Second Annual Wonderfully Flawed Book Awards 2012 (fiction)

There is nothing in the world like a good story and I especially like stories that introduce me to unforgettable characters, some so vivid that it is hard to remember that they are not real.  (Or are they?  I mean, what is real anyway?)

I think I read more fiction than usual this year, probably because several of my favorite authors came out with new books and also because I enhanced my traveling by listening to audiobooks.  Here are a few of the standouts:

How to Be Good and A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby were real favorites this year--I was only disappointed that he doesn't have more books along this line.  My brother-in-law introduced me and Mowgli encouraged me and both of them were absolutely right--I loved both of these books for their insight and their humor.  In How to be Good, Katie Carr's marriage is deeply threatened when her husband decides to work harder at becoming a "good person," with the help of a strange guru he found on the street.  What does it mean to be a good person, anyway?  And how hard should we try to be one?

In A Long Way Down, several memorable characters meet at the top of a tall building, each planning for different reasons to jump off.  They form an awkward community of hope and keep you in suspense the whole time.  Because each of the suicidal characters is so well-drawn, it felt like I was listening in on the internal dialogue of people I actually know.  The suspense is pretty riveting, too.  Will they all be able to stay alive?

Because I loved Major Pettigrew and his neighbor Mrs. Ali, I loved this sweet story of their struggles with aging and friendship and racism and romance.  Not entirely unsubstantial, this is a hopeful book written with love for its characters and for the reader.

Runners-up for fiction:  Lots of great runners-up for storytelling, all books I enjoyed as I read them and have carried with me since.  Another book to deal with friendship and racism and romance is Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford, this time through the eyes of two young teenagers, one white and one Japanese in the early 40s in California.   Black Water Rising by Attica Locke is a murder mystery set in the city of Houston and populated with people and places I recognized.  I listened to it on CD and had to drive around aimlessly at the end just to see what happened.  The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker is the coming-of-age story of one California preteen when the rotation of the earth changes and catastrophe slowly descends on all its inhabitants.  It's not a perfect book but it's really interesting to think about how every change changes everything and to see how people's lives and relationships are affected.  And, for a dystopian story, it's remarkably  hopeful.  I don't usually love Anne Lamott's fiction as much as I enjoy her nonfiction but Imperfect Birds really captured me with its flawless depiction of the dynamics of an enmeshed, addicted family.  Elizabeth, Rosie and James seemed so real and acted so much like real people act--so unpredictably predictable--that I was sad when the book ended and there was no more window into their lives.

I was also disappointed with some of the fiction I read this year.  Each anticipated new book by Jodi Picoult, Jennifer Weiner and Emily Giffin was considerably less than I hoped for, either because of improbable characters (have you figured out that it's all about the characters for me?) or just my lack of interest in the worlds they created.

The Second Annual Wonderfully Flawed Book Awards for 2012 (nonfiction)

Well, once again, we need to take this list by categories, just because there are too many good books to narrow it down to just one list.  Let's start with Spiritual Nonfiction, because I read a lot of it and because some of the year's favorites are in that category.

This is the book I'm selecting as Book of the Year for 2012.  Truly, I wish every Christian I know (male and female)  would read it so we could all talk about it.   Using some of information from the bestseller Half the Sky, this book challenges us to transform the way we work together as men and women in the capital-C church to make a difference in a world where women and men together are deeply affected by our brokenness related to gender roles.  (Incidentally, I hadn't read it yet when I wrote this, but it addresses the same issues so much better than I could.)   At times stop-and-read-that-again profound and at times did-she-really-just-say-that challenging, this book casts a vision for a world in which both women and men (and especially women, under the circumstances) can find their value as children of God and can find new ways to express courage and love in their relationships with each other.  There are no gender politics here and no denominational battles, just the harsh reality of what our failure to support each other is costing us and the inspiring vision of what could be.

This was the year I really discovered N. T. Wright and this was my favorite of the books I've read of his so far.  This book gave me a really clear picture of what it means that God is reconciling the world to himself and restoring it to his original design, both in the afterlife and in the implications for the here-and-now.  Wright uses Scripture well to challenge some of our cherished beliefs about heaven, taking on both the cherubs-and-harps mythology and some of the eastern influences about a disembodied existence after death.  Best of all, he clearly connects all of it to God's mandate for Kingdom living now and reminds us that God loves this world and expects us to get to work loving it too--no pie-in-the-sky dogma here.

Runners-up for Spiritual Nonfiction:  My Own Worst Enemy by Janet Davis--Janet is my dear friend and does for Scripture what Monet did for water lilies; she helps you see the essence beyond the substance.  This is also a very practical book for women (and men) who struggle with self-sabotage and seeing themselves as people of worth and calling.  Also, Practicing the Way of Jesus:  Life Together in the Kingdom of Love by Mark Scandrette is an interesting and challenging story about what happens when people exchange the idea of  spiritual formation as religious theory and instead take it on as experimental practice.

Now let's look at General Nonfiction.  I said in the 2011 Book Awards that the book I was reading, Terrorists in Love, would be on the list for 2012 and it is.  Credible journalism together with riveting storytelling make this a fascinating read, forcing us to exchange the stereotypes and caricatures for stories of real people in all their humanity and pathos and brutality.

You knew I would have Brene Brown's newest book on the awards list, didn't you?  As always, she does a fabulous job of conveying the inherent vulnerability of being human and gives us a road map for responding with courage and vulnerability and resilience.  There's not much new here if you've read her other books and follow her TED talks and her blog, but it's all together in one place and is a book I'll read again.

Runner-up for General Nonfiction:  Marriage Rules by Harriet Lerner.  Not as profound as her other books but still immensely practical and readable, this is sort of a devotional book for couples.  Each chapter is a page or two long and reminds us to balance self and togetherness in our most intimate relationships.

