Wisdom in Laundromats

I typically don’t think of laundromats as places where I might gain a richer and deeper perspective on life.

The other night I was doing laundry.  Except for the janitors performing their nightly ritual, the place was empty.  One of the particularly outgoing janitors decided to strike up a conversation—“conversation” isn’t quite the right word, “monologue” is probably more accurate.  Having my face buried in a book must not have been much of a deterrent for Mr. P. who helped himself to my attention taking the opportunity to tell me all sorts of random life stories.

This kind of thing can be annoying; no matter how many times you say, “uh-huh,” the stream of consciousness just keeps flowing like the Amazon.

But as I stopped simply hearing and started actually listening, “uh-huh’s” gave way to questions and disinterest morphed into fascination (though listening was a challenge—after cutting through his un-annunciated speech, I probably only understood between 60% and 70% of what he said).

He elaborated on Williamsburg’s past, on some of the darker aspects of the city’s social dynamics, and he reflected on some of the decisions that he had made during the course of his life, some good, some bad, some serious, and some hilarious.  I realized that even inarticulate laundromat janitors have a corner on wisdom, if you have the patience and the willingness to hear them out.

Apparently the balcony of one of the apartment buildings near where I live recently collapsed.  Mr. P. told me that he had warned management about a growing fissure in the concrete for over a year.  He warned them that the balcony would eventually collapse, and that it needed to be repaired, or at least roped off so that no one would be hurt or killed.  Even though he had been in the concrete business for much of his life, his warnings fell on deaf ears.  Who would believe a lowly janitor who could barely pronounce his words?  No one was harmed by the collapse, but people could have been seriously injured, or worse, all because of the reckless negligence of someone who “knew better.”

As an attorney, someday I’ll be in a loftier position as one of the higher-ups.  I’ll have my liberal arts education with my Juris Doctorate, and I’ll probably have less educated, simpler folk working beneath me.  And ultimately I hope that I’ll be the kind of person who listens to the laundromat guy.

Stuffed Animals and Law

This year I have been working in the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center book store where I assist customers in purchasing edification.  Because of scheduling needs, there are some days that I work in the gift shop instead. 

The gift shop has all sorts of trinkets and whirligigs and knick-knacks, ceramic dishes, ornaments, smelly soaps and the like.  I much prefer to sell customers sources of edification and knowledge in the bookstore than I do to sell customers dishes and smelly soaps in the gift shop.

I can’t help but wonder if these purchases are really necessary, that maybe this money could be used to educate some child in an inner-city community or feed a hungry mouth in a third-world country.  Though, I do recognize that if it were not for the dishes and smelly soaps, there wouldn’t be a Colonial Williamsburg and many more people would be unemployed (maybe myself?) and people wouldn’t be able to enjoy this rich national historic treasure.  So smelly soaps it is, I guess.

Part of working in the gift shop entails making sure the sale floor is stocked and orderly (the more obsessive compulsive, the better!).  And among the first things I do is to make sure that my fuzzy little stuffed animal friends are looking good—friends like Sally the Sheep and Prince the Dog, which is creepily modeled off of a dead dog carcass from the early 1900’s.

This all harkens back to my childhood.  My bedroom was filled with furry friends.  In fact, there was a time that there was barely enough room in my bed for me!

Every child dreams about what he wants to do for a career when he grows up.  Somewhere between physicist and pharmacist, I wanted to be a stuffed animal maker and have my own stuffed animal shop.

I ultimately decided on Law, but it was a close choice.

Our Great Curse and Our Greater Blessing

Lifted and edited from a discussion thread on Facebook.  Alexander, a non-believer, had some genuinely honest yet tough questions of the God in which Christians believe.  As best as I could, I tried to give him some genuinely honest answers.

Alexander,

I appreciate your honesty.  I appreciate that you ask tough questions, big questions, important questions.  There are many of my fellow Christians who I wish would do the same.  I hope you will join me as I muse over some of the points you made.  They are very interesting.

The notion of original sin is deeply thought provoking.  Is a newborn baby guilty of some immoral act?  Is such a baby somehow deserving of a metaphysical death sentence?  Such notions seem to clash against our sense of innate justice and fairness.  I think you are right in that observation.  But I think that original sin is far deeper than an intrinsic status of moral guilt.  Original sin is the accursed state, the state of brokenness, into which we are all born.  We live in a broken world--few would deny that, one of pain, and suffering, and death.  No baby is evil, but every baby enters a world weighted down by an evil burden, this curse.

