Love Boat

A couple of handful of friends of mine are reunioning in California to commemorate the 15th anniversary of our time together on "the Love Boat."  Not the chintzy 80's show, but a Taiwanese cultural study tour that as developed a reputation for being a bit of a "meet market," if you will. 

I had signed up to go after my freshman year in college, looking forward at first to meeting lots of pretty Taiwanese girls.  But by the time it was time to go, my Christian faith had deepened and I felt a stronger urge to treat the summer as a missions trip of sorts.  I wondered and prayed about finding others who were feeling the same way.

It didn't take long for God to answer my prayer.  On the plane ride to Taiwan, the guy sitting next to me pointed at my Penn InterVarsity T-shirt and told me he was involved in that Christian organization's Berkeley group, and that another guy from that group was also on the plane.  One of their roommates in Taiwan ended up being a Christian and wanted in on our group, and we picked up two others through other various connections.

And so the six of us, though we ended up running in slightly different circles throughout the six-week tour, met almost nightly to pray for each other and for others whom we had engaged in on spiritual matters.  I can't tell you how enlivening it was to live the whole day with one thing on your mind - to represent Jesus here in the world - and to know there were five others committed to the same cause that you could meet up with at the end of the day to share stories with.

That camaraderie came in handy as we encountered various responses to our overt Christianness.  Some were comically dark: one guy snarkily responded to a comment I made to him by saying he was also religious, being a follower of Satan.  I think I said something to the effect of being sorry to hear that, since Satan's digs aren't nearly as nice as God's.  Others were polite, even admiring, but didn't themselves want to get it "those kinds of things,"  happy instead with their own, non-God way of living.

There were not an insignificant number of encounters we had, though, with people who were outright upset with our outward faith living.  "You're one of those people who think that everyone else is going to hell, aren't you," was one comment I got by someone who then stormed off angrily, not wanting to hear my answer to her question.  "I can't understand how someone as intelligent as you could believe such crap" was another one I remember hearing. 

I'm kind of glad I didn't have a ready response for either comment, because probably the best response was just to give them time to observe us Christians in action.  And that was the nice thing about our summer together, the six of us.  Yes, we had our direct conversations with others around us about matters of faith and eternity.  But those words weren't in a vacuum, but rather in the context of constant interactions and thus constant opportunities to demonstrate obedience and faith in the flesh. 

Best of all, the six of us had each other.  Hard conversations or angry responses could be borne more easily knowing five others had our back.  Praying for our new friends became a lighter burden because five others were lifting.  And it wasn't just those meet-ups at the end of the day; throughout the day, sometimes a quick conversation or a pat on the shoulder or a glance from one of the other five was enough to gird me up.

All in all, it was a wonderful summer.  And so fifteen years later, I pray for those other five, some of whom I still keep in touch with every so often, that they are still walking strong in the faith.  And I pray for everyone else, that along the way God sprinkled in some other Christians to further demonstrate faith in action. 

And I pray especially for those who were incredulous and even angry towards us Christians, that God is at work to soften them to Him, to help them overcome any bad experiences they had in the past, and to draw them into relationship with Jesus.  However it plays out, perhaps they might be able to look back, on this 15th anniversary of their time on "the Love Boat," and remember that there were at least six people who walked with Jesus who weren't so bad.

Time and Money

A dear colleague of mine in the non-profit world used to say that when it came to giving, we could offer our time, treasures, and/or talent.  Talent is harder to quantify, but time and money certainly isn't.  So here's a rough estimate of where I spend my time and money:

Time:

30% sleep

30% work and getting to work

7.5% getting Jada up in the AM and down at night, feeding her, running her to day care

7.5% personal prayer, church types of meetings

7.5% paperwork, chores

7.5% leisure, exercise

5% fun times with Jada

5% fun times with Amy and Jada

Money:

30% taxes

30% retirement / college savings

12.5% church and other giving

12.5% mortgage

7.5% house and phone utilities

5% groceries, personal care products

2.5% leisure, discretionary

Some comments:

* Interesting the symmetry between time and money - in both cases, 60% of it is somewhat off the table, either because of sleep and work or because of taxes and savings.

* We're extremely fortunate that our mortgage is such a small slice of the pie - chalk it up to lucky timing of purchases and refis.

* The utilities number is surprisingly high to me, given that we don't have cable or expensive phone plans; I guess no matter how hard I try to weatherize our house, it's a beast to heat and cool. 

