THE BIBLE IN EARTH TONES

Last week, I began reading through Eugene Peterson’s translation of the New Testament. Entitled “The Message,” it is the New Testament translated into contemporary English. It has been a fun read so far.

But far from seeing this read as a diversion from the more serious translations of the Bible, I am trying to recapture the feel of the original version. After all, the New Testament was written in the everyday language of the day, not the stiffer version used by scholars. And lest we forget, the King James Version, when it was first produced, was intended to make the Bible accessible to the common person, as all other translations were in a Latin form only understandable by professional clergy.

It’s a shame that all of the other translations of the Bible besides Eugene Peterson’s are considered scholarly and stuffy, and that when we contemporarize Biblical stories and lessons we are often accused of watering down the Bible. The original Bible was a lot earthier than we realize. May we as 21st century Bible readers capture that earthiness, and broadcast it to those around us, who may be turned off by a stuffy tome but may be spoken to in an earthier tone.

CUSTOMER SERVICE, CALIFORNIA STYLE

I experienced a bit of culture shock yesterday at the Blockbuster. My wife and I are in California visiting my family over the holidays. We decided to rent a couple of movies. But when I got home and popped one of the cases open, I noticed that there was a disc missing from a two-disc set. So I made plans to head back to the Blockbuster to fix the situation.

As I neared the store, I went over in my head all of the possible scenarios. I feared they’d think I lifted the disc, or that they would shrug their shoulders, or that they’d find that second disc but do it in a huff. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let any of those things happen, and, putting my meanest face on, strutted into the store.

“Yeah, I rented this movie, and when I got home I noticed there was a disc missing,” I said in my most annoyed voice possible. I braced for a fight.

“Oh, look at that! We’re so sorry, sir. Let me get that fixed for you right away.”

Come again? The young man was nice, apologetic, and prompt. A minute later, he had found another set of my movie, rang it up, and apologized again as I left the store. I was a little stunned, not sure what to make of such a positive customer service experience. Not to cap on Philly too much, but it had been awhile since I’d be so nicely treated by someone behind a counter.

Coincidentally, this morning in my personal Bible study time I read from the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus talks about how we ought to love our enemy and turn the other cheek. Christians are to be different, seems to be His point; anyone can love their friend and return good for good, but the Christian is to be peculiar in this world with her kindness and generosity. Perhaps the retail corollary to this profound lesson is: distinguish yourself by how you treat upset customers. Even those who are trying to have their mean face on.

PHILADELPHIA, THIRD-WORLD CITY?

I’m reading an interesting book that explores if and how cultural values influence economic growth and social progress. One of the authors contrasts characteristics of healthy economies (order, hard-working people, openness to innovation) with declining ones (corruption, political favors, dependency mindset). These attitudes are both cause and effect. If they were just cause, you’d be arguing that some cultures are inferior to others when it comes to achieving economic progress, and that’s an unpopular and inflammatory point to make.

You’d also be at least half-wrong. Stagnant economies are not only caused by this kind of behavior but also help create this kind of behavior. For when the pie is shrinking it’s about getting as big of a piece as possible, even and especially at the expense of someone else, not about working together to make the pie bigger.

This contrast had me thinking immediately of Philadelphia. The perception about our city is that we are beholden to special interests. The reality is that we are a city on the rise, but sometimes I wonder if our leaders believe this. Their behavior, which consists of side deals and looking out for their own, seems to suggest so.

Whether perception or reality, bad things happen when a city’s economic engines are gummed up by political deals and rampant corruption. The people benefiting from the status quo don’t want things to change; after all, they’re benefiting from the status quo. People trying to the kinds of things that are good for a city, like start businesses and play fair and welcome newcomers, get fed up and leave. And those who were thinking about moving in decide not to.

The last one hundred years have proven that capitalism works, in terms of stimulating economic growth. Those nations who have embraced it and who have acted in ways to foster it have flourished, while those nations who have shunned it and who have acted in ways to impede it have languished. These principles of market-driven policies and social mobility and free flow of goods apply to the health and well-being of cities, too. In this regard, will Philadelphia be a city on the rise or a city on the decline?

TOP TEN LIES TOLD BY MADISON AVENUE THIS SEASON

When it comes to advertising, I wouldn’t consider myself a prude. I didn’t have a problem with the T.O. / Desperate Housewives spot a few weeks ago, and in fact found it quite clever, although upon further review the acting of both Terrell Owens and Nicolette Sheridan could be considered offensive.

