So Much Quality

You will love me for this.

shalom, matt

Smallitude (or Showers and Ears)

For some unknown reason, other than I might be maturing as a Christ-follower finally, I've been taking note of, and trying to allow God to be active in, the small details of life. The story of Elijah in the cave hearing the still small voice rings with an objective reality. You can't hear it. It's not audible. It doesn't sound like Val Kilmer or James Earl Jones, but it is an impression, a sense, that there is a direction that should be pursued, an action that should be taken, a prayer that should be lifted up.

Today, after reading for awhile and eating Pringles, I had the impression that I wanted to take a shower.

Wanted, mind you, not needed. I didn't smell funky, like a dead carcass, lying inert on an Indiana county road in the middle of July, slowing bloating and swelling from the 200% humidity. I happen to like showers, actually. Sometimes I just take them because I have nothing else to do and standing underneath a steaming flow of Culligan-softened hot water, my skin flirting with 2nd degree burns, sounds like just the thing to cure the ills of the world (or at least my world in that moment). I mentioned earlier that this was an impression. I want to clarify that I don't think that God, while dealing with world-hunger, preventing nuclear holocaust, and cleaning up after the Bush Administration, really is concerned with giving me the impression that I should take a shower in that moment, that it might be a divine appointment of sorts in line with the divine pow-wows Moses, Elijah and Jesus had with God (nor the one that all three had together at the Transfiguration).

Or maybe He is concerned with that moment, as with all moments from the beginning of history until its inevitable consummation. Maybe, just maybe, it is a divine appointment. Maybe all of our moments are ripe with the possibilities of the burning bush, the mouth of the cave, or the Cross.

What I do know is that I've been having more and more of these moments, these impressions, these voices that seem to have been closeted for so long (I think I might have had the key all along to the closet) and are speaking more and more frequently.

And I, for once, am listening to them.

One voice says, "Do the two loads of laundry that are currently littering the floor of your closet before your wife gets home. Do it so she won't have to." To which I reply, "Leave me alone, I want to take a nap." But recently, I've been doing the laundry anyway.

Another voice says, "Why don't you take a moment and spend some time in the written Word?" to which I reply, "I'll get to it later." Recently I've been spending some time in the written Word when Something tells me to.

There is a voice that says, "Why don't you pray about that?" To which I reply, "What's the point?" And recently I've been praying and, even more importantly, waiting to see what happens.

True story: I woke up in the morning one day with a clogged right ear. I don't have the cleanest ears in the world, so I figured it could be a yearly build up of ear wax, built up to the point where Shrek would even be jealous. Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that every spring my head fills up with mucous and doesn't empty out until October because I have such God-forsaken allergies. I'm going with the latter for argument's sake. I was perturbed at my partial hearing impaired condition because, frankly, it's freaking annoying to only be able to hear well out of one ear. The other ear makes everything sound like the teacher off the Peanuts cartoons--"Wha-wha wha wha-wha-wha." I dropped my son off at daycare in this condition, trying not to run into things because my balance was a little off. I got back in my car, and for some unknown reason I did something that I haven't done in a long time: I asked God for something completely meaningless in the big scheme of life. I asked him to unclog my ear. Why? In the kingdom-scheme of things my ear issues don't amount to a hill of racoon crap, but it was frankly pissing me off by this time and I thought it couldn't hurt to let God in on my annoyance.

"Okay, God," I prayed. "I know this isn't much and I'm sure that it'll come unclogged on its own at some point, but I would really like my ear to be better. It's not a big deal, but I would like you to help me with this." I left it at that and drove off. An hour later it occurred to me that my ear wasn't plugged anymore. Not a grand miracle, but I'll take it. I can hear better at least.

Why did I pray about my mucous-filled ear (or whatever it is that clogs up ears)? I don't know other than I felt like I should, like God might be in on this one, taking the matter of my damned up ear as if it mattered the most to Him, more than nuclear holocaust and the Democratic debate.

