Saturday, January 26, 2008
The Story - Brandi Carlile
Jen introduced me to this gal and we cannot get enough of her music. Jen still gets goosebumps everytime she listens to this song. One of the first albums we've bought in a while. Definetely worth the cash.
"All of these lines that cross my face
tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
and how I got to where I am."
-Phil Hanseroth
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Economics of Interaction
Several years ago while delivering Christmas presents I learned a hard lesson in what I like to call “the economics of interaction.” The lesson learned was that it is possible to give to others even with the best of intentions and yet in the process end up taking more than you give.
We were delivering presents on behalf of a prison inmate to his children through Chuck Colson’s Angel Tree program. My wife and I along with several teenagers in our youth group pulled up to a rundown house in a shady section of KC with an armload of presents for three children who lived with their grandmother. Their mother was in jail and the father, who knows…
I have never quite learned how to exist comfortably as a rich guy, (relatively speaking, both globally and historically I am filthy rich regardless of how high up the American ladder I am) on the one hand I can’t get Jesus words out of my head and on the other hand I am too distracted by the pleasures of wealth to give a hoot. So I sit in this uncomfortably passive state satiated for the moment by cake and American Idol. So on this night I was very excited to be finally doing something. I was going to make a difference! Perhaps in doing good I could somehow assuage the guilt I felt for my wealth.
We met the kids and delivered their presents to the grandmother, a saintly woman who had lost most of her foot to diabetes and if I remember right, whose vision wasn’t far behind. We chit chatted for a few minutes and then I asked if we could pray for her, she agreed, I prayed a blessing over her and the kids and we left. As we drove home I kept replaying the night in my head, something was bothering me but I couldn’t put my finger on it, and then it hit me – the wrong person prayed. Rather than praying for her, I should have fallen on my knees and begged her to pray for me. Here was a woman missing half a foot, in ill health, raising three children – this woman knew more about love and life than what I didn’t know about life and love. I realized then and there that by coming in to this woman’s house as someone with something “to give” that I had actually exalted myself over her and that by “giving” without recognizing that she was actually the one with something to give, that I had actually “taken” some small part of her dignity. Now then whether or not she actually felt I had taken her dignity, I'll never know, but I certainly felt as though I had, and resolved to never to let it happen again. Actually, in an effort to ensure that it doesn't, I have just sworn off helping anyone, ever.
Well not really, but the realization that night has heavily influenced my thinking since, I have never forgotten that lady. I don’t want that night to prevent me from reaching out, but when I do reach out; I want to do it with humility. I want to receive and in the process give dignity. I have come in part to the following conclusions. Conclusions that become more and more relevant every day:
a)Results matter more than intentions
b)The ends do not justify the means
c)It is possible to give and yet take in the process
d)Jesus’ instructions to us regarding those in need are as much for our benefit as they are for the benefit of those in need. Recognizing this is crucial to understand as we go into giving situations. When we give we should also receive in a way that gives dignity to the recipient by acknowledging that they too as a child of God have something to give us.
e)Doing the right thing sometimes makes you feel terrible and so I’ve got to ask myself, “am I doing this because it is the right thing to do or because it makes me feel good about myself?”
For example, consider the following verse from the New Testament “if a man will not work, he shall not eat.” This rule if followed absolutely serves to protect society from leeches but it wasn’t until recently that I realized that this rule is just as much about the protection of the man who does not work as it is for the society in which he lives. It is a brilliant recognition of human nature. Everybody has some area in their life in which they will repeatedly slack if not challenged. For some people this area happens to be work. Without loving people to challenge us (spouse, parent, friend) in these areas we will slide into our personal lowest common denominator and live in perpetual underachievement. So when presented with an underachieving loved one or a lazy man the choice becomes, do I do what makes me feel good or do I do what in the short term will make us both feel miserable but in the long run create a great good?
f)Just as there are things that look good that actually produce negative results, there are things that appear harsh that actually produce good results.
Althought they sound alike, this is more of a political revelation while the previous point was more of a personal one. The hard way is the right way. I think about this nearly daily as I watch those who would be king do their best to make us forget it.
These are not groundbreaking revelations I know, but bear with me, I am a slow learner, and their freshness to me means they are still exciting. I am still trying to figure it all out, and would appreciate your thoughts on the topic.
