I HAD MY CHANCE

I've been reading John in my morning devotions. I got to the part when Jesus has an encounter at the well with a Samaritan woman. It was the same passage that was used in the sermon yesterday at our Sunday morning service. Both times, the main theme I heard loud and clear was that the fields were ripe with harvest. I decided God was telling me to keep my eyes open, and I prayed for an opportunity to either reap or sow.

Later that morning, I went for a brisk run, on one of my regular routes which takes me past City Hall and the Art Museum. I decided to cut my route off a little short so I could stop by a produce truck in my neighborhood (I had stuck a $5 bill in my socks). As I crossed my imaginary finish line and slowed to a walk, I looked down at my stopwatch. I was pleased with my time, especially as I had strained my back late last week and had told myself this morning that I would take it easy on this run.

Just then, a suspicious-looking guy began to approach me. I was in a neighborhood in which I often get accosted for change. There is even one woman who frequents this area who has told me and/or my friends three different stories about her daughter's recent passing over the past five years. I tried not to make eye contact, but the suspicious-looking guy hollered over to me and said, "Hey, let me ask you a question." I turned my head quickly towards him and said, "I'm in a hurry," and darted down the street.

Just that instant, the passage that I had studied this morning came to mind. By then, I was well on my way away from the guy. But I wondered if that was the answer to my prayer. Was that guy who I wrote off as a scam artist or even worse the very person God was sending in my direction, that I might either reap or sow? Was that suspicious-looking man Jesus Himself, waiting to be served and shown mercy? I don't know.

HYPHENATED

I remember growing up as a Taiwanese-American, speaking one language at home and another at school. Now that I'm all grown up, I've come to terms with my hyphenated state, and I can honestly say it offers me more benefits than drawbacks. What those benefits and drawbacks are could be the subject of another blog, I guess.

But I was reminded of one of the potential drawbacks the other day, when a friend of mine who is Chinese and whose husband is Caucasian told me how difficult it has been to teach her son Mandarin. They say ages zero to five are prime language acquisition years for the brain and mouth, so it didn't surprise me when she said she had been trying to teach her son both English and Mandarin. I was surprised, though, to hear that he wasn't taking as well to Mandarin.

It seems that when a furry feline would saunter across the yard, he would point at it and say, "mao," while the other schoolkids would teasingly correct him: "that's not a mao, that's a cat." The constant corrections, combined perhaps with a desire for the boy to be like his dad, who only speaks English, has caused him to shut down when it comes to his Mandarin lessons. Which is understandable but unfortunate: I wish my Mandarin was better. It's quite awful, although to my credit my first language wasn't Mandarin but Taiwanese. Still, my parents sent me to Mandarin school every Friday night when I was a kid, and the combination of not speaking Mandarin at home and my greater desire to play tag during recess ensured that so many lessons and so many years would have little effect on my fluency. But I digress.

Anyway, all this got me thinking, given that my wife is Caucasian, how easily or difficultly our children would take to issues of race, culture, and language. I wonder how they will feel being hyphenated.

WHAT I'VE LEARNED DURING MY SABBATICAL YEAR

My sabbatical year is melting away like ice cream on an August day in Philadelphia. On September 2nd, I return to the office and my year of not having to clock in from 9 to 5 will be officially over. Given that I took this year for rest and reflection, it would make sense that I take a little bit of time to consider what I got out of this year at home. So in no particular order are some of the things I've learned about life and about myself in the last 11 1/2 months:

1. Working from home is definitely not a good long-term solution for me. As much as I enjoy having complete freedom and flexibility in my schedule, and as much as I welcome opportunities to work in isolation, I am realizing that I dearly miss the routine of leaving the house in the morning and returning in the evening, and I particularly miss the social aspects of the office environment. No, I won't return to the workplace a converted chatterbox. But I will gladly return to that workplace and to social interactions and water cooler conversations.

2. Life goes on without me. It is at once my proudest achievement and a huge blow to my ego that my youth program has survived, even thrived, in my absence. I am proud of the fact that I have cast the vision for my work and identified and trained my staff sufficiently that the show can go on without me and even raise itself a notch. And it hurts a little to know that I'm perilously dispensible. But it's a good hurt, the healthy kind that gives leaders perspective on what they do and who they are.

3. I enjoy writing but couldn't do it full-time. I've done a ton of writing this year, both business (writing research reports, feasibility studies, and operations manuals) and pleasure (blogging, book manuscripts, and journal entries). It's been a blast to have the time and inspiration to do so. But on the days I've allocated eight hours to write, I'm lucky to get three or four good hours in, before online backgammon and ESPN.com beckon.

