clearly has a rather high opinion of his own work. He loves to tell you every other paragraph just how clever he thinks he is.
The author's approach is to throw everything that he has at the wall and hope that something, anything sticks.
While I sincerely appreciate his enthusiasm, and likely his style helps him in his job as a high school teacher, this book is the very epitome of sophomoric dreck. It is cloying in its inanity from start to finish.
I have a shelf full of Dave Barry humor books and have thoroughly enjoyed each of them. Dave Barry's writing can sometimes be inane, but he pulls it off successfully because he knows when to ease off the reins and employ a subtle touch or let an anecdote tell itself without all the "wink wink, nudge nudge" overbearing ferocity of a young Howie Mandel on crack.
Looking at Mr. Tarver's blog site, he clearly has some funny concepts and has lots of funny photos and randoms bits of silliness. I think Mr. Tarver's work is likely much more easily swallowed, and perhaps even appreciated, in much, much smaller doses.

I gave this work every possible opportunity to show me something, anything. I read every word and every sentence, but there is just so little here that connects with my funny bone. Of course, and this may be the key, I am pretty much a fossil and know nothing about anything. So, don't take my opinion as anything more than my opinion.

What is Love?

2011-12-13T03:23:00.000-08:00

Do you know what love is? I don't mean love of food or your favorite hobby or sports team. I'm talking more about love for another, although not for your friends or your family. I'm thinking about the condition or state of mind that can overwhelm us when we have met (or think that we have) that special someone. For reasons not always clear, we can feel an irresistible pull toward someone that is based on more than just physical beauty and we can lose ourselves to the chemical cascade that courses through our systems. In the moment when our minds are befogged in their own euphoric domain, typically far removed from reality or logic or sense, we can sometimes make some very passionate declarations. "I love you."

I wonder how many of us have declared our love for someone only to learn at some later point that our pronouncements were either wildly premature or not sustainable with time. Some might tell you that those squishy, tingly, bubbly feelings that flood your system when you first meet someone or in the early part of a relationship are not love. They are some sort of lesser entity held loosely by infatuation. True love they aver is not an emotion but a mindset. I don't agree. While emotion may not be the bricks that make up the relational wall, they are most certainly the mortar that binds it together. The emotion is what provides the spontaneity, the magic, the fun. It's the source that provides the twinkle to the eye and the playful glances and laughter in the day to day.

So, what do you think? What is love?

Funday MadLibs

2011-12-12T03:06:00.000-08:00

Today is not Monday, despite what you calendar or PDA or SmartPhone might tell you. I declare it Funday, and seeing that this is my blog, it has now become an official decree. In what follows, I provide a post that I have partially written. I say partially, because, try as I might, I just could not think of some words that I needed. I mean, they were on the tip of my brain, but alas, would not come forth. So, on Funday, I leave it up to you to try and make some sense of my ramblings by putting you to work.

It was a morning, the kind that makes you want to your poodle across the community fairgrounds. Despite this, you have soldiered on and driven your car into your job. When you arrived, some left the coffee pot baking on the burner with no coffee inside, rendering it . You then took said coffee pot and him upside the head with a to some sense into him. It was not a scene. After dealing with the police and offering them a , you got back to work and spent the rest of the day with your many paperweights. Satisfied that you enough for all practical purposes, you and headed home, so that you can be ready to repeat this same tomorrow.

So, go ahead and fill in the blanks by using a permanent "Sharpie" type marker and writing directly on your computer screen. You'll have a hoot showing your boss how creative and witty you are!

Neverland

2011-12-09T03:08:00.000-08:00

I found myself noodling a bit today about things that I have never done or have never happened to me. Really, I was just mindlessly drifting along, letting the neurons go down whatever channels suited their fancy. Here are a few things that bubbled to the surface.

I have never kissed a blond-haired woman.
I have never worn culottes.
I have never owned a pair of loafers.
I have never seen a superhero movie in the movie theater.
I have never gone on a traditional "dinner and a movie" date.
I have never used a $2 bill or a Susan B. Anthony dollar as legal tender for a good or service.
I have never flown in a dirigible or lighter-than-air craft of any kind.
I have never worn a tuxedo or shaken hands with anyone who was wearing one.
I have never worn eyeliner or any sort of skin bronzer.
I have never danced with the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.
I have never had scurvy or worn an eye patch.
I have never pined for the fjords.
I have never walked backwards for an entire city block.
I have never been in Iowa, Wyoming, or Oklahoma.
I have never used duct tape on actual duct work.
I have never written a blog post that has gotten double-digit comments.

What are a few of your nevers?

Skin

2011-12-08T03:19:00.000-08:00

In Ted Dekker's thriller Skin, a group of apparent strangers is caught up together in a small town in Nevada called Summerville as a result of a freak storm. Five people brought together by seemingly natural circumstances, yet there is a hidden connection in their past. Colt is a small-town cop whose mother was a prostitute and abandoned him as a child. Wendy is newly on her own after escaping an oppressive cult. Pinkus is a computer gamer who has suffered from epilepsy. Finally, there is the brother and sister Carey and Nicole. Carey is somehow linked to the occult and his sister is a pure beauty but overly innocent. Once trapped in Summerville, a serial killer named Sterling Red reveals himself to the group. After demonstrating his power, he tells them that they must kill the ugliest among them or he will begin to systematically wipe out the inhabitants of the town.

As the story progresses, Dekker's point is to explore the notion of ugliness from the viewpoint of flawed humanity. True beauty runs deeper than the surface layer that we present to the outside. Through the developing narrative, Dekker reveals what links all of the characters together and pulls back the curtains to show how our initial impressions of others do not truly reflect who they are. It is much deeper than the skin.

As I was reading this book, especially the first half, its plot and circumstances were very similar to House by Dekker and Frank Peretti. The second half of the book then ran in a slightly different direction but left several questions unanswered even after the plot lines ran their course. It was then that I learned that this book was intended to serve as a kind of bridge between Dekker's "Circle" series and his "Paradise" series. Certainly, Skin was nothing special, a bit played out and recycled, stale production line writing, but it did keep me company for a few nights and pulled me in at each reading with enough desire to see it through.

Doctor Doctor

2011-12-07T03:05:00.000-08:00

I recently went to the doctor because of a problem with one of my toes (see Foot Steps). Although even the most casual of observers would have commended me for my bravery and fortitude during my small surgery, I did have some "issues" with the doctor's office that simply begged for a blog. Of course, it goes without saying that every word of this is true. Let me share.

I made my way to the exam room where a nurse came in to get some information from me. In a most serious manner she informed me that the questions that she was about to ask were vital for their medical records and to ensure that I got the best care. Her first question, "Do you own or rent your home?".
I was sitting in the operating room chair with my extremely painful foot propped into position for the doctor to operate on when a nurse came in the room to check on me. As we killed a moment with some small talk, I made a joke. At this moment the nurse "playfully" swatted at me like a crazed Vietnamese badminton player aiming to slam a wayward shuttlecock. Of course she made direct contact with my toe. The pain radiated through me like a red-hot firebrand and I screamed out, "Jehosephat woman!"
I had a similar procedure on my other foot just over a year ago and it hurt like my foot was on fire and someone put it out with a bag of nickels. The nurse then assured me that this sort of "discomfort" would not happen on her watch as she began to spread some topical numbing jelly on a gauze pad before they were to inject me with needles of various sizes and colors. I picked up the jar of goo and noticed that the expiration date had passed more than 4 months ago.

With all of the shenanigans that I endured, it is a wonder that I am still here to tell the tale.

Grind My Gears 26

2011-12-06T03:22:00.000-08:00

Did you hear that? That clandestine whooshing and skittering noise followed by a low cackle? ... There it is again ... and again. In fact in the space of just a few minutes, if you are not a complete lout, you will hear this same sound hundreds upon hundreds of times if you sit on my front porch steps. What is the cause you ask? It is those danged leaves falling out of the trees and landing on my lawn. I have watched them from the cover of my rose bushes. Just when they think nobody is watching, they cut loose from their branches and make a bee-line to the ground. I spend hours raking, bagging, and yelling myself hoarse until my yard is spotless. Then, in the ever so brief duration of time from when I walk to my shed to put away the tools until I return, the yard is once again completely re-covered in leaves. This whole process of nature seems like quite a poor design. It totally grinds my gears. I mean who invented disposable leaves? What is the point of even letting trees have the option of irresponsibly shedding? I don't have the time or energy to spend dealing with nature's insouciant littering. Maybe I should leave a pile of cord wood and an idling chainsaw in my front yard as a stern warning of my power.

Nothing at All

2011-12-05T03:02:00.000-08:00

Alison Krauss, a popular country singer, had a hit 15 years ago with the song, When You Say Nothing at All. The main chorus contains the line, "You say it best when you say nothing at all". This song represents a celebration of the sweet, simple, and beautiful non-verbal communication between lovers. However, over the years this tag line is applicable to me on a whole different plane. Perhaps you can relate to this story as well.

The other day someone came into my office to complain about something. While they had a fire lit under their backside, it was a point that I really didn't give a hoot about. What I should have done was to hear them out, nod my head supportively whilst they vented and carried on, and then let them go on their way. That would have been the end of it and the smoke would have quickly dissipated.

Instead, their attitude and attack formation set me off first in a defensive counter-attack, and then into a full-on frontal assault. I proceeded to tell them they were wrong, demonstrate their wrongness in as condescending a manner as possible, and then I wonked them over the head a couple of times with a verbal hammer until there was enough tension in the air to peel the paint off the walls. Yeah, I should have said nothing at all.

Patrick

2011-12-02T03:33:00.000-08:00

Having finished his sublime King Raven trilogy, I was eager to explore more works of author Stephen Lawhead. The book that I ended up choosing happened to be the only one of his left at my local library, a fictionalized account of the early years of Saint Patrick, called Patrick - Son of Ireland. This turned out to be a satisfying choice.

