Remember When It Was Cool to Be Called "Sir?"

Today my hero, Paul Hewson (a.k.a. Bono), was knighted...for real. I feel like I should throw a party! Read the Associated Press story here: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070329/ap_en_mu/people_bono_1
and a Bono bio here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bono

Daddy Helped Me

Yesterday I talked to my niece, and she told me how her three-year-old had ridden his training wheel-clad bike up a big hill, got to the top and said, "I need a rest." My niece was amazed that he could do it. We're usually amazed by her little guy, so this wasn't new.

She put him on the phone with me, and the conversation went something like this:

N: "Hi Auntie KayKay!"...
me: "I heard you rode your bike up the hill. You must be really strong; you're such a big boy!"
N: "Daddy helped me."...
me: "You're still a big boy."
N: "I love you. Bye."

I found it interesting that N. didn't try to take credit for getting up that hill. I'd have been tempted to say, "Yep! I did it!"

Life is full of big hills. Too often I think that I need to get to the top of them all by myself. At three years old, there's no shame in needing help. So I wonder why, even after Jesus says that we are to become like children, I still think I have to strive, to perform, to "fix" life's problems.

Without going into all the details of my current "hill," I will say that I believe I will get to the top of it eventually, and will surely say, like N. (pictured here), "I need a rest." But I really want, like him, to be able to say, "Daddy helped me" instead of "I did it."

On Diversity

Maybe I'm weird, but the thought that people from every tribe, language, and nation will be in heaven praising God together, as described in Revelation 7:9, gets me choked up. Today in church we sang in Spanish and then were led by one of the pastors and his wife, who are from Sierra Leone, in singing "Jabulani Africa," complete with gestures. (I love it that Africans can't sit still to worship; I have trouble not moving, too.)

If I were to show you my kindergarten class picture, you'd immediately notice that I'm one of very few white faces. When my family left Chicago for the suburbs, I didn't stick out as much, but among our neighbors were Filipino, Egyptian, Korean, and German families. That was just on our block and behind our house; and these were first generation. I remember frequently asking my friends, "How do you say that in Tagalog [or Arabic, Korean, or German]?" I guess I never thought my experience was all that unique until I got to college and met people who'd never had a friend of an ethnicity that was different from their own.

Later, living in Paris gave me great opportunities to meet and befriend people from literally everywhere. And it was in Paris that I met one of my dearest friends, who is from a country where the U.S. is currently considered archenemy #1.

Still, even with all these experiences and having many friends from backgrounds that are different from mine, I personally know the ugliness of ethnocentrism. I've gone to other countries and actually judged people because their ways seemed illogical, unbiblical, or just plain stupid to me. When my cultural values clash with another's, I am quick to defend my way of doing things simply because I've never thought of doing it any other way (and might just be afraid to discover that I could have been wrong all these years).

Paradoxically, I've trained missionaries preparing to live long-term internationally. I am well aware of how destructive and ungodly it is to hold my own culture as superior to another, but I am also aware of my propensity for sin. I know that, at times, I could be a character in Crash, a movie that I found both fascinating and disturbing in its penetrating look at the prejudice of several different people groups toward each other. Yet, by God's grace I'm increasingly open to, accepting of, and loving toward people of other cultures. Truly, His glory is revealed more powerfully when His love and unity overrule our fear and closed-heartedness.

Maybe that's why Revelation 7:9 speaks so powerfully to me; not only will we all be in heaven together, but our hearts will have been purified such that we will fully appreciate the beauty, the glory, and the richness of our diversity.

Fantasy Funeral

True confessions: I have fantasies about murdering my laptop, much like the scene in Office Space where the guys take a fax machine to an empty field and bludgeon it with a baseball bat.

This Dell Latitude D500 is the slowest thing since the invention of the Pentium processor. Even after two rebuilds, it sometimes requires multiple reboots per day, each of which takes a good 20 minutes. (Refer to my post on waiting to get an idea of just how much I enjoy spending that much time on the very thing that's supposed to increase my productivity.) Dell could have marketed this model with the line, "At least it's faster than your old 486...sometimes."

My life got better early this week when the head of our tech department responded to my pleas and agreed to replace this sloth with a Mac. The tech guys still won't let me smash this one to bits, though.

