A Walk Down Memory Lane Is Like A Walk Down Dysfunction Drive (Or, My Childhood in Silent Hill)

Please allow me to make a confession: I like the horror genre of games and movies. Note that I say horror and not necessarily gore. I actually enjoy the rush from identifying with the lead character's psychological torment and the complex yet oh so simple nature of fear [1]. As such, I get a kick out of the Silent Hill series of games which focus on a single player character's trials as they journey through their own guilty psyches in a custom-made limbo [2] around the terror town of Silent Hill. The games are designed with an amazingly eerie atmosphere of sights and sounds that remind you that you are so utterly alone [3]. The other night I decided to kick back and partake of Silent Hill 2 and I began to reflect on my childhood.

My current read is What Your Childhood Memories Say About You by Dr. Kevin Leman so the connection was not that big of a leap. Leman's basic premise is that your childhood memories can provide a basic look at your private logic as you essentially hold on to memories for specific, personal reasons. This is why I can't seem to remember for what I drove to the grocery but I can tell you about the time when I was four that I left a grocery store with a woman who looked like (but was not) my mother [4]. He also works in some great discussion of nature and nurture, focusing on how the nature leads to the specifics of nurture and how birth order can affect personality development [5].

Two of my earliest childhood memories [6] seem oddly reminiscent of the Silent Hill series. The first happened when I was about three or four. I was playing on my parents' unmade bed and slipped. Fortunately the sheets caught me before I busted my head open; unfortunately, I became trapped in a cocoon of those very same sheets. After squirming for a bit and deciding I was thoroughly trapped, I started shouting for mom to come and let me out. She never came. I continued at higher and higher volumes (and pitches) until it all seemed quite hopeless.

In the Silent Hill series, you're usually alone in the town. Sure, there may be other 'people,' but they are generally unhelpful and not the best company. The foggy city with many blocked paths and gratuitous use of fences provides the perfect atmosphere to make you fell isolated, trapped, and quite hopeless.

It was at that point, while wrapped in a pouch of sheets, that something in my young mind developed: "If I'm going to get out of this, then I will have to do it myself. I can't rely on anyone else to do it for me. It's up to me to solve my own problems - to find my own way." I then worked on a method of guess-and-check to figure a way out of the sheets. After who knows how long, I was free. I then found mom in the next room, completely oblivious to my prior plight [7]. Leman points out that only children typically have memories of "fierce independence" that are "often without anyone else in them" as well as "fearful memories" with themes of "making mistakes" and including "plenty of detail." Sounds like my memory in a nutshell.

The point of my memory, however, is that it awakened a necessary independence in me that has persisted to today. I typically solve my problems on my own and approach life's issues with an analytical mind. I also tend to apply that mind to help others. I have an "if it is to be, it is up to me" mentality that often leads me to take up tasks to help others without being asked (sometimes good, sometimes bad). For example, a few years ago I took over the sound and media at a church plant at which I was leading youth when the actual sound guy failed to show up the fourth week into it. It's about three years later and I'm still helping with sound at my current site's youth and adult services. I had to teach myself at first and eventually received some actual training. I will confess that it's not exactly something I like to do, but it is something I understand is necessary and will do as needed. We had a meeting this past Saturday and our head of media talked about needing to have a calling to that ministry. I guess I received my call back in that tangle of bedsheets. It's my natural inclination to independently jump in and try to fix things.

The other memory is actually a recurring dream (or nightmare) I've had since I was four [8]. In the dream, I'm stuck in this house. It seems very clean but very barren. No one else is visible. When I try to look out the window, I can't - as if there's nothing to look at. I know that the house has white siding but I never see it (odd thing to know but never see). I keep trying to find an exit and explore the house but I never find one. In one part of the house, which is filled with light through all of the windows, there is a dark room (with no windows). I try to go in and see what is in there. As I do, I get this horrid feeling like I'm not alone and then I feel like I'm moving. Suddenly, it's like the lights pop back on and I'm right back where I started in the entrance hall. I'm trapped and alone, but I'm not alone.

