Disorder Above and Below

August 10, 2011 under inthenews, thehumancondition, theology

Two stories about disorder on the BBC yesterday, one in the heavens and on on earth.

The first, an earthly lament about the rioting in England. An anguished headline,

What turns people into looters?

Joe is quizzical by zimpenfish, on Flickr

Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic Licenseby  zimpenfish

What turns people into looters…

Let’s take a look at the hidden narrative in this headline.

We are not bad people, we are not looters! We get turned into them. Ordinarily we are just fine until something external comes over us. Like a prince before an evil witch, we are turned into slimy amphibians.

We have what looks from every angle like a dilemma. How can ordinary people turn into lawless ruffians over the course of five minutes? Where is the witch? What did it?

Of course, the sensible answer is that people didn’t change or turn into anything.
The sensible answer is that the same people only needed the right set of circumstances in order to behave in a new way.

That is disorder below; what about disorder above?

Well, it turns out we are managing to clutter up outer space with alarming amounts of junk. What a mess! The space junk we’re leaving up there is dangerous and it’s smashing into other junk and making more junk and it’s stopping us from putting even more would-be junk up there!

Oh dear! Whatever shall we do?

Joe is quizzical by zimpenfish, on Flickr

Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic Licenseby  zimpenfish

We’d like to get rid of it, the scientist says. But no one is building a system that can clean it up!

Why not? Well, it’s pretty simple. A system which can remove busted satellites from space can also remove non-busted satellites from space. All our governments are nasty, suspicious and afraid of the fallout of building such a system. Diplomatically, it’s unfeasible.

Why? Because they all know what they themselves would do with it, if they had the circumstances to get away with it.

We question why a little bit of social disorder causes us to take up arms against each other (we’re all such decent, ordinary folk!), but if we actually stop to take a look at ourselves, the heartbreaking truth is obvious.

We can’t even take out the trash for fear of one another.

Trust

August 8, 2011 under theology

Wherever love has been, it leaves an engraving of trust. Trust is the silhouette of love.

When I think of people I trust, the people who come to mind are the kind people; the judicious people, the caring people – the loving people. I know that they will do me good and not harm.

Am I afraid of a kind word or an unkind one?
Do I avoid people who are patient with my failings or those who are impatient?
Do I trust someone who is quickly angered?

When the apostle Paul says that perfect love casts out fear, he’s not tossing about airy fairy words – he’s describing a real dynamic of relationship. Wherever love is, trust is. Wherever love is, fear is not.

People say that a relationship needs trust, and trust is a good indicator of a healthy relationship, because it shows whether love is there. It’s easy to find where we have not previously been loved because we only need to look around and see where we refuse to trust. To suffer unlove is to be sinned against. Robbery, brutality, legalism, lusting, contempt… These are the sins that destroy all trust because they are the acts that are unloving.

Of course, to “be loved” we need to receive love. We won’t trust unless we choose to receive. When I look around and say, “I don’t trust anybody,” is there any other answer but that I have been unwilling to receive love from anyone? Is everyone else really as evil and small minded as I picture them?

I think about this when I look at God. How much does he love me? How much do I trust him? The only thing in the world that can separate me from the love of God is my own choice. And then I am not so much distant from it as ignorant of it. But ignorance is enough to build fear and mistrust. If I don’t give God permission and say, “Carve this on my heart.” my heart will remain untouched, because considerate God doesn’t touch our hearts without permission.

But when we do let him pick up his tool to engrave a picture in us, he does. His tool is love,and he engraves his own picture.

Ubi charitas et amor
Deus ibi est

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Wise Words from Warren

August 6, 2011 under curios, inthenews

A marvelous interview about the debt crisis, well worth the time to watch:

Warren Buffett is so solid! He just ignores all the hype and melodrama. The man is a rock, and he’s committed to the truth of a situation rather than the perception of it.

In a world of quick money makers who swear that perception is everything, Warren understands that the value of your credit is not set by a rating but rather by whether or not you can pay the bills on time.