“When social service is performed out of a sense of guilt, the inevitable result is chaos.”
- The Reverend Jimmy Carter
We were delivering presents on behalf of a prison inmate to his children through Chuck Colson’s Angel Tree program. My wife and I along with several teenagers in our youth group pulled up to a rundown house in a shady section of KC with an armload of presents for three children who lived with their grandmother. Their mother was in jail and the father, who knows…
I have never quite learned how to exist comfortably as a rich guy, (relatively speaking, both globally and historically I am filthy rich regardless of how high up the American ladder I am) on the one hand I can’t get Jesus words out of my head and on the other hand I am too distracted by the pleasures of wealth to give a hoot. So I sit in this uncomfortably passive state satiated for the moment by cake and American Idol. So on this night I was very excited to be finally doing something. I was going to make a difference! Perhaps in doing good I could somehow assuage the guilt I felt for my wealth.
We met the kids and delivered their presents to the grandmother, a saintly woman who had lost most of her foot to diabetes and if I remember right, whose vision wasn’t far behind. We chit chatted for a few minutes and then I asked if we could pray for her, she agreed, I prayed a blessing over her and the kids and we left. As we drove home I kept replaying the night in my head, something was bothering me but I couldn’t put my finger on it, and then it hit me – the wrong person prayed. Rather than praying for her, I should have fallen on my knees and begged her to pray for me. Here was a woman missing half a foot, in ill health, raising three children – this woman knew more about love and life than what I didn’t know about life and love. I realized then and there that by coming in to this woman’s house as someone with something “to give” that I had actually exalted myself over her and that by “giving” without recognizing that she was actually the one with something to give, that I had actually “taken” some small part of her dignity. Now then whether or not she actually felt I had taken her dignity, I'll never know, but I certainly felt as though I had, and resolved to never to let it happen again. Actually, in an effort to ensure that it doesn't, I have just sworn off helping anyone, ever.
Well not really, but the realization that night has heavily influenced my thinking since, I have never forgotten that lady. I don’t want that night to prevent me from reaching out, but when I do reach out; I want to do it with humility. I want to receive and in the process give dignity. I have come in part to the following conclusions. Conclusions that become more and more relevant every day:
a)Results matter more than intentions
b)The ends do not justify the means
c)It is possible to give and yet take in the process
d)Jesus’ instructions to us regarding those in need are as much for our benefit as they are for the benefit of those in need. Recognizing this is crucial to understand as we go into giving situations. When we give we should also receive in a way that gives dignity to the recipient by acknowledging that they too as a child of God have something to give us.
e)Doing the right thing sometimes makes you feel terrible and so I’ve got to ask myself, “am I doing this because it is the right thing to do or because it makes me feel good about myself?”
For example, consider the following verse from the New Testament “if a man will not work, he shall not eat.” This rule if followed absolutely serves to protect society from leeches but it wasn’t until recently that I realized that this rule is just as much about the protection of the man who does not work as it is for the society in which he lives. It is a brilliant recognition of human nature. Everybody has some area in their life in which they will repeatedly slack if not challenged. For some people this area happens to be work. Without loving people to challenge us (spouse, parent, friend) in these areas we will slide into our personal lowest common denominator and live in perpetual underachievement. So when presented with an underachieving loved one or a lazy man the choice becomes, do I do what makes me feel good or do I do what in the short term will make us both feel miserable but in the long run create a great good?
f)Just as there are things that look good that actually produce negative results, there are things that appear harsh that actually produce good results.
Althought they sound alike, this is more of a political revelation while the previous point was more of a personal one. The hard way is the right way. I think about this nearly daily as I watch those who would be king do their best to make us forget it.
These are not groundbreaking revelations I know, but bear with me, I am a slow learner, and their freshness to me means they are still exciting. I am still trying to figure it all out, and would appreciate your thoughts on the topic.
“When social service is performed out of a sense of guilt, the inevitable result is chaos.”
- The Reverend Jimmy Carter
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Violent Beauty
There is a spot on State Highway 101 northwest of Fort Worth where the road runs like a spine between two quarries. I love driving along that road between the deep pits, a place where late at night you can almost smell the sweat of a thousand men. The history of the place is palpable, it's almost as if Dallas and Fort Worth were pulled whole out of the ground and plopped down 30 miles to the south and east.
