Coke

I was recently in the Atlanta airport and immediately thought of Coke. I think it could have been all the advertisements. 

In the midst of the turmoil of our world, I started to sing out loud, 
"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony, 
I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company." 

This was horrifying on so many fronts that I was almost as embarrassed as the teenagers around me. I don't really remember the exact tune, but tunes and other such details are not my strong point anyway. I also started cackling as soon as the words escaped me at the humor of such an empty promise.

Now Coke has given up on world peace and targets the idea of people knowing your name and befriending you. Aim high. I'm not sure if that is revealing of our cultural shift or Coke's humility. In 1971, it was the key to world peace and now it is the key to someone knowing your name.

In the 50s Coke promised a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and "fitting in" during those awkward pre-teen and teen years. This did not work for me since Coke just made me gassy and flatulence doesn't help anyone fit in.

All of them empty promises. Coke can't help you fit in any more than it leads to world peace. We can't buy or drink our way out of the divisions that keep us alienating if not killing each other.

This would be a great lead in to say that Jesus can fix all this, but I think way too many atrocities have been committed in his name to get much buy in so I'm going to instead say . . . 

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce. 

I love this stuff and we go through huge bottles on a pretty regular basis. It is sweet and spicy all at the same time. It doesn't cover up the flavor of food, but brings out a complexity and richness that leaves you with a little taste bud party.

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce embodies the grace of paradox. It captures the mystery we often miss in Jesus when we box him into fighting for one side, namely our side. 

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce holds the tension of sweet and spicy together in one experience; a both/and rather than either/or kind of experience. It engages complexity without the arrogance that one can hold the complete answer to peace, alienation, or meaning. 

Often our answer to these eternal human conundrums is wanting everyone to be like us and do it our way so the world wouldn't be so screwed up. 

This is what we theologians call the great sin of hubris (pride). Or as Annabeth explains to Percy in the Percy Jackson series, "Hubris means deadly pride, Percy. Thinking you can do things better than anyone else... Even the gods.” Great theology.

Juggling also helps with living in the mystery of complexity.
Juggling rocks with the one you love really helps.

Maybe if we can appreciate food that holds the complexities of reality in tension, then we can offer a bit more grace with the incongruities at work in our lives and communities. 

People aren't all idiots and the answers aren't that easy. If they were, Coke would have fixed us a long time ago instead of eating holes in our stomachs.

Sorry

I love the fact that the sweet Canadian girl at the visitor center in one of the provincial parks explained to me that the tunnel is the safe way to make it to Niagara Falls. The dark, scary tunnel full of rocks and a couple of signs telling you to keep out is the safest way to the trail in the park marked on the map. She also told me that I should walk on the abandoned railroad trestle high above the canyon. I asked if it was allowed and her answer was, “Everyone does it.”

Here’s what you have to love about Canada. They don’t have near the signage and idiot patrol that the US does. You won’t see a sign by the cliff warning you not to fall off the cliff. There is an assumption you will figure it out and if you don’t at least you will take responsibility and not sue them. 

Canadians don’t tend to live with the illusion there is always someone else to blame and accidents can all be prevented. Horrible accidents happen and you can go through all the what ifs that could have prevented them, but ultimately none of us make brilliant choices 100% of the time. 

I’m not opposed to warnings and safety guards, but I’m tired of them as a way of preventing lawsuits instead of increasing access and engagement with life. 

I keep two Edward Abbey quotes on my desk. He was an environmentalist as well as an anarchist so a little radical for my Midwest ways, but his quotes keeps me grounded. I love this blessing:

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. 

It is a lie to imagine we can keep or should always keep people safe. When we turn safety and comfort into essential values of our culture, then we create numb cowards who hand their freedom and responsibility over to someone else.

Our climate of litigation makes leaders who are unwilling to admit fault and communities looking for someone else to blame. 

Canadians have their own issues. It’s fun to bring up any of them just to hear them say sorry. But, being in the dark, scary tunnel and then shaking in terror on the railroad trestle were good reminders of why we need access to frightening experiences. It’s the only way to become braver. And abundant life demands courage.

Whining

Unlike the playground at the local elementary school, the summer lunch program does not operate with a lot of rules. I argue that rules are only necessary when community and relationships break down. If you haven’t been on a school playground recently, the long lists of rules are comical.

Our rules for camp, summer lunch, trips, and pretty much life are:

1. Be respectful
2. Be safe (Don’t die)
3. No whining

The third one isn’t a rule. It’s part of being safe because if I hear whining, I’m tempted to poke people in the eye.

We recently wrapped up our trip to the most "Magical Place on Earth". Maybe I’m saying that sarcastically because I do think Eagle Beach is way more magical than Disney and a heckuva lot cheaper.

There was only one rule we heard parents say on a regular basis:

NO COMPLAINING

Sometimes there was an introduction along the lines of “We spent a lot of money to be here so no complaining.” 

Our favorite parent quote on the elevator was, “Your complaining does not make my day magical.” I’m going to use that one on a regular basis.

Naturally, my brain started to wander through the difference between whining and complaining. I don’t actually poke people for complaining; poking only happens if they do it in that horrible high-pitched tone. 

Whining comes from the root word that means “to whistle through the air.”

Complaining comes from the root that means “to lament.” 

Here’s how I divide them. Whining is an annoying sound that is unhelpful. Complaining is grief at the way things are.

Complaining can be helpful.  Yes, experiences are what you make them and picking at the world around you is not always appreciated, but there are times we need to recognize pain for what it is.

There is so much pain, even in the most magical place on earth. Mind you, “I’m bored” is not a complaint. Any statement of boredom always goes into the whining column because it is your issue not the environment around you. Addendum: Unless it is me in a mall. I’m convinced that mall air is filled with microscopic dementors who suck out your soul.

But somehow faithful living seems like it needs to happen in the tension of delight and lament. 

Counseling a Jawa
after I screamed
and scared him

Being happy all the time is just weird. I’m not sure how you can do that unless your head is buried in the sand because a lot of life sucks. Also, being Debbie Downer all the time does not make one good company. 

Delight in the beauty and gifts all around; lament the suffering and our destructive ways. I loved the Star Wars firework show at Disney; I grieve the huge environmental footprint it has every single night of the year. I don't know how to fix things, but sometimes all I can do is appreciate a wonderful moment and recognize it comes with a cost. Oh, like the backstrap of a deer, most amazing meat I've ever tasted but it meant a life. We keep the hooves in with the logs in our wood pile just to keep reminding ourselves and maybe to frighten guests who we send for more wood when we have a porch party.

Anyway, never hesitate to share your pain or complaints with me. It’s a privilege to help folks carry burdens; I really do want to be a more faithful, less destructive person. But I don’t want to get wrapped up into drama or listen to a high-pitched whistle in the air because you need attention. That’s a whole different ball of yarn that might get a poke in the eye.