Here's what I'm driving at: I feel like I've missed out on a lot in recent years. I've been so preoccupied with helping everyone around me listen for the Voice that I've forgotten what it sounds like. Jesus said, in John 10, that his sheep would know his voice. Maybe being out of ministry for awhile will help me better learn to listen to God about important things, like life direction, when to have another child, how to be an honest, people-loving car salesman. And maybe I'll better learn to listen to God about things that don't matter except in that moment--clogged ears, a kid with a cough, peace to make it through a rough day. In trying to make sense of what's been going on in my life, I've begun noticing little differences in each day that seem to be painting a larger picture of what God might be up to. But, like any masterpiece, you can never tell what part the individual brush strokes will play in the overall picture until the master has finished, put his paint brush to the side, stepped back, looked upon his creation with a smile and said, "Ah, now that's what I had in mind. Magnifico!"

Here's to the Artist, working upon the canvas of Life, with clogged ears and a need for a shower as paintbrush and paint.

shalom, matt

Meaning

I've been reading Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott, a must read for anyone that knows how to read (and if you know someone who doesn't know how to read, buy the book and read it to them). I wanted to share a quick quote from her book. It deals with the meaning of an individual's life.

A human life is like a single letter of the alphabet. It can be meaningless. Or it can be part of a greater meaning.

I like the thought that our human existence, as paltry, ordinary, and filled with angst and uncertainty as it can seem (or sometimes actually be), runs over with possibilities for deeper meaning and worth. That, by the grace and strength of Christ, we can rise above what the world passes off as life: an illusionary pursuit after illusionary pleasures that flutter away after they have passed themselves off as ultimate reality, but that turn out to be nothing more than dime-store promises and an imitation Rolex.

Like an individual member of the alphabet, our truest meaning, that which points to a greater Meaning and Ultimate Reality, only comes as part of a greater whole. What is a word but a collection, a community, if you will, of letters that are joined to paint a picture of something real?

And what is the church, but a collection, a community, if you will, of people that are joined to paint a picture of something real?

shalom, matt

An Open Letter to the Fine Makers of Irish Spring Body Wash

Dear Fine Makers of Irish Spring Body Wash,

Greetings and salutations. I would like to take the opportunity to voice my endorsement of your fine product, Irish Spring Body Wash (original scent). I used it for the first time today, nay, 10 minutes ago and still smell Irish-y fresh. I lathered up with the Irish green goodness, per the instructions on the back of the bottle, conveniently placed for the ignorant shower-taker who can't seem to grasp the simple concept of cleaning their own body (Smell update: we are now at 12 minutes of smelling Irish and counting). I rinsed my lithe body off with softened water and was pleased to find that I indeed still smelled Irish Spring clean (not to be confused with Irish Spring cleaning, where Irish people try to remove the smell of mutton from the house). I'm not sure what Ireland smells like. I've always imagined it smelling like most other countries in the world: grassy, airy, 4-leaf-clovery, yet also wreaking of mutton, Guinness, and Bono. If Ireland smells like my left arm does right now (15 minutes post shower), then I'm moving tomorrow to the fine land of clover and that Lucky Charms guy.

I do have a question:

Can we really make the claim that body wash has an "8 hour Scent System." I mean, when I think of the word system I think of Cisco, Windows Vista (I didn't say "good systems!), Mac OS, a national government, health care, Social Security, and a 2-3 zone defense. I don't usually think smells. Can stink have a system? Are their tiny computers built into each molecule of body wash that sense when I smell like the underbelly of a foraging Irish sheep and I instead need to smell like the countryside the sheep is foraging in? "Warning! Warning!" the scent system screams, with Klaxon horns and the loud awooooooga! sound you hear on tugboats, "Stench is reaching dangerous, landfill-esque proportions! Release Irishness!" Perhaps you can enlighten me on what exactly this system is and how it works to keep me smelling Irish.

My thanks to you, the FMISBW, for the fact that 20 minutes after lathering up with your product I still smell like Irish shepherd.

shalom, matt

p.s. No leprechauns or rock stars were harmed in writing this post.

A New Messiah

Oprah Will Lead Healing After Imus

Does that headline scare the heck out of anyone else? Oprah has become the new messiah (Hebrew word for "Anointed One") of America, and in particular, America's women. She is the foremost "expert" and "authority" on the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual (that last one ought to scare you a bit) well-being of American women. All of her humanitarian work aside for the moment, I didn't realize that America was in need of Oprah's healing touch from Don Imus' comments. The guy is a shock jock. What did you expect him to do? Not shock people? I certainly don't agree with his comments, but aren't we blowing their impact a little out of proportion for the sake of T.V. ratings? Are African Americans, or for that matter, any Americans, really that upset about the whole thing that we need to have special (televised, don't forget) town meetings led by America's spiritual guru? Does anyone else smell an attempt at boosting ratings, or is it just me?

shalom, matt

Tea and Biscuits, Anyone?

