BECOMING GENUINE DAILY

"Double Dare"

"You call it madness, but I call it love."
--Don Byas

"If love is the answer could you rephrase the question?"
--Lily Tomlin

I rarely watch the Super Bowl for the game play; while I choose a team to cheer for victory, my focus is held by the advertisements. And I'm concluding this intrigue is filtered through my education (marketing) and the energy (money) companies put into understanding my mind, the hope I will release my dollar for the products they are placing in the marketplace. Oddly enough, Super Bowl ads focus on existing products, not new creations. Budweiser, Coca-Cola, Fed Ex and GMC remind consumers they have money to spend on humor, for this is the hallmark of clever ads. Pepsi succeeded this year with a song tribute for Diet Pepsi Max. Everyone in the commercial moved his or her head to a classic 1993 one hit wonder by Haddaway: "What is Love?" If you fail to understand the context of this ad, continue reading this meditation after you rent "A Night at the Roxbury" (1998), directed by John Fortenberry. When I start pondering this song, I wonder why the answer to the title is a repeated phrase in the chorus: "don't hurt me." Another tune regarding this idea comes to mind too: "Where is the Love?" by the Black Eyed Peas. In short, this song outlines the same idea; love is revealed when hurt is eliminated.

How much impact does this idea convey though? How much does it lack? True, love is visible when people stop bruising one another; however, it is only one turn of the prism. Love is deeply complex and requires a lifetime of understanding. Easter concluded this past weekend, the day numerous people acknowledge the rise of Jesus from death, the love one is willing to share for the sake of another. Jesus notes this principle in his teaching, putting it this way: good love is dying for your friends. It is rare to unearth stories on this idea, but they exist. I discovered a story this morning from the BBC News on Lance Corporal Matt Croucher, a Royal Marine who fell on a grenade to save the lives of his squad; joyously, he survived with only shock and a bloody nose. He is currently being considered for the Victoria Cross by the Ministry of Defence. It is rare to find one's self in this position, but if this teaching is expanded, can life be depleted for others without physical death? I'm always anxious before the procedure, but giving blood comes to mind. The need seems endless, but every drop counts. Organ donors are another example of this principle: giving oneself away for the sake of others.

The crux concerning this principle is unfortunate though. Distrust lives in generosity between people, the unacknowledged belief measures of goodwill are always accompanied by ulterior motives, financial exchange, even revenge masked by a smile. And this caution is ratcheted up in terms of spiritual discourse, truly in the West. This caution is created by people who follow Jesus with the purpose of "selling" his tenets through eternal salvation. He is a commodity. Terms including "witness" and "testimony" are included in this way of life. But is revision needed? The more I understand and study this idea, the further I watch it crumble. Students of Jesus live by action, not words. When generosity is extended, recipients notice. And when compensation is not required, they puzzle in question. They begin to ask questions, the curiosity quickly rising. And authentic dialogue occurs, a dialogue which doesn't dwell exclusively on life after death, but the recognition a full and purposeful life exists this day, this moment.

Love is indeed sacrifice, unselfish giving with no clear, measurable, objective, reasonable rate of return. It is possible it will be downplayed or discarded, the subject of criticism. In the Scriptures, writers outline a story concerning Jesus and his interaction in a home. Enjoying dinner, a "sinful" woman comes into the home and pours expensive perfume on his feet. The disciples are alarmed with this display, thinking of the greater good. This is the sentiment: "This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor." Notice the unusual reply of Jesus though: "The poor you will always have with you." The rate of return for this exercise is zero. It is scandalous, but it is a lovely display of humility, healing, love. This idea is demonstrated further in the writings of St. Paul: "For we are to God the aroma of Jesus." It is in this teaching the throwback to sacrifices in ancient Israel, animals bled and consumed on the altar. The smoke rises into the air and forgiveness unfolds, restores, purifies.

I discovered the unique complexities love reveals in the film "Intermission" (2003), directed by John Crowley. Like "Crash" (2004), numerous Irish residents cross paths in unusual ways. One looks for love by way of adult films and a one night stand with a woman whose husband recently left her for a younger woman, a woman being pursued by her previous boyfriend, a boyfriend who works with a fired bus driver and common thief to ransom the new man with the hope of reclaiming the relationship. Needless to say, circumstances go awry. Fortunately, the two main characters discover the love they truly seek, a love not shallow but transparent, not sappy but heartfelt, capable of real pain, real reconciliation. I think this may be a key evidentiary foundation for marriage collapse, an unwillingness to make diligent strides in conflict resolution. If love is commitment, this decision must play a primary role. In turn, the bond is knit tighter and sacrifices made for union preservation are noble. 

I previously noted stories concerning sacrifice are rare to find. But I am discovering they are easier to access. News which induces tears is always evident; the stories of goodness, life change and hope are the gems in the dirt, easily overlooked, but always of note. NPR recently reported on Julio Diaz, a social worker who lives in the Bronx. Each evening, before he heads home, he stops at his favorite diner. But one evening he walked to the subway stairs only to be stopped by a teenager with a knife. The teen asked for the wallet and Diaz generously gave it to him. The teen started walking away and Diaz stated, "Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm." He welcomed the teen to join him for his evening meal and took him to the diner. The teen watched the warm interactions between Diaz and the restaurant personnel, wondering if he owned the place. Julio told him no, only this: "Haven't you been taught you should be nice to everybody?" No doubt bewildered, the teen stated, "Yea, but I didn't think people actually behaved that way." Diaz believes doing good to others will inspire hope in them to act in turn. But notice he uses the word hope, the recognition goodness will not always be returned. But Diaz, like me, dares to dream the impossible becomes the inevitable.

"Marine threw himself onto grenade." BBC News. 3.30.08. 3.31.08 http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/west_midlands/7321647.stm

Garofalo, Michael. "A Victim Treats His Mugger Right." NPR Morning Edition. 3.28.08. 3.31.08 http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89164759

"Casa"

"You can't go home again."
--Thomas Wolfe

"I'm going home, to the place where I belong."
--Chris Daughtry

The search for a residence consumed me in 2007. I looked over two-stories, ranches, apartments and townhomes, carefully weighing the pros and cons of each possibility, rechecking my budget. I downplayed my disappointments from time to time, but continued my quest, knowing I would succeed in good time. I did locate a home and truly look forward to the relaxation it induces each day when I return from work, take my shoes off and run my toes across the carpet. I'm not sure why, but this practice is oddly refreshing. In fact, I take this cue from a film. Look through your DVD collection and dig out "Die Hard" (1988), directed by John McTiernan. Notice John McClane decides to take part in this practice, wisdom from a plane companion. I'm also discovering homes require continual upkeep, and prioritizing projects will always be necessary for the preservation of mental sanity. Living with my family numerous years creates a psychological hurdle, but I'm continually recognizing the necessity for moving forward. Independence breeds growth quickly.

