Lesson Learned

Note to self: staying up til 3:30 AM Christmas Eve, no matter how noble the reason, makes Christmas day just a bit less merry.

Leaving Keys

The very first phrase we learned in French class:

"J'ai laissé mes clés."
which translates as
"I left my keys."

Not the most immediately useful phrase, but it was taught to us in order to learn the vowel sound that is found in every syllable of the sentence. In his typical humor, our professor said that now when a French person tried talking to us, we could simply respond by saying the only phrase we knew, "I left my keys."

Six months later, it was the morning of the kid's birthday party, just a few days after my wife and newborn had returned home. I ran down to our storage unit in the basement to retrieve a few things. Details aside, Erica's key ring had the key to get into the main door, my key ring had the key to open the lock on our unit, and so I marched down with two sets of keys. When I opened our door, I set both sets down and began searching. I said to myself, "That's stupid, don't forget to pick them up on your way out." Attention obviously elsewhere, I got what I needed, locked up, left, and went back upstairs, and as I went to open our apartment door I realized.

Every key in our possession, locked behind two doors in the basement. Already running late to set up for the party happening at our school, too early to ask a neighbor for help, no longer able to drive all of the things we needed to the party, and unable to leave our apartment or our building without having absolutely no way to get back in...this was quite the predicament.

I waited a little while until someone was more likely to be awake, then listened outside of my nice neighbors' door for some noise. When I heard some, I gulped down the cowardice and knocked. When it opened, I gave a greeting, then proudly used the phrase with perfect pronunciation: J'ai laissé mes clés...

I got what I needed, but that only opened the first door. Thankfully I laid the keys close inside the second, which had wooden slats with narrow openings between each. With my trusty broom handle, I flipped the box toward the door, and the keys came sliding right to the entrance at the bottom opening. All things told, the predicament was worked out fairly easily. Not the best way to start birthday party day, but could have been worse.

Now here we are another six months later, and I cannot find the key to the first basement door. Nowhere to be found. It was loose in my pocket, and assuming it fell out somewhere when I pulled out the others. It's a key I've been meaning to copy since the last incident.

And it's a problem because, well, it just may have been the choice hiding spot for a few Christmas presents this year. And when an elf locks everyone out of Santa's workshop 2 days before the big event.......it just kind of puts a damper on the festivities, no?

Time to quit telling you about it and find a solution, I suppose.

Turned my back for a second...

Walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree leaning at a 60 degree angle with the bottom strand of lights turned to their hyper-flash mode.

Asked the kid what he knew about it. Nothing.

Darn cat.

Advent 21: Wonder

Remember the way Christmas lights looked when you were a kid?

After a delayed daytime nap led to a delayed bedtime, the kid and I took a night walk to see the lights in town.

I tried to get him to turn around for a picture. He was too busy staring.

Worth Remembering

I don't remember consciously making the decision to stop listening to Mates of State. But it happened, and I'm still not sure why, though it might have had something to do with the cover of Bring it Back. Watching this video made me regret stopping. Worth remembering, worth listening.

My first introduction to them was shortly after their debut album when we hosted them at Taylor. It was one of the first legit concerts the year I joined the team that put those things on. And they were great.

What's so instantly likeable? The rhythm? The tonality of their voices? The simplicity? The way they stare at each other each time they play? The sound of a sunny day? The fulfilled hope that real and playful love could actually exist in a marriage and produce something as joyful and wonderful as this music?

Not to mention the likeability of these Tiny Desk concerts....

Advent 20: Smart Oxen

Where there are mangers, there are usually animals. That's the simple logical deduction that has created all sorts of tradition around the animals that welcomed Jesus at his birth.

And if there were in fact animals present to greet their Lord, I love what it does to the very first thing Isaiah has to tell us:

Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth;
for the LORD has spoken:
"Children have I reared and brought up,
but they have rebelled against me.
The ox knows its owner,
and the donkey its master’s crib,
but Israel does not know,
my people do not understand."
Isaiah 1:2-3

His being born into manger not only allows oxen and donkeys to be the first to recognize him, but it serves as the sign for those with eyes to see to recognize him as well, in contrast to Israel's ignorance.

And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.
Luke 2:12

He's a man born differently, humbly. He enters the world among the most poor, and his first visitors are the only ones poor and smelly enough to feel comfortable visiting a baby that's laying in a manger. The upside-down kingdom gets it start on the very first day.

And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger....and the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Luke 2:16, 20

The (not as) New Guy, 6

I celebrated the completion of language school by going to the huge book store and asking a very French looking man who was a complete stranger for help in finding some titles of some classic children's books using the conditional verb tense with a soutenu subject-verb inversion for extra politesse. He couldn't give all that much help but seemed eager nonetheless and never once asked me to repeat myself. The success of talking to a complete stranger made up for the disappointment of walking out only with a few flimsy paperbacks from the Madame Monsieur series.

Advent 19: On Knowing a Baby, On Knowing the World

There are 7 billion people in our world, we've been told. A quick Google search tells me somewhere around 490 thousand babies are born each day. I'm not about to begin trying to figure out how statisticians know. Suffice it to say, that's a lot people.

