Blue Like Jazz

I put the "pro" in "procrastination."  One of these days I'll get back on a regular posting schedule, but there's a lot going on right now and I'm trying to maintain my center.  Anywho, one thing I really want to talk about is the film Blue Like Jazz.

I've seen it twice now; once opening weekend and again a couple of days later.  It's that good.

Apparently, the project to produce this film started about six years ago and then they ran out of money.  Someone suggested they check out Kickstarter.com.  They did, and in 30 days raised enough money (and then some) to complete production.  The film was released on April 13, 2012.  It's kind of like an indie film with really, really wide release.

Actually, that's exactly what it is.

Anyway, it's a film adaptation of Donald Miller's book of the same title, Blue Like Jazz. I read it a few years ago, back in '06 or '07 and really liked it.  I thought of it as the book I was aspiring to write.  Instead, this yahoo, Miller, beat me to it.  It's not like I've had anything published yet, anyway.  It's just one of those things.

I haven't read it since, though I enjoyed it very much.  I was excited to hear about the film, especially after seeing the trailer.  I was thinking to myself, wow!  This looks like an honest-to-goodness honest film made by Christians, not a Christian propaganda piece made by Christians!

Going into it, I was glad I had only read the book once and didn't remember much about it because then my expectations were able to be fairly broad.  I only expected that it'd be honest, it'd be real, and it'd be an authentic account of a young man struggling to make sense of his faith and the world around him.  In those senses, all expectations were fulfilled - in all other senses, I was blown away.

Now, I knew this film was going to be edgy.  It was going to be edgy because it was going to be honest; honest almost to the point of transparency.  The difference is, being honest is being real, but with discretion and thoughtfulness.  Transparency is being real but without a filter of any sort.  You get the warts and dirty laundry as it comes; that, along with the good stuff, is practically thrown at you rather than entrusted as you get better acquainted with an individual.

Transparency I can handle; honesty, that's a little tougher.

With transparency, it's all out there; you know what to expect.  It's simpler, though it's messier.  Plus it's similar to how I primarily function when I'm not paying attention.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve; I'm typically on or off in any given situation - there's no room for in-between, just chilling - again - when I'm not paying attention.

Honesty?  Well, that's different.  It's scary.  God is honest with us, but He's not transparent.  He doesn't lay all His cards out on the table; He entrusts with a little bit of knowledge, bit by bit.  And that's how it's to be in all relationships.

You don't lay out all your cards at once; you wait and see if the individual across from you is trustworthy, for each card is a piece of your soul being revealed.  How do you know that person isn't just going to take that piece of you and trash it?

Alas, I digress...

Honesty is more difficult than transparency because you can't lay out a map of how to predict the other person's behavior, you can't just categorize individuals and make the business of a relationship so easy to deal with.

People are people - not things to be put in boxes.  All areas of our lives bleed over into the other and back and forth, and vice versa, and so on and so forth.

I have to let people be people and that's scary because getting each successive card also takes commitment - it takes time and a commitment to share some of your self with this person.

It's scary on one hand because what if you commit yourself to a lot of time with this person only to find you don't like what you're finding?  Or regardless of if you like what you discover or not, you realize it just won't work; what then?

It's scary on the other hand because what if, card by card, piece by piece, you reveal more of who you are and then the other person decides he/she doesn't like what he/she sees?  The prospect of rejection looms over us all at some point.

So, what does that have to do with Blue Like Jazz?  Like I said, it's an honest movie.  The narrative doesn't play its full deck immediately.  But like when you get to know someone, bit-by-bit we learn more about it and I was thinking to myself, how on earth is this ever going to come back around to Jesus in a meaningful way?

In its honesty and candor, the filmmakers pull no punches as to what life was like for Miller in college, and they accurately portray the life of a statistically typical college freshman in all its drinking and debauchery and mischief - but never to the point of exploitation.  That is to say, there are no sex scenes (there's not even a kiss!), the cussing is realistic but not gratuitous, and one particular prank that is pulled...well, it's done and I was shocked.

Me - I was shocked at what I saw portrayed in the movie.  I was actually uncomfortable.  My self-righteousitis flared up and I found myself thinking, how on earth is God going to be glorified in this??!

