Really Random Stuff

There's this great store on Main Street in Newark that sells all kinds of great stuff. One thing is this collection of buttons with witty messages on them. I can't help but buy a few almost every time I go in the store. I've given away many - you know, you see the perfect one for a friend or relative, you have to get it for them. It's also a treat for my kids, “Go ahead, pick out a button, I'll buy it for you.”

My main collection (the ones I kept for myself) is scattered around my computer screen at home - I figured I'd share with you the little messages I have hanging around my place:

“Another Deadline, Another Miracle”

“Power corrupts, Absolute power is kind of neat.”

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but not their own facts”

“You people and your quaint little categories”

“Angst-Free Zone: no wallowing!”

“If you're going to walk on thin ice, you might as well DANCE”

“Any sufficiently advanced incompetence is indistinguishable from malice”

“Tact is for people who aren't witty enough for sarcasm”

“If your coalition isn't driving you crazy, it isn't broad enough”

“I'm one of THEM, and I vote”

“Little chance of success, Certainty of death. What are we waiting for?”

This is what Redemption is all about...

NPR has this series called "This I Believe" which encourages people to submit essays about their core beliefs. I enjoy the vast majority of them. This one just stopped me in my tracks.

To listen to the essay read by the author or to learn more, click here.

I believe in the power of redemption.

I was an interrogator at the detention facility in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I don't have any torture stories to share. I think many people would be surprised at the civilized lifestyle I experienced in Guantanamo. The detainees I worked with were murderers and rapists. You never forgot for a moment that, given the chance, they'd kill you to get out. Some committed crimes so horrific that I lost sleep wondering what would happen if they were set free.

But that is not the only reason I could not sleep; I had spent 18 months in Iraq just before my arrival in Cuba. First I served as a soldier for a year, and then returned as a civilian contractor because I felt I hadn't done enough to make a difference the first time. After the Abu Ghraib scandal broke, I left because I felt I could not make any difference anymore. Those events simply undermined all of our work.

I felt defeated and frightened and tired, and I hoped I could redeem myself by making a difference in Guantanamo. Still, I couldn't sleep. I was plagued with dreams of explosions and screaming. After being sleepless for more than 48 hours, I began to hallucinate. I thought people were planting bombs outside my house in Guantanamo. That was the night my roommate brought me to the hospital.

When I returned to work, I began to meet again with my clients, which is what I chose to call my detainees. We were all exhausted. Many of them came back from a war having lost friends, too. I wondered how many of them still heard screaming at night like I did.

My job was to obtain information that would help keep U.S. soldiers safe. We'd meet, play dominoes, I'd bring chocolate and we'd talk a lot. There was one detainee, Mustafa, who joked that I was his favorite interrogator in the world, and I joked back that he was my favorite terrorist — and he was. He'd committed murders and did things we all wished he could take back. He asked me one day, suddenly serious, "You know everything about me, but still you do not hate me. Why?"

His question stopped me cold. I said "Everyone has done things in their past that they're not proud of. I know I have, but I also know God still expects me to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. That means you."

Mustafa started to cry. "That's what my God says, too," he said.

Accepting Mustafa helped me accept myself again. My clients may never know this, but my year with them helped me to finally heal. My nightmares stopped.

I don't know what kind of a difference I made to the mission in Guantanamo. But I found redemption in caring for my clients, and I believe it saved my life — or at least my sanity. People say, "Hate the sin, not the sinner." That is easier said than done, but I learned that there is true freedom in accepting others unconditionally.

I believe we help to redeem each other through the power of acceptance. It is powerful to those who receive it and more powerful to those who give it.

Wrapping up 2007

Quick disclaimer:

I am fully aware that the calendar system we all use is pretty arbitrary, I am fully aware that the division of a year into 12 months and marking the point where we watch the numbers change on the year as January 1 has almost nothing to do with anything. For a comprehensive look at the whole measuring-time-calendar thing, I highly recommend the book "Questioning the Millennium" by Stephen Jay Gould -- it is incredible.

