Televised Olympics in France are not quite the same as in the States. It's been a long day of judo, fencing, cycling, and badminton.
But even that doesn't fail to inspire. After cycling, the kid asked to go on a bike ride, and he pedaled that tricycle like a gold medal depended on it. After a few short minutes of gymnastics, we saw successful 180 degree jumps with attempts for 360, and confident, capable somersaults which he insists on calling, "push up rolls."
As for badminton--surprisingly intense--only one logical question remained: "What's bad about it?"
And now the men are about to swim in the same size pool he has his swimming class in, but he has already worn himself out. He's qualified for the finals in the falling-asleep-on-the-couch event, but I'm sure to give him a run for his money before the end of these next two weeks.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
un Petit Oiseau et un Matématicien
Turns out that show I discovered the other week is in fact a weekly event, and it has quickly become part of my routine. I'm loving some of the discoveries it's providing...
Two of my new favorites singing together:
Then there's this fella singing a trick of a song. Still not really sure what he's saying, and if you don't get it either, just try saying "Ta Katie T'a Quitté" as fast as he does and your admiration will quickly grow. He was called a mathematician, and it's true that these lyrics are perfectly, ingeniously calculated:
Two of my new favorites singing together:
Then there's this fella singing a trick of a song. Still not really sure what he's saying, and if you don't get it either, just try saying "Ta Katie T'a Quitté" as fast as he does and your admiration will quickly grow. He was called a mathematician, and it's true that these lyrics are perfectly, ingeniously calculated:
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Raising Photographers
One of the great responsibilities of parenting is knowing the reality that kids learn the most from you not from what you say or teach but from what you model.
That probably means a lot of things in this case, like my boys won't grow up to exercise, nor will they wash their cars, but they might whistle fairly often.
When our little engineer started asking his mother how her camera worked last night, he took it up in his hands, spun the zoom back and forth, framed up the photo, and took one of his first shots on this digital SLR. Such was his pride and interest that we realized photography is one of the things we model most consistently in these wild lives of ours, and so it will make perfect sense of these boys grow up to be photographers.
And we proud parents would like to think that if this shot as a 4-year-old is any indication, we could be on to something good...
That probably means a lot of things in this case, like my boys won't grow up to exercise, nor will they wash their cars, but they might whistle fairly often.
When our little engineer started asking his mother how her camera worked last night, he took it up in his hands, spun the zoom back and forth, framed up the photo, and took one of his first shots on this digital SLR. Such was his pride and interest that we realized photography is one of the things we model most consistently in these wild lives of ours, and so it will make perfect sense of these boys grow up to be photographers.
And we proud parents would like to think that if this shot as a 4-year-old is any indication, we could be on to something good...
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Waiting for Organic to Happen
I'm currently working on assignment of sorts with four other people, discussing the whys and hows of Christian community. I'm glad to be a part, as it's a topic that has captured by attention for some time now.
No matter how many times I read Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, I am struck by how he highlights Christian community for the extraordinary and unique thing that it is. It's usually not exactly what you think it is, nor is it exactly what you think you want, nor is it necessarily easy to attain.
And in these current discussions we're discovering community as the means for transformation, one of the primarily modes of advancing our sanctification. At the risk of throwing one good thing out for another, I think it's still fair to say you won't become more like Jesus just by reading more books or doing more Bible studies or listening to more podcasts or getting more seminary degrees. No, you will become like Jesus by blundering your way through life next to brothers and sisters who love you enough to welcome you and love you enough to exhort you.
Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.
Ephesians 4:11-14 says that God has gifted each one of us differently for a specific purpose: so that we will all be equipped for ministry, and so that we will reach unity, maturity and stability in Christ. How does that happen? Verse 15 says by "speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ."
We grow into Christ specifically by one person speaking the truth to another in love. My experience tells me it's something we say often but rarely do well. When was the last time you lovingly spoke the truth to someone? When was the last time someone lovingly spoke the truth to you?
But in this group that's been discussing, we started a list of why this sort of Christian community doesn't happen. One reason captured by attention, surprised me, because my generation--who talks an awful lot about community--is guilty.
One reason community doesn't happen: we aren't specific, clear, or intentional enough because we're waiting for something spontaneous and organic.
We want something organic. Somewhere along the line we decided something isn't real unless it's organic, feels natural. We can't force it, can't control it, can't contain it, can't dictate it, because then it wouldn't be authentic. If we put too many constraints on it, give too many directives, it would no longer be genuine.
But waiting around for real, transformative Christian community to 'just happen' is kind of like waiting for a beautiful rosebush to naturally spring up in your back yard. The real thing takes hard work and intentional care, everything else is just weeds.
