After an evening with Ben for the Roomful of Teeth concert at Schwab Auditorium, a lunchtime with Ernest yesterday, and a long campus walk with Mark last night, I reported to the Rookes that Carla says I abuse introverts. I hope it’s not true. Lord, may I be slow to speak.
Baby, I need your lovin' Got to have all your lovin'
— The Four Tops
I woke up with these lines in my head yesterday morning. They were not accompanied by any assurance that they were from God. Perhaps I should stop noting the ones I’m not sure about, lest I give the impression that I’m suffering from severe confirmation bias.
Yet there is no reason to not make something good of this delivery from my subconscious mind: God wants all my loving. Actually, to be more precise, my first, most prophetic-sounding idea from this lyric was one of keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, not frittering my attention on wasteful, lustful, unloving. It’s basically a reiteration of [1 Corinthians 16:14](1 Corinthians 16:14).
We are ready to send Everett and Oak home. But we’re not. I’m sure these are the typical feelings of a foster parent. Life is going to be different. Quieter. This evening without them because they’re with Mommy and Daddy makes that sure. But as Everett would surely reciprocate, “I will miss you, Everett.” And I will miss you, Oak. We still have three weeks with them, so let’s make them count.
We asked Éa and Sullivan today whether they’d like to foster again. Sullivan said, “I’d like a year.” And Éa said, “Yeah, in like, five thousand weeks.”
A home is fuller if you’re stretched for the sake of relationships. Let us dig in to more people. Let us “love [our] enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35). Then I will live without regret.
Carla has been peevish recently. But so have I. It’s a cycle. I realized one way to break the cycle is to drop my expectation that anyone, including my wife and kids, act perfectly lovingly all the time. I don’t, so why should I expect them to?
I’ll go further: When a demand is made of me or a disagreement voiced, let my first instinct be to satisfy the demand or come to accord quickly and happily. Obviously, I won’t be a pushover, but I will be a volunteer, a happy second-miler.
As this first day of my sprint toward getting a minimum viable website up for Frank and PolyGreen America ends, I am reminded that hobbies are happiest when they are not only enjoyable, but also seen as a form of generosity. In the case of web-development-on-the-side-that-disturbs-my-schedule-equilibirum, the enjoyment is possible only when I view it as such.
So Lord, let me renew that vantage on this work—and all work, really.
If, when I’m old, you were to ask me to tell you one thing about my life as it was today, I predict I’d tell you it was I day I think—I hope—I turned a corner in my character. You see, since screening the finale of the second season of Gatiss & Moffatt’s Sherlock this past Saturday, entitled “The Reichenbach Fall” (and probably a good bit before then), I had been obsessing over the show: obsessing about its plot, obsessing about its characters, obsessing about its actors, and obsessing about its writers. I was obsessing about my decision to stop watching it because of my obsession.
I needed to be rescued from all this.
And it’s more than Sherlock: In recent months, I have spent far too much time and attention setting up operating systems, selecting an iPhone case, and other such minutiae. I prioritize trivialities. And it robs me of life (and steals from DiamondBack).
We have overcome perfectionism. We have overcome stoniness. We have overcome self-distraction at work. We have overcome religious doubt. (All of the above are still works in progress, but they are works well on their way with clear paths to completion.) Perhaps now we can take on obsessiveness and the resulting misprioritization.
Deliberation, yes: You do that about problems and decisions. Cogitation, yes: You do that about profundities. Obsession, no: You do that, by definition, with things you ought not to. And I know what it feels like.
If you’re going to obsess about anything, do it about giving yourself for the benefit of other people.
If, when I’m old, you were to ask me to tell you one thing about my life as it was today, I predict I’d tell you we had our 72-year-old next-door neighbor Janet Donald over for leftover Stilson rotini dinner, homemade quick bread, a thirteen-year-old shiraz Janet had donated to us a month prior for Carla’s birthday, and some after-dinner Dixit at the kids’ prompting, all while piano jazz played on Spotify and the thermostat was set to a balmy 67°F.