I'm sure a psychologist could find many things to comment on here but in the game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories, Harry Mason (the game's protagonist) at one point goes through such a room. It's like the developers scavenged my brain to find the most terrifying memory from my past. This memory sticks out to me because of the unease felt in the isolation. Going lucid didn't help. Even when I would stay and wait in the lighted rooms of the house, it was almost as if the dark room would seek me out and draw me into itself. The house was always unfamiliar and it seemed to change itself when I wasn't looking [9] so the dark room could show up right around the next corner or right behind me.

I can't say I've learned much from that dream other than I hate feeling trapped and I hate being messed with. It's somewhat like the movie Cube or the game Portal (or the Silent Hill series). Come to think of it, most of the games and movies I like seem to allow me to vicariously relive and, potentially, triumph over this nightmare. Hmmm . . .

Isn't it fun to self-analyze?

What are some of your childhood memories?

Heads up! I'll probably revisit this topic a few times. It's a good book.

[1] This may be due to or why I am such a fan of The Twilight Zone.

[2] Or Hell, depending on your interpretation.

[3] But not as alone as you wish you were.

[4] Thankfully she didn't want to take a little boy home for keeps but she did have ice cream in her bags so I probably wouldn't have minded.

[5] He seems to have me, my dad, my mom, and several others I know pegged in regard to his birth order theories. If you're looking for a birthday gift for me, I'd love to read his full book on birth order.

[6] Don't worry, they won't all be shared here.

[7] I have forgiven her for this. The radio was on and the kitchen window was open, allowing the screams of youth soccer to fill the house.

[8] Most likely one of the nightmares that was brought on by a head injury I received at daycare that led to many years of EEGs, CAT scans, and seizure fears.

[9] Think of the stairs at Hogwarts.

Picking Up An Old Project

So a couple of years ago I started a little creative writing project at WEbook. Well, I got busy and never wrapped it up but I also never forgot about it. Today I was killing some time between things I had to be at and picked it back up. The basic premise is that of an alternative reality set in the near future in which I do the 'Dad blog' thing like one of my favorite bloggers, Poop and Boogies. I based it on a few general characteristics from my life and used it as a way to process some information from a class I was taking. In it, I have a five-year-old son named Andrew. This is odd because a) I have never had any intention of naming my son Andrew and b) shortly after writing the original piece I met some people who had a five-year-old named Andrew who looked exactly like what I was imagining.

I've got two other posts I'm working on now. One is reflecting on a book I'm reading and a video game series I enjoy. The other is a commentary on the three levels of worship that I formulated today while at a worship/media team meeting.

These will probably both be posted within the next week, but I wanted to go ahead and share this now. Fourth post in a month, new record! Again, click the first link in this post to view the original project and meet Andrew.

"Dance! Dance! Dancing!"

My son, Andrew, has taken to convulsing in public and calling it 'dancing.' The wife claims he gets this from me, which may be true. She strictly choreographed our first (and only public) dance at our wedding reception beforehand. I was to lead in a left-right sway while slowly spinning – clockwise, it must be clockwise – as my hands rested on her hips and hers on my shoulders. After this traditionally mandated exercise, she retired to the table to gawk at those who would dare to make such fools of themselves in public – of which I was a subset.

To be fair to her, the shoes she had been talked into wearing for the ceremony were a fearsome pair of blister-inducing, shin-splinters. In addition, she did join us for group dances to the "Electric Slide" and "YMCA" – dances which are also traditionally mandated.

To be fair to me, I can at least produce the appearance of knowing what I'm doing. The secret is to force your face into its most serious expression so that everyone thinks you are concentrating on getting the moves just right, thus giving you the look of a true artist. Sadly, most of my attempts at fancy footwork quickly devolve into the 'skank' – a classic dance for ska music that involves swinging your elbows around and kicking your legs out while hopping to the beat.

Sadder still, Andrew appears to have not even progressed to the skank. He merely writhes and throws various sections of his body outward with no regard for the music. This gives the impression of either a nod to Dadaism or demonic possession. He does this while shouting various forms of the word 'dance', thus adding to his overall image of mental instability. He may be on to something, however, as he seems to have attracted more attention from his beloved teacher who exclaims, "Beautiful, Andrew! You are such an excellent dancer!" thus adding to her overall image of mental instability.