If I Remember My Belt

August 5, 2011 under tongueincheek

… then my Friday morning has been a success.

I forget too often on Friday.

 As I’m on the train, or walking into work, my hand will brush against my waist. Some neuron in my brain fires (I’m pretty sure I have a dedicated belt recognition neuron) and yes, it feels wrong because my belt is. not. there.

I call them Eye Contact Fridays.

If you see me catch and hold your gaze from afar? If I approach with vim and vigor, greet you enthusiastically? Don’t look down. You’ll see me beltless. Or you’ll see the spot on my shirt.

Hold their gaze… Close the distance quickly… Big smile!

I don’t know what it is about Fridays.

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False Hopes

August 4, 2011 under personalinthepubliceye, theology

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles…  – Isaiah 40:31

Boy oh boy, If putting something on a bookmark could make it real, no Christian would ever be tired! How often have I seen this particular gem on a fridge magnet?

Sadly, what no motivational bookmark ever bothered to point out to me is that this verse is a conditional. It describes a dynamic that exists for those who hope in the Lord. It was only recently when I was thinking about the kinds of things that I hope in, when it occured to me that the “hope in the Lord” bit might actually make a difference.

Actually, what struck me most of all was how incredibly destructive false hopes are. We all have them. You know what yours are. Here are some of mine:

  • I hope all the barriers to my project at work will spontaneously vanish.
  • I hope the girl of my dreams will walk up to me and pour out her undying love for me.
  • I hope my boss will give me a big bonus, “just because”.
  • I hope I will pass my second driving road test without having to practice my parking.
  • I hope that stupid thing I did will just not have happened so I don’t have to say, “I’m sorry.”

Honestly, wouldn’t all these be fantastic? Hey, they are all fantastic – pure fantasy. (They also all involve no work on my part. Hmmm, I wonder what’s behind that…) Basically there’s a huge part of me that just wants to sit and be showered by love, wealth, comfort, prestige and fortune, without no action required from me.

The only problem is… these hopes are false. They’re not going to happen. As pleasant as it is to sit and dream about how nice things would be if they did happen, they won’t. But they’re more than just fantastic.

They’re draining.

Can I tell you what it does to my gut when my project is weeks past deadline because I was busy hoping that barriers would disappear when I should have been taking action? I don’t think I want to. But it makes me feel tired at the end of the day.

Or how it feels to be at loose ends in a lonely house, eying the telephone and wanting her to call, even though there’s no chance of it happening, because you never broke the ice? Now there’s a mean brand of neurosis not worth sharing. I’ve never seen *that* on a Christian bookmark. It’s not particuarly invigorating.

How about the boundless joys of not apologizing, and the day you realize that people are far away because you’ve been pushing them away with your own pride?

It might be most apt to say that things like these are little pockets of death that creep into my life.

Neil Anderson talks about desires and goals; things we want and things we set out to get. He talks about choosing wisely the things we set out to get, because if ever they are unattainable (“blocked goals”) we get angry, frustrated, disappointed, crushed, worn out, jaded… We shouldn’t bank on things we don’t control, on things which hinge on other people’s choices and actions.

Wanting what we can’t have is a tiring business, and picking our hopes has a massive part to play in how much bounce we keep in our bungee.

I feel a little bad because this post comes entirely from a negative direction – talking about false hopes, things I need to be rid of, little bits of death, things that drain me.

But in some way, highlighting these things is encouraging, like a trudging man looking down and seeing for the first time a ball and chain binding his ankles, and asking “How can I be free of this?”

It’s once we start seriously asking God, “How can I be free of this?” and listening to his response that things become exciting and invigorating.

Problems

August 1, 2011 under inthenews

From the BBC:

Kings Of Leon bassist Jared Followill says the band is experiencing “problems” after they postponed a gig and abandoned another this weekend.

On Friday the band failed to finish a concert in Dallas after frontman Caleb Followill, who denied being drunk, left the stage with three songs remaining.

