Fake China :: Fake Church

I have a friend who is about to travel to Beijing for the 2008 Olympics. One of her friends has a brother who is swimming for Tunisia, so she decided to come along for the ride.

Last night she was over at our house, telling us about some of the interesting steps the Chinese government is taking to make their capital city a world-class experience for these two weeks in August:

1) They are shutting down numerous factories for a period of time, with the hopes of drastically improving air quality. Imagine the let-down for those Beijing residents who discover what it's like to take a deep breath for two weeks, before going back to "normal".

2) They are banning cars from the road. For a three-month period, cars are restricted on alternate days, depending on their license plate numbers. My friend said they were banning cars completely during the Olympics, which may be true, but I haven't found support for that yet on the web.

3) She also said they'll be banning the internet, which is certainly something they'd like to do, but I can't prove that they've decided to do so, against the insistence the IOC.

In addition to those things, the Chinese government has prompted (to put it gently) its citizens to do many other things, such as: changing the names of its restaurant dishes (and remove dog meat from the menu), quit asking personal questions that might offend westerners, stop smoking, stop using fireworks, and the list goes on and on.

With all these expensive initiatives, it is not likely that China will make money on the Olympics. Chances are that they don't care... they see this simply as an extremely expensive public relations project, which will garner them First World status.

After mentioning all these bans, my friend lamented that she would just rather experience Chinese culture for what it really is. Of course the breathing will be nice, but she is sad for the lack of one very important thing: Authenticity.

We may laugh at the Chinese government's paranoid attempts at keeping, or saving, face. But there is something very human about it. In a bad way, that is.

The Church is a prime suspect of the same offense. The Church is polluted, it's noisy and messy. It has a beautiful culture, but is not without it's crazy jargon and undesirable characters. It's natural that we should want to mask all that ugliness. Otherwise, who would ever come?

But people can surprise you. Authenticity is a powerful thing, and people will put up with a lot to be in the presence of real honesty and transparency. It's scary to put yourself out there, and a lot of people really will turn away in disgust. But those are not the people you need around anyway.

And before you accuse the Church too sharply, do some navel-gazing of your own. What are you trying to hide? Put up your facade if you must; disbelieve it if you like, but most people would rather know the Real You.

The Swiss Cheese Curse

"Brendon... the ground you walk on is cursed, and no matter what kind of job you have, it will suck in one way or another. And chances are, most months there will be more month than there is money.

"Kara... you'll probably give birth to children someday, but without drugs the pain will make you wish you were dead. Oh, and Brendon will never quite meet your expectations, but he'll dominate you anyway."

I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now start having second thoughts.

A few weeks ago Christina and I were able to travel to Portland, Oregon to see my brother (Brendon) get married to the girl of his dreams (Kara). Thankfully, the wedding didn't sound anything like the words above. I'm pretty sure no wedding ever has.

That's because the passage in Genesis 3 that this exchange is drawn from is A CURSE. People don't want to think about curses at weddings. As the King of Swamp Castle said in Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail, "This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let's not bicker and argue over who killed who!" But I digress...

What I'm saying is, when you see a curse, it's best not to encourage it. The best thing to do is fight it, defy it, pray against it, live into the blessing.

But I think as many of us try to live out our lives as men and women, and as husbands and wives, we end up slouching towards the curse anyway. As I explain, I'm going to leave out the part about child-bearing. Drugs, no drugs... you can make up your own mind on that.

Adam, as we know, was formed from the dirt. Which is why, incidentally, it is so hard for a man to get, or stay, clean. Eve was formed later on from Adam's rib so that pastors would have something clever to say at weddings about the woman being equal to man because she came from his side.

Even when God was most involved in the lives of humans, he tended not to deal with us in a very direct fashion. He did not pop Adam and Eve out of thin air (ex nihilo for your seminarians,) he used materials. And it's as if those materials are always there to tempt us to put our trust in matter (materialism) instead of its Source.

Adam's matter was dirt. So how did God curse Adam? He cursed the dirt, so that men throughout history would have to bust their butts all day long, and this is the thanks they get from you kids?

Eve's matter was Adam. So how did God curse Eve? He said that she would always desire a relationship with him, but he would rule over her. She would always long for equality and intimacy and emotional/spiritual compatibility, but Adam would be too stubborn and dirty for much of that. Plus he'd be at work all the time.

At first glance, Eve's curse looks demeaning (although it shouldn't be strange that a curse would be demeaning.) But many women have lamented their fate to be subordinate to a man, and have decided that they'd rather have Adam's curse... workaholism! Now that's living the dream...

The fact is, they're both curses, and God does not expect us to seek out either one. He created us to be equal... for the first woman to come out of man, and every subsequent man to come out of woman. Similarly, he created us to seek God. When men (or women) try to achieve significance through their work, or when women (or men) try to find ultimate fulfillment in their human relationships, we are all missing the point. We are chasing after the curse instead of the blessing.

I probably don't even need to say that the curse is largely unavoidable, this side of eternity. But thankfully God's grace, especially as displayed on the Cross, has punched huge holes in it, through which we can see and live out what God intended for his children.

That is true religion... not to set up systems that play into the curse, but to guide ourselves and others into the blessings that God has made possible by his own sacrifice.

Now.... you may kiss the bride.

Letter to Christianity Today

I wanted to share with everyone a letter I wrote to Christianity Today. So here it is:

William Lane Craig is 99% right in "God is Not Dead Yet", but I believe his take on the impotence of post-modernism needs correction. He falls into a common trap—equating relativism with post-modernism.

Relativism is just one aspect of post-modernism, and not even the most defining aspect of it.

Although I would agree with Craig that “modern” apologetics will always be vital, he does not recognize the amount of damage done to that faith by modernist thinking.

And by damage, I am primarily referring to the reduction of a faith which values both certainty and mystery, into one which we have a right to thoroughly categorize and systematize for human consumption.

Post-modernism has, in my opinion, the potential to correct this mistake. Granted, it also carries numerous dangers, like relativism, but fortunately it is not a package deal. I believe that relativism is beginning to wane, even as the post-modern point of view is spreading rapidly, especially among those under 35.

And Don't Forget To Tip Your Waitresses...

You know I am really passionate about a topic when I never run out of metaphors or illustrations to get my point across. And here's the second one in a row in the food service category.