I told her I love having her over.
Did I say it because I love the feeling of moral pride it gives me to know I have my aged next-door neighbor over for dinner and counter her as a friend? In part, yes. But I also said it because I really do like her.
“Now you together are the Messiah’s body” (1 Corinthians 12:27, KNT). In other words, I extrapolate, we are how Jesus acts on this earth.
Jesus hung out with rejects on purpose.
That porthole has taken on new meaning: Friends. It gratifies me to no end to contemplate how faithful my friends were to me. How when I needed them (Carla, Sullivan, Janet, the Rookes), they were there. My physical suffering, like my doubt-borne anguish last month, becomes a reason for thanksgiving: I have friends who love me.
A call-and-response greeting for Thanksgiving that came out of a brief SMS exchange with Daniel Perea today in which he expressed confusion about what greeting to give on Thanksgiving: “Give thanks to the Lord / for He is good / and His love endures forever.”
How do good things in the ekklesia end up going bad? Often the road to corruption is paved with stones of well-intended pragmatism. Virtue is not always practical, nor profitable. Love is not pragmatic. There is no love column on a profit-loss statement or a balance sheet. Love cannot be analyzed. Love can be entered in to. Doing what is right does not always have an immediate practical outcome of benefit. When a spirit of pragmatism enters a community (especially regarding money) little incremental steps are taken choosing the practical and the profitable over the virtuous and honorable. Those little bricks of making pragmatism our God, pave the highway to corruption. Pragmatism wants to assure that a course of action turns out well for me/mine and ours. Love wants to make sure it turns out well for others, even if it costs me/us.
“For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything, but faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6). That’s the only faith worth having. And it’s the only faith I can have through some of this terrifically doubtful season. Specific religious practice is questionable. Faith expressed in love is not.
It’s nice to work in a place where it’s not weird when your colleagues close your call with “Love you.”
“Everywhere in the Bible you see God saying that his aim is his own glory, see love. For only this will satisfy our souls.”
I often put my hand over my heart when You and I go for strolls these days. I hope that means I love You, and not merely that I’ve adopted an affectation of loving You.
Deeds will tell, I suppose.
Esprit d’escalier after a Spring-Creek-Park conversation about a friend’s experience with You, God, since a conference at Life Center back in February:
“Friend, I realize in retrospect that the reason for my muted reaction to your account of what God has done for you this past year was not jealousy or my own lack of similar experience: It was simply that what you were telling me was news Ethan has been sharing with me repeatedly since you encountered God so powerfully last February. I do remember rejoicing when I first heard the news. I praise God for it.
“It’s true that I don’t know what to say when speaking directly with someone describing an experience such as yours, because it’s true that I haven’t had much in the way of similar experience. But then, my heart is filled with peace and joy and light and has been—increasingly so—since my adolescence. Just because I’m not effervescent about Christ doesn’t mean I don’t love Him. I do always want to love Him with more of me, but I don’t need a powerful encounter to galvanize my love. Though to my limited understanding, it would be nice, for sure.
“On the subject of me finding it hard to get excited about the Gospel because I don’t understand it, perhaps an analogy will do: When you say Jesus showed His love for me when He allowed Himself to be executed by the Romans and Jews, I hear something akin to if Carla came to me and said, “Scott, I love you so much that I built an underground calliope that shoots chipmunks out of each pipe but only when you play in the key of B♭(my favorite key) so that when I want to see you and embrace, all I have to do is play a B♭ major chord to dispatch to chipmunks, who will run to tell you so.” If I don’t understand how you making an subterranean steam organ could mean ‘I love you,’ you won’t appreciate my love. If it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make heart. You can’t tell me to stop trying to understand it, I don’t think.”
“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law” (Galatians 3:13a).