Merry Christmas! (Is this cheating?)

Well, it seems pretty obvious that I'm not going to get any Christmas cards out before Christmas, seeing as how tonight is Christmas Eve.  I love getting your Christmas cards in the mail and your holiday greetings on Facebook and the more information about how things are going for you and yours, the better!   But our Christmas family photo (see below) isn't really worth making copies of and I'll be lucky if I even get the tree put away before Valentine's Day, so this is my best effort at wishing you a very merry Christmas and a very happy new year and even providing a little bit of an update for the Taylor family in 2012.

We started the year the same way we're ending it--with C and Boo going to Guatemala to love on about 65 orphans and their caregivers.  Both of them are at their very best when they are at the Fundacion Salvacion in Huehuetenango, Guatemala.  Here is a photo of Boo with one of "her kids:"

Speaking of Boo, she is a sophomore this year at the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor.  She loves school, loves her friends, loves her two churches, and loves life in general.  (If you know her, you are not surprised!)  She's an early childhood-elementary education major and hasn't wavered on that plan since she was three years old.  We're very proud of the young woman she's turning out to be.

Mowgli graduated from Guilford College last December and came home for the spring to work, work and work, saving money so that he could travel for 3 months in Tibet, Nepal, northeastern India and Kashmir.  His stories of hiking and climbing during that time are a little too harrowing for this mom (one involves tigers) but I'm truly in awe of his adventurous spirit and courage.  Here's Mowgli in the foreground of a photo taken during a climbing trip:

These days, he doesn't have much time for outdoor adventures.  He's living near Boston, MA and attending grad school at Harvard Divinity School, still studying Tibetan culture and religion, and playing on the school ultimate Frisbee team.

As I watched C lead our Christmas Eve service this evening, I was struck again by how good he is at pastoral ministry and how blessed we are to be serving here at MBC with really good people who love us as much as we love them.  He finds great fulfillment in serving at Austin Children's Shelter, keeping up with old friends and passionately following pretty much any sport that involves a ball.  

And me . . . well, I probably devote enough time on this blog to the details of my life.  As a quick summary, I still see clients in my private practice here in Austin, I stay involved with the Faithwalking ministry of Mission Houston, and I travel pretty regularly working with the Ridder Church Renewal process with Western Theological Seminary in Holland, MI.  Right now, I'm looking forward to two weeks off  before starting a busy season of travel and work.

So now you're caught up with us . . . if you haven't already, please let us know what's up with you!  We're blessed to know the most wonderful people--and you're one of them!  We send Christmas greetings and hope for blessings in the new year!

Learning

Today was a pretty perfect day.  Church, lunch, nap and then our annual family Christmas trip to Pappadeauxs.  (Thanks to CLBC for starting that tradition so many years ago with the Christmas gift card!)  Before we went to dinner, though, we stopped at the Blanton museum to see the current exhibit on Tibetan art, including paintings on silk called thankga (pronounced "tank-ah") like the one below.  

I learned a few things.

One, I learned that it is hard to see Eastern art through western eyes.  Mowgli did a great job explaining things (including telling us at every turn that what we were seeing wasn't really all that impressive compared to what is in the monasteries of Tibet) but it was still difficult to know both what we were seeing and how to see it.   The thangka are so complex and layered that it is hard to know where to rest my eyes.  Because the images are so foreign (to me), it's even harder to know how to understand what I see or to know what it means.

My favorite exchange was when I asked a question about one ancient piece and Mowgli said, "Well, that isn't really a relevant question."  I countered, "But it's what I want to know." He thought a minute and said, "Well, I can try to answer it, but if you want a good answer, you need to ask a better question."  He helped me craft a different question and then gave me a terrific answer that satisfied us both.  I will ponder on that idea for a long time though:  if I want a better answer, I need to ask a better question.

Two, I learned about how deep is the human need to create.  The Tibetans who painted these works of art spent years on them, in part because they used brushes made of just a few cat hairs.  They believed that the use of the cat hairs and the silk brought bad karma and so they accepted that the act of painting these thangka would cost them a hundred years of a  hellish incarnation but they did it anyway, in part because they believed that it would help other people and in part, I assume, because they felt compelled to create something of deep meaning and beauty.

We also saw a mandala, or sand painting, being created by a Tibetan monk.  It may take years to finish one of these mandala but once it is finished, it is enjoyed for a week or two and then rubbed out, destroyed.  It's hard for me with my attachment to self and ego to imagine such a thing--I would grieve deeply if I lost something I had devoted my life to making with my own hands.  These artists, however, value the act of creating and not the thing itself; it seems to me that there's something to be learned from that.

How adults can help kids

I went on a radio program this morning to talk about how we can help the kids on our lives through difficult times.  Here's what I said and what I wish I had had time to say.

We can stay calm.  Children need to know that the grownups in their lives are okay.  Even if they see us cry or hear some of our sadness and anger, they need to know that we are not undone, that we are still in charge, that we have a plan and that we can help.  That means that we don't run at the mouth about all our confusion and helplessness in front of the kids.  It means that we squeeze them a little tighter when we hug them but that we don't cling.  It means that we don't make them responsible for making us feel better.

We can reassure them that they are safe.  The school shooting in CT didn't happen to them.  It feels like it happened to all of us but it didn't.  The chances are very good that they are safe.  Their school is safe.  Children see the media reports and think that if something happened somewhere, it will happen anywhere.  They have very little sense of probability so they don't realize that school shootings are extraordinarily rare and that the probability that they will ever experience one is almost zero.  Millions of children went to school yesterday and came home.  Even most of the children in the Sandy Hook Elementary School came home.