A rock quarry is a violent place, the rock is blown to pieces which are then crushed in a large rotating drum, run along a belt according to size, dumped in a pile and then scooped up and dropped in a dump truck for delivery to a construction site somewhere. All of this activity creates a lot of noise, dust, and movement; non-stop movement. Dump trucks the size of houses run in perpetual motion, the belts never stop spitting out rock, and the front end loaders dance and spin (smash into the pile, reverse half circle, forward, dump, reverse, half circle forward, grab your partner do-si-do) to the chorus and hum of hungry lines of trucks and trains waiting to be filled.
But a rock quarry is also an incredibly beautiful place full of color and impressive geometry. The clean lines of the white limestone walls, the veins running at angles through the rock, the shapes of the piles, the deep blues and greens of the water in flooded pits. Then there are the deer, cattle, wild boar, goats, vultures, snakes, herons and various other crittters that make their home in hidden and long forgotten corners of the property. And all of this as sun and shadow paint their constantly evolving work across the towering rock faces. Finally, there is something timelessly beautiful about rock and when I grab a handful of it and run my thumb over the smooth surfaces I am reminded of the line from St. Patrick's Breastplate:
"I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock."
Here are some pictures that will give you a glimpse into this wonderful and violent world that we get to watch unfold through the eyepiece of our lasers. Notice the deep veins running through the rock in photo #3. Photo #4 taken by Bobby Forehand.
A rock quarry is a violent place, the rock is blown to pieces which are then crushed in a large rotating drum, run along a belt according to size, dumped in a pile and then scooped up and dropped in a dump truck for delivery to a construction site somewhere. All of this activity creates a lot of noise, dust, and movement; non-stop movement. Dump trucks the size of houses run in perpetual motion, the belts never stop spitting out rock, and the front end loaders dance and spin (smash into the pile, reverse half circle, forward, dump, reverse, half circle forward, grab your partner do-si-do) to the chorus and hum of hungry lines of trucks and trains waiting to be filled.
But a rock quarry is also an incredibly beautiful place full of color and impressive geometry. The clean lines of the white limestone walls, the veins running at angles through the rock, the shapes of the piles, the deep blues and greens of the water in flooded pits. Then there are the deer, cattle, wild boar, goats, vultures, snakes, herons and various other crittters that make their home in hidden and long forgotten corners of the property. And all of this as sun and shadow paint their constantly evolving work across the towering rock faces. Finally, there is something timelessly beautiful about rock and when I grab a handful of it and run my thumb over the smooth surfaces I am reminded of the line from St. Patrick's Breastplate:
"I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock."
Here are some pictures that will give you a glimpse into this wonderful and violent world that we get to watch unfold through the eyepiece of our lasers. Notice the deep veins running through the rock in photo #3. Photo #4 taken by Bobby Forehand.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Glenn Beck on Huckabee
This guy cracks me up. He reminds me of my brother Josh. Here are his thoughts last night on Huckabee. (Background: He had surgery last week and is still recovering which is why he keeps refering to pain medication)
I really don't want to become a political blog so don't worry this won't last much longer.
The Iowa Caucuses
The street in front of our house was jammed with cars and people tonight as I headed out towards my caucus site. There were two caucus sites between my house and the school where I ended up casting my vote and my excitement grew as I passed group after group of people walking with the cartoonish urgency that can only come on a cold night. I was so excited to live in a country where I was free to participate in an election process without fear of violence or doctored results.
The Republicans in my district gathered in a local middle school cafeteria. I sat down at a table after arriving roughly 20 minutes early and studied the crowd of nearly 90 people. There were only two people under the age of 30, which I took as a good sign, I mean honestly, when I was 18 I liked Bill Clinton solely because his theme song was Fleetwood Macs' Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow. There were a few people in their forties, quite a few of us in our thirties and fifties, while the majority of the crowd was over sixty. Male female broke down to roughly 60 % male, 40 % female. Most of the crowd looked like they were very hard working, moving with the purposeful economy of motion common to those who need to save their energy for a long day coming. There were more than a few Carharts in the crowd, the instantly recognizable winter wear of the working man.
Most people spent the extra time trying to talk their seatmates into or out of various candidates. I was seated with two other gentlemen who knew they would be voting in the minority. All three of us shared a negative view of the eventual winner, Mike Huckabee.