Because what really happens when we wait for something organic? It seems to me we are leaving things up to a feeling or to our natural desires. And left to ourselves, we will rarely choose real, transformative community, knowing it will constantly force us out of hiding and into the light, it will lead to vulnerability, conflict, confession, admission of wrong, tough love and costly forgiveness.
Those things are threatening and uncomfortable, and so most of us would prefer to hide on Facebook. Organic rarely gets us past the surface of status updates; it maintains a distance that avoids the hard stuff. Organic may give us a good time with people who are just like us, but it will never push us to the "measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ."
The other thing that's slowly being revealed? I love talking about God's design for community, but have rarely taken part, rarely led the way.
No matter how many times I read Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, I am struck by how he highlights Christian community for the extraordinary and unique thing that it is. It's usually not exactly what you think it is, nor is it exactly what you think you want, nor is it necessarily easy to attain.
And in these current discussions we're discovering community as the means for transformation, one of the primarily modes of advancing our sanctification. At the risk of throwing one good thing out for another, I think it's still fair to say you won't become more like Jesus just by reading more books or doing more Bible studies or listening to more podcasts or getting more seminary degrees. No, you will become like Jesus by blundering your way through life next to brothers and sisters who love you enough to welcome you and love you enough to exhort you.
Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.
Ephesians 4:11-14 says that God has gifted each one of us differently for a specific purpose: so that we will all be equipped for ministry, and so that we will reach unity, maturity and stability in Christ. How does that happen? Verse 15 says by "speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ."
We grow into Christ specifically by one person speaking the truth to another in love. My experience tells me it's something we say often but rarely do well. When was the last time you lovingly spoke the truth to someone? When was the last time someone lovingly spoke the truth to you?
But in this group that's been discussing, we started a list of why this sort of Christian community doesn't happen. One reason captured by attention, surprised me, because my generation--who talks an awful lot about community--is guilty.
One reason community doesn't happen: we aren't specific, clear, or intentional enough because we're waiting for something spontaneous and organic.
We want something organic. Somewhere along the line we decided something isn't real unless it's organic, feels natural. We can't force it, can't control it, can't contain it, can't dictate it, because then it wouldn't be authentic. If we put too many constraints on it, give too many directives, it would no longer be genuine.
But waiting around for real, transformative Christian community to 'just happen' is kind of like waiting for a beautiful rosebush to naturally spring up in your back yard. The real thing takes hard work and intentional care, everything else is just weeds.
Because what really happens when we wait for something organic? It seems to me we are leaving things up to a feeling or to our natural desires. And left to ourselves, we will rarely choose real, transformative community, knowing it will constantly force us out of hiding and into the light, it will lead to vulnerability, conflict, confession, admission of wrong, tough love and costly forgiveness.
Those things are threatening and uncomfortable, and so most of us would prefer to hide on Facebook. Organic rarely gets us past the surface of status updates; it maintains a distance that avoids the hard stuff. Organic may give us a good time with people who are just like us, but it will never push us to the "measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ."
The other thing that's slowly being revealed? I love talking about God's design for community, but have rarely taken part, rarely led the way.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Playing Curator
My wife takes pretty good pictures.
Back when she was a month or so away from having a child, she still found ways to take some pictures most days, but she understandably stopped posting 'a photo a day' on her little photoblog site.
Since having a child, she's still taken plenty of photos, and some really good ones, but that site has sadly laid dormant for well over a year. Because the task just becomes increasingly daunting: it doesn't seem right to just start again; but it seems impossible to catch up.
Now that there are over 17,000 pictures on our hard drive and we keep getting messages that there is not enough space for things, I've been the one that gets to sort and clean a lot of them off. And so, once I got up to April 2011, I realized something needed to happen before clicking delete. (Don't worry, we're saving them on an external hard drive...not just deleting...)
And so, I've taken it upon myself to become the official curator of "1000 words." And I'm having a blast! So, head on over there and check out her work, being revealed slowly but surely. Enjoy it while it lasts, because I'm not sure how long she'll let me be in control of this endeavor... :)
Back when she was a month or so away from having a child, she still found ways to take some pictures most days, but she understandably stopped posting 'a photo a day' on her little photoblog site.
Since having a child, she's still taken plenty of photos, and some really good ones, but that site has sadly laid dormant for well over a year. Because the task just becomes increasingly daunting: it doesn't seem right to just start again; but it seems impossible to catch up.
Now that there are over 17,000 pictures on our hard drive and we keep getting messages that there is not enough space for things, I've been the one that gets to sort and clean a lot of them off. And so, once I got up to April 2011, I realized something needed to happen before clicking delete. (Don't worry, we're saving them on an external hard drive...not just deleting...)