But so far this holiday season, I have had to roll my eyes at the subtle and not-so-subtle messages being pitched to us during commercials. It would be even funnier if it wasn’t deadly, these lies and half-truths. Here are some of the messages we’re taking in and allowing our children to take in (in no particular order):

1. Asians, at least the ones LeBron James encounters, are mysterious and/or sinister.

2. Getting a car for Christmas is not out of the ordinary.

3. Gift-giving is all about making the other person feel bad that they didn’t get you as nice of a gift as you got them.

4. If you drink beer, hot women will want to have sex with you.

5. In households with teenage children, dads are squares and moms are the cool ones.

6. It’s all about the shoes.

7. Real men drive big, rugged cars.

8. Shiny diamonds are the best way to demonstrate fidelity to your wife.

9. Your choice of alcohol is the number one determinant of how happening your social life is.

10. Your woman will love you more if you buy her expensive jewelry.

PREPARING FOR A SPECIAL BABY

I’ve spent my vacation so far working on a variety of house projects in preparation for bringing our adopted child home from China. Even though it’s likely going to be nine months until this happens, I figured I’d make the most of this week of no work and no school. So I’ve been scraping old paint and sanding rugged walls and organizing various rooms.

It finally occurred to me, barely six days before Christmas but a full four weeks since the Christmas music began in earnest, that this is a season about preparing for a special baby. While I’ve been a little miffed with the recent uproar I’ve heard from Christians in this country about reclaiming this season for Jesus – there are other religious holidays and family observances going on other than those of the Christian faith, folks – it is true that this time of year hold special significance for those who follow Jesus.

It is not likely that Jesus’ birthday was December 25th, or even close to it. And yet it is good this time of year to reflect on the birth of our Savior, the scandalous arrival of God Incarnate into our world. So as I scurry about getting our house and our lives ready for our baby, may I remember to make room in my heart to prepare for another special baby.

ONE-WAY TICKET

Well, we’ve done what we can on our side re: adoption paperwork. Now it’s bouncing around the country getting certifications and authentications, hopefully en route to China where they will look to find a match for us. We’re so excited.

As I was reviewing the fee sheet, I noticed one line that said, “One-way ticket for baby.” It brought a tear to my eye; our daughter will be flying one-way from her country of birth to her new country of citizenship. What a journey that will be for her.

It reminded me of another one-way ticket in our family. In college, I remember a holiday break that I went home to reconnect with my family. I asked my mom what it was like to move to America to go to grad school, knowing that she was leaving home and probably starting a new life here. Mom, being a person of few words, simply said, “I bought a one-way ticket.”

That was in the 1960’s. Forty years later, another Huang family member will be buying one, too.

GOD WANTS IT ALL

A business colleague of mine who I respect runs a restaurant here in Philadelphia. She is very generous and innovative. The restaurant business being as tough as it is, hers probably ekes out a $20,000 profit on sales of $4 million at the end of the year, once she’s done paying everyone including herself. You could take a tenth of that and give it to a variety of charities, which in fact she does.

But in the process of making that $20,000, she spends another $3,980,000 per year on stuff: raw materials, decorations, salaries, etc. So her philanthropic focus isn’t on the $20,000 but on the $3,980,000: how can she hire people who really need jobs, buy produce from poor farmers, and make sure her facility is environmentally friendly. She realizes as a small business that what counts isn’t how generous you are with your profits at the end of the day, but how progressive you are with your operations throughout the day.

And so it is, I believe, with our Christian discipleship. God doesn’t just want us to give our 10% (and by the way, I do believe we ought to give our 10%); he wants to know what we’re doing with the other 90%. Are we being good stewards of our whole budgets, and not just of the tenth we offer? I must say in terms of strategic allocations of financial resources, I am lazier with my overall budget, which is nine times larger than what I give to charitable causes. That’s like doing a bunch of research on which car to buy, and then casually buying a house without a second thought.

But I think this lordship principle also applies to our time. Christianity isn’t just giving God our best at church and in Bible study. Even if we’re really active in those things, there is about nine times more time that we give to other things: work, most notably, but also social activities, community service, and entertainment. Have we given those times to God, too, to redeem for His purpose? Or is that time and energy spent on trivial, meaningless, and even detrimental things? How can we say we are seeking for God’s kingdom, for example, no matter how active we are at church and in Bible study, when we give five times more time to a job that means nothing for the Kingdom?