Well, it all comes together in the end.  When the final scene started taking on its heft and depth, my heart was in my throat and I nearly cried.

The story makes me think of my own: raised in the church, lived as a naive Jesus Freak in high school, went off to college out of my Christian bubble and began to question my faith.  I went through my own prodigal years, my time of questioning and doubt, my time of pain.  None of that weakened my faith just as the first 7/8s of the film don't weaken the story; all of that is tinder for the fire of God's love - in my heart and in what's communicated in the heart of the film.

So, for the doubters, the philosophers, the seekers, the founders, the whomevers, I highly recommend this film.  It is enjoyable, it's fun, it's poignant, it's sad - it's a meaningful dramatization of the human experience.

And if you're like me, wondering what some of the songs in the movie are, the one that involves a bear and a bicycle is called, Bicycle Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle by Be Your Own Pet.

The song featured in the trailer and in the film when Miller hits his catharsis is called Taos and it's by Menomena.

So that's all.  Go see it.

It's The Sailor's Life For Me!

“He curses like a sailor.”

It wasn’t until I started interacting with actual Sailors and future Sailors that I came to see the above is not just a clever saying remarking on a bygone era; it holds true today. 


More after the jump...

Eat the Strawberries

Sometimes you're stuck between a rock and a hard place (or "the Rock and a hard case" if you're Sean Connery).  What do you do?  Fret and worry your way out of it?  Resign yourself to failure?  Or maybe just live in the moment, knowing you've done and/or are doing the best you can?  Today's drawing after the jump...

The Southern Accent and God is Doing a Nu Thang

Two things I love: the Southern accent and watching God work.

More after el jumpo:

Ya Got a Mean Hook, There

Freshman year of college I got involved with a campus ministry at ECU.  We had this weekly meeting on Thursday nights meant to be for outreach to the lost college students (in a spiritual sense, not just freshmen who couldn’t find their way around campus) to get ‘em in somewhere and hear about Jesus.

Now, you can’t just say to someone, “Hey, come to this thing at the student center on Thursday to hear about Jesus!”  There has to be a hook.  Don’t the Apostles use hooks in the book Acts?  They are fishermen, for goodness’ sake.  Anyway, the hook for the Thursday night meetings was some kind of skit or something and then someone would share their testimony about how they became a Christian. 

The skits were a lot of fun to produce.  I was involved with a few.  There was a guy who did a great Chris Farley impression and some of us recreated the original sketch from SNL featuring Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker (I played Phil Hartman’s role).  Another time we did a musical number from the Planet of the Apes the Musical.  Another time some guy produced a video Matrix spoof.  All this was great fun.  The entertainment part of the show took about 15-20 minutes and usually garnered great responses.  I want to say there was a singing component, too…  And then someone would give a five minute testimony – five minutes to communicate to an audience of thirty or more how his or her life had been changed forever.

About 40 minutes of entertainment, five minutes about God.

Now, this was over ten years ago.  I have no idea how things are going now.  But since that time, I’ve observed similar happenings.  It could be youth conferences, church events, other ministry events, whatever, there has to be some kind of thing to grab people’s attention and then, oh yeah, now that you’re here you’re going to hear about the gospel.

Lately, I’ve been observing a theme emerging from different sermons I’ve listened to, blogs I’ve read, and conversations I’ve had with people: Why use a hook?  The Apostles did not use hooks; Jesus did not use hooks; Paul did not use hooks – they just went around proclaiming the gospel.  Now, I don’t mean in the fashion of the street preachers you sometimes see, though sometimes they would get into a discussion and then draw a crowd, but that was because their message was their hook.  And not only their message, but their obvious belief in that message manifested in how they lived.

When I think of hooks (aside from fishing equipment or villainous captains) I think of sleazy salesmen trying to huckster unsuspecting fools – that is to say, taking advantage of people.  Saying all that to say, many people use hooks with good intentions.  I mean, who hasn’t at some point in their life?  But, we all know what road good intentions pave.  Perhaps we just need to believe what the Bible says; perhaps we just need to believe in the power of the gospel and not secondary means. 

As always, easier said than done, but not impossible.

