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. 

Nationals

I'm in Orlando. 

I'm sure there are happy people who live here in the magic of Disney, but it is not in my comfort zone. I am happy to be with daughter #2 at the National USA Jump Rope Championship. I never get to chaperone secular trips so this is kind of fun to just be a mom and not a pastor or overly responsible adult. 

I am realizing in these first 36 hours with only two hours of sleep that I have huge gaps of talent.

Things outside my skill set:

• Heat
• Braiding hair on a moving bus
• Standing in line without whining or singing 80s songs
• Sleeping in hotel rooms (even though the hotel room was a welcome relief to the five hours spent in the playroom in the lobby at the Disney Resort). I've given up on germ issues and just wallow in public bathrooms now.
• Heat
• Sitting next to a ten year old on a six hour flight who chomped his gum and kicked me the entire time. Around 2:00 am I believe I might have stared at him with some disdain because he curled up closer to his mother.
• Watching Men In Black 3 without weeping through the whole thing because I know in the end his dad dies. Maybe that's why the kid kept kicking me on the plane.
• Heat
• Sitting still and waiting for something to happen
• Following directions
• Listening to Mickey Mouse's voice in the playroom for five hours while trying to sleep without screaming or punching the screen.

Coping skills:

Coffee: I packed a coffee maker and 24 oz. of ground coffee. I think this will see me through the trip. It might be an addiction, but it keeps me from punching Mickey.

Sleep: I know the power of naps. I also know that I have to bring my own sleeping pad, pillow, and sleeping bag. I'm a freak, but I've figured out how to sleep as a freak.

Humor: I'm so slap happy that I'm laughing at pretty much everything that comes my way. It's a little disturbing for the people around me, but that keeps them questioning my sanity.

Mr. Potato Head and 80s songs: We're staying at Pop Century Resort, which has gigantic icons from each decade peppering the lawn. We're sleeping in the 80s section so Ah-ha, Men at Work, Wham, Cyndi Lauper, and all the other greats are playing on loudspeakers a regular basis. It prepares me well for the line standing. 

There is a huge Mr. And Mrs. Potato Head in the middle courtyard. They are fabulous, but I knew I was getting loopy when I caught myself talking to them. Then I realized how comforting I found their presence. Then I started to think about what a fascinating image for God Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head could be. Then I went to my room and got my two hours of sleep.

Skee ball: What can't be fixed with skee ball? Way cheaper than therapy and available in our hotel for only a small fee.

Perspective: I get to step out of all the other roles in my life that consume me and be a mom to just one child and a goofball to several others. It's a huge gift even with heat and a heightened awareness of alligators.

Responsibility

I'm learning a slew of crazy history reading about how Wonder Woman was born. The development of the polygraph test, the fight for women's right to vote, and the campaign for sex ed and birth control are all woven together in her story. 

I knew women were arrested for protesting for the right to vote, but I had no idea the persecution of women who tried to teach other women how not to have children. 

A hundred years ago, it was illegal to tell a woman how to prevent pregnancy. 

That kind of blows my mind. It also raises my blood pressure  as Alaska tries to put restrictions on teaching youth about sex. Knowledge does not make people run out and engage risky behavior; it actually allows us to make choices.

I'm thankful for knowing how to prevent pregnancy, but I also grieve that eugenics came as part of the birth control package. Some of the most progressive and liberal folks started to advocate for a better society through selective breeding. I can't help but wonder with all the research into DNA and genetic makeup whether we saddle new couples with too much information about how their children might be and engage a new kind of eugenics.

So eugenics sounded like a good idea in theory. I like the idea of breeding out whining or talking on cell phones in public bathrooms. And like most good ideas it turned into a way of brutalizing people. 

Helpful hint: Always suspect ideas proposed by those with power to take responsibility for and fix those we consider a mess. 

My brother and I illustrate well why eugenics doesn't work in practice either. We have the same genetic material and we are radically different, but my folks love us both. We play very different roles in society. My brother fixes computers and frightens workers into not opening attachments. I have a job that produces good conversation, but not a lot of measurable outcome. We approach the world in contrasting ways and there are times I think about fixing him.

Then I remember this great story in the Bible about brothers. Cain and Abel go for a walk and only Cain comes back. Another helpful hint: If your sibling asks you to go for a walk in the Bible, it doesn't turn out well.

Cain kills Abel out of jealousy, out of trying to make himself right, out of boredom. Who knows. It seems pretty drastic, but RISK almost brought Mike and I to that point more than once. The part of the story that sticks out is when God is questioning Cain and Cain responds with "Am I my brother's keeper?" 

He just killed his brother. The irony is pretty thick and God gets it, but not us. We pull out this line and make it a motto. Good Christian folks think "keeping our brothers" is a righteous thing.

It's not. We are never called to keep people, we are called to love them. Taking responsibility for people, unless they truly are incapable, is not Jesus' call to us. The definition of responsibility is: the state or fact of having a duty to deal with something or of having control over someone.

That's a far cry from love. It's control and as fun as control is, I'm pretty sure it's not a fruit of the spirit.

We've had lots of children come through so far this summer with the lunches and they all seem like such good little projects to get working on. But then I remember people aren't projects.