Last night Christina and I were having dinner with another couple at a restaurant downtown. The table we sat down at was a bit grimy, so we asked our waitress if she could clean it up. She acquiesced, but none too enthusiastically. When it was time to order, Christina and I ordered a single entree, to split, and the other couple ordered the same entree, to split. The waitress didn't seem too excited about that either, and I wondered if it was because she knew our check, and thus her tip, would be minimal.

All in all the service wasn't terrible, but it was painfully austere. Until she brought the check, that is. That's when she started joking around about who's bill was whose, and suddenly acting like she was one of those fun and friendly waitresses. I wanted to ask her who she was... because our waitress is the one without that smile on her face. But I didn't say that. I just played along, since I was more concerned about our conversation with the other couple than with our waitress' behavior.

But when Christina and I talked about it on the way home, she made me realize that our server had intentionally waited until check time to put on her happy face, so as to supplement her tip. And why not? After all, it's a lot of work being a good server. It's exhausting to be friendly and helpful all the time. And according to the primacy/recency effect, people only really remember the first thing, and the last thing, and not necessarily even the first thing if the food is good. So why not save your energy, and simply make a good last impression to boost your bottom line? Makes sense.

But, as Christina said, it also makes one feel used. It makes it painfully obvious, upon reflection, that your server is only interested in one thing: him- or herself. Even most good servers probably don't actually care about you, the customer, as a person, but at least they believe in serving you well, and doing a good job from start to finish. That way you're free to believe they care about you and like you. But when they make it so obvious that they're fishing for tips, it's hard to want to tip them at all.

But here's the payoff... this is often the impression that evangelism makes on the world. We have an agenda: to boost our numbers, to earn our badges, to seek out the prospects and expand the army of God. This is our sacred duty, and we'll do anything to accomplish it, by gum! Even pretending we like you! Whatever gets the job done...

Come on, world... just look how hard we've worked to serve you well, and all the time with a big, toothy grin on our faces. And we ask nothing in return, except a paltry tip of 10%.

And we better get it, too, or you never know... one of us might just spit in your communion cup.




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La Comunidad Autentica

Several weeks ago, my boss hired a new employee named Diana to help out with the increasing workload. She is from Mexico, and has been a legal resident of the United States most of her life. Fortunately, she's happy to answer our questions about her home country, and her first language.

A week or two after she came on board, Andy (my boss) asked her if there were any truly authentic Mexican restaurants in Springfield. At first she said no. But then she changed her mind and said there's a place called Tamale King that's pretty close.

Christina and I actually ate at the Tamale King once. It's remarkably bare-bones, with linoleum floors, fluorescent lighting, and cafeteria-style tables and chairs. Two clues as to its authenticity were its wall of Latino grocery items, and the TV suspended over the counter playing Univision non-stop.

I'm not sure how many Mexican restaurants there are in Springfield, but there's at least several dozen. Of course the majority of them aren't even trying to be authentic: Taco Bell, Taco Bueno, Chipotle, Qdoba, Carlos O'Kelly's, etc. These are the franchise eateries that have stuck to the formula for success... put a lot of fattening American food in a tortilla, dip it in cheese, and give it a Spanglish name.

After that you've got your independently-owned places that are shooting for authentic... Tex-Mex, that is. It's still pretty Americanized, but closer. These are the joints that are always trying to convince you they're authentic. It's a great PR word. They play canned Mariachi music over the speakers, they hang ponchos and sombreros on the wall, and they may even sell funky sodas you've never heard of.

According to Diana, we've now described every "Mexican" restaurant in Springfield but one. And that one, Tamale King, doesn't seem to care if anybody thinks they're authentic. No wacky red-green-and-yellow decor, no trumpets and giant guitars, not even a fully Spanish name. Nevertheless, the proof is in the Mexican Bread Pudding.

It's obvious by the sincere attempts at authenticity in the restaurant industry that customers care about getting "the real thing". But why? It seems like a perfect world for an epicurean white guy like myself. Dozens and dozens of restaurants, all lined up to give me something spicy and exotic, but catered specifically to my caucasian sensibilities. What could be better?

So I think the restaurants in the Tex-Mex category have discovered something significant. White people don't really want authentic Mexican food. They just want to think they're getting authentic Mexican food. Why else would they go to all the trouble to dress it up, instead of just calling it what it is? You know... Spicy Burger Chopped Up Inside Taco Shell. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...)

Where am I going with this, you ask? Authentic is not just a buzzword in the culinary arts, it's practically a movement within the Church. Indeed, it's become a veritable silver bullet. "Let's all be seeker-sensitive, I mean let's have a revival, I mean let's be postmodern, I mean let's be missional, I mean let's be authentic! That's all we really need!"

Check me out, I'm guilty too. What's the unofficial slogan of the Front Porch? "Arts, Culture and Authentic Community." Not even a complete sentence, is it?

I am not writing this post to say that we are the Tamale King of churches (there's a slogan for you.) We are not a lone reed of integrity in a sea of spiritual pretenders. But if I can blow the horn in my sleep, perhaps I can give the whole Church a wake-up call.

Whether people really want authenticity, or they just think they do, the fact is that they need it. We need it. The temptation, as a church leader, and especially as a church planter, is to get a focus group, figure out everybody's preferences, and then create an experience especially for them. Just like the Taco Bells and Qdobas, it's a proven success strategy, and everybody wants to be a winner.

But what does it cost? Yes, the Chalupas are cheap, but the identity crisis is out of everyone's price range. Because the most fundamental human need is to know who you are... whose you are. And what you're worth. And every step we take toward a plastic spiritual utopia is a step away from that ultimate goal. It's a concealing, not a revealing, and down the road I get to find out just how many layers I've managed to wrap around the real ME... the person God created me to be.

So the question is out there... Do you really want Authentic Community? Because you have to take the sides that come with it, namely Repentance, Transparency, Intimacy, Forgiveness, even Awkwardness... ew. All concepts which can be pretty hard to swallow.

So... no room for dessert? Check please!



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The Church Is a Whore, and She Is My Mother

Augustine said it.

Every generation is prone to certain superlative assumptions about itself. We are always...

the most enlightened, most advanced, most creative, most civilized...

AND/OR

the most wicked, most degenerate, dumbest, laziest, voted-most-likely-to-usher-in-the-end-of-the-world generation in history.

So naturally it surprises us when we look back and see the same attitude in history. Is it possible that a 5th-century Bishop, prior even to the Dark Ages, could be as jaded against the church as our own breed of postmodern critics?

