Picture this: Light

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A little while back our pastor said during a service that we shouldn’t just sing the words during Praise & Worship time, but be sensitive to the Spirit and open to insights that would come. I remember thinking at the time that that sounded like a reasonable approach but I didn’t give it another thought as the week, maybe even two weeks, went on. Then it just started happening: we would be singing and one or two lines in a song would just seem to come alive within me, painting a picture or creating a deeper understanding.

The first time it was kind of neat. The next week it happened with another song, which in turn reminded me of the week before. Then another week, another song, another picture. It kept happening, and sometimes I would share these pictures or revelations with the congregation and other times I’d keep it to myself and ponder it. What I also found happening, however, is that these images would fade as the week went on unless something specifically reminded me of them. Even then it could be just the sketchiest recollection; I’d remember the general sense of what I’d seen but not the quickening I felt when it first coalesced in my mind, kind of like having a dream and then trying to describe the next day over lunch.

What I’ve decided to do, then, is to try and write these down as soon as I can and since I’m doing that I might as well post them here for whatever it’s worth. Frankly, I don’t know if this will help me remember or apply what I’ve seen, or if it will bring the whole thing to a halt. Or maybe it’s what I’ve supposed to have been doing all along.

Today in church we did something very different and didn’t sing, but last week I had made special note of what I’d received and wrote it down and held onto it while I decided whether to start sharing these pictures. Here goes.

“He wraps himself in light,
and darkness tries to hide…”

The song had many more lines than that but these two were what stopped me. I pictured what happens when a light is turned on in an empty room; immediately the darkness clears out, looking for a place to hide. It can only exist where there’s something that blocks the light, so it goes to the corners as if trying to find a narrow space. If the room has boxes or furniture in it, though, it will “hide” on the other side of these, appearing as a shadow.

Then I saw that the “room” is our lives and Jesus is the light that comes in, and the darkness tries to hide from Him. Great parts of the room are illuminated, but the shadows still exist behind the stuff in the room. Some of that stuff in my room are things that I’ve carried in there, and some are things that others might have deposited. Regardless, there are things in my life — things where my mind hasn’t been completely renewed, things where I still prefer to lean toward my own understanding or my own plans — that come between me and Jesus. Though the room is lit and much brighter than before, and the shadows aren’t as dark as the dark itself was, certain things in my life have a dark side that doesn’t want the light to come in.

So. Can I let the light shine on me in these areas? The light is all around, it wants to be where I am. But it’s cool in the shade and sometimes the light hurts my eyes so that I don’t want to look at it. What do I do? If it’s something I’ve brought in — some comfy furniture, for example, or abstract art that I thought made me look sophisticated — I should just carry it outside. If it’s baggage that someone else has dropped I should carry that out like garbage as well, or if it’s too heavy, at least step out from behind it rather than using it as an excuse. Perhaps I am like a chastened puppy, hiding under the couch that just needs to come out and let restoration and transformation begin.

Can I, will I, crawl out?

Psalm 89:15 “Blessed [is] the people that know the joyful sound: they shall walk, O LORD, in the light of thy countenance.”

John 8:12 “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

Ephesians 5:8 “For ye were sometimes darkness, but now [are ye] light in the Lord: walk as children of light…”

Kevin, man the harpoons!

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Def con 4. From intelligence resource, codenamed King David:

SOUTH ST. PAUL, Minn. — A cow ran loose on Interstate 494 in St. Paul Friday morning. Traffic cameras picked up the cow at 494 and Concord Street around 9:00 a.m. Friday.

When captured later, the cow appeared to be suffering from amnesia—she kept referring to ‘Operation Tiger Lilly,’ and continually repeated that the Tiger was going to be taken down.

Special K: Execute defense plan Delta Tango. No survivors, but remains may be suitably aged and delivered to the bunker’s chef.

So dangerous you have to sign a waiver…

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I heard Randy Moss’s local lawyer on KFAN last night and this morning describing the incident that led to a woman hurting her finger and then asking for $500,000 from Moss or she’d go public. According to the lawyer, Moss was at the woman’s house last weekend to watch a playoff game and after the game there was some “consensual horseplay” that led to the injured finger. There was no description of the finger injury.

Let’s see…playoff game, minor injury, $500,000. Okay, I’m getting a little nervous.

If a finger is worth $500,000, what might Ben demand after jumping up and hitting his head on my basement ceiling during last week’s Packer game?

(Bonus points for anyone – other than my kids – who knows what song that headline came from.)

