In The Dust

A couple years ago, I went to my grandparents' house in Ohio for Thanksgiving. At the time, my grandma was suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease. As far as I can understand it, this is a disease of the nervous system where the body shuts down bit by bit. By the time I got there that November, my grandma couldn't walk or anything. My grandpa would pick her up from her bed every morning and put her in her chair, where she'd sit till he put her back in bed at night. Also, since she couldn't control all the muscles and stuff in her throat the right way, it was really hard for her to talk, and she could hardly eat anything. So she got really, really tiny, pretty much just skin and bones. It was evident when I was there that she wasn't going to make it much longer.

On Thanksgiving, my grandma started getting a little upset after dinner. I imagine it was because she knew this was the last time she would see me and my cousins all together at once. I remember after dinner, she just began to cry and cry and cry, and the sobs wracked her small, weakened frame. And I wasn't sure how to react. She was one of the kindest, most loving people I have ever met. It wasn't fair for her to suffer like this. To undergo such a slow, painful death and have to be so, so sad.

That night I was reading a chapter of Lamentations. Lamentations is written by Jeremiah and is all about the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians. And that night, as I was filled with such sadness, frustrated by all the crappy things that I could nothing about, I came across Lamentations 3:28-32:

Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust--there may yet be hope. Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him, and let him be filled with disgrace. For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.

Here's what struck me about this passage. Jeremiah is watching his homeland being demolished and his friends and countrymen being dragged off as captives to Babylon. And what he essentially says in the first bit of this is, "Be sad!" So often as Christians, we think, "There's no room for sadness in my life! I'm supposed to be filled with joy! I need to look peppy and happy all the time, or there must be something wrong with my faith!" So when something truly bad happens, our solution is to push our real emotions beneath the surface, keep our chin up, and act like everything is A-OK. But that's not how Jeremiah reacts. He laments. He sits in silence and buries his face in the dirt. He's upset, and he expresses it.

Crappy things happen, and they suck and they're worth getting upset about. Grandmothers get sick. Parents get divorced. Fathers lose their jobs. Kids are taken captive as slaves in Asia. Relationships fall apart. AIDS rips through a continent. Mothers die.

Jerusalem gets destroyed.

So be sad. When these things happen, we don't have to pretend that it bounces off our denial-plated armor. Cry. Punch your pillow. Strum your guitar till blisters cover your fingers. Open your window and shout at the clouds. When crap happens, by all means, by sad.

But don't despair. That's where the difference is. Lamentations is all about being sad. It's about weeping and crying out at the bad things that happen. But it's not about hopelessness. Sorrow lasts for a time. We need to remember that in the midst of our sadness, God is there. When we fall facedown in the mud, he's ready to pick us back up. "For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love." God is there in our sorrow. And he's there in our happiness. While circumstances aren't constant, while our emotions definitely aren't constant, he is constant. It's okay to be upset at the right things and to express that emotion. But we shouldn't remain there. We need to allow God to comfort us and steady us and strengthen us to face life again. In the 1300's, Julian of Norwich wrote, "It is profitable for some souls to experience these alterations of mood--sometimes to be comforted and sometimes to fail and to be left to themselves. God wills that we know that he keeps us ever equally safe, in woe as in well-being."

And I think Jeremiah would agree.

The Elusiveness of Originality

It's Christmas break!

Moving on, I've been thinking a little bit lately about just how difficult it is to think or do or say anything that is truly original. The world has been around a pretty long time. And there have been many, many people that are smarter and more talented and more creative than I am. So chances are, nothing I do is going to be something that a million others haven't already done. For example, a couple posts ago I wrote about my theory on time and about how time seems to move faster as we get older because it's a smaller percentage of our lives. Probably not a groundbreaking concept, but not a bad idea, I think. In the following several days, I was informed by two people (Jackie and Tom) that they too had thought about this. So if two of my five readers have already had this same idea, I can safely assume that 40% of the world's population has thought the same thing. So my theory on time is less original than eating turkey on Thanksgiving.

Also, our freshman year, Charlie wrote a line for a paper that was something along the lines of "Jesus was crucified for our salvation and resurrected for our hope." It's a good quote. Really good, actually. So I jokingly questioned that Charlie had thought of it himself. When we googled it, we found that someone else had already said pretty much the exact same thing. Now I really don't think that Charlie stole the sentence. Someone had just unfortunately beat him to the punch.