Keep Calm and Carry On

This is my current journal.  Before I purchased it, I’d begun noticing this slogan, or motto, cropping up more and more frequently in my environment.  I have an idea or two why this seems to be having a resurgence in popularity in our culture, but I won’t get into that now.

For those of you unfamiliar, this is not related to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Don’t panic!!).  Before the graphic became the cover for a journal it was a poster – rather a whole bunch of posters – produced by the British government at the onset of World War II to help maintain the morale of the British citizens.  “Though war and chaos is breaking out around and in our country, keep calm and carry on.”

Yesterday morning I was at Caribou before church doing a bit of journaling and such.  When I finished, I closed it up and placed it on my Bible and just sat there for a bit, letting the excess thoughts drain from my mind.  Then I glanced down and for a moment it looked as though my journal and Bible were one and the same and I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be rather fitting if this were on the cover of our Bibles?  I mean, isn’t that the point?  When strife and chaos breaks out in and around our lives should we freak out?  No.  God is in control.  He loves us, we have a place reserved in heaven – just keep calm and carry on.

Anchors Aweigh!

Remember last week’s post on waiting?  Well, last Thursday I got a text from my recruiter saying that some jobs might be opening up and that I would know for sure on Friday or Monday.  Friday happened, I got down with some friends, but I didn’t hear anything regarding Navy jobs.  Saturday happened, Sunday happened, and while I wasn’t expecting to hear anything over the weekend, doubt still managed to creep in.

Come Monday morning all kinds of reasons as to why I shouldn’t get in or hear anything were jumping around in my head like a herd of poisonous toads.  But then shortly after noon I got the message: “Hey Cliff, you’re on the schedule to process tomorrow.  We just got the word that you’re good to go.”  I just happened to be on a call when the text came through – and no, I don’t make it a normal habit to read text messages while on phone calls, but I was a bit jittery, plus the caller at the time was looking for his bill to give me his account number.

As soon as I read the text I had to suppress a “Whoopee!”  However, what started out as an average, good-natured call on my part suddenly turned into an enthusiastic and exciting experience for my customer.

When break time rolled around shortly thereafter, I made contact with my recruiter and details were ironed out for that evening and the next day: I’d crash at the hotel again and drive over to the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) the next morning and since I wouldn’t need to do anything else but process, I’d probably be done by noon.  And by process, of course I don’t mean “dealing with issues”, but rather being processed into the military.

Tuesday morning my roommate and I woke up at 4, went down for breakfast at 5, then I followed the bus to the MEPS at 5:30 and I was ready to rock and roll by 6.  All I needed to do was wait to clear up a couple issues with the security clearance folks (pay your parking tickets on time), then wait to meet with the job classifier.  I was ready to rock at 6AM.  By nine, my enthusiasm had wavered just a bit – but I was able to watch some fascinating programming on tanks, submarines and jet fighters on the Military channel in the lobby.

About 9:45 I was called back and got the security clearance issue cleared up (pay your parking tickets immediately!  It will come back to haunt you!), and was told that if the job classifier didn’t call me back by 10:30 to go get some food in the cafeteria.

10:30 rolled around – I was hungry.  I went and got some food in the cafeteria.  Now, heh, they say it’s free.  They say that staying at the hotel the night before, the breakfast and then lunch is all free.  I appreciate the idea, I do, and I like not having to fork out five or six bucks at a time or whatever it cost to stay at the hotel.  However, I pay my taxes every year.  If you want a return on that investment, join the military. ;)

But I digress…

By 11 I was back in the lobby waiting to hear from the job classifier – well, one of two classifiers.  What would happen would be I’d go back and talk with her about the available jobs and see which ones would be the best fit based on my personality inventory, job history and ASVAB score.  It was about 1:15 when I was called.

There were no options.  Well, I should say we didn’t discuss any options because the job I was hoping to get was available.  I’m going to be a journalist for the Navy.  I actually get to use my original degree in Communication (media production and such) for a career!

By 2PM I was sworn in as a sailor for the United States Navy.  I ship out for nine weeks of basic training in November followed by six months of training in my specialty.  And that’s that!  God’s been working every step of the way.  I was not expecting things to happen so quickly.  But I see the delay from last week as a chance to take care of those parking tickets (pay ‘em!) and get everything squared away before the whole process would engage.  When it’s time to move on God’s schedule, things get crackin’!