But yes, Augustine said it. "The Church is a whore, and she is my mother."

Last night at the Front Porch, I slipped into one of those conversations. Somebody mentioned the alleged $50,000 that a particular church happened to have spent on speakers for the youth center. Not a speaker system... not human speakers, just speaker cabinets. And one of our more idealogical Wednesday night regulars became, shall we say, livid.

"How... hm... HOW MANY LIVES DO YOU THINK COULD BE SAVED BY $50,000!?!"

Whether the statistic was correct or not was beside the point. The fact is that we Christians are famous for finding ways to collect large amounts of money, and spend it on something that many others deem utterly irrelevant.

I wonder what the underground Christians in China or Indonesia or the Sudan might think. These churches seem to be growing spiritually and numerically, under far-less-than-ideal conditions. Of course, it would not be original of me to point out the way Christianity tends to thrive under oppression.

Last night my wife and I were wondering out loud if American Christianity was headed in that direction. "Sometimes, in a very weird way," I said, "I actually long for that."

"You do???" She exclaimed.

"Well... sort of. I mean, it's a hard thing to say. But it's as if someone is out to destroy us either way. If we're being oppressed, others are destroying us physically. If we're being validated by society at large, we inevitably start destroying ourselves spiritually. Only, in the first instance we are drawing closer to God in our adversity, and in the latter, we're wandering away from him."

"I never thought of it that way," She said. "I think that's true."

In my other conversation, with the Front Porch idealogue, I seconded many of his concerns about the way we Christians use and abuse the gifts of God. But I also tried to convince him to give even the most suspect church the benefit of the doubt. The fact is, we don't always (and actually we hardly ever) fully understand the underlying motives, and the heart behind the decisions that are being made in other churches.

"I actually know people in that church who really have an earnest heart after God," I said.

"But do you know someone in leadership?" the idealogue demanded.

"As a matter of fact, I do." He gasped. You might think he was being over-dramatic. I might think you'd be right.

"Or was, anyway," I continued. "He was in leadership. If you're right about this church, and that it needs change so badly, I believe he would have been one of the people there longing to bring it about. But he's not there anymore. Maybe he gave up. I haven't talked to him about it."

"Well... yes... maybe," he stammered.

There is so much to hate about what they've become. What we've become. Reminiscent of Rahab, or Gomer, or Israel at large, we have been unfaithful. We've forgotten our first love, and chased after everything else that moves, looking for what we've already found, but lost. The Church has become, by definition, a whore. With a long and proud tradition of corruption and, well... pride.

But she is ours. She is us. She is the true body of Christ that stands by his power and grace despite so many stumblings.

She is our mother.

Walking on Eggshells

Last Sunday morning one of the things I talked about at The Core was some of the things we can learn from other religions. I know this thought sends shivers down the spines of many Christians, and to others it's too little, too late.

If you know me at all, I don't have to assure you that I haven't gone soft. When it comes to the Bible, Jesus, etc, I still believe basically the same things I have believed most of my life. But even if we Christians are right about the most important aspects of spirituality, do we really need the arrogance that often comes along for the ride? Is it right to treat all other religions as if they are full of morons (no... not Mormons. There is actually one religion which is full of Mormons.) who managed to get everything wrong? Or do we have the humility to learn from our "enemies"?

It made me think of (surprise!) a metaphor. Namely, holding a belief is a lot like holding an egg. (You may have heard this metaphor used with parenting.) If you hold it too loosely, it will roll off and break on the floor. If you hold it too tightly, it will bust in your hand.

My point to the post-modern crowd is, there's nothing wrong with a little certainty. And to the modern crowd that there's nothing wrong with having an open mind. Because the danger of rejecting certainty is that, rather than validating all beliefs, it actually refutes all beliefs... considering all of them unworthy of really believing in.

And the danger of rejecting open-mindedness is that you can come to protect your beliefs so savagely that you actually weaken them in the process. Let me explain.

A true belief is able to stand up to scrutiny and skepticism. When we shield our beliefs from all such attacks, we insinuate that they cannot endure the onslaught, and thus, may not actually be true.

Either way, your egg is a goner. The only question now is... do you want it scrambled or fried?

Reality Bites

Here's the scoop.

I'm too much of a post-modernist to believe that every question has, or needs, a pat answer. Or that only those with sufficient and acceptable education should have a voice. Or that the arts are nothing more than helpful illustrations in an otherwise serious book.

But I'm too much of a modernist to believe that nothing is really true, or that certainty has no place. Because what I'm about to say is something I will not let go of.

The way I see it (there I go, talking post-modernese) we each have three choices as we attempt to discern the nature of reality:

A) Reality is a shape-shifter that morphs and customizes as it travels from person to person, and from one day to the next. No one has the right to speak with any certainty about it, and by no means does anyone have the right to correct anyone else's perceptions. (This is the one and lonely dogma of post-modernism.) We each define our reality, allowing it to flow to us fresh with each new whim and situation, and we listen to the observations of others like we would read a good novel, or view an abstract painting.

B) Reality is the easiest, most comfortable solution to my particular quandaries. There is indeed a solid floor to stand on, but I know I have not found it until it truly makes me happy. Nevermind that one man's truth is another man's heresy. Nevermind that every last satisfying belief I hold dear makes someone else bristle with irritation. Apparently the universe was shaped and molded to meet my expectations, and help me to sleep soundly every night.

C) Reality is full of hard truths, and hidden truths. There is no need to despair, because hope is present and powerful. But in order to know what is real, we have to be prepared to accept some ideas that seems unfair, or unreasonable, or downright ridiculous. Truth is stranger than fiction, and often harder to swallow, and no one finds it without a substantial dose of humility.

If you know me very well, you may be tired of hearing this stuff, but as I said, I just can't let it go. If you want to accuse me of skewing the choices, go ahead. Feel free to re-write them, or tear them down entirely, in the comments.

But whether you comment or not, at the very least, THINK ABOUT IT.

The Question of Suffering

Yesterday my boss had to take the day off because he pinched his sciatic nerve. Normally he provides the office music from his iTunes, which can include anything from Johnny Cash to the Beastie Boys.

But yesterday was quiet most of the day, so eventually I decided to turn on our local NPR station, and listen to Fresh Air, one of its more popular interview programs.