It is with a heavy heart I continue to watch the housing market melt down. Credit continues to tighten and loan standards continue to sharpen. Just recently, the government introduced measures to help homeowners work out payments while retaining ownership. While these measures are important, millions are slowly moving into foreclosure. Others dwell in it fully. It is always simple to point the finger and assign blame, but when I ponder the intensity and emotion of this moment, sadness trumps judgment. A deep bond exists between homeowners and the structure which keeps the body warm and cool with the shifting seasons. Children are created and reared, tears are shed, laughter rolls through the air and memories are forged forever. And although the foundation is comprised of cement, wood, nails, drywall, insulation and shingles, a quiet presence, an "aroma", moves through the home: the lingering smell of cooked meals, ironed sheets, a vacuumed floor, the comfort in resting on a leather couch. Joyce Maynard puts it best: "A good home must be made, not bought." Homes are never identified by the materials used in the construction; it is truly the love or lack thereof that lives and moves within the walls and marks the people who step outside its doors.

In the Scriptures, the home is significant in numerous ways. The Hebrew word for "home" is bayith and carries a meaning very similar to the English translation (in a structural sense): "house", "abode" or "dwelling". Bayith also means "household" and "family". Understood this way, it is framed in terms of lineage, the family name and the respect it carries in the village or community. For instance, looking back into the 20th century, Rockefeller, Carnegie and Vanderbilt come to mind, men who defined society through the production and distribution of oil, steel and railroads, respectively. But with numerous names in circulation now, the luster is fading for legacy in the West. Life is framed in terms of the single person in the West, but the Scriptures read otherwise. Leadership by the mother and the father is followed. In other words, the statement "you and your household" denotes the unity of decision. St. Paul writes about his stay in prison. Chained to the wall, he begins to sing with his fellow brothers. The melody is followed by an earthquake and the structure collapses. The chains fall and the jailer thinks the men are gone. Preparing to take his life, Paul tells him to halt and see everyone remains. The jailer comes to Paul and wonders how he might be reconciled to God. Paul tells him to believe in Jesus and restoration follows. Incidentally, his household (family) follows his decision, taking the words of Paul to heart. He and his household stand together.

The word "home" evolves once more in the Greek translation: oikos meaning "of the human body". St. Paul writes about this in his letter to Corinth. Prostitution continues to play a prominent role in this society, but numerous men and women step away from the practice. Paul reminds readers the body is a temple, a "home" in which spiritual formation takes root. Jesus also validates this reference when he stands trial for his alleged transgressions against others. He tells his accusers, "Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days." But they are thinking in terms of buildings, the actual temple located in the center of Jerusalem. He is referring to himself and the rise from death in the coming days. I don't tend to think of my body in terms of a home, but I do hold complete ownership over it in every way: diet, exercise, sleep, thoughts, words. Surprisingly, this recognition takes me back to the household reference. And to books by Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins.

Hitchens (God is not Great) and Dawkins (The God Delusion) liken child rearing with religion to child abuse. In short, they believe this approach robs young minds the opportunity to think critically and decide whether they wish to take hold of the parent's beliefs too. What strikes me is the crossroads youth face as they mature into adolescence. Usually with the completion of high school, quick independence takes over, the freedom to abide by one's own sense of time and focused decision making, absolved from parental influence. In short, this frame of mind is coupled with moving out. But in this moment in time, I am discovering every person makes a decision regarding the spiritual upbringing: making it his or her own, or choosing to venture into a new path. Raised in a spiritual home, I decided to make the teachings I received my own. In retrospect, I do wish I was challenged more; it is only until recently I have decided to take the challenge upon myself, reading up on the worldviews, philosophies and beliefs others share who are distinct from my own. Some think this state of mind is risky and my spiritual foundation will become muddled. I strongly disagree. In fact, I think this exercise helps me to understand others better (because my core understanding of spiritual reality is grounded) and why they understand the world this way.

Surprisingly, this creates a question. Both Jesus and St. Paul talk about redemption in the entire household. Why does everyone believe though? Is it simply out of example by the parents? Or do the children reflect on the invitation, wrestle with it, meditate on it? Studying the teachings of Jesus, the response follows the miracles: people see life change with the eyes and respond with the heart, the spirit, the will to follow his leadership example. Unlike today, however, respondents didn't gather in the church to study the words of Jesus. The words he speaks are written after his death. But intrigue is truly evident, as Jewish people compare the messages of Jesus with the Torah and the Psalms, the Proverbs and the prophets, puzzled with the newness, even offended with intensity behind the unorthodox stories. People convene in the home to discuss his message, "breaking bread" in the process. It is joyous to see this practice continue today, good conversation alongside good food. I find lifetime memories are created in these settings. But the home is not the church. And while churches are continuing to drift into home settings, buildings are never the church. They are simply a place for the "church" to gather in common unity, people united with similar outlooks (beliefs) on spiritual formation. The "church" is my home away from home. Dorothy puts it best though: "There's no place like home." Indeed.

"Strain"

"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey." --Kenji Miyazawa

"People do not lack strength; they lack will." --Victor Hugo

I recently looked over a Franklin Covey survey and studied the results. The question is very simple: "What is your 2008 resolution?" Why are the results always the same? Exercising, losing weight, eating healthy and stepping out of debt are the top selections. The survey noted that 35% of respondents rescind the resolution they put forth before the month of January is over. Furthermore, 33% say they are not committed to the hopes they envision for the upcoming year. One will be hard pressed to find a website showcasing a resolution poll with this question: "What is your 2008 lust?" I can see the answers already: gaining twenty pounds, filing bankruptcy, divorcing my spouse, ignoring my kids, working fourteen hour days. No person with a sound mind desires to embrace this reality. Unfortunately, these responses occur on a daily basis. In fact, I have come to this conclusion: resolutions are made to be broken. They go hand in hand with the next 365 days. But what is the antidote?