The story takes place in the early part of the fifth century. It begins following the exploits of Succat, a British nobleman's son, who at the age of 16, spends his lazy days hanging out with friends drinking and carrying on. One day his town is overrun by a band of Irish raiders who pillage the land. Every able-bodied soul that is captured is taken away as a slave. Such is what happens to Succat and he ends up serving a cruel master as an apprentice to a sheep herder, a position he labors at for seven years. During this time he tries to escape twice and is then beaten to within a breath of his life. He also falls in love and ultimately joins up with a troop of sympathetic Druids. In these years nearly all of Succat's decisions are based on easing his suffering and seeking his means of escape. Yet below the surface he begins to develop a deeper connection for the land and its people. As the years pass in captivity, his faith and compassion begin to be stirred.

Ultimately, Succat makes good his escape and returns home, only to find that nothing of his former existence remains. Without any other options, he travels to Gaul to make a life for himself, and there he joins up with a mercenary troop to fight under Roman command as they protect the territory from the local "barbarians". Succat fights honorably but is witness to the brutal deaths of thousands of soldiers. Although a low-level fighter, he manages to distinguish himself as he saves a high-level Roman official and transports him back to Rome. Here Succat takes the official's daughter as his wife and has a child, only to lose them both to the plague in short order. Lost and confused, Succat drifts alone for a season before he feels some inner prompting, pulling him back to Ireland. He steels his resolve and returns to the lands where he was once held captive. From this point, the true legend of Saint Patrick begins as he spreads the seeds of Christianity throughout Ireland and then into Europe.

The Hammer Reveals

2011-12-01T03:14:00.000-08:00

I am a Christian, which means that I believe in God and I accept his son Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior. Sometimes, though, being a Christian feels to me wholly unnatural and a whole wagon-load of work.

Unnatural in the sense that the ways in which I am called to live my life as contained in the Bible are, oftentimes, completely contrary to my nature. I am sick and tired of seeing that so much of how I think and act and live is riddled with sin. After a certain time, shouldn't it be less work to live according to what I think I believe? Too often, it feels like my Christian life is more of an outer garment that I loosely wear instead of an integral part of my being.

Work in the sense that living a Christian life means that I am supposed to live for others, that it's not all about me. It is not just doing what I have always done and living as I have always lived. It is helping to reflect God's brilliant light through how I go about my daily existence. Whether it is giving my all at work each day, or holding open a door for folks at the grocery store, or sharing my faith, everything about being a Christian seems to require constant and consistent effort.

But sometimes the hammer reveals. They say that if you are multi-lingual, your true native tongue will be revealed by what you say when you strike your thumb with a hammer. In that same vein, when in my life I am hit by a powerful force, whether it be curse or joy, my heart is revealed as I immediately fall to my knees in prayer. In those moments, it is the most natural, easiest thing in the world.

Aches and Pains

2011-11-30T03:11:00.000-08:00

I exercise regularly in an effort to maintain my weight, to stay limber, to maintain a healthy heart, and to keep my immune system strong. I'm not a granola-munching kook about it, but I've kept at it dutifully and purposefully for more than 7 years. Because my aged knees move back and forth as if lined with butter laced with large shards of glass but minus the butter, I am kind of limited in the sorts of exercise that I can handle without causing severe internal bleeding or spontaneous combustion.

I have gotten comfortable going barefoot on my elliptical, but recently I messed up my foot a bit and I had to exercise for a week wearing sneakers. This slight change in my routine, curiously enough, left me so achy and sore you would have thought that I had just competed in a triathalon. This got me to thinking. Sometimes when we experience pain as a result of some new activity, it's a sign and warning that we are doing something that we shouldn't. Other times, these aches are an indication that we are stretching ourselves in a healthy manner that will lead to some positive benefit in the longer term. Of course, the pains are not necessarily limited to just physical afflictions in our bodies. They can also arise from dealing with awkward or uncomfortable feelings or situations. Ultimately, it all boils down to being wise enough to discern whether we embrace the pain and press forward, or whether we should turn and run from it.

Clusters

2011-11-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

I'm not good around people, even people that I know pretty well and would consider my friends. I am agoraphobic and deal on a daily basis with a spectrum of social anxiety issues. What comes naturally to many, is a constant struggle for me. One day I can go through a personal interaction and appear like I am doing fine. The very next day it can cause me to break out in a rash. What seems strange to some folks is that part of what I do for a living requires that I give public presentations at various conferences around the world on a regular basis. I've given talks in front of gathered crowds of many hundreds of folks and was perfectly comfortable. However, I can grow faint trying to make small talk with a co-worker around the coffee station.

Some think that this issue is no big deal. All I need to do is get more practice. Fake it until I learn a bit, and then it'll all be smooth sailing. I can assure you that my anxiety is not for lack of trying. There is something in my programming, how my brain is wired, that runs deep. It is more than questions like where I should put my hands, or where I should set my eyes, or how I should maintain my posture. The feelings of anxiety are not trifling or fleeting. The pain across my chest, the intense headaches, and the screams within my soul can be torturous. Sometimes I can be holding my own pretty well when something tips within me and I know that I have to get away immediately. I know that I have caused people pain with my actions and others to think that I am a real jerk with how I can treat them in some situations. The truth is, even though all of the issues are brought on by the presence of others, my actions and response have nothing to do with these people. I fall into survival mode and it's all about me.

Tear 'em Down

2011-11-28T03:02:00.000-08:00

Usage of some of the great names of human history has been twisted to the very antithesis of what made them famous. To the driver who gets hopelessly lost following an easy route, "Way to go Magellan!" To the one who makes a boneheaded mistake, "Deep thinking Einstein!" In this vein I have come up with another, "Tear 'em down Paul!" I guess that like "Cher" or "Madonna", our well-traveled explorer Magellan or our big-brained scientist Einstein, are quite well known. However, the name Paul is kind of a common one, so I should attempt to explain myself.

Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ, wrote a good fraction of the New Testament of the Bible. In his younger years he belonged to a group of ne'er-do-wells known as "The Pharisees". Paul's job was to harass the crap out of anyone who dared to call themself a Christian. In fact, his unquenchable passion was to root Christians out into the open and work to shame them, beat them down, and at times, to kill them. Then one day at the peak of his crusading, God confronted him and he changed teams. Boom, just like that.

A guy I work with garnered some major international attention several years back for his work. However, it was eventually found that his findings were wrong and his approach kind of naive. Where once he strutted around like a proud rooster taking every opportunity to seek credit and make his name known, he was forced to deal with his damaged reputation. Recently he has taken to beating down anyone who dares tread upon the smoldering embers on the ground that he had soiled. He unmercifully attacks those who make many of the same sorts of mistakes that he made. "Tear 'em down Paul!" Now you may think that I am sitting up on my lofty peak shaking my head at this poor soul. Quite the contrary, I recognize myself in his ways. It leads me to recognize that the measure that I use to pass judgment on others, will also be used on me.

Black Friday

2011-11-25T03:43:00.000-08:00

Black Friday is the name given to the Friday following Thanksgiving that officially marks the start of the holiday season.

There are several things that strike me as problematic with this definition.

This whole gaudy production has been foisted upon us by the retail establishment to try to trick us into spending money with as much unplanned frenzy as possible. The name of their game is to launch their shock and awe gimmicky ad compaigns in the most shameless manner possible to increase their profit margins to the limits.
Christmas is listed on the calendar as Dec. 25. It is a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Soon every group and their mother invented their own day for celebrating time off from work. Christmas became a taboo word replaced by the generic "holiday".
The notion of "creep" pervades this definition. Creep refers to the subtle push by retailers to extend the buying season further and further forward. Before the Thanksgiving fixin's are even covered with Saran wrap and stuck in the fridge, these folks are trying to draw us into their establishments.
I will not be told by some outside force that I should get into a "holiday spirit" based on their need to make money. I will let the Spirit move me to prepare for the ensuing celebration.

Black Friday? Indeed.

Thanksgiving 11

2011-11-24T03:24:00.000-08:00

It seems that about this same time every year, the holiday known as Thanksgiving rolls around. This year is no different. I wanted to say that I hope you all have a blessed day with great food and pleasant company. Even if you find yourself alone with a bag of chips and a T.V. dinner, I hope that you can still find some measure of joy to mark your day. Finally, I also want to thank my loyal cadre of readers and visitors for supporting me on this site.

Foot Steps

2011-11-23T03:22:00.000-08:00

Hans Christian Andersen's classic tale, "The Princess and the Pea", tells the story of how a minor annoyance greatly impacted the life of a young lady. When a tiny pea was placed beneath a stack of soft mattresses upon which she laid, she endured a most uncomfortable and restless night of sleep. Although it is easy to dismiss this premise as unlikely or far-fetched, you will not count me among that ilk. I know all too well how something so small can drastically alter one's quality of life. Let me tell you the tale ...

Just a week or so ago I noticed a bit of a dull pain in my left foot. I kind of dismissed it as I had stuff to do and did not want to waste energy on such a small thing. Several days later I noticed that I was favoring my right leg ever so slightly as I walked. Upon acknowledging this fact, I realized that there was now an acute throbbing in my left big toe. After a long day on my feet at work, I was happy to get home and sit on the couch. Taking my shoes and socks off, I found that the outside of my toe had taken on a deep purplish hue and made me wince even if I touched it lightly. The next day I made an appointment to see the podiatrist. They set me up with an appointment about ten days later. I figured that I could get through that well and good. I mean, I proclaimed that a single toe had no right to be so demanding, and that would be that.

Fast forward through a few days and the pain had spread up through my calves, my knees, my quads, and my hips as I altered my normal gait to compensate for my toe. Monday morning I found that I could no longer bear up, and with still a full week before my scheduled appointment, I called the doctor's office to see if they could fit me in earlier. They found a slot for me yesterday and I had to endure a small surgery involving several long needles, a very sharp knife, and a level of pain that would have dropped a mature musk ox. What a lot of drama for a such a small toe. Oh, and don't call me princess.