Although I was only able to listen to snatches of the show, I did catch that Terry Gross was interviewing an author named Bart Ehrman, whose book is called "God's Problem". Ehrman is a former minister and fundamentalist, and his driving point was that Christianity, and religion in general, have not found a satisfactory explanation for human suffering. Here is a quote from the book:

Eventually, though, I felt compelled to leave Christianity altogether. I did not go easily. On the contrary, I left kicking and screaming, wanting desperately to hold on to the faith I had known since childhood and had come to know intimately from my teenaged years onward. But I came to a point where I could no longer believe. It's a very long story, but the short version is this: I realized that I could no longer reconcile the claims of faith with the facts of life. In particular, I could no longer explain how there can be a good and all-powerful God actively involved with this world, given the state of things. For many people who inhabit this planet, life is a cesspool of misery and suffering. I came to a point where I simply could not believe that there is a good and kindly disposed Ruler who is in charge of it.

Knowing that it would be fodder for his detractors, in the interview he specifically referenced the book of Job. He claimed that Job, rather than providing an explanation for suffering, depicts a man who questions his intense suffering, and is reprimanded for it by God himself. Job says "Why? I don't deserve this!" and God says "Be quiet. Did you create the universe?"

Ehrman tears down the traditionally positive view held of Job, and rips into his character, saying that Job, rather than accepting his suffering in faith, constantly complained and defended himself. In response, God then (in Ehrman's view) scolds Job for even asking such questions.

I disagree not only with his view of Job, but with his completely cerebral approach to suffering. Perhaps if I read the book I would feel differently. But I certainly don't want to be guilty of it myself, and fail to recognize the suffering you may be experiencing in your life, even as you read this. Life hurts, and sometimes it's torture. No amount of analysis or exegesis or debate can make a dent in that. If you're suffering right now, the second worst thing I could give you is a rational explanation. But the number one worst thing I could give you is the sense that God doesn't care, and you're not allowed to scream in his face for relief. I'll talk more about that in a minute.

So book knowledge alone just doesn't cut it... even when that book is the Bible. Sometimes it doesn't matter how many chapters or books one has memorized from the Bible, because Ehrman has far more than his share. Memorization does not guarantee absorption, and certainly not relationship.

Because when I read Job, I do not see a God who sends lightning on those who ask why. I see a God who overwhelms Job with the power and awe of God's own presence; to the point where Job might even forget about his own pain for a moment.

Solomon says that man cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. God was reminding Job that he is completely incapable of seeing the big picture, and steering him back to faith, not necessarily away from all doubt, but away from despair.

Humanity is absolutely not wrong to question its own suffering. Look at the Psalms, especially 22 and 69. Here is David, the "man after God's own heart", pounding on the chest of the Almighty, screaming out for answers. And God calls this sacred scripture--something each one of us should read and internalize. And for one reason more than any other... these passages point directly the sufferings of Jesus.

And that, more than anything I can think of, is the fulfillment of the question of suffering. Notice I don't say "the answer to the question" because modernity has convinced us to seek hard-and-fast answers where perhaps there can be none. It is my belief that, in those cases, we should instead seek fulfillment. Relationship. Then what is the fulfillment of the question of the suffering of humanity? I believe it's the suffering of Christ.

He did not promise us answers. He promised us himself. "I will be with you, even to the end of the age."

If we want anything beyond that, we do not want Jesus at all.

Happy Mandatory Romance Day!

Just in case you weren't present at the Front Porch on Sunday, I'm going to share a few slides with you that I used to make fun of Valentine's Day.

If you were there, just scroll down, because this post is not entirely redundant.

Let me begin with a few images that may bring a bit of nostalgia to those of us who were required by law to give every one of our classmates a valentine on that... special day:

Although, I don't know if "swing" is really the best word for a children's card anymore.

I guess those are Nintendo Wii controllers. Shows how behind the times I am. Still... it's a little troubling that so far we have "swingers" and "players". Perhaps something a bit more grown-up:

I think this card speaks for itself.

Here's a good lead-in to what I was wanting to talk about.

I know a lot of people who celebrate Valentine's Day, a lot of people who don't, and a lot of people who avoid it with a vengeance. One thing I can definitely understand is a cynicism for the "machine"; the Valentine's Industry. It's almost as bad as Christmas, although not nearly as big. It is the taking of something beautiful and mysterious and sacred, and converting it into some easy cash. Imagine two young people who look at each other, and like cartoon characters, their eyes turn to little hearts. Naturally, as soon as an opportunistic retailer notices this, his eyes turn to little dollar signs.

That's much of why Christina and I decided not to play into the machine when we celebrate this evening. We've made reservations at a brand-new uppity restaurant that opened up on Commercial Street, which is a historic district, yet one that is struggling to come back from the brink of squalor. To open such a restaurant on such a street is a real risk... a sticking-out of one's neck, which is a concept we feel we can relate to.

Finally, apart from the commercialization of Valentine's, there is the question of arbitrariness I feel I must address.

In my opinion, all holidays are at least somewhat arbitrary. Even if they mark the historic date of a special event, it still doesn't really matter what day that event is recognized.

But when you consider human nature, it's just a fact that, unless we appoint a specific period of time to recognize something significant, we just won't do it. We get busy with things, and hopefully we will, if we're doing well, live up on a daily basis to the standards created by our special events and cultural ideals, such as Romance. But often we can let a year pass by without doing something really special to ignore our daily concerns for a moment and focus on something worthwhile.

To me, that's the reason we have holidays. We can't rely on them as the be-all-end-all of the ideals they represent, but we also shouldn't ignore them as opportunities to focus on what makes us who we are.

I sense that you are in agreement with me. So now will you ride my turtle?

A Penny Saved Is a Penny That's Probably Voting Republican

How bout some thoughts on economics & politics...

Economics

This evening we saw a very clever news piece on CBS about the penny. Apparently (and I may have known this already) it costs more money for the U.S. Mint to produce pennies (and nickels, actually) than their actual value. And inflation is getting to the point where we may be in danger of sinister individuals melting down those two coins to sell them for scrap metal. It's happened in other countries... it could happen here.

The nickel is probably safe. But the cost overruns on the penny are so severe, that it's practically doomed.

Granted, there is a certain nostalgia involved. Finding a penny on the ground heads-up. A penny saved is a penny earned. A penny for your thoughts. Pennies from Heaven. But the people who really feel strongly about them should just keep a few for themselves, and not complain if the government wants to take them out of circulation.