Taunting the Tiger

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There’s a tremendous, insightful and thought-provoking post over at Breath of the Beast. No excerpt here can quite do it justice, but I encourage you to take the time to walk along with the author as he tries to understand the cultural death-wish of moral relativism and the motivations of those who would defend or make excuses for a regime that would tear them to shreds if they were ever to personally fall into its clutches. It’s not a rant but a thoughtful examination of how intelligent minds can become so deceived.

It’s a profound essay, and I get a strong sense that it isn’t the only one of its kind to be found on Breath of the Beast.

HT: Techno-Chitlins

Privilege, moi ? No, the “Privilege Meme”

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Via Kathy and Mitch and a couple of other places, here’s the “Privilege Meme” that’s going around, I suppose to help one comprehend how privileged you are. The idea is to bold face the statements below that apply to you. I’ll do that, then I have some thoughts on the nature and definition of privilege at the end.

First of all, however, the original source of this meme is an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. The developers ask that if you participate in this blog game, you acknowledge their copyright. So acknowledged.

Father went to college

Father finished college

Mother went to college

Mother finished college
Not only that, but she eventually went on to get a Ph.D in Elementary Education and Administration.

Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor
Ummm, no, but my little sister is a veterinarian, the second Dr. in the family.

Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers

Had more than 50 books in your childhood home
Do comic books count?

Had more than 500 books in your childhood home

Were read children’s books by a parent
Loved that Dr. Seuss Sleep Book.

Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
You mean, other than “if you don’t stop making that face it will freeze like that”?

Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18

The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively
Hmmm. Is Ned Flanders a positive portrayal?

In the words of Napoleon Dynamite, “Lucky!”

In this day and age when I see the word “privilege” associated with something like this it is usually attached to a phrase such as “White Privilege” and an exercise aimed at myself or others accidentally born Caucasian. That seems to be the intent behind the original work that later became this meme, and the theme of certain writings you’ll find on the Illinois State University website.

The point is to make us feel guilty about being born with certain advantages. To which my response would be, “What is your point?” I hope this wasn’t the result of hundreds of thousands of dollars sunk into a research study of the obvious. I mean, couldn’t that money have been better spent on something like finding out why monkeys scream during sex? Perhaps a better response from me, though, would be “So what?” — as in “So what do you want me to do about it?”

Am I supposed to go around feeling meek and guilty for an accident of birth over which I had no control over? I mean, that was a decision made way above my pay-grade. Similarly, should I be upset over the injustice that Michael Jordan gets the privilege of being 6′ 9″ with mad skills, or that Sean Connery gets that voice? Or should I go to Japan and have people treat me differently, in overt or subtle ways, because I’m different? They probably would, and I’d probably be upset about it, but the only thing in my power to change about the situation is my attitude.

In the Fundamentals in Film class I do with the young men we have watched a number of movies that deal with racism, prejudice, injustice. Though they are ostensibly “privileged” young white men (actually, they’re not all white), I tell them repeatedly that no matter who they are or where they are, there are always going to be people who will discriminate against them because of their age, the way they talk or think, what they believe, the way they look; there’s usually going to be someone with some power and authority in their lives whose prejudices will impact them in some way. They can’t help but be affected by it, but it’s up to them just how much difference they’re going to allow it to make in their lives.

Looking back through the statements in the meme above it occurs to me that this particular statements have more to do with class than race. That is, the statements seem to assume (the HR folks at my politically correct company refer to assumptions as “blind spots”, btw) that “class” is determined by birth and environment. Those are undeniably large, but not determining, factors. Class in this country is one of the most fluid of the ways we classify ourselves or are classified by others. Decision-making and behavior can change this quite a bit.

Almost all of the circumstances above are the result of a decision made by a grandparent, parent or myself. Neither my father or anyone in his family went to college; my mother’s father got himself through college through hard work, ingenuity, a love of learning and a desire to better himself. (It seems unpopular or unjust these days to want to better yourself. Instead, judging by the way people vote, it’s far better to expect others to lower themselves to your standard.) The vision and aspiration was passed on, and my parents made college a priority for their children, at great cost and apparent sacrifice, though it hardly seemed like a sacrifice to them.

The “privilege” bequeathed to me and that helped me to succeed was not an accident or random fortune. It was bought and paid for in the way each generation was raised. It is the same “privilege” I’ll fight for in order to pass on to my children. I was lucky to the extent that I was born into a family where someone had already started the tradition. Other people will get the honor and privilege of being the one to start the tradition themselves.

The difference between men and women: #436

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Saturday the Mall Diva released Ben from her clutches so he and I could do some male bonding while watching the Packers play-off game. We were watching the game in the basement (where the snowy field and green and gold uniforms were beautiful in HD) when Ryan Grant broke off a long run toward the Seahawks’ goal-line.