Jesus be like, “S’alright. I got this.” And boom, with his execution, fulfills the requirements of the Law once and for all so that we don’t have to worry about it.
No, really. Paul writes that He bought us off a lender who was on our backs. You don’t need to do anything to inherit eternal life. He paid your ticket.
Brandon had us take a Five Love Languages (In The Workplace) test today. My primary language “for feeling appreciated in the work setting is by having others communicate their appreciation for him verbally…in addition, [I] actually [have] two secondary languages of appreciation. One way that he receives encouragement and is motivated is by spending quality time with those he values…an additional way that Scott receives encouragement and is motivated is by receiving gifts…Scott’s lowest language for feeling appreciated in the work setting is by having others help him with projects he is working on. As a result, attempts to motivate or encourage Scott by doing tasks for him will generally not be that effective.”
Doubt has humbled me and made more sympathetic. I could also swear it has made me more patient and loving with my family.
In the Clover Highlands during my prayer-walk today, I came away with this: The people in front of you at any given moment are the most interesting, fascinating people in the world. Certainly more interesting than myself. Act—and listen—accordingly.
An unfinished verse about the problem of divine hiddenness
O, invisible God, whom I cannot see,
Please, please reveal Yourself to me.
I don’t understand what you gain by hiding,
Blah-biddy blah, biddy-blah biddy fighting.
But I know You are love, if you are anything all,
Blah-biddy blah, biddy-blah biddy fall. ✏️ 🎤 🎵
A simple experiment in making friends (and thus a community): Let’s gather for a potluck dinner on the second and fourth Thursday evenings of each month.
Open to anyone living in Houserville, Bathgate Springs, Clover Highlands—anyone at all, really, but intended for folks for whom, say, Spring Creek Park is a walkable destination.
“What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured” (Kurt Vonnegut).
This write-up of mine describing the Houserville Social Club on the potluck sign-up sheet on SignUp Genius and the accompanying Vonnegut quote has taken on increasing value in my life recently. As if it really is my mission. Maybe it’s Robin Williams’ death and the admissions of depression that are being published everywhere in its wake that has helped galvanize it.
After an evening with the Houserville Social Club that included a LifeFlight helicopter takeoff, new friends Janine & Kimberly joining us at the table, Wengyi signing up for the email list, a game of cups (frickets) played heartily with Carla, Lara, and the kids, then more dowel/disc/cup fun with just the kids, I find further peace in my current station. I am a:
- lover of God,
- husband,
- father,
- brother,
- son,
- dilettante,
- DiamondBack Truck Covers desk jockey,
- church member,
- neighbor,
- community organizer,
- someday adopter of children in need,
- helper of the cause of the Gospel in the Maldives,
- prayer warrior,
- and patient, skilled, act-ive lover of anyone who happens to be around me at any time, regardless of socioeconomic class, IQ, or other human differentiator.
The list above is enough of an identity and set of pursuits to satisfy this hungry-for-meaning soul. I need do no other “great” things. If I fulfill my roles above with all my might (the specific, mutable ones subject to Your redirection), I shall be happy, and I shall not blink on Judgment Day.
More importantly, I shall no longer be subject to judge-and-second-guess-myself day, which used to happen, like, every day of my life but now wanes in frequency until it shall soon disappear completely.
And as for my doubts and questions, whether You are a restrictivist, an inclusivist, a universalist, or even a religious figment, my life will be best lived if I live it as though You are completely real. My prayer is that my doubts have three effects: More sympathy, less dogma, especially toward my children, and more action, since faith-as-action is much more important than faith-as-specific-credence to Inclusivist Yahweh, and Restrictivist Yahweh seems to prefer action as well.
I’ve written it before: I am going to live my ordinary life in an extraordinary way: Rejoicing always, praying without ceasing, giving thanks in all circumstances, in humility of mind regarding those around me as more important than myself, loving You with all my heart, mind, soul and strength in my quotidian. I guarantee the non-quotidian will follow from there.