The conventional wisdom is that all prices would then be rounded to the nickel. (Dogma Alert) But that doesn't make sense, because as long as we're adding some silly amount to the top of every price, like 7.1%, why bother rounding the sticker price at all? Retailers could leave the sticker price alone, and then just round the price after adding sales tax. That's what they'd have to do anyway.

But (and here's the dogma) I have something very different in mind. When I traveled to Europe in high school, I noticed that their merchandise tended to have human-type prices, such as 7.50, or 14, not this 1.99 crap, or worse yet, gas for 2.699 a gallon. Somebody decided awhile ago that every American would actually be fooled by the number nine, into thinking that the price was really significantly lower. As if 2.00 would cause sticker shock, but 1.99 seems reasonable.

The sad thing is, this may actually be true. But I'm tired of letting our culture be dictated by the lowest common denominator. I also think that life would be better if the price at the cash register was a human-type number. After all, what's the point of rounding the sticker prices if you still have to dig into your pocket (or run out to your car) to get the necessary coins to handle the sales tax?

So here's my proposal: Mandate by law that all prices below $1 be rounded to the nickel, all prices between $1 and $5 be rounded to the quarter, all prices between $5 and $20 be rounded to the half-dollar, and all prices above $20 be rounded to the dollar. This would naturally make the penny obsolete. In addition to that, ban the adding of any extra cost at the cash register, which would require retailers to include sales tax in their prices. There's a few who do it anyway... it's not hard. And if people see prices going up equally and simultaneously at every store, and they know there's a good reason that's not actually costing them more money, there should be no problem.

Imagine how much better things can be. You scan the items: $5.50, $6.00, $4.25, you select the $6 item, you take it to the cash register, and the amount you owe is... $6.00. Beautiful.

Will it happen? Duh... no.

Politics

I've decided that I'm not going to share my thoughts about the presidential candidates anymore, from here on out. And here's why...

Despite being 28, and a relatively self-assured individual, I've discovered that I'm still fairly impressionable. I actually care what people think about me. And if I'm in the habit of talking about who I like and don't like, who I'm supporting or opposing, I am susceptible to supporting a Democrat because I want to gain credibility with the young progressive people I often find myself around. Or to supporting a Republican because I'm afraid of alienating my fellow pastors, family members, or conservative friends.

But if I just keep the whole thing to myself, I can know that I am supporting the candidate I really believe in, and I don't have to wonder if my motives are pure. I'm not saying this should be anyone else's approach... just mine.

So I'm writing it here to make it official. If you catch me going back on my word, feel free to call me on it... and... throw me a sucker-punch.

No, wait.

This Is My Body

Us: "Why are you so judgmental? This is MY body. I can drink what I want, eat what I want, watch what I want, do what I want, say what I want, have sex with whomever I want, and deal with the consequences of that sex however I want."

Jesus: "You're right. This is your body. You have free will, and in a 'free' country you are well aware of that. But this... this is MY body. And I did exactly what I wanted with it, but not what I was tempted to do. It did not serve me, it served the world.

This is my body. It was broken and beaten for you. It was crushed and bruised and slashed for you. It was pierced and spit upon for your sake, not for mine.

This wine is my blood, and this bread is my body. Take them, and remember me. And when you're finished, get up, and follow my example.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

Of Liver Transplants and Vacuum Cleaners

I don't spend much time on politics here, but I am compelled now to join the chorus of voices crying out against the health insurance industry here in the U.S. We are drawing very close to crisis mode, and the media is actually stepping up to bring it to a head.

As reported by the Hartford Courant newspaper, protesters gathered outside the Glendale, CA headquarters of CIGNA HealthCare to protest the reversal of their decision to cover a critical liver transplant for 17 year-old Nataline Sarkisyan, calling it "too experimental". You can read the details by clicking on the above link.

During the appeal process, doctors had to induce a coma to keep her alive until she could receive the transplant she'd already been promised. Finally, after a barrage of protest and media coverage, they re-reversed the decision, saying they would "make an exception in this rare and unusual case". Rare and unusual in the amount of bad press they were getting, is what I assume they meant. And then of course, to add the cherry to the top of this mud sundae, "Our hearts go out to Nataline and her family, as they endure this terrible ordeal." There are words for that, but I will not assume that only adults read this blog.

When I was on a mission trip in Cordoba, Argentina, the resident missionary there told me a story about a time he bought a vacuum cleaner at a small, independent store. When he got home to use it, it immediately fell apart. So he took it back, demanding a refund, but the store refused, and would not budge. So he took the only recourse available to him: he stood out on the sidewalk, showing people the busted vacuum, and telling them that the store sells crap without a refund policy. He drove so many customers away that the store finally relented, and gave him his money back.

Is that where our Health Insurance industry is headed? Where you have to organize a demonstration, or form a Facebook Causes group, or put a loose change jar at every grocery store check-out in the neighborhood to pay for what ought to be covered by your exorbitant monthly premiums? Will we soon see the health giant CEOs burning in effigy on the nightly news?

"But at least the story has a happy ending," you say. If only that were true. After the claim was approved by CIGNA, but before surgery could begin, 17 year-old Nataline died, according to ABC News.

Onto the hands of an industry already caked with dry black blood, the flow now runs fresh and red in full public view.

God have mercy.

Mid-December Miscellany

Here we are... 12 days to Christmas and my mind is filled with miscellany. So why even try to focus? Here's a hodge-podge, a menagerie, a winding journey through a wandering mind.

Advent Conspiracy

One occupant of my mind that only seems to grow stronger is the sense that I should be a part of helping everyone get it right when it comes to Christmas. No, I'm not talking about the culture wars of who has the almighty guts to actually say "Merry Christmas". It scares me to oblivion to think of three Christian fathers showing up at Best Buy for the only remaining Nintendo Wii, pounding each other to a pulp for it, and then all being careful to wish the "Happy Holidays" clerk a "Merry Christmas" on their way out.

Imago Dei is a church in Portland that has made a real effort to instigate a change in the rabid commercialization of the birth of Christ. It's called Advent Conspiracy, and it urges everyone to spend less, and give more... specifically to provide clean water for those in the world who have none. I encourage everyone to check it out, and I could definitely see The Core jumping on board with this in 2008. There's a great video on Tim Keel's blog about the joy of giving clean water.

