Just did a Google search for a "collapsed lung."
Sounds like it could be the correct explanation for this stabbing pain in my right lung that happens each time I cough.
But causes include:
Smoking weed
Gunshot wounds
Knife wounds
Scuba diving
High altitude hiking
Being tall and thin
Yes, I lead a crazy life here in France, but mom, I promise that I only fall into one of these categories.
Now...time to figure out how to say "collapsed lung" in French, and how to promise I haven't been involved in any gang activity. Nope, rien que grand et maigre, c'est tout, je vous assure.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Advent is Here
With two Thanksgiving celebrations behind us, Advent officially starts tonight. With it came Sufjan Stevens, the making of an Advent chain, and plugging in the French Christmas lights we found the other day. (Selection of Christmas lights in this country is sadly just as bad as the selection of turkeys...)
As we wrapped up (no pun intended, actually...but there was a little bit of wrapping going on, too) there was another mention of Christmastime, and the kid's ears perked up.
"It's Christmas time? Where is it?"
We explained that technically Christmas time started tonight with this little celebration, but that Christmas itself was still 30 days away.
Without explaining, he walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out. After a few moments, he confirmed, "No, it's not here yet. Wanna look with me? No. It's not there. I don't see any snow."
He's been talking about snow for months. Snow is almost as rare around here as good Christmas lights and affordable turkeys. We're afraid he could end up disappointed.
As we wrapped up (no pun intended, actually...but there was a little bit of wrapping going on, too) there was another mention of Christmastime, and the kid's ears perked up.
"It's Christmas time? Where is it?"
We explained that technically Christmas time started tonight with this little celebration, but that Christmas itself was still 30 days away.
Without explaining, he walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out. After a few moments, he confirmed, "No, it's not here yet. Wanna look with me? No. It's not there. I don't see any snow."
He's been talking about snow for months. Snow is almost as rare around here as good Christmas lights and affordable turkeys. We're afraid he could end up disappointed.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
A Different Way of Learning
We read an article in our text books about a phenomenon that is apparently somewhat common in several cities across France. Le Troc des Savoirs, roughly translated as The Exchange of Skills. We all have something we're good at, why not learn from one another? It just so happens that you know how to fix a toilet and I know how to play the ukulele. And it just so happens that I need to learn how to fix a toilet and you want to learn how to play the ukulele. So let's spend some time together, teach one another, free of charge.
I love this idea, a means to meet people and learn from one another on a personal level. No need to read a textbook or register at the university when you've got someone in the building next to you who has all the know-how you need. It seems like a much more rich, valuable experience.
And this is the way it used to be, isn't it? Before universities and academia became the norm, we were apprentices, learning a job by experience one day at a time. Not only that, we usually didn't choose the job, but it chose us, perhaps because it was the family business or someone within our circle of friends. But the fact of the matter is, if the blacksmith didn't find his apprentice, then eventually the town would no longer have a blacksmith. In a certain sense, this personal one-on-one teaching, free of charge, was the back-bone of society.
Today it's sort of the contrary. Relatively speaking, one must take an incredible amount of initiative to get much of anywhere. We choose the field of study to pursue, decide how to pursue it, apply, pay, and typically go on to listen in a lecture hall among dozens of others like us. This is how we learn. And no matter what the field, you must cram all the theory into your head before the practical. The rare opportunity to work alongside a professional is by begging your way into an internship of sorts, after proving you've already come to understand enough of the theory. I could go on, but you get the idea.
The reason all of this captures my attention is because of its impact on the church. We've followed the trends of our culture, and our pattern of making disciples doesn't look much different. Someone hears some sort of message that may spark their interest, and they must take the initiative to choose a church, find the church, attend, and break through social circles to meet someone. They sit among crowds, listening in services or Bible studies or Sunday school classes, getting all the theory they can handle. If someone says they want to learn more, we recommend a book or a podcast. If someone really wants to learn, we recommend the nearest Bible school. And the rare opportunity to learn directly from someone typically only comes after they ask specifically and intentionally, and even then it's such an unusual suggestion that the person being asked isn't really sure what to do with them.
I'm not saying that teaching in services and Bible studies and Sunday schools and Bible colleges and whathaveyou is bad, wrong, or worthless. If you know me, you know that's the furthest thing from I mean. What I'm saying is that this way of making disciples seems to be quite foreign from the picture I see in the New Testament. In my mind it resembles much more of a Western-20th-century-upper-middle-class-strong-work-ethic-pick-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps-and-prove-your-worth-because-that's-what-I-did type of mentality.