My wife and I had a baby this year. In those moments after his arrival, I swear I was the proudest man on earth. "My son has arrived!" I wanted everyone to know, I assumed everyone already knew. For several hours the entire hospital revolved around me and my news. From the head sage-femme to the janitor emptying the trash out the back basement door, from the woman in the labor room next door to boy in the ER with a broken pinky, I was convinced everyone knew and was just as happy as I was.

It didn't take long to realize the dad in the room next to me was thinking the same thing about his son. To the maternity ward staff, we were just another day's work, out the door five days later. And to the boy leaving with a splint and a prescription for Tylenol, well, he didn't even know we existed. Despite my pride, we were just one in 490 thousand, one in 7 billion.

Then there was that baby in the cattle shed, even more unnoticed than we were. Mary and Joseph had every reason and right to believe their baby was special. If anyone could make the claim, it was them. But why weren't people noticing? Why were they all alone with the animals? The shepherds came to recognize the significance and share in the joy, and that brought relief. (I know all too well the desire and need to share that joy with someone, anyone.) But for quite some time, it appeared as though this baby might get forgotten with all the others, known to his parents but lost in a crowd.

Interesting, this talk of numbers, because that's what brought Jesus' parents to the Bethlehem stable in the first place. Luke 2:1 tells us Caesar Augustus makes the announcement: He's going to do a census to count the entire world. An audacious undertaking, especially at the time.

But here it is, an attempt to get some sort of grasp on just who exists and how many of them are there. An attempt to know the world. But in the end, it's just numbers. Sure we might collect names and information, but all the same, just numbers.

And among those people being counted in Bethlehem is a newborn baby. To Caesar Augustus, just one of millions, but in reality this newborn baby is a king infinitely more powerful, already knowing the world. He knows the world not just in numbers, but in each and every individual. And intimately so. Without counting, without the logistical nightmare of an audacious census, he already knows every detail of every human being. Years later he would explain to his followers, "But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."

And because he knows us, because we are of value to him, the all-knowing king lays aside his glory to become one of us, lost in the crowd, a descendant reporting to Bethlehem, one of 490 thousand, one of 7 billion, one of the counted.

But of course, he wouldn't stay that way. He very soon would grow up to be Jesus the One and Only.

[Credit where credit is due: this was very much inspired by the Lutheran pastor who spoke in our chapel service at school today. He has now given two of the most profound Christmas meditations that I have heard in recent memory, in 10 minutes each, both of which have made me want to find his church and attend for a little while. I am just happy I can finally understand him after a year and appreciate all he has to say...I am sure his meditations at the beginning of the year were equally as profound, but I had absolutely no way of knowing...]

Light

Nearly a year at our new home, and we finally got in for the first time to see the tower at night. A clearing sky with the full moon lighting the clouds. What took us so long?

Advent 18: Never The Chance to Say

John 1:5 The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

Advent 17: We Need a Place to Hide!

Isaiah 2:
Their land is filled with idols;
they bow down to the work of their hands,
to what their own fingers have made.
So man is humbled,
and each one is brought low—
do not forgive them!
Enter into the rock
and hide in the dust
from before the terror of the LORD,
and from the splendor of his majesty.
The haughty looks of man shall be brought low,
and the lofty pride of men shall be humbled,
and the LORD alone will be exalted in that day.
And the idols shall utterly pass away.
And people shall enter the caves of the rocks
and the holes of the ground,
from before the terror of the LORD,
and from the splendor of his majesty,
when he rises to terrify the earth.
In that day mankind will cast away
their idols of silver and their idols of gold,
which they made for themselves to worship,
to the moles and to the bats,
to enter the caverns of the rocks
and the clefts of the cliffs,
from before the terror of the LORD,
and from the splendor of his majesty,
when he rises to terrify the earth.

Revelation 6:15-17
Then the kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling to the mountains and rocks, "Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb, for the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand?"

--
We have made much of ourselves. This cannot be overstated.

The greatness of the majesty and holiness of God, his perfection in judgment and righteousness in wrath, is beyond our comprehension, and terrifyingly so. Neither can this be overstated.

And if we were to face that day where this is laid bare for all to see, we literally must run for the hills, finding rocks in which to hide ourselves. We need a place to hide.

But then a baby comes, and the people in darkness have seen a great light. In the clarity of this Light, we see ourselves for who we truly are, and we see God for who he truly is. It's absolutely devastating (he is full of truth)...until we realize this baby will become our hiding place (he is full of grace)...
--

Colossians 3:3-4
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.


Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in thee;
let the water and the blood
from thy wounded side which flowed
be of sin the double cure,
save from wrath and make me pure.

Mix Tape: Enchantment

There's a pretty hip little alternative-music-culture center down the street from us. Feels a little unusual for a town like ours, but it seems to enjoy some success. I've wanted to visit for a good 11 months or so, but have always had a reason not to: not quite my genre certain nights, or another obligation, or otherwise exhausted.