Downtown Conversation

There's a lot of new stuff coming in downtown. Artist Susan Sommer-Luarca renovated, and now opened, a gorgeous new gallery just across the intersection from the Front Porch, a new coffeehouse on the square, called The Coffee Ethic, has now come online, and at the same time a quaint little shop called Global Fayre has hit the Campbell Avenue scene just a block away. The best part is, In the last 24 hours I have had great conversations with the proprietors of all three of these new establishments, and they have all been actually quite deep. I pray that there will be many more opportunities to connect meaningfully with our downtown neighbors.

Vocationality

And speaking of great conversations, I am having some of the best conversations so far with my co-workers now that I have decided, after 2 1/2 years working at Second Baptist Church, to move on. In case you weren't aware, I took a position at Second in May 2005, primarily to handle their graphic design and layout. But now I have accepted the role of Office Manager/Graphic Designer at a downtown print shop called Trader's Printing Company. It's a small, family owned business that has had a strong presence downtown for over 80 years, so that's pretty exciting. Not to mention the fact that my round-trip commute will be reduced from 18 miles to 3 miles, and that I'll be working full-time only a block from the Front Porch!

It's Getting Easier to be Green

I'll have to post some pictures on this topic soon, but I did want to let everyone know that the Front Porch's green room (the room behind the stage) is getting a make-over. We were donated a couch and easy-chair set from a furniture store across the street the went out of business. And check this out... it's a very hip set: two-tone leather worth $5500! In addition to that we've been donated a 32" flat-panel TV. So now we can deck out the Green Room and make it a comfy spot for Discussion Groups, Counseling, Prayer, Study Groups, and the older kiddos (pre-schoolers) who come on Sunday mornings. Just throw in an end table and a floor lamp and we're in business.

Merging and Changing

I'm keeping the details a little bit quiet at the moment, but we're looking forward to our new year of Sunday morning Worship Gatherings. Stay tuned as new ideas unfold...

Fortress Maximus and the Marching Band

Last night's QAF Session was my favorite so far.

There was me, Steve, Tim, Latisha, Lindsey, Jarred, TJ, Tabitha, Jason, Snow, and Mik. And everybody contributed in some fashion.

Towards the end, I wanted to talk about my passion for following Jesus, and how it's not something that can be done in solitude. That's when an unusual metaphor entered my mind.

I don't know if you're too young, or too old, to have ever played with Transformers, but I loved them as a kid. The action figures were essentially robots that, if you cranked their torsos, or flipped their heads, etc, etc, they would become cars or planes or dinosaurs. The ultimate Transformer was a massive guy that was constructed by assembling six different Transformers together: one for each leg, one for each arm, and one for the head and one for the torso. First you had to own all six toys, and even then it took some work to get them all put together just right. And once you did, you had... FORTRESS MAXIMUS.

You could definitely have fun with each of the six individual Transformers. They were great toys. But you couldn't play with one for long without wanting to put it together with the other five and create the Ultimate Toy that was freakin' two-and-a-half feet tall.

I am not a kid asking for more toys for Christmas just so I can have more toys. I am the leg of Fortress Maximus, and I'm just trying to collect them all, to be part of the finished product.

Fast-forwarding a bit, to my high school years, imagine me in a green-and-gold marching band uniform. (As long as we're imagining, let's say that it made me look dashing and sophisticated.) I played the saxophone, which is a great instrument. You can stand out on the sidewalk and play whatever, and people will throw money in your case. I did it for the Salvation Army once (though there was a kettle instead of a case) and I played Christmas songs in front of the Front Porch long before it opened, last December.

Playing the saxophone by yourself is fun. But a part of you always wants to put it together with something else.... with piano and drums to make a jazz combo, or three other saxophones to make a sax quartet. Or... 250 instruments of all kinds to make a Marching Band.

My high school marching band was just that big, too. HUGE. Sometimes we would take half an hour to enter a stadium for a marching band competition in a single file line, just to intimidate the other bands by our sheer size. (Wow... was that really as dorky as it sounds to me now?)

But size wasn't really the point. The point is to get together some people who know how to play the saxophone, with some who can play the trumpet, the trombone, the tuba, the flute, the clarinet, the fluegelhorn, the snare, the bass drum, the quads, the cymbals, the marimba... and some people who can toss the flags and dance the drills, and you've got something there. Then all you've got to do is learn to march and put together a show that spells out the name of your school, or something.

I'm not a recruiter standing on the sidewalk, talking people into playing and marching so we can have the biggest band in the state. I am a saxophonist who wants the whole set... someone to play every part, and stand in the right spots so we can make our formations.

I'm not an evangelist... a promoter of Christianity. I don't just want a large church, and certainly not a big name for myself. I'm just a Christ-follower with a certain set of gifts, trying to complete the beautiful, diverse picture that God has given me of the Body of Christ. Don't become a Christian just to be on the winning team. Join us because we need your help. God has given you a gift that we don't have yet, and maybe that's why we're struggling... maybe that's why we seem to be lacking something important. Because you're holding out on us.

The secular world talks a lot about diversity, but when we're at our best, they ain't got nothin' on the Body of Christ.

Fruits of the Flesh - Happiness

This is the third installment in the series "Fruits of the Flesh". Here is the original post.

The second Fruit of the Spirit is Joy. The second Fruit of the Flesh is Happiness.

I wrote at some length about Love vs. Romance, but for Joy vs. Happiness I'll be brief.

One response to the original post was about the denigration of the word "happiness", and the fact that the Greek and Hebrew words most often translated "blessed" in the Scriptures are just as accurately translated "happy". Such as in the Psalm 1:1 "Happy is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked," or Matthew 5:7, "Happy are the merciful."

The most common approach to Joy vs. Happiness is that Joy is deep and resilient, whereas Happiness is temporary and circumstantial. I have no qualms about that view. But is there a chance we're giving Happiness the short-shrift?

One of the primary post-modern criticisms of Christianity attacks the naive, happy-clappy, see-no-evil disposition. It bothers me, too. But is happiness the culprit, or the victim here? It would be a funny thing to translate Matthew 5:4, "Happy are those who mourn". Mourning people aren't happy, they're sad.

The second fruit of the flesh is a Happiness that is sought in and of itself. But much like Romance, and the other Fruits of the Flesh, Happiness needs to be a by-product of the Spirit, and becomes an evil thing when it is sought directly. Joy, on the contrary, can be sought directly, because we cannot have it without a whole-hearted trust in God. Happiness is an emotion, but Joy is a commitment.

And no matter what emotions joy may lead us through in this life, happy is the one who joyfully perseveres to the end, where happiness is not the exception, but the rule.