In my mind, discipleship resembles something much closer to this Troc des Savoirs. It's the pursuit of people and the exchange of ideas in a one-on-one setting. It's the space to ask questions, sometimes quite personal. It's the ability to try out some things with direct feedback. It's real-life, day-to-day learning. It's observing the example of someone who has a bit more experience. It's watching, listening, sharing, discussing. It's living life together.
I was talking to someone about mentorship recently, and to be honest I still am not quite sure what the difference is between mentorship inside the church and discipleship. There's a lot of people who like to split hairs over semantics like this, but usually those are the people who aren't doing either because they're too worried about defining them first. But I said to this person that in my mind, mentorship often doesn't happen because the Mentors are waiting for Mentees to take initiative and ask, while the Mentees are waiting for the Mentors to take initiative and ask, and so we sit in our corners waiting and never exchange with one another.
I've spent a lot of my life being one of those Mentees waiting to be asked. I've been told I'm in the wrong--that if I want a mentor I need to take initiative and speak up. OK, sure, I get it, and I can agree that the road goes both ways. But I maintain that there are a lot of people sitting in our churches who are insecure or who lack self-confidence or who don't seem any amount of potential in themselves, and they need to be pursued. Mentors can't just sit around and not engage anyone just because it appears like no one's showing initiative. And sure, Mentees need to be willing and interested and desirous in such a relationship, but sometimes simply being asked ("Who me? Wow, thanks for asking...") is all they need to spark that desire.
As I've been mulling all of this over in recent weeks, Christ's example struck me in a fresh way. He walks up to twelve men, he goes directly to them. They aren't the most obvious choices, not the men who have taken initiative or who are the most qualified. He doesn't mince words, he has one simple command: "Follow me." It's not an offer, not a question, it's a direct command. Generally, these men show no prior interest, they don't ask, don't sign up, don't inquire, don't apply. Just the opposite, Jesus sees them, knows them, chooses them, recruits them, and commences with the one-on-one side-by-side day-to-day on-the-job training.
This is our first and prime example of discipleship, and I think we could learn a few things.
I love this idea, a means to meet people and learn from one another on a personal level. No need to read a textbook or register at the university when you've got someone in the building next to you who has all the know-how you need. It seems like a much more rich, valuable experience.
And this is the way it used to be, isn't it? Before universities and academia became the norm, we were apprentices, learning a job by experience one day at a time. Not only that, we usually didn't choose the job, but it chose us, perhaps because it was the family business or someone within our circle of friends. But the fact of the matter is, if the blacksmith didn't find his apprentice, then eventually the town would no longer have a blacksmith. In a certain sense, this personal one-on-one teaching, free of charge, was the back-bone of society.
Today it's sort of the contrary. Relatively speaking, one must take an incredible amount of initiative to get much of anywhere. We choose the field of study to pursue, decide how to pursue it, apply, pay, and typically go on to listen in a lecture hall among dozens of others like us. This is how we learn. And no matter what the field, you must cram all the theory into your head before the practical. The rare opportunity to work alongside a professional is by begging your way into an internship of sorts, after proving you've already come to understand enough of the theory. I could go on, but you get the idea.
The reason all of this captures my attention is because of its impact on the church. We've followed the trends of our culture, and our pattern of making disciples doesn't look much different. Someone hears some sort of message that may spark their interest, and they must take the initiative to choose a church, find the church, attend, and break through social circles to meet someone. They sit among crowds, listening in services or Bible studies or Sunday school classes, getting all the theory they can handle. If someone says they want to learn more, we recommend a book or a podcast. If someone really wants to learn, we recommend the nearest Bible school. And the rare opportunity to learn directly from someone typically only comes after they ask specifically and intentionally, and even then it's such an unusual suggestion that the person being asked isn't really sure what to do with them.
I'm not saying that teaching in services and Bible studies and Sunday schools and Bible colleges and whathaveyou is bad, wrong, or worthless. If you know me, you know that's the furthest thing from I mean. What I'm saying is that this way of making disciples seems to be quite foreign from the picture I see in the New Testament. In my mind it resembles much more of a Western-20th-century-upper-middle-class-strong-work-ethic-pick-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps-and-prove-your-worth-because-that's-what-I-did type of mentality.