I'm trying to educate him on proper form – something The Wiggles have apparently failed to do. We've watched Breakin' (I and II), Footloose, and that one scene from Beauty and the Beast (we can't watch the entire movie as the clock man frightens him). Unfortunately, all this has served to do is inspire him to throw himself on the floor for his convulsions and call it 'break dancing.' At the store the other night a lady called for an ambulance thinking he was having a seizure.

My wife claims that it's just a phase and he will grow out of it soon, much like his crotch-punching phase. Still, I'm considering calling a special prayer session at church next Wednesday to lay hands on him. I'll wear my pea soup colored shirt just in case.

My Favorite 'Twilight' Involves No Prissy Vampires (Or, How Rod Serling Taught Me About Life)

Last weekend I discovered that Netflix has started to carry the entire original series of The Twilight Zone. I've loved the ethic dramas of Rod Serling and others for years. These stories have motivated my interests in stories and films of philosophical depth. These stories also have a heavy connection with my childhood. Because of this, I have been on a nostalgia kick while analyzing the roots of my psychological development.

I don't remember exactly when I first watched an episode, but I know I was around six- or seven-years-old. I would get up past bedtime to watch it and keep the set volume low so as to avoid confrontations with mom or dad. The stories Rod Serling presented would terrify and inspire me. Even as a child, I began to connect the terrors of the show with the realities of the world around me. I began to understand that the fears and desires of men - as well as their best intentions - could be their undoing or lead to great evil.

A few episodes still stick in my mind all of these years since.

A Nice Place to Visit taught me that Hell is getting everything you ever wanted, thus removing any sense of adventure - and any reason to live.

The Little People taught me to tread lightly in dealing with others as, although I may be above them, someone else is ultimately above me. This also gave me some hope when dealing with bullies in the many years to come. In addition, I learned never to think too highly of myself.

Nothing in the Dark taught me that I had nothing to fear from death as "What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the beginning."

The Obsolete Man taught me the value of ideas and of every individual. It taught me that even my death should be used to promote truth. As I grew older and watched it again, Romney Wordsworth's words further impressed on me the importance of actually knowing of God for myself. "You cannot erase God with an edict!" This may have inevitably triggered the Grand Search that led me to Christ.

It's a Good Life, that iconic episode, frightened me to no end. I learned that any power I may be equipped with should be used for the benefit of others and not to control them. The torment of Anthony's family and neighbors taught me that personal control of everything was not something to be desired, nor was the suffering of others just because they make you unhappy or hurt.

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street (my favorite episode - the first I saw and often cited as the greatest episode of the series) taught me just how dangerous fear and ignorance could be amongst people. Fear leads to faulty conclusions and false knowledge. I remember identifying with the character of Tommy who, regrettably, provides the 'silly' concept that fuels the fear of the entire group and later has that fear directed toward him.

A Close Call

One of the blogs I follow (and I suggest you do too) recently made an interesting post describing what most of us would consider to be a major inconvenience to a large family. Instead of following her initial impulse to be bitter, she turned the situation on its head. Take a look:

I have been trying, every time I get stuck in traffic, or the keys get locked in the car, or we get lost on the way to our destination, to view these frustrations as ways in which God steers us away from more difficult circumstances, even danger. Maybe my plans are simply not what He had in mind. Maybe there are people whose paths we are to cross, whom we would otherwise never know, if our schedule went as we had designed. Perhaps, more seriously, we would have met our demise from a reckless driver or a downed tree or a deer in the road....we may never know this side of heaven, but it seems like a reasonable explanation to me.

About five years ago, when I was still working in a grocery store back home on breaks, I had gotten roped into working until 11:30 at night on the fourth of July. I hated to miss out on the festivities but I needed the money (the holiday pay was good). On my way home, I stopped at the traffic light in front of the shopping center. When the light turned green, I hit the gas to go and was met with a mild sputter and even the electrical system of my car failed.

