Unplugging

Ah, blog world, it has been a while since I have last visited you.

I've been in New Hampshire for the last few weeks (there and back again multiple times)... I apologize for my delinquency. I promise, I do still love you.

But, at the same time, this past week in New Hampshire, without internet connection, without really having cell phone service, and being unable to watch television or even really listen to the news, I was struck by one simple fact:

I survived. Not even just survived, but I thrived.

I had real conversations, played games with live people, and spent a whole heck of a lot more time relationally than I do when I'm "back in civilization." Sure, I might have missed out on a couple important emails. I might have missed a few key phone calls. And, heavens to mergatroit, I might have actually missed a few facebook status updates. But, at the end of the day, was I really any worse off, having taken a week virtually unplugged?!

Here's my thought: what if we unplugged a little more often?

What if we were to invest in real relationships instead of virtual ones? What if we controlled our relationships with our technology rather than letting it control us? Not to say that we should never use technology. Not to say that we need to give up facebook, email, or cell phones. But what if we limited our relationship with it to perhaps the "open relationship" status, perhaps also engaging in real relationships?

And if you really really need another reason, my guess is that your number of facebook friends would also increase, as you spend more time with "real" friends.

Holy weeping

I haven't really cried in a few weeks now. The last time was in my kitchen in Carrboro, a few days before I was set to move. I'm not too big on the tear shedding business, unless I'm tired, angry, truly sad, or hormonal. Occasionally truly moving scenes in movies or books will get me as well. Case in point: I ALWAYS cry when Maximus dies in "Gladiator" and when Sarah returns home in "Redeeming Love." But, as a general rule, I rarely water the earth with my own in-house produced salty droplets.

But this morning, I was reading Nehemiah 1, and I started thinking about shedding tears on a different level. In Nehemiah 1, Nehemiah inquires about the fate of his people and hears (1:3) that

"Those who survived the exile and are back in the province are in great trouble and disgrace. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been burned with fire."

Upon hearing this, Nehemiah's first reaction (1:4) is, "... I sat down and wept. For some days, I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven."

In other words, Nehemiah sees the brokenness and disarray of his people, and his first reaction is mourning and prayer. He recognizes that things are not as they should be and he weeps. His face gets streaked with tears and dirt and nasty snot, his dignity is gone, he might even have gotten hiccups. His heart breaks for the fate of his people, and that drives him to his knees before God. He recognizes that his people were made for something better, and he weeps out of holy longing for restoration and a deep sadness for their brokenness.

And my question is: What makes our hearts break? Do we weep for the brokenness that we see? Or is our dignity more valuable? Our apathy greater? Our self-centered nature blinding? Our expectation of wholeness insufficient?

Do we weep for brokenness, or just sigh and say, "That's just the way it is"?

God gave us tear ducts for a reason: there is such a thing as holy weeping, holy mourning.

Catechism of cross-gendered relations

When we hit our early to mid-twenties, the Heidelberg Catechism seems to be put aside for a new book of catechisms. It must be mandatory reading for everyone older than the mid-twenties, as everyone older than me seems to be asking them.

First, we begin with modified versions of "what do you want to be when you grow up?" which mount in intensity the longer it takes for you to pick a major, job, source of income. Once you've settled on a source of financial prosperity, then the questions move into "Are you dating anyone?" which, when answered in the affirmative, proceeds into "So, do you think you'll get married?" or, if answered with a negative, then the statement, "Oh, well I know this great girl/guy who I think you would really like!" spontaneously ushers forth from the mouth of the caring and well-intentioned individual. If you are already married, then the questions tend to center around procreation... and how soon you intend to do it.

And these questions drive me crazier than a blind cat with catnip tied to its tail. Allow me to explain.

See, I think there are some good solid Biblical roots to these questions... for example:

• Genesis 2:18, God says, "...It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." and then God does just that, creating woman.
• Genesis 1:28, God tells man, "... Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it." A few chapters later, Adam and Eve get jiggy and comply with this command.

The focus on marriage, job, and procreation is ultimately from a well-intentioned source. As humans, we were made for companionship. We were given work in the garden, and that was a good thing. Being fruitful and multiplying certainly keeps the human race in business a little bit longer. Good things.

But, unfortunately, I think it also has an unhealthy and unintentional side-effect: it leads to unhealthy cross-gender relationships, because we are so focused on what "could be" as opposed to the friendship that is now. We are constantly sizing the other up, constantly wondering, "could this be..." As a result, friendships stagnate over the potential of more. Questions such as "does she like me" or "yikes, I think he's into me" cause real relationships to falter.