So what does that mean for the blog?  For the time being, nothing.  I’ll continue along the normal schedule.  I have ideas for stories and things to share which I’ll have posted in my absence during basic.  Of course, at that time I won’t be able to respond, but I’ll see about having someone moderate comments and such on my behalf.  Plus, a couple of folks have said they’d still be interested in writing guest posts so you’ll get to enjoy the likes of Danny from Connective Tissue, Sharon from She Worships, and more (definitely some more Grady Nutt – his talks are just a gold mine of good stories!).

And I reckon that’s all I have to say about that.  Happy Wednesday!

Ready?

Finally – it was time for the physical.  …and I was not ready.

Y’see, with all the apparent “false starts”, when even a glimmer of hope would appear for resolution to one of the roadblocks, I didn’t want to get my hopes up for fear they’d just be disappointed again.  So in the weeks leading up to the green light, I had quit running, I had quit trying to eat as healthy as I had been; I had just stopped trying.  But clearly, God had not given up.

When I did get the green light, I weighed myself and realized I would not meet the standards for my height and weight.  I was either going to have to grow a few inches or I was going to have to bust my butt for a week to try and drop about ten pounds – and I am fresh out of accelerated growth hormones.  Now, I’ve dropped weight like this before – about ten years ago. 

Over the course of four years in college I gained 60 pounds more than what I had weighed my senior year of high school.  About a year or so after graduation I was introduced to Dance Dance Revolution; it was love at first step.  So, I bought DDR Maxx and then DDR Maxx 2 for the PlayStation 2 and for about three months just busted it.  I was also more mindful of what I ate and in three months’ time was about five pounds away from my high school weight.  However, I didn’t keep it off.

That’s another thing – I find it difficult to change my lifestyle sometimes.  Anyone else have this problem?  Like with the weight – or with money.  You get yourself into a pinch, you work it out with some blood, sweat and tears, then after a few months you’re back in the same old patterns.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Can I get a witness or is it just me?

Anyway, in times since, whenever I’ve needed to drop some poundage I’d just cut out sweets, dance it up, and about a week later I’d be ten pounds lighter. 

So then this prospect of joining the Navy came up.  I got the green light for the physical.  Hoo boy, my metabolism ain’t what it used to be.  And my body is not 21 anymore.  When I first started jogging back in March, I had epic shin splints – after only about five minutes of jogging – not even half a mile.  When I knew I’d be going in for the physical, I started running again; two, sometimes three times a day; about 1.6 miles a shot according to Google Maps.  I cut out all junk food and drink.  Did the Slim-Fast thing for a few days.  I mean, I ate; I didn’t starve myself, just drastically reduced portions and only healthy food.

I started this process on a Wednesday and by Saturday I was down five pounds.  Woohoo!  Five more to go in just a few days!  Well – I believe I hit what you’d call a plateau.  And by Saturday, I was tired.  So I didn’t really do much Saturday or Sunday.  On Monday, I was weighed at the recruiting station – four pounds over.  ARGH!  Well, I still had that evening to bust it out.

Now, a curious thing: before you go off to have your physical or be shipped out with the military, they have you stay at a hotel the night before.  So a bunch of us were sequestered at the Crowne Plaza in Columbus.  They had a workout room there with ellipticals, treadmills and the like, but on my way over, I had a brainwave.  I stopped by a grocery store and picked up some Ex-Lax.  I mean, seriously, why not?  There is a difference between weights pre- and post-toileting.

Thing is, those little chocolate, Ex-Lax…tablets?  Whatever – they’re small.  They’re infinitesimal.  They’re tiny.  The box says take two daily.  I’m thinking, really?  So, I took four.

That night I went for a jog around the hotel’s vicinity; spent some time on a treadmill; and then had an unpleasant experience around 1AM – and we had to wake up at 4.  Post-unpleasant experience I was more or less fine; but there was a lingering pit in my stomach that I knew didn’t come from nerves – I know what that kind of pit feels like.  Thankfully, by 6 it had disappeared.