OK, now that that's out of the way, let me say this:

I love the whole concept of New Year's Day. This is something I actually mark in my own way for a couple of weeks.

I love spending time thinking about all that has occured in the year, I love everyone's year-end lists -- Best movies, best records (or CDs or whatever the kids are calling them these days), best books of the year, greatest triumphs, biggest embarassments, you name it, I love it!

I can tell you that 2007 has been an incredible year for me. From starting the year off on the unemployment line (well, actually had to wait until January 2 for that, the unemployment office wasn't open on Jan. 1) to spending the first half of the year wondering if I'd ever have a regular, full time job again to getting to spend some great time with family and friends to landing a job that turned out to be better than I ever could have imagined or hoped to getting to do some really neat side projects -- this year has been so much more than I ever could have dreamed a year ago.

Which leads to all kinds of thoughts about 2008!

Oh, one other thing -- I'm not big on New Year's Resolutions. I mean the new year is a great time to try something new, try to start a new ritual or something. But for Pete's sake, if you're going to eat less and exercise more, than just do it -- if you're going to quit smoking, just do it. Stop setting unrealistic expectations on a date, just do whatever you want to do -- really, do it, now!

So, how did 2007 treat you? What are your thoughts about 2008?

A kinder, gentler Christmas message

I think in most areas I can be diplomatic and tactful -- of course then there's the Christmas thing (see previous post).

Thankfully, I have some great people like Bill Barto willing to send along things that kind of carry the same message, but in a nicer way.

It appears that this is one of those e-mails someone created and has since made its rounds (in other words, I don't know who wrote it), but it seems to work. So, here's the nice version:

Dear Children,

It has come to my attention that many you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season.

Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of your predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday on what was actually a time of pagan festival.

Although I do appreciate being remembered anytime. How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth, just GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

Now, having said that let Me go on . If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching, explaining who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks were. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15: 1 - 8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it:

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile; it could make the difference.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary-- especially one who takes My love and Good News to those who have never heard My name.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation Army or some other charity which believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember : I LOVE YOU, JESUS

I REALLY don't like Christmas

OK, I was going to hold off on this until December, but certain people have called me out, so here it is.

I hate Christmas -- that's right, I hate Christmas -- not the commercialization (although that stinks, too), I truly, genuinely, down to my bones hate Christmas.

To help you understand this, I'm posting a copy of a piece that ran in the local newspaper last year -- and this is the "nice" version (I still have the original piece I wrote which is a little harsher -- OK, much harsher).

Anyhow, here's the nice version -- feel free to post whatever comments you wish about what a mean, awful, terrible person I am...

Why Christmas?

Confessions of a self-professed Grinch

By Ken Grant

Every December, when that great song, "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" comes on, my kids demand that I turn up the radio so they can sing – or gleefully scream – the lyrics at me.

Grinch, Scrooge, the Anti-Claus, take your pick of titles – I gladly wear them all.

I honestly do not like Christmas, I do not enjoy any aspect of it, and I'm finding that more and more people are admitting that they're not all that thrilled with it, either.

I can already hear the cries of heresy coming from faithful Christians and even not-so-faithful-but-we-show-up-for-church-twice-a-year types alike. But, if we take a moment to look at the origins of Christmas, we might find that the truly Christian thing to do might be to shift our focus to something more substantive and meaningful every December.

Nowhere in scripture are Christians commanded to celebrate the birth of Christ. I challenge anyone to find a scriptural reference to the First Century Church celebrating Christmas. In fact, two of the four canonized gospels don't even mention the birth of Jesus.

By contrast, the followers of Christ are admonished to observe two things: Communion and Baptism. All other feasts, festivals, and observances are entirely optional (see Colossians 2:16).