After we all recited the pledge of allegiance, the emcee asked for a representative of each candidate to speak for roughly 3-4 minutes on why we should vote for his or her candidate. A friend of Fred Thompson’s spoke on his behalf, a woman from the crowd (small business owner) spoke brilliantly on behalf of Ron Paul, a young man spoke for Mike Huckabee, and three people from the crowd spoke on John McCain’s behalf. One of the people speaking for John McCain was an elderly woman whose husband had also been a prisoner of war. After each speech the crowd applauded, no one spoke on behalf of Romney, Guliani, or Duncan Hunter. Then paper ballots were passed out and we voted. The ballots were collected and a supporter from each candidate was called up to supervise the vote tally. As a man read aloud from each ballot, the emcee put a mark next to the name of the candidate receiving the vote on a large white tablet. The word Huckabee, repeated in a monotonous drone, bounced off my forehead 34 times like some audio version of Chinese water torture, by the end I had to resist the urge to stand up and scream, “You idiots! You lemmings!” Coming in second was Fred Thompson with 18 votes, tied for third with 12 each were Ron Paul and Mitt Romney, John McCain had 11 votes and Guliani although ahead of Hunter walked away with only one vote.
My choice came down to voting against Huckabee by voting for Romney, voting against the Government by voting for Ron Paul, or voting for conservative principals by voting for Fred Thompson. I wrestled with this for days, but eventually decided that for once in my life I would like to vote for something instead of the usual vote against the worse of the two candidates. So I voted for Thompson, a guy who doesn’t really act like he wants to be President, but who is for a limited government. And as long as I’m keeping things on the optimistic side, I would like to say I’m positive that Mike Huckabee would be a horrible candidate for President.
The Republicans in my district gathered in a local middle school cafeteria. I sat down at a table after arriving roughly 20 minutes early and studied the crowd of nearly 90 people. There were only two people under the age of 30, which I took as a good sign, I mean honestly, when I was 18 I liked Bill Clinton solely because his theme song was Fleetwood Macs' Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow. There were a few people in their forties, quite a few of us in our thirties and fifties, while the majority of the crowd was over sixty. Male female broke down to roughly 60 % male, 40 % female. Most of the crowd looked like they were very hard working, moving with the purposeful economy of motion common to those who need to save their energy for a long day coming. There were more than a few Carharts in the crowd, the instantly recognizable winter wear of the working man.
Most people spent the extra time trying to talk their seatmates into or out of various candidates. I was seated with two other gentlemen who knew they would be voting in the minority. All three of us shared a negative view of the eventual winner, Mike Huckabee.
After we all recited the pledge of allegiance, the emcee asked for a representative of each candidate to speak for roughly 3-4 minutes on why we should vote for his or her candidate. A friend of Fred Thompson’s spoke on his behalf, a woman from the crowd (small business owner) spoke brilliantly on behalf of Ron Paul, a young man spoke for Mike Huckabee, and three people from the crowd spoke on John McCain’s behalf. One of the people speaking for John McCain was an elderly woman whose husband had also been a prisoner of war. After each speech the crowd applauded, no one spoke on behalf of Romney, Guliani, or Duncan Hunter. Then paper ballots were passed out and we voted. The ballots were collected and a supporter from each candidate was called up to supervise the vote tally. As a man read aloud from each ballot, the emcee put a mark next to the name of the candidate receiving the vote on a large white tablet. The word Huckabee, repeated in a monotonous drone, bounced off my forehead 34 times like some audio version of Chinese water torture, by the end I had to resist the urge to stand up and scream, “You idiots! You lemmings!” Coming in second was Fred Thompson with 18 votes, tied for third with 12 each were Ron Paul and Mitt Romney, John McCain had 11 votes and Guliani although ahead of Hunter walked away with only one vote.
My choice came down to voting against Huckabee by voting for Romney, voting against the Government by voting for Ron Paul, or voting for conservative principals by voting for Fred Thompson. I wrestled with this for days, but eventually decided that for once in my life I would like to vote for something instead of the usual vote against the worse of the two candidates. So I voted for Thompson, a guy who doesn’t really act like he wants to be President, but who is for a limited government. And as long as I’m keeping things on the optimistic side, I would like to say I’m positive that Mike Huckabee would be a horrible candidate for President.
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