However, there are some people that truly do come up with original ideas and who are genuinely creative in a way the world has never seen before. At some point, Eli Whitney had to sit down and invent the cotton gin. Beethoven had to write his symphonies. Dave Thomas had to create square hamburger patties. These people were pioneers. Whereas I recycle decades-old ideas on my blog, they brought something new and fresh to society. So to all you writers, artists, musicians, inventors, and everyone else that churn out original ideas: I salute you. I mean, without you, television would just be filled with the same, ridiculous reality dating shows where one dude dates twenty women until he eliminates all but one.

Oh wait. I guess that's really all that's on TV. My bad.

Gimp

I hurt my knee playing basketball last week. I've had to tell the story a lot over the past few days, so I'm going to put it up here so that I won't have to later tell it again to my five readers. I played basketball last Monday, which was fine, but the next day my right knee felt really tight, but it didn't really inhibit anything I was doing. On Wednesday it felt a little better, so I played basketball again, and when we were almost done, I was on defense and tried to change direction. My knee decided that would be a good time to stop supporting my body, and it basically gave out on me and I went tumbling to the hardwood. It thereafter swelled up like a grapefruit and hurt and made it difficult to walk or do anything that required bending it. I saw our athletic trainer on Thursday, but she said that it was too swollen to really be able to tell what I did, so I'm seeing her again on Tuesday and we'll go from there. However, it is feeling significantly better now that it was at first, and I'm getting around a ton better. It only gives me real problems in certain activities, like getting in or out of a car or putting on my socks or sitting in a bathroom stall.

Now that that's all cleared up, there are a few things that I've been thinking about due to my bum leg. First, I've come to appreciate much more some of the things that I have. Way too often, I complain to myself or sometimes others about things I would change about myself. I mean, I wouldn't mind being a little stronger or having better eyesight or less puffy hair or being a better dance or less awkward around people. But I can usually walk alright, and I guess that's something to be thankful for, because there's a lot of people in the world that can't. I'm fortunate to generally be in good health, and never again will I complain about having to walk all the stairs on Ozark's campus, because at least I can walk them pain-free and without having to take one slow step at a time.

Also, I've come to realize how nice people around here are to injured friends. Not that they're only nice to others when they are hurt, but they are pretty nice in general, and I'm very thankful for that. Although it is imperfect, the community at Ozark really blows me away at times, and the last week has been such a time. Especially at first when I was hobbling around like I had a peg-leg, everyone was asking how I was doing and if I needed them to carry my lunch tray or get me a refill or drive me up the hill or whatever. And I usually didn't need anything. I mean, I could get from my seat to the soda machine and back without collapsing, but it was still encouraging that everyone was so willing to help me out. Also, I had a ton of people offering me all sorts of painkillers and other pills. So I guess I also go to a school full of drug-pushers.

Where these to realizations are connected, I guess, is that I really do have a lot to be thankful for. I have health and ability and resources that so many people in the world lack, and it would be awfully terrible of me to take them for granted. I'm also surrounded by tons of incredible people who really love others and want to serve Christ, and that is always an encouraging thing. Hopefully, however, it doesn't take another demolished joint for me to recognize the good things I have. I've learned all the lessons I care to learn by such object lessons.

Feast

Today is Thanksgiving, so as I sit here watching football and enjoying the aroma of turkey, stuffing, and pie, I feel a little obligated to write a little something about the day. I really do love Thanksgiving. When I was a kid, we would always go to my grandparents' in Ohio for it, and I remember getting up each time to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and then all these people would come over for the meal, and there were mashed potatoes abounding and Coke overflowing, and it was generally just a baller time. Now we just have Thanksgiving here in Kansas, which is still good. I still like the parade, though today I missed it because I slept till noon. Whoops.

Of course, the focal point of Thanksgiving is the feast. In a country where food is often treated like a god, Thanksgiving is like the chief Holy Day. In a few hours I'm going to pile my plate with all sorts of viddles, and then I'll top it off with some pie and spend the rest of my evening watching basketball.

Along these same lines, something that Thanksgiving does make me think about is the special place that meals possess in our lives. There's just something especially significant about sharing a meal with people. It's kind of an odd thing, maybe, or at least a little mystical. But think about it. Often, when people go on a date, they go to dinner. When there's a wedding, there's a meal. When families gather, there's a meal. Meals are where things happen. That's where people connect. It's where important things get said. The table is maybe the most important piece of furniture because that's where people get together to talk and relate and laugh and fellowship.