Fruits of the Flesh - Romance

Yesterday I lined up the world's counterfeit fruits in the post "Fruits of the Flesh." Now I'm going to hit each one briefly, for a little explanation.

The first Fruit of the Spirit is Love. The first Fruit of the Flesh is Romance.

The Fruits of the Flesh are not, inherently, bad. The only people I know who would call Romance bad are the unromantic. Romance, to them, is what gives the Romeos and Don Juans an unfair advantage. But apart from them, most of us can agree that Romance is a good thing, especially within marriage.

But here's the kicker. God says, "Love." The world says "Fall in love." That's what Romance is: Falling in love. It's not something you have any control over... you're a victim. It just happens. So you get swept off your feet, and carried along by a sweet summer breeze.

And it's only logical that if you don't have any control over the beginning of something, you won't have any control over the end, either. Falling out of love. Breaking up. Divorce. Romance, like money, is a great servant and a terrible master.

One of the great tragedies of the English language is the multi-tasking it often is required to do. I'm not going to ask you to stop saying how much you love Snow, or Motorcycles, or Burger King. But when you talk about loving people, you've got to switch into another gear. DC Talk wrote a hip-hop ditty called "Luv is a Verb" which was cheesy, but right on target.

If Love is a verb, it's not something you can "fall into". It's a bull you take by the horns. And if it's all mushy and emotional then guys will get really quiet when they say "I love you" to each other, and have to add the word "dude" or "man" or "bro".

So I'm gonna finish with a word to the men. If there's anything masculine out there, it's action. Decisive, Aggressive Action. No wonder we've shrunk back from loving each other... our society equates it with sex, sunsets and satin sheets. And those things have their place. But love is a thing of action! It is a thing of reckless sacrifice and relentless devotion. It means making a decision and never, ever swerving from it. Do you think you're stubborn and tough? Make a pact with God right now (or renew the one you already have) to never leave your wife... legally, physically, sexually, mentally... period. Make a pact to never abuse her, or your kids. Never in a million years. Make a pact to work like an ox to provide them everything they need. Make a pact to shut the hell up when they just need you to listen.

Because Love is a verb... bro.

Fruits of the Flesh

For the fruit of the flesh is:

Romance, Happiness, Compromise, Coolness, Friendliness, Social Awareness, Security, and Autonomy

Let's see them side by side:

SPIRIT--------FLESH
Love----------Romance
Joy-----------Happiness
Peace---------Compromise
Patience------Coolness
Kindness------Friendliness
Goodness------Social Awareness
Faithfulness--Security
Self-Control--Autonomy

Each fruit of the flesh is a counterfeit. It can be easy to see them as worthy of our effort, or even as equivalent to what the Spirit desires. I will explain the difference between the left column and the right in future posts.

A Fashionable Faith

One very good way to seem holier-than-thou is to be unattractive.

You may be one of the few individuals who have had the misfortune of being born beautiful, and have to take deliberate steps to be homely. I recommend wearing thick, heavy glasses, tangling up your hair, eating poorly, adopting a sedentary lifestyle, and replacing your wardrobe with frumpy, out-dated and mismatched apparel. Combined with a strict code of morals and a Bible college degree, these simple steps can make the most naturally attractive person seem quite holy.

OK, enough of that.

The truth is that I believe every person is beautiful. Not just on the inside, either. Granted, this belief is buried deep in my soul, and my eyes and mind will spend my entire life trying to live up to it. I have no doubt that God has a sense of physical, visual beauty, and that he literally "sees" every individual as beautiful, despite any asymmetry, malformation, handicap, skin disease or cultural disadvantage. It is not creation, but culture that causes some to rise above the rest, and to be crowned sexy.

Religion has responded to this cultural tendency in very severe ways at times. Both Peter (in I Peter) and Paul (in I Timothy) give warnings to the women of the Church not to decorate themselves, and to dress with modesty. And then there's the verse in Proverbs that says how "beauty is vain". This is all the fuel that the legalistic set needs to develop a counter-culture with attitudes like the one I expressed in the first paragraph. "The world has sinfully exalted attractiveness, so we will exalt homeliness! The less you do to develop your physical appearance, the better!"

So here we are... caught between two mistakes: pride in beauty, and pride in rejecting beauty.

It's obvious that physical beauty has a role to play in God's plan... At least 10 major Old Testament figures are identified for their beauty, and not just women. Sarah is so beautiful that her husband Abraham tries to pass her off as his sister so he won't be killed. Rebecca draws the immediate attention of Isaac's wife-searching servant. Rachel's beauty instantly inspires 7 years of hard labor from Jacob. Bathsheba pulls the "man after God's own heart" way off course. Esther wins an empire-wide beauty pageant to become Queen of Sheba and save her entire race. As for the men... Saul's beauty is defined by his extraordinary height. David, although considerably shorter, is described as handsome. And his wicked son Absalom was the Fabio of his day... with long, luxurious locks and "not a blemish on him". It is a poetic justice that he dies by hanging... his hair caught in a tree. And who can forget Solomon and the Shulammite Woman, his first wife, who praise each other's beauty over and over in Song of Solomon?

Beauty is a powerful thing in scripture. Sometimes it leads to disaster (as with Bathsheba) and other times to salvation (as with Esther.) Is it possible that physical, cultural beauty is a gift with a purpose, just like so many other things? Perhaps God knows the power of attraction and desires to use it to his advantage.

The Art of Fashion is not highly respected in Christian circles, for reasons I've already mentioned. It smacks as narcissistic on the one side, and voyeuristic on the other. And in many, many cases I believe this is probably true... not only do its excesses and misuses lead to selfishness, they lead to lust, rape, adultery and even idolatry. So it can be hard for devoted Christians to justify the mountains of money spent on textiles and cosmetics. But maybe, just maybe, there is a baby somewhere in this bathwater. I've had to think about this a lot lately, with our Benefit Fashion Show (called "Hit the Lights") coming up on December 8.

We have no doubt that God gives certain people a beautiful voice. Would you rebuke a talented young woman for spending lots of time and money on voice lessons, or even a voice degree, and dedicating her life to singing and teaching others to do the same? What about those who seem born to paint, or calculate, or invent, or build, or advise?

I'm going to use a word that I don't think I've ever heard applied to beauty or fashion... STEWARDSHIP. Is it possible that those born with pleasant features might actually be held accountable to God for their stewardship of this gift?