We can start a dialogue, not a lecture.  It's important for us to talk with our children rather than, in our anxiety, talking at them.  We can start by asking what they know.  That will help us gauge their level of interest and engagement.  We can correct their misconceptions--especially scary ones--and give more information.  Then we can ask them how they feel and then we can let them feel what they feel.  They may say, "I don't know."  Giving children words for feelings is one of the most important things that adults can do for children.  They may have their own words.  If they don't, we can say that a lot of people are feeling really sad or mad or scared.

We can ask them what they want to know.  When I picked Boo up at school on 9/11, I asked her what she wanted to know about the day's events.  She answered, "Is the Statue of Liberty still there?"  She wanted the reassurance that the prominent symbol of our nation (in her mind) was intact.  I never would have known that if I hadn't asked.  Later, as she was watching some of the news footage for the first time, I asked her again.  She answered, "Are all those people okay?"  I answered that most of the people in the buildings got out safely but that some died.  She visibly relaxed and had only a few questions after that.

We can be careful not to blame God.  When we say things like, "God wanted those children to come live in heaven with him,"  or "God needed them to be angels," we are not only teaching bad theology but also scaring our children.  We adults don't know how to make sense of tragedy; we don't know why this happened.  How on earth can we try to give answers to children?  If they ask why, we can tell the truth: A man went into the school with a gun and shot some people.  That's why.  We can reassure them that God loves all the people in Newtown and that he is helping them.

With older children and teenagers, we can talk about what it means that we live in a profoundly broken world where bad things happen on a pretty regular basis.  We can talk about what it means that God loves this world, even in its brokenness, and is even now working to redeem and restore it and that he calls us to be part of that work.  We can share our own feelings of vulnerability as well as our own commitment to live lives of courage, hope and love in the midst of the darkness.  This is exactly what older children and teens want to hear.

We can look honestly at the violence in our own homes.  The screaming and threatening and hatefulness and hitting that happens in good homes all over this country is far more traumatizing to children than a tragedy they hear about on the news.  If you are an adult, do what it takes to make it stop.

And then there's love.  Nothing we do is more important.  Children who know they are loved and are secure in their place in the hearts of the adults around them are far less vulnerable to the effects of trauma and are far less likely to act out violently themselves.  Of course, we love our children but we can work harder to make sure they know it.  We can indulge them less and guide them more.  We can make sure they see us showing love to those who are different and difficult so that they always know that there will be love for them when they are different or difficult.

Faith, hope and love--these three.  And the greatest of these is love.

What we can do

Everyone with a blog will be weighing in on today's school shooting and I guess I'm no exception.  Hands down, the best thing I've read so far is this blog by my friend JTH who was the first one to tell me about the shooting.   He addresses the profound theological and cultural implications of this--questions all of us are asking.   He has all the right questions and some meaningful answers.

There is another question that we are all asking, too:  "What can we do?"  "Nothing," we think, feeling mired in helplessness.  Or, maybe, "Nothing but pray."  After all, few of us know anyone directly involved or have any way of tangibly supporting them.  I want to suggest that there actually are a few things we can do.

To begin with, we can do as Brene Brown suggests and remain calm and openhearted.  That means that we can avoid stereotyping and "othering."  No matter what color or age or religion or sexual orientation the shooter turns out to be or what kind of family background he turns out to have or what kind of psychiatric problems he turns out to suffer from, we can refrain from nodding and saying (or thinking), "Yes, that's how those people are."

We can refuse to blame, especially before we even know what has happened.  So far,  I've seen one Facebook post that places the blame squarely on President Obama and one that blames the cessation of state-sponsored prayer in schools.  That especially means that we reject any and all conspiracy theories, like the one that's going around that all the recent mass shootings are the work of the anti-gun lobby.  We can just stop it.

We can hug our children and tell them we love them and breathe sighs of relief that they are still here in spite of our painful vulnerability.  But we can do that without panicky clinginess that only scares them and us.   Yes, we feel so vulnerable and exposed in a world where random violence is so fearfully random.  But we can choose not to walk in fear or we can choose hope when the fear closes in.

We can rigorously examine our own attachment to violence.  Surely we can agree that one of the symptoms of our anxious society is the pervasive gun culture--cowboy gun culture, gangsta gun culture, paramilitary gun culture, video game gun culture.  Don't get me wrong:  the polarized voices are equally anxious.  The ones shouting that we need to get rid of all the guns are just as anxious as the ones shouting that we need a gun in every classroom.  At some point, though, we need to have a national conversation about our addiction to violence and it will be more effective if we'll start with ourselves.  Boo has babysat for suburban, middle-class boys under 9 years old who play violent shooter games like Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty all summer long.  Talk radio and TV often descends into verbal violence and no one protests unless it's coming from the "enemy."  Much of the fare on TV feeds our fascination with crime-as-entertainment and it's getting more graphic every season.  For many of us who drive in city traffic, road rage is our secret sin.  Let's just be honest about our own participation in this very violent culture and maybe make a resolution to step away from it in some significant way.

We can support any and all efforts to provide mental health care to those who need it.  Not every person who commits mass murder is mentally ill but most are.  The vast majority of persons who are mentally ill never resort to violence but some do.  Mental health care is expensive and my state, in particular, has made it clear that it is not willing to pay that price.  But the paranoid and delusional are rarely able to hold the kinds of jobs that provide health insurance or to navigate the bare-bones delivery system as it currently exists.  Their families have often bankrupted themselves trying to get help for their loved one and have often come up empty.  When we think about the things we want to do together as a society, surely we can provide better for those among us who have lost control of their minds.