It'll be interesting to compare this with 5-10 years ago (i.e. pre-kids) and with 5-10 years from now (i.e. all our kids are here and in growth spurts).  Let's just hope my money numbers don't add up to more than 100%, or that my sleep slice of the pie hasn't dwindled down to unhealthy levels!

A Glorious Day

We're heading into another busy stretch at work, just days after finally getting out from under a long, busy stretch of deadlines.  And yet, yesterday and today I could be found at work with a big grin on my face and a serenity about me.  Why?  I would shortly be going to see the A's play.

A colleague of mine scored great seats through his company.  So I took the train down to Baltimore, enjoying a leisurely ride and a good read along the way, and decided to light rail it to the ballpark.  The weather forecast warned of possible showers, but by the opening pitch, it was 85 degrees and gorgeous. 

My friend arrived shortly thereafter and we proceeded to chat away for the next two hours plus.  In my mind, there's nothing better for two guys than to catch up over a ballgame on a nice day.  We talked politics, public transportation, and, of course, baseball.  We even shared stories about a certain public official who shall remain nameless who we had both had a really bad experience with - I even told him, "I've been waiting for over a year to tell someone how poorly he treated me." 

Of course, the gloriousness of the day was capped by the A's winning, 4-2.  I was feeling so giddy I ponied up a few extra bucks at the train station to get myself on an earlier train home, the kind of behavior that, if you know me, only happens when I'm feeling extraordinarily happy.  I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.

How Far Down the Rabbit Hole

Good church service this past week about being one.  As I looked around the sanctuary, I marveled (and, to be honest, chuckled a little) at how motley our crew is - by race, class, age, level of social awkwardness, and amount of facial hair, we're pretty much everywhere. 

But as was poignantly observed, sharing space on Sunday morning does not necessarily a community make.  We are hurting as a church, individually and corporately limping along.  But such times as these are also opportunities to truly connect, to touch and to be touched.

I can recall numerous times I have been the beneficiary of this kind of community: sensitive, quick to listen, accepting without condemning.  Every once in a while, I get to be on the giving side of that kind of love, and it feels good, like something we were meant to experience, even as imperfect humans on this side of glory.

Two among us are a married couple who are struggling on the mission field with the overwhelming weight of life lived in service to the very poorest.  We are sending another two among us, another married couple, to send our collective regards and our prayers.  The burden may or may not be lifted as a result of this visit, but at least this missionary couple will know they do not bear it without us also doing some lifting with them.

In light again of last week's tragic shootings in Blacksburg, we were also reminded of the importance of making human connections.  Though a good word, it is far easier said than done.  "How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go," I feel like saying when the subject of truly connecting with another human being is brought up.  For we all are wounded, messy, complex souls.  To make a human connection is an involving exercise, indeed.

And yet is this not what we as Christians are called to take on?  Would we not be following in the footsteps of the one we call Lord, who took on human flesh and made human contact with us?  Did not this Jesus hear out the full story of the bleeding woman, touch the leper, embrace the little children who others thought were a distraction from the truly spiritual things? 

To the question, "How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go," it is my prayer that I and other Christians will answer, "For you, and for the sake of our God and His purposes, "We will go down that rabbit hole."

Level of Difficulty

There are some parts of my life that are easier than for others, and some parts that are harder.  I won't say which are which, but the harder parts are easy to fixate on.  I'm coming to the realization that there are three ways one can deal with those higher levels of difficulty: 1) be bitter, 2) make it into one's identity, or 3) accept the uniqueness of it and make it work for you.

"Be bitter" is self-explanatory, and certainly I've lived there before.  You harangue and you roll your eyes and you otherwise curse the world for having it easier than you.  Not a very Christianly attitude to harbor.

But nor is finding some false badge of honor in your misery.  I know when I'm going this route when there is a secret fear that my circumstances would change for the better, relieving me of my difficulty but then taking from me this thing that I've grown to associate with being me.  Maybe it's before others or just to myself, but this thorn in my side has become a way I make myself feel good about who I am; taking it away leaves me no better than others.

Finally, though, there is a way we can deal with the levels of difficulty in our lives.  We can accept them as a unique mix of challenges for this stage in our trajectory, ordained by a wise and loving God for some greater, grander purpose.  They may not necessarily be life-long, lest we confuse acceptance with affirmation that these obstacles are good things.  But they are certainly not random or, even worse, barbs from a God who is impotent or out to get us. 