Immanuel's Veins

2011-11-22T03:27:00.000-08:00

Vampires are one of the latest fads in books and movies, both as antagonists and protagonists. Creatures in one moment beautiful, worldly, and sophisticated, and in the next, blood-thristy, brutal, and deadly. If you are looking for a good vampire story, then perhaps you might consider Ted Dekker's Immanuel's Veins. This story takes place in 18th century Moldavia, just a stones throw over the Carpathian Mountains from Transylvania. The Russian empress Catherine the Great has sent Toma Nicolescu, one of her most trusted warriors, to protect a family of local nobility, Kesia Cantemir and her two beautiful daughters Natasha and Lucine. Catherine views the two unwed daughters as valuable political cards. If appropriate royal suitors can be found for this Russian-controlled land, then alliances can be forged and her empire strengthened.

Natasha has embraced her mother's passions for life, food, wine, and a different bed every night. Lucine is much more careful where she lays her affections. Yet, she and Toma develop an undeniable spark almost instantly. Toma's defense of the Cantemir's, and especially Lucine, from a strangely dark and aggressive group of Russians from a neighboring castle, seems to go beyond duty. Yet Natasha is intrigued by these people and is pulled under their spell and control. She becomes drunk with their passion, spirits, and ways. Lucine too becomes confused and ensnared in this web, and follows Natasha to the Russian castle and is seduced by the patriarch Vlad Van Valerik. She gets pulled in before she fully understands the great peril that she has placed herself in. The heart embraces what it should flee.

When Toma finds out the truth of who these Russians are from an otherworldly friar, he sets out to rescue his beloved Lucine and face-off against the half-breed Vlad and his coven. Yet while his skills as a warrior are well-honed in conventional combat, he faces this showdown armed with nothing more than a handful of wooden stakes, a book, a crucifix, and an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. Dekker takes his time laying out each part of the narrative and painting the mood. His love scenes are powerfully written and really help you understand the vampire lure and the power in their blood. A very nice effort and a thoroughly enjoyable tale.

Background Noise

2011-11-21T03:23:00.000-08:00

I once knew a man who stood out from the others that he worked with. The difference was marked not by positives, but rather by negatives. He was withdrawn, disconnected, soft spoken, and joyless. This manner was all that I knew of him. Yet in talking to some of the others, he was not always this way. In fact, he once was quite talkative, self-assured, outgoing, and quick with a joke or a good-natured barb. Something inside of him had broken and taken him miles and miles from what he used to be. If you observed him just for a moment as he went about his work, you likely would conclude that there was something off about him.

After working around him for several years, I finally came to learn a bit about the root cause of the darkness that had enshrouded his life. It all traced back to a single instant in time. At that point he was in his early 20s, newly married, and actively at the helm of his life, charting it in directions he had foreseen since he entered high school. He had been in the military a few years and had a long and successful career ahead of him. Already he had shown enough talent to be placed in a supervisory role in aviation mechanics, and he was about to receive another recommendation for promotion and transfer to the next level. Then in an uncharacteristically careless moment, he was sloppy with the maintenance records on one of the Cobras in for servicing. An entire training crew was lost that day. In a heartbeat the colors of his world flickered out into gray. He was discharged from the service, and as his career was ripped out of his possession, he fell headlong into apathy and depression. In short order he drove his bride away.

One day I came to work and learned that he had abruptly quit and taken a new job back with some old friends up north. I pray that he found some healing up there and a spark that could grow into flame. I've known all too well that place of apathy and depression that life can spit you into at times. One moment you are alive, and in the next, everything that you have banked on has been violently ripped out of your possesssion. Moments where notions of checking out are more than just background noise.

Bookmark

2011-11-18T03:03:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a gift is assembled or purchased in haste. A quick trip to the local big-box store or a last minute run into the nearby card shop on the way to some occasion. Phew, thank goodness that is over with. No thought. No emotion. No heart.

Sometimes a gift is dreamed up in grand jestures, racing thoughts, and bubbly emotion. In times like this giving can be so much more powerful and satisfying than receiving. Here the heart overflows its normal bounds.

Recently my daughter gave me a wonderful treasure that fully fit into this latter category. A bookmark that she made and decorated herself. The bookmark acknowledges my love of reading. The leaves and beads were chosen in green as it is my favorite color. The heart, because she loves me. This, my friends, is the good stuff.

Waiting on a Friend

2011-11-17T03:07:00.000-08:00

I received a lunch invitation from a friend of mine some time ago. I quickly acknowledged his request and replied that it sounded like a good idea. Yet the weeks have gone by and the calendar page has turned a couple of times. Why? Could it be that loneliness is more secure than relationship?

A friend of mine who I was really enjoying getting to know, suddenly moved away. We both noted that this was goodbye and not farewell or see you soon. Why? Are friendships so disposable?

A relationship with a trusted mentor soured somehow due to a conflict I had with someone else in our circle. I had come to believe that our time together was valuable for both of us. Yet six months have gone by without contact. Is brotherhood such easily oxidized metal?
But I need someone I can cry to
I need someone to protect
Making love and breaking hearts
It is a game for youth
But I'm not waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend

Adam

2011-11-16T03:05:00.000-08:00

I have just finished reading Ted Dekker's 2008 Thriller Adam. The story is about an extremely cunning serial killer dubbed Eve who murders his victims by infecting them with a form of meningitis. His ritual is to kill a young woman every month on the new moon. Thus far he has taken 16 lives. The lead FBI profiler on the case, David Clark, much like a method actor, infuses every bit of himself into trying to develop the mind of the killer. This skill makes him very successful in his work, but led his wife Heather to divorce him. New to the case is FBI pathologist Lori Ames, who meshes very well with David both personally and professionally. Their bond is strengthened when David gets close to Eve and takes a bullet to the head. Though clinically dead for nearly an hour, Lori brings him back to life. However, David has lost all memories of his face-to-face encounter with Eve.

A notably weak aspect of this story concerns the notion of near death experiences (NDEs). Lori and David come up with the notion that if David can be killed clinically, his lost memories from his first death can be reawakened. So they go through this bit of hocum, not just once, but twice. Lori injects David with some stuff to kill him, gives him time to explore his mind in his NDE state, and then revives him in the nick of time. The chase and encounter with the serial killer was really kind of standard fare for Dekker, wherein he relied on vehicles that he has used before. This time there was a bit of a twist involving demonic possession and who the character of Lori really was. However, what elevated this work to a higher plain was the interspersing of a nine-part article from a (fictitious) magazine that provided the back story of the serial killer and his tragic life. It was written with such feeling and realism that it really helped you understand the mind of the antagonist (and I should add that I thought this was a real set of articles until I got further into the book). This amounted to a novel bit of inspiration that was my favorite aspect of this work.

Excuses Excuses

2011-11-15T03:30:00.000-08:00

As I quickly peruse the news wire each morning, I sometimes stumble across zany, wacky stories, that are really just tangents to any measure of "real" news. However, they can pull me in and make me laugh or cry. Sometimes they can achieve both feats simultaneously. Such was the case with a story focussed on amusing ... ahem ... excuses that workers have given to their bosses about why they were not be able to make it into work.

My 12-year-old daughter stole my car and I have no other way to work.
I was in line at a coffee shop when a truck carrying flour backed up and dumped the flour into my convertible.
A deer bit me.
I got a cold from a puppy.
My child stuck a mint up my nose and I have to go to the ER to remove it.
I hurt my back chasing a beaver.
I have a headache after going to too many garage sales.
My brother-in-law was kidnapped by a drug cartel while in Mexico.
I drank anti-freeze by mistake and had to go to the hospital.
I was at a bowling alley and a bucket filled with water crashed through the ceiling and hit me on the head.

Some of these are authentic reasons to be sure. I would guess that if you hovered around anyone for any significant length of time, they would do something coo-coo that would cause them to have to miss work. Others are clearly a clever way of saying "Sorry, I am out of vacation days and have no sick days left, and I really just feel like playing hookey today."

Counterculture

2011-11-14T03:10:00.000-08:00

There was a time where something that I was heavily involved in was suddenly taken away from me. It was many years ago and now I can't even distinctly remember what the activity was. I just know that it was something that people in my circle kind of knew me for. A buddy of mine sat with me as I licked my wounds and let the dust settle. He then remarked, "Well now, part of the counterculture that defined you is no more." I thought his observation amusing and the notion that something external helps to define me to others kind of sensitized me to this kind of thinking.

So, the grand question of the day is, what are you involved in that serves to define you to the outside world? It is worth pondering a bit. Is the activity honorable? Scandalous? Pointless? Inane? It is this latter category that I will touch on today. I go way back to my time spent as an undergraduate in college. I went to a university located in upstate New York. The summers there were reasonably mild and pleasant, but seemed to last for only about 2 weeks. The rest of the time, the land was covered with glaciers for as far as the eye could see. The average temperatures hovered about 50 degrees below absolute zero. Furthermore, it was always snowing and windy and miserable. Yet there was this guy that I saw regularly on campus who wore corduroy "short shorts" all throughout the year. One day I had a conversation with this guy (as he knew a friend of mine) and I asked him about his choice of apparel. He told me that the whole experience was actually pretty miserable, but he dressed like that because he had actually gained some level of notoriety and he liked the attention. (Let's pause now and let this sink in a bit.)

I think the message here is excruciatingly clear. Be careful what you let define you or what you chose to let define you. Make smart, reasoned, and intentional choices or you could end up like that wackadoodle in his short shorts.

Tuck

2011-11-11T03:06:00.000-08:00

The final volume in the King Raven trilogy by Stephen Lawhead, Tuck, ensues on the very next accelerated heartbeat from whence Scarlet ended. This story focuses more on the character and point of view of the loyal, humble, brave, and godly Friar Athelfrith (aka Tuck). In this portion of the tale, the rightful king to Elfael, Lord Bran ap Brychan (aka Robin Hood, Rhi Bran y Hud, King Raven, or Bran), is continuing to lead his small band of Welsh outlaws in missions designed to reclaim his kingdom from the Norman ne-er-do-wells who unrightfully have been awarded his land by King William of England. Time after time, Bran and his group use their cunning and their mastery with the deadly longbow to outwit and outflank their pursuers. After Bran exposed a plot to King William regarding a serious threat to his crown, the king had promised him justice. However, he went back on his word and installed the wicked Abbot Hugo as regent of Elfael to gain favor with the church.