In my humble belief, the wording needs revision first. Since resolutions are formed to be broken, does a better term exist? I choose the word "passion". When one becomes serious about achieving milestones in life, a strong desire should accompany it. Otherwise, the efforts become hollow, devoid of fervor, intensity, depth, focus. But I will not stop with passion. Pain or sacrifice will accompany passion too. And while pain is never actively sought out, it is necessary for the validity of goals. Take running for instance, a sport I willingly engage in. From time to time, close friends inquire on the distances I set forth and meet, laughing in a cynical surprise when the figure is muttered. While running is good, cleansing, inspiring and even a time of spiritual meditation, it hurts, literally. I stretch before I start, and since the legs are idle, groans escape my mouth. When the run concludes, my legs and my feet hurt. The cool down stretch alleviates a portion of the pain, but it lingers, a reminder of the hard pavement. Staying healthy is painful.

Incidentally, the presence of pain takes one back to the Scriptures. In the narrative focused on the first man and woman, they choose to violate the provision of God and consume the prohibited fruit. This is truly the nature of man, to satisfy his desires in the moment and struggle with the consequences later. In this story, God tells the woman childbirth will be agonizing; to the man, he will till his food from the ground hereafter. In fact, God calls the ground cursed, a further affirmation of the broken bond. Although agriculture is a fading means for food by the common citizen, men and women continue to toil the "ground" in the work setting, not only for sustenance, but for the desires of the heart, the expenses it takes to go forth in a "normal" state of living. I am always amazed with the overlap of emotion in life. As I look at my life in this moment, I am happy, at peace. A good friend told me last evening his colleague's wife died. This man is truly "in the depths, crying out", as David writes. But I know in time he will move forward and become stronger in the process. And the day will come when I will fall into the depths too, struggling, looking for answers.

I remember a memorable scene from "Forrest Gump" (1994), directed by Robert Zemeckis. Forrest and Lieutenant Dan are watching the seconds tick away from the existing year and the camera turns to a partygoer. She remarks, "Everyone has a chance to start over." As I reflect on this statement, I wonder if this is necessary. I can remember pages in 2007 I wish to discard from my story, but I know 2008 will hold new experiences also sour in taste. But the upcoming year will also embody triumphs, smiles, joy. The flavor of life rests in experiencing both. When Jesus teaches, he states, "In this world you will have trouble." I wonder if every student of Jesus understands this statement. It's a good thought, a world without problems, but with a broken bond between God, strife inevitably appears from time to time. But I give thanks for those who see ugliness as opportunity, the chance to reveal the kingdom of God every moment.

I am also coming to realize when one decides to give himself or herself away, effort or cost is always necessary. Stopping to help someone may or will require being late to an upcoming appointment, spending time in conversation or adding additional charges to the credit card. But I find myself hard pressed to find someone who is willing to say the costs outweigh the joy, the satisfaction, the feeling of goodness rising in the spirit. It's good to know this message will not be contained during the Christmas season, for this is a full year state of mind, heart, attitude. What's odd with resolutions? They are only lip service for a desired course of action. They begin this way: "I resolve to..." They sound like this to me though: "If I get around to it..." We joke around the office when tasks are asked. They tend to begin this way: "Can you do this for me?" Can I? Yes. The better question is "Will I?" Notice the power of the will. All tasks can be accomplished. Whether one is willing is the deciding factor.

I plan to look over my goals for 2007 this evening and evaluate the ones I have accomplished, the ones I have not met. I know immediately the financial cost has kept me from pursuing a handful of the goals I jotted down in January. And go figure, lack of time has inhibited me from taking hold of others. But before midnight "tolls for me" and 2008 moves into view, I will make goals for this new year too and make focused efforts to go forth and make them realities. Life will no doubt alter these plans; some may be revised, others discarded. But above all, I look forward to the opportunity to grow in character. I believe this is not accomplished through self-help literature, but a willingness to always be open and receptive to the feedback of others, family, friends, colleagues. Healthy criticism is good, if it leads to deeper integrity, wisdom, goodness. Go forth in 2008 and grow in every way. Nike always captures it best: Just do it.

"Solo"

"Silence is a source of great strength." --Lao Tzu

"A man can be himself only so long as he is alone." --Arthur Schopenhauer

In my humble belief, moving is not a joyous experience. Although family members and friends come together to achieve a common objective, stress flares up from time to time. Recently moving to my first home, I decided to streamline the process, consumed with simplicity. My bedroom was packed and moved to the den, arranged for quick pickup. A good friend helped me load in forty minutes and we headed to the house. My father and another friend awaited our arrival. And we unloaded the truck in twenty minutes. Fatigued, I spent the day in relaxation, ready to unbox the next day. As I consider the reality around me, a simple truth emerges: I am alone. Oddly enough, this feeling is without deep emotion. I will truly miss living with my family and the relationship building, but know going forward is not only good, but necessary.

In the Scriptures, God studies the first man and notices a disparity. Each animal is part of a pair; one is a complement to the other. But the man is standing alone. God recognizes this reality and decides to intervene, stating, "It is not good for man to be alone." Accordingly, he creates a woman. In fact, the bond the two share is literal: the woman is created from the man's rib. I am astounded with the staying power of the aforementioned statement: it is not good to be alone. But I live alone now. No one is waiting for me when I return home. And while I enjoy the freedom of this 'organic' time schedule, the presence of knowing another is near is the meditation of my heart. My search is for a complement, a companion, a partner, a half, a spouse, a wife. It is not good to be alone. At times though, it is.

Timing varies with whom I ask, but the conclusion remains the same: live by yourself for a season. Perhaps I am conflicted with moving withdrawal. I am eager to enjoy the presence of another. Ironically, this is the exception in Western thought. The role of the individual and his or her personal success is highly prized. The role of team success is growing, but it still tends to be overshadowed by the efforts of one person. Ponder the meaning of the Pixar success "Cars" (2006), directed by John Lasseter. Lightning McQueen fires his pit crew early in the film, unconcerned with the assistance they are willing to give. Mack and his shallow agent are his only friends left. But taking a wrong turn, he discovers a small town, Radiator Springs. In time, he discovers the value of letting others help and "slowing down".

And when moments of "slowing down" arrive, solitude is necessary. Alamoth writes a psalm (prayer) and records this word from above: "Be still and know that I am God." In the moments of silence, clarity arrives. When one studies the life of Jesus, he is often identified with the crowd, teaching, rebuking, healing. But the Scriptures reveal a phrase that repeats consistently: "He withdrew". To reference "Cars" once more, Sally leads Lightning to a unique place. Inching towards the cliff, Lightning poses a simple question: "How did you end up here?" With a simple smile, she replies, "I fell in love." With a mutter, Lightning wonders who the lucky vehicle is: "Corvette?" She replies, "No. With this." The camera turns to capture the valley below, the wondrous beauty stunning animation cannot fully capture.