God has made us all.  And He has made many of us, who are far greater than we will ever be, go through things far worse than us.  Not saying, "look what others have to go through, in comparison you should be happy," because that would minimize our struggles and pains.  But to say, "there's a greater purpose to it all." 

I don't think it's quite a right analogy to say that, like in diving or gymnastics, a higher level of difficulty translates into a greater multiplier for one's score.  But there is some truth to that in life.  With a higher level of difficulty comes, not more points from God, but more opportunities to stretch and grow and, really and truly, to live.

Green and Gold

It is my hope this season that I will be able to see my beloved Oakland A's in both Baltimore and New York.  Three years ago, they played in Philadelphia and I was there, and you best believe that three years from now when they return, I'll be there too.

As Jerry Seinfeld once noted, in the era of free agency, with players changing teams so frequently, we're really just rooting for uniforms, since that's all that's constant about our team from year to year.  Is that really all fandom is?

Some would say a team represents values we hold dear; think of blue collar fans in blue collar cities like Cleveland, Detroit, and Pittsburgh.  It's true that I happen to love this manifestation of the A's, because they've used their brains to figure out a system that's kept them competitive despite a meager payroll.  But I was equally devoted to them in the late 80's and early 90's, when they spent lavishly and definitely didn't fit the "beloved underdog" label.  So that can't be it.

I think it's about being true to something for the totality of your life.  Rooting for the Green and Gold brings me back to my childhood, when I would freeze in place if something good happened, certain that if I moved I would be to blame for my team starting to fall apart.  And I'd like to think I'll retire to some elderly community in a mixed-use development near wherever the A's play, so I can spend my retired years as a groundskeeper and watch all the games for free.

That sort of loyalty may seem out of place in our ADHD age.  But I think we all yearn to experience and exhibit that sort of loyalty.  It may seem hopelessly old-fashioned to be true to one spouse, one job, one neighborhood, or one God in this day and age, just like rooting for a team through thick and thin seems to have given way to jumping on the bandwagon and playing fantasy sports. 

And yet I do believe it's how we were made to be.  I may not have the same job or live in the same house all my life, but neither will I be flitting around for something new the minute it starts to feel old.  I know I'm in it for the long haul with my wife and my God, and more so I am relieved that they are just as committed to me.  And so it is with the Green and Gold.

Researching and Teaching and Doing Good

The setting was a university campus and the topic was social entrepreneurship.  So it was disappointing that, when asked the question why research universities aren't as civically active as community colleges, the Ivy League professor responded, "Because our job is to research and to teach."

To be sure, it is easier for a juco to pursue the enlightened self-interest of partnering with local employers such that they are essentially serving as training annexes between students looking for jobs and companies looking for workers.  Ivy League institutions have steep expectations heaped on them to churn out top-notch research and dispense top-notch instruction.

And yet the research university's true calling is not to research and teach, but to advance human knowledge.  I would argue that do-gooding, whether locally or globally, can be integrated in researching and teaching towards that higher end. 

And I know there are many at Penn who would argue that same point much more persuasively, passionately, and learnedly.  Ira Harkavy is a world leader in the integration of cutting-edge research, classroom teaching, and urban engagement.  Joseph Sun has mobilized technology resources and engineering minds towards the establishment of computer labs in poor communities around the world.  Penn has made, in inner-city West Philadelphia, a direct impact on nutrition and education and design.

It may take a minute longer to figure out how to pursue initiatives that effect positive local and global change while simultaneously tending to one's important researching and teaching obligations.  But I would argue that's a minute well worth spending.

HUMAN CONTACT

Of course, I am deeply saddened by the recent shootings on the
Virginia Tech campus. My thoughts drift easily to the possibility of
a loved one being caught in the crossfire, and so my heart breaks for
those for whom it is not conjecture but reality. My prayers are with
those who mourn and I hug my wife and daughter all the more tightly
because life is precious and tomorrow's not promised.

I also hope that one thing this tragedy steels me to do is make human
contact. There are others out there who, perhaps if not as dark and
secluded as Monday's killer, are similarly feeling powerless, unloved,
marginalized. Making human contact with them may not have the same
payoff as saving 30+ lives, but it is to be done nonetheless.
Sometimes all it takes is one conversation, one hug, one person.

