I spent way too much of 2017 sick.
My goal for 2018 is to be much healthier. Some causes of illness are out of my control (like having small children in the house) but many are in my control. Here are some things I should do to be healthier:
I think there’s a difference between taking comfort in my beliefs and taking comfort in my own understanding of my beliefs.
For example, if it comforts you that God is in control of the world – that’s fine. If it comforts you that you understand exactly who God is condemning – that’s troubling.
Back in my freshman year of college, my roommate Jon had gotten involved with an on-campus Christian group that was also associated with – I think – Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Jon invited me to an event they organized and I was game. It wasn’t the kind of thing we often did, but I seem to remember a potential romantic relationship for one of us was at play.
The event was an old fashioned BBQ with hay rides and everything on a farm outside of Gainesville. Really outside: I can remember how bright the stars were out there. The most notable part, however, was that this BBQ was hosted at the personal home of Sonny Tillman, the founder of Sonny’s BBQ. He is something of a legend in those parts. Guess he had a soft spot for FCA and provided his farm and all the Sonny’s food we could eat. nAnd I was ready for it. Doing a lot of cycling in those days, I could put away some calories. As I went through the line, I loaded up my plate with everything I could: pulled pork, beans, garlic bread – oh and ribs! I have to have ribs! My plate was full and then some, and I had to walk carefully back to a table.
By chance, I happened to cross paths with Sonny himself as I was delicately navigating the crowded barn. He looked down at my overloaded plate and then at the 150 pound awkward 18-year-old holding it and said, in at least six syllables of deep southern drawl, “Hungry, boy?”
I grinned sheepishly and said, “Yeah.”
He said, “You better finish that plate, you hear?”
And in one of the proud moments of my life up to that point, I did.
When I fall apart under stress it looks like this:
Despite its sexist premise (it’s the other woman’s fault this man can’t honor his commitment?) and its dubious backstory (is he really the ‘only man’ for you if he would dump you for a soft-spoken ginger?), Jolene really is the best song ever written.
It’s a masterclass in leaving you wanting more. The simple and elegant chord progression moves so pleasingly under the clever but natural rhymes of the verses, but just enough to give you a taste for more. I wish there were twelve more verses.
But ultimately, it’s the naked pathos of one woman pleading with another to have pity. She has no other resources left; she’s arrived at her last resort: begging. Her happiness depends on Jolene and what she decides to do…and we never find out.
I have a feeling that many Americans will be going to the polls without a lot of passion for their candidate. You know, the whole ‘lesser of two evils’ idea. I have to confess that I am not exactly passionate about the candidate I’ll be voting for.
But let me offer another motivation for voting: survival. No, not mine – as a white man, the American system already has a lot of momentum towards protecting my interests. I’ll be using my vote to help preserve others.
We have a candidate who has consistently – in his life, in his campaign, and in his suggested policies – discriminated against, diminished, and endangered the lives of people of color, women, Muslims, immigrants, refugees, people with disabilities, and those he simply considers ‘losers.’ He has been endorsed by numerous white supremacist, nativist, and anti-Semitic groups that have never before endorsed a major candidate. Behind him are people who believe we would be ‘great again’ by controlling and diminishing the lives of certain classes of humans.
For the sake of those fellow humans, cast your vote accordingly. No, we aren’t there yet, but despite his bleak, autocratic vision of the country, we could actually live up to the unfulfilled promise we started with that we are stronger when we not only tolerate but embrace the tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free. That we will be a better nation because of the free contributions of those who have been previously enslaved and destroyed because of fear. That real ‘greatness’ will come not from looking back toward a time of greater domination, but forward to a time of greater love.
Even if you aren’t completely smitten with your candidate, be passionate about that when you go to the polls. And vote accordingly.
There once was a man who had a neighbor. The neighbor invited him to a great party. Food was shared. Everyone cared for each other and the man went home happy. He was surprised that the next week, his neighbor invited him over for another great party. He attended again and loved it again. The third week in a row, the neighbor invited the man to the party and the man became suspicious. “How can he afford to throw so many parties? Perhaps he is trying to trick us into doing something. I’ll not go. Besides, I’m tired of parties.”
But the man noticed that week after week, the neighbor continued to throw parties for whoever came. Often there were people there he did not recognize. Week after week, the neighbor invited him to parties. The man pitied his neighbor and started calling him names behind his back.
Then one day, the man took sick, lost his job, and could not afford to buy himself food. When his neighbor invited him to the party, he thought to himself, “what choice do I have? Besides, I want to see whether the parties are any good anymore.” When the man joined the party he found food and neighbors caring for each other just as he did at the first party. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he had been wrong about the neighbor.
Without anything to contribute, the man asked his neighbor how he could help. “You can’t,” he said, but instead gave him all the leftovers from the meal. “It’s too much,” said the man. The neighbor simply said, “Then, that’s how you can help.”
When you make music, you call up a lot of ghosts. American music no less than any other.
This country may be new, but its people are ancient.nWhen you play its music, you’re responsible – if not to them, then for them.
If your melody waxes nostalgic for Dixie, then your words better talk the ghosts down.
Clay Shirkey banned laptops in class even though he is a proponent of technology. But distraction is like secondhand smoke: it hurts us and the group. Our basic urges follow distraction down rabbit holes before we even have time to stop it. He now seems himself working together with students against these tendencies by banning devices.
Attention is precious in our faith. The church should also work together, when appropriate, to limit distraction without demonizing technology.