So, when did we start this Christmas tradition? Allow me to quote from George W. Cornell:

For more than 300 years after Jesus' time, Christians didn't celebrate his birth. The observance began in fourth century Rome, timed to coincide with a mid-winter pagan festival honoring the pagan gods Mithra and Saturn. The December date was simply taken over to commemorate Jesus' birth, since its exact date isn't known. Consequently, the fusion of the sacred and the profane characterized the celebration from the start.

The reality is that celebrating new life following the winter solstice is something that's been done for some time – much more than 2,000 years. Switching the celebration from Ra the Egyptian sun-god, Adonis the Syrian god, Mithras the Persian sun-god, and any number of Norse gods (Oden being the most prevalent) to the birth of Christ seemed to have occurred almost seamlessly – in fact, nearly EVERYTHING that we associate with the Christmas tradition (evergreen trees, holy, lights, candles, etc.) can be traced back to one or more of these pagan origins.

To be perfectly honest with you, I don't know how ministers go through this every year. Let's think about this for a moment. The average minister has 52 Sundays a year to teach, to preach, to explore the deep and rich mysteries of scripture found throughout the Bible. Out of those 52 Sundays, the minister is forced by tradition to focus on a small handful of passages for at least four of those Sundays every year – re-hashing the same themes year after year after year.

And again, this is for something that really has very little to do with the crux of Christianity . I challenge anyone to show me where Peter preached about the importance of the birth of Christ. How about an epistle from Paul where he explains to a growing church the need to have a manger scene set up by the second week of December?

The message of Christ is profound – he did not call his disciples to look at his baby pictures . He told his followers to pick up their crosses and follow him to death. Paul tells us that presenting ourselves as living sacrifices is our reasonable act of worship. Peter's sermon at Pentecost focused exclusively on the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. Again, the two practices Christians are ordered to observe – baptism and communion – are symbols of sacrifice, death, and resurrection – not of incarnation and birth.

Of course, it makes sense for just about anyone to be more comfortable focusing time and attention on a harmless, cute baby than to deal with the man who calls you to sacrifice your pride and your ego to follow him to an uncertain future.

I am not advocating that everyone quit celebrating Christmas. But I am asking for two things. First, figure out what it is you are celebrating and why you are celebrating it. If it's just tradition or a warm, fuzzy feeling, that's OK – just be honest about it. Second, please don't tell me that I "must" celebrate with you.

By the way, the kids don't seem to mind the fact that their father is a Grinch.

Let's open the books!

Anyone who knows me knows that I really can't stand certain individuals who claim to preach about the God of the Bible while actually preaching a message that is contrary to scripture (God wants to give you money) and living a lifestyle that Robin Leach would consider excessive.

Well, it looks like Sen. Chuck Grassley of Iowa is starting to ask some of these people to open their books to justify their tax-exempt status.

Again, anyone who knows me knows that I am normally opposed to government interfering with anything very much. But, in this case I believe this may be a good thing.

I guess the only thing that frustrates me is the fact that no matter what happens there will always be another group of charlatans and liars ready to fleece the foolish -- and another group of people ready to hand over their cash.

Click here to read Sen. Grassley's press release and copies of the letters he wrote.

Where do you live?

I have some truly interesting, insightful, and talented friends (chances are that if you are reading this you are one of the interesting, insightful, talented people in my life).

I just wanted to share something one of those friends has written (he said it was OK to post it here). Let me know what you think -- and which floor you see yourself on...

Recovery From Pride
By Brad Bosler
October 24, 2007

I lived on the seventeenth floor of a building before. When you have to walk up all seventeen floors using the stairs, you realize what it means to raise yourself up on your own power! When you make it, you feel like you have accomplished something. The building of life, though, is much higher. When adversity eventually brought me down, I realized the stairs I once bounded up with the energy of Pride, were now tougher in humiliation. When I reached out for help, someone showed me another option- the up elevator of grace. Having been raised up, I now want to offer the same option to the homeless of Elkton, Md.

