Paul Kim, A Role Model

I don't watch American Idol, but I was pointed in the direction of
contestant Paul Kim, who hails from the Bay Area and apparently has a
smokin' voice. I appreciated his comments about wanting to represent
Asian America on the same stage that William Hung had previously made
his presence known to the national consciousness. His stated desire
was to offer to viewers another, alternative Asian persona to the
stereotyped one William Hung represented.

This is why I think Charles Barkley and Lucy Liu have it wrong and why
the discussion of whether Barack Obama is really black is so darn
interesting. Paul Kim realizes that, whether he himself desires to
represent Asian America, the fact that he is Asian American means that
viewers will associate his persona with Asian America. And he takes
seriously that there's some responsibility, then, to present something
different and better than what had previously and narrowly been
presented on that stage.

Charles Barkley and Lucy Liu, on the other hand, believe that being a
role model is something we decide solely as individuals, rather than
have foisted upon us. Charles Barkley didn't want the burden of young
kids looking up to him, and Lucy Liu wondered aloud why she had to
necessarily represent the Asian American perspective. And while it is
true that our burden and perspective is more than one aspect of who we
are - for Charles Barkley being a basketball player and for Lucy Liu
being an Asian-American - it is also true that wherever we go, we are
representing not only ourselves but also the groups people associate
us with.

Is it fair to place upon young athletes and public stars such a
responsibility? On the one hand, just because you can run fast or are
really pretty doesn't make you any more or less qualified to be an
ambassador or a saint. On the other hand, if you're in the public
eye, you're speaking for more than just yourself, and should speak and
act accordingly.

Which, again, is why the hub-bub about whether Barack Obama is really
black is so darn interesting to me, because it and he are the nexus of
the extent to which culture is define internally vs. externally, and
acknowledging the diversity of external opinions about the same person
or persons. And which is, again, why I appreciate Paul Kim being
willing to step up and say, "Like it or not, when people see me, they
see an Asian-American, so I best represent Asian America
appropriately, particularly in light of stereotype-reinforcing
representations that people tuned into this space have been bombarded
with."

Low Battery

My cell phone battery has been low of late. And because I'm not much
of a gabber, the real explanation is that I haven't praying a lot
lately.

Let me elaborate. My cell phone is in my pocket all day. At night,
it's by my bedside, in case of emergency phone calls and also to serve
as my alarm. So the only time I recharge it is first thing in the
morning, when I sit at my desk to read my Bible and pray.

For the last week or so, I've been sick, so I've been sleeping in
until the last possible minute. So the time slot I'm used to using to
pray, I've been fellowshipping with Pastor Pillow and Deacon Dozer at
the Church of the Holy Comforter.

So my cell phone battery has been low of late. And the irony strikes
me, for prayer is akin to recharging oneself spiritually. Just as a
cell phone plugs into a source for energy, so are we to bask in the
presence of the Almighty to receive spiritual rejuvenation. Jesus
uses another "plug-in" analogy when he calls himself "the Vine" and us
the branches, closing that thought with the statement: "Apart from Me
you can do nothing."

Like a cell phone that's lost its juice. So sick or no, I really
ought to be getting back to plugging in in the morning.

Re: Psychoanalyzing My Hatred of Being Sick

> I hate being sick. Not that others love it, but I really, truly hate
> it. It doesn't help that I'm probably wimpier than others in terms of
> gutting things out when I'm feeling under the weather, but I don't
> think it's just that. I just don't like being sick.
>
> Yet I'm always mindful when I am sick that perhaps there is a lesson
> from God in all this. As the Psalmist sings, "It is good for me that
> I was afflicted, that I may learn Your statues" (Psalm 119:71). I am
> realizing that what I hate about being sick is not being able to
> go-go-go at the pace I'm used to. I'm tough enough that, even if I
> wasn't feeling well, I could still do 70% of what I usually do and at
> 70% proficiency: go to work, be social, tend to things around the
> house.
>
> It's that other 30%, though, that I hate not being able to do:
> exercise, wake up early, pack my schedule, doing everything 30% less
> than the very best. And being sick exposes those things as idols,
> things I'm not OK giving up, even for a few days. The Bible is clear
> that God detests idolatry, and is equally clear that even good things
> can become idols. Like taking care of my body, or making the most of
> my waking hours, or doing my very best.
>
> That's why I get so irritable, so impatient, so flustered when I get
> sick. Because I know I am without the things that define me, and will
> be without them for at least a few days. Perhaps I should be grateful
> for being exposed, grateful for the opportunity to "fast" from the
> good things I've turned into idols, grateful still for the chance to
> reconnect to the One who alone deserves to be God in my life.
>
> And then, Lord, will You help me feel better?
>

Rest is a Faithful Choice

Partly because I'm inherently curious, and partly because I'm a
consultant, I am a ravenous consumer of information. Whether it's
reading books, attending events, or checking out websites, I max out.
For me, it's important to stay informed, so I can add value to my
clients, offer insight to my friends, and enjoy the richness that is
life.