We can recommit to empathy and kindness.  The people who study these things tell us that, as a culture,  we are 40 percent less empathic than we were when I graduated from high school.  That means that we have lost almost half of our ability just to put ourselves in the place of another person.  That scares me more than anything and I see evidence of it every time I get online and every time I counsel couples in my office.  That means that those of us who understand and value empathy have to work extra hard to infuse it into our conversations, into our relationships, into our parenting.  Let's recommit to that and to basic kindness.  Will that stop mass murder?  Maybe once or twice, but probably not.  But it makes our world a saner place to live in--a gentler place to live in--and that's part of the solution.

And, of course, we can pray.  My favorite prayer in times like this is "Lord, have mercy," followed by, "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done."  We can pray the words of the Advent hymn, "Bid envy, strife and quarrels cease; Fill the whole world with heaven's peace.  O Come, O Come Emmanuel."  Or there's this longer prayer from my newly ordained friend Matt's bishop:  "O Holy Spirit, the Comforter, visit the parents, siblings, guardians, friends and colleagues.  May they know in some new way your power to draw us into your healing, peace, justice, and compassion.  The darkness of our fallenness overwhelms us and burdens us with intolerable weight.  Give wisdom to lawmakers, emergency responders, pastors and counselors.  Enlighten and strengthen us for your service to one another."  Or as another pastor friend, Deborah, reminded me, we can pray the prayer of no words.

Last, we can refuse--adamantly--to succumb to hopelessness and helplessness.  As my brother-in-law put it, in a little different context, we can "stop all running in a crowded room, with our eyes closed, screaming that we are all alone in the dark."  Whatever you decide to do, that's a good place to start.

Lord, have mercy.

Have an Adventy Advent

Advent comes quietly every year, whether we're ready or not.  This year, with so many days between Thanksgiving and the advent of Advent, I was actually ready for it today, in all its quiet invitation.  Yesterday, as I was describing some of the complexities of life to a friend, she commented that I would have a very Adventy Advent this year.  I laughed and knew what she meant:  that Advent draws us into its questions and its waiting and its uncertainty and that some years that resonates more than others.

This year, I'm asking the Christ of Advent to guide me into taking some steps new steps toward simplicity and purpose and clarity and generosity.  Fortunately, I have some seasoned companions on the way.

First, there is Advent Conspiracy, that  annual call to exchange materialism for generosity.  (Did you know that for just a fraction of what Americans spend on Christmas in one year, we could provide clean water for the whole world?)  We watched it at church this morning, but if you haven't seen the Advent Conspiracy video, you can watch it and several other good videos on the AC website.

Also, there is the thoughtful lifestyle of my friend JTH, which he describes on his own blog here.  He has actually gone into training to resist the siren song of consumerism; I've decided to copy a couple of his practices myself.  I really love the idea of growing spiritually by actually taking on the spiritual practices and, well, practicing them.   (I've long thought I'm a Methodist at heart.)

There's Ruth Haley Barton, over at the Transforming Center, who has this to write about Advent this year and will add to it every week until Christmas.

Maybe you aren't part of a tradition that observes Advent.  No worries; me neither.  But the beauty of preparing for Christmas and the challenge of doing it subversively, below the chaos of the culture, in the quiet places that really matter . . . any of us can embrace that.

Doing the numbers

37:  percentage of nights spent away from home since mid-September (30 out of 80)

6:  number of nights C got to go with me

18:  number of "wheels up, wheels down" flights

7:  cities visited (not counting airport layovers)

5:  states visited

2:  countries visited (US and Canada)

4:  Faithwalking retreats

1:  road trip with much-loved friend that I rarely see

0:  trips to Kansas City (it turned out to be Wichita)

100:  percentage of my life that I really, really love

Quiet

When I was a little girl, I used to stare at my cat, wondering what he was thinking about,  lying still and calm, only mildly irritated by the curiosity of his small owner.  I couldn't even imagine then what I eventually concluded:  that he was mostly thinking about nothing.  I still can't.

On Saturday, as I looked out the car window as we were leaving Houston, C asked me, "Is your head noisy?"  I smiled at him, "Yeah . . . can you hear it?"  He laughed.  "Are you kidding me?  The people in the next car can hear it!"  I could absolutely imagine the teenaged boys in the car alongside us able to hear the cacophony of my thoughts as clearly as I could hear the bass line of their music.

My head stays pretty noisy, mostly thinking about what I need to do next or tomorrow or eventually.  It  cycles through recent conversations with people, undergoing the torment of second-guessing and self-recrimination, and sometimes it lands on fond thoughts about the people I love.  Occasionally, the inner dialogue is a creative one, full of new ideas or intriguing variations on old ideas.  I love it when that happens, but it's still hard to hush when it's time to rest or pray or focus.  I've mostly given up on the contemplative pursuits but it's never too late to try again.  I would love to be rid of "the monkeys in the banana trees," as Henri Nouwen called them.  In the meantime, if you can hear my noisy thoughts before you even see me coming, I won't be surprised.

A matter of perspective

Last week, I found myself on a little regional jet, traveling with our team to Albany, NY.  About 30 minutes after we left Detroit, the pilot announced that he didn't like the readings he was getting from  one of the engines and that we were turning around to land back in Detroit.  The already quiet plane got even quieter.

The woman on my left kept complaining about her son and daughter-in-law (whom she was going to visit) while the woman on my right was breathing deeply into her hands, obviously panicked.  I wasn't feeling so great myself, as my hands were shaking against my will and I was nauseated.  It helped to look across the aisle at one of our team members, who kept calmly eating his sandwich and reading his magazine.  The man behind me summoned the flight attendant, demanding to know how the airline was going to get us to our destination and when that would happen.  I heard her voice tighten as she said very firmly, "Sir.  We are making an emergency landing.  I. Don't. Know."