But when the new season launched in September, I read about bands doing shows for kids and of course I was immediately interested. I think it only happens four times this year. I listened to one long enough to realize it wouldn't be a waste of money, and one day the kid and I walked over to buy our tickets.

Turns out this band, Moriarty, is actually quite popular around here. Popular enough to have two gold records in France and to play all the largest clubs in Paris with some amount of regularity. Turns out the show later that night was sold out pretty quickly. Turns out this 4PM kids show also ended up being sold out. Not a bad gig to get in on, then.

Now, don't be confused, this isn't kids music. It's your average folk-rock-alt-country-(in-all-the-good-ways)-with-some-strong-grooves-telling-you-they-probably-listen-to-some-funk-and-soul-in-their-spare-time that would normally be listened to by adults. The only trick is that it's super easy to listen to, even if you're a kid, and so why not share it with them too?

And if this were to be done in the States, we'd introduce each of the band members, they'd say some goofy stuff, we'd introduce the instruments, throw around some music jargon, and take advantage of the teaching moment. Most times I believe it'd be a sort of very open, transparent, sometimes silly learning environment. That's not bad, but that's not France.

We've heard from quite a few sources that "seduction" is a key element to the French culture. We Americans instantly get nervous with the word, but it really doesn't have an implicit sexual meaning like it does for us. So try and erase that definition for the moment. Instead it's simply making things aesthetically pleasing in an attractive sort of way that captures and keeps the attention. Perhaps "enchanting" is a better word for our American minds.

And that's exactly what this production was.

An actress came out first, a sort of prop for holding attention spans when the music would inevitably begin to fail. She was named Isabella. When she had discovered the band was late, she tucked herself in and went to sleep on the front of the stage. The band tiptoed out, took their places, and whispered, "Let's try not to wake her." And with that, they slyly slipped into their first song "Isabella."

From then on, never once did any of them break character or interrupt the show, with enough curious visual elements and instrument changes (and a few animal masks, balloons, and bubbles along the way) to keep things interesting. The kid had been insisting that afternoon that he didn't want to go, and he spent 15 minutes of waiting before the show with his hands over his ears insisting it was too loud. But as soon as the music started, the hands dropped and his eyes were fixed. I caught him tapping his feet, and toward the end he joined in clapping when each song finished. I think he was enchanted, too.

To introduce my favorite song of the afternoon, the singer explained, "This is a song about a friendship between a mermaid and a tiger. You know what a mermaid is?" Ouiiiiiiiii. "And a tiger?" Ouiiiiiiiiiiii. "Where does a mermaid live?" l'océan! "And where does a tiger live?" la jungle! "And so everybody might say that a friendship between a mermaid and a tiger is impossible. But, it is possible."

This is Moriarty, "Beasty Jane" from The Missing Room

Advent 16: A Better Santa

Now that we're parents, my wife and I realize more all the time just how downright creepy the song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" is.

He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness sake, better watch out, better not cry, better not pout...

Big brother is always watching. An underhanded ploy for behavior modification set to such a jolly and innocent tune, this is downright twisted, the stuff communist regimes are made of. (OK, maybe that's a distasteful exaggeration...but...)

It's no secret that there is some strange, uncanny, and disturbing resemblance between Santa and God. Most obviously, it's in the all-knowing ever-present part. Before we're tempted to go further, I'd like to suggest that the resemblance stops there.

Because this part about being good in order to get presents...this part bothers me. It's too easy to believe God works that way too. You earn your gifts, you get what you deserve. The better you are, the better the gift. But if you've been bad, nothing but coal.

And the nagging question remains, just what is good? Who sets the standard? How good is good enough? What tips the scale in my favor? Is it not doing anything bad, like punching my classmate? Isn't it also making sure we don't neglect to do everything good, like giving my coat to the person who doesn't have one? All of a sudden, the month of December is a lot more dreary and even more exhausting, trying to keep up with these demands, what has become an unmanageable burden.

(And there's also the curious fact that we've never known the naughty kids to really get coal...they get toys like the rest of us...so what does that mean?)

But this is not the way God works through sending Jesus to us. He defines "good" and sets the standard high: perfection. But he knows we are unable to be good enough, giving us Jesus who meets the demand on our behalf. It's the message of grace, and with it comes freedom, joy, peace.

But we still have such a hard time understanding grace in our world. This message of grace is not one of "Do what you want and get away with it." Instead, it's something like "His desire and love for you has absolutely no correlation with your behavior or your merit. They are unrelated, separate issues, for he wants you as you are, good, bad, or somewhere in between." This is a foreign concept. Approval and behavior are always related in our merit-based society, and therein lies the confusion.

Bonhoeffer puts it this way: "But it is the grace of the Gospel, which is so hard for the pious to understand, that confronts us with the truth and says: You are a sinner, a great, desperate sinner; now come, as the sinner that you are, to God who loves you. He wants you as you are; He does not want anything from you, a sacrifice, a work; He wants you alone...Be glad!" (from Life Together)

Is this not an infinitely better message than that of twisted behavior modification?

Not only that, but he gives better presents too.