There's a whole movement of pastors who are revered for their
understanding of post-modern culture, and while they know way more
about secular stuff than I'll ever know about spiritual stuff, their
perspective doesn't impress me as much as the lack of that perspective
by other pastors frightens me. I mean, how can you expect to
represent if you don't know anything about the context in which you're
representing?

But this lead-up is all just a counter-balance to what I really want
to say, which is that we Christians have to faithfully and
intentionally choose to rest. There's always more we can do and more
we can learn and more we can listen and more we can understand. Rest
isn't what happens when you're done with all that, it's a specific act
we undertake, even at the expense of not doing and not learning and
not listening and not understanding.

I took a trip to New York last week that involved two connections. On
the first, I was in a car of blue-collar workers commuting to their
factory jobs. One the second, I was in a car of upper-class folks
visiting the Big Apple. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their
conversations, and even in the short time we were together, I learned
a little something about their sub-cultures from the topics they
discussed, the tones in their voice, the pace and mood of their
exchanges.

As I got off the train, I thought to myself that I had previously
considered myself a fairly connected person in terms of being able to
understand a lot of different kinds of people. I realized instead
that I was pretty sheltered, that my life had narrowed down to a
smaller set of sub-cultures, and that any others I didn't naturally
rub shoulders with I was slowly drifting away from in terms of being
able to understand what was important to them and what life consisted
of for them and, ultimately, what it would mean for them to have a
personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

In other words, a simple train ride revealed to me a huge area of
information that I was remarkably ignorant about. To the extent that
we are any sort of level of open-mindedness, this is what life will do
to you: show you just how much you don't know. And this, from someone
who feels he rubs up against a pretty diverse set of people, and who
prides himself on reading up on a wide variety of topics and cultures.

There's just so much I don't know. And I can respond to this fact by
jamming my information consumption into hyper-drive, reading more
books and attending more events and checking out more websites. Or I
can remember that we are commanded to rest, to be comfortable with our
human limits and to trust our all-knowing God to direct us to the
people and areas and topics where we can be of use to the Kingdom.

You can probably see that I have a problem with Christians who are
disengaged from the world, who make assumptions about the people and
cultures around them without taking the time to truly connect with
those people and cultures. You can probably also see that I am
challenging myself and others to not always be in
information-gathering mode, to make the faithful choice to rest,
knowing that while it may be true in some secular sense that while we
are on the sidelines others are "getting ahead," it is more profoundly
true that as we entrust ourselves in rest to God, He will exalt us.

Some days the tension of those two points above thrills me. Other
days it exasperates me. Today it drove me to blab on my blog.

Transit Takes You to the Unexpected

One of my bosses is a huge transit user and advocate, both here in
town and when he goes elsewhere for business or pleasure. He's fond
of saying that what's fun about work or vacation is usually related to
something that wasn't planned, and exploring transit is a sure-fire
way to experience the unexpected.

While his remarks are usually in the context of trying out transit
systems in other cities, I had two such moments today right here in my
own city. First, I had a meeting downtown that was a good six blocks
away from the closest subway stop - an easy walk in normal
circumstances, but complicated by the fact that there was about four
inches of slushy snow everywhere and it was frigidly cold. (And I was
feeling a little under the weather.)

I knew when I got off at the City Hall stop that there was a maze of
underground passageways that connected various entrances and exits
back to the ground level, but I wasn't sure how close they'd get me to
my destination. But I figured I'd do a little exploring. I kept
heading in the general direction of my meeting, hoping the corridor
would extend further so I could minimize my time above ground. I kept
going and going, and going some more, until I finally reached the end
of the underground tunnels - less than a block away from my meeting!
I took the same route home, cutting my time above ground from twelve
blocks to barely one.

That evening, I told my wife I'd pick up our daughter from day care,
reasoning that it was an ordeal for me to get our daughter to day care
that morning in the snow and so I didn't want to subject my wife to
such an arduous journey. Plus, since day care is past home from work,
I figured I could either trudge home for twenty minutes and let my
wife trudge ten minutes to day care and ten minutes back to home, or I
could take an easy transit ride to day care and trudge ten minutes
back to home, and my wife could stay home and not have to bear the
nasty weather.