Packer-fan Ben leapt off his couch in such great excitement that he struck his head on the low ceiling, dealing himself a near-stunning blow.

Upstairs the Diva and her mother heard the startling and devastating crack and wondered out loud and with some concern if something catastrophic had happened. They listened intently for what might come next.

“Must not be anything too bad,” Mall Diva said. “Dad’s laughing his butt off.”

Music and passion at the X

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Disclosure time: my wife is a big Barry Manilow fan. I didn’t know this about her before we were married. She knows that hers is a love that dare not speak its name since, despite the giga-bazillion records he has sold, the Manilow brand is anathema to many.

One time we went to a work-related Christmas party that featured a white elephant gift exchange; one of those things where, as a gag, people give away stuff in their possession that they don’t want. In the luck of the draw, my wife received a Barry Manilow double-album and was thrilled, to the dismay of my co-workers. My wife no longer attends work-related Christmas parties with me.

I also used to have one of those CD-buying club memberships; you know the ones that just about require surgery to get removed from you. Despite what my membership in the club says about my judgment, I wouldn’t let my wife order a Barry Manilow CD from the club. “The government keeps track of those records and, as the membership is in my name, I don’t want that in my permanent record.”

Nevertheless, my wife has fond memories of the two Barry Manilow concerts she’s attended.

Actually, make that three.

Thursday one of my co-workers who does a lot of work with the United Way received four comp tickets from the organization to Friday night’s Manilow concert. He either couldn’t or wouldn’t use them himself so he sent an email around the office that these were available. Now, I could have ignored it and my wife would have been none the wiser, but I knew how much she liked Barry Manilow and what it meant to her, and could mean to me, if I could get those tickets. I called. Amazingly, they were still available. I called my wife. When she answered the phone I crooned, “I write the songs that make the whole world sing…”

“What?” she said.

“Well, do you know who writes the songs?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know he’s in concert tomorrow night at the Xcel?”

“No.”

“Do you know who has tickets to the concert?”

“Nooooo…”

“We do.”

*Unintelligible shrieking.*

Life lessons for teenagers

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1. Don’t tug on Superman’s cape.

2. Don’t spit into the wind.

3. Don’t post pictures of yourself participating in illegal activities on Facebook.

The children are upset because Eden Prairie High School is disciplining them for breaking school rules about drinking by suspending several students from athletic teams or extra-curricular activities (presumably not drinking related). “Unfair!” they say as they stalk to their corners (or stage a walk-out).

For educational purposes, let’s examine this logic. The students and their parents sign agreements not to drink alcohol while participating in school events (or presumably while eligible to participate), such as sports. The student breaks that pledge and the school finds out through photographic evidence. What part of basic cause and effect did you not learn in class? The school is enforcing its rules, and you should hope that the State of Minnesota doesn’t try to enforce it’s rules (called “laws”, btw) as well since underage drinking is, like, you know, illegal.

And no, my darlings, this isn’t a violation of privacy or free speech. First, if you put something in a public place or space, it’s not private. Second, while your posting of it is speech, the punishment isn’t because you posted, per se, but because the pictures were of you doing something that broke your word, the rules and the law.

This lesson is over. Now, get back to class because I don’t think you can afford to miss many more.

The post heard ’round the world

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Today’s Writer’s Almanac notes that it is the anniversary of the day that Thomas Paine published Common Sense.

It was on this day in 1776 that Thomas Paine published his political pamphlet Common Sense arguing for American independence from Great Britain. At the time of the publication, Paine had been living in America only two years. He’d grown up in England, where he’d struggled to earn a living as a tax collector. He saw firsthand the corruption of the British government, and had recently been fired from his job when he met Benjamin Franklin in London, and Franklin encouraged him to move to America.

He arrived just in time to see the colonies rebelling against problems in the British tax system, similar to what he had experienced back in England. He got a job as a journalist, and he immediately began to write about the political situation. After the Battle of Lexington and Concord in April of 1775, he decided that the only solution to the conflict would be total independence for the American colonies. But when he expressed those ideas in his newspaper, he lost his job.

He spent the next several months traveling around Pennsylvania, going to various bars and taverns and talking to ordinary people about their opinions on American independence. He used these conversations to develop a writing style that an ordinary person could easily understand, and he used that style to write his pamphlet “Common Sense,” published on this day in 1776.

The pamphlet sold more than 500,000 copies, more copies than any other publication had ever sold at that time in America. It helped persuade many Americans to support revolution, and seven months later, the colonies officially declared independence.

Ah, the power of an idea, and the written word!