Just as I was about to get mad, I saw a pickup fly through the intersection in front of me. The guy driving had plowed through a red light and would have plowed into me had my car not died. He didn't even have his lights on so I wouldn't have seen him in enough time to get out of the way.

I thanked God for the save and then felt like I should pray for that driver's safety. I then tried to start my engine again. It started perfectly and didn't give me anymore problems. As I made my way home, I passed the pickup down the road. The driver had received a blue-light special and was failing his sobriety test miserably, thus insuring a safe night in the clink (the power of prayer, I guess).

The thing is, had I not been inconvenienced, I would have been horribly maimed at the very least. My car just dying and then restarting with no previous or following problems is suspicious. I think Someone must have messed with my engine. I'm glad He did. It was all just a 'God-incidence'.

Because I Care Enough About You to Want You to Do Well

This past week I was on Spring Break so I made the painfully long [1] pilgrimage up north to see my girlfriend and her family [2]. There we watched movies [3], answered thought-provoking questions, ate good food, were blown away at a couple soccer matches [4], and baked cakes for three birthdays [5]. We also helped her little brother with his state history project [6] but the event this post refers to occurred the night before we left to visit my parents [7].

We were sitting around quite a while after the birthday party discussing the usuals of politics and the economy, when I noticed her little brother [8] sneak down from the top floor and further descend the stairs to the basement den. At first I assumed that he had forgotten something as he had been playing down there earlier; however, when he tarried and I could faintly hear some sounds, I knew exactly what he was doing. Not wanting to break up the others' conversation, I walked down the stairs myself.

I found him sitting in his Jar Jar Binks inflatable chair playing his X-Box 360 [9]. After telling him a couple times to save and shut down, and being blatantly ignored, I turned the game off.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you know it's time for bed. You have school and tests tomorrow. You need sleep."

"I can sleep right here in my Jar Jar chair."

"No, you need to go up to bed and get a good night's sleep. Besides, Jar Jar is creepy."

"You can't make me, I'm staying right here!"

At this point I reminded him of my alternate identity as the tickle monster, thus removing him from the chair. I then carried him to the foot of the steps and told him to go on up.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I care enough about you to want you to do well."

This stopped him for a second and then, "Well, you can't carry me up all of these stairs!"

"Wanna bet?"

At which point I carried him to the ground floor where, when he recognized he was caught, he begged to be released. I sat him down and accepted his poorly concealed hug [10] before he headed, begrudgingly, upstairs.

He got the message, much like one boy I knew way back when, who also liked to sneak down and play games at night, got the message [11].

[1] About five and a half hours but it felt longer since I was listening to Dawkins on audio book.

[2] Well worth the trip! She's the kind of girl that makes me understand my favorite Marvin Gaye song.

[3] Including one sharing the title of my favorite Bill Withers song, a blatant rip-off of Batman that allowed me to make some great '90s PSA references, and The Lincoln Lawyer, which I suggest waiting until it's out on DVD as it feels like it would be better on a home screen.

[4] No, the kids weren't that good. The wind was intense that day and left us with nice wind burns to go with our sun burns. I got to see kids kick soccer balls toward the other team's goal only to see the wind blow the ball right back over their heads. I also got to see a kid learn why you don't pee into the wind even if you were told to go by the fence that is facing the wind. Poor kid, but therapists have to make money somehow!

[5] Her mom, sister, and maternal grandfather all had birthdays that week. We celebrated them all together but we still had two cakes and one big bowl of Jell-O! I'm glad I came up with the idea of getting three candles representing the numbers of their combined ages as it made for less fire and less waxy cake.

[6] As a teacher I couldn't not help or, better put, I couldn't not criticize the meaningless organizational activity that was being passed off as a project while belittling the poorly written rubric that failed to include criteria mentioned on other randomly inserted sheets. This is why our state is doing better than their state. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

[7] A six hour drive that involves passing through two major cities and their continual construction projects. She must like Marvin Gaye too.

[8] Who was supposed to be in bed as he had school and state testing the next day.

