It has been so long since I have written. The busy-ness of life has taken over. I blog some as part of my job; and, as so often is the case, job takes over. It’s amazing to me that people still find things I wrote months ago and comment; I, however, have not been a good conversationalist. Maybe I can return.

There’s a group of people walking around out there that remains somewhat anonymous until someone else joins the group. They are people who have suffered through a bout of shingles. I’m now one of them.

If shingles comes into the conversation you will know them by their simple montra — the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. It’s seven days since my first symptoms and four days sense the doctor’s diagnosis. It’s bad, really bad; but I’m not sure it’s the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Maybe I got to it quickly.

For the non-initiated I will simply say this — it’s like your skin is on fire. I lay in bed and felt my skin boiling into blisters. The aftermath are dark wounds pocking my forhead and the region around my right eye. No one can see the devastation I feel on my scalp but that is hidden from view by my hair. Fortunately, it’s all on the right side. I can scratch my left scalp and enjoy vicariously what I would like to do to the right.

Enough details. For anyone who cares, that’s why I’ve been away.

We always look for answers, but maybe we should be looking for questions. They may be more important.

For instance, we evangelical Christians tend to ask questions like, “How can a person be saved?” “Is our salvation predestined or do we have free will?” “Is the Bible inerrant?”

Then the more skeptical tend ask questions like, “Does God exist?” “How could Jesus be both God and man?” “Was Jesus really God’s son?”

I wonder if it would be better to ask questions like these, “What can I do today to connect with the reality that I cannot see?” “What can I do today to help someone else?” “What can I do today to become a better person?”

You probably noticed the repeated phrase — “what can I do”. I’ve always heard we should focus on being and the the doing will follow. I wonder if we should focus on doing and let the being follow. I don’t mean “doing” in the sense of trying to fulfill certain guilty obligations. I mean “doing” in the sense that maybe it would be good to focus on what can be done by me this day. If there’s any truth there then the “doing” is not as important as what we do.

I have spent most of my adult life as a journalist. I never felt my strength was in dancing with the English language; rather, I felt my strength was always in asking questions. I didn’t mind asking questions even if they made me look dumb. As a result, I learned things I would never have learned because people really talk when people really want to know what they have to say.

What does life have to say? Are we really asking, or are we always telling life what we want it to be?

I’m thinking out loud. Someone help me.

“Eyes must be wet or hearts will break.” — Aeschylus in “The Persians”

What have we cried over lately?

There was always something about playing tag. I felt bad for the current “it” if I didn’t get let “it” tag me. I shall be true to form and be easily tagged by Glenn.

1* What’s the most fun work you’ve ever done, and why? (two sentences max)

Being a substitute teacher when I was between jobs, because I loved being with the students and reading while they worked.

2* (a) Name one thing you did in the past that you no longer do but wish you did? (one sentence max)

I used to play adult indoor soccer with some great friends, including my wife.

(b) Name one thing you’ve always wanted to do but keep putting off? (one sentence max)

I’ve always wanted to run for public office.

3* (a) What two things would you most like to learn or be better at, and why? (two sentences max)

I would like to learn how to sail because it seems like it would be so peaceful on the water and being propelled by the wind.

I would like to learn to play the drums because I love music and I think all other instruments would be too hard to learn at my age.

(b) If you could take a class/workshop/apprentice from anyone in the world living or dead who would it be and what would you hope to learn?

It would have to be C.S. Lewis. No one has influenced my thought life more, and I have many questions I would like to ask him.

4* (a) What three words might your best friends or family use to describe you?

dependable

tired

good

(b) now list two more words that you wish described you?

courageous

humble

5* What are your top 3 passions?

family

truth / religion

politics

6. If you could change one thing about the church, what would you change?

I would tear down the buildings.

7. * Write and answer one more question that YOU would ask someone? (with answer in three sentences max)

Q: What epitath do you want written on your tombstone?

A: He loved God and people.

I tag…

Blue Treetops

Stories of Grace

I wish I had more friends, but I’m new at this.

“What if the real issue is not the authority of the text … but rather the authority of God? …”

Now Brian McLaren is challenging me, not speaking for me. I have been rather proud of stressing the authority of Scripture as opposed to those who stress its supposed inerrancy. But McLaren’s words didn’t remain a challenge long. The truth was instantly apparent.

Of course, by moving authority away from real words on real paper, belief can and will get more mushy, more pliable. Those who are personally wired to need concrete theological handles to hold onto will find this mushiness untenable. It’s much harder to “win” an argument when one views authority as resting beyond the wholly tangible.

This, my inerrantist friends would argue, is a slippery slope on which there is no solid theological footing, that relativism lies at the foot of that slope. They are probably right about the slippery slope, but what will one slide into — falsehood or truth. History is rife with people “climbing” toward the wrong goal. What if most of the Christian church has been “climbing” away from God instead of toward him.

Or to change the metaphor, what if we’ve been heading along a slope that heads downward instead of upward, that by slipping we will turn around and grab the lifeline that is being thrown to us from on high and behind. Instead of walking away from God down our own slope of comfortable religion we allow God to pull us up to him.

I’m not sure if that metaphor works. I need to think.

I end with a quote from the rest of McLaren’s paragraph in A New Kind of Christian, with Neo speaking.

“What if the issue isn’t a book that we can misinterpret with amazing creativity but rather the will of God, the intent of God, the desire of God, the wisdom of God–maybe we could say the kingdom of God?” (p. 51)

Lover of trees that I am, I encountered today what may be the beginning of a death. One of the ancient oaks on our land is no longer rich green; it is a pale green moving toward yellow. This is not a good sign in this year of drought.

Looking from the hill where we live, the neighboring hillsides, which normally are a blanket of green oaks this time of year in Texas, are dotted with the browning leaves of dying oaks. But most of the oaks on our land have avoided this water-starved death, at least until now.

This impending death or possible death comes in the midst of my personal crusade to save the ancient oaks on our land. I spend a great deal of time, possibly too much time, swinging my axe at the base of cedar trees to relieve the land of this water-absourbing parasite of a tree.

One web site calls the cedar the plague of trees. They come into places where they are not native, rapidly spread, and choke out other plants. A mature cedar drinks about 32 gallons of water a day. Unbelieveable.

In a year of drought, that means every cedar is robbing much-needed water from the sturdy hardwood oaks that take so long to grow. As I look at those yellowing leaves, I fear that a 90-year-old life is coming to an end. That’s sad.

I can’t cut down cedar trees fast enough. Pray for rain.

Yesterday, I said something about the value of writing things down, basically that it helps you think. After I thought about it more I saw some of my stupidity. The error I made is in equating aging with understanding. I disparaged the wisdom of those in their 20s. I should have disparaged the wisdom of those in their 50s, like me, as well.

I work with some amazing people who happen to be in their 20s. Sometimes they surprise me with what they do not know; but at other times they surprise me with what they know. They know some things much earlier in life than I learned them.

But beyond knowing, those twentysomethings bring a real energy and excitement to life that is good for a fiftysomething guy. I love being with them, talking with them, thinking with them, working with them. I would hate to hang around only with people like me.

I’m going to leave up yesterday’s posting for two reasons. First, because there is some truth mixed in with the error. Second, it stands as a monument of sorts to my own need to continue learning and challenging my thoughts. I guess a third reason could be that if any of my twentysomething friends read yesterday’s post then I can always point them to this one and the confession of my error.