At times, solitude is very important. Prayer comes to mind, for when distractions are commonplace, focus lapses and the mind turns to other thoughts, obligations, chores, opportunities. An Estonian Proverb states, "Silence is sometimes the answer." While many cannot sit in silence for even a few moments, I believe it is important for clarity, understanding. And although the mind wonders, it seems to inevitably settle on what is truly important in the moment, what matters most at a given point in time. I say this from personal experience. Retreats also underscore this idea. Spouses part ways for a weekend. They may spend time with others in group settings, but time alone is emphasized too.

The thought of death has roamed in my mind at times today. Not my personal death, but the passing of a loved one. His time is coming soon and I have shared my goodbyes recently. As I consider his departure in terms of this piece, I know he is not alone. His family has gathered around him in the hospital, and they will do so at his funeral. Strangers I have no personal connection with are coming to express words of light, ways in which their life is better by crossing paths with his. But I also know so many are passing away this moment throughout the world without a proper memorial, friends to share thoughts of joy, hope, strength. My heart weeps for them. U2 penned a song on their 2004 album "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" that captures the importance of looking to another: "Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own".

God is the author of community. Back in the Genesis narrative, before God creates man, he makes a very unique statement, easily overlooked with a passing glance: "Let us make man in our image". Us. Plural. More than one. More than two. This commune is known as the Trinity: God, Jesus, and the Spirit, each distinct and yet in eternal connection, eternal dance. Thoreau writes, "I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude." While his thought is valid, it falls short after time. Walden is important for a season, but embracing the touch of another is vital for a lifetime of mental and spiritual formation. Because I can't make it on my own.

"Divulge"

"Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly."
--George MacDonald

"Seek not to understand that you may believe, but believe that you may understand."
--St. Augustine

I began jogging last November and spent my time running laps around the local park.  I started taking notice of the regulars and watching the children smile on the swings.  The trees provided periodic shade and the lull of the adjacent creek calmed my spirit.  But I started becoming bored.  The track is a circle and I inevitably returned to the starting point.  The scent of change beckoned and I decided to answer.  I decided to turn my attention to the city that surrounds me.  New routes emerged and a deeper appreciation for the scenery captured my vision.  Approximately ninety percent of the routes consist of sidewalks.  Humility lives in the ten.  In the ten is the highway and in the ten is additional trust I must exercise, the trust drivers will keep the eyes on the road, trust they will note my presence.

"Meet the Parents" (2000) comes to mind as I think about trust, a film about a male nurse whose deeply in love.  After Greg (portrayed by Ben Stiller) meets Pam's parents for the first time, they convene in the living room.  Pam's father Jack (Robert De Niro) reveals his business venture and hands a teddy bear to Greg.  Beginning a conversation on leaving the children with a babysitter, he asks, "Can you really trust another human being, Greg?"  Pausing, Greg replies, "Yeah, I think so."  With a look of displeasure, Jack firmly states, "No. The answer is you cannot."  Ironically, the film revolves around Greg's efforts to establish a working trust with Jack, even lying to earn his approval and, in time, his blessing to marry Pam.  But Jack's response continues to linger in my mind.  The ramifications of this statement are equally important.

For many, fully trusting everyone is not possible.  But the willing move past this statement and live in hope confiding in another will not be breached.  Trust is easy to give, difficult to restore.  Children, for instance, continuously strive to earn a parent's trust.  But when it is violated, restoration becomes timely and costly.  In the Scriptures, a Hebrew word for trust is chacah and means "confide in."  I have chacah in God, but hesitations arise from time to time; the honest and vulnerable will validate this statement and affirm it too.  A belief in one who is without physical features is vexing at times; however, the attentive look closer for his imprints.  I firmly believe God is both visible and hidden.  And with this belief, I reveal my insecurities, fears, dreams, doubts and musings to him.  What happens from here though?

The Scriptures continually reveal man's belief in God, a trust, an expectation he will provide, heal, restore.  But pausing a moment and arranging the aforementioned statement, a revised and inspiring thought appears: God believes in humanity.  He believes that men and women, while capable of pain and hatred, are capable of peace and love.  Based on the headlines, this thought seems like a pipe-dream, the wish of the naive and ignorant.  The determined are not sidelined by acts of ugliness though; they press forward and gradually peel away the film of reality, unearthing the kingdom beneath.  Consider this simple story: a young girl, distraught over the world's problems, cries out to God, stating, "Why do heartaches still exist God?  Will you please take action?"  God whispers in a quiet voice, "I did, I made you."  Like the parents of a child watching him connect the bat with the ball, strength and determination arise in knowing another believes in one's ability to create change, to stay the course, to succeed.

Jesus further underscores this thought with healings.  Numerous people approach him with physical ailments.  Each believe in his ability to bring restoration, wholeness.  And when the infirmity is gone, the belief of the healed further increases.  But Jesus downplays what he has done, constantly telling the cured, "Your faith has healed you."  He believes in the belief of the willing and points it out for others to see.  And as his popularity spreads, he watches the actions of others he has empowered, hoping they follow through.  And when they fail, Jesus becomes agitated, vexed at the lack of ability.  Perhaps God sees humanity this way, curious, puzzled with the waiting, quietly stating, "The kingdom is right here, right now.  Seek it and unearth it.  Bring goodness and love to others."  In fact, simple moments are powerful moments.  In January, a man with a seizure fell backward on to the subway tracks in Manhattan.  Wesley Autrey, a construction worker, asked a woman standing next to him to watch his two daughters.  He jumped into the tracks and pulled the man between them as the subway train roared overhead.  Both walked away with minor bruising.  Autrey is now known as the Subway Superman and his motto is simple: "If you see something, do something."

It seems to me that trusting God is simpler than trusting men and women.  Knowing deep and guarded thoughts fall into the air and rise to the stars is liberating.  But having the courage to share the same thoughts with close friends may require deeper strength, deeper discipline.  Because unfortunately, many people today have few friends, relationships forged from childhood that continue to thrive.  Consider the distinction between "friends" and "acquaintances" on MySpace (should you have an account).  How many names in the friend list will be there for you at any moment?  I believe men and women have one to five people at most they will fully bare the mind to.  Why?  The practice of unloading baggage and finding relief can be a painful process at times.  What's more, I continually discover that maintaining the relationships with close friends requires strong effort.  With hectic schedules and competing priorities always in motion, phone calls and gatherings fall into the cracks.  The passive response is hoping the other person will call; taking charge and punching the numbers is the mark of the attentive.

