Marker

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.