I just had to laugh at human nature in all its variety when we ended up back at the gate in Detroit.   Some of the passengers on the plane were frankly annoyed and aggravated at the change in plans.  Others were all but kissing the ground, glad to be safe.  When we reboarded the plane a couple of hours later, I found myself sitting by the same woman, still complaining bitterly about her relatives and now adding the delayed flight to her list of resentments.  I personally shared the opinion of the woman on the other side who expressed gratitude that we were safe and that the captain had put our safety over other practical considerations.

The whole experience reminded me of another trip on another regional jet back in the spring.  The little boy across the aisle from me had gone to the bathroom when the pilot announced that we were going to be running into some severe turbulence and he was asking the flight attendant to take up all the drinks and food and sit down.   Again, the plane got very quiet as people became tense.  When the little boy got back to his seat, he asked his father, "What's going on?"  His father said with some bravado, "Well, the pilot says it's going to get really bumpy."  The little boy raised both hands in the air and said,  "Yay!!"

I'm really grateful to my parents who both taught me consistently that while I can't control what happens to me, I can control how I look at it and can control at least some of my attitude about it.   They showed me how to look at things from different perspectives and to choose my response wisely.  Other than their unconditional love, that was the best gift they gave me as I was growing up. 

Others, like the counselor I saw at BU my freshman year and author Victor Frankl (whose writings powerfully influenced me in my early twenties), just confirmed this idea, that we have far more power than we imagine to frame our experiences and to choose our meaning.  And then something happens that just reminds me how true it is that life is just a matter of perspective.

Interesting people

One thing about traveling:  you meet some really interesting people.  Just from this last round of trips:

There was the young man who was tattooed all over in green fish scales.  His head was shaved and ever visible inch of skin was green and tattooed with tiny individual scales.  I didn't actually get to meet him (he was in first class) but I smiled at him and I would have given anything to hear his story.  It did occur to me to wonder whether it would have been rude to ask him if he had been my seatmate.  I mean, I know you should never comment on people's appearance, but you don't cover yourself in green fish scales if you're trying to stay obscure.  Thoughts?

Then there was the woman I chatted with while they fixed our plane at the gate in Houston.  She was very interested in  nutrition and she was a nurse and so I asked her what one thing a person should take on if they want to address their health.  She had some really interesting thoughts and she was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable that I was truly inspired.  She had me ready to make a couple of commitments that I had been pondering anyway . . . and then she kept talking.  She talked at length about how bad our Austin food (barbecue, tex-mex, etc.) is for us and then about not really caring much about the taste of food and then she got onto chemicals in our food and when I got out a piece of gum for landing, she chastised me for that.  By the time the plane landed, I was craving a cheeseburger infused with aspartame and a hormone-laden milkshake.  Immature, I know, but I wasn't feeling so inspired anymore.

My favorite conversation lately was with Israel, a young Hispanic man who doesn't fly often and vacillated between anxiety and wonder.  (He took lots of pictures out his window with his phone which I thought was really endearing.)   I think it helped his nervousness to talk (I get that) and so he told me about his parents sending him to Texas from Mexico alone when he was 14 so that he could go to high school.  He fended for himself, getting help from a church in McAllen.  The church provided spiritual support, friendship, adult supervision and food and money from time to time and he became a youth worker when he graduated.

He told me that, because he didn't have papers, he could only work on construction jobs and in restaurants but he worked hard, saved his money, and spent his spare time working with teenagers at his church where he met a beautiful girl who also worked with kids.  They fell in love (his face just glowed as he talked about her) and they got married.  Now they serve this church together and teach teenagers how to find their way in the world, to stay off drugs and stay away from gangs.  Israel told me he got a call that day from a young man who had grown up under his mentorship who needed advice about buying a car because he just sensed that the car salesman was lying to him because he was unsophisticated.  The salesman was lying and Israel walked the young man through the car purchase.

Israel's immigration status changed when he married and he used the money he had saved to buy a small Farmers insurance company.  He told me he had always wanted to be "a professional" and hoped to go to college now.  He and his wife have two beautiful baby girls and give all their free time to their church teenagers, so he doesn't know if that will happen or not.  I told him I thought he already was a professional, as a businessman, and that I thought he was living an amazing life.  He considered that and then nodded, quietly satisfied, and invited me to his church.

Friends don't call friends morons

Some of you are upset because your Facebook friends have unfriended you because of your political posts during the election.  "They just can't handle the TRUTH," you sputter.   Maybe they are thin-skinned or willfully blind to the truth of your position.  May I just offer one other possibility?

Maybe when you post that people who believe *political position* are morons or idiots or brain-dead or traitors or colluding with Satan, your friend who believes *political position* realizes that you are talking about him.  Maybe he realizes that you're too nice or too clueless to call him names to his face but after a few of your posts, he sees what you really think of him.  Maybe he unfriends you because his feelings are hurt or maybe he realizes that you don't see him as a true American or as someone with the right to his opinions or someone with whom you can agree to disagree.  Maybe he realized you aren't really a friend.

Another book review: and this one's a 3-fer!

In the last month or so, I've read three different books with a common theme:  if you want to explore an idea, don't just research it or think about it.  Instead, do an experiment.

I started with Practicing the Way of Jesus:  Life Together in the Kingdom of Love by Mark Scandrette. The basic idea is that being a disciple means literally to be a learner and that the best way we learn is by practicing new ways of being and then reflecting on them in a group of other people who are practicing in similar ways.

When I heard Mark speak last year at a conference, he told the story of one group who took the teaching of John the Baptist that if you have two coats, you should give one away and decided to support each other in the process of giving away half their belongings.  Other groups have built experiments around practicing Sabbath or going without television or praying the daily office or giving to the poor.

