Tag: life

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The Satan Debate on Nightline.

I just got done watching the less-edited version of the Nightline debate entitled “Does Satan Exist” (that link appears to be one that will someday no longer point to the specific debate, but just to all of the debates.).  I wanted to give my reactions to a few points.

First off, it was very well-produced, and I thought that the editing didn’t favor one side over the other.  Perhaps that’s because I watched the nearly unedited version online.  Who knows what actually made it to the TV.

There was one point in the debate that really piqued my interest.  They allowed audience members to ask questions, and a girl asked Deepak Chopra what made his experience more valid or more true than the other panelists’ experience.  He immediately retorted that his experience wasn’t more true, but that he could only speak from his point of view.  Then he went on to make the point that her experience was not as in-line with “what we know about science and microbiology…” (not a direct quote, I didn’t go back and check the wording…).

Out of one side of his mouth he would say that her experience is perfectly valid, and then he would immediately turn around and basically call her primitive and uneducated.  Yet he doesn’t see the incongruence there. He spins very pretty word-webs and things that sound pithy and neat but have no real meaning.  “All belief is just a cover-up for insecurity.  Once you know something you no longer have to believe it.  You just experience it.”  …what?

Which brings me to my favorite interchange in the debate (which I really hope made it to the final cut that aired on ABC).  Also between an audience member and Chopra, it went something like this:

Man in Audience: Earlier you said that all belief is just a cover-up for insecurity.  Do you believe that?

Deepak Chopra: Yes.

Man in Audience:  Thanks. (turns to go sit down)

Brilliant.

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An addendum I wish were added to every support letter I send out.

A couple of days ago I posted a link to a letter we are sending out asking people for money for our upcoming trip across the country to minister in Santa Cruz, California.  One of my fears is that the process of raising support will be misunderstood to be solely a plea for money, or that we will be seen as insensitive.

I’m an American.  By virtue of that, I have deeply ingrained thought processes and assumptions about the nature of reality and humanity that, frankly, aren’t true.  One of the biggest of these assumptions is that independence is a virtue.  Of all of the movements in American pop culture over the past century, name one that has been a movement toward interdependence or selflessness.  Having trouble?  Perhaps only the civil rights movement and some of the hippie communes of the late 60s and early 70s were movements toward interdependence.  And even that dependence was self-serving.  Like Frank Sinatra famously sang, the key to being American is saying “I did it my way.”

So, take that assumption, and add it to the equation of raising financial support for a living.  I am, for all intents and purposes, a professional depender.  I depend on regular financial giving from people who share my passion for seeing the Christ-ian message of grace and forgiveness spread to the corners of the globe from the college campus.  Let me restate that.  I am the hands, feet, and tongue of Christ on the campus.  People that give the money are the heartbeat and life-blood of Christ on campus.  Without the heartbeat, I am shipwrecked, and without the hands and feet, my supporters are impotent.  We need each other.

I forget that fact far too often in my ministry on campus.  I try to disconnect the ministry going on from the people who are really making it happen.  What that looks like is sending out letters asking for support and then forgetting to let people in on what God is doing through them on campus.  Sometimes when I do personally engage supporters it is self-serving.  I often don’t have a mindset of service and worship as I raise support, but instead I frequently have one eye fixed on what’s in it for me.  I start to feel entitled to other people’s money.  That’s embarrassing to put into words, but it’s true.

So as I send out the letters sitting on the other side of laptop waiting to be stuffed into envelopes, I send them out with the recognition that God is doing something in me just as much as he is doing something through me.  Your financial gifts are precious to me, especally during these times of economic uncertainty.  Your giving reassures me that you place more trust in the God of the universe than the future of the American economy.  What a testimony and encouragement.  It is truly an honor to be Christ’s ambassador on campus.  God is using your gift not only to reach lost college students, but to reach me.  He is changing my mindset toward the whole process of raising support, and helping me to really begin to believe that it is developing partners far more than it is raising dollars.  My prayer is that God would use your giving to reach YOU as well.

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Three Years Ago, Today…

Three years ago today I had no idea what I was getting into.

I laid on a chaise lounge trying to position myself in such a way as to not throroughly wrinkle my tuxedo.  I enjoyed listening to the music being played out on the porch, but was also wishing I was out there to hear the band that I had assembled.  People kept walking past to go to the restrooms and making that “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here or be talking to you” face when they passed me.  I enjoy awkward moments.