In my mind, discipleship resembles something much closer to this Troc des Savoirs. It's the pursuit of people and the exchange of ideas in a one-on-one setting. It's the space to ask questions, sometimes quite personal. It's the ability to try out some things with direct feedback. It's real-life, day-to-day learning. It's observing the example of someone who has a bit more experience. It's watching, listening, sharing, discussing. It's living life together.
I was talking to someone about mentorship recently, and to be honest I still am not quite sure what the difference is between mentorship inside the church and discipleship. There's a lot of people who like to split hairs over semantics like this, but usually those are the people who aren't doing either because they're too worried about defining them first. But I said to this person that in my mind, mentorship often doesn't happen because the Mentors are waiting for Mentees to take initiative and ask, while the Mentees are waiting for the Mentors to take initiative and ask, and so we sit in our corners waiting and never exchange with one another.
I've spent a lot of my life being one of those Mentees waiting to be asked. I've been told I'm in the wrong--that if I want a mentor I need to take initiative and speak up. OK, sure, I get it, and I can agree that the road goes both ways. But I maintain that there are a lot of people sitting in our churches who are insecure or who lack self-confidence or who don't seem any amount of potential in themselves, and they need to be pursued. Mentors can't just sit around and not engage anyone just because it appears like no one's showing initiative. And sure, Mentees need to be willing and interested and desirous in such a relationship, but sometimes simply being asked ("Who me? Wow, thanks for asking...") is all they need to spark that desire.
As I've been mulling all of this over in recent weeks, Christ's example struck me in a fresh way. He walks up to twelve men, he goes directly to them. They aren't the most obvious choices, not the men who have taken initiative or who are the most qualified. He doesn't mince words, he has one simple command: "Follow me." It's not an offer, not a question, it's a direct command. Generally, these men show no prior interest, they don't ask, don't sign up, don't inquire, don't apply. Just the opposite, Jesus sees them, knows them, chooses them, recruits them, and commences with the one-on-one side-by-side day-to-day on-the-job training.
This is our first and prime example of discipleship, and I think we could learn a few things.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Advent 15: For His Papa
As I read again the story of the crucifixion with the kid recently, I asked him with curiosity for his response: "Why did Jesus die?"
And curiously enough, he responded without a moment's hesitation, "For his Papa!"
I was stunned. It was not the answer I was thinking of. But I couldn't have agreed more.
Even in talking about the death of Christ we have a hard time getting away from our self-focused tendencies, and so our response to the same question is all too often, "For us! Because he loves us! To give us life and freedom and hope!"
That's not a wrong answer, not at all. But I agree with the three year old theologian in this house: it's not the final answer. Jesus died first and foremost for his Papa. Maybe it's oversimplifying, but I guess that's what three year olds tend to do.
Yet, the kid has good reason for saying such things, and I have good reason to agree with him:
John 6:38 says he's come to do the will of his Papa. "For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me."
In the garden the night before his death, he concludes his anguishing prayer with the desire to glorify his Papa. John 12:27-28 "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name."
Philippians 2 says Christ humbled himself, came to earth in human form, died on a cross, and then was exalted, so that every tongue on earth will confess that he is Lord, all "to the glory of God the Father." (v. 11)
And so, if you need something to chew on during Advent, ask yourself this question and search the scriptures for answers: "Why did Jesus come to Earth?" Don't settle too quickly, because the answers are numerous and each one is always rewarding.
But when it comes time to rest in a final answer, it will be tempting to say that in the end it's "for us." I tend to believe, however, that every answer you will find, including that one, ultimately points instead to the glory of the Father. The final answer is "For his Papa."
John 1:14, 18 (paraphrase mine, of course)
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from his Papa, full of grace and truth...No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only has made his Papa known.
And curiously enough, he responded without a moment's hesitation, "For his Papa!"
I was stunned. It was not the answer I was thinking of. But I couldn't have agreed more.
Even in talking about the death of Christ we have a hard time getting away from our self-focused tendencies, and so our response to the same question is all too often, "For us! Because he loves us! To give us life and freedom and hope!"
That's not a wrong answer, not at all. But I agree with the three year old theologian in this house: it's not the final answer. Jesus died first and foremost for his Papa. Maybe it's oversimplifying, but I guess that's what three year olds tend to do.
Yet, the kid has good reason for saying such things, and I have good reason to agree with him:
John 6:38 says he's come to do the will of his Papa. "For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me."