Of course, most of us believe that we should practice the Sabbath or give more to charity or watch less TV or pray more.  The challenge here is to 1) find our challenge in the teachings of Jesus, 2) create a specific, time-limited experiment to practice that challenge, and 3) to share the experiment with a group of people who all commit to the same thing, practicing both accountability and a sharing of the learning.

The second book I read was 7 by Jen Hatmaker, which I've already reviewed twice on this blog.  In an effort to explore the effect of consumerism on her life, Jen gathers a group of people to support her as she takes on a series of one-month experiments.  Although she clearly did a lot of research about consumerism and its stranglehold on our culture, she made it personal by going without most foods, by giving away 7 items every day for 30 days, by going without media of all kinds (including her 3 kids in that one), by avoiding products associated with injustice and oppression (including coffee and chocolate) and so on.  She reflects on what she learned by doing in a painfully and hilariously authentic conversation with the reader.

The third book was the one I read on the plane going and coming from MI this week:  A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans.  Rachel wanted to explore both the supposed biblical and cultural expectations placed on women, especially religious women, and also wanted to challenge the biblical literalism of modern evangelical faith.

At different times during the year, she mothered a pretend baby, slept in a tent and carried around a stadium seat during her period, submitted to her husband's every whim and called him "master," kept a spotless house, reached out to the oppressed and needy, and refrained from talking in church.  The book is gimmicky, yes, but also creative, whimsical and subversive and it does a terrific job of exploring how we interpret the Bible when it comes to certain issues and how we interpret it differently when it comes to others.  People who lack a sense of irony or satire will not get this book, which means most of the people who need to read it won't really be able to.  The rest of us will really enjoy it, though, and it's a fun read.

What I loved about all three of these books was the sadly surprising idea of actually learning by doing when it comes to matters of faith and learning in public and learning with a group of people.  The different approaches to this reminded me of the Wesleys and the Methodists, the founders of AA, and yes, Jesus and the disciples.  I've already formed three new experiments of my own and I'm looking forward to learning what I learn.

A tiny miracle

I was at Barnes and Noble at Sunset Valley today (had to buy Rachel Held Evan's new book while it was still warm) when a man came in yelling and waving his arms around.  He had unkempt, greasy hair and wore clothes that were dirty and ill-fitting and he was clearly agitated, shouting at whoever would listen that he had paid good money for something (I couldn't understand what) and that he was being ripped off.

I didn't pay much attention at first as it seemed that someone stepped in to calm him down and then I didn't hear anything from him anymore.  However, when I got to the cash register, two managers were talking with him, trying to explain that the large, expensive-looking book he held in his hands was not re-sellable and that they couldn't give him any money for it and also trying to explain that the book he had ordered had been sent back because he hadn't picked it up.

He got more and more upset as they talked to him and clearly had no plans to give up his conviction that he was being cheated.  Then, as I stood there waiting to pay, two police officers came in and stood behind him at a polite distance, then moved in and escorted him out of the store.  I have to admit, I had the fear that once he was out of the sight of paying customers, he would be treated roughly or arrested.  As I left the store with my book (I got the last copy, by the way), one of the officers was advising the store managers of their rights in asking an unruly customer to leave.

What surprised me was what was happening on the sidewalk outside.  A middle-aged deputy was patiently explaining to the man about why his book was no longer available and even got out a calendar to show him when it would come in again and what day he should come to pick it up, writing the date on a piece of paper and handing it to him.  His voice was casual and calm, as though he were talking to a friend, and the man was equally calm, thanking the deputy for his help and getting ready to amble away.

Witnessing this small moment of kindness and dignity made me grateful for people who do a difficult job in a redemptive way.

Book review #1 (and it's a twofer!)

Jen Hatmaker has become one of my favorite new bloggers/authors in the last couple of months, mostly because I just read (and loved) her most recent two books:  Interrupted:  An Adventure in Relearning the Essentials of Faith and 7.

I liked her in her first life, when she was a regular Bible teacher and pastor's wife who wrote for young women, and I recommended her to the young women in my Sunday School class.  But in her second life--after being interrupted and ruined forever for life as usual--she is something else:  authentic and challenging and fierce.

If you want to get a feel for her writing (and her heart), go over to her blog and read the last two or three posts.  Prepare to feel something and to change something, even if you're an old cynic like me.

Interrupted is her own story about being interrupted by the brokenness of this world and the call of God to prophetic and ordinary engagement.  The story takes place on two fronts--her confrontation of herself and her own self-centeredness in the face of the brokenness of the world and the decision that she and her husband made to leave their traditional church and plant a new church (called New Church) which would focus on building a community where believers could follow this calling as a community.

I want everyone--yes, I mean everyone--to read the parts about how the world is broken and why and how we should care.  I want us all to read the parts about how Jesus calls us to this life and nothing less and hold hands and say yes.  I want you to read the story about Shane Claiborne and Jen and her new custom cowboy boots because it's just so perfect.

I have more mixed feelings about the other story line.  I loved reading about how Jen and her husband stepped out in faith to start this new church.  I want all of us to form small communities with other people to support and challenge and reinforce and love together as we collectively reach out to serve sacrificially.  I don't want everyone to leave their churches, though, at least not yet.  I want us to try to stay and reclaim, redeem, and restore . . . at least for now.  Unless, of course, God or good sense says otherwise, and then go in peace.

7 is a unique and whimsical book, chronicling a series of experiments that Jen and her friends did, in an effort to confront their patterns of consumerism 30 days at a time.  As Jen describes her efforts to eat only 7 foods for a month or to go without buying anything new or to give away 7 things a day, she is authentic, nonjudgmental (even of herself), heartbreakingly honest about the strongholds of consumerism that she confronts in herself and in the culture, and pee-your-pants hilarious.  And the story about the little pink purse?  Oh my.