So, then…!  The time came for weighing in; I stood nervously on the scale – had it all paid off?  I glanced at the scale reading and my heart leapt to my throat.  The gentleman in charge scribbled something on my chart, handed it back to me and said, “Just be sure to stay in shape.”  I was walking about a foot off the ground the rest of the day.

Now, that’s great.  It was quite an experience, but it made me think: what if I had been jogging regularly and eating healthily all along?  Even though I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, I had enlistment as my goal.  Instead, I frequently lost faith and dropped the ball, picking it up barely in time.  There were moments, especially in looking back now, where I sensed this is what God wants for me, this is His plan; but I was not acting in faith, I was not planning ahead and acting accordingly.

It made me think of the parable of the ten virgins.  It also made me think of every other Scripture verse I’ve read where we’re told to keep watch, or be ready for Jesus’ return.  I mean, y’know, that’s really going to happen.  Yeah, it’s been so long and there have been several “false starts” that it’s easy to get discouraged, but it really and truly is going to happen.  I reckon the question we all oughta ask ourselves is: do I only believe when His return feels imminent or do I believe all the time?  Am I a fan only when my team is doing well or do I root for ‘em even if they’re having an awful season?

Will I be preparing myself even when it feels pointless or will I try to cram a lifetime of faithfulness into ten minutes?

Anchors Await

Sometimes it seems as though my life can be characterized by the lyrics to Fugazi’s “The Waiting Room:”

I am a patient boy
I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait
My time is like water down a drain
Everybody's moving,
Everybody's moving,
Everybody's moving, moving, moving, moving
Please don't leave me to remain
In the waiting room

In a cultural context and personal mindset attuned to instant gratification, waiting can be torturous.  I had to wait four years to get a college degree; two years to get my teaching certificate; three years to learn to deal with emotional baggage; two years to date a girl; thirty-one years for my life to begin, and so on and so forth.

The job I mentioned in Monday’s post is part of a process as well (and I’ve discovered it’s actually been closer to three months rather than five months (my b)).

It was late April/early May when I approached a recruiter about joining the Navy.  I thought it’d be as easy as walking into the office, saying I want to enlist and then in few weeks’ time I’d be shipping off to basic.  Well, that was early May, now we’re in late August.

First thing I did after the initial paperwork was take the ASVAB – that’s a test you take to get a general idea of what ratings (jobs) you’d be suited and eligible for in the Navy.  My score lets me choose basically whatever I want so long as there isn’t an age limit (such as a nuclear tech for which the age cutoff is 25, or the SEALS in which I would surely die just in their warm-ups).  So that was encouraging; but I wouldn’t be meeting with the job classifier for some time.  There were some items in my medical history that needed addressing first – and herein is where I really have seen God work.

Since I was in counseling for 3 years, the Navy wanted to be sure I was mentally and emotionally “there” and, sure, I can say that, but any reasonable employer would want confirmation from the counselor in question.  So I needed to get a letter from my counselor explaining all that, and she complied – easy enough.  But then…

Ten years ago I had a kidney stone.  It was the worst physical pain I have ever (and hope to have ever) endured, but I passed it and haven’t had any problems since (drink lots of water everyday, kids!).  However, of course, Recruiting Command wanted documentation confirming that.

So, I contacted the hospital of the emergency room where I was treated and requested the records.  It took about a week, but all the records were found and faxed to my recruiter who then sent them to Recruiting Command.  Smooth sailing now, right?  WRONG. 

A little over a week later a letter came back essentially saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.  We might reconsider if you get a letter from your physician showing you were released from care and a test showing your kidneys are clean.”  At first I was a bit discouraged, but I did not succumb thanks to some encouraging words from my dad and Mrs. Incredible.  This part I talked about in Monday’s post: “I would need…a procedure I’d think would cost thousands of dollars….”  Which, of course, wound up only costing $30 (Thanks, Dad).  So, then, I needed the records from my follow up doctor.

I was able to track down and contact the practice I went to for my follow up, but since it was ten years ago they’d need a couple of days to dig up the records.  A couple of days later the records were exhumed from the off-site archives and faxed to my recruiter and sent to Recruiting Command.  Smooth sailing now, right?  WRONG.