In the garden the night before his death, he concludes his anguishing prayer with the desire to glorify his Papa. John 12:27-28 "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name."
Philippians 2 says Christ humbled himself, came to earth in human form, died on a cross, and then was exalted, so that every tongue on earth will confess that he is Lord, all "to the glory of God the Father." (v. 11)
And so, if you need something to chew on during Advent, ask yourself this question and search the scriptures for answers: "Why did Jesus come to Earth?" Don't settle too quickly, because the answers are numerous and each one is always rewarding.
But when it comes time to rest in a final answer, it will be tempting to say that in the end it's "for us." I tend to believe, however, that every answer you will find, including that one, ultimately points instead to the glory of the Father. The final answer is "For his Papa."
John 1:14, 18 (paraphrase mine, of course)
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from his Papa, full of grace and truth...No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only has made his Papa known.
The Clarinet is Back
As previously promised, here's a post devoted to the licorice stick.
When I think of a clarinet, I can't help but think of my days playing in the band. If you were choosing a woodwind, the girls chose the flute and the cool kids chose the saxophone. The clarinet section? I guess it was mostly for the kids who weren't sure where they fit. Excuse the stereotypes.
It was an awkward instrument. I immediately picture furrowed eyebrows, unavoidable buck teeth, sounds full of air and saliva, and blushing faces after the loudest ear-piercing of squeaks. If you were in the band, you know exactly what I'm talking about, and you're probably giggling with me right now. (Unless you were in the clarinet section...I've probably just made you cry, haven't I?)
While I don't regret not choosing it back then, I regret not being able to play now. Because when you can actually play the clarinet, man is it good. So moody and mysterious and soulful and deep.
And now that the saxophone players have lost their popularity with the lamentable death of Ska, the clarinets are getting their revenge with an understated, reflective, mature presence in indie circles. Here are a few of my favorite examples. If you know of others, don't be shy, pass them along.
Doesn't hurt to add a horn and a pump organ...good grief this is beautiful...
When I think of a clarinet, I can't help but think of my days playing in the band. If you were choosing a woodwind, the girls chose the flute and the cool kids chose the saxophone. The clarinet section? I guess it was mostly for the kids who weren't sure where they fit. Excuse the stereotypes.
It was an awkward instrument. I immediately picture furrowed eyebrows, unavoidable buck teeth, sounds full of air and saliva, and blushing faces after the loudest ear-piercing of squeaks. If you were in the band, you know exactly what I'm talking about, and you're probably giggling with me right now. (Unless you were in the clarinet section...I've probably just made you cry, haven't I?)
While I don't regret not choosing it back then, I regret not being able to play now. Because when you can actually play the clarinet, man is it good. So moody and mysterious and soulful and deep.
And now that the saxophone players have lost their popularity with the lamentable death of Ska, the clarinets are getting their revenge with an understated, reflective, mature presence in indie circles. Here are a few of my favorite examples. If you know of others, don't be shy, pass them along.
Doesn't hurt to add a horn and a pump organ...good grief this is beautiful...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Trying desperately to think more than one day in advance.
This entire year has been a blur, mostly because it's felt as though we only have enough energy and forethought to look one day ahead. 10PM comes and it's time to make a few decisions about tomorrow......if we have enough energy left.
Right now it's Thanksgiving. Turkeys and the like are hard to find around here. Improvisation will be necessary. And it's only a week away. That takes about all the forethought we've got.
But then there's Advent. The book is one thing, the blog posts another, and just the general frame of mind I hope to maintain still another. But all of a sudden I'm thinking about my perceptive 3-year old. How do I make December not just about Christmas Day, but about waiting for a Savior?
I've always loved the idea of an Advent calendar, and this year there are plenty to choose from including a Lego Star Wars model and a few choices from PlayMobil and numerous chocolate options here in France. These aren't what I'm looking for in an Advent calendar.
I drew a rough sketch a couple of years back of a big calendar I wanted to make myself. It was going to be awesome. I've lost the sketch, but can still picture it, and I described it to Erica the other day. I don't think she was catching my vision. It was a winter scene, with the shepherds off in the hill, Rudolf grazing among their sheep and the abominable snowman lurking in the trees. The Peanuts gang were in the foreground around their pathetic tree. Santa was flying through the sky next to the bright, shining star which was over the Nativity scene. I think the Grinch and Frosty the Snowman were somewhere in there too. And around the scene were little doors for each day of Advent, with a passage of scripture to read that I promise would be more contemplative than the way this calendar sounds.