And so, I've taken it upon myself to become the official curator of "1000 words." And I'm having a blast! So, head on over there and check out her work, being revealed slowly but surely. Enjoy it while it lasts, because I'm not sure how long she'll let me be in control of this endeavor... :)
Friday, July 06, 2012
Take and Eat
A new book has me a little fascinated and thinking a lot about eating, and I'm sure you'll be hearing more about it from me in coming weeks: A Meal with Jesus puts an emphasis on what seems to be Christ's bizarrely obsessive fixation on food and drink during his time here on earth. It's a little surprising, refreshingly thought-provoking. But it begins to make perfect sense that Jesus chooses to give his followers a meal by which to remember him.
I don't intend to delve into any real theology behind the communion meal here and now. But my thoughts are drifting in that direction for another reason as well, a new song by The Welcome Wagon.
Speaking from my narrow experience, I've begun to think it strange, the somber and almost hesitant approach American Evangelicals take towards communion. The music, the hushed tone, the warnings, seem almost to be focused on a sense of guilt more than anything, almost as if we're trying to talk people out of participating. We take Paul's exhortation to self-examination and somehow decide you can only properly take the communion meal if you feel sad about it or bad about it.
But just as Christ seems to be constantly inviting people to a meal (or in some cases inviting himself!), he invites us here as well. More than that, to his disciples, it seemed even stronger: Take! Share! Eat! Do this! Less of an invitation and more of pushy grandmother "offering" second helpings.
And so, if you belong to him, if you are hungry and thirsty, his grace tells us there is no need to hesitate: come, participate fully and joyfully.
And so I love this sweet little communion song, balancing a hushed melancholy with the warm hospitality of your mother's kitchen. With it's charming wandering clarinet riff, the song, like Jesus, invites you in, pulls up a chair for you, welcomes you to the table, reassures you, and makes your heart glad for the grace that allows you to partake.
(The rest of this new album is worth checking out too! Not much will grab you the first time around, but I've found it grows with time.)
These lyrics are taken from a 7th century Irish monastery...
Draw nigh and take the body of the Lord
And drink the holy blood for you outpoured
Offered was He for greatest and for least
Himself the Victim and Himself the Priest
He that His saints in this world rules and shields
To all believers life eternal yields
With heavenly bread makes them that hunger whole
Gives living waters to the thirsting soul
Approach ye, then, with faithful hearts sincere
And take the pledges of salvation here
O Judge of all, our only Savior Thou
in this Thy feast of love be with us now
I don't intend to delve into any real theology behind the communion meal here and now. But my thoughts are drifting in that direction for another reason as well, a new song by The Welcome Wagon.
Speaking from my narrow experience, I've begun to think it strange, the somber and almost hesitant approach American Evangelicals take towards communion. The music, the hushed tone, the warnings, seem almost to be focused on a sense of guilt more than anything, almost as if we're trying to talk people out of participating. We take Paul's exhortation to self-examination and somehow decide you can only properly take the communion meal if you feel sad about it or bad about it.
But just as Christ seems to be constantly inviting people to a meal (or in some cases inviting himself!), he invites us here as well. More than that, to his disciples, it seemed even stronger: Take! Share! Eat! Do this! Less of an invitation and more of pushy grandmother "offering" second helpings.
And so, if you belong to him, if you are hungry and thirsty, his grace tells us there is no need to hesitate: come, participate fully and joyfully.
And so I love this sweet little communion song, balancing a hushed melancholy with the warm hospitality of your mother's kitchen. With it's charming wandering clarinet riff, the song, like Jesus, invites you in, pulls up a chair for you, welcomes you to the table, reassures you, and makes your heart glad for the grace that allows you to partake.
(The rest of this new album is worth checking out too! Not much will grab you the first time around, but I've found it grows with time.)
These lyrics are taken from a 7th century Irish monastery...
Draw nigh and take the body of the Lord
And drink the holy blood for you outpoured
Offered was He for greatest and for least
Himself the Victim and Himself the Priest
He that His saints in this world rules and shields
To all believers life eternal yields
With heavenly bread makes them that hunger whole
Gives living waters to the thirsting soul
Approach ye, then, with faithful hearts sincere
And take the pledges of salvation here
O Judge of all, our only Savior Thou
in this Thy feast of love be with us now
Monday, July 02, 2012
Love Stories Finish Poorly, in General
Caught the second half of a documentary TV show with musicians talking about classic music, tonight's theme being love, and I think I discovered my new favorite French band...
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