It's really rare that a book can move me and change me.  These two books do, especially 7, just because it's so unique and conversational.  I'm planning to re-read both as soon as I can get to them.  And I'm taking on a couple of experiments of my own, to see what happens.  They're pretty close to my heart, so I may not write about them here, but I imagine that I'll share what I learn.

I know that several of you are reading these two books too--please leave a comment with your two cents' worth!

Speaking of cognitive dissonance . . .

If you were a fly on the wall in my house this week, you would have overheard C and me deep in conversation about whether I say “CAR-mel” corn (when referring to popcorn) and  “CAIR-uh-mehl” when referring to candy.  This mattered because I am ruthless with myself (and sometimes others) about consistency in all things.  I referred to the salted chocolates that I bought in Michigan last week as “CAIR-uh-mehls” (as I always do) and we were thinking about my inconsistency in pronunciation.  (We rarely argue in our house but when we do, it’s always over something stupid.)

Anyway, C can tell you that I am relentless about consistency in all matters theological, political or relational, which brings me to the topic of this post . . .

The other night before bed, I was reading through the biblical book of I Peter and picked up the theme in chapter 2 about submission to earthly authorities.  After enjoining all people to submit in general to kings and governors, Peter turns his attention to slaves, telling them to be submissive to their masters, even those that are cruel, because it is to our credit when we suffer unjustly. 

After ennobling the suffering of slaves by comparing it to the suffering of Jesus, he turns his attention to wives, reminding them “in the same way” to be submissive to their husbands, even those who are disobedient, to be chaste and respectful,  to have a “gentle and quiet spirit,” and to imitate Sarah, who “called her husband ‘Master.’”

I don’t remember ever hearing a sermon or reading a book about the first passage, about slaves submitting to their cruel masters.  But I’ve heard more sermons, sat through more lessons and read more books and articles about the second passage than I can count.  I’ve heard it used to explain why a wife should always let her husband make the decisions because then God will use his mistakes to bring him to repentance.  I’ve heard it used to explain why women shouldn’t be in some professions, like politics or business, because it is impossible for them to be “gentle and quiet” in those fields.  I’ve even heard it used—more than once—to explain why a woman should go back to an abusive husband, because his eternal salvation is more important than her getting slapped around every now and then (most recently by a famous conservative theologian).   (Disclaimer:  I know that many, many Christians don’t read this passage literally and would be as disturbed as I am by these ideas.  But I grew up with these ideas and they aren’t going away.)

Here’s what I don’t get:  as conservative Christians have gotten more involved in the issue of human trafficking and modern slavery, I have never once heard any of them say that we should encourage slaves to stay with their masters and submit to them rather than work for their rescue.  I’ve never heard the argument that Christian girls in other countries who are forced into prostitution should be counseled to be more submissive to their pimps or that men who are rescued out of mines or fields where they have been enslaved should instead go back to a life of servitude in order to imitate Christ. Just the opposite:  conservatives are now some of the most compassionate opponents of human trafficking.

I believe that they would say that Peter’s words to the slaves would be consistent with the Greco-Roman household codes of the day, in which slaves had no voice and no choices about their lives and no advocates for their freedom.  So why would the same people not also say the same thing about the women?  Why are the words to slaves obsolete but not the words to wives?  Note that we’re not talking about two disparate teachings in different parts of the Scriptures; we’re talking about verses separated only by a couple of related paragraphs.  Doesn't the phrase "in the same way" (I Peter 3:1) indicate that these two passages have to hang together, one way or the other?  

I want to be really clear:  this is a post about consistency (and it's opposite, cognitive dissonance), not a post about women or their rights (or lack thereof).  And let me also be clear about this:  conservatives have no more or less inconsistency than liberals and religious people are not more inconsistent than atheists.  But the consequences of inconsistency are dire. This is not a trivial theological argument akin to angels dancing on the head of a pin.  This is a place where the inability of some to see beyond their own cultural biases creates devastation for half the world's population in ways that they would never support or desire.  

This is why consistency matters.  This is why we have to be ruthless about rooting out our own cultural and religious and gender biases and lovingly holding up the mirror to each other.  I know.  One of the lessons I've heard about the subjugation of women was my own, a Sunday School lesson I taught more than once in my younger years.  And this is what repentance is:  changing our minds.

One last disclaimer:  I don't blame Peter for any of this.  He actually elevated those who were considered inferior in his culture and ennobled the suffering of those who were believed to be beneath notice and his subsequent counsel to husbands (I Peter 3:7) was nothing short of radical for his day.  

A few observations

I've been watching the vice-presidential debate tonight and I figure it embodied both the best and the worst of American politics.

Now I'm listening to the pundits process what happened and it is, as you'd expect, completely and predictably partisan.  There is no listening, no learning--only an attempt to score points.

What is equally predictable and partisan is the Facebook and Twitter chatter.  A friend of mine on Facebook posted that she sure hoped that the Republicans win the election so that Facebook can go back to being fun.  Her comment was tongue-in-cheek but my laugh was real.

The only thing I want to say at this point is to refer back to the conversation we've had on this blog about confirmation bias and cognitive dissonance.  I'm actually hearing a lot of reference to both in the political chatter and I'm glad.

But here's what seems to be lost on most of us:  If you can only see the confirmation bias of the other side, you don't really understand how it works.

Wondering

This weekend I overheard a woman talking about how she and her  husband give away half of what they spend.  Apparently other families in this church are doing the same thing because another woman asked her if she was "one of those" and she humbly said yes.  As I eavesdropped, she said that what that means for her is that every time she buys something--food, clothing, decorations for the house--she either buys a second one for someone who needs it or gives the equivalent amount of money to the appropriate person or group.  The thing that struck me was that she made it sound so easy--and fun!