Ultimately, Bran realizes that his band is too small to take back and maintain control of his lands without raising military support from the other Welsh kings in and around Elfael. Yet everything he tries seems to come to naught. His requests are turned down flatly. When Bran and his forces finally take back control of Elfael from Abbot Hugo and his relatively small number of troops, King William calls all his barons to bring their armies of knights, men-at-arms, and foot soldiers to put the uprising down. He raises an army of more than 1000 professional soldiers aimed to quick quash Bran and his band of a few dozen locals. Yet Bran's group have fully adapted to forest warfare, and easily slaughter several hundred of King William's warriors who are only trained in open-field warfare with the sword. However, after some initial set-backs, they adapt their strategies and start to make progress in putting down the uprising. Yet before the final attack trumpets sound, help from the other Welsh kings and one powerful Norman baron arrives and swear loyalty to Bran. Tuck takes advantage of a chance meeting with King William to convince him that the costs of battle far outweigh the costs of peace. This leads to a negotiation of peace and a full settlement of the conflict. Bran's kingdom is restored and the legend of Robin Hood grows. An absolutely top-shelf series to which I give my highest recommendation.

Roid Rage

2011-11-10T03:09:00.000-08:00

It's a bit embarrassing to admit this, but I have been battling with hemorrhoids for several years. I think most folks, even if they have never suffered from this condition, at least have some understanding that this is an unfortunate buttockal issue. I suspect that you would be more comfortable if this topic remained sequestered in hushed conversations between a patient and their doctor. Yet here I am. Truth be told, there are some days where the associated pain becomes quite unspeakable. Imagine if a flaming Canadian weasel, oozing spicy picante sauce from its pores commenced to nipping at your backdoor, and you can start to understand my ... errr ... discomfort.

The other day I thought to do a bit of online research about effective treatments for my ailment. I came across the website from a well-respected treatment center that offered the following mirthful and inane advice. They said that an easing of symptomology can be affected by soaking one's nether regions in epsom salts for 15 minute-long sessions 4 or 5 times a day. They recommend that you sit in the treated water, in a comfortable position, and that you may even recline if you so wish. I don't know about you, but I have to go to a place called "work" every day. Where am I to find the space and privacy required to bathe my posterior lobe 4 or 5 times a day?

Oh, and in case you are interested, the doctors who put together this treatment scheme stated that the proper mixture is to add 1 cup of epsom salts for every six inches of water. This is as recommended by the Epsom Salt Council. This made me wonder if a seat on this council was an appointed or elected position? Heck, I've got plenty of time to consider such dalliances as I soak in my personal dippin' tub. Good thing they have Wifi in the break room here at work.

Speaking of Death

2011-11-09T03:07:00.000-08:00

Today's post centers on a topic that I dread dwelling on. Hovering anear this shadow leads me to places that take a right toll on my psyche. It can turn a bright air into a gloomy cloud and steal away a smile in an instant. It is about death. A process and an instant that we will, each of us, inevitably face one day. I have always hastened away from any whisper or prodding that makes me think about or face my own mortality, but recently I overheard a conversation that I just couldn't dismiss or wave away.

A lady at work had been struggling for more than a year helping to care for her ailing mother. She gave all that she could to support her and tend to her. Yet the long hours each day spent at her mother's bedside and tending to her mother's affairs, created an anxiety and a continual disturbance within her own family. She was absent both in body and in her thoughts. As days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became a year, her reserves of strength and cheer had been fully depleted.

It was at this point that her mother made the decision to let go. It was a decision not made in defeat or in weakness, but in victory and strength. Significant time and energy were spent in thought and prayer and coming to terms with all that this would bring to bear before giving it voice. This decision was the kernel of the conversation that I perchance had happened upon that planted this unnerving seed within me. Then within just a few short days after her doctors had ceased the treatments, she passed on. The end was announced with a small obituary posted on the bulletin board. Although I was not there and do not know anything about the circumstances, somehow I sense that this death was met with peace, acceptance, relief, love, and understanding on all fronts. Yet I can't help lingering on the brave decision that set this end in motion.

Insights on Revelation

2011-11-08T03:06:00.000-08:00

Over the past 8 months or so, I have been systematically working my way through Charles Swindoll's New Testament Insights series. In these volumes, Swindoll takes us book by book through the New Testament and provides his wisdom and practical interpretation of the word of God. Now I have just finished his most recent volume, Insights on Revelation. Revelation represents the final book of the New Testament, final in the sense that it appears sequentially as the last book of the Bible and final in the sense that it is believed to have been written last, circa AD 95, likely by the apostle John.

Quite a few years ago, I worked through Revelation from beginning to end. My lingering memory from that self-guided tour was that it read like the ramblings of a hippy on an acid trip. If you have ever been through it, you know just how utterly bizzare the language is. But now, in reading this detailed study with an experienced guide stepping me through verse by verse, I came away with much more understanding of God's plan for the end times during what is referred to as the Apocalypse.

The central purpose of Revelation is to provide a road map and fair warning of how God will bring the believers to His heaven and judge the unrepentant. The period of judgment and destruction of all opposing God, both human and spiritual beings, will be finite but severe beyond imagination. The last part of John's prophetic narrative describes the final battle between the armies of light and the forces of darkness. It describes God's ultimate victory and eternal kingdom.

The book of Revelations includes more than 300 references to 24 other books of the Bible as it connects pieces of prophesy mentioned or alluded to in other places. This writing makes heavy use of symbolism, visions, and all sorts of peculiar imagery. One thing that is clear is that the vision of the future that John witnessed most certainly overwhelmed him and the language that he used is a reflection of trying to wrap words around the essentially indescribable.

It is interesting that the prologue of Revelation directly states that those who read these words will be blessed. Yet while I think that the big picture of the end time is reasonably clear, the details and their interpretation are murky and mysterious. I would love to better understand why all the theatrics and pagentry are necessary. They must serve some important purpose. Why doesn't God just snap his fingers at the appropriate time and be done with it? So, while I have a much better and deeper understanding of the prophesies of the end times and the Apocalypse, I seem to have ended up with a much longer list of questions and uncertainties than I had when I began my study.

Grind My Gears 25

2011-11-07T03:04:00.000-08:00

"Just as sunflowers turn their heads to catch every sunbeam, so too have we discovered a simple way to get more from our sun."

That's all we need, another Norman Rockwell type of feel-good wisdom nugget to try to convince us that daylight savings is something that we all need to accept and embrace. You know what I say? I say that anyone who supports the notion of daylight savings is a bed-wetter. Furthermore, they really grind my gears. I mean, who says that the agricultural community with their soybeans and free government cheese has any right to monkey with the very fabric of time? Furthermore, I tend to think that Benjamin Franklin, who first proposed this whole bale of nonsense in the first place, had more than a few screws loose when he frolicked about in his knickerbockers flying a metal kite in a lightning storm. All of this tomfoolery causes me to have to run around my house twice every year adjusting literally dozens of clocks and alarms and displays. In this moment I harken back (and yes that is a valid expression) on the time I used to live in a portion of Indiana that revolted and said no to using any form of time pieces. Although Hoosiers are known anarchists with all of their corn and basketballs and rubber industries, they had this one right.

Trouble with Blogging

2011-11-04T03:05:00.000-07:00

Each day I sit down at this cursed keyboard and it mocks me with its sing-song refrain, "What are you going to come up with today?" Try as I might to channel a sliver of Maya Angelou, what spills out is more like:

... The grand stone edifice fell across the alabaster mountains as the inky blackness dissipated into the aether ...

Gack! Truly mindless hackneyed pap that rots the brain. So, I try to conjure the rapturous mastery of the bard, William Shakespeare, and what oozes up from the mire is:

... The callow shaver approached his forebearer petitioning him for acumen and some perspicacity of his antiquities ...

Really? Complete and total dreck!

Now, just when I am at the end of myself, trying to come up with something pithy to say, with a profound moral and a bit of wit, striving to pull a crumb out of my flacid and barren mind, along comes a request to write more, a guest post for someone else. You see, that's the trouble with blogging, it insists upon itself. But, as Abraham Lincoln, our nation's first president, said on this very subject, "That grinch even took their last can of Who hash!". Now I'm not sure what that has to do with anything, but truer words were never uttered regarding the tumbleweeds skittering through my mental cupboards. The point is, I still think, somehow, I have pulled an ace out of my ... err ... "sleeve" with this one, I have. A blog with no point, very little humor, and no taste. Should fit in quite well here I believe.

Note: This post was written as a guest post for my online friend Ricky Anderson. His site is a great place for a laugh or two and some perspective.

Scarlet

2011-11-03T03:04:00.000-07:00

The second book in Stephen Lawhead's King Raven Trilogy is entitled Scarlet and picks up just after Hood ends off. This book was written from a different point of view than Hood, in that the narrative was mostly delivered by a captured member of the band of Rhi Bran y Hud (i.e. Robin Hood). A desperate and ill-fated attempt to kidnap the wicked sheriff of the forest, not borne out of cunning and planning, but out of rage and bravado, led to the capture and judgment of one Will Scarlet. Will sits condemned in a cramped cell, telling his story to a local monk. The monk is controlled by the evil and power hungry Abbot Hugo, who is seeking information that could lead to the demise of King Raven and his entire lot of outlaws.

Will represents one of the newest members of Hood's band of forest dwellers. At one time an important member of a small Welsh holding, he was suddenly forced out by the overthrow of his king due to the politics and greed prevalent within medieval Britain. Scarlet then searches out the growing legend of King Raven and his justice-seeking troop. His perspective is interesting and helps to develop the man out the legend that has become Hood. Along the way we are treated to a love story and to a desperate plot by Hood to expose the traiterous plotting of several powerful barons working to overthrow the king using the influence of the catholic church, all in his attempt to retake control of the kingdom taken from his family. A wonderful second entry in this saga. Now, onto the final book in the series, Tuck.

Book Exchange

2011-11-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

I have read a lot of books over the past five years or so. Certainly most of them have given me at least some modicum of pleasure in the form of insight gleaned, gained wisdom, a vicarious adventure, or the appreciation of a skilled artist demonstrating their craft. I have taken advantage of my local library, located just a few blocks from my house, and checked out a fair number of tomes. However, I have also purchased a goodly number of books in this same span. I have taken no small measure of pride when incorporating the finished books into my personal library and then, over time, watching the stacks grow and fill the shelves in my bookcases.