Ok, maybe the aesthetic is bizarre, but you must admit it's better than Lego Star Wars. (And if there are any artists/graphic designers out there that are on the same page and want to help, let's talk.)
All this to say, I just looked at the calendar, and did you know Advent is only a week and a half away? I mean, I knew November 27th would get here eventually, but a week and a half? That's not enough time to bring this amazing calendar to fruition. We might have to resort to a paper chain at 10PM the night before. What are we going to do?!
The mind of a 3-year old is a tricky thing to try and figure out...and while some of my readers wouldn't dare to get close to one, if others of you have some handy ideas that don't take too much energy to produce, I'm listening.
But if you're an adult, there's this book I know about...
Right now it's Thanksgiving. Turkeys and the like are hard to find around here. Improvisation will be necessary. And it's only a week away. That takes about all the forethought we've got.
But then there's Advent. The book is one thing, the blog posts another, and just the general frame of mind I hope to maintain still another. But all of a sudden I'm thinking about my perceptive 3-year old. How do I make December not just about Christmas Day, but about waiting for a Savior?
I've always loved the idea of an Advent calendar, and this year there are plenty to choose from including a Lego Star Wars model and a few choices from PlayMobil and numerous chocolate options here in France. These aren't what I'm looking for in an Advent calendar.
I drew a rough sketch a couple of years back of a big calendar I wanted to make myself. It was going to be awesome. I've lost the sketch, but can still picture it, and I described it to Erica the other day. I don't think she was catching my vision. It was a winter scene, with the shepherds off in the hill, Rudolf grazing among their sheep and the abominable snowman lurking in the trees. The Peanuts gang were in the foreground around their pathetic tree. Santa was flying through the sky next to the bright, shining star which was over the Nativity scene. I think the Grinch and Frosty the Snowman were somewhere in there too. And around the scene were little doors for each day of Advent, with a passage of scripture to read that I promise would be more contemplative than the way this calendar sounds.
Ok, maybe the aesthetic is bizarre, but you must admit it's better than Lego Star Wars. (And if there are any artists/graphic designers out there that are on the same page and want to help, let's talk.)
All this to say, I just looked at the calendar, and did you know Advent is only a week and a half away? I mean, I knew November 27th would get here eventually, but a week and a half? That's not enough time to bring this amazing calendar to fruition. We might have to resort to a paper chain at 10PM the night before. What are we going to do?!
The mind of a 3-year old is a tricky thing to try and figure out...and while some of my readers wouldn't dare to get close to one, if others of you have some handy ideas that don't take too much energy to produce, I'm listening.
But if you're an adult, there's this book I know about...
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Hail to the Chief
My worst fear in life has always been becoming the President of the United States of America. I've taken comfort in the fact that it seems to only happen willingly, in all the countless complicated steps leading up to election day. But I just had a dream (nightmare) in which it actually happened to me. I was elected. And I was a nervous wreck. I found out you have to work Saturdays. And while there was an end in sight, four years just seemed like an eternity. I woke up petrified and went to CNN to make sure I hadn't made the headlines.
But seriously guys, stop voting for me, it's just a bad idea and it's definitely not funny.
E, on the other hand, has always talked about wanting to be president. Unfortunately for her, my second biggest fear in life has always been being husband to the President.
But seriously guys, stop voting for me, it's just a bad idea and it's definitely not funny.
E, on the other hand, has always talked about wanting to be president. Unfortunately for her, my second biggest fear in life has always been being husband to the President.
Mix Tape: Honest Songwriting
If I'm picking a song off this new Josh Garrels album, it's 'Farther Along,' only because something about it grabs me and draws me in from the opening chord progression on the organ.
But it's almost embarrassing, because at certain points it sounds a bit like the CCM I listened to in middle school. I don't listen to much of that 'Jesus-y' music anymore these days, and I suppose in the end I distanced myself from that arena of music mainly because it lacked one thing: authenticity.
While I want to be careful not to lump it all into one bag deserving of the garbage can, it often sounded like certain artists were singing about Jesus for one of two reasons: A) success was easier in the Christian market or B) an executive paid them to do so. In the end, that doesn't seem too much different than the other artists singing about sex just to sell records in their arena.