And yes, I understand the need to be cautious about appearances. Yes, I know that you don't want to lead anyone on. But my suggestion to you is... could we not potentially address all of those concerns by just being honest? real? open? Seriously. Wow. Such a radical concept.

But let me press this a little bit further and actually get to my point. News flash: men and women are different. Shocker. But, not only are men and women different, but they are different in complimentary ways. Meaning, men and women, we need each other.

But here's where the church often gets tripped up: complementarity does not necessarily mean that we need to get married right away. While marriage is a great thing, and I thoroughly intend to enjoy it one of these days, we are also given the blessing of complementarity in non-sexual relationships. And I'll even be bold enough to say:

Men, you need female friends. Women, you need male friends.

And by focusing so entirely on the sexual complementarity, and future complementarity, we often miss out on real relationships, real friendships here and now.

So here's my challenge: can we take off the lens of the future? Committed to honesty and straightforward dialogue, can we begin to engage in healthy cross-gendered relationships, which don't rule out the option of future relationships, but aren't so focused on them that we cut off our noses to spite our faces?

And the first thing to go has got to be the catechism...

Basking in Being Small

Just got back from 5 days at New England regional staff conference and am attempting to process all my thoughts on vision, direction, mission, core conglomerates, definitions, theories, structures, remembering the names of the 10 gazillion people that I meet, and oh yeah, what figuring out what I'm supposed to do next... And, at times, it can feel a tad bit overwhelming. Okay, a lot overwhelming. There is so much that needs to be done and so little time to do it all. The perfectionist, achievementalist, realist in me is attempting to bungee jump off of the precipice that it feels like I am quickly approaching...

After regionals, some new friends and I went on a hike up Mount Monadnock, the most hiked mountain in the USA... this is one of the pictures that we took:



But as I looked at this gorgeous picture, what struck me most was how incredibly small we appeared (I'm the dot on the left). Next to the mountains, we were nothing. Scripture says similar things about the mountains' size compared to God:

The mountains quaked before the LORD, the One of Sinai, before the LORD, the God of Israel. (Judges 5:5)

Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:2)

And in that moment, I realized, it's ok to be small. It's ok to be weak. It's ok to be inept. Because God is a big God. And He is bigger, stronger, and much more able than anything else that I will ever face. And when he is with us, there is nothing to fear.

Lessons from the Road

Well, dear friends, I have arrived.

After 1000 miles in the car, 14 hours spent talking to myself (or other drivers), more of interstate 95 than I ever hoped to experience, and unthinkably many cups of coffee, I pulled into Boston, Massachusetts. I'm still working on learning how to spell Massachusetts without the aid of spell-check, so please forgive me if the full-drawn-out-version appears multiple times in this post. Regardless. Hi. Welcome to my life. Lessons from the road?

You are more like to get stared at if you wear sunglasses: people somehow think that if they cannot see your eyes, then you cannot see them, ergo it is perfectly a-okay to stare for as long as they like. This principle applies on-road and off.

In Connecticut (yay, spelled it correctly!), littering costs $219 dollars. Not $215, not $220: $219. Please don't ask me why, I'm not quite sure.

A seeing-eye parrot? Really now? I was hanging out in a rest stop on the border of Maryland and Delaware when a lady strolls out of the rest-stop with a full-sized parrot on her shoulder. And by full-sized, I mean at least 2 feet from tail to beak. And bright blue. And alive and talking. Like whoa. And since the rest stop had pretty strict animal policies, as in, limited to aid-animals, I can only deduce that this must have in fact been a seeing-eye parrot. Or perhaps a member of the missing-link family?

Never, ever, ever, and by that I mean never, drive into New York City. Especially not during rush hour. Especially not through the Lincoln Tunnel. Enough said. Three hours, three miles later, I realized my mistake.

The value of the turn signal. When one is driving in the south, often times the turn-signal is an unneeded-extra. There are turn lanes, guarded left-turn lights, and frankly, just not that many cars on the road. Here, however, where drivers multiply by the millions, aggressiveness quadruples, and driving prowess also increases, turn signals become quite dear friends. This, you will note, is also the difference between NYC drivers and Boston drivers: Boston drivers signal, and then cut you off; NYC drivers just cut you off.

But all that aside, the drive was fairly smooth, and I arrived in Boston in one piece!

M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U-S-E-T-T-S.