Please do not read my rantings as a dis on secular vocations. What I am actually arguing for is to redeem those secular vocations. You can be a IT geek, businessman, lawyer, or janitor for Jesus. The problem is not in the jobs we are selecting per se, but in our inability to surrender them to God.

Jesus saved his harshest words for pious hypocrites who looked good in the religious gatherings but whose lives were relatively empty of true Christian discipleship. My restaurateur colleague understood that she could make her biggest impact not through her profits but through her operations. I hope we Christians can all understand that the whole of our budgets and the whole of our lives is nine times more than what we typically allocate to Jesus. O that we’d surrender the whole of our budgets and the whole of our lives to Him.

IN HONOR OF GLENN

One of my best friends passed away this week. My body and mind are numb with emotion. In honor of my friend, I am posting a copy of the remarks I made at the funeral this morning.

***

One of the first things my wife said earlier this week when I told her the terrible news was to say, “Well, Jesus must have really wanted him.” And while I have never doubted that fact and have found comfort in that good news, I must admit that my first response to my wife’s comments was to think, “Well, Jesus might want him but I need him.” I miss my friend Glenn.

The best way to describe what Glenn meant to me is to say that he was my emergency contact. There is a card in my wallet that says, “If found, and I am in any kind of trouble, call Glenn.” And in fact, I myself called on Glenn a lot when I was in trouble. Many of you know that my wife had some significant medical issues in the recent past. There was a time when I feared I might lose her, and I called on Glenn a lot during that time. He was always there, to pray and to listen and sometimes what I needed most was a hug and he would hug me. Once, I was out of town on business, and Amy needed to go to the ER. She knew she could call on Glenn. Glenn took her to the ER and sat with her to make sure she was OK, and then he called me to make sure I was OK. That’s the kind of friend Glenn was to me.

I think I can speak for everyone here when I say I feel I have lost a big part of my life with Glenn’s passing. This week, my life has felt emptier because I am missing my friend. What I remind myself of, and I want to remind all of you too, is that while we might feel empty today, because we have known Glenn our lives are fuller. And isn’t that the mark of a good man, that he makes the lives of others fuller? Glenn was a good man, and my life, all of our lives, are fuller for it.

At the viewing, I slipped an envelope into the casket. In it was a scorecard of fifteen sins we used to work through when we met weekly to pray. As accountability partners, we would take turns asking each other if we had engaged in any of these fifteen sins during the previous week. We met like this weekly for over five years. We used to joke that in heaven, we would continue to meet for accountability, only neither of us would have anything to confess; we’d all go oh-fer-fifteen. So in honor of Glenn, I put in his casket a scorecard of sins that is completely blank. As long as I’m alive, my scorecard will continue to have sins all over it. But for the rest of eternity, Glenn will always go oh-fer-fifteen.

OUR BRUSH WITH THE FINER LIFE

Our youth program received a grant from a young executive’s group last month, and as part of the award I got invited to a check presentation at a posh club in downtown Philadelphia this past week. I asked if I could bring along some of the students whose businesses this money is going to be invested in, and was given the green light. I immediately convened my group of six young entrepreneurs and told them about the award and about the reception. I stressed the importance of dressing up and playing the part that by the next class, when I brought up the event as a reminder they were urging each other to dress and act right.

The day of the reception came. Four of the six dressed up, while the other two weren’t in horrible attire but were wearing sneakers. I threw them a muted look of disapproval and assembled the group to head out. I passed out subway tokens and we walked the block to the station and got on. My boss and another staff member were also waiting at the same station. I brushed up to them as they saw as saunter towards them and said, “We’re going to the Pyramid Club, where are you going?” They were heading to a pretty posh party themselves. They were pleased to see my students – well, at least most of them – dressed nice and ready to swim in the world of grown-ups.

We arrived downtown and made our way to the skyscraper where the reception was being held. We rode the special elevator to the 52nd floor, as the students snickered the whole time up about how their ears were popping. (I wondered then if they had ever been in a building this tall.)