The writer of Hebrews, still disputed, spends an entire chapter on trust in God, what he deems "faith".  And trust in what is unseen is inherently a paradox.  The author captures this thought well, writing, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."  How can one be certain of the unseen?  I don't know, but I am certain God exists and imprints of his image are available everywhere.  During the Middle Ages, deep questions about life were unanswered...mystery filled the air and questions reigned.  As time unfolded and the Enlightenment emerged, reason began to explain the origins of life, the nature of man, the importance of science.  The mystery was stripped away, but I see its resurgence once again and I like responding to philosophical questions this way: "I don't know."  Lifehouse put it best in the chorus of a song, aptly entitled "Unknown": "See I know, the don't know, keeps me hanging on to you."  Here's to not having all the answers.

"But"

"The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget."
--Thomas Szasz

"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice."
--Abraham Lincoln

Apologies have been muttered numerous times over the past year: Mel Gibson, for his callous remarks against the Jewish community; Don Imus, for insulting the lady Rutgers basketball team; Michael Richards, for lambasting hecklers during a comedy show.  Each have issued statements and apologized publicly for his transgression.  And although a handful may continue to bear a grudge, the majority of the public has moved on.  Unfortunately, forgiveness is not this simple.  Human relationships are complex and forged through reciprocation, a give-and-take dynamic.  In other words, men and women give with the expectation of return.  Benevolence falls by the wayside as an egocentric character emerges.

Thankfully, many are choosing to part ways with this pattern.  I discovered this recently through the 1998 film "Les Miserables," Victor Hugo's riveting novel on redemption.  Liam Neeson vividly portrays Jean Valjean, the convict turned mayor.  A simple encounter with mercy through a humble bishop in the film's opening scene revises the direction of Valjean's life.  In turn, he continually exhibits this virtue, unwilling to disregard the plea of the downtrodden.  But like everyone, his past follows him.  For Valjean, his past is literally steps behind.  Javert, the police inspector, pursues Valjean without cessation, consumed with law, justice, reason, vigilance.  During a conversation with Valjean, Javert states, "Reform is a discredited fantasy."  But Valjean knows otherwise and is unwilling to let hate consume him.  As the film drew to a close, I pondered Javert and questioned whether forgiveness rested in his heart.  It did.  Javert discovered mercy and its ability to trump reason.  And Valjean walked home with peace and a humble smile.

Forgiveness is a vexing practice.  And like apologies, they can be half-hearted, a hollow expression of sincerity.  Forgiveness of this kind facilitates bitterness, a state of mind unwilling to release the injuries of another.  In turn, the soul is darkened and the wronged live in distrust of others authentic acts of generosity.  The antithesis of forgiveness is complete reconciliation.  Paradoxically, the wronged still live with the memory of the perpetrator's action.  In time, it may slip from memory.  But subtle signals quickly bring its return--a song, a book, a film, a smell, a dream, the offender.  Feelings of anger, betrayal, depression, and shock return as well.  The wrong has been forgiven, but the memory continues to live on.

A good friend captures this moment retelling a story.  He walked across the stage with a backpack full of rocks and commented on a story many know well.  In this story Jesus tells, a woman is brought before him, a woman who committed adultery moments ago.  Films about Jesus with this scene portray the woman fully clothed.  But I have pondered whether her accusers brought her before Jesus without dress.  While this thought may seem irrelevant, suppose she was brought through the city for all to see.  The people recognize her face and begin to make comments to one another, shocked at her lack of restraint.  Dropped before Jesus, her head hangs as tears trickle down her cheeks.  She is ashamed, dishonored by the community.  The Torah states that those caught in adultery must be put to death.  The teachers of this law stand behind the woman, rocks in hand, eager to stone her.  Through research and conversations with others, I have discovered stoning is accomplished by placing the condemned in a large hole and dropping sizable boulders.  Jesus begins writing in the hand, perhaps the shortcomings of the accusers, stating, "If you have never broken the law you ascribe to, throw your rocks."  The teachers begin to drop their rocks and walk away.  He helps the woman up and forgives her offense.

Society is defined by judgment.  Humans compare themselves to one another, continually pointing out differences, sizing others up in microseconds by automobiles, clothing, and wallets.  But behind this comparison is judgment.  Every one is quick to point out the mistake of another, unaware a backpack of "rocks" is strapped to the shoulder, ammunition waiting to be unloaded.  But God invites the willing to drop their stones.  James, a brother of Jesus, poignantly captures this thought as he writes, "Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful."  Mercy is a shocking response to the offender and attempting to understand the kindness beneath it through logic is a futile exercise.  Consider God's perception of humanity.  There are many who believe him to be wholly good and fully knowledgeable of all human activity.  Accordingly, he is aware of all evil actions, all virtuous actions.  And his bag of rocks is sizable; in fact, this bag contains many stones each denoting acts of ugliness--all for one person. 

Every person has inscribed rocks in God's knapsack.  But unlike man, he is unique, distinct, special.  Completely aware of the faults of all men and women, he chooses not to cast his rocks.  Perhaps this is the clearest portrait of mercy.  He is justified turning his back on humanity, but is unwilling to do so.  Personally, I may spend the rest of my life trying to understand this decision, this dynamic, this love.  It is a decision that defies reason in every way.  From time to time, I hear this statement concerning truth: "Accept it and move on."  I have processed mercy mentally and know its definition, its origin, its synonyms.  But understanding this precept spiritually comes through receiving it and showing it.

I have discovered the story of Israel, the story of man, the story of life, hinges on one word: "but."  This three letter word is indicative of change, always the representation of a turning point, for better or worse.  St. Paul writes, "But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive..."  In third grade, I was introduced to "Schoolhouse Rock!" for the first time.  This series of short educational films featured memorable songs on grammar, the Presidents, science, history and math.  Incidentally, the only film I can recall discusses grammar and poses this question repeatedly through song: "Conjunction Junction, what's your function?"  The film reveals this answer: "Hooking up words and phrases and clauses."  As I reflect further on this three letter word previously mentioned, the question arises again: "Conjunction Junction, what's your function?"  Forgiveness.