What makes Garrels different, besides some extra poetic prowess and a comparatively larger vocabulary, is that we can very easily discern there's only one reason he's singing about Jesus. It's simply because he wants to. Because he can't begin to imagine singing about anything else. It's as though his life depends on it, and it does. Sure, maybe he'd have a wider audience if he could tone things down a bit, be a bit more vague or esoteric, or find other things to sing about. But if you were to get rid of the focus of his music, there simply would be no music left to be made. No reason to sing. No desire to create. The Creator has put a song in his heart, and the song must be given back to Him.
This authenticity is only further proven when you take a peek at how he creates his records: involving friends, handcrafting the packaging, leaps of faith for financing, never signing to a label, and then giving it all away for free.
There is an integrity here. And it sounds good.
Josh Garrels, "Farther Along" from Love and War and the Sea in Between
But it's almost embarrassing, because at certain points it sounds a bit like the CCM I listened to in middle school. I don't listen to much of that 'Jesus-y' music anymore these days, and I suppose in the end I distanced myself from that arena of music mainly because it lacked one thing: authenticity.
While I want to be careful not to lump it all into one bag deserving of the garbage can, it often sounded like certain artists were singing about Jesus for one of two reasons: A) success was easier in the Christian market or B) an executive paid them to do so. In the end, that doesn't seem too much different than the other artists singing about sex just to sell records in their arena.
What makes Garrels different, besides some extra poetic prowess and a comparatively larger vocabulary, is that we can very easily discern there's only one reason he's singing about Jesus. It's simply because he wants to. Because he can't begin to imagine singing about anything else. It's as though his life depends on it, and it does. Sure, maybe he'd have a wider audience if he could tone things down a bit, be a bit more vague or esoteric, or find other things to sing about. But if you were to get rid of the focus of his music, there simply would be no music left to be made. No reason to sing. No desire to create. The Creator has put a song in his heart, and the song must be given back to Him.
This authenticity is only further proven when you take a peek at how he creates his records: involving friends, handcrafting the packaging, leaps of faith for financing, never signing to a label, and then giving it all away for free.
There is an integrity here. And it sounds good.
Josh Garrels, "Farther Along" from Love and War and the Sea in Between
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Why Advent?
Every year we say the same thing, hear the same thing. It resembles a New Year’s resolution one month early. “This year I really want to focus on the true reason for the season. You know, not get so caught up in the commercialism of it all. I’m going to finish the shopping and the wrapping and the baking and the preparing early, so I have time to slow down and enjoy it all and remember what its really all about.”
But the 9 to 5 churns on til the 24th, traffic is thick, lines are long, parties are plentiful, and every year the gift list grows. Those good intentions often get dropped as quickly as the treadmill walking does just after the first of January.
I guess it dawned on me a few years back that this advent thing we halfway do in Evangelical churches was meant to be more than lighting a new candle each week before the Christmas sermon. Traditionally, it’s meant to be a season, a whole month, and one meant for reflections of eager expectation.
And so when we express those good intentions, we're actually looking for Advent, something to keep us balanced and grounded amidst the rest of the hectic festivities. Something to help our souls magnify the Lord the way Mary's did that first Advent season.
My first year of trying to make this a more intentional exercise consisted of scripture-based reflections on our need for this Savior-baby. (You can find most of those here, by the way.) It proved worthwhile. All of a sudden I was worshipping while singing Christmas carols rather than rehearsing the to-do list while mouthing familiar words. Shopping was done with new perspective. Parties had a new depth. Family celebrations came with a sense of deep gratitude. My soul was magnifying the Lord, making God big.
Subsequent years have differed in approach and intensity, but I am convinced we need something to capture our attention in a season of distraction.
So, here's the deal. Advent is about 25 days away, and its observation takes a little bit of forethought. I can't guarantee our little book will help you magnify the Lord (in part because I have yet to lay my hands on an actual copy! Mine arrives in the suitcase of a friend this weekend!), but it might not be a bad place to start. I want to encourage you to do something that will help you focus your thoughts and intentionally celebrate the season. And if our book can help you do that, the twelve of us will be delighted.
So, at the risk of making these genuine thoughts look like just a sneaky advertisement, here's another reminder: Our Savior Come is available now on Amazon.
But the 9 to 5 churns on til the 24th, traffic is thick, lines are long, parties are plentiful, and every year the gift list grows. Those good intentions often get dropped as quickly as the treadmill walking does just after the first of January.
I guess it dawned on me a few years back that this advent thing we halfway do in Evangelical churches was meant to be more than lighting a new candle each week before the Christmas sermon. Traditionally, it’s meant to be a season, a whole month, and one meant for reflections of eager expectation.