But why this curse?  You point out that it is hard to believe that everyone is born in the image of God, even the mass murderers, pedophiles, psychopaths, dictators, and rapists.  If we were not made in the image of God, then the curse of our world wouldn't seem that alarming or disturbing.  But since we are made in the image of God, that's what makes this curse seem so striking, so unfair.  What did we do to deserve this?  This curse seems to be connected with our being made in God's image, and yet being separated from our creator.

At this point many Christians would point out that God gave Man a free choice, and choosing to sin is what Man did with it and that it's ultimately Man's fault, but God is going to save us anyway.  You probably find this explanation to be a bit of a cop-out and rather disingenuous.  In fact, you say that this "exonerates God for any responsibility..."  You probably find this explanation unsatisfying and hard to believe.

And I agree with you.  And I am a Jesus following, God believing, Christian.  

In the Garden of Eden story, yes Adam and Eve choose to eat the fruit and accept the serpent's suggestion, but God is the one who puts the forbidden tree smack dab in the middle of the garden, kind of like a mother who puts the cookie jar right in front of the child and tells the child not to eat.  Even if we assume that God HAD to put the tree in the garden in order for Adam and Eve to genuinely have free will, did God have to allow the serpent (Satan) into the garden to tempt them?  Surely an omniscient and omnipotent God could have foreseen and prevented this.  Even if the tree's presence is needed for Man to genuinely have free will, to give him an opportunity to obey or disobey, Satan's presence is not.  Allowing the serpent in the garden is a needless provocation.  And God knows that Man is but dust, he knows his frame, and his predispositions.  It certainly seems that God is setting Man up to fall.

I believe in an omnipotent and omniscient God, which means that this God knew of the horrible curse that his frail, dust-like creatures would fall into, and God had the power to prevent it.  He did not.  And the ultimate question...is why?  Can this God possibly be good?

I see the history of our world—of us—as a giant narrative arc.  And the theme that stands out to me is the theme of redemption, but more than that, the theme of love.  Without the curse, there is no need for redemption.  Without the need for redemption, there is no Jesus coming into the world to die for us.  And that makes the curse of original sin a necessary and integral part of the grand story.  God Incarnate enters into this curse as a newborn baby, suffers because of this curse , and dies on a Roman cross as a result of this curse.  Without this, we don't see how much God actually loves us. 

Some Christians think of Jesus as God's plan B-- God creates this good world, Man sins, God says "darn it!  wait...I know...I'll send Jesus to die and that will undo what Man did."  I don't see Jesus as Plan B; I see Jesus as Plan A, from the foundation of the world, from the beginning of time, because God planned for that to be how He would show is love for us. 

Jesus.  Love-in-the-Flesh.  Most gods in the world's religions expect their devotees to cower before them groveling.  They expect sacrifices.  They judge you based on how good or bad you are.  But this God washes the dirty feet of those whom he created.  This God sends his own son as the sacrifice.  This God, in the ultimate act of humility dies for us.  He says of the curse, "It is finished, paid in full."

That is the God for me.  That is the God I love.

What Joy!

One of the most joyous days of my life was the day I beat my Dad’s high school 3,200m track record.  For decades that record stood untouched, and many solid, relentless runners attempted the feat, but my Dad’s mark was always left standing.  What is so intriguing is that for most of those 37 years, my Dad was Coldwater’s track coach, and he was the one training his own athletes to break his own record (cynics would snicker at the possibility that my Dad held back on training these athletes so that they wouldn’t break his record, but he was too invested in his athletes to pull a stunt like that).  Yet with all his effort, he could not raise up an athlete to match his own endeavor.

Until the Three Rivers Invitational in 2005 when the last of his sons was to make his attempt.  We both knew what the agenda was: he had coached me for this moment, I had trained for this moment, I was to attack the race from the outset running alone in a rather uncompetitive field of runners.

In my excitement I started out aggressively—perhaps a bit too fast to be sustainable.  I started to wonder whether I had made a mistake, whether I should let up a bit in order to compensate, but my Dad was right there to assure me that everything was fine and to encourage me to keep the fast pace.  It never crossed my Dad’s mind to give me bad advice, even at this late hour.  Toward the end of the race, everyone knew that I was feeling as strong as ever, a historic feat was now inevitable.

After crossing the tape and catching my breath, I found my Dad on the track.  I do not remember what was said; all I remember was our big hug.