A message came back essentially saying that though these were records of release, there was no explicit “release of care” instructions in there.  So again, a little discouraged, a little resentful – I was thinking, this was over ten years ago!  What’s the deal??  Well, it’s easy to just write it off as bureaucratic red tape, but I don’t think that’d be accurate.  If I were out to sea and had a vital job to do, the Navy would prefer that I be unable to perform a vital function because I was injured by gunfire rather than a medical condition they could have saved money on by not hiring me in the first place; if it’s a foreseeable liability, practically speaking, particularly in our current economic environment, who would hire such a person?

So, then I got over myself, again, with words of encouragement from friends and family, and I tracked down the specific doctor…who had retired a few years ago.  New discouragement: here was the possibility this really might not work out.  But then, Mrs. Incredible just so happened to be seeing her doctor the day I learned this and he just so happened to mention that he was a medical officer in the Navy.  She jumped on that like ants on honey and explained my situation to him.  He said to talk to another doctor in the practice I went to, a chap who was there ten years ago with access to the records, and see if he’d be willing to write the necessary letter.

It took a couple of phone calls, trying to explain the situation, but he’s clearly a decent bloke, helping a fellow out and whatnot, and he wrote the letter on my behalf.  It was faxed to my recruiter who sent it off to Recruiting Command and…yesterday I had my physical for the Navy.  Now that’s a story for another day, suffice to say that I passed.

There was some doubt – and again, that’s a story for another day – but I saw God work in the littlest, yet most significant of ways and I passed; all clear.  The gentleman who interviewed me for my security clearance said I’m “more than qualified.”

So, smooth sailing, right?  …wrong.

There are currently no jobs available.  However – at the first of each month a report is put out indicating what, if any, jobs are.  Plus, the new fiscal year starts in October.  So, I could know next week, next month, possibly even next year.  The point is: God’s in charge of all this.  If I had gone charging off a couple of months ago, I would not have been ready.  Why I’m all clear but still not able to go in?  I don’t know.  “But I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.”  Right now, I wait.

But I don't sit idly by
Ahhh...
I'm planning a big surprise
I'm gonna fight for what I want to be
I won't make the same mistakes
Because I know
Because I know how much time that wastes
And Function
Function is the key
To the the waiting room

Lyrics reprinted without permission; copyright 1989 Dischord; written by Ian MacKaye

Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing

There are Cokeheads and Pepsi addicts.

No wait – there are people who like Coca-Cola and people who like Pepsi.  I am a Coke guy.

I have fond memories, as a younger lad (ah, late 80s), of Friday nights at The Incredibles' house.  My parents would go out to dinner or something with Mr. and Mrs. Incredible and my sister and I would stay at their home with their children.  We’d feast on cheese pizza from Pizza Hut and throwback a couple two-liters of that marvelously fizzy and sweet Coca-Cola.  Thankfully, this happened after New Coke was on its way out of society’s door.

I didn't like New Coke and I’m convinced I still wouldn’t.  It's like Diet Coke but worse.  Drinking New Coke, you know you’re getting something different than the “normal” Coke, and usually newer versions of things are better, right?  Instead, the experience is more like being told you're going to get Double Dragon II for Christmas and you assume it’s going to be for the NES but instead it’s the lame Tiger version (yes, something like this happened to me a couple of times).

Thing is, as Christians, we tend to do this with the Bible.  We’ll read books, we’ll listen to sermons, we’ll read commentaries, go to conferences, go to church, but rather than directly indulging in the sweet effervescence of the Bible, we gulp down this “New Coke” of everything else related to the Bible instead of reading the Book itself.  I did this for the last 6 years of my life.

From 2005 to earlier this year I esteemed myself for studying under such venerated authors of Christian lore and doctrine as C.S. Lewis, Thomas Merton, Brennan Manning, A.W. Tozer, Oswald Chambers (especially), and John Piper among others.  I felt like I needed the guidance of these “Super-Christians” because there was no way I could understand it on my own. 

The Bible is full of “God” stuff, right?  “Holy, holy, holy,” “Verily, thou shalt be smitten for missing the esoteric point,” “Sanctifidispencovenantalization” – you’ve got to get all that crap or you’ll screw it up and think you’re saved but really won’t be or you’ll somehow do the Christian thing wrong.