I am in “recovery” from Pride. When I was young, around 18, I lived high on the building of life! Pride energized me. It took me up, high enough to where the view was great! I thought life could not be any better than what I had made out of it. It was as if I was living in a skyscraper. Everyone moved below me. In the distance, the horizon stretched for miles all around, and from my viewpoint, I could see that every road emanated from me. In my arrogance, I believed everyone below me was inferior, and if I wanted to help someone, it was to raise them up to my level because they were less than me.

I was full of pride. Adversity, then, was what I needed to become humble. It would not have been my choice, though. Through a series of adversities, mostly as a result of my arrogant actions, I began to fall down. Sometimes it was down the steps. Other times, I was plummeting in the down elevator. On my way down, I saw those I once thought I towered over become farther above me while I continued to fall. As sadness and humiliation grew, I desperately wanted to stop falling. However, as time passed, I began to see that there was much farther I could fall! Ground level would not be the bottom! That’s when I reached out for help, stopped falling, and got out on whatever floor I was at. I was closer to street level than I had ever thought I would be in my life. If I was full of pride before, adversity showed me I had room to grow.

In a famous poem by Langston Hughes called Mother to Son, the mother who has seen hard times tells her son, “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare. But all the time I’s been a-climbin’ on…” When I reached my bottom and reached out, I found those same hard stairs she was talking about. For me, life had been crystal stairs, but now, at the bottom, getting back to those stairs seemed impossible. The stairs at the bottom are rough and filled with splinters. The steps I once bounded up with the energy of Pride, now seemed impossible in darkness of humiliation. Despite how low I felt, I did begin to trudge upwards. I was determined to get back up to that towering view, to regain what I once had. The beauty of that view and the serenity of the height enticed me. Yet, as much as I tried, I could not seem to make much progress.

Trudging slowly up the steps, I realized I could only raise myself so far on my own energy. I needed help. I needed a lift. Through personal struggle and the guidance of others who had fallen, I realized I needed a power greater than myself, one that I could fully trust. That’s when I made the decision to step onto the up elevator of grace. Giving up on believing I could get myself back to the top, I found myself raised up. The ride up was easy, freeing, and exhilarating. But too soon it stopped. The doors opened, and I was let out somewhere in the middle. I wasn’t on the top floor. In fact, I could still see the ground easily. Furthermore, I could look up and see that there were plenty of floors above me. The view was nice, and I could see some roads and their apparent directions, but I was more confused as to why I was not raised any higher! I did not get my pride back! Instead, my heart still felt broken, yet it did seem somehow strengthened as a result of my fall. It was then that I realized that I was not supposed to stay on this floor. I was now supposed go back down and lead others to where I had been raised.

That is where I find myself now- drawn to homeless people on the streets of Elkton, Maryland, at Grace Community Church, a church dedicated to reaching the lost. Not all homeless people are all criminals, mental patients, and drug addicts. Some of them are just lost, stuck in the down elevator not knowing that they can get off, let alone aware of the fact that there is a way back up. Many seem to have gotten off on ground level. From there, all they see are the bottoms of the buildings, as they look no farther than their next meal or a warm place to stay that night. They don’t even want to think about the heights they can rise to or the beautiful view above. Some don’t even know how to find the door so they can get in and start climbing again. Opening the door is the goal of our church. If we can feed them and give them a place to stay, maybe they can look a little farther up. Maybe they will decide to start climbing the steps with our help. Better yet, maybe they will decide to take the up elevator and be raised up.

Throughout my life, adversity led me to the down elevator, especially when I half-heartedly tried the up. Fortunately, people reached out to me when I was falling and showed me the way back up. Having been lifted from my fall, I feel like I have been saved. I want to tell those on the bottom floors, those whose vision is so obstructed by the immediate walls around them, that there is a higher floor, one that reveals a vision of this world that is breath taking. Likewise, I also want to go up and tell those who are so high they have lost sight of the ground to remember those below who are in need, those like the homeless people in Elkton. As a result of my “recovery” from Pride, I am living on the middle floor. It’s high enough to see the view, low enough to see the street, temporary enough that I know I am not supposed to stay there forever.