For me, I had finally taken down the old man’s record, the most daunting of all the Coldwater track records I would break.  And for my Dad, he had finally trained an athlete to break his mark, and of all those athletes, he had the honor of passing that record to his son.

Some people in his shoes might be spiteful, jealous, possessive, but my father was filled with joy.  While I was surely happy with my achievement, the joy I felt had much more to do with seeing my father’s joy and being filled myself as a consequence.

Joy is often a selfless, infectious emotion.  It can spring up on its own, but when we can share it with others, it spreads like wildfire.

Toward the end of Isaiah, the prophet speaking of God’s future redeemed children, says, “the Lord delights in you,” and later, “God will rejoice over you” (Isa 62:4, 5).  In light of Christ’s work on the cross, my God sees me as His perfect creation.  The Lord delights in me; the Lord rejoices over me!  What a blessing to know this.

What joy!

Mr. T, Please Take the Wheel

I am fairly even-keel when it comes to my emotions.  I have a thick skin (having three older brothers will do that), and it is difficult to make me angry. 

Distance running tends to be relaxing.  With the release of endorphins in the brain that aerobic exercise generates, it is a great way to de-stress and to temper negative emotions.

So I find it ironic that I often become most riled and angry during long, extended runs—selfish, irresponsible, and sometimes downright malicious drivers: Thank you very much!

It annoys me when, as a pedestrian patiently waiting to cross the street, I wait for an oncoming car to pass, only to see the car suddenly make a turn before it reaches me.  Had the driver used a blinker, he would have alerted me to his intentions allowing me to cross the street.  But no—no blinker—so now I have to wait for the giant, continuous stream of traffic from the other direction to pass by before I can attempt to cross the street again.  The use of a blinker is not to let yourself know what you are about to do as a driver, it is to let everyone else know.  Such is the selfish driver.

It frustrates me when drivers turning right into traffic only look left, ignoring the possibility of a pedestrian to the right who may be entering the crosswalk.  Then they lurch forward almost hitting you with a deer-in-the-headlights expression as though to say, “Hey, you just jumped out in front of me from nowhere!”  And I give a stern glare as though to say, “No, I ‘jumped’ out in front of you from your right, a direction in which, in your negligence, you failed to look!”   Such is the irresponsible driver.

And then there is the malicious driver.  This is the type who, on a wide, sparsely traveled country road driving toward you (you as a pedestrian are running on the left-hand side of the road like you are supposed to), rather than accommodating for your presence by nudging the centerline a bit or even remaining in the neutral position within his lane, instead this driver upon seeing you swings all the way over to the edge, grinding the shoulder of the road as he sends his giant murder-machine barreling toward you in an unconscionably inhumane game of chicken.

It is in moments like these that my emotions boil over in rage.  I usually feel that mine is a righteous anger, that I am entitled to be angry, and if given enough warning, to throw rocks at the car or something.  Then I wonder if I really have the mind of Christ in these situations.  What would distance-runner Jesus do?

I guess I’m not totally sure, but recently after yet another frustrating run of playing hop-scotch with terrible drivers, I ran past a man waiting at a bus stop who looked just like Mr. T.  As I went galloping by, a big, beaming grin spread across this man’s face as he started pumping his arm back and forth as if to say, “Rock on, little dude!”

“Mr. T” was the perfect antidote to my mounting frustration.  Perhaps this man can’t afford to own or drive a car of his own, but O that the streets of America were filled with drivers like him.

The Wind of Heaven

For several years now I have tried to learn to trust in God’s provision.  Of course, for most of my life I have had very few unmet needs, or even wants for that matter.  But I have had a few needs the last few years that I found were in many ways genuinely out of my control.  I faced significant athletic injuries in college that I never faced in high school—injuries that often recurred and took eons to heal.  Most recently I have spent months preparing for the LSAT, which I take this Saturday.  I can dutifully spend all the time in the world preparing, but I’ve found that on an annoyingly large number of occasions my brain has just not absorbed certain mechanics of the test.

And I wonder, what if I don’t heal?  What if I don’t fully comprehend grouping logic games by test day?  What if I don’t get the score I need for my dreams to come true?  Can I trust in God’s provision?

In moments like these I have mired myself in the rut of self pity hoping that God will pull through (and forgetting all the times He already has), but otherwise feeling like I’m helplessly in free fall just waiting for God to catch me.