But you know what is curious? There are very few books that I own that I have read more than once. I wonder then what the allure is that these bindings hold over me. For it seems that if those spines are not stressed and those leafs aren't rifled through from time to time, I have taken a bit of gold and buried it. Surely those volumes are more than just a decoration in my personal repository.(?)

At work recently, someone had the idea to set up a book exchange. Basically it is a bookcase filled with used books. The supposition is that if you want to take a book, the only price is that you replace it with another book. Thus the collection takes a different shape from week to week. The other afternoon, I passed by the display and paused. I ran my finger along the rows and up and down the jackets. These stories, passed one by one from hand to hand, really can make a wonderful treasure for all who stumble across them. In fact, they gain their greatest worth when they are shared.

Winter Marches On

2011-11-01T03:09:00.000-07:00

Dreams have frozen,
Crystal in the morning
Birthtime rose,
A thorn for coronation

The unwelcome visitor creeps up on me each year like a thief. Slipping in unnoticed with his frigid touch. What confounds my mind is that he always catches me unawares, as if it were the first time. One day I come home from work and have a nice period to read and unwind outside on the porch. I pause every once and again to look out over my yard and breath deep the sunlight, the colors, and the warm, gentle breeze. Then it seems the very next day I arrive home in twilight. The once soft and formless trees, starkly mock at me with sharp and angular features in muted gray tones. The notion that the cold season has pushed out the warm, coupled with the knowledge that it will be a stretch before Aestas comes round to hold court on her emerald throne, leaves me melancholy. The sweet, flowing sap of life suddenly ceases to course through my veins. My attitude turns sour in direct proportion to the available light. Windows that used to reveal a scenic vista late into the evening, now display only harsh and glossy black holes that no fabric can mask. An unstoppable force that can be survived only through holing up into a sort of hibernation ... and the winter marches on.

Hood

2011-10-31T03:00:00.000-07:00

I have just finished reading what I have rated as my first 5-star novel of the year. A tale so finely crafted, so vivid in each and every detail, that I was moved in mind and spirit to another place and time in a way that I have rarely experienced. Certainly this was a work on a different plane, penned by a seasoned craftsman well honed in his skills. But first, a related back story is needed for you to appreciate how I found this treasure.

Several weeks ago I posted a blog entitled "More Than Gruel?", where I pondered aloud whether I was getting the most out of the novels that I read. Was I spending my time with crude and middling fare when there was a much more delicious feast out there? As I response to this post, a reader that I do not personally know (who goes by the mysterious moniker Ricky Anderson), suggested that I look into works by english author Stephen Lawhead. This lead me to my local library and a slew of books from which to choose. After a few moments of thought, I selected three books that are part of his so-called "King Raven" trilogy. The first book is entitled Hood.

Hood represents a re-telling of the legend of Robin Hood, set in the English and Welsh countrysides circa 1100 A.D. The story has as its backdrop the infighting and self-preservation of the royals of medieval Britain. The compelling antagonist is the prince of a small holding whose land has been taken away by a backroom deal. The author has undertaken detailed research with regard to his choice of setting and the descriptions of the characters and how they lived. His choice of the setting itself was not capricious, but one based on his following the legends of this vagabond back through the ages. Certainly though this portrayal is a mixture of legend, fact, and fiction. It is told in a carefully crafted and layered style so that the narrative and actions of the characters are fully developed and contained within the context of each scene and each part of the tale. Now, onto the second novel in the series, Scarlet.

Tech Savvy

2011-10-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

I am someone who spends a great deal of his day working on a computer. Yet I am not as tech-savvy as I would like to be or as hip and "with it" with regard to these machines as you might think given what I do for a living. You know who I blame for this? Well, my woes are actually the fault of two causes.

1). The IT Department where I work. I mean, whenever I run into troubles with networking or hardware or software, these oompa-loompas come rushing to my aid the second that they sense I am stuck or whenever they find me violently weeping under my desk. I mean, how am I ever going to learn anything about these contraptions and how they operate if some little orange man rushes to my rescue the second that the soup gets a bit thick?

2). Inertia. Inertia is a great word. Folks likely have heard this term and, moreover, can probably use it effectively in a sentence. ("My, your inertia gleams in the moonlight darling.") But, just as likely, most folks couldn't define this word if I threatened them with a sock packed with cold butter. Inertia is the tendency of an object in motion to stay in motion unless acted on by an external force, or in my case, the tendency of an object at rest to remain at rest, unless said external force starts poking at things that it shouldn't. In this definition, I am the object at rest, or better yet, I am the one who doesn't know anything whatsoever about the computers that he is using and yelling at. Likely I will remain in this state until something changes.

Maybe the answer is that I need someone from the IT Department not to fix or solve my computer problems when they arise, but to threaten me or poke me with a stick until I learn how to solve my own issues.

Plinko

2011-10-27T03:06:00.000-07:00

I came to know the game called "plinko" from watching The Price is Right as a kid. The plinko game board is flat with a regular pattern of pegs sticking out from its surface and bumpers along the side edges. A player stands at the top of the board and places a disk at the first row of pegs and lets it fall down under gravity. The disk then bounces and rebounds and careens off the pegs, moving willy-nilly, this way and that way, ever downward toward the bottom of the board. At that point the disk falls into one of a number of slots labeled with specific prizes.

The other day I heard someone use the term plinko and it gave me pause. I thought about the game and how that disk bounces around in a beguiling pattern. Just when you think you can make an accurate guess as to which slot it will end up in, it takes a couple of bounces in the opposite direction. I sometimes feel like my life is a game of plinko. It seems that so much of it is random and out of my control. If you are like me, someone who tries to stay in control of all their life variables as much as possible, then this erratic bouncing of life's prize disk is infuriating and gives rise to untold levels of anxiety and worry. Furthermore, even though my lifestyle is fairly lavish by any worldly definition, there are moments where I live on edge with the perilous, uneasy sense that I am just a couple of unexpectedly bad bounces away from my disk landing in the "busted" slot.

The Bride Collector

2011-10-26T03:35:00.000-07:00

Imagine the beauty that would overwhelm our souls if we could see each other in the same light in which God views us ...

I have just finished the thriller The Bride Collector by Ted Dekker. This novel was written on several different levels. On the surface it is the story of a psychotic killer who is systematically abducting women and brutally killing them, all the while he is being pursued by a relentless FBI agent. On another level it follows a touching love story between the FBI agent and a young lady who provides assistance. If the story remained confined to these two threads, it would be a fairly generic story told time and again by countless authors. However, this tale, at its core, latches onto something more beautiful and profound.

The bride collector is the label given by the FBI to the mass murderer. This man, Quinton Gauld, is not killing women for sport or with evil intent in his mind. He believes that he has been charged by God to deliver the most beautiful women alive to be His brides. In order to purify them to be in God's presence, he must drain them of their blood and their humanity. He believes that he is operating solely out of love and devotion. However, in his mind, he somehow knows that something in his thinking and logic is amiss, that he is a sinner. In his conflict, he leaves a note with one of the brides. This note leads the FBI to an establishment housing a number of patients with mental disorders but who are exceptionally bright. One of the patients is a young woman named Paradise. Paradise is gifted with visions of the past and an acute ability to understand people, but she is psychotic and highly agoraphobic. Tentatively, she begins to work through her personal limitations and issues with the lead FBI agent on the case, Brad Raines. Slowly, however, feelings of trust and a bond of love begin to develop.

Yet how can there be true love between a handsome, talented, and outgoing agent and a homely, introverted, disconnected woman? Some might think that this notion is unrealistic or far-fetched. However, when both can see past the veneer of humanity, see past the labels, see past the baggage of the years that cloud vision, they ultimately can see into the heart and mind.

900? ... 900!

2011-10-25T03:27:00.000-07:00

Today is a day of celebration on this site. Please don a conical party-type hat and serve yourself a piece of virtual cake (don't worry, it has no calories or fat grams and is loaded with riboflavinoids). There is something special about the number 900. A few that flock to the top of my frothy mind include: 900 is the number of blog posts that I have posted to this site.
Of the integers from 1 to 10, 900 is evenly divisible by all but 7 and 8.
Over the course of my lifetime, I have averaged writing roughly 1 post every 18 days.
State route 900 in Washington (aka the "Evergreen State") extends 16.20 miles from Tukwila to Issaquah.
A 900 in skateboarding is an aerial spin maneuver with 2.5 rotations.
The year 900 was a leap year and marked the beginning of the postclassic period in Mesoamerica.
The Romans represented the number 900 as CM
The number 900 is used twice in the Bible.
The Cabal distinguishes 900 different species of death.
Thanks once again to my loyal cadre of regular visitors and commenters. You are much appreciated. See you on the road to a cool G.

What's in a Name?

2011-10-24T03:03:00.000-07:00

In William Shakespeare's classic Romeo and Juliet, Juliet pondered aloud, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." But I'm afraid that she got it wrong. If that which we call a rose was actually called, "steaming dung", I don't think that they would be such a big hit as an anniversary gift.

But this germ of a thought, somehow caused me to be on the lookout for business names that are so inappropriate that I can't help but think that they must affect profit margins. Over the course of just a few days driving around my local community, I had more than enough fodder for a decent size blog post. Here is what I found:

Dressbarn (women's fashions) - that's right, let's make extremely image conscious women feel like beasts of burden.
The Revolt (local restaurant) - "Honey, how was your supper?" ... "I think that it is staging a revolt in my lower intestines!"
Hairphenalia (women's hair salon) - let's offend the literati with home-grown made up gibberish for a name!
BJs Wholesale (bulk warehouse) - O.K., I'm not in high school anymore, but this still causes me to giggle like a giddy school girl.
Wings 'n Things (local restaurant) - I firmly believe that anybody who is not a cretin would refuse to patronize any establishment that purposefully has a " 'n " in their name, just on general principles.

So, what places in your neighborhood do you think have naming issues?