There may be time later for me to discuss race and gender and violence
and vengeance. But today is just about grieving with those who
grieve, embracing life and love while there are still days, and making
a commitment to making human contact with those who crave it.

False Choice

Chaka Fattah recently pooh-poohed the issue of Center City development
at a gathering of yuppie planners and design geeks by saying he was
"more interested in rebuilding lives than just the skyline." His base
is big enough to risk offending the yuppie planners and design geeks
with this blatant choice of neighborhoods in the ongoing battle
between neighborhoods and Center City.

Only that's a false choice, as the Center City District points out in
its latest report about what a vibrant downtown means for all of
Philadelphia. And it's a truth I subscribe to: without a booming
downtown, you don't have nearly enough jobs, tax base, or amenities to
go around to all the neighborhoods. Make it a choice between
neighborhoods and downtowns, and both will suffer; link them together,
and both will thrive.

Of course, "trickle down" is only as good as the flow. And so just as
it's not good to stop the flow at the top just because it's already at
the top, it's also not good to make it hard for stuff to flow down
from the top to the bottom. And so I hope that we who see the
connection between a bustling downtown and more thriving neighborhoods
will also work hard to make sure that the good stuff that happens
downtown does in fact get to be enjoyed by the more hurting
neighborhoods.

Listen

I'm not naturally a good listener, but I try to try hard, because I
value it as an important way to serve others. And even though I often
don't try, and even when I do I'm still not a great listener, believe
it or not I was once even worse.

I recall several years ago a dear friend of mine who had just gone
through a wilderness season and who was confiding his struggles with
me. I had just read a great Christian book and everything he shared,
what I had just read was the perfect "answer" for him. If he confided
doubt, I had wise words about having faith. When he vented anger, I
warned him about harboring bitterness. Wherever he turned, I had a
quote or a verse.

It occurred to me much, much later that my friend already knew
everything I had regurgitated to him from this book I'd just read. He
didn't need my "answers," he needed my ears and heart. He needed my
ears to be open so he could pour out his sadness and dismay. And he
needed my heart to be open so he would know I was willing to feel his
pain. And I gave him neither my ears nor my heart.

So when I am trying to listen better now, sometimes it is because I am
trying to make up for a dear friend who gave me an opportunity to
listen to him, an opportunity I butchered. Thankfully, there are more
times to do better.

The Harder Conversation

I won't say what it is about, but my wife and I have a recurring
fight. But we get to that fight not by talking about the issue
directly, but rather by sniping at each other about paint colors or
groceries or dirty dishes. Why? Because it's easier to get uppity
about those things than it is to have the harder conversation about
the deeper issues, even though that harder conversation is the more
important one to have.

I bring this up in light of the recent Don Imus hoo-hay. Both black
and white leaders have tripped over themselves scolding Imus' racist
and sexist remarks. The level of righteous indignation is impressive,
to say the least.

Look, I'm not condoning what Imus said. My wife has listened to him
before and she tells me he's a blathering idiot. I do understand that
words hurt, and not did Imus do wrong in saying those words, but he
did wrong in thinking those thoughts.

Nevertheless, I am disappointed that, like me when it comes to
fighting with my wife, both black and white leaders have chosen the
easier conversation rather than the harder, more important one. Black
leaders have learned that scolding white foul-mouths makes you look
good, while scolding black foul-mouths, like Bill Cosby did a few
years back, gets you in trouble. White leaders, on the other hand,
can feel good about singling out blatantly racist and sexist behavior
instead of dealing with their own, more nuanced contributions to the
problems of race and sex in our country. Either way, Imus makes an
easy target.

I'm not saying we shouldn't send our tsk-tsks his way; clearly he
deserves whatever ill will people are throwing at him. But let's stop
hiding behind such an easy target and get to the harder but more
important conversations that we need to have with ourselves and
others.

Two Cars I Now Give the Bird To

I have a confession to make. For the past several years, whenever I
have seen a Hummer on the road, I've flipped it the bird. Secretly,
of course. Still, I can't help myself. It's not the conspicuous
wealth, but rather the poor gas mileage: since the cost of gas is
artificially low in terms of paying back the true impact to the
environment, Hummer drivers are getting over on the rest of us.

I've recently added a second car that I give the bird to: the Toyota
Prius. Not because Prius owners tend to flaunt their enviro-chicness,
although that is certainly annoying in my book. But because Priuses
are actually worse for the environment than Hummers.