I was feeling this way several weeks ago when it suddenly struck me afresh that I am a child of the Most High God, that I can approach the throne of grace boldly, and that I am already more than blessed. 

I’ve been reading through Isaiah lately (so good!), and one of my favorite parts is Chapter 40.  Near the end, the prophet declares, “They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”  What you don’t see in these images is the wind.  The wind lifts the eagle’s wings; the wind fills the runner’s lungs.  So often we don’t notice the power that would lift us if we would just flap our wings or if we would just breathe deeply.

I don’t need to be drug through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.  I can walk.  In fact I can mount up and soar like the eagle because the Lord is the wind beneath my wings.

I’m flying into the dawn of a glorious future.  It’s mine for the taking!  So, LSAT shmelsat!

The Hardest Prayer

“Not as I will, but as You will.” 

I think that has to be the hardest prayer to sincerely pray.

This is the prayer that Jesus repeats over and over again in the garden the night before He is to endure the agony of torture and crucifixion.  The Gospel writers tell us that at such an hour of turmoil, He was “sorrowful, even to death,” which is often a colloquialism for “suicidal,” (which is why He asked His friends to watch and pray with Him.  It’s never good to be alone when you’re suicidal).  That would explain why He was sweating droplets of blood (called hematohidrosis, a medical condition brought about from severe anguish).  And as God-in-the-flesh, He surely had options:  run away, call fourth a host of angels to save Him (that was Satan’s idea for Jesus while He was in the wilderness).

No.  “Not as I will, but as You will.”

I usually find it hard to pray this prayer while eating my morning bowl of cereal before starting the day, let alone while awaiting an impending crucifixion.  It’s so antithetical to the very way we’re wired.  The biological principle of natural selection posits that all life on this Earth—animal, plant, bacteria cell—all life has a self-interested impulse to out-muscle the competition to reach higher than your fellow fir trees lest they soak up the sunlight and you don’t, to find that wildebeest before the other lions do lest they eat and you starve.  Survival and self-interest and control are programmed into our genes.

“Not as I will, but as You will.”

Not to make a gross generalization, but I think the essence of the journey of faith to the New Jerusalem is learning not just to pray this prayer, but to fully mean it as well, to trust that at the very foundation of the cosmos is a powerful, loving, good God and that His way is ultimately better than any set of plans I could devise.  It is then that I am living the full life.

But first it starts with a prayer…

The People You Find in Warehouses

I have had my share of menial jobs while in college:  janitor, McDonalds….My latest stint of menial labor helping do inventory for Colonial Williamsburg during which I endlessly counted and recounted wing-dings, jib-jabs, and knick-knacks.  I always take a moment, or several, to appreciate the seeming irony of a William & Mary student making fries for hours on end or cleaning up trash.  Then there are my share of existential moments during which I consider how the entire cause-and-effect trajectory of my life somehow led up to this moment in which I am cleaning urine splatters off of a McToilet.

While working these various menial jobs, I also can’t help but consider the people working along side of me.  I usually consider that I am just passing through and that I have a bright beaming future ahead of me, but for these co-workers, this is their career—THIS is their future.  And I usually consider why this is the case: I worked hard in school, they did not work as hard, I had an aptitude for intellectual rigors, they did not, etc.

Not very humble, I know.  And I realize this, and I am aware of these thoughts, but I can’t un-think them.  That would be like trying to un-ring a bell or not thinking of a boat after someone said, “don’t think about a boat.”  As is my nature, I do my utmost to be kind and respectful and humble.  But I can’t seem to un-feel the feeling that in some way, I am higher than these people.

I recently worked in a warehouse doing inventory along side an older man, in his late 50’s I suspect, gray haired, thick glasses, wearing a drab-gray jacket, and always stuttering when trying to speak.  And off my preconceptions went again…

Only to discover days later that this man is actually an excellent internal medicine doctor who grew tired of practicing medicine and enjoys the simplicity of working in a warehouse during his elder years.  Apparently I wasn’t smarter or more informed or “higher” than this man at all.  This man could blow me out of the water.

So much for our perceptions.  Jesus wasn’t what 1^st Century people were expecting either.  I think that’s God’s way of doing things and showing us how astute our analyses and assessments really are.

And I don’t think we decide to be humble, as though we flip a light switch on or off.  No, we learn to be humble every time some unimpressive warehouse worker turns out to be a brilliant doctor, and turns our preconceptions upside down.