A-maize-ing

2011-10-21T03:18:00.000-07:00

You might know that it is referred to by the American Indians as maize. But to you and me it is good ol' corn. Popped, boiled, baked, and microwaved. Slathered in butter and sprinkled with salt. Tasty and delicious. However, for a Massachusetts family of four, corn has come to represent the mark of the beast. What started as an afternoon of good, clean, family fun quickly turned into pure frozen terror.

I came across this story from a number of different news outlets the other morning. A family with two regulation size younglings, paid for the opportunity to wander through a corn maze in the happening town of Danvers (the "mile-behind city"). After a few minutes they got disoriented and lost their way and could not seem to make any progress toward locating an exit. They were obviously lost amongst the niblets for a long while, because closing time rolled around and the owners closed up the shop and headed off for a nightcap at Skeeter's watering hole. Then inky blackness started to close in on the once plucky group of corn explorers. As the night wrapped itself around them, they began to scream in utter panic. I believe that they even considered cannibalizing the youngest child should the Zagnut bars in their fanny packs run out or if they were feeling a bit peckish.

Apparently they forgot they could walk through the corn in a straight line back toward the parking area. They also seemed to forget that the corn field was only about an acre in size. Oh, and they forgot that all of them, including baby Unser Herman, were loaded with enough electronic communication gizmos and GPS devices to stage a Navy Seal mission. Ultimately, the end game of this episode was captured on a 911 emergency call. The dispatcher initially thought the whole thing was a poorly played joke, but as his laughter quelled, he finally understood that this group of "average" folks (apparently with roots in West Virginia) tweren't fooling. He then made an off-handed comment about the need to "thin the herd" before finally sending over new recruit, Deputy Barney Pimpleface, to lead them to safety. Oh, for corn sake!

Blink of an Eye

2011-10-20T03:04:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that I have been on a tear through the collection of Ted Dekker books at my local library. I just finished his 2007 thriller Blink of an Eye (adapted from his 2002 novel Blink). The story takes place in two worlds with two very different protagonists. One world is the western United States where we find 26 year old Seth Border. Seth, who grew up with an abusive father, is attending Berkeley. He has an IQ off the charts and has grown bored with the pointless games of sparring with overmatched and boorish professors who fear his intellect. He is looking for purpose and thinking more and more of finding adventure. The other world is Saudi Arabia where we find Miriam, a royal princess. Her world is very typical of the well-to-do elite, but she is a woman who is expected to conform to the customs of her people. When the forced marriage of one of her teenage friends goes awry, it marks an abrupt end to her fairy tale upbringing.

The framework of the story is around the role that Miriam was unwittingly bred to play in a planned coup attempt by a royal prince and Miriam's father. Her father is a powerful sheik who controls a sect whose support can sway the balance of power in the nation toward a new king. However, when Miriam is told that she is to marry the royal prince's son in 3 days time, she flees for the sanctuary of the U.S.. Here she meets up with Seth, who for reasons not initially understood, has started to show signs of clairvoyance. This new ability, coupled with his brilliance and pragmatism, makes for a captivating storyline as Seth and Miriam evade the U.S. authorities, the Saudi intelligence, and the son of the royal prince and his nasties.

The story ends up back in Saudi Arabia, where Seth and Miriam outwit all of the forces against them and finally break free of the ties that have bound each of them. Along the way, we gain a glimpse into how two very different lives can find love, can impact the world for the better, and learn some truth about the God of the universe when they don't expect it. A very enjoyable read.

Crotchety Old Man

2011-10-19T03:02:00.000-07:00

Several times I can recall where I have been talking ugly about someone when they were within the sound of my voice and I didn't know about their presence until later. One of those times was when I was an undergraduate at college. I was ripping on one of my professors, who, unbeknownst to me, was sitting on the other side of a room divider just 5 ft away. It only takes a few of these painful and embarrassing occurrences for one to learn to watch their tongue. However, given how I can sometimes behave, I guess that these experiences were not quite painful enough for me to stop the practice altogether, just to be more mindful of where I vent and spew. This just goes to show that, somehow, even after all of the years I have been kicking around on this rock, I am still very much a work in progress.

To wit, I was doing some gardening in my front yard the other day. I happened to be very near the street when the kids from the house directly across from mine came out into their front yard to play. This large, extended family has recently moved in and they spend a lot of time playing in their driveway. As kids tend to do, their play involved lots of screaming and yelling and hijinks. As my peaceful and serene environs quickly vanished, I found myself grumbling about the dang kids. I remember wishing that they would just go away. It was at this moment that one of the children, a small girl who couldn't have been much more than 5 or 6 years old, wandered up to the edge of her yard. She called out to me, "I like your yard very much, you do a good job of making it look nice." With that she wandered away to join the festivities with her family. I just sat there for a few moments feeling like a terrible neighbor. A grumbling, crotchety old man. However, I think that this experience has permanently changed how I view these kids, and that is a mark of progress.

Adventures in Store

2011-10-18T03:12:00.000-07:00

Although I take pride in how my daughter is growing up and maturing, and love the person she is and is becoming, it is such an overwhelming emotional struggle for me. The baby, the toddler, the pre-schooler, the grade and middle schooler, and now the teenager. With each season in her life I have struggled to make adjustments and to find a healthy equilibrium. It seems that just as I start to find my way, the rules suddenly change. She is growing more and more independent with each passing day, and I have come to really miss the younger versions of my daughter, even as I love and fully embrace the young woman that she is evolving into.

The other day I needed to reduce the clutter in my daughter's bedroom. Her bookshelves had become overfilled and I wanted to pack up the books from her childhood that she had long since outgrown. A job that should have taken 30 minutes ended up taking a full evening as each book that I picked up overwhelmed me with memories:

Stories I remember reading to her when she was sick and she wanted to be nowhere else than snuggled against my shoulder.
Pages we strolled through over and over again because she loved the pictures.
Tales that I used to read to her that she ultimately read to me after a time.
Stories we read together when my life had broken apart that brought us a measure of comfort.
Series that we followed eagerly with each and every volume released.
Childhood adventures that pulled us into discussions of future dreams and possibilities.

There were even several books that I had bought for her that she outgrew before we got around to reading them. Now all are packed away in boxes not to see the light of day again for some time. I pray someday that they are shared again between a parent and a child. There is so much opportunity contained in those pages. Maybe my daughter might even share them with her family one day.

Right This Way

2011-10-17T03:22:00.000-07:00

I was in charge of logistics at a professional workshop that I was organizing several years ago at my University. In order to assist with helping the many off-campus visitors find their way to the meeting rooms, I had made up some large arrows that were to be attached to walls and signs along the path. I ran up to the printer, picked up the arrow signs, and brought them back to campus. I neatly stacked and aligned them, and then handed them to my secretary (I will refer to her as Mrs. Moneypenny - not her real name) to put into position. I told her to give me a call if she had any questions and sent her off on her way. Pretty simple job that I figured would not result in any issues ... right?

About 30 minutes later, with the workshop set to begin in just about an hour, I got a panicked call from Moneypenny saying that something was wrong with the signs. She asked me to please come over and help her. I stopped what I was doing and hustled across campus to the meeting venue and met her in the lobby. She was still holding half the arrow signs that I had given her. When I got up closer to her, I could see that she was quite flustered and concerned. She said to me, and I quote, "There is something wrong with these signs. They only printed arrows pointing to the right." I took the stack of signs and rotated them by 180 degrees in her hands. She looked to the ground sheepishly and said, "Oh". I turned around and walked silently back to my office. We never spoke of this incident again.

Obsessed

2011-10-14T03:20:00.000-07:00

I have just finished reading the dark and beautifully moving thriller Obsessed by Ted Dekker. The story unfolds in two times and in two locations that are inexorably linked by love, tragedy, and pure sacrifice. It begins in Los Angeles in 1973. Stephen Friedman is a 31 year old realtor who is making his way through his usual day-in, day-out routine. Things change when he learns of a connection to an old Jewish widow who recently died by the name of Rachel Spritzer. Stephen was born during World War II and grew up as an orphan, never having known his parents. It seems that Rachel was his mother and had devoted her life to searching for him with all that she had, yet she never succeeded in finding her boy who had lived for years within 30 miles of her home.

The story then takes us back to a work camp of female Jewish prisoners taken by the Nazis. Women who did not go through Auschwitz, who could be used as slaves for the German war machine, came to this camp, Toruń. A camp ruled with a ruthless and iron fist by the Nazi SS commandant Gerhard Braun. Gerhard viewed the Jews as vermin and lived to build his power by raising their hopes ever so slightly before snatching it away. Ruth and Martha found each other on the train to Toruń and bonded together. We learned that each of them was pregnant. A condition that normally would have gotten them hung. A German work camp would not allow hope and life to infiltrate its walls. Yet the love, strength, and spirit of these two women allowed them to survive and ultimately to give birth to their two children. Ruth gave birth to Ester and Martha to David (who was renamed Stephen). Gerhard decided to kill Martha, but Ruth stepped up and took her place. Gerhard's son Roth viewed this substitution as the moment his father's power had been taken from him. A moment that fueled the rest of his life to take back what had been stolen from his father and from him.

On one hand, the plot takes us on an obsessive search as Roth and Stephen go after a priceless biblical treasure that Martha and Ruth had taken from the Nazis back in the work camp. However, the true search from Roth's viewpoint is a very clever and diabolical search to restore his father's power and finish the job that he should have during the war. For Stephen, the true obsession is to find out about his mother Rachel and the role she played during the war in that camp at Toruń. But more than this, Stephen's main obsession is to find love and fulfill his destiny. It matters not whether this costs him every penny he owns or his own life. It is all about love. An absolutely wonderful story that kept me focussed and thinking from start to end.

Battery Algebra

2011-10-13T03:35:00.000-07:00

There is a children's clothing company named Carter's that has a slogan that kind of tugs at my heart, "If they could just stay little til their Carter's wear out." Awww, now if that doesn't cause your eyes to get all misty and puffy, then you clearly have no soul. But the point is clear, they hope something "X" lasts (your kid's childhood and their insouciant sweetness) for a certain time period "Y" (until their onesie busts its seams and they go off to college). But what happens in the scenario when Y far exceeds X? This is the kind of algebra problem that will make you sink to your knees. Let me illustrate with a chilling tale from my own life.