And that's what I love. When it comes to food, I don't have very high taste. I'm just as happy with chicken nuggets from Wendy's as I am with anything from a nicer restaurant. So when people are going to a "fancier" place (which, in my book, means that there's a waitress instead of an ordering counter), the food itself really isn't worth $10 or $12 dollars to me. However, getting to spend some quality time with the other people going is worth that, so that's why I go. At the heart, meals aren't really about food. They're about people. That's why, at Ozark, mealtimes are my favorite parts of the day. It's not because the food in the dining hall is so mouthwatering, but because that's where people are. I love being at those big long tables just listening to people talk and laugh. It's a joyful thing.

In Life Together, Bonhoeffer writes, "The fellowship of the table has a festive quality. It is a constantly recurring reminder in the midst of our everyday work of God’s resting after His work, of the Sabbath as the meaning and goal of the week and its toil." It's easy, during the day, to feel bogged down by everything that's going on in our lives. To feel stressed out or frustrated. So meals restore us; not only does the food refresh our bodies, but the fellowship refreshes our spirits.

One last thing. Whenever we're back in Topeka on a break, the Charlie, Jim, and I make it a point to have lunch at Spangle's. The food is delicious, and it's pretty cheap, so it works great for me. I love eating there, but it's more than that. When we're done with our food, we always end up staying there for at least another half hour. I think we've been pretty close to two hours before. And it's not like we have a ton of stuff to catch up on; we live with each other every day when we're at Ozark. But there's just something about being there with one another. And I value that highly.

So enjoy your Thanksgiving. Eat a lot. Spend time with your family and friends. Thank God for what he's given you. Pray for those in need. And take it all back with you, making it a part of your life. I don't think there's any reason to only be thankful and enjoy others' company over a meal once a year. Let's do it every day.

28 days till Christmas.

T-Town: Tulsa or Topeka?

It's Thanksgiving break!

Normally, I'm not a very big fan of breaks. It's always nice to not have to worry about schoolwork for a little while, but in general, I would rather be in Joplin than at home. I just usually get pretty bored here without all the people and things to do. However, I am very glad to be home for a bit. The past month at Ozark has been a little crazy, and I feel like I've been in the library doing research every day. But now all my big stuff is done for the semester, though I am going to be spending much of my break catching up on all the reading I haven't done because I was working on papers so much.

I went to the National Missionary Convention in Tulsa the past few days. I had never gone before, and I really liked it. A few thoughts:

First, the convention really made me appreciate the community of the church. It was crazy walking around and seeing all these people I know from all over the place. Obviously, I saw a ton of fellow Ozark students, because there's always a lot that go, and it was only two hours from Joplin this year. But I also saw some people who used to go Ozark. I saw people from other camp teams that I met over the summer, even people I met from the Northwest. Even Jessica from Pentecostal camp. And I saw old ministers. And people from Bible Bowl. And it all made me realize just how small of a world the church is. Not to mean that it's too small is needs to grow (which I suppose it does), but it's pretty incredible all the connections you can make as a member of it. I've been to that North American Christian Convention a lot, but it was pretty much always for the Bible Bowl tournament. But I know that when we've gone, my dad always runs into people he randomly knows from going to Milligan or just by being active in the church for so long. Now, as a supposed "adult" in the Christian community, I'm kind of in the same place, and I think it's pretty awesome. It was good to see everyone, and I look forward to seeing them all again in the future.

Second, I was amazed and humbled by so many of the stories I heard at the convention. There were so many spiritual giants there. It's almost like I don't even belong in the same room. I especially liked listening to Ash Barker on Saturday night. This guy lives in the slums of Bangkok in a house the size of four double beds. I mean, he lives there. I live in a dorm room bigger than that, and I'm in college. And he just one of many people at the convention that do things like that. At times, people think I'm "spiritual" because I know a lot about the Bible or can write good exegeticals or whatever. But I'm nothing compared to these people who voluntarily live in such poverty to reach out to people the rest of the world tosses aside. It's absolutely incredible, and I learned so much and was challenged and inspired all the time while in Tulsa.

So if you haven't been to the NMC, or even if you have I guess, you should go. I'm not going to be a foreign missionary as far as I know, but every Christian should be pretty interested in missions, I think. God wants us to tell people about him, whether it's in Joplin or Topeka or Buffalo or Chicago or Moscow or Bangkok or Nairobi.

The Bloggolution has expanded with the addition of Blake's blog. Check-a it out.