4. Drivenness is a sin I will spend my whole life fighting against. Like a messy person who fills a countertop or house no matter how big or small it is, I find activities and pursuits to fill whatever free time I have been given. Having a year away from the office has freed me to take on a lot of these activities and pursuits, like reading books or working on the house or going on road trips. It's been great, but it also speaks to an inability to simply be still. The great ones of faith were not great because of their constant drive towards achievement, but because of their ability to be still before God; they did great things for God out of steady communion with Him, not out of steady striving towards accomplishment.

5. I can be comfortable in my own skin. I've been on this earth for three decades, so you'd think I'd be comfortable in my own skin. Although I know a lot of people twice my age who haven't yet gotten comfortable. I don't think I'm yet comfortable, but I think I've given myself permission to be comfortable. Whether or not I'm liked, whether or not I'm healthy, whether or not I've performed well . . . none of these things need make me any more or less comfortable in my own skin. Daily, I can choose to let externalities govern my identity, or I can anchor myself in something more secure. Like Joshua, may I be able to say everyday, "As for me . . . "

6. There's more to this world than my little slice of it. I've traveled a fair amount and consider myself relatively open-minded and humble, so you'd think I would understand this already. But there was something about taking a step back from putting my nose to the grindstone every day that freed me to look up and see a whole world out there of people and systems and trends and ideas that I'd never knew existed. It's a sobering and terrifying thought, that there's so much in this world that we'll never know, never experience, never have control over. But such is life: to reject this is either to be ignorant or to fight a losing fight of securing mastery over one's world. To accept it may be terrifying, but it is also, paradoxically, freeing. Especially when you believe in an all-powerful and all-loving God who IS in charge of the world in which you live.

7. I have so much more to learn. The truest kind of wisdom is the kind where, once you've learned it, you don't feel like you've mastered something, and therefore you have less to learn. Rather, it is the kind where, once you've learned it, your eyes are open to brand new arenas you weren't previously aware of, and therefore you have more to learn. I feel that way about my job, the Bible, marriage, relationships, and even myself. For all the time I've had to consider all of these and then some, I feel I know less and need to learn more than when I first started.

Can't wait to see what new lessons God will have for me in 2011, when I take my next sabbatical. Til then, it's back to the grindstone . . . but now, with new wisdom obtained from a satisfactory year off.

WHO KILLED JESUS?

Mel Gibson's new movie, Passion, about the life of Jesus, is causing quite a stir in the media for its alleged anti-Semitism. Seems the Jews are portrayed as a bloodthirsty mob clamouring uncontrollably for Jesus' execution, resurrecting (no pun intended) old sensitivities about the Jews being the killers of the Savior of the Christian world. Which begs the question: who killed Jesus?

To begin with, in my read of the four gospel accounts, I also see a bloodthirsty Jewish mob intent on condemning Jesus to death by crucifixion. What their reasons were, I cannot say I totally know: was it mob mentality, disappointment that this alleged savior wasn't taking on their Roman oppressors, or religious fervor that a mere man would claim to be divine? But they played their part in ramrodding Jesus through a dubious legal proceeding.

What about Pontius Pilate? That Jesus claimed to be King of the Jews and Son of God didn't evoke any feelings in him; he seemed quite puzzled about why the Jews were all in a froth about this plain-looking carpenter. But he had his changes to do right, and instead protected his reputation (and perhaps his personal safety) by doing as the feverish mob desired.

And the Roman soldiers, what is their role in Jesus' death? They were the ones that tortured, mocked, and crucified Jesus. They seemed to relish the ease by which they were bullying around this alleged man of miracles. Surely they played a significant role in the death of Jesus.

Most people in the Christian tradition know that Jesus died for the sins of the world. So do we point a finger at ourselves? For it is because of our sins that Jesus died; if we as humans were somehow able to live sinless lives, would the carpenter from Nazareth need to walk that lonely road to Golgotha? Do we in our sinfulness have Jesus' blood on our hands?

But if you were to ask me point-blank, "Who killed Jesus?", I would not answer with any of those groups above. It wasn't the Jews, or Pontius Pilate, or the Roman soldiers, or even humanity in its sinfulness. I believe that the answer to the question, "Who killed Jesus?" is "God killed Jesus."