I have a Friday afternoon group meeting at work that is slated for 1:30 to 3:00 p.m.. I don't know about you, by usually by Friday afternoon my brain is half scrambled and a long meeting only exacerbates my cranial condition. Trying to prevent my brain from spontaneously combusting takes some significant effort, especially on those occasions where my meeting goes on past its allotted time. When this happens, you can witness folks slowly edging their chairs toward the door in an attempt to escape given the slightest chance.

At my last Friday meeting, something unspeakable happened. The meeting outlasted the battery on my laptop! Now, this isn't one of those batteries from a decade ago that held power for 12 minutes before decaying into dust. This is a battery that can hold its own for nearly 4 hours before it conks out. If X represents the lifetime of my battery and Y represents the length of that meeting, X came and went long before Y ran its course. Even today, nearly a full week later, the cloud of fatigue that resulted has still not yet cleared my body.

Leadership

2011-10-12T03:46:00.000-07:00

Before we get too deep into today's post, I would like to begin with the following disclaimer:

I am not perfect and am deeply flawed as a human being in every aspect of my life.

Now that I have made this pronouncement, I have full license to go on a bit of a rant about public leaders. People who should be aware that what they say and what they do matters. As a group, they need to live and carry themselves with integrity and forthrightness at all times. They need to continually strive to be caring, respectful, and aware of the people that they serve, direct, or represent.

Now I am not crass enough to embark on a public shaming. There will be no actual names listed here. Although some of you may be able to figure out who I am talking about, that is not really the point. The point is really to wag our fingers and shake our heads, because we would do a better job in their place, wouldn't we?

A well-known pastor goes to a busy public pool with his children. His young son comes to him as he needs to go to the bathroom. The pastor does not want to be bothered getting up, so he tells his son to just go pee in the pool and to leave him alone.
The chief executive and public face of an oil company responsible for a catastrophic and unprecedented oil spill grows tired of the media and government pressure in the aftermath of the incident and mewls that he just wants his life back. Meanwhile, there are people who have died in the event and many local economies have been devastated for years to come.
A pastor of a big church thinks he is being humorous and tweets just after a hurricane has passed through his area that the storm was no big thing and people should stopping whining. However, the death toll tops 40 and there is more than a billion dollars in damage along the storm's path.
A queen who lives in over-the-top luxury and decadence hears that her people are starving to death and have no bread to eat. Her reply is that if they have no bread, then they should eat cake.

Marker

2011-10-11T03:04:00.000-07:00

Are you the type of person who sets goals for yourself in the things that you pursue? Perhaps you have developed a mental list of where you would like to be 5 or 10 years from now. Now you might not go this far in thinking things out or outlining various scenarios, but I bet that you like to see some sort of noticeable progress in whatever you are involved with. It could be in your career path, particular relationships, your school work, or your faith. It is then natural to become discouraged or disillusioned when your reality does not meet your expectations. In times like this, you have several options. You could continue plodding in the rut you have entrenched, or you could throw in the towel and give up, or you could re-evaluate your approach and make some course corrections.

There are several verses in the Bible about our growth from younglings to mature believers. Hebrews 5:13-14 unapologetically states, "Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil." Jesus's disciple Peter stated (2 Peter 3:18) more humbly, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

As I think back on my life as a Christian, there are seasons when I have felt comfortable, knowing that I was where I was supposed to be and doing what I was supposed to be doing. I felt that I was learning and growing. That I was on the right path surrounded by good people. Then there are seasons such as now, where I am treading water. I feel uncertain and alone. I wander about aimlessly looking for a marker to reorient myself, to get back on the right road. These times are such a discouragement, especially as they linger. I still go to Sunday service, make times for my devotionals, pray and seek, yet it feels a bit hollow, stagnant, rote, and joyless. Perhaps it is time for a course correction.

More Than Gruel?

2011-10-10T03:04:00.000-07:00

Over the past 4 or 5 years, books have become my constant companion. Typically, I am reading 2 or 3 at any given time, and regular visitors to this site will recognize that I like to share my personal reviews. Recently, I have been adding more and more works of fiction to my reading
list, including the genres of thriller, adventure, and mystery. These stories spark my imagination as they transport me into other worlds and histories and times. Usually I find an author that I like and then I more or less read through their entire catalog. However, the number of different authors that I have encountered is still quite limited. Those that I have read have come to me by way of chance as I was browsing the shelves of my local library or bookstore or received a recommendation from a random conversation. While I have enjoyed the books that I have spent time with, I sometimes wonder if I am missing out on something.

If you grow up eating gruel at every meal, you develop a taste for it. In fact, over time, you will come to enjoy it and savor it. However, you won't really appreciate that you are eating gruel until you are suddenly faced with a Ruth's Chris filet mignon on your plate. It is only at this moment that you will then look back at the slop that you had been enjoying and wonder to yourself how you could have been so blind to reality. Why were you wasting your time scarfing down pablum when there was a much richer culinary experience out there with much deeper and more complex nuances, textures, and layers?

So, even though I have enjoyed the fiction works that I have selected, I somehow sense in my bones that there is a higher level of artistry out there than what I have come to know. I wonder if I have been blissfully limiting myself to a bland and watery porridge when there is prime steak out there somewhere. So, what can you recommend as reads or authors that demonstrate an uncommon mastery of this form?

R.E.M. Adieu

2011-10-07T03:40:00.000-07:00

The other day I was reading through the news when my eye found the headline that the band R.E.M. had decided to call it a day. They had played their last chords together and were going their separate ways. They felt that after 30 years of writing and recording music and touring around and around the world, that they had reached the end of themselves. In truth, I kind of agreed. They had peaked musically and stylistically in the late 80s and early 90s and then morphed into something mid-aged and lifeless. Predictable, usual, and somewhat bland. This really is the death knell for a band. Without passion, without an edge, without a message that will resonate, artists cannot sustain and go about business as usual. So, in the end, I respect the group for stepping away with a strong legacy.

Certainly musical groups, even once popular ones, come and go every day. It really isn't that big of a deal in the larger scheme of things. However, there is something about this band R.E.M. that is quite special to me. Given the longevity of the group, I have been hearing their music since I was in high school. But more than that, they have been with me in every meaningful season of my life. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. Sometimes blasting with volume shaking the plaster from the walls, sometimes just a whisper in the distance. But never far away.

So, in honor of their career, I thought I would list some of my favorite R.E.M. songs:

The One I Love - Document
Fall on Me - Lifes Rich Pageant
Leave - New Adventures in Hi-Fi
Country Feedback - Out of Time
Texarkana - Out of Time
Strange Currencies - Monster
I've Been High - Reveal
Nightswimming - Automatic for the People
Find the River - Automatic for the People
Monty Got a Raw Deal - Automatic for the People

Rouladen

2011-10-06T03:03:00.000-07:00

I recently stumbled across a review regarding the cuisine of Germany. It stated, and I quote, "The best thing about German food is that it's just so much dang fun to talk about." This brief story then precipitated a flashback to a traumatizing event that I endured more than 10 years ago in a German restaurant. In time, however, the night terrors abated, and I was able to finally move on with my life. Let me share the harrowing tale.

It was a dark and stormy night ... well, actually it was a weeknight after a long day at work. A friend of mine asked me if I wanted to grab some chow. Instead of playing the inane game of: Where do you want to eat? ... I dunno, where do you want to eat?, he suggested that we go to a German place nearby. As I used to like watching Hogan Heroes, I thought, why not? This could broaden my horizons and actually count toward that foreign cultures credit I was seeking at the local community college. So, I went along, but nearly to my doom.

When we got there, the place was empty. The shadows from the walls sconces cast eerie shadows across the floor. Then a hulking frau from the 1972 East German weightlifting squad emerged from the back room. Her soulless stare caused me to break out in hives. Her eyes snarled, "I will break you." I nervously gestured at the first menu listing I saw. When it arrived, it looked like someone had placed an old cigar on a bed of coarse, stained mashed potatoes. Squeamishly, I cut into the cigar, and was horrified to find a flagrant dill pickle inside. After 20 minutes the house frau returned and looked at my barely touched plate. She drilled me with a look so menacing that I wet myself. She bellowed out, "Vaat a Vaaste!", and she beat at her chest. Sensing that our lives were in jeopardy, my friend and I threw a wad of cash on the table and sprinted for the door. Without looking back we sped away, realizing just how narrow our escape truly was.

The Priest's Graveyard

2011-10-05T03:23:00.000-07:00

The novel The Priest's Graveyard by Ted Dekker opens by looking through two wonderfully detailed and well written windows. One depicts a Bosnian family caught in the middle of an ethnic civil war. A young boy watches his mother and sisters brutally raped and murdered while he struggles helplessly against his oppressors. He focusses on revenge and joins a local militia to deliver his righteous justice. Desperate to escape from the harsh shadows of this world, he comes to America and becomes a priest. Through the other we see a young girl rejected by her parents, turn to a drug-fueled life on the streets. Strung out, lost, and confused, she tries to flee her pusher after years of abuse. At her nadir, she is rescued by what seems to be an angel, who takes her away from her world.

The priest, Danny Hansen, has a deep passion for his calling and has given his life to loving those in his community. But those who prey on the weak must be brought to justice, although his notion of who is responsible for meting out this justice is warped by the experiences of his teenage years. The woman, Renee Gilmore, is weened off her heroine addiction and nursed back to health by her rescuer. However, her benefactor is not the white knight that her addled mind has made him out to be. When Renee's keeper mysteriously disappears, she is quickly thrust into a world that she is ill-prepared to understand. Yet she must cope if she is to survive, if she is to find the truth. It is then that Renee meets Father Hansen. This novel features an intriguing plot twist as the worlds of the priest and the wayward girl collide and rebound against each other. A key moment in the narrative is when Father Hansen has a chance meeting with a visiting nun who asks a question that gives him insight and clarity into his theology and his world view regarding the notions of justice and judgment. This novel features some extremely well written scenes and represents a solid, but not outstanding work. Some uneven character development and a somewhat banal ending, but still an enjoyable and thought provoking work.

