The Underside of the Table

If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. From what I usually say about our table, it probably sounds that way. It's not. There are bad days. Like when one of the kids flushed a plastic dixie cup down the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. I'm sure it was fun watching it swirling down the hole--it was the perfect size to lodge in the S-curve of the toilet. I can tell you from experience that there is no Drain-O strong enough to break down a plastic dixie cup. And the roto-rooter just bored a little hole through the bottom of the cup. So the day I was taking the toilet off the floor to remove the mysterious clog, I was not basking in the afterglow of a great night at the table.

Table experiences constantly remind me of how remedial we are at relationships. One of the first things to go if you're not vigilant is the practice of listening to each other. The idea that we honor one another by listening to what each person has to say is not a self-evident truth for members of the Me generation and the Me culture. Our teenagers flubbed this last night, but we as adults struggle with it also. We can be interested in ourselves subconsciously, but it takes conscious discipline to be interested in everyone else. If we don't watch out, we can decide it's time for dessert while someone else is talking, or break into a sub-conversation at the table, or just talk too much. For me, the table is the best forum I have for learning how to value others and exercise the discipline of listening.

Still, with all our flaws, there is always at least one moment where God speaks to me. Last night, someone at the table said that they felt more spiritually grounded at the table than they had felt in bible studies in the past. I was taken back by the statement at first; after all, bible study is a very worthwhile pursuit. But it reminded me of how often we disregard the importance of a place to belong: a place where people are truly interested in us, know us, care about us, and have our best interest at heart. And we're not just supposed to have a place like that, we're called to provide that place for others. That's church to me. And as far as we still have to go, it's encouraging just to be in the game.

Published, sort of

One of my blog posts was picked up by a magazine (which will remain unidentified) recently and is scheduled to be published. The editor and I went through the customary back-and-forth of reducing the word count to fit the prescribed space alotted for it in the magazine. Since I didn't write the article for a magazine, I fully expected it to be adjusted to fit the magazine's purposes and target audience. If you've never thought about this process, rest assured that virtually nothing you read in a magazine is printed as it was originally written. However, in the end the article was also edited to remove any direct references to God. Generic "inspiration" was the order of the day, and the editor explained to me that since so many of the magazine's readers have so many different ideas about God (or god), they remove explicit references to the Deity as a matter of course. Hmmm.

Some of my readers who are Christ-followers may read this and be indignant that I didn't pull my article in protest. I never seriously considered that. I felt some obligation to consider that for a brief time, but it faded quickly. I was surprised that even the word "God" seemed to be taboo, but if so, I'm particularly glad they're printing my article. I'd rather throw my hat into that circle and enter the conversation--even if edited--than write just to an audience of Christians. I'd like people who are into "inspiration" only, who consider themselves open-minded except to Christianity, to see that someone who calls himself a Christ-follower has artistic sensibilities, that the stereotypes of Christians as lemmings or Christianity as repression just don't fit.

I don't expect the magazine to be willing to be a platform for someone's dogma. They're in it to sell magazines and ads, and my article is only valuable to them if it helps them do that. So if I, an avowed Christian, can write something that's interesting to people who don't agree with my worldview, so much the better. We'll see how it plays out.

Community and Catalytic Converters

When you say "small group," I think many people, especially guys, have an uncomfortable image in their minds of a bunch of people in a living room sharing their feelings. Last night, the guys in our group did auto repair. Blake's catalytic converter almost fell off on the way over to the house, and he didn't know how to fix it. I had the tools and Pete had the know-how and, after a quick trip to the auto parts store, Blake's exhaust system was good as new.

Real Christian community is about people sharing more than just Bible study. For us, it often starts with sharing meals, but it moves beyond that pretty quickly. Last night it was sharing tools, which is about as big as it gets in my world. I'll probably be at Pete's this week to get the grip replaced on my putter, and we're working on overhauling an old chain saw. Last week I borrowed his trailer to move some furniture. That's every bit as important as our meetings, maybe more so.

Getting Rid of the Little Black Cloud

Bad news never has good timing. For the last couple of weeks, it seems there is bad news all around. It started with Johnny's funeral and just went south from there. All of a sudden, so many friends have sick relatives or family crises. Gas is through the roof. The national economy is bad. My personal economy is bad. Bad news from another church in our area. I don't want to go to the mailbox or answer the phone--it will probably be more bad news.

What do you do when you're sick of bad news? Well, I'm not going to get drunk, so what else? I'm going to celebrate. This morning I just decided I was sick of being in the dumper all day, and I'm going to celebrate. I don't care what the newspaper says. Even with all our shortcomings, faults, and failures, I still think I live in the greatest state in the greatest country on earth, and I'm going to celebrate that today. I have an incredible family and awesome friends who have not stopped loving us even with this little black cloud hanging over our heads, and I'm going to celebrate them. I have a God who loves me, whose mercy was renewed with the morning, and I'm celebrating Him today. I'm proud of the amazing little band of people who call themselves Church @ the Springs, and I'm celebrating them today. Bad news sucks, and I'm tired of it. It's time to have some fun, whether I feel like it or not.

Saturday and Sunday afternoon, I'm DJing at the Perry Family YMCA for the grand opening of their awesome new pool. I haven't DJ'd in years, but it was my college job back in the day and I'm looking forward to it. I'm going to play party songs for 3 hours each day and dance and have fun and be reminded that life is still good. I'm going to celebrate with my church on Sunday morning, and celebrate with my table group on Sunday night. Sometimes you just have to force yourself to quit being a whiner and get some joy. If the joy of the Lord is my strength, then my whining is my weakness. It's time for some joy of the Lord.

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

I'm trying to let myself down easy today. I'm breaking off a long relationship, but it needed to happen. She just takes and takes and doesn't give as much back as she used to, and I think it's time we just went our separate ways.

I put my Jeep up for sale today. I've been a Jeep owner for 11 years; first a forest green Sahara model that I drove into the ground, then my white Rubicon for the last couple of years. I love Jeeps, and driving Jeeps has become a part of me, but it's time to move on. My family of four plus 2 dogs and gear don't fit in a Jeep, the Rubicon isn't paid for, and I could no longer justify the cost of the payments, insurance, and gas. It just isn't working any more.

All relationships are built on shared experiences, and I've had quite a few with the Jeeps. I survived the infamous hurricane evac in my Sahara. After 16 hours at the wheel, I was pushing my leg down with my arms to depress the clutch pedal. But with the windows and doors off, I had some great conversations with people stuck on the road with me all night. 150,000 miles later I traded her in on the Rubicon, my ultimate Jeep of all Jeeps. I haven't stopped accessorizing her since she arrived at our house: the lift kit and off-road tires, the congo cage on top to carry my kayak or camping gear, the hi-lift jack mounted on the bumper, performance air intake, the list goes on. Due to no fault of their own--both Jeeps have been extremely reliable--the old acronym has held true: JEEP stands for Just Empty Every Pocket. There's just no end to the ways you can modify a Jeep, and it's been one of my favorite pastimes.

I'll miss waving at all the other Jeep owners on the road, something I think is unique among Jeepers. I'll miss being approached by strangers who have a question about some modification I've made to the Rubicon. I'll even miss those days I got caught in a rain storm with the top off. I'm learning a lesson all over again, one that I should have learned long ago about cars and guitars and favorite baseball gloves that the dog chewed up. They're just stuff, and you better not get too emotionally attached.

So Adieu, lady Rubicon. It was great while it lasted, but you're a luxury I can no longer afford. We'll always have Paris-uh, I mean the duck hunt last winter.