I had a line in my last sermon about the demoniac at Gerasene that I thought was brilliant.  

Demons make us see other people as tools for our pleasure or problems to fix or pests to ignore instead of mysteries to encounter and love.

Brilliant moments are rare this summer so I have to hold onto them. 

I'm not responsible. 

I'm not my brother's keeper. 

I'm called to encounter and love the mystery in my brothers and sisters.

Rain

I love rain.

That's why I live in a rainforest.

We have many words for rain in Southeast Alaska, but my favorite kind of rain is a soft drizzle. I enjoy sunny days greatly and downpours are thrilling, but a gentle mist is when my soul is most at rest.

I thought about doing a top ten list of why I love rain and then I realized lists are silly and only useful in the morning when I'm organizing my day.

So these are just my ramblings about why rain is a delight:

I'm allergic to the sun.
This is probably a big one. I break out in a rash, get sick to my stomach and a horrible headache when I get too much sun. It made for awesome family trips to Florida where I got to wear long sleeves, pants and a hat. My eldest inherited this fabulous gift from me.

The best songs involve rain.
All my favorite songs either involve rain or coffee.

• Robert Earl Keen Not a Drop of Rain  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlsBiAIQ3jM
• Andrew Duhon  It's Gonna Take a Little Rain  https://vimeo.com/37927947
• Dar Williams The Beauty of the Rain  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRoOqKf7uds
• Lyle Lovett If You Were to Wake Up https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITgB8vcuIlE

I love Kierkegaard
The Danish theologian Kierkegaard had issues and I'm way oversimplifying his theology of despair, but I'll do it anyway. Kierkegaard talks about the despair of possibility and the despair of impossibility. There is the paralysis of too much opportunity and the paralysis of no choices.

I feel like sunny days are slightly despairing. They offer too much. I feel torn between a million things that I want to do so I suck all there is out of the day. My crabbiest days tend to be the sunny ones. I will also admit that weeks of being socked in with the clouds can lead one to despair, but at least you can curl up with a good book.

A day of drizzle is a fine tension of opportunity and limits. The day does not expect too much out of me but still offers a loveliness that should be explored and enjoyed.

Drizzle keeps life in perspective
Sunny days throw everything out of perspective. The breathtaking beauty still catches me off guard and leaves me speechless, but it doesn't seem fair to have such amazing grandeur when there is so much horrific sorrow in the world.

A day of drizzle allows me to hold the sorrow of the slaying in Orlando in my heart along with the beauty and joy of life. It keeps the paradox of existence balanced without allowing me to slide too far in one direction.

There is grief and joy wound up together in life and nothing captures that better than a good day of drizzle where the mountain caps peek out of the clouds modestly and the tiny wildflowers stand humbly with drops of rain on their leaves.

Rain settles the dust
I would bottle the smell of rain if I could. It's my favorite scent as the earth is settled and the dust vanquished.

I love rain.

Not as much as my chicken, who I continue to
cuddle even though she is huge, but still a great deal. I appreciate the sun, but it's the rain that keeps me sane.

Jobs

So one of my most charming traits, besides my ability to fart with my hands, juggle everything that stands still, and yell at my children in German, is my talent finding worth in folks and work for folks.

The people around me might not find it that charming because it normally means I will ask them to do a task, but I only ask because I love them and think they can. 

I realized my propensity to find work for everyone today when I tried to put Donna Walker's bodyguard to work. Mrs. Walker is a delightful woman and the wife of our governor. She loved hanging out with the children, who knew bodyguards didn't do that?

 I asked him a few questions about what he liked to do and he was pretty vague answering. Then I suggested several fabulous tasks, like, asking the youth questions, or helping in the reading room, or working with the garden. 

He gave me a look. 

That's when it finally clicked. He has a job and working in the garden with children is not part of it.

When we went to Cuba moons ago, I will never forget visiting a senior home where an aged revolutionary stood in the middle of the garden with a carrot held high saying, "As long as I can, I will work and give back to my country, my people." 

One of the problems I see with so many of the work requirements in peoples' brains and in public assistance systems, is we want to see people work, but we don't do anything to help folks feel like they matter and they are worth anything. We don't do a good job as a community investing in folks so they in turn feel invested in the community.

We dismiss people and think we are doing a favor by relieving them of work. We demean folks and demand work that often leaves people more disconnected from family and community.

I know that tying our sense of worth and work together can be destructive, but I also think there is a basic fusion where we find meaning in our work and to find work we need to feel like we have meaning. 

There are few folks who participate in life at our church without participating in the mission and work of the congregation. To steal Nadia Bolz-Weber's description of a healthy church, I really do believe we are a "community of producers instead of consumers."

That's a huge leap for a church or anyone in a community. We change from "what will you give me or do for me" into offering what we have and trusting the folks around us to do the same. 

I love summer lunch. It's exhausting and hard work for lots of folks, but forming relationships, filling a need, seeing kids and families pitch in to also help and own the program makes life a bit more meaningful and rich. 

So if you don't want to feel meaningful or get put to work, and if you want to be around me, you better learn to juggle because I can be easily distracted too.