Gloom, Despair, and Agony

2011-10-04T03:01:00.000-07:00

The lyrics to a famous Wagnerian aria made famous by the beloved opera tenor Placido Polanco go as follows (note that I have translated these scrupulously from Wagner's native tongue - Swedish):

Gloom, despair, and agony on me
Deep, dark depression, excessive misery
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all
Gloom, despair, and agony on me

Can you relate? How has your luck played out over the past few weeks? Mine has been, in a word, rather suckish. Well, actually that is two words, but as Matt Damon famously asked in his Oscar winning screenplay for Sunset Boulevard, what's in a word? I submit to you the following examples from my own personal life that would absolutely ruin the average man (yet somehow I manage to soldier on):

I follow two teams in baseball. The Boston Red Sox and the Atlanta Braves. The Red Sox just blew the biggest September lead in the history of the universe. The Braves, well they gagged and wretched away the second biggest September lead in the history of foreverness. Both teams missed the playoffs in impressive, get-your-hopes-up-but-dash-your-heart-on-the-rocks-at-the-last-instant fashion on the last day of the season.
I had a truck load of top soil delivered to my property just a few days before my area received 3 straight weeks of torrential, never-ending freakin' rain fall. Now I have a collosal mud pit in my front yard, suitable for mucking pigs or extreme wrestling.
My yard has been overrun with mole-type vermin. When I recognized their calling card, I geared up like Rambo and set out to show them no mercy. Now several hundred dollars and a completely obliterated yard later, they have me in a figure-four leg-lock begging for mercy. The critters are like Mike Tyson in his prime and I am Carol Channing.
The other morning my T.V. alarm went off to wake me up. The channel was somehow set to PBS and the show was "Barney and Friends". Now I can't get that stinking "I love you, you love me" song out of my head.

Ahhh me. Can I get some sympathy, oh, and a Tic Tac? I can taste the bile in my mouth. Gloom, despair, and agony indeed.

Roughnecks

2011-10-03T03:10:00.000-07:00

Most every day at work I sit in my car for a few moments at lunch time to find a little space and a little peace. As the lunch hour rolls to a close, a wave of construction workers erecting a new building on our grounds heads back to their job site. Dozens of workers stroll through the parking lot past my view. Roughnecks one and all. Most adorned with tattoos, a cigarette hanging out of their mouth, and a look of toughness about themselves. Through my windshield, they definitely look like stock characters from a movie in the way they act, the way they dress, and the way they look. There is quite a stark contrast between these crews of workers walking in one direction, and the business folks in their tailored suits walking in the other direction.

It is so easy to judge their blue collar world from my vantage point in my white collar tower. I sometimes find myself taking the long way around to avoid them, or checking that my car is locked as I sit inside, or deriding them in my mind as they walk by. Why do I feel the need to judge? They are no different than me. They work hard all day to make a living to support themselves and their families. It's honest work that takes skill, commitment, and a good attitude. They provide a great service for the community. However, although I try to remind myself to view these workers with respect, my mind ignores this request and seems to fire out negativity and judgment at the drop of a (hard)hat.

Teach Your Children Well

2011-09-30T03:27:00.000-07:00

My pastor tweeted some wise words the other day, "Just reviewed our school's family life education. Parents, talk to your kids before their teachers do. It's your job!"

Why do parent's avoid talking to their children about important aspects of life? Topics having to do with sexuality, relationships, inappropriate behavior, and drugs. No, I'm not alluding to those tear-filled diatribes after a bell has been wrung that can't be unwrung, nor those in-the-moment nagging reprimands. I'm referring to those deliberate and tender parent-child talks that outline firm boundaries, teach them and remind them of the values that you want them to embrace, and clarify misconceptions before they become set in granite. Sure these talks can be awkward, can make us feel vulnerable, and can completely take us out of our comfort zone. However, these moments are an important component of parenting, and while they are no guarantee that your children will make it through adolescence unscathed, I think they give them a better chance to recognize trouble and avoid it based on knowledge and truth.

In my house, having the "talk" with my daughter is not and was not meant to be a one time event. In fact, I have made it an annual occurrence linked to the start of the school year. In our last day together before she goes back to classes each year, I talk with her about a number of issues that I think she should be aware of and understand. Whether I am giving her new information or reminding her of things we have discussed before, I purposefully and intentionally set aside this time. Certainly my words and intentions aren't always understood and do not always penetrate as deeply as I would like, but she knows that I am trying my best to help her and to love her. Also, each time I talk to her, it makes it easier for me to enter into this type of discussion and makes it more likely that I will be heard in the future.

Pebbles in the Stream

2011-09-29T03:17:00.000-07:00

I have a small collection of stones and shells that sit on my bedside table. Little mementos from here and there. A red rock from the Rio Grande, a piece of coral from Hawaii, a smooth green stone given to me by my daughter because I like the color green, a fossilized clam shell from a walking path at work, and some stones and fragments gathered from walks with my daughter. Each represents a marker that tells of a special moment in my life. If you listen, each has a small tale to tell of a stop along my way.

These keepsakes mostly sit and collect dust, going ignored and unnoticed from day to day. However, every once in a while as I reach over them to turn on the lamp, a memory catches my eye and pulls me in. It is then that I will pick up one of the pieces and rub it between my fingers and linger for a moment or two. Just let the memories cascade through my mind and take me back.

Boneman's Daughters

2011-09-28T03:38:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading the suspense thriller Boneman's Daughters by author Ted Dekker. This is the story of a U.S. military intelligence officer, Ryan Evans, who has abandoned his wife Celine and daughter Bethany to fulfill his duty to serve his country in Iraq. One day he is sent out into the field and is captured by a local operative whose goal is to get Ryan to denounce his country's occupation of Iraq for a propaganda film. The technique chosen to mentally break Ryan is macabre. Local children are brought into his presence and slowly tortured. After several children are killed in this manner, Ryan manages to overpower his captor and escape back to his unit. However, his brain is scrambled by what he has experienced. During his imprisonment he comes to the realization that he loves his wife and daughter beyond measure and must be reunited with them.

The military sends Ryan back to his home in Texas to recover. There we are introduced to the satanic Alvin Finch, aka "Boneman". A serial killer who has murdered seven young women by breaking their bones one by one. Ryan is accused of being the Boneman by the local DA who happens to be sleeping with Ryan's wife and who has helped to turn Ryan's daughter against him. In the end, Ryan and his daughter tearfully reconcile after a dramatic rescue and after they torch Boneman to cinders.

I have now read more than a dozen Dekker novels. Although I enjoyed reading this work, it was definitely on a considerably lower plane than all of the others. None of the characters was well developed. Ryan's wife Celine was a nasty witch with no redeeming qualities. His 16 year old daughter Bethany developed a mighty quick and implausible case of Stockholm Syndrome for the mass murderer. The DA and lead FBI agent were underwhelming stock characters. This read like a melodramatic first draft novel from a rookie author, not the crisp, fresh, and compelling work of a seasoned master.

Blind Man

2011-09-27T03:02:00.000-07:00

As He went along, He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked Him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" John 9:1-2

This story from the New Testament of the Bible has always kind of poked at me. Jesus and His disciples were walking along the road when they happened upon a blind man. Instead of taking action of any kind with the poor and helpless outcast, such as comforting him or praying with him, Jesus's disciples engage in misguided, rhetorical theological debate. Some have even suggested that their dialog and exchange occurred within earshot of the man. This story has always rubbed at me, not because I am shaking my head at the disciples from my ivory pedestal, but because I would have been right there, taking part in the discussion. How can I say that?

The other day I was running an errand on my way home from work. I was just leaving the store and pulled up to the traffic light in the middle lane. There on the side of the road was a panhandler, a man shaking a tin for scratch from passersby. He wore a crude cardboard sign around his neck saying that he had lost everything, "Please help". Normally my instinct is to avoid even acknowledging these people, to stare straight at the road ahead of me. But this time, this time, I looked over and we made brief eye contact. He acknowledged me with a slight nod of his head. As I looked into his eyes, I saw a man, likely in his mid-30s, with a kind face and a mantle of dignity. There was an unmistakeable pain written across his face, but his jaw was set and he was doing what he needed to do to survive.

As the light turned green, I thought to myself what could possibly have happened to bring a man to the point of begging on the street. I wondered if he had brought this upon himself or if he just had some bad luck. As I sat analyzing and creating a story for him in my head, the passage about the blind man in John 9:1-2 came back to me and it became very personal in its meaning. I had taken the trajedy of this man's personal crisis and turned it into an academic exercise to pass the time on my drive home. But as I pulled into my driveway, I could still see his eyes and felt powerless. I that moment, I did what the disciples did not do for the blind man, I prayed. But I prayed for both of us.

Heavy Lifting

2011-09-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

I think that Peter Griffin is one of the wisest men that I know. Whenever I face the tough questions in life, I turn to him to dispense his witty brand of sage advice. Advice forged in the fires of life. Take Peter's counsel regarding lifting heavy loads:

"The key is to put it all in your groin and your back, take your legs totally out of the equation. Lift with your lower back in a jerking, twisting motion."
I can still picture Peter's reaction in the scene when he tries to lift that car. Just watching him writhe on the ground in a jerking, twisting motion ... Anyway, I would bet that I have made you smile with this. You might even be saying to yourself, "Even a corn nugget knows to lift with your legs and to protect your back." In fact just the other day at work I took part in a safety lecture about proper lifting techniques. The most important rule, what experts might term, rule #1, is to get someone else to do the lifting.

So, anyhow, the very same evening as I had attended the safety lecture about lifting, I had to work out in the yard to remove a tree stump. After a good 30 minutes of concerted effort, I decided to put my glass of juice down and actually go outside and get started on the job. I then worked to completely tear up my lawn and finally had removed as many of the roots as I could see. I then was faced with a 100 lb stump blob to rip from the ground. So, I bent over at the waist and heaved and/or yanked with everything that I had. I then found myself writhing on the ground with a messed up back after following Peter's advice to the letter. This was definitely a case of life imitating art.