He said: “I’m trying to sing but I haven’t got a voice, I’ve got nothing.”

Speaking to the crowd Jared said: “I don’t know what to say. It’s not our fault. It’s Caleb. He can’t play.”

When I read this I couldn’t help thinking that there really were problems in the band.

“It’s not our fault. It’s Caleb.”

Problems of themselves are not necessarily catastrophic, but they’re a whole lot nastier when we’re unwilling to share the burden of solving them. It’s funny how those two short sentences spoke volumes to me. When a band isn’t a band but is a collection of individuals, that constitutes a problem.

Because, of course, if you hang your frontman out to dry, you can hang anyone out to dry.

Authority, Heroism, Transcendence

July 27, 2011 under thehumancondition, theology

About Where the Wild Things Are, Lila writes,

“The tragedy of 21st century N.A. is the weak/seared conscience, superego, Parent–or whatever your favourite psychobabble would dictate. We suffer from too many friends and not enough heroes.”

It’s a very astute observation. (But I don’t know if it’s fair to call out a seared conscience as *the* tragedy of 21st century N.A. :-P  )

I can’t claim to have a finger on the general cultural pulse (I swim in very small circles), but I can testify that in technical arenas where people pride themselves on being “rational”, there is often a general disregard for authority.

When you deconstruct human systems from either a post-modern or naturalistic persepective, it is difficult to find a basis for any kind of real authority. Both naturalistic and postmodern views make the question, “Why should you be the boss of me?” difficult to answer.

In either world personal experience is paramount. A naturalistic approach gives very little basis for elevating anything else, and a postmodern approach confines our mandate to only being concerned with ourselves. In the one, only we exist. In the other, no one has the right to transcend. The idea that we require assistance from outside ourselves (a hero to save us) is blasphemous in either framework. Friends become important because heroes are either fictional or illegal.

Heroes hold authority. Heroes say (usually wordlessly), “You ought to be like me”, but in our one current approach there is no “ought” and in the other it is an unforgiveable sin. The film The Incredibles illustrates this sentiment nicely; in it, the initial charge brought against superheroes is, “You are just extra-strong people like us with no transcendent role or mandate. Furthermore, you are flawed and do not serve the public good, so we will sue you for the harm you cause.”

Looking back at Where the Wild Things Are, the best solution is for authority to lay down the discipline that draws the sting of wildness. This doesn’t mean wiping out exuberence (are Dads ever fun?), but it does mean directing it… and curtailing devastation. Of course, in the film’s world, no such father exists for Max, and no such king exists for the Wild Things. There’s no hero to be found.

It doesn’t make sense to me, however, to set up heroism and friendship as direct foils. In a comic-book world of super-powerful entities, the distance between a hero and a villain is a measure of compassion.

Heroes care, they are involved and present. Heroes struggle with the pain that comes from being close to injury. It hurts to bear someone else’s burden. Heroes weep for lost lives and ask, “Could I have done more?” while the villain taunts, “Why do you waste your time with the weak?”.

Does transcendence preclude friendship?
My entire faith is based on the certainty that it doesn’t.

I like turtles

July 21, 2011 under curios

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Arthur McBride – Paul Brady

July 20, 2011 under curios

I dunno that I’ve ever run across a better sung folk song.

Science Worship – Exhibit A

July 18, 2011 under theology

I like Seth Godin’s stuff but I don’t agree 100% with everything he writes.

In this post he conflates professionalism with continuous improvement, and then he conflates continuous improvement with scientific observation.

He contrasts the professional (scientific) approach with a naive one (as opposed to an ‘amateur’ one, because “money isn’t the point”). His message is that if you’re not being scientific, you’re being naive.

I don’t think his message is necessarily wrong – science is a wonderful tool towards making us productive. But it’s his conflation that struck me, because it says something about the assumptions of our day. Continuously improving means continuously getting better, and if you’ve been reading this blog recently you probably know I’m tremendously shy about any usage of the words, “good” and “better”.

Especially as they pertain to science.