You heard right. It's not from fuel consumption Priuses obviously run
circles around Hummers in terms of efficiency. According to a recent
Philadelphia Inquirer editorial, the nickel used to make the engines
in Priuses is mined in Canada, refined in Wales, remanufactured in
China, and then shipped to Japan. That's a lot of carbon emissions
along the way. The mines in Canada, too, are massive belchers of
sulphur dioxide, which have killed huge swaths of trees and induced
acid rain.

A consulting firm recently calculated "total energy cost per mile"
over the life of cars, which, if you think about it, is a much better
metric than "miles per gallon" for how eco-friendly a car really is.
In other words, they factored in not only the driving part but also
the impact of planning, building, selling, and disposing the vehicle.
The Hummer came out at $1.95 per mile. The Prius? $3.25 per mile, or
2/3 higher than the Hummer.

In my book, that sort of environmental damage warrants the bird.

http://www.philly.com/inquirer/opinion/20070404_Hidden_cost_of_driving_a_Prius.html

Nights Out, Lights Out

Six out of the last seven nights I've been out past my bedtime. This
is a highly unusual run, one deserving documentation for that reason
alone, as well as to illustrate the kinds of things that I consider
worth staying up late for. (Well, late for me, at least.)

Friday night Amy and I went out to Fairmount Water Works with a couple
from church. Saturday night we took Jada to see friends of ours in
Hatfield. Sunday night I attended the first board meeting of the
non-profit my late friend's wife established shortly after his death.
Tuesday night was our church's leadership meeting. Wednesday night I
took my sister and brother-in-law to the Phillies game. Thursday
night I spoke at a Christian fellowship gathering on the Penn campus.

And tonight? Early to bed. After a week like this, I need the rest!

Hopelessly and Wonderfully Lost in Philadelphia

My boss and I got lost on our way back from a client meeting north of
Philadelphia. Let me take that back: we knew exactly where we were;
we just didn't know how to get from there to our office.

No matter: despite the fact that we both had a ton of work to do back
at the office, the time in the car wasn't a total lost cause. We
chalked our meanderings through the northern part of Philadelphia as a
sort of tour of that section of the city.

There were some areas we recognized, and we told stories about
different things we knew about those areas - him regaling many more
times more stories than me, since he used to be Commerce Director for
the city. And there were some areas neither of us had been to, and
that was kind of neat, to see blocks and sights that were completely
new to us.

All things being equal, I think we both would have preferred being
underground on the subway, where we know our way and can't get
derailed by stop-and-go traffic. Still, one benefit to being above
ground is taking in the sights. Even though we were both in a hurry
to get on with our days, I guess it's not so bad to get hopelessly and
wonderfully lost in Philadelphia.

Two Battles

Pursuing a vocation in which you can seek God's kingdom in the work
itself is something that's always been important to me. I'm speaking
at a local college Christian fellowship on this topic later this week,
so I figured I'd help myself organize my thoughts by posting on the
subject.

One point that I want to make during my remarks is that we often sign
up for one battle but end up fighting two. In other words, we who
decide to work for Christian organizations or small non-profits
understand that the work itself, whether teaching inner-city students
or working in a rural clinic or counseling the addicted, is a battle.
But we're ready, with God's help, for that external battle; that's the
battle we've signed up for by choosing that place of employment.

What we don't realize at the time is that there is a second battle we
end up fighting, one that is endemic to any organization that employs
people. And that is the internal battle, the one that weighs us down
with things like office politics and in-fighting and disagreements.
That battle doesn't seem nearly as noble, nor was it one we signed on
for when we went this route.

And yet our character may end up being shaped more by those internal
battles than by the external ones. Not necessarily that we divert our
attention more to the inside stuff than to the outside stuff. Far
from it, for the outside stuff is still the real battle. But in
another sense, how we deal with things like personal integrity and
treating others with respect and being a team player are deep,
meaningful character issues that go a long way in determining how much
success we're going to have outwardly.

It's a shame when people, upon realizing they're getting two battles
instead of just the one they wanted, either walk away disillusioned,
looking for that perfect organization where everyone gets along and
people rise above such petty hindrance; or let those internal
struggles so weigh on them that they have no energy left for the very
struggles they're there to tackle. So I hope when I make my remarks,
some college students will hear me and take to heart what I'm saying,
and find a middle way that respects those internal battles, uses them
to become people of character, and press on through to those external
battles that so desperately need to be fought.