[9] I must confess that my girlfriend, her sister, and I went in together to get this for him for Christmas so that we could prank him, but that's a tale for another day.

[10] Because I'm not buying that the squeeze was merely for stabilizing his landing.

[11] Thanks, dad! I love you! I figure you'll facebook-stalk your way here someday!

Do Not Neglect The Gift That Is In You

"Until I arrive, give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching.

Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders.

Put these things into practice, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress.

Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; continue in these things, for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers."

- I Timothy 4:13-16 (NRSV)

"God gave us faculties for our use; each of them will receive its proper reward. Then do not let us try to charm them to sleep, but permit them to do their work until divinely called to something higher." - Teresa of Avila

The Mark of a bibliophile

All of the rooms in my house contain books. Over-stuffed bookshelves adorn the walls of my living room, bedroom, and office. Books can even be found in my kitchen [1] and bathroom [2]. A quick search of my car will also turn up a book or two [3]. Additionally, my computer and laptop contain months of reading material with access to a plethora of further resources. I have a Kindle that is also heavily loaded with reading material.

Essentially, I am inundated with books.

Not only that, I am immersed in information. Especially when you consider that I prefer non-fiction [4] – essays, interpretations, guidance, references, memoirs, how-to books, philosophy, theology, etc. – my library is a veritable depository [5] of both esoteric and exoteric [6] thought. When mixed with my enjoyment of other forms of information, I may be considered a philosopher or gnosophile [7]. Either way you say it, had I been in the Garden of Eden, there may have been no fruit left on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil for Adam and Eve. I would have converted it all into paper and ink for the sake of bringing books into the world.

My point is that I am a bibliophile [8]. I love reading and learning new things or rereading and spending time with an old friend. As Aunt Vivian (played by Ellen Greene) remarked of eating Ned’s (played by Lee Pace) pies in the show Pushing Daisies, “It’s like a sex addiction” [9]. I am fairly certain that books must do for me what sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll do for others – just without the nasty side effects that will ultimately consume them [10]. I must also admit that I am not monogamous when it comes to reading; I tend to have about eight or so going at the same time [11]. However, I do expect for me to be their one-and-only (I consider library books to be the harlots of the book world [12]), although I will pick up a widow from a flea market every so often and will let my friends spend some time with them occasionally.

I blame my dad. He is well known for picking up [13] large stacks of books from the public library and returning them within the same week only to replace them with a new pile. He got me into this love of reading by setting the example. I watched him read [14] countless novels [15] over the course of my life.

For me, books are a way to explore places I cannot go, to meet people who I will most likely never encounter, to toy with ideas that are not my own, to live lives that I was not born into, and to learn things that may or may not have any discernable value to my life other than the joy received from the knowledge of just how diverse creation has become [16].

I bring this up because of something I did today. I skipped lunch after church [17] so that I could afford a book at the local coffee-shop/bookstore [18]. It really is like a sex addiction, Vivian, it really is.

[1] I don’t just mean cookbooks. I sometimes read as I cook, wash dishes, or do laundry.

[2] I had a friend who poked fun at me for doing my quiet time (Christianese for prayer, Bible study, meditation, and generally spending time with God) on the can. I considered it to be a form of humble obeisance – approaching His throne from my own, if you will. My method was also a way to ensure that it happened at least once every day (take that as you will). Additionally, this was often the only time I had alone. He considered this to be ‘so weird’ that he could not conceive of doing this himself. I would like to point out that this individual would read Trivial Pursuit cards while doing his business. These were the same cards he would use when playing the game with family and friends. I win.

[3] I do not condone reading (or texting) while driving. I have a hard enough time taking a quick glance at my TomTom – thus why Yoda is my constant travel companion. Additionally, God inspired someone to create audio-books for a reason (probably to keep my girlfriend and me alive).

[4] I lump allegory in with non-fiction as long as the text has an intention akin to parable and not merely entertainment.

[5] Books are to depositories as suppositories are to butts.

[6] Exoteric is for the general public – simple, approachable, common. Esoteric is for a select few with special knowledge or interests – deep, difficult, personal.