Yes, it's extremely easy for an attractive person to become arrogant, like The Fonz with his comb, or Marsha Brady with her hairbrush. But isn't that the case with every gift? God has given us all the freedom to ignore his call, and assume that we are gifted simply because we deserve it... we're better than others.

In our approach to every gift of God, we should seek him desperately to know his purpose in all of it. Why am I such a great quarterback? Why do I love drawing so much? Why do people always come to me with their problems? Why have you made me so attractive to others? How do you want to use me?

I'll finish with a story. When I was in high school, I belonged to a youth group with a few stereotypical "valley girls" who cared deeply about their clothes, their hair, their tans, etc. One of them always had extremely fancy nails, painted with different designs and patterns. Most of us assumed these girls were pretty shallow and didn't have much interest in the things of God. And in all reality, they probably did go overboard with their appearance, and were likely guilty of some degree of vanity.

To everyone's surprise, three of these girls decided to go on a mission trip to Lithuania, I think. I wasn't there, but I heard afterwards about how the little girls they met there reacted to the American girl with the extreme fingernails. They absolutely flocked around her, and flooded her with questions. And when they had learned all they could about her nails, they wanted to know everything else about her as well... including her faith. Because of her fingernails, she had instant respect, and dozens of little listening ears.

Not only did this have a spiritual impact on the Lithuanians, but the three American girls were never the same. Because others had labeled them as shallow, they had come to believe it themselves. But to see what kind of influence they can have on others, they started to understand that God really did intend to use them, just like those who had other, more "spiritual" gifts.

And that's a beautiful thing.

Doctrine of Original Spanking

I was listening to a Mark Driscoll sermon a moment ago, where he was talking about how people seem to know everything about parenting until they actually have a kid. He was making fun of how they talk: "You gotta have a schedule, y'know... feed 'em at 4, spank 'em at 5, pray over 'em at 6..."

And I cracked up at the phrase "spank 'em at 5". I've never heard of a pre-emptive spanking, but maybe it's not such a bad idea. After all, if you believe in the doctrine of original sin, a daily spanking may be just the ticket.

"OK boay... you was sinful from the time yer muther conceived ya, so git yer butt up here... and no Charmin this time!"

Is that why they used to hold babies upside down and spank them at birth? Makes sense to me...

Girls Gone Wild Go Home!

Yesterday when I showed up at the Front Porch there was a reporter lady and a camera man standing out in front, interviewing Matt, one of our volunteers. I naturally assumed it was about the FroPo. But no, it was about... "the boot".

With all due respect to our local crop of intrepid journalists, that is the nature of news in this town. Granted, last night there was a body found near Evangel's campus, and a car chase and firearms showdown that ended in a suicide, but yesterday afternoon, the press was there to talk about the boot... you know, the device they put on vehicles whose owners have failed to pay their parking tickets. It's that ironic device that says, "Hey... you're not supposed to park here. So now you can't move at all! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Cough... spit!"

So I was standing around for a moment watching Matt's interview when another guy walked up and said, "Hey, are you guys reporting about Girls Gone Wild?" and he pointed down the street. I looked up and noticed that, parked across the street and about three doors down, was a big tour bus completely wrapped up in a "Girls Gone Wild" graphic. My first reaction was to be surprised that it wasn't more, well... graphic. Except for the other-worldly-platinum blonde hair, too much makeup and bad-girl smiles it was actually completely modest.

But that's where the pleasantries ended. The bus was parked in front of the "Boogie" night club, downtown Springfield's premier meat market. It made me want to slash their tires, if that wouldn't have actually kept them there longer. The reporter said that, no, she wasn't doing a story about Girls Gone Wild, she was doing a story about the boot. That, to me, was comparable to doing a story on a pot hole in the street while the house behind you burns to the ground.

My wife stepped up to the front door to join our conversation, and the reporter told us about her angry confrontation with the guy running the GGW show. She had told him off for getting barely legal women liquored up and exploiting them for the cameras in a way that will haunt them forever. He said that quite a few women had gotten good jobs out of it. When she ask what jobs, outside of the porn industry, he said that one woman became a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Whoop-de-do. I guess that counts. I wonder what she'll do when they spit her out at age 31.

When I hear about the 60s and 70s, it makes me wonder where I would have fit into that scene. It's impossible to know for sure. I do know that I'm against smoking weed, casual sex, and going without a shower for weeks on end. That would probably set me apart from the hippie crowd. But I have to admit they discovered some things about women that our modern society is remiss to neglect.

Yes, I think they went too far with the whole feminazi thing. But something had to be done about the exploitation of women... the reduction of the feminine gender to a possession, a baby factory, and/or a sexual plaything. And they made actual progress. But it seems that, for some reason, there has been a sort of splashback. In one way, the movement continues unabated, in another way it has back-fired. We are simultaneously faced with the strongest female presidential hopeful in history, and the most pervasive sexual objectification ever of her gender.

The saddest thing to me is that, as our culture learned to be more respectful of women, it was not Christians leading the way. And as our culture has slid back down that hill into the gutter and beyond, that Christians still seem to be absent from the conversation. Yes, we preach against adultery and fornication and immodest attire and looking at porn. But are we really opposing evil, and more importantly, are we setting the example for society by treating older women as mothers and younger women as sisters? This is a commandment, for God's sake! When are we going to start paying attention?

Because you know what Mr. Bus Driver across the street would do, when he launches his routine at the Boogie, if his little sister walked in. The fact is, they're all his sisters. And they're your sisters, being reduced to packages of flesh.

Lord have mercy.

Sometimes I Wish I Were a Smoker

If cigarettes, cigars or pipes were a) free, b) pleasant-tasting, and c) completely harmless, I think I would be a smoker.

Naturally, these three things are ridiculously untrue. I've never smoked for even a moment (a friend tried to teach me how to puff a cigar one time, but I failed miserably) and I suppose I never will. It's never looked or smelled appealing to me, and I've outgrown any vulnerability to that sort of peer pressure.

But there is one allure that grabs me every so often. This morning I saw a guy standing out at the edge of a parking lot, enjoying the cool morning haze, making a little haze of his own. I tried to imagine him without a cigarette, just standing there, staring into space. Then I realized that people don't do that.

When I lived in an apartment building with balconies, I looked with a trace of envy at my neighbors, who could sit out on their lawn chairs late in the evening, just smoking. I didn't smoke, so I tried sitting out on my balcony with a book. Not enough light. I tried sitting out there with nothing, and I could tell that people w