But you know what I’ve discovered?  It’s really not that complicated.  Plus, we already have everything we need to understand.  It’s the reading, knowing, then doing that is difficult.

Now, granted, the Bible is a big book – it’s one comprised of 66 books!  It can be a little intimidating.  But just start off in one of the Gospels – I recommend John – and as those little footnotes and cross-references pop up, look ‘em up and later read more from those sources. 

And sure, listen to sermons, go to church and to conferences, be in community with other believers and read books.  But do your own daily Bible reading.  For one thing, it’ll make church a lot less boring.  For another thing, there are some really great stories in there.  And they’re true – they’re all real – that makes life a lot less boring. 

Just start off with maybe 15 minutes a day.  If you’re so inspired to take notes, fine; if not, fine.  There is no verse that says, “Thou shalt take notes” though it does help you get a little more out of it the more involved you are in the reading.  But just start it off simply.

Read it as it is – a book.  And realize, this is where the fantastical, the supernatural, the mysteriously spiritual reveals itself through the words of normal people, like you and me, for normal people, like you and me.

Give it a whirl and see what happens.

Nothing to Lose

If there’s one thing you’ll learn about me if we ever get to hang out is that I like making people laugh.  As far as I can remember, I’ve always been a ham and standing in front of crowds neither frightens nor bothers me.  And if I ever learned a new way to make people laugh, I’d become the best whatever it is to get the best kind of laugh out of people.  When I was five years old I taught myself how to burp on command.  For the following 10-15 years I was the burping king.  Now, well, if I’m not careful I’ll hurt myself.  Yep – I’m not as young as I used to be.  Yet, while my powers of intentional gastric manipulation have diminished, my affinity for the stage has not…clearly.

In high school I joined a drama group based out of Fuquay-Varina, NC.  It was called Christian Youth Theater (CYT).  Now, that name alone can tell you all kinds of things, but I’ll just let you know it was a lot of fun.  What they’d do is take stories and fairytales and give them a “spiritual twist.”  The year I joined, Beauty and the Beast was the production we’d be performing.

It was my sophomore year of high school.  Puberty and a couple years of marching band under my belt had been good to me.  I was 15 and had never yet had a girlfriend.  Joining CYT I learned that any artsy and/or religious activity will probably have a majority of female participants.  This was a fantastic combination.  Of course, this was not the reason I joined – I joined because I wanted to act; it just happened to be amongst several Christian-themed babes.

And then there was the play.  I had never been in any kind of production larger than a church play or choir performance with speaking lines (see: cantata).  At CYT we were going to have costumes, a set, and a program with our bios in it (!) – this was a big deal!  So when it came time to audition for the parts I would have just been happy to be the spiritual equivalent of Cogsworth or Lumiere; maybe Gaston because then I could be obnoxious with abandon (only onstage and in rehearsal, of course (of course)). 

So, I don’t remember what monologue I chose.  Around that time probably something from Star Wars…maybe something I had picked up from Shakespeare, but for my song, I chose to do an a cappella rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the style of the Temptations/California Raisins.  It’s a song I know very well, and it’s a style I love.  Again, I didn’t care what role I would get – I just wanted to be onstage and do whatever part I could.

I was cast as the Beast.  I was stunned.  It was great, it was fun; I got to carry on and roar and be mean and growl at people – in one performance I made a couple of little kids cry in fear – it was great!  I mean, in the end they were fine because the Beast turns into a man and is nice again, but still!

Anyway, the point is, I went into the audition with nothing to lose.  I knew I’d get a part (everyone is guaranteed at least that), and that’s all I wanted.  I was not invested in any role – I wasn’t going for anything in particular.  If I was cast in a supporting role or an extra for the village scenes, that would have been fine!  I just wanted to be in something where I could be onstage, sing, dance, do my thing. 

And that’s something that’s stuck with me from then until now.  When I’m not trying for anything, when I just show up to do whatever part I can, then I get everything.  When I forget myself and have a very narrow focus and must get a certain something, then that becomes my everything, and without fail I end up losing it.  Then I’ve lost my everything.  Quite frankly, that’s a rotten place to be.  The other place, where you have nothing to lose – that’s a great place to be.