Why I Started This Blog

This fall, I will be joining the Capital Fellows Program through McLean Presbyterian Church in the Washington D.C. area.  This program is basically a Christian leadership development program for aspiring young professionals.  As someone who has long sought to be an attorney, before I start law school, this fellowship should be the perfect opportunity for me to learn what it means to be a servant in God’s kingdom as I pursue the field of law.

From September 2011 through May 2012, I will spend part of each week doing a professional internship in D.C, part of the week taking classes through Reformed Theological Seminary and attending periodic conferences and seminars, and part of the week contributing to the mission of service both inside and outside the vibrant McLean Presbyterian community.  I will gain a deeper insight of fellowship both as older Christian leaders mentor me and as I get the chance to pour my energy into the church youth.  I will even join another household for a year, as a family graciously and sacrificially welcomes me into their home to help mitigate my costs.  A friend of mine who was part of the program last year likened this whole experience to “spiritual boot camp.”

We are each entrusted to raise $6,300 for the program which will cover expenses including text books, conferences, seminary classes, etc.—everything not donated by the church (This is a flat budget program – McLean Presbyterian does not profit from it).  Of course, at this point in my life in which I already have educational debts and limited income, the costs of this fellowship plus the car I will need to commute each day amount to my first real substantial financial hurdle in life.

In an individualistic society like ours, so often we think that whether we succeed or fail is entirely a matter of our own effort, our own initiative, our own resources, our own strength.  While I have always been self-driven in my endeavors, I am humbled to realize that my loving community is what has truly made me who I am and lifted me up so that I might stand tall (and we all know that I need all the help I can get when it comes to standing tall!).

I will continue to need the loving support of my friends and family whether financially or in prayer, and perhaps in both.  Pray that as I pursue this endeavor, that I might grow in the spirit, know God ever more, and learn to be part of the mission of being a light in a dark world.  I’m learning to believe ever more in a God that can move mountains, and I hope that you will lift me up in your prayers, that the great Potter would continue to mold this lump of clay into what he has purposed for it to be.

If you can and would like to offer financial support via a one-time gift or a pledge of continued gifts during the year, know that all gifts are tax deductible and should be made out to McLean Presbyterian Church with “Fellows Program” on the memo line, including a cover note with your name and my name.  Gifts can be mailed to:

McLean Presbyterian Church

1020 Balls Hill Road

McLean, VA 22101

Attn: Fellows

This blog is for my friends and family who wish to join me in my journey.  I will blog several times each month leading up to the program start date, and starting in September I will blog two or three times a week sharing my thoughts and reflections on my Fellows experience, my faith, and my life.  And in the words of the twentieth psalm, “May God give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed!”

Candy Land and LSATs

A month ago my mother challenged a four-year-old boy to a game of Candy Land.  Little Matthew pulled a big upset.  (My mother doesn’t take defeat very well.  While we brothers were growing up, she was ruthless at board games—no wonder we turned out the way we did.  She says she wanted us to be hungry)  My mother proceeded to hound Matthew for a rematch, and he, wanting to remain undefeated, resisted her challenges.  Finally after much “persuasion,” Matthew relented.  It is said that the rematch was an on-the-edge-of-your-seat nail-biter.  After an early-game controversy over who was entitled to go first and a late-game instant replay review, Matthew had won again.  I’m betting my mother’s response was similar to that of Darth Vader at the end of Star Wars, Episode III.

If there is a game entirely devoid of skill, strategy, or brains, it is Candy Land.  It is a game in which two people move a token around the game board by drawing a card each turn.  The card determines where you move.  In fact, once the cards are shuffled and it is decided who gets to go first, it is logically predetermined at the outset what the outcome will be.  Players really aren’t competing to win, they are merely finding out who won before the game started.  Post-game victory celebration would be like gloating over someone because you beat them in a coin toss.  Impressive!

So much is determined by a single card shuffle.

With just under a month to go until the formidable LSAT, I realize that this will have been the hardest test that I will have yet taken.  So many tricks and twists and brain benders.  I expect that I will be ready, but boy progress is frustratingly slow.

Your LSAT score basically figures as half the weight of your application for law school.  The other half of your application is your entire seventeen-year academic development and achievement from kindergarten through the end of college.  23 years of my life, and one day of my life.  A single test.  This will affect which school I get into, whether I get any merit scholarships, maybe who I will marry…

So much is determined by a single number.