Time Flies

I received a lot of nice compliments about my post that I wrote last week. People saying it was really funny or brilliant or whatever. So thank you for all that. I also heard people say that it was really sad and that they feel bad for me. And that's okay, I guess. But there is something that I thought was fairly interesting. Normally, for whatever reason, I write about something that is somewhat serious, and I put a lot of thought into it and try to make it good. And every once in a while, someone will say, "Hey, I read your blog, and I thought it was really good." But when I write something completely ridiculous, I get more comments than about anything else I have written in my life. So maybe I should stop writing about worthwhile things, and start just commenting on all the unfortunate aspects of my life, because I guess people really like to hear about that.

I really don't have much to write about right now. Things at school are going pretty well, but busy, and I've been in the library a lot. It's becoming very dear to my heart. I may just set up a cot in the periodical section and stay there. And every night, before I go to bed, I'll read a few articles of the Evangelical Review of Theology or something. And everyone on campus will be talking about the periodical hermit, and they'll come look at me from a distance and make remarks about my long dirty hair and the burlap sacks that I wear for clothes.

But putting all jest aside, there is a thought that I've had for awhile, and I've shared it with a few people. It's not very interesting, and I'm sure it's not original, and there's definitely no application point to be gained from it. But it's my theory about how time works.

Today is November 15. I have only two more weeks of regular class, and then finals, and then the semester is over. At that point, I will be halfway done with my college career. And it feels like just yesterday, I was setting up my dorm room my freshman year and eating chicken parmesan for my first meal in the dining hall. All the time, I hear people saying things like, "Man, this semester has gone so fast." And it's true. Every semester, every year, seems like it's shorter than the one before it. What causes this phenomenon? Does time actually accelerate?

I think that the reason each period of time feels like it's shorter than the ones before it is because, as we get older, that amount of time is a smaller percentage of our lives. Think about it. When you're five years old, one year is twenty percent of your life. And so a year feels like a pretty long time. However, when you're twenty years old, one year is only five percent of your life. So it feels like it's a lot shorter.

Really, none of us is able to gauge any amount of time longer than our own lives. Someone can say, "This happened 100 years ago" or "This happened 2000 years ago." And I suppose I can cognitively grasp this difference, but not fully. It's all pretty much the same to me. I have no reference point for any amount of time beyond 20 years (almost 21 years; buy me presents).

If there's anything to be gained from any of this, it's that time really is going faster as far as you're concerned. So make the most of it. I imagine that when I'm 80, each passing year is going to seem like it's nothing at all. And it's probably a shame to have to look back and think, "Man, I really wasted my time sitting around reading meaningless blog posts." So you may now move your mouse up to the little X in the corner and close this. After all, time is flying. So try to keep up.

Bystander Effect

Since I started this blog last summer, pretty much all of my posts have been somewhat serious. That was never really my intention. I don't want people to have the false impression that I walk around all day thinking about things of significance. For the most part, I spend all my time thinking about what's for lunch or how many clean shirts I have left or how the Reds kind of suck. And so, even though the topic of this blog is deathly serious, it may not be all that significant, and you may read it and think, "Wow, that was a really big waste of two minutes of my life." But if you didn't read this, would you really be more productive? Or would you just be playing tetris on your computer?

In my psychology class last week, we learned about the bystander effect. Basically what this means is that a person is more likely to help another if they are the only person around to help. If there are a group of people surrounding the person in need, everyone kind of assumes that "someone else will do it," and so it ends up that no one does anything. The classic example of this is the story about Kitty Genovese in the 1960's, who was attacked and murdered near her apartment in New York City. The attack lasted about thirty minutes. Thirty-eight of Kitty's neighbors watched the attack from their windows, but absolutely no one did anything to help. No one called the police. No one ran down to confront the attacker. They all just thought that, since there were so many people around, surely someone else would take some initiative and do something about the situation. And so, no one did anything, and Genovese's screams for help rang out unanswered.

Tom and I were talking about this last night, and we discovered a way that the bystander effect has an impact in my own life. For whatever reason, there is a group of girls here at Ozark that have this hypothesis that I am going to marry the most beautiful in the world. At least a couple times a week, I hear, "Oh David, you're going to marry a supermodel. We all know it!" And herein lies the problem. All of these girls come up to me and tell me that I'm going to end up with some gorgeous woman, but none of them want to step up and be that woman. They all assume that someone else will do it, I suppose. If every girl I ever meet tells me that I'm going to marry some other girl, then I end up with no girl at all! I am the unfortunate victim of the bystander effect.

So don't let innocent girls get mugged in the street. Do something about it. And don't let awkward, socially inept guys walk around alone. Don't be a bystander. Be a hero.