"Reset"

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."
--Lewis B. Smedes

"Nothing is so soothing to our self esteem as to find our bad traits in our forebears.  It seems to absolve us."
--Van Wyck Brooks

Two years ago, my brother and I undertook a valiant quest: reacquire video games for the original Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) we came to possess once more.  We have made numerous acquisitions thus far and truly cherish the cartridges easily accessible on eBay.  Video games have improved my hand-eye coordination and ability to reason, my love for story and desire to watch the hero triumph; conversely, they have introduced me to violence and sporadic motion sickness, frustration and disappointment.  But I recently discovered another insight, a virtue of immense importance, located on the front of the NES.  This lesson can be practiced through a simple motion—pressing the button adjacent to “power.”

I have come to realize that through video games I can forgive myself.  In fact, I tend to start games over when I fail to advance past the first level.  I am in control and wield robust power, numerous chances to succeed the next time.  Unfortunately, forgiveness is never this simple; life and relationships are complex and vexing.  Apologies tend to be hollow and devoid of sincerity from time to time.  And forgiving one’s self is never effortless.  “Time heals all wounds” is a trite and apathetic statement.  Everyone walks with emotional scars; in spite of this, forgiveness facilitates freedom.

Forgiveness is continually emphasized in the Scriptures.  The ancient Hebrew word for forgive is nasa and means “to take” or “carry off.”  Forgiveness for another is nasa, the reception of healing and the release of a weighty burden.  Peter, a student of Jesus, asked his teacher how many times forgiveness should be extended.  Confident with seven, Jesus corrected him and stated seventy-seven.  To contextualize this passage, consider this: the Jewish Talmud teaches that forgiveness is only required three times for a repeat offender.  After the fourth transgression, no forgiveness is required.  Jesus reveals the frivolous nature of numbers and questions the heart, the ability to show mercy time and time again.

The antithesis of this teaching is found in the Torah.  Lamech, a descendant of Cain, is motivated by revenge, not forgiveness.  He states, “If Cain is avenged seven times, for Lamech it’s seventy-seven!”  Revenge resonates with society; it saturates television and film.  What’s more, “justice” has become a synonym for “revenge.”  For instance, I tend to identify with Batman, not Superman.  The Dark Knight is the quintessential vigilante, motivated by the death of his parents, motivated to remove criminals from the streets, motivated with or without the law’s aid.  This quest can become deeper and darker though.  And failing to let go, failing to forgive, precedes bitterness, cancer of the soul.  Bitterness is internal rebellion, the failure to make peace with an offender and one’s self; what follows is prolonged pessimism and distrust for everyone.

Jesus overturns this state of mind and invites his students to extend unceasing mercy.  I discovered this through an object lesson last year.  I walked into a large hall and noticed numerous balloons in the air, each with a lengthy string and contained by the ceiling above them.  And I discovered this revelation through my friend’s teaching: failing to forgive is letting the balloon leave the hand in this room; I have the ability to bring the balloon back to my hand, the representation of my pain, the representation of the one who has wronged me.  Bitterness consumes the spirit.  Authentic forgiveness becomes reality as one steps outside the building and releases the string.  No ceiling exists to corral the balloon—it is free and will not return.  The scars and hurt may remain, but like the emancipated balloon, liberty inundates the spirit.

I was jogging recently and listened closely to a song entitled “I Feel So” by Box Car Racer.  I think the chorus captures the spectrum of our emotions: “I feel so mad, I feel so angry, I feel so callous, so lost, confused again…” The thought of forgiving what seems unforgivable unsettles my spirit.  But knowing I have been forgiven much, mercy should be the natural extension.  Jesus references a man in his teaching, a man who owes the ruling king $20 million dollars.  The king plans to sell the man and his family to repay the debt.  Consumed with grief, the man falls on his knees and pleads for additional time to gather the money.  The king’s eyes narrow and he decides to clear the debt completely.  The man wipes his tears and rejoices.  As he steps out of the king’s chamber, he notices a man who owes him $2,000.  Enraged, he grabs the man by the throat and slams him into the wall, demanding his loan be paid in full.  Pleading to no avail, this second man is tossed into prison.  Others notice the first man’s actions and inform the king.  Furious, the king hands the disgraced man unto the jailers to be tortured until his renewed debt is paid in full.

Those who forgive will be forgiven…the cycle is continuous and it brings light to the eyes.  Remember multiple swings in tee ball or softball, another roll in Monopoly?  Hope lives in second chances.  And while life seems unforgiving from time to time, there is a God who grants another swing, another toss of the dice.  Why?  Perhaps he believes that men and women will learn from prior mistakes, internalize wisdom as another time rolls around.  Perhaps he loves without condition, without hesitation.  Alexander Pope writes, “Teach me to feel another’s woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.”  Box Car Racer captures the essence of forgiveness best with the last line of the aforementioned song: “Let’s start over.”

"Snapshot"

"Hope is the feeling that the feeling you have isn't permanent."
--Jean Kerr

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
--Edmund Burke

Images are being constructed around the world, moments in time that come and go as quickly as a breeze.  For better or worse, lives are being impacted.  There was a time we were unaware of these stories.  But that time has since passed.  Information is real-time, instantaneous, readily available to the masses.  And sadly, we are stricken with too much information, too much data, statistics, interviews, commentaries.  We shuffle through each account and neglect the emotion, the pain, the strife so many are engaged with.  We grow numb to bad news...

BAGHDAD, Iraq: A car bomb detonates near Karbala; 43 lives are instantly extinguished while 55 walk away with wounds.  Some time later, a car bomb detonates on the Jadriya bridge; 10 perish while 15 nurse wounds.  Across town, two police officers and one civilian are gunned down.  And two other roadside bombs explode even further away.

RABAT, Morocco: Two brothers, strapped with explosive vests, blow themselves up near a cultural center in Casablanca, the city we remember by Bogart.  Suspicion surrounds al Qaeda, the network that claims responsibility for a recent bombing in Algeria, killing 33 and wounding 200.

DARFUR, Sudan: The United Nations estimates that 400,000 lives have been taken in the continuing struggle between the Jangaweed, an armed militia group, and farmers who work the surrounding region.  Two million residents have fled and peace agreements are failing to hold.  The outlook is grim.

NEW YORK, New York: A man jumps to his death from the 69th floor in the Empire State Building.  Portions of Manhattan are closed as the investigation continues.  His name has not been released yet; he was a lawyer in his 30s.

SELMER, Tennessee: Mary Winkler is in court, charged with first-degree murder of her husband, Matthew.  They have been married ten years.  Mary asserts that he physically threatened her on one occasion and constantly criticized her mannerisms.  She is quoted as saying, "I guess I just got to a point and I snapped."