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Tom Petty had it right when he sang those words. Yet, isn't that what so much of life is about? I find that God has me in a season of waiting right now, and I don't really like it much. St. Augustine said, "The whole life of the good Christian is a holy longing. What you desire ardently, as yet you do not see." I am not a very patient person, and like most Americans of my generation, I question whether I should be entitled to get what I want when I want it.

Yet, it's not like I even have a choice to wait or not wait. I can't hasten anything by deciding that I won't wait. The choice is more like to wait or to fret. I'm not fun to be around when I fret. (Who is?) Jesus pointed out in Matthew 6 that worrying can't accomplish anything anyway.

Lately I've been writing a lot in my journal about waiting. And my journal is written in "franglais," a melange of French and English because that's how my brain thinks most of the time. The other day I wrote, "attendre" ("to wait"). I stared at the word for a couple seconds because I was struck by its possible origin. I've since done a bit of research and can't find any facts to back up my musings on its etymology. No matter; I believe that whatever the word's origin, it is true that attendre, when done in dependence on the Lord, really does "make tender." That's what I sense is happening in my heart -- an increasing tenderness toward Him and others -- as I accept His timing over mine. So while I'd love to have resolution to whatever of life's "drawn out" situations I'm in, I hope that God will mercifully keep me waiting.

Why I Like Gideon

Maybe the title is a misnomer. It could be better stated, "Why I like how God works through Gideon," but that doesn't sound very catchy. Last week I was reading in Judges. I always tune in a little more when I get to chapters 6 through 8 because I really like the story...at least the beginning, pre-idolatry part.

Israel is occupied by Midianities, apparently terrifying people. I picture them as large, sloppy, unkempt types with rotting teeth and faces stuck with an eternal scowl. So little Gideon is hiding from the big, bad Midianites, threshing wheat in a winepress. Now I don't know much about threshing wheat, but I don't think it's generally done in a winepress. Gideon is scared, so he tries to stay away from the bullies who would otherwise take his lunch.

Enter the angel of the Lord, who says to Gideon, "The Lord is with you, mighty warrior." I really don't think that Gideon looked the part. And I think that's one of the reasons I like the story. Much of the time, I don't feel very mighty or like a warrior, but as I let God define me, I see victory in great and harrowing battles. OK, so I haven't taken on the Ork or anything, but my battles are against lies I believe -- about myself, about God, about others. And lately I feel like Gideon must have felt...wowed by an amazing God. Now back to the story...

God tells Gideon that he is sending him to be the one to save Israel from Midian. Gideon incredulously replies, "How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family." Definitely not who I'd pick as a leader. God responds, as He often does, "I will be with you..." Throughout the Bible, this is what God says after telling someone, "Do not be afraid." Ahhh...His presence, our greatest comfort and our greatest weapon.

Gideon, still incredulous, keeps asking God for signs to confirm that he heard Him correctly. God has been known to rebuke people for stuff like this, "Oh you of little faith..." But it seems that because God sees Gideon's heart, He mercifully gives him signs to prove that He's going to do what He said He'd do.

So then God amasses this huge army of brave Israelite warriors around Gideon and they far outnumber the Midianites and kick their butts. That's what you'd think. That's how I would script it. But no. God seems to like looking like the underdog. And then He surprises us, using the weak things of the world to shame the strong and the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.

What God does is give Gideon instructions, and, in short, Israel's army is reduced to 300 men who are about to face a bazillion Midianites. God instructs them to attack the Midianite camp armed with clay jars with torches in them, and trumpets. Hello! Those don't usually win battles. Again, not how I would script this. But by faith, these 300 guys approach the camp and shout, "A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!" You wouldn't think this would accomplish much. But the Bible says, "And the Midianites ran, crying out as they fled." It sounds humorous, really.

The Israelites blow their trumpets, and God causes the bad guys to turn on each other with their swords. Amazing! No strategic plan, no "Big L" leader, and the weaklings win because their God is strong.

I love that! Most of the time I wonder why God would choose to use me. In the end, I'm certain it has more to do with Who He is than who I am. So now I'm off to pick up my clay jar, torch, and trumpet. Look out, Midianites!

Matt Mikalatos is a clever man.

Thanks to you, Matt Mikalatos, I am entering the 21st century. Now I can write things for all the world to see, and then I will later need to deny ever having written them.