And so when we express those good intentions, we're actually looking for Advent, something to keep us balanced and grounded amidst the rest of the hectic festivities. Something to help our souls magnify the Lord the way Mary's did that first Advent season.
My first year of trying to make this a more intentional exercise consisted of scripture-based reflections on our need for this Savior-baby. (You can find most of those here, by the way.) It proved worthwhile. All of a sudden I was worshipping while singing Christmas carols rather than rehearsing the to-do list while mouthing familiar words. Shopping was done with new perspective. Parties had a new depth. Family celebrations came with a sense of deep gratitude. My soul was magnifying the Lord, making God big.
Subsequent years have differed in approach and intensity, but I am convinced we need something to capture our attention in a season of distraction.
So, here's the deal. Advent is about 25 days away, and its observation takes a little bit of forethought. I can't guarantee our little book will help you magnify the Lord (in part because I have yet to lay my hands on an actual copy! Mine arrives in the suitcase of a friend this weekend!), but it might not be a bad place to start. I want to encourage you to do something that will help you focus your thoughts and intentionally celebrate the season. And if our book can help you do that, the twelve of us will be delighted.
So, at the risk of making these genuine thoughts look like just a sneaky advertisement, here's another reminder: Our Savior Come is available now on Amazon.
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Mix Tape: On Real Love
By now just about everyone has heard of Mumford and Sons. Sold out shows all over the world and Grammy nominations to say the very least. Who knows, by now maybe everyone is over Mumford and Sons.
Not me. It was about this time last year that I finally gave up on streaming their album from their Myspace page and the CD was delivered to my door. You know a band doesn't owe their success to gimmicks when the CD is still probably the most played disc in the house and the car still a year later. It's all here. The music, the lyrics, the harmonies, the mood, the energy, the brotherhood. Everyone seems to connect. And as I type I'm realizing just how hard it is to articulate what it is about this band and their music that is so downright powerful.
How many times have I tried to pick a favorite song? There is not a bad song on the disc. The favorites seem to come in waves. I find one and stick to it until another captures my attention. So many beautiful and strong lyrics, for different reasons, for different days.
But I seem to always come back to the opener. Probably not the best, but my favorite, the one I can't get past.
Because it's here, as their smash-hit album begins, that they set the tone for what kind of band they want to be and what their music is all about, setting the record straight right from the start. While they are no less popular than every other act in pop music in the past half-century, they seem to be sending a message that is adamantly and defiantly opposite of the one that sells.
"Love will not betray you, dismay or enslave you! It will set you free! Be more like the man you were made to be!"
For all these years we've heard the pop stars sing about love. It's all we need, of course, and yet it's a dead end street that never ends well. It betrays and dismays, with stabbed backs and broken hearts. We're enslaved by the quest for it, or if we have something that appears to be love, it's probably just slavery dressed up nicely on the exterior, fakery left over from the fifties.
Here come Mumford and Sons boldly saying, "No! That's not it at all! Just the opposite! Love will set you free! It will give you the liberty to be as you were originally designed! And if it doesn't do that, than it isn't love at all!"
"There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see the beauty of love as it was made to be."
That's what we've been singing about all these years, that's why we're singing about love. But in our search to find it as it was made to be, we've settled for counterfeits and are always left disappointed.
So what's the difference between this real love and the love of pop music? I have no idea the spiritual leanings of the band, and while I don't want to put words in their mouths, they seem to give some pretty strong clues as to where this love is found. In admitting that "my heart was never pure," confessing that "man is a giddy thing," saying "I'm sorry," and going on to "serve God," realizing that this life "is not the end."
Could it be that Mumford and Sons is so popular because of this transcendent nature of their music? It's resonating in hearts of image-bearers, confessing Christians or not.
Pop music has always revealed the image of God. Even when the message is warped and misguided, it serves as a mirror showing us our search for love. We know there's something out there, it's written in our hearts, and though it's a messy story of stumbling and fumbling, it's all a part of our search. And that's exactly why pop music is popular.
Mumford and Sons is equally as popular because they're singing about this same search, but instead of complaining about the cheating girlfriend, bragging about the illicit sex, avoiding a stifling marriage, or hoping for some fluffy version of us all just getting along, they're pointing to something much more transcendent. We thought we wanted the girlfriend, the sex, the bachelorhood, but with it comes betrayal, distress, and enslavement. Here comes something real. Something good and true and beautiful and liberating. And that's what we want. And it's as exhilarating as the music to which the message is set.