These are the stories of our daily news, an unending collection of anxiety and heartache.  We cannot escape the ugliness of the world.  And unfortunately, similar stories will follow these, accounts of hatred and lament.  But a revelation may exist in this melancholy state of affairs.  How do you filter news stories?  Do the headlines invoke frustration and rage?  Or does your heart sink, broken as you try to grasp the callous heart of men and women?  Does God feel this way?  And does he call us into this state of mind, state of heart?  The psalmist reminds us that he will not despise a broken and contrite heart.

Countless realities exist each moment of the day.  As newborns enter the world, adults die.  Outside my window, a child is riding a bike, without a care in the world; oceans away, a child this same age is forcefully subjected to oppressive labor, earning pennies for tiresome toil; another child this same age is engulfed in a heinous sex trade.  This is their childhood.  Many of us can walk to the refrigerator for bottled water; oceans away, millions of men and women struggle to simply locate it.  Sadness leads to brokenness.  And brokenness leads to the virtue desired by humanity, a quiet yearning: hope.  Hope invites change--it is a welcome invitation for new circumstances, new attitudes, new politics, new strength, new joy.  Hope is the herald of change.

Jesus frames hope through unique language in the Scriptures: "kingdom of God."  He referenced this place many times, calling it to mind through parables, often facilitating a teaching with these words: "The kingdom of God is like..."  Unfortunately, his listeners did not understand.  They sought a literal kingdom, a place of radiance and honor, might and authority.  In fact, they tried to seize and crown him by force.  Have we misunderstood too?  "Kingdom of God" and "Heaven" are used interchangeably by many Christ followers.  But they are not the same.  And sadly, Christ followers tend to be overly concerned with eternal thoughts, neglecting the everyday, the here and now.   But the Scriptures reveal otherwise, amazing words that repeat: "restore" and "renewal" and "revive."  Greek etymology frames "kingdom" in terms of dominion, not territory.  The invitation to be part of this kingdom resides in this reality, this moment, the everyday.

I recently encountered a vision of this kingdom in film.  "Tears of the Sun" (2003), directed by Antoine Fuqua, is the story of one man's struggle to make a good decision.  Lt. A.K. Waters, portrayed by Bruce Willis, leads a team of special forces into Nigeria to extract an American doctor.  The doctor refuses to go unless the 70 refugees she watches over are included.  Waters has her escorted by force.  As the choppers depart, the crew begins to notice the unthinkable--ethnic slaughter in the surrounding villages.  Waters stares at his team, reading the eyes of each.  He takes a moment to pause.  And he instructs the chopper to turn around; 12 villagers are loaded onto the chopper as he simultaneously decides to lead the remaining hopefuls to neighboring Cameroon.  Initially indifferent and void of emotion, the film reveals his journey of change, revelation.  And he comes to a place of concern, remorse, awareness.  He expresses his change of heart very bluntly in a vivid scene towards the film's close: "I broke my own rule.  I started to give a XXXX."  While this statement seems jarring, the intensity and emotion beneath it is humbling.  He peered into the kingdom and then brought it forth through action.

I referenced the term "solemn joy" in a recent reflection.  This is a phrase of deep reflection; it is a reminder that we have much to be thankful for, much to smile about.  It is also a reminder that many do not share this sentiment.  I have stared at pictures of Africa and looked intently at faces of malnourished children, barren mothers, and displaced families, discovering a sadness words cannot begin to capture.  Many of these individuals will not tell stories of hope.  But others may have the chance through the intervention, the action of others who notice the kingdom, who facilitate its presence.

I did not include any positive stories in this piece--this was not intentional.  I have discovered the difficulty is finding them.   In fact, I am reminded of a quote muttered in a James Bond film: "There's no news like bad news."  Bad news is a reminder the world is broken, in need of repair, rescue.  Have you noticed that news programs will relegate lighter news, generally positive, for the end of the broadcast?  Why is this?  Is it to remind society life consists of light pockets, acts of kindness, stories of goodness between the mess?

The kingdom of God is not otherworldly; it is right now.  Those who build the walls of this kingdom have no brick, no mortar, no stone.  They construct it through character, integrity, mercy, forgiveness, love, counter cultural principles.  The kingdom of God is an existence transformed, a life refined and restored one moment at a time.  Ambassadors of this kingdom reveal the good news we long to hear more of.  Unfortunately, their actions will largely go unnoticed.  They are not deterred though.  Sadly, good deeds do not erase bad deeds; good news will never displace bad news.  Ugliness will continue, but all will be restored.  Brokenness will give way to healing.  Redemption will continually be realized.  And the resulting Polaroid will be breathtaking.

"Interruption"

"Noise is the most impertinent of all forms of interruption.  It is not only an interruption, but is also a disruption of thought."
--Arthur Schopenhauer

"I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in and invite God and his angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door."
--John Donne

Interruptions inundate us daily, stealing our attention, deflecting our thoughts elsewhere.  Let me illustrate with a quick example...as I write this article, a lawn mower is humming outside the window; I received a phone call moments ago; the television is on in the next room.  I have always been fascinated with teenagers who complete homework with headphones on, concurrently posting messages on MySpace.  Ironically, many perform very well academically, unimpeded by a phenomenon society as a whole continues to master--multitasking.

Mobile phones have transformed our existence.  According to the CTIA, approximately 229 million Americans carry this revolutionary gadget.   And while they have eliminated communication barriers, mobile phones continue to exist as both a blessing and a curse.   Theater chains have created cinematic trailers to remind patrons that "silence is [still] golden."  And those who violate this mandate subject themselves to the dirty stares and boisterous criticism of adjacent strangers.  The Massachusetts Institute of Technology released a study in 2004 and the results come as no surprise: a mobile phone is the invention society can't live with or without, edging out the alarm clock and the television.  They also reveal a daunting, unmistakable revelation: we can be found anywhere.  And they initiate distractions at work, at school, at church, at dinner...

As unwelcome and unwanted as interruptions are from time to time, they keep us on our toes.  They can create a moment of aghast shock, a jarring of the mind.  I recently listened to a radio program and will never forget this humbling phrase: "One phone call can change your life."  Sadly, a full and joyous life degrades through this mindset; anxiety and fear begin to control thought patterns.  But interruptions are the quintessential unknown, the essence of uncertainty.  They are unavoidable in life.  There is another side to this coin though.  Interruptions break the ebb and flow of monotony, the slump a typical work week exacts.  Joy surfaces when a friend calls to spend time catching up.  Glee rises when an unexpected bonus finds its way to your desk.  Delight ascends when a child takes his or her first steps.