The elevator brought us, as it were, to a whole new world: quiet music, gilded floors, and lots of grown-ups dressed quite formally. I checked myself in first and then herded my students to the sign-in table. The registration people told me the two that were wearing sneakers would most likely not get in because of the club’s strict dress code. I was escorted into the party and asked to look for one and then another person in charge. Neither seemed to think they would be able to let the sneakered students in. So I came back out to the students, who were waiting patiently but anxiously for the word. I told the two students in sneakers that they’d have to go home. While I felt bad, I knew this too was part of the education.

Now down to a party of five, we made our way into the reception. I immediately met a couple of people I knew, greeted them, and then introduced them to my students. To varying degrees, they settled into their practiced sales pitches and spoke about themselves and their new ventures. One student pulled me aside and told me she was nervous. “There are lots of adults here, and I’m kind of scared.” I assured her she was doing well and told her she would begin to feel more comfortable once she got into the mix of things.

We found our way into the middle of the reception area, found some food to munch on, and eventually found seats at a table. There, the students seemed to settle in even more; perhaps the early nerves had worn off, and sitting around a table seemed an easier way to converse than standing in the middle of a crowded room. I took one of the students around the floor for a tour of the whole club, and told him that business professionals will often join clubs to have places and times like this to entertain clients and to network. He followed me wide-eyed, taking in the gorgeous views of the city, the many posh rooms, and the ornate decorations.

I got to say a few words after our check was presented to us, and I used the stage to acknowledge my students and invite people to get to know them. Afterwards, we posed for pictures and I figured at that point we’d all want to go home. After all, it was a school night, and it was now past seven. Sure enough, one of my students tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Is it time to go?” I was feeling guilty already for keeping them out late, so I was about to respond to him with a “Yes, let’s get everyone rounded up and let’s head out.”

But before I could respond, he followed up his question with a “Because I’d really like to stay for longer.” I looked at the other three students, and they all seemed to be settling in, having the time of their lives. So we stayed. They regaled in sampling good food, trading business cards and networking with others at the party, and visiting the dessert stations. They couldn’t get over the view of the entire city from this tall skyscraper in the middle of downtown. The next thing you know, it was eight and cell phones were starting to ring, as parents were calling to ask their children to get home.

We headed back to West Philadelphia via subway. A couple of the students remarked that we were getting lots of stares and snickerings from various riders, who were teasing the students for being dressed up. “Ignorant” was what one of the students called it. We made it back to our station and disbursed from there. I’m sure these guys will remember their visit to the Pyramid Club for a long, long time.

INDEPENDENTLY HAPPY

Please don’t consider me shallow or think that I dislike my job when I say this, but lately I’ve been wishing I was independently wealthy. It’s not that I don’t like my work or work in general, it’s just that it would be awfully nice to sleep in, go for long runs, watch the Eagles game, get more involved at church, and visit museums. And send my personal assistant to buy Christmas gifts and go food shopping.

I shared these pinings with one of my close friends. He is good at being my voice of reason (even and especially when that involves literally knocking that sense into me). He replied, “Ah, but wealth does not necessarily guarantee happiness.” I know this to be true. In fact, with money sometimes comes more problems, not less. Like in the Puffy song, “The more money we come across, the problems we see.”

It got me thinking, though: am I independently happy? And I had to admit to myself and my friend that I am not. My happiness is so dependent on so many things. Not to say that we should strive for the other end of the spectrum and become total stoics, neither rejoicing in great highs nor lamenting great lows. The Christian life is not one of stoicism, but one of emotion.

And yet, I believe that those who profess to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ should enjoy some level of independent happiness. As the old hymn goes, we know that whatever befalls us, Jesus walks with us and does well in leading us. So there ought to be a rootedness in our relationship with Jesus that allows us to enjoy a deep level of happiness, independent of the many trials and seasons of life that we undergo.

I do not often experience that rootedness. My happiness is highly dependent on things that change like Jeannie Zelasko’s hairstyle on Fox Baseball. (Sorry, low blow. I actually like her.) If the weather is good, if the Raiders won, if I catch the subway right on time . . . such insignificant things can mean the difference between a countenance that soars and one that flops. For someone who considers himself somewhat deep, I am awfully and embarrassingly shallow.

The very first psalm gives us the imagery of trees planted by water, whose roots are deep and whose trunks are thick. And so it is with the Christian whose relationship with Jesus is solid. I may never be independently wealthy, no matter how hard I try or how lucky I am. But if I invest in my spiritual roots, I can one day enjoy independent happiness. And as my wise friend would tell me, that’s a richer life.