My New Favorite Animal

It's not exactly cuddly, but the cuttlefish is cute.

It has incredible camouflage abilities, as described in this article. Roger Hanlon studies cuttlefish at the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, where I will be going this summer for a couple of weeks to do research. Hopefully I can see them in person!

Love Song for the Semi-Colon

I read an article in the Times this morning about the semi-colon; that wily but misunderstood bit punctuation that I love so dearly.

Americans, in particular, prefer shorter sentences without, as style books advise, that distinct division between statements that are closely related but require a separation more prolonged than a conjunction and more emphatic than a comma.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/18/nyregion/18semicolon.html?em&ex=1203570000&en=dc3cd0cc8983eb99&ei=5087%0A

I don't know why I like semi-colons so much, but I do! They seem like a license to splurge in a run-on sentence while providing style and panache. I say, "Hooray for the Semi-Colon!"

Rusty - Part 2

I too am reflecting on life and death today... I am about 50% through "Hell Week" in my MBA class, with 2 cases and 2 exams over 6 days. All my focus has been inward, on myself, and it takes the death of a fellow church attendee to get me out of my own narcissism.

Self-flagellation accomplishes little, but self-examination and reflection is much more productive. I think about how long its been since I spoke to my grandmother. I consider how little I share of my faith, the very hope of my life, with my colleagues. And I ask myself, "If my life were evaluated today, would I pass the test?"

Only by the blood of Jesus would I stand.

Life is short. Relationships are sweet. God is sovereign. This is the platform I want to build my life upon...

This morning I read of the death of a man from our church who I never met. Rusty began coming to North City last summer, but he has been in the hospital for most of the time since then. Brent and I never went to visit him. It was one of those things where he didn't seem quite real. I prayed for him, and I always thought we should make time and go encourage him. But we didn't.

In the past few days I have also read about five people getting slaughtered in a lecture hall with a shotgun, and about a NY therapist being butchered in her office with a meat cleaver. A few days ago a woman was stabbed five times in the Nordstrom parking lot of our local mall during broad daylight.

My point here is not to stir up guilt about the Rustys in your life—the people you should make time for, but consistently don’t—or to strike fear in your heart about meeting some gruesome and untimely end. My point is not even to bemoan the evilness of the present age. This is a call to wake up and run. There is very little time!

Most of us live out our days in relative ease, placated with the stuff of this life. (You have struggles, to be sure, but the fact that you have internet access and the time to read this blog suggests you aren’t out fighting for food or clothing or shelter.) We don’t think that TODAY might be the day when our lives will be required. Or maybe the life of that curmudgeonly man in the office next door.

I write now to my brothers and sisters in Christ: we cannot afford to finger our doubts, to worry what other people think, or to put off the really important things. We must not be deceived that our purpose in this life, which is "to glorify God and enjoy him forever" (Westminster Catechism, Q1), can be actualized by anything less than an all-consuming love of God that manifests itself as a radical, operative love of our fellow man.

What’s more, while our salvation does come by grace through faith alone, our obedience to the Prince of Peace is not optional the way nuts are optional when you make brownies: no, action and self-sacrifice are essential. I can say I love the Lord six hundred times in a day, but if I ignore what he asks me to do, I really do not love him. Friends, he has told us to tell the Good News and make disciples of all the nations. What are we going to do?

I said earlier my point was not to stir up guilt or fear. But let’s distinguish between the self-focused, self-preserving kind of guilt and fear that becomes an unproductive end in itself, and the God-centered, holy kind of guilt and fear that moves us to repentance and provokes us to action. This latter variety may feel uncomfortable, but it is good. Hear then my exhortation: let these powerful motivators change the way you do one thing today. Show honor to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Take care of someone who can’t take care of you in return. Open your mouth at the lunch table and tell people who Jesus is. (But don’t ask me tomorrow what one thing I did; I am humbled by my own weakness, even as I write to charge you to be strong.)

God promises that if I confess with my mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe that God raised him from the dead, I will be saved (Romans 10:9). Let’s do be clear about that: I can in no way contribute to my salvation. But the Lord has wooed and washed me; will I just sit on the sidelines of love? I cannot bear the thought of going to my grave with energy left unspent! I imagine the words "Well done, good and faithful servant" will be spoken only to those who love and trust the Lord enough to attempt the hard things, like voluntarily giving up a particular gift he has given to be able to say, “The gift is good, but it’s the Giver I love.”

At the end of the day, though, I don’t think we need to worry too much about whether the sacrifices we are called to make will be too difficult for us. God’s grace is sufficient for the moment when you hear his voice calling. Also, there is joy in the sacrifice; a man will toil with joy if he knows it pleases his lover. So throw off the warm blanket of apathy that lets you ignore the homeless man on the corner when you don’t have anything smaller than a twenty in your wallet! Who cares if he may not really be homeless? Give the twenty and be blessed.

Only an hour forty five... Not that bad

Quick Story

I had a conversation yesterday evening with an nice, middle-aged woman at the 10-minute oil change place. We were chatting, as people do at such venues, while we waited for our cars to be finished.

She was exclaiming about the merits of this place, and how convenient it was for her to stop by it on her commute home. Always interested in marketing tactics, I asked her how she heard of it and started coming here.

She went on to explain how, but the REALLY interesting thing was the length of her commute and her description of it. You see, she went on to tell me that her commute is an hour and fourty-five minutes... each way! But, she advised me, "It's really not all that bad..."

She went on to justify her decision based on the priviledge of owning a home, quality of life, etc. I just smiled and nodded, but inside, this voice in my head was saying, "Lady, you are spending 3.5 hours of every day on the road, on top of at least 9 hours a day in an office far from home. That's CRAZY!"

Maybe I'm just too small-townish, but God help me if I ever tell someone in an oil change place someday, "Only an hour forty five... Not that bad..."

3 - 0 - FORE!!!

It's Monday, February 3rd, and I am just enjoying the last few hours of my 20's... It's quite a strange feeling to be entering a new decade, though I am hoping that there might be some clause like the whole millenium/Y2K thing that would give me an extra year of grace. No such luck, I think!

So far, my birthday season has been superb. Kat asked me for what I wanted to do to celebrate, and did all this research about exciting, culturally relevant activities that we could do... and I said, "Let's take a golf lesson together..."

She has only gone to the range a few times, and I LOOK like I have only gone a few times. But under the expert care of my ever-encouraging pro, Brian, he had us BOTH hitting for the fences in no time. Kat especially was amazing. Glad to see 13 years and thousands of softball swings paying off!

So tomorrow I bravely emark on a new decade of living. Who knows what will happen in my next 30 years.