It all sounds like something else I've recently read:
"Nobody can give anyone else the kind or amount of love they're starved for. In the end we're all alike, groping for true love and incapable of fully giving it. What we need is someone to love us who doesn't need us at all. Someone who loves us radically, unconditionally, vulnerably, just for our sake. If we received that kind of love, that would so assure us of our value, it would so fill us up, that maybe we could start to give love like that too...when you begin to get [this love], when you begin to experience it, the fakery and manipulativeness of your own love starts to wash away, and you've got the patience and security to reach out and start giving a truer love to other people." -Timothy Keller, King's Cross
Mumford and Sons, "Sigh No More" from Sigh No More
Not me. It was about this time last year that I finally gave up on streaming their album from their Myspace page and the CD was delivered to my door. You know a band doesn't owe their success to gimmicks when the CD is still probably the most played disc in the house and the car still a year later. It's all here. The music, the lyrics, the harmonies, the mood, the energy, the brotherhood. Everyone seems to connect. And as I type I'm realizing just how hard it is to articulate what it is about this band and their music that is so downright powerful.
How many times have I tried to pick a favorite song? There is not a bad song on the disc. The favorites seem to come in waves. I find one and stick to it until another captures my attention. So many beautiful and strong lyrics, for different reasons, for different days.
But I seem to always come back to the opener. Probably not the best, but my favorite, the one I can't get past.
Because it's here, as their smash-hit album begins, that they set the tone for what kind of band they want to be and what their music is all about, setting the record straight right from the start. While they are no less popular than every other act in pop music in the past half-century, they seem to be sending a message that is adamantly and defiantly opposite of the one that sells.
"Love will not betray you, dismay or enslave you! It will set you free! Be more like the man you were made to be!"
For all these years we've heard the pop stars sing about love. It's all we need, of course, and yet it's a dead end street that never ends well. It betrays and dismays, with stabbed backs and broken hearts. We're enslaved by the quest for it, or if we have something that appears to be love, it's probably just slavery dressed up nicely on the exterior, fakery left over from the fifties.
Here come Mumford and Sons boldly saying, "No! That's not it at all! Just the opposite! Love will set you free! It will give you the liberty to be as you were originally designed! And if it doesn't do that, than it isn't love at all!"
"There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see the beauty of love as it was made to be."
That's what we've been singing about all these years, that's why we're singing about love. But in our search to find it as it was made to be, we've settled for counterfeits and are always left disappointed.
So what's the difference between this real love and the love of pop music? I have no idea the spiritual leanings of the band, and while I don't want to put words in their mouths, they seem to give some pretty strong clues as to where this love is found. In admitting that "my heart was never pure," confessing that "man is a giddy thing," saying "I'm sorry," and going on to "serve God," realizing that this life "is not the end."
Could it be that Mumford and Sons is so popular because of this transcendent nature of their music? It's resonating in hearts of image-bearers, confessing Christians or not.
Pop music has always revealed the image of God. Even when the message is warped and misguided, it serves as a mirror showing us our search for love. We know there's something out there, it's written in our hearts, and though it's a messy story of stumbling and fumbling, it's all a part of our search. And that's exactly why pop music is popular.
Mumford and Sons is equally as popular because they're singing about this same search, but instead of complaining about the cheating girlfriend, bragging about the illicit sex, avoiding a stifling marriage, or hoping for some fluffy version of us all just getting along, they're pointing to something much more transcendent. We thought we wanted the girlfriend, the sex, the bachelorhood, but with it comes betrayal, distress, and enslavement. Here comes something real. Something good and true and beautiful and liberating. And that's what we want. And it's as exhilarating as the music to which the message is set.
It all sounds like something else I've recently read:
"Nobody can give anyone else the kind or amount of love they're starved for. In the end we're all alike, groping for true love and incapable of fully giving it. What we need is someone to love us who doesn't need us at all. Someone who loves us radically, unconditionally, vulnerably, just for our sake. If we received that kind of love, that would so assure us of our value, it would so fill us up, that maybe we could start to give love like that too...when you begin to get [this love], when you begin to experience it, the fakery and manipulativeness of your own love starts to wash away, and you've got the patience and security to reach out and start giving a truer love to other people." -Timothy Keller, King's Cross
Mumford and Sons, "Sigh No More" from Sigh No More
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