[7] Lover of wisdom or lover of knowledge, respectively. Yes, Kyle, I had to make up the last one as I don’t want to call myself a Gnostic.

[8] Note my use of the lower-case ‘b’, indicating that I am a lover of books in general as opposed to just a Bibliophile – lover of the Bible, which I also consider myself.

[9] This show should not have been cancelled so early. A forensic fairy tale with an amazing cast, cerebral scripting, and beautiful art direction that warrants your purchase of both seasons on DVD.

[10] With the one exception of the financial depletion that also plagues bibliophiles.

[11] To my girlfriend: Do not worry, I will not do this with women. I cannot. You are far too interesting for me to have another. Besides which I could not buy more books if there were another woman, I can barely afford them now.

[12] I guess this makes librarians pimps. This thought makes me giggle.

[13] It even sounds like prostitution, doesn’t it?

[14] Okay, the reading = sex metaphor stops here. That just feels so wrong to say.

[15] Yes, he is a fan of lowly fiction, but I still love him. At least he reads smart fiction (Heinlein, Tolkien, Vonnegut, Greeley, etc.). I will admit that I like a slim picking of fiction as well, just not as much as dad.

[16] I also blame my excessive use of footnotes and links to references on my being a bibliophile.

[17] No, mom, I am not starving myself.

[18] The book is Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman, a collection of essays I would recommend to anyone wanting to understand bibliophiles. She mentions that she didn’t consider herself fully married until after she and her husband merged their book collections – five years and one child after their wedding. Again, reading is intimate.

The Defective LEGO Set - The Necessity of Faith to Complete Logic

Grant me a moment to make a confession.

I LOVE LEGOs!

Ever since I was a lad, I've been fascinated by construction. The simple fact that we can take unassuming materials and synthesize them into something of greater use blows me away. As a child I was impressed by innovations and the inventors who brought them to life. That we could design and create using the minds and faculties given us still puts me in awe. Although today my awe is not of the materials, nor of our making, but of that greater Creator who has placed in us this ability as a reflection of Himself.

Still, I enjoy those little plastic building blocks. I have all of the Bionicle: Glatorian and Matoran first runs, with most of the vehicles as well as some of the Creator series plus whatever still exists in my parents' attic/basement. So . . . I'm a nerd but I figure being 24 doesn't mean I can't be 12 sometimes and I'm constantly being inspired by some of my kids' creations.

The great thing about LEGOs is that one brick is worthless by itself but, when combined with others, they can form a spaceship, a fire station, or a castle. They are the foundational materials for creation when placed in the hands of someone with a brain (which most people have - thus why zombies are a fear of those who don't use it).

Herein lies the point of this post: playing with LEGOs is analogous to working with logic.

In every situation we are presented with a problem. These problems have at least one solution each. To reach these solutions, we apply logic to the situation. We use combinations of the building blocks provided in the problem statement with those from our memory of similar experiences to reach each of the potential solutions following set patterns of logic. This is kind of like using the same blocks provided within a LEGO set to build different models by following different sets of instructions or developing our own models with those blocks using instructions from our memories to access new solutions based on how it "should" look. Essentially, we rearrange building blocks of thought to help us through the day and the methods we use to rearrange these blocks are made up of their own sets of blocks. It is all continual construction from fundamental discoveries mostly made early in life and some suppressed to the subconscious for those who don't choose to actively use logic. As such, we should be able to choose all of our outcomes through a simple completing of the set.

It seems simple (or I can break it down to seem simple); however, this process is marred by one problem: our LEGO set is defective.

Blocks or instructions in our minds are missing or faulty. We don't have complete knowledge in every situation and, by virtue of others' missing pieces, most of our interactions become further steeped in mystery. Logic fails where knowledge is lacking. In this system the best we can achieve is a few extra blocks to work with later.

So where does faith fit?