If you ever wanted to know how to get to London, well, I've got the info for you right here.

1. go to www.google.com
2. click on “maps”
3. click on “get directions”
4. type “New York” in the first box (the “from” box)
5. type “London” in the second box (the “to” box)
6. scroll down to step #23

Remind me to not follow the directions they give you.

shalom, matt

50 Point Loser

Kobe Bryant, the Laker's vaunted, yet troubled, star player scored 50 points last night against the Clippers, the ninth time he's done so this season. The Laker's still lost. Kobe scored over half of the Laker's points and yet the team came up 10 points short on the score board. Wouldn't you think that a 50 point game would be sufficient and that your teammates might be able to throw in another 50 points between them? This isn't the first loss the Lakers have suffered when Kobe scored over 50 points. Once again, this proves true the idea that one man doth not maketh a team entire. It takes a team to win in a team sport.

There is a lesson here somewhere for the Church. Let me see...where did I put that lesson?...I'll look in here...nope, it's not in there...let me look under here...hey! there's that Cheeto!...still smells okay...tastes okay, too...little stale...oh, wait! Here's that lesson: A church cannot exist around the few, but must involve the many.

The Body of Christ, with all of its unique gifts, quarks, abilities, and talents must work together to fulfill the mission of "Thy kingdom come...on earth." It cannot rely upon the abilities of a few people in prime positions, but it must seek to involve meaningfully the bathroom cleaner and the worship leader, the table-setter-upper and the teacher, into a seamless organism seeking the fulfillment of God's ultimate plan to fully redeem and reclaim the whole of Creation.

Now, if you will excuse me, please. I have to go teach my Playstation football team how to play as a team and not rely upon me for all the play-making ability.

shalom, matt

On Work (part 2)

From The Prophet…

You have been told also that life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge.
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat fruit.
It is to charge all things your fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.

On Work

More from The Prophet…

Then a ploughman said, Speak to us of Work.
And he answered, saying:
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.

Victor Hugo and My House

I've been reading Les Miserables over the last couple days. Yes, I know it's French in nature. Yes, they are incredibly snooty and pompous about being French. Yes, they invented the fry and their own version of toast. But the book is really good. It was recommended to me by a couple people as being incredibly redemptive in theme. So far it has not disappointed. The book version that I have (which is actually abridged, meaning some unnecessary parts have been taken out by the editor) is over 800 pages. I saw some versions that were over 1300 pages (I'm assuming they are unabridged). The print is small. There are no pictures or pop-ups. I came across a passage in the book, a conversation between the bishop and the main character of the book, Jean Valjean.

For a little background info: Jean Valjean has just been released from 19 years of imprisonment for stealing bread to feed his family (also a number of escape attempts added length to the sentence). He enters the town where the bishop resides and is subsequently turned away by every inn, stable and home that he asks for rest and nourishment. He carries a passport with him that labels him as a convict and "a dangerous man." He is directed to the home of the bishop, and in a last ditch effort to find food and shelter he bangs upon the door and enters into the home of the bishop (who lives with his two sisters). He declares who he is, that he is "dangerous," and then asks for food and shelter. Here is the bishop's response:

"You need not tell me who you are. This is not my house; it is the house of Christ. It does not ask any comer whether he has a name, but whether he has an affliction. You are suffering; you are hungry and thirsty; be welcome. And do not thank me; do not tell me that I take you into my house. This is the home of no man, except him who needs an asylum. I tell you, who are a traveler, that you are more at home here than I; whatever is here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, I knew it."

The man opened his eyes in astonishment:
"Really? You knew my name?"

"Yes," answered the bishop, "your name is my brother."

I want my home, my life to be like that of the bishops. I want my home to be a place of refuge, of asylum. A place for the weary and afflicted to come and find hope and healing and rest. This is the hospitality of Christ, of the early church, and hopefully of you and I.

shalom, matt

Resurrection

Good article from my brother over at Kethuvim on the resurrection and it's reality for today.

shalom, matt