The prophet Isaiah prophesied that "the Lord was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief; if He would render Himself as a guilt offering, He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days, and the good pleasure of the LORD will prosper in His hand" (Isaiah 53:10). Not only did God kill Jesus, but He derived a divine pleasure in the act. Does this make God a sadist? Does this mean God hates His Son?

Far from it. Without launching into a lengthy discourse on the mechanics of the gospel message, I believe God most prominently His Name, His Divine Reputation, His Own Holy Character. For man, this would be the epitome of vanity and idolatry; for God, it is the pinnacle of righteousness and truth. He loves His Son, therefore, because Jesus is the physical manifestation of divine gloriousness. And He loved crushing His Son because it perfectly upheld two aspects of God's character: His justice and His mercy.

His justice means that His love for His Own Holy Character cannot tolerate the offense of human sin. To tolerate it in any way would diminish His love for Self. His mercy means that His love for His Own Holy Character overflows in its abundance to sinful humans, not in an insecure way (as if He needed us) but in a way that demonstrates His greatness and magnificence.

To crush His Only Beloved Son was to perform an act that perfectly upheld Divine Justice and Divine Mercy. So it gave Him divine pleasure. Though it was an act that took place 2000 years ago, He is the same perfect God and we the same sinful humans. May we not diminish God by pointing the finger for Jesus' death on Jews, Romans, or ourselves. May we rather ascribe this act to God Himself, appreciate the divine pleasure He derived from this act, and seek to be joined with such a God who is Divinely Happy and who derives divine pleasure when such divine happiness overflows into our lives.

SAINTS, SAVIORS, AND SINNERS

As worldly as most people make the sporting industry to be, it is remarkable how much divinity we inject into it. Especially as it comes to deifying or villifying its major figures. AC Green hs been practically canonized as a saint for going public with his private conviction to not have sex before marriage; LeBron James has been deemed the savior of the stumbling Cavaliers franchise; and Kobe Bryant, former saint and savior, is now being smeared as a sinner for his dalliance in Colorado. ESPN even has a book called "The Gospel According to ESPN: Saints, Saviors, and Sinners."

I guess our desire to put famous people on pedestals (or want to knock them off pedestals) isn't relegated to the sporting world. We do the same with politicians (Bill Clinton, Martin Luther King), entertainers (Eminem, R. Kelly), and even entire organizations (the Catholic Church, Enron). Although our own lives and morals are an uncomfortable shade of grey, we desperately need to categorize our public figures as either all good or all bad.

What if we were to remember that these athletes, politicians, and entertainers were human beings just like you and me? Capable of inspiring acts of heroism as well as dastardly acts of depravity. Just because they are gifted in a way that we are not -- be it throwing a baseball really fast, crafting foreign policy, or singing a melodious tune -- does not embue them with superhuman intelligence, moral discipline, or decision-making ability.

It's comical how impossibly high our expectations are of 22-year-old athletes to speak on behalf of their entire ethnic group, stump for world issues, or make good decisions with their money, time, and discretion. Sure, with greater exposure and resources comes greater responsibility; but do you remember having a clear head and a set of values you were willing to risk unpopularity and condemnation for when you were in your early twenties? Let's hold our public figures to high standards, yes; but let's not make them be either saint, savior, or sinner.

THE MAYOR CAME TO MY NEIGHBORHOOD

So I’m rapping away at my laptop at home this evening, when I hear a familiar voice blaring from a megaphone right outside my window. It’s the mayor of Philadelphia. He’s in the neighborhood pressing the flesh and stumping for the November election. A councilwoman lives a stone’s throw away from us, and so the mayor decided to host a little gathering in her backyard. Which is practically our backyard.

This is what I love about Philly. It’s easily one of the ten biggest cities in the country, and yet it consists of all of these little neighborhoods, which give you a sense of community and belonging that you wouldn’t think possible in the big bad city. Hearing the mayor exhort the crowd with his agenda for the Philadelphia of the future made me feel like I was being transported back in time, to a day when politicians were personable and neighbors gathered to talk shop.

The fact that Philly is big enough to never grow stale yet small enough to seem cozy, cool enough to have a national rep and yet uncool enough to not be a wannabe . . . that’s why Philly suits me just right.

DON'T HAVE TO BE RIGHT TO CAUSE DAMAGE

Our organization is in the middle of a legal situation of which I am unable to share the specifics but which I want to talk about. Basically, there are some accusations being made about us which I believe have no basis in fact. What I am learning, though, as I seek to defuse this situation, is that you don't have to be right to cause damage to another person's or organization's reputation.