FREEWRITE FRIDAY: Fantasy and Reality

Hello, my name is Cliff.  I live in…

Wait – we did this already…

Hi!  I’m a year older.  I think I’m just going to leave Fridays for freewrites – holy crap, I didn’t even mean to do that – FREEWRITE FRIDAYS!!  Heck, yes.

But “freewrite” does not necessarily mean “stream of consciousness” – though perhaps in this case we’ll just let “freewrite” stand for that.  In Cliff’s Blog World, “freewrite” = “stream of consciousness” (also in CBW, “freewrite” exists as a real term, impervious to MS Word’s red squigglies of admonition).

K - Enough self-indulgent exposition.

Never in my life did I comprehend what “31” would be like.  Imagination meets reality.  It’s everything I imagined “being grown-up” would be like but so much more because it’s actually real.  Have you ever imagined something being a certain way and then it happens, and it’s like, “Oh, that’s it?”  Because on one hand you built up a lot of fantasy in your mind but then it happens and it’s like, “That’s…normal.”  But then later you realize, “That’s actually quite extraordinary” and the extra-ordinariness comes from the fact that it’s so freakin’ normal!  It’s real.  Whatever the something is, no matter how much you imagine about it, you can’t take away from the realness and reality of it.

Your first kiss.  Your first movie.  Your first date.  Your first completed book (reading or writing).  Your first “A” in college.

Conversely, if you do get a high from the whatever you’ve built up, that high will quickly diminish.  If you’re like a lot of people, including yours truly, you start itching for another high.  So then you start looking for another one, another first or something; ultimately it’s another fantasy, a chasing of the end of the rainbow; keeping your eyes peeled for the next flash in the pan.  That’s all it really is if you seek nothing but the thrill of the chase.  What do you end up catching?  Not what you hoped for ‘cuz it doesn’t meet your expectations.

Reality is not fleeting.  Fantasy is.  Fantasy is fun and can help you get through the day, but reality is the day.  However, if there was no reality there’d be no fantasy.  Fantasy’s a part of reality just like the appendix is part of the body.  Every part of the body has its time to shine, but you don’t focus on one bit for too long or something’s going to go wrong (unless it already has and that’s why you’re in surgery).

I think that’s what this last trip around the sun has been about – living in the world of reality while letting fantasy play its part.  When you live in the world strictly as you perceive it and not deferring to the reality of it, you run the risk of a huge disappointment. 

Imagine, if you will, during the course of a month, people start telling you that you’re living in a dream world; they encourage you to abandon ship and wake up.  You think they’re crazy; you think everything’s fine.  Perhaps there are some “choppy waters” you’re facing, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.  And then one day, you realize everyone else is right.  Like Neo coming out of the Matrix; like waking up and seeing what you once thought were palaces and spires were actually piles of rubble and dead, rotting trees.  Imagine everything you ever hoped for and dreamed of turning on you and leaving you and going off to fulfill someone else’s dream – because that’s what happens when you let fantasy become your reality. 

Fantasy is fleeting.  Reality is not.  Yet, they are vital parts of each other, all wrapped up in a wondrous concept, barely comprehensible: FAITH – where the rubber hits the road, where fantasy meets reality.  Of course, it depends on what you put your faith in that will determine your destiny.  And yes, I do believe our destinies are determined outside of ourselves, yet, from a certain point of view we are responsible for choosing our destinies.  Paradox – always fun when it’s not teeth-grindingly frustrating beyond compare.  But then you just relax and realize, “It is what it is.  I believe it because I recognize it as true.  My believing doesn’t make it true, and so I defer to it, not it to me.”

We all believe in something.  Even if we are nihilists we still believe in the concept of nothing which is something.  There’s no escaping it – it’s just how we are.  So if I may try to impart some wisdom on my birthday, believe in something.  Embrace it and test it.  Test it to make sure it’s true.  And believe – believe with all your heart.  Let it wreck your life and if what you believe is true, it will rebuild your life.  How can you plant a crop if the soil isn’t first broken?  How can you build a house if the stone and wood aren’t cut from the earth?  How can you make an omelet without cracking some eggs?

Get crackin’.