There are four trolley lines that pass my workplace, and one of them
goes right past our day care. Unfortunately, that line pulled out
just as I got to the trolley stop. Not wanting to wait for four more
trolleys to come by, I decided to take the next one because it took me
only slightly further away from day care. This line happens to cut
right through the big park in our neighborhood, which has a huge
grassy area that is sunk down a good twenty feet below the street
level. So as we passed through this park, I saw countless kids
sledding down the slopes in a variety of contraptions. With the
gently falling sleet and the snow-tipped trees, the whole scene was
gloriously beautiful.

This actually wasn't that great of a day for me: I'm not feeling good,
being outside even for a few minutes was tortuous, and the cumbersome
trek to and from day care I'd like to forget. But, because of
transit, I had two unexpected moments here in the city. And that made
today kind of special.

Interesting Old Economists

I didn't remember buying this book when I ripped open the shipment
from the online book store last month, and I remember earlier this
week second-guessing whether I should have brought it on my day trip
to New York or if I would be better served with a more interesting
book. But there I was on the train, having finished everything else
I'd brought to read, and now holding a collection of essays about
economists from Adam Smith to Gary Becker. Probably not anywhere near
what anyone else on the train was into at the time.

I decided to dive in anyway, and was pleasantly surprised to be
quickly engrossed in the essays. The viewpoints were fairly
conservative, so I found myself agreeing with most everything that was
written. I appreciated learning more about big names I've heard of
before (Friedman, Coase) but more so finding out about more
non-mainstream giants who came up with some pretty sound and witty
stuff. Allow me to share two nuggets, the first from Henry Hazlitt
and the second from Frederic Bastiat.

Hazlitt has this thing called the Broken Windows Fallacy, in which he
talks about a hoodlum who breaks a baker's window, causing the baker
to have to pay the glazier $250 to replace the window. Someone in the
crowd comments that this incident makes the glazier $250 richer, which
he can then use to enrich others in the local economy, thus rippling
the positive effects further outward. That hoodlum, then, could be
seen as a public benefactor, catalyzing a positive impact on the whole
economy.

Fallacy, of course, and how Hazlitt puts it is that because the baker
has to pay the glazier $250 to replace a window that was just fine
before the hoodlum arrived, the baker doesn't get to pay the tailor
$250 for a new suit. Without the hoodlum, the baker is out $250 but
has a new suit; with the hoodlum, the baker is just out $250.

Sounds intuitive, I know, but how many times did we hear otherwise
intelligent people talking about how Katrina was good for the economy
because it created all this construction activity that had a
multiplier effect to other industries. The book mentions an older
reference, that of then Vice President Al Gore talking about how the
1992 floods in the Midwest would lead to new jobs created for
rebuilding.

The conservative point in all this, as I've made before, is that if
government takes taxpayer money to create jobs, that's not net new
jobs, because that taxpayer money, if left in the pockets of
taxpayers, might have created that same number of jobs or even more.
A reasonable fact that we easily forget when politicians are wooing us
with their boasts of job creation programs they've funded or plan to
fund under their administration.

The second nugget, from Bastiat, I'll just quote verbatim from his
satire entitled "The Petition of the Candlemakers": "We are suffering
from the ruinous competition of a foreign rival who apparently works
under conditions so far superior to our own for the production of
light that he is flooding the domestic market with it at an incredibly
low price; from the moment he appears, our sales cease, all the
consumers turn to him . . . This rival . . . is none other than the
sun."

Bastiat's article goes on to petition the government to pass laws
requiring that all windows be closed so as to block out the sun and
give the candlemakers special protection. Hilarious stuff.

The conservative point that was made out of all this is this
fallacious notion that we're poorer as a country if we outsource all
of our low-skill stuff to other countries, and that the solution then
is protectionism. What that argument is missing is the gain our
economy accrues by, having outsourced the easy stuff, being able to
shift our resources to harder stuff that can make us all richer.

Listen, I don't dispute that there's a role for government to play in
terms of juicing the economy or protecting the economy. I just think
the arguments people employ to defend those positions is illogical,
and thus it leads to solutions that don't actually achieve what their
defenders desire. I'm glad I took my boring economics essays to New
York with me so I could learn about two other obscure economists who
agreed with me, and who articulated those points in far more clever
ways.

What is Worship

Say the word "worship" and the typical Christian thinks of singing
songs to God about God. One believer might think of reverent hymns
and another of rockin' jams, but worship to both is equal to singing
songs.

But the first use of the word "worship" in the Bible is of Abraham
telling his men to wait for him while he went up the mountain to
sacrifice his son. In his book "Come Together and Worship," Max
Lucado writes that if there was no other mention of the word "worship"
in the Bible, we'd already have enough to know what worship is: giving
God the biggest part of our life.