The Bible and business books both talk about the importance of a good name. The issue of integrity is an important for me, both personally and vocationally. So it's been interesting to see this legal situation play out, to see how an accusation does not need to be true for it to cause damage to a reputation.

My hope and prayer is that a) we will be able to conclude this legal situation in a manner that is fair, gracious, and decisive, and b) that my organization's brand image will emerge in a favorable light. What saddens me about reality is that securing point a does not automatically ensure point b. But I guess I should know that by now.

WHAT IS BLACK?

Late last week, during our business camp for teen entrepreneurs, I walked over to a table of adolescent boys in the middle of a heated but cordial conversation. I quietly sat down at their table and inquired about the topic of discussion. "He's saying Moses was black," blurted out one of them, as he pointed to the boy on my left. The boy of my left repeated his main points: Moses was dark-skinned and was raised as an Egyptian; ergo, he's black.

I asked the group, "What is black? Is it cultural?" Most heads nodded. "Is it skin color?" Some heads nodded, while others seemed to hedge themselves: "Well, not exactly." "Is it genetics?" On this, even fewer at the table seemed to agree. "Well, what is it, then?" We revisited Moses' story: indeed, he "passed" as an Egyptian, himself being as dark-skinned as an Egyptian. And culturally, he was raised an Egyptian. Did that make him black?

It was quite a treat to discuss such a controversial and complex topic with boys ages 14 and 15 and have it take place at such a high and thoughtful level. I was impressed by the students' Bible knowledge, and their ability to apply it to the issues of race and culture. We concluded our dialogue without much resolution a few minutes later, and they moved onto the next topic: video games. I left the table, happy to have taken part when I did.

A SUCCESSFUL WEEK

We just completed our sixth annual Business Boot Camp, and it was, in my opinion, a smashing success. Imagine 150+ inner city teens giving up a precious week of summer vacation to sit for eight hours a day listening to business lectures, discussing business studies, and presenting business solutions. I got to see it with my own eyes.

Oh sure, there were behavioral issues. We're talking about adolescents here, so there was your fair share of love notes being passed; mock and real fights; and much too much shuffling around, slumping over, and jabbering while a speaker was speaking. Too often, I found myself policing the "no eating or drinking during the formal program" rule, to the detriment of my own ability to listen to and learn from our speakers.

But I prayed almost every morning that God would give me the ability to let go of the successes and mistakes of the previous day of camp, to let go of the anticipation and anxiety of the upcoming day of camp, and to simply be in the present. To enjoy the moment, to enjoy each young person who was with us for what seemed like an eternity this week but looking back will be merely a sliver of time in our lives.

And God answered. Every once in a while, when I had a millisecond between disciplining an unruly participant and getting something ready for the next activity, I would look around. And seeing a sea of eager teens soaking in business knowledge and preparing themselves for future success, I would smile and remind myself why I got into this kind of work in the first place.

MALE PRIVILEGE

In no particular order, here are the hidden perks of being a man, which I resolve not to take for granted and which I resolve to lobby on behalf of women to get as well:

1. My leagues aren't called "the Men's National Basketball Association" or the "Men's Professional Golf Association," they're simply NBA and PGA.

2. When I raise my voice or get picky about something, people usually compliment me for being assertive, rather than calling me a bitch.

3. I can sleep in public places (airport lobby, park bench, library) without being afraid that I'll be sexually assaulted.

4. I can participate in a meeting or express an opinion without people imposing on me the burden of my opinion representing the opinion of everyone in my gender.

5. In corporate settings, I don't have to first prove that I belong before people respect me.

6. I can dress sharp without anyone insinuating that I'm using looks or sex to get what I want.

7. I can accept compliments without strings, rather than being told that I'm "a good (whatever) . . . for a man."

8. I can get emotional without being looked down on for letting my hormones get the best of me.

9. I can go jogging outdoors without having to carry mace.

10. I can choose either to participate in or not participate in sexually suggestive joking, without feeling like an outsider.

11. No one ever thinks I didn't deserve the job (or promotion or contract) but that I got it because I'm a man.

12. I can have a private meeting with someone of the opposite sex without having to worry about making sure that I do not put myself in a situation where I might be physically overpowered by her.

13. If I'm a workaholic, hardly anyone looks down on me for neglecting my family.

14. When I hear about a sexual assault in the news, I'm not seized with fear that that could've been me.

15. I'm not subconsciously looked down on for not conforming to the impossible figures of people on TV.