That's always the way it is when someone has really mastered something, isn't it--they make it look easy and fun.  Unfortunately, giving has often been made to sound burdensome, something that has to be coerced or manipulated or cajoled.  Listening to this woman made me think of giving as something enticing and interesting.  I wanted to walk over and ask her to tell me the stories--Who does she give to?  How does she find out about needs?  How does she ensure that her giving protects the dignity of the recipient?  Does she give anonymously?  How has her giving been used by God?  (Of course, since I was eavesdropping, I just kept on walking, much to my chagrin.)

Recently, I was challenged to ask the question, "What do I have and who needs it?"  A friend corrected me, saying that the better question is, "What am I going to do about it?" and I plan to get to that question, but right now, the first question is really intriguing.  Right now, I'm looking at my stuff differently and wondering how on earth it all got here and why it's here and where it needs to go next.  I don't think it will be easy but I do think it will be fun to move toward this.

Meanwhile, completely unrelated, I've been reading Jen Hatmaker's book 7, in which she does 7 monthly experiments with her stuff and her habits using the number 7.  In other words, in one month, she eats 7 foods (more than most people in the world eat on a regular basis); in another month, she wears only 7 items of clothing.  It's a little contrived but it's also very challenging and it's hilarious, too--I'll keep you posted as I get further into it.

Book reviews to come, I promise!  Seriously, PCMFO and all the rest of you who keep bugging  encouraging me to do that, I will . . . soon . . . I promise.

The political essay I wish I had written

You can read this essay at this link or read it below:

The Wrong Side Absolutely Must Not Win

The past several weeks have made one thing crystal-clear: Our country faces unmitigated disaster if the Other Side wins.

A. Barton Hinkle | August 20, 2012

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The past several weeks have made one thing crystal-clear: Our country faces unmitigated disaster if the Other Side wins.

No reasonably intelligent person can deny this. All you have to do is look at the way the Other Side has been running its campaign. Instead of focusing on the big issues that are important to the American People, it has fired a relentlessly negative barrage of distortions, misrepresentations, and flat-out lies.

Just look at the Other Side’s latest commercial, which take a perfectly reasonable statement by the candidate for My Side completely out of context to make it seem as if he is saying something nefarious. This just shows you how desperate the Other Side is and how willing it is to mislead the American People.

The Other Side also has been hammering away at My Side to release certain documents that have nothing to do with anything, and making all sorts of outrageous accusations about what might be in them. Meanwhile, the Other Side has stonewalled perfectly reasonable requests to release its own documents that would expose some very embarrassing details if anybody ever found out what was in them. This just shows you what a bunch of hypocrites they are.

Naturally, the media won’t report any of this. Major newspapers and cable networks jump all over anything they think will make My Side look bad. Yet they completely ignore critically important and incredibly relevant information that would be devastating to the Other Side if it could ever be verified.

I will admit the candidates for My Side do make occasional blunders. These usually happen at the end of exhausting 19-hour days and are perfectly understandable. Our leaders are only human, after all. Nevertheless, the Other Side inevitably makes a big fat deal out of these trivial gaffes, while completely ignoring its own candidates’ incredibly thoughtless and stupid remarks – remarks that reveal the Other Side’s true nature, which is genuinely frightening.

My Side has produced a visionary program that will get the economy moving, put the American People back to work, strengthen national security, return fiscal integrity to Washington, and restore our standing in the international community. What does the Other Side have to offer? Nothing but the same old disproven, discredited policies that got us into our current mess in the first place.

Don’t take my word for it, though. I recently read about an analysis by an independent, nonpartisan organization that supports My Side. It proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that everything I have been saying about the Other Side was true all along. Of course, the Other Side refuses to acknowledge any of this. It is too busy cranking out so-called studies by so-called experts who are actually  nothing but partisan hacks. This just shows you that the Other Side lives in its own little echo chamber and refuses to listen to anyone who has not already drunk its Kool-Aid.

Let’s face it: The Other Side is held hostage by a radical, failed ideology. I have been doing some research on the Internet, and I have learned this ideology was developed by a very obscure but nonetheless profoundly influential writer with a strange-sounding name who enjoyed brief celebrity several decades ago. If you look carefully, you can trace nearly all the Other Side’s policies for the past half-century back to the writings of this one person.

To be sure, the Other Side also has been influenced by its powerful supporters. These include a reclusive billionaire who has funded a number of organizations far outside the political mainstream; several politicians who have said outrageous things over the years; and an alarmingly large number of completely clueless ordinary Americans who are being used as tools and don’t even know it.

These people are really pathetic, too. The other day I saw a YouTube video in which My Side sent an investigator and a cameraman to a rally being held by the Other Side, where the investigator proceeded to ask some real zingers. It was hilarious! First off, the people at the rally wore T-shirts with all kinds of lame messages that they actually thought were really clever. Plus, many of the people who were interviewed were overweight, sweaty, flushed, and generally not very attractive. But what was really funny was how stupid they were. There is no way anyone could watch that video and not come away convinced the people on My Side are smarter, and that My Side is therefore right about everything.

Besides, it’s clear that the people on the Other Side are driven by mindless anger – unlike My Side, which is filled with passionate idealism and righteous indignation. That indignation, I hasten to add, is entirely justified. I have read several articles in publications that support My Side that expose what a truly dangerous group the Other Side is, and how thoroughly committed it is to imposing its radical, failed agenda on the rest of us.

That is why I believe 2012 is, without a doubt, the defining election of our lifetime. The difference between My Side and the Other Side could not be greater. That is why it absolutely must win on November 6.

This column originally appeared in the Richmond Times-Dispatch.