Abraham's son, of course, was not only his own flesh and blood but the
very thing through whom God's great promises were to be fulfilled. In
Abraham's culture, there was no greater blessing than to have lots of
descendants, and in his old age, while he was yet childless, Abraham
received a promise from God that he would have countless descendants.

When at the ripe old age of 99, Isaac came along, Abraham must have
naturally assumed he was the down payment on a multitude of
descendants to come. So when God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son,
Abraham's obedient response - which he described as "worship" to his
men - was indeed to give God the biggest part of his life.

It is my hope for my own life and for the life of the church universal
and global that "worship" is expanded in our minds to mean more than
singing songs to God, but that it is a call to give God the biggest
parts of our lives. God will be more pleased, our own souls more
enriched, and the world around us more moved, if "worship" is more
than something we do with our voices and instruments, but is a daily
giving over of ourselves and our deepest longings to One who is worthy
of all of that and more.

The Great Transaction

In our attempt to make more palatable the Christian message for the
unchurched (or for the one who has been "too churched," for that
matter), we can tend to gloss over the actual, technical mechanics of
the salvation of souls. Words like "propitiation" and "atonement"
seem hopelessly old-school, guaranteed to frighten away even the most
earnest of seekers and label us among the modern cynics as
old-fashioned and dogmatic.

But those salvation mechanics, of course, are at the heart of God's
dealing with man. We fail to grasp both God's incredible zeal to
defend His great and righteous reputation and our incredible flouting
of that reputation when we live in our sinful ways. God is glorious,
and He makes His gloriousness available for us to bask in; and when we
choose to glory in other things, we offend Him greatly.

The reconciliation of God's vigor to uphold His Name and God's tender
love for the very people who besmirch that Name is that great
transaction on the cross, when God's own Son, Jesus of Nazareth, took
upon Himself the punishment due us. In that great transaction, God
demonstrated both the cost of offending His righteousness and the cost
He was willing to pay to save us to Himself.

And, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, God was "pleased to bruise
His Son." The Son the Bible says God loves to the nth was the very
Son God was pleased to bruise. You see, this transaction was not
something God was forced into, something He resigned Himself to,
something He begrudgingly did. God found pleasure, even in bruising
His own Son, because it was the zenith of His defense of His Name and
His compassion for a people who, while before had marred that Name ,
would forevermore praise it.

Others have explained this great transaction more eloquently than I,
but I think I've gotten the gist of it here. And if you find this all
hopelessly antiquated or even offensive, I'm sorry to hear that. But
that's the gospel truth.

The Cost of Playing Football For a Living

Did you hear there's a football game on tonight? The Super Bowl is
one of the world's most-watched events, and the NFL one of the world's
leading form of entertainment.

But football is also a profession for an elite group of men, and while
it can be lucrative for those lucky few, it can also be costly. Just
today, I read two articles in the sports section, one on the meager
pension old-time footballers receive and another on a more recent
player's ordeal of having to play through post-concussion syndrome.

Even for those who make it to the League, the average career length is
something like four years. And the wear and tear their bodies endure
- all in the name of providing us with something exciting to watch on
Sunday afternoon - cripples almost every player in some way. Imagine
retiring from your profession in your mid-thirties and having a
diminished quality of life for the next thirty to fifty years because
of the injuries you sustained from that profession.

It can be hard to sympathize with such players when convicted felons
(remember Rae Carruth?) and prima donnas (hello, TO!) are counted
among them. Just remember tonight when you're watching the game that
these guys are basically putting on a show for you - a violent, brutal
show whose bruises and bumps they'll be feeling for most of the rest
of their lives.

Thin Coat Movement

While I pride myself on at least attempting to bring some substance to
this space, every once in a while you have to post something random
and trivial. So today's post is devoted to my contribution to the
thin coat movement.

I just Googled "thin coat movement" and found no hits, so perhaps
there is no movement at all. But I read a few years back about folks
who had foregone heavy coats during the winter, reasoning that they
weren't outside very long and that once inside, a heavy coat became a
liability. Plus all that warmth and sweating, going back and forth
from cold to hot, made for ripe conditions for catching colds.

So I've tried to go this winter with just a thin black jacket from Old
Navy that my wife bought for me last fall. And so far, it's worked.
The longest I'm outside is the twenty-minute walk to work, and at the
brisk pace I keep, I'm glad I'm not weighed down by a heavy coat.
This logic is even more compelling when I'm on bike - who wants to
brave the bitter cold pedaling like a madman while wearing a bulky
jacket?

So there you have it: an inane, rambly, and meaningless post about one
man's contribution to the thin coat movement. Hopefully, the blog
muse will visit me soon with something of more substance.