We got the cue that it was time to head out.  I had 5 million thoughts (roughly) in my head, and was surprised that most of them were completely unrelated to the event at hand.  I kept wondering about the feedback coming from Joe’s microphone to my left.  I was thinking about what the people politely smiling were thinking about what I was thinking about.  If they only knew. I smiled, because it felt like I needed to.

15 minutes, 2 rings, 2 vows, and a prayer later I jumped, clicked my heels, and walked down the brick walkway toward the first of our getaway cars.  We really only got away to the back of the house, as I remember.  I kept messing with a new ring on my left hand, wondering if I’d ever get used to wearing jewelry.

We had a relatively short reception (there was business to attend to, and the weather took a turn for the chilly), but enjoyed dancing, getting caked in the face, and a much nicer second getaway car.

When we got to the Hilton, we showed up at the same time as Job, one of my friends who was supposed to drop our stuff off at our room before we got there.  Poor timing meant that we all got to share another awkward moment as he wheeled our stuff into the honeymoon suite.  I enjoyed every second of watching the normally-unflappable Job squirm in discomfort.

Fast forward three years, and it feels like time has gone almost as fast.  Now we have a little boy, a great group of friends and co-workers in Asheville, and a slew of memories for which to be thankful.  God has done some great things.

If I had it to do all over again, knowing what I know now (just a sliver of what I was getting into), I’d still “I do.”

Happy anniversary, Babe.  I’d still pick you over every woman on the planet.

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Restless Stops

We pulled off at about 5:30 PM (after missing the exit on the first shot) at the Colorado Welcome Center.  I located and retrieved the camp stove and set about lighting it near a table in the shade we had selected.  Jacqueline, in the meantime, set up LB with a feeding station.  As I waited for the noodle water to boil, I grabbed my laptop.  Our camera’s memory card was getting full, and needed purging onto the hard drive.  I set up the laptop, external hard drive, and camera to play nicely together when across the lawn I see sprinkler heads begin to pop up, soaking nearby tables in a matter of seconds.

Panic is a good word for it.  With my entire electronic life sprawled out before me, I began hurriedly to pack the computer back into the bag and rushed it to the van.  Tragedy averted.  We even took what turned out to be too much precaution (the table we were at never reached the line of fire while we were there) and moved our cooking station over to the grassless area near the buildings.

The water had begun boiling, and noodles added.  In fact, things were all set for straining.  I picked up the handle of the pot, and immediately regretted it.  My thumb has a handle-shaped burn mark that hasn’t yet stopped throbbing.  Once the noodles were stained, the sauce warmed up, and the 7-Up uncorked, it was time to enjoy a budget-friendly meal.

Included in the meal is a memory worth far more than the money we saved.

On to Utah for a couple of days of hotels before we hit the GRAND CANYON!

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Isn’t it Grand?

After checking in at the ranger’s station, I quadruple-point turned the van into the spot deignated for campsite 38.

First order of business: go look at the Grand Canyon.  We put the boy in the stroller and wheeled it about 300 yards south to the edge of the canyon.

The trail from the pavement to the actual canyon was about 50 feet long, so I took Benjamin and popped him on my shoulders, his favorite place to ride.  He alternated between trying to rip my ears off the side of my head and playing drums with my head.  But he was happy.

As we got near the edge, I felt a sensation I have never once experienced.  I was still easily 15 feet from the edge, yet I heard my inner voice saying “that’s close enough, Benjamin.”  Then my inner 15 year old started an argument. “Are you kidding me? you can’t even see the bottom of the canyon from here!  At least take a few steps closer.”

It was probably wise that I stopped there.  The combination of my child on my shoulders and the loose gravel at my feet would have spelled a sour ending to the day. Plus, we have all day tomorrow to explore and get great pictures of the canyon.

We’re all safe and sound, so no worries about us.  There is wifi here, at the camp store, but no mobile phone signal.  If you need us, email us.  But I make no guarantee we’ll get that, either.

Jacqueline wanted me to note also that Benjamin is already asleep, and went down with almost no fight.  We have a great kid.  But don’t tell him… it’ll go to his head.

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