Numerous distractions exist in the Scriptures as well.  Adam & Eve were interrupted in paradise by a serpent enticing them to seek unknown knowledge.  The nation of Israel constantly diverted its attention elsewhere, fixated on other cultures, other practices, other gods.  It appears Christ may have been the most distracted figure; everywhere he stepped, someone sought his wisdom, his counsel.  Others clamored for healing.  And still others rebuked his keen love and interest for the down and out.

As men and women of impatience, we expect results immediately.  We practice this tendency in our prayers too.  I am reminded of a humorous adage that captures this state of mind: "God, give me patience--NOW!"  And while it is often regarded as trite, "Patience is a virtue" still encourages us to slow down and breathe.  Mark records a story that reveals the importance of waiting and trusting.  Jesus had recently healed a man consumed with a demon; after crossing the lake, he was approached by Jairus, a synagogue ruler.  He pleaded with Jesus to come and restore his dying child.  Jesus agreed and began to walk with him.  As the crowd surrounding him increased, a woman afflicted with pain mustered the courage to touch his cloak, convinced the suffering she struggled with would cease permanently.  She touched his cloak and felt a release, a healing consume her completely.  Jesus knew someone touched him.  Afraid but hopeful, the restored woman fell at his feet, admitting her actions.  Jesus acknowledged her faith and commissioned her to live in peace.

Men approached Jairus and informed him that his daughter died.  Jesus disregarded their comments, inviting everyone to believe.  He went to the house of Jairus, to a commotion of wailing and tears.  He told everyone the child is asleep, only to receive laughter in return.  And Jesus told the child to get up--she did.  Everyone was astonished.  Incidentally, this story is reminiscent of Lazarus, a friend of Jesus who also passed away.  Jesus did not come to visit the family after hearing the news though; he remained in town for another three days.  And then he came, resurrecting his good friend.

Christ was interrupted in each of these accounts. But he was fully aware of his actions.  Anxiety fell on those consumed with emotion...Jairus, a stricken father, Mary & Martha, sisters of Lazarus.   I ask this question--do we trust enough to believe God will come and sit with us, console us, lament with us, rejoice with us, the moment he knows to?  Ironically, we ask God for help immediately in times of desperation, elated with peace and security as they arrive at the right moment.  And then we return to a rushed existence, failing to make time for stillness, solitude, restoration, and strength with him.  The psalmist invites us into this moment in what may be the most overlooked, uplifting sentence in the Scriptures: "Be still, and know that I am God."

Interruptions annoy and encourage me.  They capture the unknown while simultaneously  expelling the tedious tasks of day to day living.  I am frightened with the thought of some and excited as I ponder the possibilities of others.  This is the "duality of distractions."  Be mindful of interruptions and remember that God, that friends, that work, that sleep, that pain, that children, that stars, that life...capture our attention every moment.

I have to go--the phone is ringing. 

"Adrift"

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."  --John Donne

"You belong with me, not swallowed in the sea."  --Coldplay, "Swallowed in the Sea"

The Purpose Driven Life has sold 20 million copies.  I sporadically ask individuals I know to recite the first line.  While many have read this acclaimed bestseller, four words elude them: "It's not about you."  Like a car buyer aghast with "sticker shock," this statement glares back at us.  This adage seems downright comical--life is tailor made for us, custom built for our detailed specifications.   And I am thankful for it, thankful for the ability to choose my film preferences and car color, my wardrobe and diet, my decor and football team.  Everyone has a unique identity.

Unfortunately, spiritual growth falters when we forge our faith exclusively through this lens, more concerned with our personal journey and less mindful of others who walk this same path.  In fact, we often frame the Scriptures in this context, searching for personal validation.  Ironically, I am discovering the emphasis on the community more and more.  For instance, Zacchaeus, a hated tax collector, noticed Jesus teaching among an onlooking crowd, eager to catch a glimpse.  Short in stature, he climbed an adjacent tree, fixated on the respected Rabbi.  Jesus glanced up and asked him to come down, sharing these words: "I'm coming over.  Let's have lunch."  Zacchaeus immediately decided to give away half his possessions and pay back anyone he had cheated four times the original amount.  Redemption arrived not for one man, but for many...the lives Zacchaeus would touch through his actions.

The "butterfly effect" postulates that the flapping motion of butterfly's wings can create changes in the atmosphere that may lead to compounding events, such as a tornado.  In other words, a small occurrence can initiate the likelihood of a larger one taking shape.  This theory is highlighted in the recent film "Babel," directed by Alejandro Inarritu.  Incidentally, I have become fascinated with films that focus on characters whose lives cross paths directly or indirectly.  "Crash" and "Traffic" are two additional films that come to mind.

I write about the importance of community often, doing so because I fail to involve myself in it enough.  The circle of close friends I have is a significant portion of my life, but I earnestly look for opportunities to enlarge the radius of this figure.  In fact, I find myself watching other drivers pass me on a daily basis, curious about the story they live to tell.  This story is simply life, the amazing collection of triumphs and failures, relationships and  beliefs, beauty and ugliness, ideologies and stereotypes.

"It's a Wonderful Life," (1946) directed by Frank Capra, will be on television Christmas Eve.  For the record, I believe this is the best film ever made.  Oddly enough, the message presented in this film transcends the holiday season.  This black and white masterpiece is a stirring account of a man who spends his life uplifting others, relinquishing his dreams and passions for the sake of the community.  We know the story.  Standing at the edge of death, he catches a glimpse of life without him, pondering the hollow voids in others who cannot recall his existence.  George Bailey discovers that he simply wants to be near his wife and children, to simply live again, unconcerned with the financial repercussions that are awaiting.  But he finds community waiting at home as friends and family shower him with loose change and dollar bills.  And his guardian angel Clarence leaves him with words of wisdom that transcend time and space, money and status, prestige and power: "No man is a failure who has friends."

Despite the pull to go solo, I prefer the company of others.  I am thankful there are others who can identify with my shortcomings and offer encouragement, others who add vibrant color to my life, invest time and energy in my growth.  I intend to do the same, to infuse my story with those who wish to be a part of it.  I have much to learn, but I am willing to give what insight and knowledge I have to anyone eager to know.  I will not go alone.

If the tide begins to pull me from the mainland of community, toss me a rope...