Faith is an action taken based on belief. It recognizes the imperfection of knowledge in our logic process and follows the path highlighted by belief. Faith says, "no," to all of the lesser but clearer options and says, "yes," to an option not seen by natural logic. Or, as the author of the epistle to the Hebrews puts it, "Now faith is the substance [building block] of things hoped for [the desired outcome], the evidence of things not seen [the logic path to that desired outcome]" (Hebrews 11:1 NKJV, emphasis and inserts mine).

Now faith may seem illogical to many as it takes a step to the side of natural understanding and holds onto a supernatural ("beyond/outside of the natural") understanding. Faith may even seem counter-active at a smaller scale but can work up to a positive outcome on a larger scale.

Case-in-point: Genesis 22:1-18

Here we have the case of Abraham. Told to sacrifice the "impossible" child of he and his wife's old age to the God who gave him this gift in the first place. The entire situation doesn't make sense. God has promised Abraham that He will make him a father of many nations through Isaac and yet here He is commanding Abraham to slaughter and immolate the boy. AND ABRAHAM IS GOING THROUGH WITH IT!

Obviously Abraham isn't being logical. Or is he?

Abraham knows that:

1. God gave him Isaac (an improbable gift) in the first place.
2. God made him a promise in Isaac that is based on the boy's survival.
3. God has told him to sacrifice Isaac.

Numbers 2 and 3 appear to contradict in the realm of natural logic and this is precisely what piques Abraham's interest. We have evidence of Abraham's thought process from what he says to his servants in verse 5: ". . . we will come back to you" (emphasis mine).

Abraham, recognizing the oddity of the situation, goes with it knowing that he will get Isaac back no matter what happens. He could not necessarily see the end result but he knew Isaac had to make it through and that it is worth it to obey God (that's how he got Isaac in the first place). Abraham took his "leap of faith" to complete the defective LEGO set. He figured that God would give him back Isaac in some way but he didn't know how, nor did he know why he was being asked to do this. He completed the logic using faith so that he could move through and beyond this decision. From this, Isaac was given a positive example of faith and his father's love. Abraham received his son and the blessing was passed on.

Everyone fills their logic gaps with something. Either emotions, 'feelings', or some other form of faith. Abraham acted on his faith in the relationship he had with God - Whom he believed had the perfect knowledge to complete logic.

It's impossible to avoid choices.

You have to fill the gaps with something.

How will you complete your defective LEGO set?

Rabbit Hole Verses - I Peter 3:8

"Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind." - I Peter 3:8 (NRSV)

I have a habit during service of turning to the passage being discussed, catching sight of a verse, and mentally getting lost in it for the next few hours. Thankfully, I have a multi-threaded mind so I can continue to follow along in the service and conduct myself in other functions. Usually I just mull these over and then move on without recording the instance. Today's verse I feel compelled (and have time) to analyze and write about. Let's break it down:

First of all: "Finally"

It may be odd to begin at an end but it is important to note that this verse comes at the climax of a guide that began as an encouragement to those who, having not seen, still believed during the trials that they continued to suffer. "Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls." - I Peter 1:8-9 (NRSV).

Peter instructs his audience to recall the prophets of old who, though made aware that this promise was to culminate at a latter time, still rejoiced in their labor toward that glorious day (10-12). From this foundation, he puts forth that our minds must be prepared for action so that we may live in the promise and not return to ignorance and its fruits (13-16). Peter also explains that we are capable of living in this way because Christ picked up our tab (17-21). With this he introduces his major topic and the secret to enduring this time of trial before the glory is revealed: "Now that you have purified your souls by your obedience to the truth so that you have genuine mutual love, love one another deeply from the heart." - I Peter 1:22 (NRSV)

And there it is: the secret is love. Peter is writing to let us know that, because of Christ's sacrifice, we actually have an excuse (and an ability) to love each other and that this is what will help us to continue. Our souls have been purified through obedience and that which will sustain this state within us is love, is community.

Peter gives instruction on cleaning inner-house (2:1), on developing a positive self- and communal-image (2-10), in dealing with living in an antagonistic society (11-25), and in preserving peace in the union of marriage (3:1-7). But then we come to "Finally . . ."

Second of all: "all of you"

This is where Peter signifies that this is not optional. It's not a "well that works for you, but I've got my own way" type of thing. This isn't merely relative to a specific time or place or sub-group, this is a universal command to those who would claim Christ.

Third (and, technically, fourth) of all: "have unity of spirit, sympathy"

Sympathy means (from dictionary.com):

1.harmony of or agreement in feeling, as between persons or on the part of one person with respect to another.

2.the harmony of feeling naturally existing between persons of like tastes or opinion or of congenial dispositions.

3.the fact or power of sharing the feelings of another, esp. insorrow or trouble; fellow feeling, compassion, or commiseration.

4.sympathies: a.feelings or impulses of compassion. b.feelings of favor, support, or loyalty: It's hard to tell where your sympathies lie.

Here Peter calls us to truly be a community - feeling with one another and sharing in each other's struggles. He calls us to be considerate, to be compassionate, and to be loyal to one another. There is a charge here to think; a charge to put my mind to serving the man to my left and the man to my right because they are more than just loose associations - they are a part of who I am. Consider: when you get a cut on your foot, you adjust the way your body operates to help that foot to heal. Some parts carry more weight, some parts move into action to apply aid. Your entire body is affected. If this didn't happen, that cut would continually rip open, becoming deeper and more severe each time. The cut would eventually become infected and either be lost or act as a gateway to a greater disaster. If the body doesn't choose to act, it will be forced to act. In the same way, we - as a body - must choose to be compassionate to the other parts of the body or we will be drug down with them when they fail.

Fifth of all: "love for one another"

This call for mutual love is not merely a weak echo. Love, like faith, is often a word we treat as a simple noun and not as the action verb that it is. This is a call to choose the action of love. A call to remember that our responsibility is to do everything that is in our power (which we have been given in great abundance) to love each other. Although we cannot control the actions of others, we can - and must - control ourselves to strive for peace and, most of all, truth. Love cautions; love corrects. Love is not silent. Love builds up. Love maintains. Love sustains.

Sixth of all: "a tender heart"

Peter calls for awareness - that we should not be blind or deaf or numb to that which afflicts the rest of the body. Again, we must be considerate, compassionate, and loyal that the body may survive and grow. We should not ignore the needs of our greater family be they physical, mental, or spiritual - even needs of discipline.

Seventh of all: "and a humble mind."

You're not perfect. Deal with it and move on. You can be wrong. To survive we must be teachable; willing to take the correction from those of tender heart - those who have felt the suffering we may have even come to ignore. As Solomon passed on to his son, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be a healing for your flesh and a refreshment for your body." - Proverbs 3:5-8 (NRSV)

And, if you just skimmed through that last verse thinking, "Oh, I've read this before, I know it," then look again. Read it and let it sink in. Take on the humble mind, drinking in deep the beauty and novelty of the passage (and noticing that I didn't cut it after verse six as many are in the habit of doing).

Get lost in the Word and come out with a story to tell.

New Poem "Instruction Ignored"

Had some inspiration and felt like doing some writing.

This is a villanelle (a certain poetic form) that might be good for sharing with those who don't listen to authority.

For those who don't know: fey, in this context, is referring to a state of being in unnaturally high spirits - a demeanor once thought to precede death. This is not a reference to any manner of enchanted creatures. Also, bairn is another term for children.

Instruction Ignored

by Shannon Nichols

When night is new and long waits the day,

Where sorrow grips what is lost by time,

The storm comes and all is washed away.

Longing for that child's caution in play,

Kind Mother warns in old tale and rhyme,

When night is new and long waits the day.

Yet now at dusk with help of youth's fey,

"Ye child forget of sweet lover's chime:

The storm comes and all is washed away."

At peak of pitch with no wit to say,

Cries of fear reveal neglect's cold crime,

When night is new and long waits the day.

As winds are chased through skies darkened gray,

As when seas chop at the tides' forced climb,

The storm comes and all is washed away.

Bairn were fond of, on beach by the bay,

Caverns' nocturnal myst'ries sublime,

When night is new and long waits the day,

The storm comes and all is washed away.